#to open up about his half monster side to someone he loves and trusts

[prosebushpatch]

new otp is Gaius and Evelyn from Rune Factory 3. like, i'm sorry, he has a hard time expressing his feelings because she assumes every gift he gives her is a commission to turn it into an outfit? And she, the resident fashion designer who uses fish and fondue for her out-there fashions seems to relish the challenges he gives her? But when he gives her an engagement ring, one he made as a blacksmith meant to suit her perfectly, she considers this the hardest commission he's presented her with yet and after asking you to suss out the kind of girl he likes, SHE DECIDES TO WEAR THE RING AND WALK SIDE BY SIDE WITH HIM AS HER GREATEST ATTEMPT AT COORDINATION YET. HELLO?

[viperixsworld]

GUTS, luke castellan x oc(prologue)

summary: where an aphordite daugther falls for this lying hermes boy.

disclaimer: english is not my firt language.

We don't get to choose who we fall in love with.

Arianne knew that. She believed it to her core. Love was something magical and illogical. Her own father, said it when he told her about her mom. Apparently, she was a beautiful young woman that crossed paths with Nicholas Deveraux (her father) during his travels in Europe before officially settle down in the family business in Chicago.

Everyone expected that Nicholas would come back from Europe with a bad tan and a few souvenirs, not a freaking newborn baby daugther.

Nicholas was a loving father, but not a really smart man. That is It's one of the reasons she didn't question when a man showed up at her Chicago home, offering her only daughter a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school.

Arianne came to camp half-blood when she was thirteen years old. After some encounters with several monsters, Chiron himself went to her doorstep in Chicago to get her to camp.

Nevertheless, during her arrival there was an incident. An incident involving three more demigod, a satire and a cyclops.

Arianne was claimed a few weeks after the attack, same as the two demigos that survived. Luke Castellan, son of Hermes, and Annabeth Chase, daugther of Atenea.

And let me tell you, Arianne Deveraux didn't choose to fall for the son of the Traveler. It was fate, or maybe was her mother ? She wasn't really sure. They started off as friends, adapting to camp at same time, being the same age, having the same friends.

Arianne was a nice, generous and beautiful girl, she was the perfect definition of an Aphordite daugther. Everyone that knew her personally (and even those who didn't) held her close to their hearts. Knowing that if you had to trust someone, you could trust Arianne Deveraux.

It was also a flaw, being the goodie older sister of Camp Half-blood.

At sixteen, she was named captain of Aphordite cabin. At the same time, Luke Castellan was named captain of Hermes cabin. They started to spend more time together, attending bonefire together, sparring together... Then the gifts started, Luke liked how her eyes would shine everytime she opened a present, no matter how stupid or simple. He would get her little details, It was his way of showing love, his love language, and her siblings would beg her to ask Luke to please, please, get them things for the cabin.

On the othet hand, Arianne would be (even without her knowing) the best of the presents for Luke. She was kind and beautiful, and gave him all the attetion he craved. And even Annabeth liked her, and would let her do her hair when she was tired. She was a part of their little, broken family.

Sometimes, Ari would cover up for Luke, when he sneak out to get things for other half-bloods and for himself. Like a PlayStation or some chess board for Annabeth, or his little presents for Ari.

Sometimes, Luke would sneak her in the Big House, to use the phone to talk to her father.

Every friday night, the would sit in the shore of the lake, to talk about everything or to be completly silent. Every time the scar on Luke's face hurt, Ari would stay by his side and try to ease the pain. Every time Ari felt like the stress of carring everyones problems and her owns, Luke was there to relieve her.

They were partners in crime, always there for each other.

That, until an enemy emerges from the shadows and resentment.

That, until one betrays the other.

Until Arianne Deveraux feels love and hate in her guts.

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Can I request something for Marcille, Chilchuck, Mickbell and Holm with a half-foot reader who is not someone to avoid a fight like most half-foots would because they are a duellist/dagger wielding rogue? They even seem a little reckless because they trust so much in their own skill of avoiding hits so they dare come in close when fighting something.

Oh now that is a delightful image! i love when a character subverts the expectations of the race they are in fantasy. Dwarf Mages, Elf barbarians, etc etc. this sounds delightful.

Marcille looked at you the same way as she looked at chilchuck, she couldnt help but view you as a child like she did with chilchuck. she giggled seeing you with your daggers and even asked if you were old enough to be using those, worrying that you might cut yourself.

So imagine her reaction when during the first fight you charge in with your daggers, slashing and stabbing and dashing all over the monster. your size and speed making you damn near impossible to hit . marcille was shocked, you had told her time and time again you werent a kid and were good in a fight but she just attributed that to you being embarrassed.

She apologizes to you for assuming you were young and that you couldnt look out for yourself. she let her biased views influence how she viewed you and she felt bad about it, you accept her apology and you two become good friends. Your speed lets you duck in and out of range of her explosions to deal damage with your knives. you two make a great team.

Chilchuck absolutely knows about you, he had heard about you through the grapevine. He had thought about getting you in the union to make sure nobody took advantage of you, but all things considered he figured you were more than capable of handling yourself.

When you joined the party he assured everyone of your skills, that if even half the stories he had heard of you were true then you would be an excellent addition to the party. And sure enough when the first first starts and your zipping in and out of combat slashing and stabbing the enemy chilchuck just smiles smugly at everyones wonder. He comments how not all half foots are squishy and bad at fighting.

Normally he would discourage you from a fellow half foot getting into an immediate melee brawl but your skills make him think that isnt an issue. He does still care about you, your a fellow half foot so of course he is going to look out for you. He cant help looking out for his fellow half foots.

Like chilchuck mickbell had heard of you before, that you were supposedly some half foot that was great in a fight? sounded like a loud of bullshit to him, he thought you were just somebody talking alot of game and having no real skill to back it up. that you likely were just lying to people.

Mickbell nearly faints when he finally sees you in action, As he hid behind some rocks he watches as you and kruo charge in slashing and stabbing at the monster. The two of you fighting with such savagery and speed, he wasnt sure who was more animalistic in their assault. The monster eventually slayed he steps out of his hiding spot.

He looks at you with wide eyes, saying how cool you were and how your so awesome! the way you were just running circles around the monster was the coolest thing he had ever seen! that you had to teach him how to do stuff like that.

(apologies i couldnt find a proper gif of holm)

When you joined the party and told him about your skills he belived you, his intuition told him that you were much more skilled than you let on so when you told him your fighting style it made sense to him. And when mickbell said you were likely lying holm said he didnt believe it for a second.

When the first fight with a monster happened you noticed his Undine Marillier by your side. Its way of attacking complimenting your fighting style, as you attacked and dodged the monsters attacks it would snipe at the monster each time you opened up its weakness. the two of you really were a dangerous pair in combat. Of course you also were quick to draw the monsters aggro back onto you to keep marillier safe.

After the fight holm gently pet at the undine and resealed it, thanking you for helping it in the fight. "thanks for watching her back, your one of the few people that tries to not let her get hurt." he says with a smile thanking you. You tell him its no problem, after all your team mates.

[solaiced]

CASE 12: THE BLINDS WIDE OPEN SO GETO SUGURU CAN SEE YOU WHEN YOU SLEEPIN'.

!content!: geto calls you a monkey, somnophilia, use of cursed technique (to make you sleep) and non-con.

wc:787

solace: I love the duality of geto, also sorry for all the late posts I’ll have them (probably) out by nov 5th.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were too beautiful for your own good.

No, seriously. It caused problems.

For example, Geto Suguru needs you, a monkey, in his grasp, his family. And that was wrong. Sorcerers and monkeys couldn’t mingle, they were too different. He hasn’t spared a single one, not even his parents, so why did he want to spare you?

He just had to have you. It wasn’t a choice, it was a need. You were necessary.

Luckily, he knew where you lived.

So, one night, one fateful night, when you unfortunately forgot to lock the windows, he snuck in.

Seriously? A special grade sorcerer, sneaking into a mere civilian’s house? He was going crazy.

He steps in carefully, quiet. His feet carry him to your room, he didn’t have to search, you left your door open.

Tsk, didn’t you know to hide from monsters like him? You had too much trust in you.

Geto silently makes his way to you, uncovering your body from the blankets. God, even seeing your face makes him hard.

You turn, making him freeze. A little sound slips out of your half open mouth, stretching your limbs then going limp once more. He smiles unconsciously, your every acts endearing to him.

Was it lust or love? He truly didn’t understand his feelings. The only time he knew was when he was with Gojo, but that time was lost to time.

No, he’ll just use you as he’s done before to other monkeys. (Or, he’ll keep you locked up in his basement, and-)

Geto shakes his head before kneeling in front of your bed, observing your features and trying to find a single imperfection. Absolutely none. He hated that. He wanted to show you weren’t all perfect, wanted to scar you, psychologically and physically.

He reaches out, thumb swiping on your dry bottom lip, dipping it inside of your mouth to wet the lip.

Straightening, he slowly takes off your blanket. Purple eyes rake over your figure, sprawled out before him like he wasn’t the monster your parents used to tell you about when you were a child. Like he wasn’t about to ruin you completely for everyone else.

The man slides his calloused hand up your outer thigh, making you shiver unconsciously, closing your legs together to keep warm. He chuckles at your weak attempt to get away from him, and opens your legs.

He doesn’t waste time, sliding your skimpy panties aside and pressing his hot tongue to your slit, tasting you.

You moan, and he wonders for a second if he had woken you up, only to lift his eyes and see you still asleep. Idiot. Didn’t you know to identify danger when it’s right there?

Nevertheless, he continued his movements, plunging his tongue inside of your now-dewy cunt. It really didn’t take much to get someone wet. Geto slurps on your clit, scraping his teeth against it. He groans, your taste already got him hard.

Hips rocking against the bed, he thrusts his finger inside, making you squirm. You clumsily try to swat his hands away, and he chuckles, free hand grabbing both of your wrists together and pinning them to the side.

Your hips jerk, eyes fluttering open slowly as your orgasm crests, until you free fall, mouth opening on a silent scream and Geto opens his mouth wide, ready to swallow your pussy’s secretion.

He groans when he tastes your unconscious body’s slick, hand in his pants while his cock pulsed like a heartbeat. He could feel the cum bubbling at the base of his balls, ready to burst.

He couldn’t stop, shutting his eyes and placing his head as he jerks himself off.

“Wh-wha…” Comes your tired voice, at the exact moment, Geto cums, biting your thigh to muffle his moans. His cock spurts out ropes upon ropes of his white essence.

You whine, hands grabbing at his hair to pull him off. He unlocks his jaw to stop biting and gets off, summoning one of his curses to make you sleep. Once its job is done, it dissipates and Geto cleans himself up, then stares at your sleeping figure.

His lips curl in disgust. He should kill you. He should. Really. But he didn’t.

In the morning, you remember nothing, having a wet dream of a person you’ve never even seen before, and waking up drenched in cum.

The truth still stays hidden to you, no trace of the person who made you cum in your own dream, save for the mysterious bite mark on your thigh. Yet Geto still watches you from afar, still stalks you, and still makes sure you walk home safely.

After all, he is the only monster allowed to haunt your dreams.

[milkywaydrabbles]

I am so glad you have anons turned on... ahem. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, though!

Kinktober 29 + Alucard! (Castlevania)

A/N: I don't know what you did to me but I've been possessed once again for this ask holy shit. Tentacle anon lemme kiss u on the mouth ;; hope you enjoy MWUAH (also a firm believer he'll always be a lover boy no matter what) AU TIME

Tentacles x Alucard

“Adrian! I can’t believe you’re the little thief!” You gasped, scandalized that your sea-friend would be the one who’s been stealing all the balls that kept magically ‘floating away’ in the ocean. He shrugged with a sly grin, his tentacles sprawled around him keeping him afloat. You’d met the mystical half sea creature months ago by this point, you’d been paddling out to sea for fun, realizing that you’d gotten entirely too far from shore. Before you were able to panic, you saw the tiniest little cove a bit farther out, deciding to rest inside of it before making a plan to go back to shore, back home. Instead what you got was the scare of your life, a tentacle gripping at your ankle and with a shriek you fell back into the side. The playful little fiend crept out with wide eyes, not expecting to ever have a human here in his home. You mirrored the look, thinking you’d finally gone insane seeing something with the top half of a man and bottom half of an...octopus? Lots of screaming, and explaining later, your fears were quelled, and after hours of talking, you felt you made a friend.

And you did! Visiting him as often as you could out here, bringing him food that you’ve made from your home, and him giving you small trinkets he’s found lost at sea. (Most recently he’d given you a pearl necklace he said he made himself. You would have seen the scarlet bloom across his neck and chest, should you not turn away trying to calm your own beating heart.) You learned he’s the rumored ‘Alucard’, the sea monster that eats the sailors off at sea. (‘Why the fuck would I do that?” he reasoned) You also learned there’s more of his kind, he has friends he sees every so often, even has loving parents deeper in the ocean bed. But he likes to spend alone time here, closer to humans. He likes listening to the different sounds above the water. Sometimes you’d even see him out in the ocean, closer to the shores if there wasn’t anyone around. You started going to the shores late in the night, if only to see him twice a day. (You think he stays coming back to the cove because of you, but neither of you will speak it out loud.)

“I’m not stealing them. They really do get lost out here! What am I supposed to do, bring them back? Someone’s going to see me.” He couldn’t help but grin like the cheshire cat, using a tentacle to grab at one of the ‘lost’ beach balls, bouncing it over to you and you rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re terrible” Of course you’d never want him to actually go back and give them back--someone finding out about his existence could have very well been the end of his life, him trusting you enough to let you go was a huge feat for the merman. “I actually have something else for you.” 

“Ooh, another beach ball?”

“Quiet you, come here.”

You huffed, crawling over to where he lounged and sitting in front of him, waiting. For the first time since the pearl necklace, you saw Alucard looking nervous. You gave him time, raising a brow and cocking your head urging him to continue. From behind his back, he pulled out a clamshell, “I promise the clam wasn’t alive when I found it.” He mumbled, pushing it towards you. You blinked, confused. This wasn’t the first shell he’s given you, but it was quite...lackluster, in comparison to the rest he’d given you. Plus, he looked entirely too nervous for a shell! “Thank you, Alucard.” You teased, laughing when you heard him groan. “Hush, ridiculous fucking name...the shell isn’t your gift.” He paused. “Open it.” the top flipped up and you nearly dropped it out of pure shock. What lay inside was the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen. A beautiful moss agate stone set in the middle, smaller pieces of diamonds dotted around the band. It was an intricate piece, one that you’d be devastated to lose if you were the original owner of this ring. “Adrian, I...what...oh my god” You couldn’t even form sentences, in too much shock a ring like this existed floating in the ocean. You looked at him, mouth agape. “How did you find this? Where did you find this? It’s in perfect condition!” you were scared to even touch the thing.

He stayed quiet for a moment, shuffling over to you. “I didn’t find it.” He admitted. “I ah...I had it made.” 

....

What?

“You said your favorite color was green. And you love the forest. So I thought this made the most sense for you. I know you’d rather live in the woods, but the ocean is beautiful too. I think you’d really like it here.” His voice was barely above a whisper, shaky hand bringing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Adrian, I don’t understand...”

You did. You just couldn’t believe it until he said it out loud. It all felt like a dream.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“And I would like to marry you. And have you move with me, into the ocean. With the rest of my kind.”

Your head was spinning, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Adrian panicked, hands frantically wiping away at your tears, unknowing that they were happy tears. “Please, please don’t cry. We don’t have to talk about this now, or at all, if you’re not comfortable it’s okay--” You cut him off with a kiss, your first shared kiss, hands smoothing his beautiful blonde locks. “Adrian, I love you.” Your admission knocked the wind out his lungs, head reeling that someone like him could have someone like you fall in love with him. “But how can this work? I mean, really, I’m not like you, I don’t...” He hushed you, placing another chaste kiss on your lips. “There’s more about my world that you don’t know, but I promise we can get you there. It’ll be our world soon, angel” 

You had no idea what he meant, or how it’d work, but in the meantime, you carefully took the ring out of the shell and gingerly placed it on your ring finger on your left hand. Your vision tunneled on the ring, holding your hand up to see it glimmering in the sunlight that shone through the cove. “It’s gorgeous, Adrian...” You could cry right now, and almost started to too if you didn’t try as hard as you were from keeping it together. “Be with me, please..” He connected his lips to you again, tentacles wrapping themselves around your middle as your hands carded through his hair. Adrian bit at your lower lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you permitted and deepening the kiss. What was once slow and sweet became a flurry of moans, tongue and teeth, anticipation and lust. He kissed and nipped at your jawline, your throat, your shoulders. “Will you let me touch you?” Adrian whispered, hands hovering over your body. You nodded, lifting your bathing top  off your body and pushing his hands onto your chest. His breathing stuttered, kneading and pinching at your body. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmured, dipping a tentacle at the hem of your bottoms, another joining by the edge of your pussy. You gasped, feeling yourself clench around nothing.  

You’d never thought yourself to be prude you just...never thought about being fucked by tentacles. Or a merman. But, fuck, if you weren’t turned on thinking about Adrian doing what he wanted with you before whisking you away to the deepest parts of the ocean. You pressed yourself closer to him, letting the tentacles pull away your bottoms. A hand came down to tease at your entrance, feeling the slick dripping on his fingers. “So wet..all for me?” He cooed, smiling when he felt you nodding against the crook of his neck. He wouldn’t tease you much, not this time--feeling much too impatient. His fingers slid into your pretty cunt with ease, so turned on you could have been ready for him right then and there. “Fuck, look at you.” He murmured, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He knows this wouldn’t be your first sexual encounter. He’s (unfortunately) heard of previous partners of your life, but none of them had the physiology that he had, he needed to prep you. “Darling, I need you to trust me, okay?” You furrowed your brows, humping at his fingers barely able to pay attention to what he was saying. “‘Kay, anything Adrian.” you murmured, before feeling the fingers replaced with something else. Something long, a bit slimy, definitely thicker. You cried out, hearing you gush and squelch around the intrusion. “Adrian!” You gasped, looking down at the juncture of your hips and seeing his tentacle pumping deep into your sloppy pussy. 

You couldn’t believe how hot and bothered you were, seeing him fucking you with the intrusive appendage. Your hips rolled towards him, the tentacle slowly pumping in and out of you. It poked and prodded at your walls, the suctions ribbing at your hole and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth fell open with a moan, head leaning back. “Gotta loosen you up like this, sweetheart, gotta get you ready..” You heard the merman speak, but the ringing in your ear didn’t help. His lips wrapped around a nipple, hand playing with the other. Simultaneously more of his tentacles wrapped themselves around your legs and arms, rubbing and squeezing at your appendages as the one still in your pussy pushed further in, kissing what felt like the entrance to your womb. You shrieked, clenching down hard on the tentacle with the immense amount of pleasure and  hint of pain you were feeling. “Fuckfuckfuck, Adrian,” You mumbled, hands holding onto his shoulders, “feels good in my pussy, a-aah fuck!” You cried, humping at the appendage. He kept his mouth busy with your chest, a tentacle letting go on an arm to kiss your clit with the small suction on the tip, rubbing at the nub and leaving it slimy. He’d suction to it and let go, imitating sucking on the quickly swelling bundle of nerves. “Want you like this forever, darling girl” he mused,  laving a tongue over your skin and leaving bites and love marks around your tits. His hands gripped at your hips, lips pressing against yours with a new fire lit. The tentacles working on your cunt were driving you to your climax, tentacle wrapped around your thigh pushing your leg farther apart. Alucard looked down at his added appendage fucking into you, and how juicy and wet you were. It was intoxicating, and he realized quickly he could have you like this more than he’d like to admit.

“Wanna feel you on me, darling.” He cooed, pushing the tentacle deeper in you and curling, acting almost like a large tongue licking inside your sloppy little cunt, smile curling on his face when he heard the squeal he was looking for, feeling you gush around him. The suction cups held the stickiness of your pussy, Alucard swiping at a few to taste your cum on his tongue. He moaned lowly, nearly angry at himself for not having your first orgasm be on his tongue. But there’d be so many after this time anyways, he didn’t have to worry, you’d be his forever. “Would you like a taste?” You nodded dumbly, limbs feeling like jello. You thought he’d kiss you, instead you had his tentacle shoved into you mouth, squirming around to taste your own mess in your mouth. Another immediate, albeit small shockwave hit your pussy, dripping down your legs with how turned on having his appendage in your mouth made you feel. Adrian swiped at your pussy, sucking up and licking as much of your cum as you’d give him, “Can’t believe you came again just by that.” Big words honestly for someone that was about ready to cum untouched with how hot you were. Most of his cock fit inside his body, length too long for his kind to have it floating out. He kept the first tentacle in your mouth, loving the way you sucked on it and didn’t let go. “Relax for me, darling girl.” He whispered, feeding his huge cock into your tight wet hole. You squealed around him, the head of his cock so big it already felt like you were being split apart. But it felt so fucking good having him filling you up like this, pushing and pushing at your walls until you were filled to the brim with his engorged cock. You mumbled around him, swiveling and bucking your hips on him, squirming. “Let’s keep you still so I don’t hurt you,” More of his tentacles held your limbs enough for you to not be able to move freely, one still suckling and teasing at your clit with another dipping in teasingly next to his cock, almost as if taunting you--as if you could ever have two of these things inside you at the same time.

Your eyes rolled back, cheeks bulging with the size of his tentacle, tears staining your face whenever the tip hit the back of your throat, Adrian wanted this to be romantic, he swears, but the way you sucked him in--the way you got excited with his tentacles touching you, it was so difficult to keep going like that. His primal instincts were kicking in hard, wanting to claim you fully in every way. His upper body leaned back to take in the sight of you being impaled over and over on his cock, seeing your creamy cunt swallow him up. Your pussy was so juicy, squelches reverberating off the walls of the cove. It was nearly as loud as your muffle moans, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as your jaw stayed pried open. “Fuck, darling, nor gonna last like this.” He murmured, holding onto your hips once more to slam you down as deep as you could take him, fucking into you over and over until his tentacled cock spurted deep inside you. You swore you could feel his cum filling your stomach, your womb, filling all of you as the excess spilled around the edges no matter how plugged he had you. Adrian panted, slowly retracting his cock from your abused pussy, seeing how his cum dripped out of you in globs onto the floor. He removed his remaining tentacles, smoothing his hands over you and rubbing at your face, nuzzling his nose into yours and your cheek, kissing at you. “I’m sorry honey, I couldn’t help it, you looked so good.” He begged for forgiveness, weaving his fingers with yours.

You smiled, kissing him back with the strength you had, “honey, we can take it slow next time. We have all the time in the world.”

[builtbybrokenbells]

builtbybrokenbells ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ masterlist ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

hi! welcome to the shitstorm! if you’ve read any of my works already and came to check out some more, thanks!!! also, if you’ve left any comment on my stuff i have def read them and appreciated them dearly :)

requests: OPEN (please be respectful and patient with me, I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as I can!)

taglists: please specify if you want to be on a general taglist, a fic taglist, or for a specific person 🫶🏻

disclaimer: i do not know gvf or any of the members. tis’ all fiction and imagination and i will never claim otherwise! also, i try to keep my works 100% original; i do not read as much as i write, and i would hate for someone to think im copying them in any way. also, please don’t steal my stuff :) also, i’ve said it before and i will say it again. please be kind to me and everyone else. this blog is a safe spot. my feelings get hurt easily, and i will not stand for any disrespect towards others. thanks in advance 🫶🏻

♡ - fluff, ☾ - smut, ★ - angst

as always, be kind, stay happy, and shoot me a message anytime if you want to chat!

t’s fic rec list

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Josh Kiszka

Long Time Coming ☾ ★

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It’s Never Over ♡ ☾ ★

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Lex Talionis Masterlist | ☾ ★ | ON HOLD

LEX TALIONIS: the law of retaliation, whereby a punishment resembles the offense committed in kind and degree | The one in which a player, who is fantastically gifted in her ability to play, finally gets a taste of her own medicine. SERIES | ON HOLD

Blurbs

Flowers ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Jake Kiszka

Complicated ♡ ★

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The Green-Eyed Monster ☾ ★

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Capital Vices Masterlist | ♡ ☾ ★

Religion never seems important until you’ve engaged in so much sin that salvation is no longer an option. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 120k

Reaching New Heights

Jake walks in on y/n during some particularly interesting alone time, opening them up to a whole new world (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 11k

Lex Talionis Masterlist | ☾ ★ | ON HOLD

LEX TALIONIS: the law of retaliation, whereby a punishment resembles the offense committed in kind and degree | The one in which a player, who is fantastically gifted in her ability to play, finally gets a taste of her own medicine. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Josh Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) SERIES | WIP

Partners In Crime | ♡ ★

The cure for heartbreak is truth, but what do you do when the truth is the source of heartbreak itself? (Jake Kiszka x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 9k

Rotten Apple | ♡ ☾ ★

Karma takes form in the strangest of ways. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 16k

Heartbreak Hot Seat | ♡ ☾ ★

Jake Kiszka seems to have the perfect remedy for a broken heart. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20k

Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | part 2 | some time later | ♡ ☾ ★

Alcohol and secrets make for a deadly combination. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) TWO PART SERIES | 35k

Little Miss Sunshine | ♡ ☾ ★

One little confession leaves you second guessing everything you’ve ever known about Jake Kiszka. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 26k

Melodic Memories Masterlist | ♡ ☾ ★

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, series, SMUT 18+) SERIES | WIP

Blurbs

Doing each others hair ♡

Confessing feelings ♡

Bringing home a stray kitten ♡

Jake loves dogs, but you own a cat ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Sam Kiszka

Hate To Love You | part two | part three | ♡ ☾ ★

Sam and y/n spent months hating each other, but a drunk confession and a bathroom hookup leads to more trouble than they bargained for. (Sam x f!reader with a Danny love triangle, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 25k

Picasso | aftermath | ♡ ☾

COLLEGE DORM AU y/n finds herself pining after the boy across the hall, taken by surprise after a series of events reveals that he feels the same way. An unconventional hookup leads to Sam making her first time unforgettable, both hoping for a romance to blossom from it. (Sam x f!reader, AU, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 15.5k

Gold Dust Woman Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★

Y/n finds herself completely in love with Sam with no hope of ever recovering. After months of waiting, hoping for a bit of reciprocity, she spends a night drinking his memory away. But, as we know, liquor never solves an issue, and always has the potential to create another. One messy hookup leaves leaves her undeniably in lust with the worst possible person: his brother, Jake. (Sam x f!reader, series, Jake x f!reader, love triangle, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 190k

Catch-22 Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★ WIP | ON HOLD

Catch-22: a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions. | Even if you knew every word to exist in every language known to man, you would still be certain that there was no better way to describe your relationship with Sam Kiszka. SERIES | ON HOLD

Blurbs

Early Morning Fluff ♡

Kissing in the rain ♡

Sam giving you his sweater ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Daniel Wagner

Bugs, Bears, and a Thunderstorm ♡ ☾

Y/n is not particularly enthusiastic about a camping trip. A set of unfortunate circumstances ensues, turning out to give the best possible conclusion to the situation. She realizes that maybe camping isn’t so bad, after all. (Danny x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 12.5K

Fade Into You ♡ ★

A bad day leaves y/n searching for solace in her boyfriend, Danny. He’s quick to the rescue, showing his unconditional love and willingness to help however he can. (Danny x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 6k

Guilty Pleasures ♡ ☾ ★

Due to a strong foundation of trust and a willingness to share, a situation which would normally be catastrophic seems to turn out to be quite rewarding. (Danny x f!reader, Jake x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20.4k

Belladonna ♡ ☾ ★ WIP

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory. SERIES | WIP

Blurbs

Doing each others hair ♡

Danny helping when you’re overwhelmed ♡

In the rain ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

[irrlicht-writes]

Behind-the-scenes hc thingies for Cash or Check! I probably forgot like half of them, lol.

Are they hc's when it's my own fanfic...?

-Alastor dislikes sex -Alastor didn't start out liking kissing, but kissing Vox makes his lips tingle and that's quite interesting let's keep doing it -He likes feeling weight on top of him (Vox optional) someone should introduce him to weighted blankets -He likes sleeping on top of Vox so he can hear/feel his heartbeat (Vox not optional, sadly) -He keeps everything Vox gave him, even if he might forget he has it in the first place -He doesn't mind following in a dance but he usually ends up leading anyway even if he keeps doing the woman's steps -He used to go to every opening night of Vox's movies and talked about them in his radio show when he knew Vox wouldn't be listening -Not that Vox will ever know, but when there was a competitor, they would "miraculously" disappear -He loves Vox, but he doesn't have the words to say it -If things had gone differently, he might've been open to having sex with Vox one day willingly -He has stolen some of Vox's clothes but has never worn them (he's unsure why he took them it just felt right) -He dreams about eating Vox sometimes -Vox is special to him, even more so than Niffty -Alastor doesn't know how or when he fell in love, Vox was just something entertaining/interesting at first before that shifted -Vox gets forgiven for everything, he can literally do no wrong (that doesn't mean he won't get shamed to oblivion for mistakes it's just that Alastor will forgive and move on) -He can yap about Vox for hours and not realise what he sounds like (Husk is a prefered suffering victim) -He has gender dysphoria (usually it's hardly an issue but lately it's been getting worse I wonder why) -As a child, he killed fifteen dogs in eight months' time -He tried to kill himself twice but didn't succeed -He's far-sighted but due to convience, he'd wear his glasses all the time -Alastor's initial, unspoken reaction to Vox's first proposal was "Are you fucking insane?" -In the same vein, he got a ring custom-made for Vox (it's white-blue with shark motif) -Alastor rarely ever gets in the mood and when he does it's more like a chore and Vox is not required to assist (Murder only gets him in the mood for more murder) -He indulges Niffty in her roleplay sometimes (pretending to be the big bad evil king with her as his princess) (Husk usually serves as the loyal royal steed (he's not being asked)) -Alastor likes soft things, although he's not entirely aware of it -He's a tease and likes to flirt but he's also prone to just walking off in a conversation (Flirting only goes one way, not the other) -Alastor's favourite position is none of them -He is the last to sleep and the first to wake -Unless Vox is there; when Vox is there Alastor falls asleep as soon as he gets tired

-Vox loves Alastor -He likes it whenever Alastor would put his hands on Vox's chest (it makes him feel big and strong and manly) -He loves how dainty Alastor is -His small waist is making Vox feel things that are not pg13 -Alastor absolutely terrifies him, like a beautiful monster -Vox used to be more creative, but it slowly drained out of him -Rodriguez doesn't work for him anymore, but they still have contact from time to time -Vox had been married with three children he didn't care for and often forgets even existed -He used to coerce young girls to have sex with him -Alastor is the first one he's tried his bisexual side with -He loves Al, but he also loves Val -When having sex with Val, he sometimes accidentally calls him Al (which Val often just hears as his own name so Vox's screen is spared destruction) -Vox's favourite position is all of them -Even while surrounded by highly skilled technicians, Vox usually only trusts himself and Alastor to handle the tech in his head -He has more wet dreams about Alastor than he likes to admit -He loves the soft fur on Alastor's body -While he won't pry, he'd really like to know the stories of Alastor's numerous scars - they are a part of the man he loves -Vox loves Alastor so, so much -He's not into feet at all, but Alastor's hooves are a completely different thing -His clothes on Alastor drive him insane -Calling Alastor a girl is a little like a game to him - he likes to be a big man -He doesn't really understand Alastor most of the time but he hardly lets that stop him -He'll never tell anyone but Alastor squeaks quietly when he sleeps

-Niffty's human name was Alice and she got adopted from an orphanage when she was seven -Neither of them know it, or will ever find out, but Niffty is in fact Alastor's biological daughter -Alastor yapped about Vox on three seperate occasions, so Rosie had the man investigated before concluding that her bestie had, yet again, went and picked up a stray -Velvette is a lesbian and considers Bunny to be "one of the girls" -Velvette and Alastor play HellVille together

-Everything you see posted is the first draft (let's not count notes) which probably makes me a bad author :) -I also probably forgot about half of what I wanted to write here :)

[misslavenderlady]

4 with David. 🙈

I Want The Hurt 🖤

David/Female!Reader

David was a complete gentleman. After telling you that he was a vampire, he became quite open about the great history he had lived through. Under that punk biker aesthetic was an old soul who wanted to treat you like a real lady.

He wined and dined you at your favorite restaurants. He gave you his coat whenever the evening breeze chilled your skin. After taking you home, he'd press a kiss to the back of your hand, wishing you a restful remainder of the night.

The two of you couldn't be more in love. And yet, you sensed he was holding back on you.

David made it perfectly clear to you that his vampiric strength was not something to take lightly. He proved such a thing whenever you watched the gory feeding sessions that he and his brothers indulged in. If he wanted to, he could break a human being in half as if he were snapping a pencil.

You never saw that side of David when you two were intimate. He was a generous lover, always satisfying you with the most gentle love making possible. Every inch of your body was savored by the immortal creature. You had become a deity for him to worship.

Though you loved the way he treated you, there was a craving deep inside you that longed for more. Something that yearned for the danger and fear that came with having a vampire lover.

You fantasized about pain at David's hand. In the daylight hours you dreamed about him fucking you like a wild animal. You fingered yourself to the idea of him scratching, biting and bruising your body. You came hard to the fantasy of him breaking you just because he could.

The curiosity was too much. You needed to feel the hurt. The sweet suffering.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking from me, darling?" he drawled. You had poured your heart out to him in the darkest corner of the cave. With your heart pounding and your hands sweaty, he could tell you were far too nervous to tell him this in the light. Fear of seeing how he'd react to such a thing.

"I know," you assured him. "I trust you completely, David. We have safe words, limits, aftercare, all that. I just…fuck, I want to see what a monster you truly are."

David's own interest peaked. He adored his human lover with all of his undead heart. Never before had he wanted to care for someone. Be gentle and kind. Give them the world if they ask. It was a desire he thought would be lost with the abandonment of his humanity.

And yet, he wanted to show his true power. Mark them completely as his forever mate and show what he could truly do.

So he asked you a simple question.

"You know I love you, right?"

Though you were engulfed in darkness, you still nodded. His powerful eyes could detect your motions. A moment passed before said eyes lit up in the shadows area. Gold and red shimmering back at you with a glint of deviousness.

"Good. Because I have every intention of fucking you like I don't~"

That was the last thing he said to you before grabbing at your waist with clawed fingers and dragging you further into the abyss. He had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

[moiyume]

death is the only end for us — chapter i. the bird.

pairing: yandere!satoru gojo x fem!reader

sumary: The news about Suguru's disastrous death shakes [Y/N], Gojo convinces her to return home to bury him. However, [Y/N] is unable to see that Gojo's real intentions are darker than she imagines.

warnings: angst, description of blood and death body, threats, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, spoilers from the main story.

word count: 2829.

more information about the history: here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

SOMETIMES WE SEE A DEAD BIRD LYING ON THE GROUND. Sometimes the dead bird is you or someone you love. You believe that no one else is capable of deceiving you at this point of the championship, yet the words of the man in front of you sounded like the purest falsehood to your ears, but your heart and the part of you that knew him knew that those words were not lies. The dead bird lying on the ground beneath your feet was Suguru Geto, your best friend.

Last month you talked face to face and he told you about his plans for Christmas and New Year. You would meet during the January holidays or in February for the Brazilian carnival, you would like to show him the hustle and bustle of downtown Rio de Janeiro, take him to Sapucaí, to enjoy together as you used to do every year since you ran away. But your plans were thwarted by his death and you had nothing left, no one you could trust, the person who took care of you all those years was gone and took with him the hopes of one day returning home without people seeing you as a monster or a traitor.

You let go of Satoru's t-shirt and fall to the ground on your knees, your heart breaks into millions of pieces that you don't think you will be able to put back together again, tears flow incessantly but you don't make a single noise. You place your hand on your chest and lean forward until your face touches the rough pavement floor, you open your mouth to scream but there is no strength in you to do so, you feel only a bitter taste of defeat in your mouth.

You pour the sadness encased within you onto the pavement and still it doesn't seem enough. Gojo's arms surround you and lift you up, and wrap you in a tight embrace, the loss wasn't just yours but his too, for that reason you don't back down, you just cry against his chest like there's no tomorrow. You wonder if he cried when his best friend died, you wonder where he was when it happened, you wonder why he didn't save you and you can't help but think that if you were by his side things might have been different. Now there is only half of you in this horrible world and the other has most likely been turned to ashes.

You leave the comfort of that embrace and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your dress, you look from side to side not knowing exactly where to look, you are lost and confused, you want to go back in time and hear Suguru's voice again, with this thought wandering through your mind tears flood your eyes again, Gojo holds your face and makes you face his. He looks calm, but there's a storm about to rain down in his eyes, he's trying hard to calm you down, uselessly.

"I'm sorry." He wails from the bottom of his selfish heart and rubs his thumb over her wet cheek. "But you need to go home, he's waiting for you for... you know... the funeral..."

You raise your eyebrows wide-eyed. So it hasn't been long since it happened, you conclude. You pick up the portrait you accidentally dropped on the floor when making that scene and shrug, remorse crashing over you like a bucket of cold water, rattling your entire body with an icy chill. You feel a friendly hand hold your shoulder, but right now it felt as oppressive as the pain you felt in your chest.

"How long has it been?" you question, unable to accept Suguru's death, you glance at Satoru out of the corner of your eye and his face turns grim again. "Who did this to him?"

There weren't many people in the world who could get close enough to hurt Suguru Geto, two of them were here, you and Satoru, you wonder how many powerful wizards have emerged since your departure and condemn yourself for choosing to remain oblivious to the world you are a part of. You weren't dumb, you knew that Suguru could seem like a bad person to anyone who didn't know him and that his sour personality wasn't to everyone's liking, so you deduced that he would be an enemy; and his enemy was your enemy too.

"It was me." Satoru answered without hesitation making you freeze. "Two days ago."

A dry, snapping sound echoes through the street drawing the attention of the curious, you slap his face hard enough to leave a mark on his cheek and take his balance away, you have no idea where you got the courage to do it, but you did. Your hand is tingling, the guilt leaves your body and gives way to hatred that ignites in your soul like a spark that falls on a pile of straw and spreads dangerously, the cursed energy dormant inside you begins to overflow and makes the air thin, almost impossible to breathe, the people who passed by on the street start to feel sick and Satoru stares at you in despair. You could kill everyone right now, but your target wasn't innocent people, it was the giant snowman in front of you. You prepare to punch him with all my strength, however he holds your hand, a shockwave rushes down to the ground and the concrete above your feet cracks on impact, you hear the frightened people comment and turn away from the scene, but no you don't care. Your whole body is shaking from the anger.

"How dare you come here and tell me it was you who killed him?" you question him, the words came out so fast and with such anger, you don't care that you spat at him, you move your arms violently and pull the hand he was still holding. Finally, you face him with eyes full of hateful tears. "You came to kill me too?! Is that it? You're going to kill all the people you say you love?"

A deadly silence settles between you during the trip back to Japan. No matter how many times you remember the outcome of the conversation, the answers you heard were disturbing enough to keep you over twelve hours of flying completely silent. Everything is wrong, you don't know why you agreed to go back with Satoru with the possibility of being killed at any moment, maybe because you wanted to say goodbye to your best friend, however you realized that you've really only come this far because you lost all attachment you felt for your life the moment you learned that Geto died at Gojo's hands. You want to die with him.

You hate him for killing Geto. More so because he told you there was no choice. There was a choice and he made it, he killed him. You weren't able to look at him after your conversation, all the things he said after that went in one ear and out the other, you don't want to know how many innocent people died that night, and how many more could have died if he hadn't done what he did, you want to spend the holiday with my best friend, complain about his mediocre life and listen to him talk about his daughters and his new friends, about his achievements and about his dreams.

Suguru and you had a funny dream that you, the villains, would find a happy ending together. Him doing whatever he wanted to do with the non-wizards and you going back to the cosiness of your old home, with my family, consisting of your elder sister and your nephews. Sadly, only one of pits survived to fulfil this dream, you smile darkly at the thought. No, you are not fulfilling this dream, because you are still seen as a villain, and you will never be able to see your family again, because the only person who fought for your innocence was killed by the man who never believed in you.

You were sent to the place where the burial would be through a teleportation spell, no one knows you're back after all, the spell leaves you so bewildered that you're surprised the moment you realise what this place is; the hill where Suguru and you killed the first special grade curse together. It's an important place for both of you - for you - there are traces of the cursed energy of both of you everywhere, some fight marks remain on the trees and grass, the flowers that usually grow in the valley are buried by the thick layer of snow, but it's a pleasant sight nonetheless. The bare, dry, twisted tree at the top of the hill on the other hand is a morbid sight, it looks like it died recently too. So does it.

You approach the tree and finger the phrase carved into the aiaigasa-shaped wooden trunk "Sugu + [Y/N] friends forever". A weak involuntary smile is present on your tired countenance, you were not in love with each other, but at some points in your life you regret choosing Gojo as your partner at the time, you were genuinely happy, even though your relationship had a disastrous end. And you think he knows that you regret choosing him. Maybe he regrets choosing you too, you would never judge him if he told you.

Watching the tree you are able to see the ghosts of his past. The young Suguru and young [Y/N] lying on the grass dirty with blood and dirt, they are looking at the sky and then at each other and start laughing, the young [Y/N] turns sideways and rests her face on her hand to face her best friend, you two are talking about some teenage bullshit, he wanted to be a hero and you wanted to be an ordinary person. It breaks your heart to know that neither of you got what you wanted; he became a curse user and you became a mercenary.

You leave your daydreams when you hear twigs cracking under someone's feet. You spin under your heels and frown as you see Satoru with a body covered by a sheet in his arms, you had a switchblade hidden in the sleeve of your jacket, ready to shove into the intruder's neck, but to your chagrin the intruder was only the gravedigger. You admit it was hard for you to see him holding the corpse of your best friend, you can't go to the morgue because in theory you are still an escapee so you can't see the state the body is in before we come here, you feel a lurch in your stomach as the smell of blood and decay reaches your nose. Gojo places the body on the grass and looks at you with the shovel already over his shoulder.

"I'm going to go dig. In the meantime you can say goodbye, I just don't recommend taking the sheet off, the sight won't be very pleasant." He warns and the message sends shivers down your spine, you look away from the body and feel like crying again, Satoru places his hand on your shoulder but quickly removes it after your threatening look. "Sorry."

You kneel beside the corpse and even with the warnings remove the sheet, you kept in mind that if you couldn't face him you could never get over the loss, the image of his perfect face would forever be in your memory and make you cry more than necessary, if there is an exact amount of tears to be shed.

You feel the bile rise up in your throat as you see his partially destroyed body, there is an arm missing, it seems to have been torn off violently by a powerful force, his face is also destroyed on the right side, you wonder how Satoru had the courage to leave him like that and come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't him who really killed Geto. You shake your head in fear thinking too much, there was no plausible reason for him to lie about Suguru's death, and you doubt he would cover up for his best friend's killer, because to him no one is above Suguru. You wonder how Nanako and Mimiko, his daughters, are doing, do they know their father is dead? Did Satoru tell them?

You hold Geto's hand and it is cold and stiff, his whole body is, you open it and lean it against your face, he used to hold your face whenever you wanted to cry. You shed tears on it and hold back the sobs, you are afraid of what your life will be like from now on, what your life will be like without him, you will never get a call from him again, you will never be able to see him smile, the more you think about it the more tears fall.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." You beg for his forgiveness and grab the corpse hoping he will wake up from his eternal sleep and hold you, but nothing happens, you let out a strangled scream and swing the corpse without stopping. "I can't stand being alone anymore... please... please... don't leave me..."

Satoru finished digging the grave and waited patiently under the tree until you stopped crying and kept quiet, you don't know if out of respect, pity or a mixture of the two, but you were thankful that he didn't address you or make any unfortunate comments. Before handing Suguru to him, you give a kiss on his forehead, Satoru was extremely annoyed, you whisper a few words in the deceased's ear and then the wounds on his body disappeared and the missing arm grew back, from bones to flesh, for an instant you could swear he was alive, for even the colour of his skin was back to how it was before. You would never let Suguru be buried looking that horrible and believe me he knew that only you could do that.

Then you linked your hands together in front of your chest with your eyes closed and let the cursed energy inside you flow into the frozen grass to the heavens. The snow disappeared and the sky opened up, spring descended and the sun appeared on the horizon announcing the arrival of dawn, the flowers on the hill blossomed, and the birds sang again, the once dead tree came back to life, the flowers and fruits were born even brighter than they used to be. The hill filled with life once more, as if winter had never come.

"Like in the world?!" Satoru exclaimed stunned, and you stood up slowly with the body in your arms, you stared at each other in silence for a minute before you handed it to him. "Looks like Suguru was right when he said you could fix anything, even death." He laughs in a sinister way.

"!!!"

You say nothing but your expression said it all; you feared that your secrets would be discovered by this person, the truth about your true nature was something that no one in this world should know, it doesn't seem that Satoru knows anything but the chance that Suguru might have let something slip in his last moments makes you distressed. You remain silent as Satoru buries him and walks down the hill to pick some flowers to leave over the grave. You return to the tree and now there is only a rectangular mark in the earth, there is no plaque saying Suguru Geto lies buried here; no, there is only a tree, a handful of flowers and two idiots here.

"He wanted you to be buried here because he said you could bring life back to this place." Gojo reaches out to pick up a rose petal that danced in the air, before crumpling it and releasing it for the wind to carry again. "I guess he was right."

"Not entirely." You interrupt him without intending to, in fact you could make the sky open up and flowers bloom in the middle of winter, but just that, you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and look away. "I can't resurrect anyone, before you want to nail me as Christ, that's temporary, an imaginary space. It's not real."

"It looks pretty real to me." He retorts dismissively as he pats the tree trunk, you roll your eyes.

"It'll let it be at some point. It's not real."

"Like the people you killed?" you feel a shiver run down your spine as you see Satoru's shadow approach you, you turn towards him abruptly and stumble, you take a few steps backwards in order to increase the distance between you but he continues to approach. "It's time to pay for what you've done."

⠀⠀⠀⠀───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

━ to be continued; ﹢ ⌑ ﹒

[aromanticautiesworld]

If you write poly, can you do poly finntress? Also I'm curious will moth experience bi panic via finntress?

oh yes absolutely i write poly please send me poly requests! not 2 ramble about mushrooms but this first part (there will be multiple parts) kinda takes place middle of season 5-ish (sorry flame princess was with finn earlier in the timeline so mushrooms isn’t right after their breakup) there wont be any bi panic from moth abt fintress BUT! definitely in later parts (i love huntress wizard so much). ANYWAYS request time !

////

poly fintress with a gender neutral reader

word count: 1098

You squirm your way through the underbrush of the forest, following the path of the boy with the bear hat.

You were more introverted and withdrawn around other people than Finn, so he would sometimes take you with him (often very much like this) to meet new cool people he knew. Not that you object to any of this, most of the people Finn knows are cool with you too—as long as they’re not some sort of shapeshifting monster or illusion trick. That’s also happened before, unfortunately. While terrifying in the moment, you two look back and laugh about it. But still, never again.

So here you are now, legs halfway dipped into a creek, its weak current tugging at your clothes (which you regret wearing. Why couldn’t you have worn your waterproof pants today. Or at LEAST shorts).

“This is the spot where we usually meets. Me and yous just gotta wait,”

“And you’re a hundred percent sure she’s not a demon? Or a cursed witch?”

“Yeah I am dude. Hero’s honor,”

You consider. “Arrite,” You punch him in the shoulder, “I’m trusting you on this one,”

You both hear a rustle of branches and leaves coming from the opposite side of the river, and who you think is some sort of cat-person at first, based on the eyes that appear out of the darkness, effortlessly pushes her way out of the woods.

“What’s up, dudes,” She puts her bow back in its sheath, a bow that seems to have been drawn ready to fire a few seconds ago. You’re a little concerned about that, but if anything it makes you want to get to know this stranger more (also the name ‘Huntress Wizard’ could’ve spelled it out for you, but you didn’t think she’d be hunting right then).

“Meh, nuthin’ much. You said you wanted someone who can sing for this spell, right?” He gestures over to you, “They can sing,”

“Hey,” You pipe up awkwardly from where you stand, both still sort-of behind Finn and halfway in the water. Small fish swim past your legs.

“Hey,” She makes her way over to you, now also halfway in the river and half soaked, seemingly inspecting you, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re what we’ve been looking for,”

Ah. Pretty. Girl. Close to you. You are, at this moment, very normal and very functional. Both of those things.

“Thanks? Um. I mean I’m..I’m down to help with anything you guys need,” Glob, you feel like a student trying to talk to the ‘cool kids’ in one of those old teen movies right now. What is happening…

“Thanks dude! Love it when my friends are friends,” Finn grins, missing teeth only adding to his charm.

You now found yourself singing for a spell to bring forth some ancient magical plant. You wouldn’t say you didn’t care about that, it was a very cool thing, but your mind was occupied by…other topics.

The two taller people in front of you play their flutes, somehow in tune with your voice. Magic spreads in the air, emanating from both their playing and you, along with a feeling similar to when the air pressure drops before a storm begins (but with a more comforting feeling than that of impending doom).

…

Wait, no. That was actually the air pressure dropping.

The sky flashes with lightning, breaking open and letting loose a torrent of rain.

“Shelter! Quick!” Huntress yells out.

You start to follow her, when you’re quickly brought off of your feet and out of the now-muddy ground, scooped up by Finn. The water that’s suddenly pouring down on the three of you in the clearing and the flashes accompanied by thunderclaps do nothing to snap you out of your shocked and flustered state, and your face burns.

You’re eventually put down, now in the safety of a nearby cave, and are still recovering.

“Sorry about that, haha…” Finn chuckles nervously, “I might have panicked a little,”

You say nothing for a second, still stunned, before zoning back in.

“No, I would’ve done the same thing…at least, I would if I was as strong as you are,”

Finn ruffles through his backpack, while Huntress casts a spell under her breath to light a pile of twigs you guys’d found ablaze.

Finn then dumps out the contents of his backpack (a copy of Ble, an old sandwich, an uncursed dagger, the head of a mini cyclops, an energy bar, miscellaneous pens, and many other items now strewn across the floor.

“Guys. I don’t have my emergency sleeping bags,”

You both look up, Huntress now finished starting the fire.

“Looks like we have to huddle. We can use my cape as a sleeping bag for now,”

“Well…wait. Who’s gonna be where?”

“What’chya mean?” Finn asks from where he gathers the contents of his bag back to where they came from.

“I mean who’s gonna be on the edge, who’s being in the middle…”

“Hmmm…It’s just for one night, so…What do you think, Huntress?”

“I think you should be in the middle,” She turns towards you as she talks.

Your brain is flooded with both giddy excitement, and slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m good with that. What do you think?”

“Yes. Yes. Good. Cool. Very good,” You nod quickly, shooting them a thumbs up. Words aren’t working too great for you right now, it seems.

Huntress takes off her cape, her hair (leaves?) are very pretty, spreads it out—this thing is big—onto the floor of the cave, and rolls herself up into one side of it. Finn then drops down his bag (he’s managed to put everything back) And rolls into the cape on the other side. Your turn.

You snuggle in between the two, heart practically beating out of your chest, and unbeknownst to the two surrounding you, a large grin on your face.

You were the first to fall asleep, of course, and both Finn and Huntress reflected on today.

You’re cool. A cool person to add to their weird little relationship-hangout thing they have going on. Based on what Huntress has seen today (that you’d tried to hide, to no avail. You were way more obvious about your crush on her than Finn was), and on what Finn knows about you, you wouldn’t object if they asked. If you did they would back off of course, but he knows that’s not the case.

Drip, Drip, Drip…

Honestly, it was very peaceful in this cave. The sound of rain outside, your steady breathing, the warmth you all shared.

You guys should do this every night.

[cur3kuppa]

Well I may know next to nothing about my PMATGA OC Sydney’s childhood, and her being a idol/villain is a headcanon in and of itself.

So, based on the little I know, this is what I imagine her childhood to have been like:

1. Her Origins – The Pac-Walker Powers

Sydney was born in a remote, mystical part of PacTokyo, far from the bustling cities, to a powerful and enigmatic family that had ties to both the mystical and the primal. Her father, a warlord from an ancient family known for their wolf-like abilities, could summon the strength and ferocity of wolves and shapeshift under the moonlight. However, her father was cruel, dominating, and prone to fits of rage, using his powers to control and instill fear in those around him. Sydney inherited her father's wolf powers: enhanced senses, agility, strength, and the ability to transform into a half-wolf form. From a young age, she struggled with this duality of Pac-Person and beast. Her powers were a constant reminder of her father’s tyranny. Her PTSD began with a childhood steeped in fear, abuse, and abandonment. Her father, consumed with his own dark ambitions, was hardly ever home, leaving her with emotional scars. Sydney became a perfectionist in her own right, pushing herself to control her powers but never feeling truly in control of her life.

2. The Trauma from Her Father

Her father’s emotional abuse created a deep, lasting trauma. She was often forced to fight or fend for herself, learning to hide her fear beneath a mask of stoicism. Her father wanted her to be his successor, but instead, she saw the evil that ran through his veins, and every time he used her as a tool for his control, it chipped away at her soul. Eventually, Sydney tried to run away, seeking refuge in the streets of Pacopolis, but the scars from her father's cruelty were too deep to escape. The PTSD she developed was rooted in the gaslighting, manipulation, and physical torment she endured from him. She developed trust issues and a deep sense of self-doubt, convinced that no one would ever see her for who she truly was beyond the monster her father had tried to make her.

3. Her Mother's New Marriage – Pazma and Radian

When Sydney’s father disappeared, her mother Pazma remarried a man named Radian, an enigmatic figure with an aura of calm that seemed to contradict the chaos Sydney had grown up with. Radian was a well-meaning, noble figure, who saw past Sydney's hardened exterior. He was a pacifist and believed in the power of healing and unity. Under his guidance, Sydney began to open up emotionally, learning how to embrace her wolf side rather than fear it. He helped her control her transformations and taught her the value of inner peace. But Sydney could never shake the feeling of being abandoned by her real father. She loved Radian, but a part of her resented him for marrying her mother and ‘replacing’ her father. The contrast between her biological father’s violence and Radian’s peaceful nature created an inner conflict in Sydney, causing her to withdraw emotionally from both men in different ways.

4. Her Evolution into Evil

Despite her mother's peaceful nature and Radian’s influence, Sydney’s unresolved trauma made her vulnerable to darker influences. She met Betrayus during a period when she felt lost and powerless, struggling with her sense of identity. Betrayus, ever the manipulator of the Netherworld, saw potential in Sydney. He offered her to help him to defeat Pac-Man and rule over Pac-World. In Lord Betrayus, Sydney saw the strength and power she had always craved—someone who could take what they wanted without remorse. Under Betrayus’ influence, Sydney began to embrace her darker side, slowly succumbing to the allure of power. The promise of ruling and unleashing her wolf-like ferocity on those who had hurt her became too tempting. She became more cunning, using her talents in music and performance as a tool for manipulation to hypnotize all Pac-People or any beings. She entered the entertainment industry under the alias "Syd the Wild" and quickly rose to fame, using her music to control the minds of her fans and strengthen Betrayus' empire and the Netherworld Through her music, Sydney began to lure others into Betrayus’ schemes, initially out of a desire for acceptance and power, but eventually becoming addicted to the feeling of dominance. Her PTSD, combined with Betrayus’ promises of retribution, fueled her growing ruthlessness. She began to see herself not as the victim, but as the one who would control the game.

5. Her Duality – The Singer and the Villain

Sydney’s public persona as a famous singer contrasts sharply with her hidden life as a manipulative agent of Betrayus. On stage, she is charismatic, beautiful, and mesmerizing, using her voice to enchant and seduce. But beneath the glamorous façade lies a ruthless villainess who struggles with her inner demons, torn between the remnants of her old self—wanting peace, innocence, justice, and love—and the new, more cynical version of herself shaped by Betrayus’ teachings. Her music serves as both a weapon and a release. Each song she performs is a reflection of her internal battle: one moment seductive and alluring, the next dark and twisted, echoing the turmoil she feels inside. Her wolf powers, meanwhile, remain an ever-present reminder of the primal side of her nature, ready to unleash at any moment when her anger or pain boils over.

6. Her Relationship with Betrayus

Sydney's relationship with Betrayus is complicated. She’s both attracted to his power and repelled by his lack of empathy. Betrayus, knowing Sydney’s tragic history, uses her trauma to further manipulate her. However, in their twisted bond, Sydney finds someone who understands the depths of her pain and offers her something her father never could: the chance to make the world bend to her will. But Sydney, still haunted by her past, is never fully able to trust Betrayus, and there's always a lingering sense of unease about their connection. In time, she starts to wonder if her choice to ally with him is truly a path to redemption, or if she’s just perpetuating the same cycle of violence and abuse she grew up with.

7. Her Character Arc – Redemption or Damnation?

Syd’s story is one of a broken soul trying to find her way in a world that’s torn between love and hate. She struggles with her PTSD, the trauma from her biological father, and the powerful allure of Betrayus’ evil harem. Whether she ultimately redeems herself by Pac or succumbs to the darkness will depend on the choices she makes as her journey unfolds.

This backstory allows Sydney to be a tragic figure with a rich internal conflict. She’s a blend of victim and villain, and her struggle between her dark side and her more noble desires creates tension in her relationships with Betrayus, her mother, and father. By giving her wolf powers, PTSD, and complex relationships.

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 12: The Tourists // The Hacker

HELLO ALL. I hope you're having a lovely January and I haven't missed too many cool trends or posts or what have you. Behold, a fucking monster of a chapter that I should have split into two!

some fun links! first, here is a crinoid. i didn't even make it up, that's really what it looks like. second, if you like the natural history museum as much as kirk, spock, and i do, you might like this book: otherlands. these links will make more sense after reading.

This chapter is also posted on my AO3 here. :)

Okay. Here's the chapter. Off I go again to play too much Tetris. Hugs and kisses.

☆☆☆

Kirk woke up with a crick in his neck and a twinge in his spine. His alarm sounded suspiciously far away, and it wasn’t until he peeled his eyes open that he remembered his rash decision to sleep on his couch. His alarm beeped aggressively from its spot next to his bed, and he dragged Spock’s blanket over his shoulders as he shuffled across the room to turn it off. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed as the lights came on, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of the blanket, which still held the slightest reminder of Spock.

He felt like someone had wrung out his spirit like a sponge, but at least a night of sleep had rubbed the sharpest edges off his emotions. For a moment he considered laying down on his bed, dragging the blanket back over his head, and giving up on the day before it had really begun--- but he was the captain. He had responsibilities. He pulled the blanket to his face one more time, inhaling as much as he could, before standing, dropping it back on the couch, and heading into the bathroom to shower. 

He and Spock had fought before. In the early days of his captaincy, before he had understood that the Vulcan’s questions and disagreements were the logical outputs of a logical mind and not a personal attack on his leadership, they had fought frequently. But slowly, over time, they had settled into a rhythm that forced them both to be better than either of them were individually. Kirk could only hope that they would be able to find that rhythm again. He would apologize as soon as he could find the words. As soon as he felt like a real human being again and not a faded copy of one. 

Kirk stepped out of the sonic, shaved, dressed, and left their quarters before coming to an abrupt halt. A white wall stood in silent judgment in front of him. With a sinking heart, he realized that some small part of him had been hoping that, despite everything, Spock would be standing outside the door. The turbodoor closed behind him as he stared at the wall, willing Spock to materialize. But he did not. Kirk walked down the hallway alone.

☆☆☆

Bones and Uhura were eating breakfast together at a square four-top table, but Spock was nowhere to be seen when Kirk entered the officers’ mess. Bones was probably still angry with him for vanishing out of Medbay, and if Kirk had to guess he would assume that Uhura would take Spock’s side in their breakup, if that’s what it was. Kirk had to admit that, if he were her, Kirk would too. Didn’t she say, right at the start, that he had better be good to Spock? He stood in the entrance to the mess, frozen, the beginnings of a cage forming around his lungs. He had wrecked his relationships; he had lost Spock, and then Uhura for good measure, and pushed Bones away and the woman in whom he had placed all of the trust he had left after Tarsus had lied to him and hurt Kevin in his name---

“Jim!” At the sound, Kirk snapped to attention. Bones waved at him with a half-eaten piece of toast, and when their eyes met Bones kicked the chair next to him out from the table. Kirk blinked, but made it across the mess mostly and slid into the chair Bones had indicated. 

“If there’s ever been a man more in need of a cup of joe, I haven’t met him,” Bones said to Uhura, and she nodded solemnly. 

“I was just about to get another. Would you like one, captain?” Her voice was perfectly even; her liquid-dark eyes met his without hesitation. 

“That would be nice,” he said, the first words he’d said that day coming out rough, and she nodded. As she walked away, Bones turned to him. 

“How are you holding up, Jim?” The kindness in his eyes was unexpected. Kirk, undeserving, turned away from it. 

“Are you going to remove me from command?” It wasn’t the question he meant to ask, but in the end, it was the only one that mattered. 

“Jesus Christ, Jim, absolutely not,” Bones said, shocked into stillness, and the authenticity of his reaction pulled Kirk’s eyes back to him. “You still owe me about a hundred more answers, and they had better be honest ones this time, but it’s not an impeachable offense to get in an argument. I wish you hadn’t fled while I was holding some poor kid’s skull together--- he’s fine, by the way, just an idiot--- but I’m glad you went to go talk to the lieutenant. If I had known enough about him, I would have told you to see him myself.” Bones patted his arm as Uhura approached with two steaming mugs. “You’re not suddenly a bad captain because someone lied to you, Jimmy. We’ll sort this out.” 

Uhura handed him the mug as Bones’s words settled into his mind, easing away some of the tightness that had taken root in his chest. She slipped back into her chair and wrapped both hands around her mug, breathing in the rich, warm smell. 

“Thank you,” Kirk said, sipping from his own mug. She flapped her hand at him in acknowledgement, and even that was friendly. He cast about for a safe topic of conversation before giving up on that idea. “So,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How’s Spock?” 

Uhura and Bones traded a glance that was far too immediate and synchronized to be insignificant. “He’s fine,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday lunch, though. He was working on some research project of his all night in the laboratories.” Kirk felt a slight thrill of vindication that he had guessed correctly where Spock would be, but he squashed it. 

“He’s… fine?” 

“Yes, captain,” Uhura said, in a tone that she might have adopted to explain something to a child. “He is fine. But you’re going to have to talk to him yourself if you want any more detail than that.” If Bones wasn’t angry, and Spock was fine, and Uhura was on speaking terms with Kirk, maybe, just maybe, there was a way that he could salvage his life on his ship. If he could figure out how to apologize for how he had behaved while still maintaining the boundary that he had placed between himself and Spock, maybe things could go back to normal.

Bones pushed his tray in front of Kirk as he took another sip of coffee. “Toast?” 

Grateful beyond measure for the both of them, Kirk snagged a piece. It was slightly burnt, and Bones always put an amount of jam on it that should have been illegal. It was delicious.

Kirk noticed three strange things when he stepped onto the bridge with Uhura, four minutes before the start of alpha. The first was that Scotty stood on the bridge, chatting with Sulu, when his typical work schedule indicated that he should have been down in Engineering. The second was that the science station was empty, even though Spock usually arrived six to ten minutes before the start of his shift. 

The third was that Starbase 27 loomed enormous in the viewscreen ahead of them, despite the fact that they weren’t scheduled to have been anywhere near it for another sixteen hours. Kirk blinked vigorously at the improbable sight, and then glanced to Scotty. Scotty beamed at him. 

“Morning, captain,” Scotty said, and those two words were so gleeful that Kirk half-expected steam to start whistling out from underneath his thatch of dark hair. There were a few other engineers leaning against the security station behind him, chatting amongst themselves, who also should have been down in the engine rooms rather than crowding his bridge. “Where’s your better half?” 

Kirk floundered. “In the laboratories,” he said faintly. “He was working on some research project.” 

“Isn’t he always,” Scotty said. “Well, we should wait for him to arrive.”

“Wait for? Scotty, what’s going on? How did we even get here?” Kirk gestured to the starbase in front of him, the one that should have been lightyears away from their current position. Behind him, the turbolift door slid open and Spock appeared, somber and handsome, as the ship’s clock ticked over to 0800 precisely. He tucked multiple padds into the pockets of his pants as he went straight to his station, long legs eating up the distance in three steps. 

“Mr. Spock! Just the man I wanted to see!” Scotty grinned at Spock, who straightened slowly and looked at Scotty with a completely blank face. For once half-second his eyes flicked to Kirk, as if to gauge Kirk’s thoughts on the matter, but then his gaze returned to Scotty before Kirk could react. 

“Good morning, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and his voice was gritty in the way that Kirk knew meant he hadn’t slept at all. 

“As I believe you can all tell, we have arrived at Starbase 27 a wee bit ahead of schedule,” Scotty said, clasping his hands excitedly in front of himself. He glanced at Spock again, who gave him an indulgent head tilt. “Just a wee bit. Nothing too wild. And any and all unregulated adaptations made to any and all engines have been reverted. So don’t ye worry. But, captain, commander…” Scotty looked over at the other engineers, who grinned. “Behold: yer wedding gift from the engineering department.” 

Kirk narrowed his eyes, parsing through exactly what Scotty was saying and not saying. “What did you do to the engines?” 

“Aye, never mind about that, sir,” Scotty said cheerfully. “But Janice helped us all arrange it, shift-wise. So here’s our gift to you.” 

“A starbase?” 

“As much of a honeymoon as we could provide,” Scotty said, and the engineers behind him bumped fists. “Before we pick up the brass and get real orders again. Time for you and Mr. Spock to be off-ship together.” Uhura covered her smile with one hand as Kirk’s heart sank. It was an ingenious feat of engineering, impossibly thoughtful, unbearably kind. He couldn’t possibly accept. There was no way that Spock would be willing to spend twelve hours with him on a honeymoon after yesterday, after skipping their morning routine.

“Scotty…” Kirk breathed, mentally digging for a way to let Spock out of it. But Spock’s eyes flashed to him again, and then Spock was speaking over him. 

“This is a thoughtful and considerate gift, Mr. Scott,” Spock said. “We are grateful for the effort you and your engineers exerted to do so. But,” and Kirk closed his eyes. There was the but. They were going to get divorced right here on the bridge and then Spock would leave. 

“I recommend that in the future you simply do not mention any adaptations.” Kirk opened his eyes, and Scotty beamed at Spock, who favored him with a teasing eyebrow. 

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Scotty agreed. “Mr. Kyle is waiting in the transporter room for you, at your convenience.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and finally turned to face Kirk. When his eyes met his, they were unreadable. But he said, “After you, captain.” 

“You have the conn, Scotty,” Kirk said, and with all the conviction he could muster: “Thank you.” 

“Our pleasure, captain,” Scotty said, and he took Kirk’s spot in the chair as Kirk walked on numb legs back to the turbolift. Spock walked a half step behind him, and turned to face the door as it closed between them and the bridge. Kirk’s eyes snagged on the proud set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw and the slight discoloration under his eyes that evidenced his lack of sleep. He needed to apologize. He wanted to take Spock’s hands in his again and let Spock do the awful work of sorting through his conflicting and contradictory desires. Maybe Spock could figure out the most logical path forward for them. Instead he said nothing.

Spock stopped the lift halfway to the transporter deck, and Kirk stiffened. The sudden silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Without turning to meet Kirk’s eyes, his gaze still steadily ahead, Spock asked, “Do you wish for the dissolution of our marriage, captain?” 

Kirk’s stomach dropped, and he snapped his eyes away. Of course he didn’t. If he lost Spock to another position after all of this, he would resign his commission and go back to Iowa to build ships instead. But he said, “I’ll do whatever you want, Spock.” 

“That is not an answer to the question that I posed,” Spock said. Kirk turned at Spock’s firm tone. Spock’s eyes were locked on him, his head cocked slightly, and his cold anger from yesterday had been replaced with a probing intensity. “I asked what you wanted.” 

He could lie to Spock again. He could tell him that he wanted a divorce, and free them both from the path that he had set them on. He would lose his best friend and grieve for the rest of his life, but he could force himself to say the words. But he thought of Bones’s shock-slackened face at Kirk’s admission, and Uhura’s kindness this morning even though he had been cruel to the man they both cared for, and he thought of Kevin Riley’s silent suffering at the recommendation of the woman who had shaped him. 

“No,” he said. The word was out of him before he could convince himself that it was wrong. It was reckless, maybe irresponsible, but it was what he wanted. “I don’t.”

Spock’s shoulders loosened the slightest amount, and he restarted the lift. When he looked back at Kirk at the corner of his eye, there was almost a smile in the tilt of his head. 

“Good,” he said. Kirk gaped at him, but he fixed his eyes forward again. Before he could pose any of his follow-up questions, which mainly consisted of ‘what the hell?,’ the turbolift deposited them in the empty hallway that led to the transporter. Spock stepped out, but Kirk hesitated. He at least owed Spock one more graceful exit from what was sure to be an unpleasant and awkward day.

“Spock…” 

Spock swung around immediately, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, captain?”

“We don’t have to do this,” Kirk said. 

“Clarify.” 

“You don’t even like shore leave,” Kirk said. “You could---”

“But you do,” Spock said evenly. Kirk opened his mouth, but Spock continued over him, “Your stress levels have been unacceptably high for the past eight days. Your efficiency is decreased by 10.2%, your general morale lowered by more, and I do not foresee a better opportunity for you to relieve this stress before we spend the next two weeks with the admirals onboard, which, historically, has not been what you would describe as a ‘pleasant’ experience.” 

Kirk spluttered. “My stress levels are fine, Spock---” 

“They are not,” Spock said calmly. “And I understand that human beings consider it rude to reject a gift, especially when such effort was exerted to provide it. Therefore, we are going to the starbase.” Spock turned and started walking again, and Kirk strode after him to catch up. Before Kirk could drag him around by the elbow and force Spock to explain himself, even though he didn’t have a single leg to stand on when it came to demanding explanations for anything, Spock reached the door to the transporter and it opened before him. Engineer Kyle was already at the command board, grinning at them. 

“Mazel tov, sirs,” he said, and Spock inclined his head. Kirk smiled at him as best he could and followed Spock onto the transporter pad.

“Thank you, Mr. Kyle,” Kirk said. “Energize, please.” 

They arrived in the busy transport bay of an enormous, arched hall that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. They moved rapidly off the pad as other groups around them materialized or vanished, and Spock hovered by Kirk’s shoulder as Kirk blindly made his way out of the thronging crowd and to a quiet space along the wall of the space. Above them were hovering lights of a thousand colors, combining to create something similar to natural light, and along the walls of the throughway were signs for attractions, events, sales, and locations to visit. Storefronts peppered the hall, and more species than Kirk had ever seen before in one place mingled and shopped and ate and talked. It was beautifully boisterous, and for a moment he let the noise of the crowd wash over him.

“Captain, I researched the attractions on this base before our arrival, and had intended to visit a museum of some interest if given the opportunity. I believe you would enjoy it, if you cared to accompany me.” Spock stood with his hands behind his back, peering around at the sights with his permanent scientific curiosity. 

Kirk frowned. First Bones, then Uhura, and now Spock. Where were the consequences of his outbursts from the day before? He had lost control of himself, and there were supposed to be consequences for it. Kirk turned to Spock. He should let it go, accept the second chance he’d been given, but he couldn’t help himself. Spock looked as he always did, but Kirk was the one who had been changed. Facets of his identity, the rules that he lived by, had gone unchallenged for years and overnight someone had pulled the keystone out. The arch threatened to crumble.

“Spock, what is going on?” 

“We are on a starbase---” 

“No,” Kirk said, swiping his hand through the air as if to erase what might have been Spock’s wry humor. “I don’t understand. Yesterday, I--- I was unkind to you, and I upset you, don’t pretend that I didn’t, and now we’re on a starbase and you’re talking about my general morale and asking if I want to go to a museum with you?”

Spock watched a gaggle of young Andorians in school uniforms run down the tiled pathway towards the other end of the causeway before he said quietly, “I cannot deny that I had hoped, captain, that your trust in me would be sufficient to allow me to provide assistance or support when you were distressed.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kirk started, but Spock cut him off.

“It is. And I apologize for touching you after you revoked your permission to do so, but I was concerned for you. I wished to help you. However,, captain, it would be illogical for me to refuse to consider your needs now solely because of that situation. My duties to you are quite clear.” 

To cover the rising tightness in his throat, Kirk said, “I’m fairly certain that the first officer handbook doesn’t say that you have to be nice after your captain is an asshole to you.” 

“It does not,” Spock agreed. “But as you confirmed for me earlier, ‘for better and for worse’ still applies.” Kirk stared at him, dumbfounded, as Spock watched groups of people walk by. “So yes,” he continued. “I did ask if you would like to visit the museum with me.” He turned back to Kirk with one eyebrow raised. 

Spock did not reach out to touch him, but the warm brown of his eyes, his unwavering eye contact, the familiar set of his face, had the same comforting effect as the way he had passed his hand up and down Kirk’s back. A weight fell away from Kirk’s shoulders. He had been so convinced after yesterday that he would have to work for months to earn Spock’s forgiveness, and he had been willing to do it. He had thought that he had lost Bones’s and Spock’s trust on the same day, and lost Uhura’s respect as a casualty, and instead his friends had shown him such easy grace that he felt ashamed for having doubted them. The permission that they offered to him to be imperfect blindsided him. 

“I do trust you,” Kirk said. “And I’m sorry. For how I treated you yesterday.” 

“I am aware,” Spock said. “And I accept your apology. But I do hope that someday you will trust me with whatever this may be as well.” 

Kirk wanted to tell him that it wasn’t about him at all, that he didn’t doubt Spock’s trust but his own worth. But instead, as he felt the stirrings of his first genuine smile in forty-eight hours, he said, “So what’s this museum?” Spock kept his hands clasped behind his back, but walking side-by-side with him down the causeway, alone with him in the hustling crowd, made Kirk feel as though something integral inside himself had been repaired. 

☆☆☆

“Holy shit,” Kirk breathed. Spock had been right. This was a museum of some interest. As the front-line diplomats of the Federation to new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of the Enterprise crew’s time was spent either meeting the primary sentient species on a planet or assessing its flora and fauna as a threat. He so rarely got to appreciate the infinite diversity of organic life for what it was. But this museum was a masterclass in appreciation. 

It was built into four huge levels of the base, sprawling for at least a mile on each deck, with an intricate system of stairs, elevators, and escalators placed strategically for visitors to the starbase to follow the themes of evolution that most interested them. He couldn’t fathom the effort that it must have taken to assemble a display of this magnitude: each floor was dedicated to one of the four nearest solar systems, with a series of rooms devoted to each planet in the system, split within those rooms by form or function. A veritable army must have been necessary to create the casts of the skeletons and fossils and plant life, then paint and construct and model them among murals and dioramas that depicted what the organisms may have looked like in context. The lighting on each floor and in each room was based on the solar system’s primary star, and the planet’s unique characterisitics. One room was a cheery golden light not unlike Earth’s, whereas another was hued in pinks and purples because of the makeup of the atmosphere. Kirk could have happily moved into the museum, set up a tent in one of the summery plains dioramas, and never left. 

In front of him was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen. The closest Earth analogue would have been the giant ground sloths of the Pliocene era, but only if it had been amphibian and unconstrained by Earth’s relatively heavy gravity. A cross-section of its bone had been replicated for children to touch, mounted on the wall, and Kirk couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers in wonder against the curious texture. It was pocked with holes all the way through, which made it easier for these enormous and muscular creatures to swim through the highly salty waters of their indigenous oceans. The top of Kirk’s head only came up to the complicated hip joint of the model. 

“Indeed. I would be interested to see the method by which it swims,” Spock said, peering at the hip. “The range of motion of its legs must be immense.” Spock stood comfortably next to Kirk: not pressed against his shoulder, as he might have been before yesterday, but only a few inches separated them. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, and for all that Spock had said about Kirk requiring shore leave, Kirk thought that unstructured time wandering through a museum might have been good for Spock as well. They walked slowly between the dioramas. Rather than following one of the suggested paths, they had, without discussing it, decided to move through the museum linearly in order to see every exhibit. They had the time, after all. To Kirk’s delight, he learned immediately that Spock was the type to read every single informative panel before progressing to the next room. Kirk was the same way, when he was unrushed, but Sam had never had the patience to move that slowly through museums when they were children. They passed the hours of the morning meandering slowly through the rooms of the first two floors. They learned about the entirely aquatic planet of Shindon III, where amphibious peoples lived in sprawling coral cities in places where the currents carried warm water. The oceanic sloth creature was from this world, and was called the mother of the seas because of its role as the primary underwater pollinator. They witnessed a demonstration on the mechanics of how the enormous, bear-sized otters of Shindon V used acid to hunt smaller creatures, and watched a documentary on the symbiotic relationship between the nomadic populations of Detra IV and the nimble, camel-like quadrupeds that they rode across the steppes of their mountainous planet. 

The only time that Spock was more than a few feet away from Kirk was, in another aquatic room on the second floor, Kirk moved on after reading the panels and only realized after a few moments that Spock had not followed. He doubled back through the winding sandy maze of the room until he rounded a corner and halted. Spock stood still, bathed in the blue-green light of the display panel, hands hanging open by his sides as he stared, entranced, at one of the creatures. It was called a crinoid, and some adventurous spirit had swum deep into the depths of the ocean on Detra III with a camera to film its movement. The invertebrate was made entirely of long, feather-like arms that it used to move itself with rhythmic flicking motions, and its feathers undulated in the currents of the green waters around it. For a moment Kirk watched Spock watch the crinoid. Deep beneath the veneer of professionalism, he thought that this might have been what had driven Spock to accept the five-year mission posting: this joyous curiosity, and his boundless love of the unknown. Kirk’s heart twinged to see it, and displayed so openly. 

After another minute, Spock’s shoulders jerked, as if he had given himself an allotment for wonder and his time was now up, and he turned to leave. As he turned, his eyes alighted on Kirk, who was still leaning against the wall. Kirk smiled at him genuinely, fondly; he couldn’t help himself. 

“I know you said no pets, but what about this one?” 

Spock’s eyes were soft as he came to join Kirk again, hands returning to behind his back. “I do not believe we have the capacity to responsibly house a creature such as this,” he demurred, but he looked back over his shoulder once more as they continued on. “But I admit that I found its form fascinating.” 

At the end of the second floor was a food court, and Kirk discovered that he was ravenous. There were different kiosks dedicated to the culinary traditions of the nearby systems, and he and Spock agreed to split off to find their lunches and reconvene at a table near the entrance. Unfamiliar with this region of the galaxy and with no strong preferences arising, he picked one with less of a line and headed towards it. 

“Good afternoon,” said a tall, handsome person in accented Standard. They had a shiny, waxy coating to their purplish skin, enormous brown-black eyes, and a long, intricately beaded ponytail. “What will you have?”

“I’ve no idea,” Kirk said cheerily, and scanned the menu behind them. He didn’t recognize most of the titles, but the images alongside the listings all looked wonderful, and the smell wafting from behind the counter was enticing. “Whatever you recommend for lunch, I suppose.” He glanced down at the counter before him. Among the bottled drinks were scattered trinkets and souvenirs, marked with the logo of the museum. He spied a box with a feather on the front and picked it up. Within the box was a clever little perpetual motion machine, a tiny moving simulacrum of the crinoid that had so ensnared Spock’s attention. “Whatever you recommend and this, then,” Kirk amended, and handed over his credit chip. He tucked the little box into his pocket, took the tray of something that looked and smelled delicious from the cashier, and turned to find Spock. 

Despite what Spock had said earlier, Kirk was still shocked to sit across from Spock and listen to him muse about the evolutionary implications of different organisms that they’d seen. He had expected for Spock to display a residual distaste for him, at the very least. But it seemed that Spock had genuinely accepted his apology; he met Kirk’s eyes without reserve, and, so subtly that at first Kirk didn’t realize he was doing it, rhetorically tugged at Kirk until his own scientific interest emerged. 

“Would you like to see the next two floors, captain?” Spock asked eventually, when their plates were empty. 

“Definitely,” Kirk said, and pushed his chair back to stand up. Before he could reach for his tray, however, Spock had snagged it, stacked his own on top of it, and left the table to return them to the disposal area. As he watched Spock wend through the tables, he was reminded of the day, one week previously, when Spock had insisted on carrying his tray through the mess for him. But there was no audience here, no one to convince of his intentions. 

No one except for Kirk. Kirk’s brain stuttered to a halt as he stared at Spock, methodically unloading both of their trays into the appropriate recycling receptacles. There was no way. Spock could not possibly still carry any interest in him after what he had done yesterday. He had shut down Spock’s confession, told Spock that he didn’t want to be touched by him, had forcibly erected a boundary between them and brooked no discussion. 

But, the hopeful little voice in his head whispered as it roared back to life, Spock had known that Kirk was lying. 

Spock returned from the tray disposal, and Kirk followed him onward to the next level of the museum. Though the flora around him was just as intriguing as on the first two floors, Kirk found his attention more drawn to the man beside him. Spock continued to point out different contradictions, facts he found interesting, pausing to watch the movement of different creatures, but Kirk watched Spock instead. How much had it cost Spock to pick his moment to approach him, to confess that he had enjoyed their charade for the crew? How much had it cost Spock to admit that he felt something for Kirk?

And yet, despite Kirk’s dishonesty and dismissal, he had been forgiven. Spock was here, talking quietly to him about hunting patterns, the same steady presence by his side that he had been for years. Even while Spock respected the boundary that Kirk had set and did not cross the line between them, he orbited around Kirk’s space like a planet around a star. He moved in response to Kirk’s movement, a complicated waltz that Kirk had never before been aware of. They progressed through the rest of the museum, taking the better part of four hours to do so, and they emerged at last from the last purple-black room of the museum into the warm early-evening sunlight of the central causeway. Blinking at the sudden shift, Kirk felt as if they had returned from a journey through a different time before suddenly, shockingly, returning to the present. Had the spell of the museum been broken, and Spock would remember that he should have shunned him? But Spock turned to him, a calm, settled grace in the curve of his spine, and said, “What did you think, captain?” 

“I loved it,” Kirk said, and was surprised by the force of his own response. “It was wonderful. What did you think?” 

“I found it fascinating,” Spock said. He gently steered himself and Kirk away from the exit so as to allow the other patrons to leave. “I find myself still thinking about the crinoids. I have never seen a creature such as they. If the images of them were the only exhibit in the museum, it still would have been worth the visit.” 

Kirk pulled the simulacrum from his pocket. “I got this for you,” he said, offering it to Spock. He took the little box from him and gently pulled the top flap open to reveal the machine inside. For a moment, Spock silently watched the gentle undulation of the feathers within, and Kirk watched him. When Spock finally looked back up at him, the muted delight on his face floored Kirk.

“It is beautiful,” Spock said. “I thank you.” He looked at Kirk like there was no greater gift in the universe that he could have been given than this little museum trinket; like Kirk had bestowed upon him jewels and riches beyond measure. 

“You’re welcome,” Kirk said, and looked back down the causeway, away from the weight of Spock’s warm gaze. “Dinner?” 

They wandered down the tiled pathway as the lights above them slowly shifted colors from a bright day through a cozy twilight, and the ease of the day combined with the bustle of the crowds lulled Kirk into a contented stupor. 

“Do you have a preference for anything, captain?” Spock asked, and Kirk was about to shake his head when he was hit with a wave of nostalgia so powerful that he stopped in his tracks. The smell of something deeply Iowa-like was wafting down the causeway, and it dragged him forward. 

“Whatever that is,” he breathed. He followed his nose down the way, Spock amused beside him, until he pulled up in front of a restaurant emblazoned with a neon sign: “The Best of the Midwest.” Within was a checkered linoleum floor, diner-style booths and tables, with a high-top bar in the back and cooks in the little folded paper hats he could have recognized from a mile away. His relationship with what he would call ‘home food’ was complicated for a thousand painful reasons, but what it came down to was this: if it was available, he would eat it. There were multiple buzzing packs of people waiting in front of the restaurant’s opening, and only one or two open tables inside. 

“This is where you would like to eat?” Spock’s voice was by his ear. Kirk almost nodded, but he hesitated. 

“I don’t want to wait, it’ll be hours. We can go somewhere else.” Kirk turned and almost walked directly into Spock, who had not moved. Kirk found himself with his nose nearly against Spock’s neck, and he could feel the warmth of Spock’s body as Spock looked down at him. 

“One moment, please, captain,” Spock said, and stepped around him to approach the hostess stand. Kirk turned to watch him go, and saw Spock say something to the hostess, leaning over the stand to make himself heard. She was a young human woman, no more than twenty-two, and she popped a piece of bubblegum even as she ran her finger down the paper pad in front of her. To Kirk’s surprise, she nodded and shot Spock a megawatt smile before snagging two menus from the stand and stepping out from behind it. Spock turned to meet his eyes as the hostess waited for them, and Kirk came to meet them as she led them to one of the two empty tables.

“Table for two, Mark will be taking care of you, thank you for visiting the Best of the Midwest,” she chirped, and deposited their menus on the table before heading back to her stand. Spock sat in the chair closest to the entrance and pulled one of the menus towards himself as Kirk dropped into the other chair. He put his hand flat on the menu Spock lifted, forcing it back down to the table. 

“What the hell was that, Spock?” Even as he said it, he couldn’t stop the disbelieving smile from spreading across his face, and Spock met his eyes with a deeply satisfied look. 

“A reservation is an Earth custom where one contacts a restaurant---” 

“Stop that,” Kirk said, and glanced around the table to find something that would be appropriate to throw at him. His search was fruitless. “How did you know?” 

“How did I know what, Jim?” Spock unrolled the napkin that had been set at his place and draped it over his lap as he crossed his legs under the table. They were on a first-name basis again? It was a good thing Kirk was not a betting man, because he would have lost a significant number of credits on how he thought this day would have gone. 

“All of it! This restaurant, the reservation, being on the starbase, the museum…” 

“I am sure you are intimately familiar with the sound of the ship at warp,” Spock said. 

Kirk blinked. “Sure. Don’t change the subject, though. How---” 

“I am as well, and I was awake this morning when I heard the pitch of the ship’s engines change,” Spock said. “It increased, implying that we were moving faster than we had previously. Navigation did not indicate that we were going anywhere other than our originally plotted destination. Lieutenant Commander Scott is a friend and an extraordinary engineer, if somewhat irresponsible. From these facts I surmised what might occur, and took the appropriate steps to prepare.” He raised his menu, but Kirk pressed it down again.

“So you knew we’d have leave time. But this restaurant?” 

“You have said before that when North American food, and specifically the food from your home region, is available on shore leave, you prioritize it. When I saw that this restaurant was an option and that it was popular, I only ensured that it would be available to you if you desired it.” Spock lifted his menu again, and this time Kirk retracted his hand to allow him to study the options. 

Kirk stared across the table at the Vulcan sitting across from him. His eyes traced the elegant points of his ears, the sharp angles of his eyebrows, the surprisingly soft line of his mouth. Even after Kirk had rejected his advances and lost his composure entirely, Spock had taken the time from his research project to ensure that Kirk would have what he wanted. Spock flipped the menu over. 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock did not pretend to misunderstand. He said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.” He glanced up at Kirk, chocolate brown eyes meeting his, and his expression remained self-assured and steady even when Kirk could not respond. 

Mark, a human being either from the Midwest or with a stellar ear for the accent, came to take their order before swishing off again. Kirk ordered comfort food in the form of a pork tenderloin; Spock ordered the only vegetarian option, which was macaroni and cheese. Their conversation ranged from Spock’s mistrust of the dubiously named ‘cheese product’ to their favorite organisms from the museum, when Spock pulled his crinoid from his pocket again to watch its movement fondly for a moment, and then to reminiscing about various missions.

“It might have been scientifically valuable to have retained some of the pods from Omicron Ceti III to study their healing capabilities,” Spock said at one point, and Kirk scoffed. 

“And risk losing the capabilities of the crew somewhere millions of lightyears away from help? Sounds like a nightmare, if you ask me.” 

Over their meals, Kirk admitted that he still had not told his parents that they were married, and Spock offered that, even after the blood transfusion debacle en route to Babel, his relationship with his father remained strained. As Mark cleared their plates away when they were done and subtly deposited a dessert menu between them, Kirk said, “Would you have sought out Vulcan food if you were on your own?” 

Spock threaded his fingers together, steepling them on the table. “I would not have,” he said. 

“Why?” 

“I do not feel the same connection now that I might have before,” he said. “I have access to the food, my instruments, on the ship. But after the kal-if-fee I feel no strong bond to the homeworld.” He met Kirk’s eyes. “There is no one to draw me there.” Spock’s long fingers drew delicate patterns over the table before he snagged the dessert menu and peered at it disinterestedly. 

“You asked earlier about my behavior towards you today, even after yesterday’s events,” Spock said suddenly, and Kirk’s attention, which had been drifting towards the ideas of home and sleep, snapped to him. “I told you a partial truth earlier. It is true that it would be illogical for me to ignore your needs after conflict. However, you were correct in assessing that your words perturbed me in the moment.” 

Kirk closed his eyes in a relieved sort of dread. Now, would the ramifications finally arrive? 

“I found myself to be unsettled by the idea that you would lie to me, especially when you were distressed, and I sought a period of meditation to recenter myself. You, typically, are an honest man. But in meditation I was able to understand exactly what I found so unsettling about our exchange.” There was a light knock on the table near Kirk’s hand where it rested, and he opened his eyes as Spock’s arm retracted back to his side. 

Once he had Kirk’s eyes on him, Spock said evenly, “You lie to me when you believe that it protects my safety or well-being, or that of the crew, even at the expense of your own.” 

Spock’s eyes were molten now, and scorched him. Kirk opened his mouth to argue, but Spock’s carefully guided and uncharacteristic trip down memory lane was suddenly cast in a new light. Though not intentionally, he had allowed Spock to think that he had killed him in order to end his pon farr and depart Vulcan alive. He had lied to Spock to break through the control of the spores on Omicron Ceti III, even though he had put himself at the mercy of Spock’s unbridled strength to do it. And he had lied to Spock on the journey to Babel to give him the peace of mind necessary to relinquish command and save his father, despite the still-gaping stab wound in his chest. Kirk stared at Spock as the restaurant spun around him: Spock knew. Spock knew him. Spock knew that he was hiding something, and still orchestrated a day for them to spend together with his own brand of logical, unflinching kindness, and now sat across from him and offered him safe passage through the consequences of his own actions. 

“What I have not yet deduced, regarding yesterday,” Spock said, as he laid the menu down and slid it across the table to Kirk, “is what, precisely, you believe that you are protecting me from.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Kirk, shoulders square, eyes alight. Checkmate, game to Spock. “Would you like dessert?” 

☆☆☆

“Welcome back, gentleman,” Scotty said as they materialized together in a shower of golden light onto the familiar transporter pad of the Enterprise. “How was your day?”

“Satisfactory,” Spock said.

“Great,” Kirk said.

“Sounds about right,” Scotty said, and, after shutting down the command console, followed them out of the room. “Did ye get to see the gladiator arenas?” 

Kirk laughed as Spock pulled his crinoid out. “We spent the majority of the day in the natural history museum complex,” he said, and showed the movement of the little creature to Scotty. Scotty took one glance at the undulating sea creature and shuddered. 

“Beautiful,” he said unconvincingly. “Best left in the ocean, methinks.” 

“Perhaps,” Spock said. The three of them departed for the officers’ quarters, Scotty informing them of everything they had missed on their day away. They had missed very little, and April and Pike were still scheduled to arrive late the next morning. 

“Thank you again, Scotty,” Kirk said, as they arrived at the door that used to be Spock’s. “It was a great day.” Spock inclined his head to the engineer. 

“T’was my pleasure, gentlemen,” Scotty said. “Neither of ye take enough leave as it is, and after this we’ll be out in the middle o’ nowhere for ages. I’m glad we could give ye more time to celebrate properly.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. This pleasure would be entirely linked to a gift well-given and not any unregulated engine upgrades, would it?” Spock asked. Scotty grinned at him, wolf-like, before unlocking the door and vanishing into his room, which now looked more like half of a warp core than a bedroom. The door slid shut behind him, and Kirk and Spock were left alone in the hallway. Without his input, Kirk’s feet took him to his own door, and Spock walked alongside him in companionable silence. 

At the door, Spock halted. “Did you enjoy yourself, captain?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said immediately. Spock’s eyes did not meet his, exactly; they were fixed on a point beyond his left ear. “God, yes. I…” He paused as he read Spock’s physicality: his shoulders were a tight, straight line, and his arms had vanished entirely behind his back with the force of his grip on one of his wrists. He still hadn’t made eye contact. 

“It was perfect,” he said softly. “You were right. I needed time off the ship, and it was… it was wonderful. Thank you for picking the museum, and making the reservation, and for not letting me say no this morning.” 

At his words, the tension in Spock’s posture released, and when he met Kirk’s eyes he pressed his lips together in the imperceptible motion that was almost a smile. “I am glad to be of assistance,” he said. “I will leave you to your rest.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I must review today’s work and updates from the ongoing experiments,” Spock said, and his gaze dropped away from Kirk’s face. Without the warmth of his eyes on him, Kirk suddenly felt cold. “I did not anticipate missing an entire shift before the admirals’ arrival and do not wish to be unprepared tomorrow.��� 

“Right,” Kirk said. “Very logical, Mr. Spock.” 

“Thank you, captain,” Spock said. “Good night.” With one more lightning-fast glance at Kirk, expression unreadable, he nodded firmly once and turned to leave.

Kirk turned to his door to unlock it. Then he turned instead to watch Spock go. Time seemed to slow as Spock’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and each step that took Spock away from him brought forth another memory. Spock telling him that he didn’t want to leave. Spock gently teasing him in the mess. Spock catching his head in the gymnasium. Spock kissing him against the bookshelf, in front of the crew, running his hand along Kirk’s spine, taking him to the museum, making a reservation in the quiet hours before alpha shift to make sure that Kirk had what he wanted. He thought of Spock taking his tray at lunch, his delight in his little crinoid, his satisfaction at Kirk’s pleasure in the restaurant. A small seed of fear gripped him as he inhaled: what if he was wrong? But in his head, Spock’s sure, steady voice said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.”

Kirk called, “Hey, Spock!” Spock halted and spun. Their eyes met across the distance between them. Sharp-edged hope cut through him. “Do you have time to help me with something?” 

At this distance he didn’t hear Spock’s response, but his mouth formed a shape that looked like “always.” He finally turned to open his door, and by the time it swished open Spock had returned to his side. 

“What do you need, Jim?” 

They stepped inside their quarters, and Kirk waited until the door slid shut behind them. Then he said, “I need your help breaking into the Starfleet personnel directory.” 

Spock inhaled through his nose, eyebrows drawing together. “It is public access to officers, is it not?” It was a sensible question, but behind the cool facade Kirk could see the gears of interest beginning to turn.

“Most of it is. But someone lied to me. And I intend to find out why.” Kirk dropped into his office chair and booted up the console as he explained what he had done the night before. When he had brought Spock up to speed and pulled up Elise’s profile, he swapped spots with Spock, allowing Spock to have the chair and leaning over his shoulder to watch what he did. 

“And who is this person?” 

“She, ah…” Kirk started, and then blanked. Where could he even start? He didn’t want to open with, “Well, she was my Starfleet-assigned therapist at school, because I needed one.” He didn’t want to start with Tarsus. The idea of it made him nauseated. After four seconds of him choking on air, Spock said, “It is fine, Jim. You do not have to tell me.” His fingers flew nimbly over the keyboard. Then, with a slightly smug tone, he said, “I will find out who she is soon enough.” 

Kirk half-smiled at that and rapped his knuckles against the back of the chair. “I have no doubt of that.” 

After three frustrated hours, Spock was coldly radiating his distaste for Elise, the directory, and every Starfleet computer programmer who had ever lived, and Kirk was half-asleep in his uniform from that day on top of his covers, still wearing his boots.

“You ought to prepare for rest, captain,” Spock said, peering intently at the back-end code of the directory. 

“I’m not the one who stayed up all night,” Kirk said, but he dragged himself into the bathroom, changed into pajamas, and prepared for bed. He had just reentered the room, Spock still hunched over the console, when their padds dinged simultaneously. 

“I’ve got it,” Kirk said, as Spock slowly pulled his eyes away from his puzzle to regard his padd with disdain. “I’ll let you know if it’s important.” He reclaimed his padd from where it sat on his bedside table and sat down, back against his headboard and his feet crossed in front of him. He tapped open the message.

SUBJECT: RE: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: schntgaispock@enterprise

CC: jamestkirk@enterprise

From: kathleenlee@headquarters

Commander Spock,  

Greetings from afar! Thank you for this most recent contribution. Your revision is, as usual, meticulously researched and logically argued. I’ve submitted it to the upcoming regulatory board meeting as an agenda item and will keep you apprised of the outcome, though I think we can take a pretty good guess at what that will be. 

I noticed that your CO got dropped off the original message, so I’ve CC’d him here. 

Please let me know if I can be of any other assistance at this time. 

Best, 

Lt. Cmdr. Lee 

P.S. Congrats :) 

Spock frequently submitted regulation revisions; he might have been the only person in all of Starfleet to keep the regulatory board in meetings. Of course he was on smiley-face level with the regulations administrator. Spock’s recommendations were usually about research protocols, but the regulation number snagged Kirk’s attention. 6245 referred to lifesaving missions. He scrolled down to view Spock’s original message. 

SUBJECT: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: kathleenlee@headquarters

From: schntgaispock@enterprise

Lieutenant Commander Lee, 

Greetings. I have attached a regulation revision submission pertaining to food storage on deep space exploratory missions. Please see the attached report for my findings and conclusions.

LLAP, 

STS

The message had been sent at 0759 that morning, and the attachment was two hundred pages long. Was this the research project that Spock had been so absorbed in? He had been working on a regulation improvement the day that he moved into Kirk’s quarters, but hadn’t mentioned it otherwise. Kirk tapped the attachment open. He scrolled past all of the standard forms--- Spock’s name, rank, the regulation he was updating, and a thousand other useless pieces of data that Starfleet collected and never used, to the meat of the report. 

Starfleet is, in many respects, an observatory organization. Though it performs admirably as the diplomatic arm of the Federation when engaging new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of Starfleet man-hours are spent on scientific research in space, far from the turbulence of on-world life.

However, when called to do so, Starfleet ships can and do act as the first responders to crises. There are not many important similarities between the populations that comprise the Federation, but one universal constant is the need for sustenance. Exploratory vessels are frequently the first ones to receive distress signals from far-lying locales, there are infrequent opportunities to restock solid supplies in deep space, and the small scale at which food can be replicated can hinder lifesaving efforts. This report will analyze five previous instances of Starfleet’s reaction to crises before making recommendations for regulatory updates to advance and improve Starfleet’s capacity to respond to acute and life-threatening scenarios. The primary lesson of the case studies presented, and the primary recommendation of the author, is that all California-class ships and newer and all ships commanded one (1) or more AU beyond the current boundaries of Federation space should henceforth increase the volume of solid, unreplicated, immediate-use foodstuffs maintained onboard by 235% from current standards. The mathematical model for this increase is attached to this report as Annex A. 

Kirk pressed one shaking hand to his mouth and continued skimming. Spock had meticulously detailed five lifesaving missions that Starfleet ships had undertaken, outside the normal purview of their work, analyzing common successes and failures before wrapping them into a tidy, logical conclusion of how to save lives. He had listed a planet whose entire sky had been blackened for three years by volcanic eruptions, a generations ship whose soil recycler had broken down, and three agricultural planets that, for one reason or another, had devolved into complete famine: Alexii I, Gradient V, and Tarsus IV. 

He downloaded the report and looked at the metadata. The document had been created two hours after he told Spock why the broken replicators made his heartbeat skyrocket. Kirk turned to stare at Spock, who still bent determinedly over his console, having eschewed the touchpad entirely to type commands directly into the black screen. He looked down at the report in his hands.

“Residual stress,” Kirk had said, when he hedged around genocide by calling it a period of scarcity. He had tried to keep Spock from seeing how it haunted him, and Spock had offered him a hand in comfort and his faith in Kirk’s abilities before moving on, which was far more than Kirk had expected. Kirk had thought that that would be the end of the conversation. But then Spock had forsaken sleep to move the entirety of Starfleet’s behemoth interstellar bureaucracy with the strength of his will alone, so that Kirk might feel more secure. Even after their fight, after Spock had left their quarters, he still spent his entire day on an effort that would make Kirk’s life easier. 

And he had left Kirk off the message. If Kathleen Lee hadn’t looped him back in on her response, Kirk would never have known of the monumental act of service that Spock had done for him. Kirk stared at the back of Spock’s head, the sleek hair that hid his beautiful mind, and it was at that moment that Spock spun, triumphant. 

“Jim, I believe that I---” Spock halted at the expression on Kirk’s face, eyes glancing to his padd and back up. Kirk stared at him, seeing his dear, dear face for the first time again, as something fiery and huge, uncontrollable, unfolded in his chest. Spock had not thought him weak, or unreliable, or untrustworthy. He had accepted Kirk’s fears and needs as fact and shifted the universe around him to accommodate him instead. Kirk had challenged him, lied to him, and pushed him away, and yet Spock had remained steadfastly where he had been for years: by Kirk’s side.

“I have gained access to her service record,” Spock said. “What are you reading?” 

“Your report,” Kirk said hoarsely. “You… did this?” Spock slid the padd from his limp hand and flipped it around to look down on it. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “I did.” 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock’s eyes, warm and open, met his, and he tilted his head as if to say, “I’ve already told you why.” Kirk’s breath caught in his chest as the wall between his head and his heart crumbled entirely. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse. Spock had proven that he was willing to take Kirk at his worst, as much of it as Kirk had been able to show. But what did better even mean, for someone like him?

His eyes slipped to the console behind Spock. If Elise had not been a real medical professional, then an enormous aspect of his so-called recovery had been a sham. If his recovery had been falsified, strategically manipulated, then there might be a reason for his continued struggle beyond his own weakness.

If he was still hurting so badly because he had been refused help, then maybe that meant that he could still get better. Spock deserved better. 

He made his decision; he reached for Spock. 

Kirk shifted to the end of the bed and closed the space between them. He took the padd out of Spock’s grasp and slid his hand into Spock’s, pressing their palms together. For a second Spock sat, unmoving, staring down at Kirk’s hand in his, and Kirk waited for him, serene in his choice, trusting Spock to respond when he would. 

With the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes, Spock took his hand in both of his own and raised them to press Kirk’s palm flat against his chest. His eyes closed as their fingers threaded together. He felt Spock’s steady heartbeat through his shirt, the warmth of his body. 

“I need to tell you something,” Kirk whispered, and Spock’s eyes opened. 

“You can tell me anything, Jim,” Spock said, and Kirk felt the rumble of his voice through his palm. He opened his mouth to say it, to tell him, and his throat constricted. He felt the panic trickle through his bloodstream, and Spock’s expression turned concerned. Kirk looked down at his lap to the padd sitting in his other hand. 

Spock already knew about what had happened on Tarsus, if he had created this report with Starfleet resources. He just needed Kirk to connect the dots. Kirk bit his lip and rapidly paged through it. He pulled up the correct page, with its clinical TARSUS IV heading, and turned it back around to show Spock. Spock glanced between it and him, eyebrows pulling together. Then he blinked, and his hands tightened over Kirk’s. 

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Kirk said, and his voice cracked. His stomach heaved with nerves. Spock’s eyes scanned over his face before dropping back to his report. He took it and turned to put it on the desk even as he kept Kirk’s hand pressed to him. 

“You are one of the survivors,” Spock said, and Kirk nodded, clenching his jaw against his sudden nausea. For a moment Spock considered, his thumb rubbing slowly over the back of Kirk’s hand, and Kirk saw the fine muscles in his jaw twitch as he sorted through whatever he was thinking. But for once, the waiting didn’t fuel his anxiety. Though seeing the brutality of Tarsus in print sent spikes of panic through him, and telling him now made him feel sick, the knowledge of Spock’s report and everything it meant to him was the bulkhead between him and his ghosts. He was safe in his quarters, on the Enterprise, and Spock was with him, holding his hand. 

Spock nodded, like he had made some decision, and he stood, dragging Kirk up with him by their connected hands.

“Jim,” Spock said. “May I touch you?” Kirk met his eyes and nodded. Spock slid one hand along his outstretched arm, running it up his shoulder, until he was cupping the back of Kirk’s neck. The other hand he wrapped around Kirk’s, cradling it against his chest, and he stepped forward until they were sharing breath. Then he released Kirk’s hand, wrapped his other arm around Kirk’s waist, and hugged him tightly to him, pressing him to the length of his body. The thumb of one hand smoothed down the short, shorn hair at the back of his neck, and the other arm held Kirk flush against him. He rested his cheek against the side of Kirk’s head and breathed.

Kirk wrapped both arms around Spock’s waist, and he buried his face in the side of his neck, and he let himself be held. He leaned against Spock’s warm solidity and breathed in time with him, until Spock pulled back to look down at his face. 

“Is this what you would protect me from?” 

“Partially,” Kirk said. Spock waited. “And from what came after.” 

“Your nightmare from yesterday morning,” Spock said, and Kirk blinked, bemused, as he remembered that the dream hadn’t even been about Tarsus. It had been about Elise. 

“Yes. No. Adjacent,” he said, and leaned around Spock to look at the screen of his console. The screen was filled with text that he couldn’t read at this distance, but Spock had said that he had found her information. “What did you find?” 

“Are you intentionally changing the subject?” 

“I’m not, honest,” Kirk said. “It’s related.” Spock’s eyes narrowed. 

“How do you know this woman?” 

“What did you find in her profile?” 

Kirk stared him down, and Spock broke first. He reluctantly released his hand from the back of Kirk’s neck, but kept his other hand on his lower back as he turned back to the console. 

“Her entire file is redacted,” he said. “Everything that she did after her first posting is confidential. I have some theories about what her career may mean, but I will need to conduct more research first. I would state, with 97.4% certainty, that she was an officer with Starfleet Information and Intelligence Operations.” 

Kirk’s whole body went cold in a shiver. “Like a spy?” 

“I do not believe so,” Spock said thoughtfully. “More in line with propaganda, or information access and control.” 

“Huh,” Kirk said. His hands had gone numb. “That might be worse, actually.” Spock wrapped a hand around his wrist, but instead of it feeling like a cage, it became an anchor.

“Please sit down,” Spock said, and steered him back to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt in front of him, hands bracketing him on the bed frame. “You are unwell. I apologize, Jim, for---” 

“No,” Kirk croaked as his throat tightened. “I asked. I need to know.” 

“Who is she to you, Jim?” Every angle of Spock’s body, his entire focus, was attuned to Kirk. When they had first met, Kirk had been unsettled by his inhuman intensity. Now he was comforted by it. Maybe the Spock protocol would apply to every area of his life.

“Starfleet assigned her as my therapist when I got to the Academy,” he said. “I thought she was a psychologist until four days ago.” 

“Four years after you were rescued from Tarsus IV,” Spock said. Kirk nodded. “You were eighteen.” Kirk nodded. Spock bowed his head, staring pensively at Kirk’s knees. Then the material of the bed frame cracked under his hands. He unclenched his hands from the ruined wood and glanced at the splinters reproachfully before flexing them open. 

“My apologies, captain,” Spock said, and one corner of Kirk’s mouth twitched up, despite himself, as he reclaimed one of Spock’s hands. He held it in his lap between both of his. 

“It wasn’t just me,” he said. “I know of another survivor who also had her. He confirmed to me that she used us to keep each other quiet.” 

Spock’s eyebrows pulled together. “The sequence of events on Tarsus IV has been extensively documented. The only unanswered question that I was able to find was---” 

“Kodos,” Kirk said, and his stomach heaved again. When was the last time he had said that name aloud? In his mind, a flash of gray hair, and the wet spatter of blood on dirt. Bile rose in his throat and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk with concern. “Do you have any theories as to why information control would be necessary amongst the survivors?”

The answer came to him immediately. It was what had so upset Dr. Johns during his physical recovery, the first topic that Elise had convinced him to keep inside. He saw the fire, and the flash of the gun, and the body. He nodded even as his chest tightened and his stomach flipped inside-out. 

He tried to speak, and his jaw clenched. He tried to speak, and his tongue swelled in his mouth as his brain filled with the buzzing static of an impending meltdown. Be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead---

He closed his eyes as the nausea swelled inside him and pressed a hand to his face. 

“Jim?” Spock was very close to him, his voice gentle, and Kirk could feel the warmth of him. He leaned forward, seeking him, and Spock pressed his forehead against his. “Be still,” he said, and Kirk nodded against him, tamping down the urge to vomit or pass out.

Kirk opened his eyes. Spock still knelt in front of him, hands braced on the mattress by his hips, face scant inches from his. “We do not have to continue this discussion at this moment. I will call the doctor if you are ill, and we can broach the subject again when you are better.” His apparent concern warmed Kirk, but if they didn’t keep going now, he was afraid that he wouldn’t have the courage to continue tomorrow.

“I want to tell you,” Kirk said, and for the first time in his life, he meant it. “She--- I need to know why she did this to us. So I can start to fix it. But I--- I can’t. I can’t say it.” Even talking about talking about what he had seen threatened to overwhelm him, and it was only Spock’s hands, coming up to his shoulders, that kept him upright.

“Do you wish to show me?” Kirk looked up in surprise. Spock’s gaze was steady. 

“No, Spock, you don’t want to---”

“I would not have offered if I did not mean it.” 

Kirk swallowed, his throat like sandpaper. “This is going to be the ‘worse’ part of ‘for better and for worse.’” 

“No caveats,” said Spock. “Jim, let me help you.” Kirk paused, his head spinning, and then nodded. Spock stood, stepped away to remove his boots and place them meticulously by the door, and then returned to Kirk. 

“Please lay back,” Spock said. “I believe it will be more comfortable for you.” Kirk scooted himself backwards and lay down, and Spock laid down next to him. He rolled over to face him, Spock lying alongside him. 

“Somehow, when I thought about the first time we might share a bed, this wasn’t how I imagined it happening,” Kirk whispered, and he half-smiled despite his fear. 

“But you did imagine it,” Spock said, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Jim, are you prepared?”

“No,” Kirk said, and laughed weakly. “But go ahead anyway.” As Spock lifted one hand to Kirk’s face, he reached between them with the other. Kirk met his hand and laced their fingers together. Spock’s fingers settled along Kirk’s psi-points, and he closed his eyes. 

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.” 

[092040]

The Great Loves - Part 2

Before I met A, I had gone through whirlwind of short-term, unhealthy relationships. While some of them lasted longer than I thought, all of them had one thing in common, they should have ended sooner than later, but my stubbornness pushed against the will of what the world was telling me.

Through the betrayal and abandonment that T left me with, I'd learn later in life why I stuck through these relationships, though they brought me no benefits, even after the lesson I needed to learn had been learned. In hindsight, they were teaching me something more valuable and were helping me shape me into the person I would be today.

The last relationship before 8 left me with bitterness and a sort of self-hatred and disgust with myself. It was a long journey of healing and learning to love the person I was. My trust in people who would hold a part of my heart was fragile and with that fragile trust came a host of toxic behaviors that I was too afraid to consume me in any relationship. They would surface like monsters under my bed and in my closets before anything substantial could come to fruition.

In many cases, these monstrous tendencies were a blessing in disguise. They taught me much about how far I was willing to go and how low I had sometimes stooped, showed me a side of me I wasn't willing to accept. I made many mistakes, spent too much time on people who were not worth my time, but also let go of people who could have been.

--

The early stages of dating A were pleasant, but like any other relationship I had faced, came with its own challenges.

This would be the first time I would be asked about an open relationship. And for the first time in my life after 8 years of loneliness and pondering, I knew my answer. The younger and naive version of me would have been ok with it, to please, to do anything not to be abandoned, but this mature version of me said 'No', it was all-in or nothing with me. I was done being second choice, an afterthought.

I was being tired of being someone's "You're too good, you're too perfect, I can't be with you," kind of excuse. If I was too good, too perfect, then why the hesitation? I didn't need these half-assed excuses. I gave A an ultimatum and I left him with the decision. I was clear with mine.

--

Over the next 3.5 years, A loved me, unlike anyone else. A was the great love that healed my broken soul. While we were not perfect and we had our flaws, our disagreements, and our differences, A smoothed all the sharp edges of me that were a result of my previous traumatic relationships.

Things had gotten so bad 2 years into our relationship that any small thing he did or said would trigger the deepening anger within me. In tears he said, "I don't know what to do, it seems like everything I do, you are upset." And he was right. I reflected like I once did with how I was reacting towards my own family. All the little things he had done that irked me went unvoiced, went unnoticed, and built up, overflowing at the seams.

His genuine consideration and sometimes FOMO made simple tasks, decisions, and outing frustrating. While I knew deep down inside, his intentions were genuine, the feeling of false choice and back and forth drew a hard line with me. I acknowledge this with A. This is who he is and who he would be, with or without me and would I be able to live like this?

--

3.5 years into our relationship, I think we both could feel an unspoken tension. While we loved each other very much, our goals, visions in life, and desires were starting to drift further and further apart. On a Friday evening, two weeks after our anniversary in February, A mentioned something I had asked him each and every year. In my own selfishness and desire to create a more seamless experience between the life I led in NYC and with my family, I asked A to show more commitment, to slowly become a part of the other side of my life. It always became a tense conversation.

Ultimately, that night became the deciding factor of our relationship. I was old enough and had gone through enough to understand when I should walk away. "Who knows, maybe in ten years, I might decide that I don't want this anymore," A told me during our conversation and debate about what I wanted from a committed relationship.

"I don't need anymore uncertainty in my life, there are so many unknowns already," I answered.

I didn't want someone to be with me with unclear intentions. Sure, there was the future to unfold, but without clear intentions, I didn't want to be just another ride as a part of someone's life. So I left that night because I didn't want to be a second option. A would have to decide for himself, what he wanted.

I was clear: I wanted a committed partner in my future.

--

We never got back together—I think we both knew we loved each other enough to let the other one go to truly be happy.

I loved A for healing me. For becoming a safe space in which I could unpack all my trauma. He didn't need to stay for that and he didn't deserve to be a punching bag. In turn, I didn't want to be his punching bag for the time being either.

We both felt our time come to an end. Neither one of us conceded to our true desires and to stray from our path we were headed.

The relationship came to an end, but we carried our love for each other forward through our friendship. I had nothing but thanks for A.

--

Two years later, A and I caught up and he came to the realization that he needed to better understand himself as I mentioned during our relationship. I was happy he was finally unpacking some of the things he wasn't willing to during our time together.

I loved him seeing him in NYC, but no longer intimately, just as a soul I once held and cherished and wished he would find his path.

[dadddybangtan]

Suck Torture | Interlude: Taehyun

Back Table of Contents Next

cw: mentions of d3@th threats

word count: 2.1k

a.n… this chapter kicks off the next act of the story. if you thought the first half was complicated, it only gets more complicated from here. a slue of new tags will be added that i didn’t intend when i first started writing this three months ago. but i couldn’t be happier with where this story is going. please enjoy <3

Taehyun heard the lock on the door creek open at about two a.m. Beomgyu was home from his meeting with Hyunjin. He sprung out of bed to greet him, but he was met with an expressionless, emotionless human. On contact, he started to worry.

"How did it go?" Taehyun asked softly, careful not to provoke any negative reactions.

"Fine. He wants me to present a proposal with him or whatever."

His head hung low in his chest. Something was bothering him, something else. Taehyun knew that.

"Nothing tried to hurt you on the way back, right?"

"No." Said Beomgyu.

But he's lied about that before. There was nothing stopping him from lying about it again.

He silently made his way to Taehyun's room and he followed. He wasn't used to seeing Kai's bed so empty. Even so, Beomgyu didn't take advantage of that. He sat on Taehyun's bed.

"It was a vampire-demon hybrid that killed Kai," He started, "What's worse is that he didn't even remember it. It was instinctual."

"How is that worse?"

"Because I can't be mad at him. I just feel bad. The kid broke down crying and apologizing. For something he doesn't even remember doing."

"I see." Taehyun tried to understand.

"I feel worse for Hyunjin. He's stuck having to fix it all."

Beomgyu looked up at Kai's lone bed. He looked at the plushies that encompassed most of it.

"Why did it have to be him," He cried, "He was innocent. He was so fucking innocent."

That last word was muffled in Taehyun's chest. He cradled the floppy haired man. He questioned how Beomgyu, someone who's only known Kai for a few weeks, could feel so deeply about his passing. That was the thing about Kai, if they knew him, they loved him. His innocence and purity was so rare that people remembered him.

Taehyun also noted how empathetic Beomgyu was. How his anger dissolved after seeing the other side. How he pitied the monsters who killed their friend. His brain was wired in a way that thinks about everything. It seemed exhausting even from the outside looking in.

"Do you wanna sleep with me again tonight?"

Beomgyu shook his head, still buried in Taehyun. He didn't believe him until he said, "I don't wanna wake up and see his empty bed."

"It's empty, Beomgyu. That's how it is now." Taehyun was blunt because he knew sugar coating would only make Beomgyu feel worse.

"How are you so cool about this?" Beomgyu asked as he lifted his head up and wiped his tears.

"Because I have to be. Even though it hurts like hell, I can't let it show."

But Taehyun knew he could let that show if he wanted to. Yeonjun and Soobin weren't going to judge him for showing a little bit of weakness. Beomgyu wouldn't dare to either. He couldn't trust himself to be strong enough to show weakness.

Beomgyu slid into the sheets, moving closest to the wall so Taehyun wouldn't have to crawl over him to get to his workout. Taehyun reached over and pet his head.

"One day you'll get tired of being cool."

"I won't." He told himself more than Beomgyu.

"You will, and I'll be here for you when you do," He said, "I'll hold you and pet you. I'll be right here."

Taehyun huffed under his breath in disbelief. He saw himself as strong and cold. He took life as it came. Beomgyu didn't know him long enough to make an inference like that.

"Taehyun, do you think Kai would forgive someone who didn't mean to kill him?"

He huffed at that too. Until he looked at the little black eyes in the plushies on Kai's bed. Those eyes looked soulless to him but they meant everything to Kai. Then his heart started to ache. And the tears started to fall.

"He would." Taehyun whispered, letting out a shaky breath and falling into Beomgyu's chest.

As Beomgyu said, he was there. He held him safely in his arms as he sobbed. He kept him steady as his cries hiccuped throughout his small body. The tears soaked through his shirt, but he didn't care. He was there for him like he promised.

The next morning, as usual, Taehyun was up early for his workout. He ran down the stairwell of the apartment building as a warmup and down the street to the local gym. He had his earbuds in, blasting his fifteen-hour playlist on shuffle.

Going in to the gym, he went straight to the treadmill. He started off with a walk that gradually grew into a jog. He paced himself well and breathed accordingly.

He felt a presence on the treadmill next to him and glanced over a bit without breaking his focus too much. He faintly heard a few words spoken outside of his music, so he took out the earbud closest to the other.

"Oh sweet, I didn't know you gym here, bro. We could've been gym buddies."

When he looked over again, he saw who it was. Chan was his classmate last semester in music theory. In school, he dressed modestly, but at the gym he showed off a lot more skin. It made Taehyun question why he was grinding at the gym to begin with. He's ripped.

"I guess." He muttered, beginning to put his earbud back in.

"Hey, you like parties?"

"Sure?" He wasn't in the mood to talk.

"I'm throwing a new year's party, you should come, bring a friend."

"What about curfew?"

"Eh, that's only for public places. Can't put a curfew on my house, bro."

Just then, Taehyun noticed the speed on Chan's treadmill. He was pushing twenty miles an hour, about twelve more miles than Taehyun. He was insanely fast while still being able to hold a casual conversation. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. Can a treadmill even run that fast?

"Right. Well," Taehyun panted, "Just text me the address or whatever."

Completely unfocused, he stopped the machine and hopped off. Suddenly, he didn't feel like finishing his workout.

Instead he went for a walk, earbuds in and strolling along the city streets. Until he spotted a familiar silhouette across the street. He was the only one wearing all black, so it could be one person; Hyunjin.

He watched him slip into the library that Beomgyu worked at. He quickly jogged across the mildly empty street and followed him in discreetly, pulling the collar of his jacket over his mouth and keeping his head low. He watched Hyunjin from the corner of his eye.

He watched his careful and curated walk as he strutted the same aisle he and Beomgyu scaled the night before. It seemed like he was trying to find the empty space in which the book they grabbed was. Then Hyunjin's pale hand reached into his jacket and pulled out the small book. He snuck it back into the slot without any bookkeepers noticing.

The only one who noticed was Taehyun. That's probably why Hyunjin looked over his shoulder and made direct, daring eye contact with him. Taehyun shivered. The vampire slowly made his way to the man and Taehyun removed an earbud in case he decided to speak.

"Can we talk?"

He only nodded.

Hyunjin gestured toward the door and Taehyun walked after him.

"I'm sure you're wondering what I want. Or why I'd want to talk to you," Hyunjin clearly read his mind, "Especially after I shut you out last night."

"Yeah..."

"Firstly, I want to apologize. There's a lot going on with my family right now and we're trying to minimize the amount of people who know our situation. I was cold to you in favor of Beomgyu and I'm sorry." His voice was calm and mature. It was obvious that he was centuries older than Taehyun and his friends.

"It's okay, I get it."

"Secondly, I wanted to ask if Beomgyu was okay. I was too wrapped up in all this drama that I forgot to make sure Beomgyu got home safely so late at night."

"He's fine."

"Thirdly, are you okay," He asked sincerely, "Surely things have been hard since the loss of your friend."

Don't you mean the murder that happened to be strictly instinctual?

"So you're aware that it was instinctual as I am aware that it was a murder," He answered in a full mumble, "Excuse me for trying to censor those trigger words in public. I'm not exactly safe to be out right now."

"Look, I accept your apology and thanks for checking on Beomgyu but I don't see why you'd need to ask how I'm doing. We aren't friends and we aren't going to be."

"Beomgyu trusts you and you care a lot about him, right," Taehyun nodded, "Then you should know that a vampire is planning to kill him."

"What?" His heart sank.

"He's obsessive, jealous... He's just trying to make certain that I'll never see him again," He said, "I'll do my best to prevent it, but you see him more than I do."

Taehyun took in a sharp breath. He couldn't believe what was being said to him. First it was Kai, then Beomgyu was being threatened too. There was nothing he could do to save Kai. He was afraid that there was nothing he could do to save Beomgyu either.

"I- I can't fight a vampire. I'm only a man," Taehyun panicked, "Why can't you just kill him first."

Hyunjin sighed, cocking an eyebrow at the seemingly simple solution.

"That would only complicate things."

"So we have no choice but to sit and wait for him to pounce? I'm not doing that."

"Fine. I'll try to spend as much time with him as I can. That way I can keep my eye on him and away from Beomgyu. You do the same, make sure he doesn't go anywhere alone."

Hyunjin opened the door to a breakfast shop they were passing. He silently told Taehyun to come in as well. He glanced over the menu aimlessly.

"What does Beomgyu like?"

"Oh, um, a breakfast sandwich would be good for him. Proteins, carbs."

Hyunjin approached the counter.

"One breakfast sandwich, please," He said before looking over at Taehyun, "And a breakfast burrito, extra meat."

"Is that all?" The cashier asked, leading Hyunjin to nod.

He swiped his card effortlessly, But Taehyun was still in shock. He looked up at Hyunjin's lifelessly pale face, imagined how cold his skin was. And he questioned how someone so cold could have such a warm heart.

He cared about Beomgyu, maybe even a little more than Taehyun. He cared for his family, protecting their privacy. And, surprisingly, he cared for Taehyun.

People cared about Taehyun like his roommates, Soobin, Yeonjun, Kai, and Beomgyu. But with Taehyun's persona being so isolated and withdrawn, it was hard for them to show it. There was a wall that made it even harder for him to feel it.

There was something in the way Hyunjin so easily penetrated through that wall without breaking the person behind it. Sure, it was with the help of his vampiric powers, but Taehyun didn't care. Hyunjin saw him in a way that no one else could.

Before they knew it, their order was ready. Hyunjin retrieved it and handed it off to Taehyun.

"Take this home to him, okay? Make sure he eats well."

"Thank you."

Hyunjin gave him a gentle smile before bidding him goodbye and leaving the shop. Taehyun wanted to say more, but he couldn't. There were no words left.

He was happy to see Beomgyu sleeping in comfortably in his bed. He didn't care that he pitched in a good amount of money for that pull out couch in the living room, Beomgyu looked better there.

"Beomgyu," Taehyun said softly, sitting on the bed, "Wake up."

"Hm?" He hummed as he slowly opened his groggy eyes.

"Got you breakfast."

A kind, full smile graced his face, filling Taehyun's stomach with butterflies.

"You didn't have to do that. There's stuff here."

"I know," Taehyun chuckled, "I got something too, so it's okay. We can eat together."

He sat up in bed to match Taehyun. Once he was stable, Taehyun pulled him in for a hug. He nuzzled his nose in his bed head, taking in the comforting woody scent. He held him so tightly, almost trembling.

He wondered what he would say if he knew Hyunjin bought that breakfast for him. Taehyun was completely unaware of Hyunjin's presence in Beomgyu's life. All he knew was that they're close enough to make another jealous.

However, Taehyun wasn't jealous. He only saw the ways that Beomgyu and Hyunjin were more compatible. They were both empathetic and expressive, a lot more than him.

"Thank you, Tae."

But he should be thanking Hyunjin, not me.

And with that, Taehyun became afraid of two things: losing Beomgyu to an early, painful death and losing Beomgyu to Hyunjin.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Hiya Trin! I’d love the commentary on this bit from your one whumptober fic :D It hurts so much, Time’s rambling is just. hhhhhh. much ow.

As gently as possible he pushes Time back onto the log, even as the older hero tries to wrench himself out of his grip. Twilight can feel the panic building steadily within him like water boiling in a kettle. If he can just get him to settle down before it grows out of control…

“You can’t–” The old man gasps, breathless and trembling. “Twi..Twilight…I have to…No!”

Abruptly, he reels back. Before Twilight can react, a fist collides with his face. The rancher stumbles. His grasp slips. With surprising speed, Time lunges for his sword.

“Ganondorf is coming!”

The fear is blatantly visible on his face now, terror audible in his voice. Twilight freezes, hand stopping halfway through its journey to touch his newly bruised cheek.

He’s not the only one with the arm strength of a moblin, apparently.

“Sweet Ordona…”

Time whirls and the rancher is forced to leap out of the way of his sword’s reach.

“Have to get the sages, have to save Zelda…” He takes a stumbling step forward. A particularly violent shudder races through him and the weapon slips from his grip to land with a dull thump on the earthen ground. “Get to the castle….can’t lose this time–all going to die…what a terrible fate…”

Twilight ducks down and snatches Time’s claymore before he can reach for it again. At that moment, Wild scrambles up to his side.

“Here!” He grabs the sword and presses a potion into Twilight’s hands instead. “Lemme get this out of reach and I’ll come help you hold him down.”

Twilight nods. He clenches his hand around the bottle, forcing an inhale through his nose. Time’s words have cut him straight to the core and left him winded and shaky. Never before has he seen the old man this vulnerable, this scared. It just isn’t right, to see his mentor gaze at him like a child seeking refuge from the monsters that stalk the night.

…a child with the world on his small shoulders.

“Time.” His voice trembles the slightest bit and he clears his throat. “I need you to trust me.”

Time freezes before him, teeth chattering, breath coming on haggard half-gasps. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “Only have three days. The clock resets — e-everything’s over. Have to sta…start again and I can’t… please don’t make me.”

He’s speaking pure nonsense now — at least Twilight desperately hopes that’s what this is — but it’s enough to shatter his heart. What nightmares has the hero endured to inspire a plea like this? What secrets haunt him?

…what regrets?

Ooh I had a lot of fun writing that part lol

So this fic — and this snippet — came out of a mixture of my combined mission to write what I want to read (which in this case was a Time sickfic XD) and to allow Time to be vulnerable. Because while none of the boys are particularly great at being vulnerable I feel like he’s one of the worst (in part because he kinda becomes their unofficial leader/parental figure leaving him no choice but to be strong). And what better way to get a guy to open up about all that juicy trauma than to give him a dangerously high fever? XD And if I could throw in some angst with Twilight (who I’ve realized during a recent reread doesn’t actually know much of Time’s backstory) learning in the worst way some of the stuff his mentor has endured? Even better.

So Twilight is thrown into this situation that no one wants to be in — seeing the terribly human weakness in someone they look up to. And I wanted him to see all of that weakness. I tend to forget how traumatizing OoT was for Time because Majora’s Mask’s creepy vibes made the haunting moments of that journey more prominent for me. But I made a point to make myself remember that here (hence the stuff about Ganondorf, the sages, and Zelda). Plus, at this point I headcanon that Time knows at least a little about the Downfall timeline and his fate in it. So, he references that too (saying that he can’t lose this time).

Basically, Time feels like a kid again. He’s scared, he thinks the sky’s gonna fall at any moment. But so does Twilight. Because here’s two extremes: the hero who soldiered on all day and the broken man who is still trying to save everyone despite being dangerously sick. It’s terrifying tbh. Plus this dude just punched him and he isn’t even sure what to think about that (besides OUCH and RUDE lol).

And Wild’s thrown through a loop too. He’s not as close to Time as Twilight is but they definitely are close. And he’s seeing some of himself in Time rn. He knows what it’s like to have your worst memories come back at the worst times. Which is why he immediately wants to jump in and help Twilight (he also feels bad his brother got punched lol).

Basically a bad time (hehe) for all

And Twilight’s definitely gonna have some questions for Time after this. He may not ask them outright (he doesn’t want to pry). But he always wondered what caused Time to become the Hero’s Shade and now he’s thinking…is all this crazy, nonsense-sounding stuff what basically tied him to this plane of existence? He needs some answers

I feel like I’m rambling so I’m gonna stop now lol but thanks!! <33

[howlingchampion]

Jonathan Rook SFW alphabet (NSFW coming soon lol)

Affection: In public- Not afraid to be handsy (hand holding, staying close by your side) At home- Surprisingly touchy and willing to be affectionate

Best friend: Rook is an outgoing business man, and that plays into how he treats you. As a friend. He’s not scared to embarrass you in public, but he is considerate..doesn’t mean he tells you everything

Cuddles: Since Jonathan’s mothers passing, almost no one has been allowed near enough to even touch him without his security taking them down, so saying ‘touch starved’ is a tad understatement

Domestic: Rook isn’t the worst at cooking or cleaning, but trust me, it isn’t too great. He’s used to others doing it for him in recent times. Settling down is something he doesn’t really think about, but if he found his person, he’d want them to 100% stay in Rook Tower with him

Ending: Most likely breaking up over text (he doesn’t always have time or motivation)

Fiancé: With Rook, he wouldn’t be too upset if his significant other would suggest marriage, however, the wedding would most likely be secret, considering his publicity

Gentle: As someone who isn’t one for trusting, when he finally finds his other half, he’s being as gentle as he can to just keep them around. He can get slightly aggressive when upset however :(

Hugs: Side hugs are preferable, but when alone with you, he sometimes just lays his head in your lap and hugs your torso like a pillow

I Love You: After a few months, he’ll probably come up to you and ask you if you love him. Say yes, and he’ll immediately say it back. Say no, and you’re probably sent away

Jealousy: Outwardly, not as showy. He’s got the public to show off for. Inwardly, ready to turn into Stretch Monster and wreck them

Kisses: Usually just little pecks around your face from him in public, however, he prefers slow kissing when out of prying eyes. He’s handsy when his lips are on yours, and sometimes opens his eyes just to make sure you’re enjoying it

Little Ones: While not usually around young children, he tends to get along with them. Having any of his own, and he’s spoils them rotten

Morning: He’s an early bird, but likes to stick around just to watch you wake up. He finds it cute how messed up you look

Night: Due to him secretly being Stretch Monster, he’s not always around most of the night. When he does come back, he just wants to cuddle and love you

Open: Rook would honestly never willingly tell you about his secret, but once you find out, he’d make sure you keep it. If you kept his secret and maybe even helped him go against the Flex Fighters, he would be overjoyed. If not, he might just have to lock you away. Or kill you :((

Patience: Rook is very patient, but once angered enough, he’s like a fuse. Explosive

Quizzes: Jonathan is a genius. He remembers everything about you and everything you like

Remember: His favorite moment about you would most likely be when he realized you liked him

Security: Rook would be extremely protective of you, especially if you were pregnant. Sending most of his security to make sure you’re safe

Try: Jonathan would go above and beyond for you, no matter the circumstances

Ugly: He doesn’t always tell you everything…like his monster secret or true plans for humanity

Vanity: Due to the public, his looks are one of his main features. With you, he still tries to look his best, but knows you don’t always mind

Whole: Rook loves you through and through, but I wouldn’t say he’d be ‘incomplete’ without you, just…upset. Badly

Xtra: Jonathan likes that you remind him of his mother, that’s one of the main reasons he fell in love

Yuck: Jonathan would hate if you were a fan of the Flex Fighters, and would definitely show it

Zzz: Even though his looks betray it, he really does not get much sleep…