#tw self esteem issues mention

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,354 Words

Summary: Sun and Moon take Earth and Lunar on vacation, which leaves Ruin and Solar to babysit Eclipse.

Warnings: Imprisonment?, Babysitting, Brotherly Bonding, Self-Esteem Issues, Touch-Starved, Cursing, Fluff, Mild Angst, let me know if I should add anything else.

To Babysit A Grown Man

The fact that they’d allowed him to live now was seemingly moot, Eclipse was a glorified maid at this point. They always had him cleaning and running their errands for them. Especially Moon, Moon the most out of everyone with Sun being the second most.

Lunar avoided him, Earth as well due to unsavory memories at the previous Eclipse and the Original. Ruin outright hated him. Solar was the one who was ‘friendliest’. Solar didn’t make him do things, but he also didn’t pay Eclipse much mind. But at least Solar wasn’t using the household ’maid’.

Eclipse had been most surprised when Sun, Moon, Earth, and Lunar left on a family vacation, leaving him under the direction of Ruin and Solar. He wasn’t sure why they’d trusted to leave him under the influence of their cousins alone when they’d kept him under strict lock and key before.

It was a stretch to think they were beginning to trust him, so perhaps it was an exercise to see if Ruin or Solar would truly betray them while they were all screwing off to the Bahamas or wherever they’d gone. Eclipse sure didn’t know where they’d gone, he’d just been told they were on a week-long vacation.

Eclipse sighed as Ruin went to charge and finally the judging eyes left as Solar was now taking shift to watch him like a babysitter. It was infuriating but, not that Ruin was gone, he was relieved. He’d rather be ‘babysat’ by Solar anyway. At least Solar didn’t threaten him constantly.

“So what are you up to, huh?” Solar asked, following Eclipse as he went to the daycare kitchen.

“Hobby. Thankfully Moon didn’t throw it out before he left like he said he would.” Eclipse grazed his hand over the large bowl of dough on the counter he’d made a couple hours ago under Ruin’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Yeah, been meaning to ask about that. What is that giant container thing you have on the counter all the time? Venom or something?” Solar asked.

“Bread starter. Sourdough.” Eclipse answered as he took the cloth off the bowl and put flour on the counter, tipping the dough onto the counter and using a knife to divide it into six. God, he made too much. Eclipse sighed at the amount he’d made and shook his head.

“Why’d you learn how to make bread, Clipse?” Solar asked, simply sitting at the table with his feet on it as he scrolled on his arm computer.

“I wanted to learn something…harmless, I guess. It just interested me when I saw videos of it.” Eclipse told him, mixing matcha powder into one of the six doughs and putting nutella on the inside of the dough as he rolled it up and put it into one of the six baking dishes he had out for the bread.

“Well, I’m glad you found a hobby. What kinds are you making?” Solar asked.

“Well, I made too much. And I don’t think I can stand all one flavor. One of them is matcha nutella. One last said it tastes good but I’m not sure for the rest.” Eclipse tried to figure out what exactly to do with the rest.

“You want help?” Solar asked.

“You know how to make bread?” Eclipse asked.

“Nah, I’m not into baking. But I can suggest shit we have so you don’t overproof it, or whatever it’s called, having to go get more stuff to use.” Solar chuckled at him.

“Hm. Sure.” Eclipse agreed.

“I have instant espresso. You can probably put instant espresso powder in one so you have coffee flavored bread.” Solar suggested.

“That…actually sounds good.” Eclipse muttered as he looked through Solar’s cabinet and got out the instant espresso powder, mixing a bit into one of the doughs and putting it into a baking dish.

“Chocolate powder in one of the others Then we have blueberries you can use for one. Maybe one plain bread. Aaaand maybe rosemary and garlic.” Solar suggested.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” Eclipse grumbled as he did the other four as Solar had suggested and scored them and put them into the oven with a pan with hot water.

“I don’t like baking but that doesn’t mean I don’t like bread.” Solar told him.

“Well, yeah, bread is good.” Eclipse sat with him to watch the oven. “Get your damn feet off the table.” Eclipse playfully shoved Solar’s legs off the table and onto one of the other chairs.

“Ugh. Can’t a guy put his feet up?” Solar sighed.

“Not when you’ve got those damn boots on. I don’t wanna clean the table a third time today alone.” Eclipse rolled his eyes.

“How long?” Solar nodded to the oven.

“Twenty minutes. Take the tops off and 20 more. Sadly, they need to rest for like an hour after before I can cut them.” Eclipse watched the clock.

“Fucker. Why can’t we eat molten lava bread?” Solar whined.

“Because it’ll kill every bit of our internals it touches. And it needs to cool to cut it. Or it won’t cut right or something.” Eclipse told him.

“Despair and disappointment.” Solar chuckled. Eclipse felt relaxed, he liked this little banter. It felt like he wasn’t being babysat, it felt like he was at home with a friend. Family? Were they family? Did Eclipse even get that title?

“You’re overthinking again. What’s in your head?” Solar asked.

“I…just….Are we family? Do I deserve that even? O-Or am I just being delusional or something?” Eclipse asked.

“You’re not delusional, we are family. You’re like my little brother kinda.” Solar smiled.

Eclipse halted and stared at Solar with slight awe. He’d thought Solar would call him a cousin or second cousin thrice removed or whatever meaningless title he could think of. Hell, he thought he’d get told no and called a nuisance.

To be called brother. It felt like someone lighting a fire into his core, it made his processors run on overdrive and his engines turn warm with heightened intensity. Eclipse felt…happy? Wanted? Loved? All he knew was he felt warm and excited.

“Eclipse, your bread.” Solar reminded him, opening the oven and taking the tops off for him.

“Thank you.” Eclipse felt tears well over his cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile, artificial breaths staggered with tears.

“You’re welcome.” Solar told him, not yet noticing that Eclipse was in tears. Solar put the tops of the cooking dishes in the sink to be washed. Solar came and sat back down with him and Solar finally seemed to take notice of Eclipse’s tears.

“You okay?” Solar asked, sliding a hand over but hesitating to hold Eclipse’s hand.

“You really see me as your brother?” Eclipse asked softly.

“Of course I do. I don’t get much time to hang out with you but yeah, you’re my brother.” Solar held his hand and Eclipse melted into more tears because of it. He hadn’t been touched that gently before, ever that he could remember.

“You’re too nice to me.” Eclipse whispered.

“Eclipse, come here.” Solar forced Eclipse to stand and hugged him into his arms. Eclipse melted against him and cling on tightly. The hug was so simple but it made him break down finally, choked sobs leaving him. His engines felt so warm and his processors felt like they were burning.

“It’s okay. I get it, it’s okay.” Solar rubbed his back softly and Eclipse sniffled, his fit of tears slowly petering off. He let go of Solar slowly and wiped his tears off his face, trying to stop crying.

“Thank you.” Eclipse whispered.

“No problem, little brother.” Solar ruffled his rays and made him laugh a little at the feeling of his messed up rays.

“Now about bread, I’ve got questions on if we can bake moondrops into them.” Solar told him.

“If we crack them like eggs maybe. Or melt them down.” Eclipse answered, laughing more at the idea.

“We’re doing that and giving it to Moon. Maybe force him to sleep for once.” Solar told him.

“You’re taking the blame. Not it.” Eclipse claimed.

[glittery-phantom]

Y'know sometimes I feel like I don't really wanna be skin and bones because idk bones make me squeamish even my OWN if I so much as graze my collar bones I cringe inside especially cause that hurts me for some reason

All I really wanna do is be somebody other people find pretty

●Big boobs

●long hair + perm

●thick thighs

●Small waist

●Pretty face

●Big butt

●Hairless body

●Smell good

●Dress cute

I wanna wear beautiful clothes

Feel OKAY existing around other people without intense anxiety

Wanna be somebody other people WISH they could have

Wish I could be somebody other people wanna BE

They'll ask me how I did it and I'll never tell them cause if they knew my secret they'd probably send me to a mental hospital

[non-un-topo]

No one talks about this so here's a small reminder to keep your eyes on your own plate. If a skinny person is refusing food, it does not necessarily mean a) they have a restrictive eating disorder or b) they are calling you fat. Mind your business.

[schrijverr]

Shapest Tool in the Shed

A look into Eliot and how he views himself, his past and his intelligence.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: suicide ideation, self esteem issues, guilt, mentions of violence

~~~~~~~~~

Eliot never graduated high school. He has always looked old for his age and army recruiters with quotas to meet are more than glad to pretend they believe the kid in front of them claiming they’re eighteen.

So, Eliot disappears into the thrum of the army when he is sixteen – sixteen and a half, as Eliot will point out often to his mother back when he still calls home. Though, those calls end quickly, he has nothing to go back to anyway.

Quickly – quicker than someone his age has any right to do – he starts climbing ranks as the missions he gets send on get more and more dangerous. Eliot, however, doesn’t care. He’s proud of himself, of his skills. He might not have been the smartest in school, but he has found something he is good at and he relishes in it.

Joining the army at such a young age means that it is made difficult to develop a conscious. The violence is encouraged, ruthlessness rewarded and death is seen as natural. So, Eliot never really does.

He just moves into ops so special that he’s not even sure the president knows about them, doing things no human should be capable of doing without feeling remorse. There are truly two types of ways to go from there: wetwork or suicide.

Eliot rolls from specialized missions into wetwork with the ease of a seasoned professional at age 23. Seven years he served his country and now he serves his own bank account.

In his time in the army, he was often the youngest on the team and people always treated him like the baby, until they were out there in the field. Eliot had the experience to back himself up and while he might not have known what the hell Einstein or Newton are on about, he picked up enough skills to survive and those are way more valuable.

Those survival skills also include how to remain under the radar. How to function without being seen by the government when they have to be able to deny your existence. It’s knowing how to remain invisible, how to hide money, how to find water and food in the wilderness, what danger to avoid and how to blend in.

Eliot does not view himself as intelligent, but he is smart and he knows what he needs to get the job done. He picks up the skills he needs to survive. It’s either that or get killed, nothing special about it.

It takes him two years to build up a solid reputation in his line of work. Two years of staying out of sight of those that want him in prison and in sight of those that want to pay for his services. Two years before he ends up on Moreau’s radar.

Damien Moreau.

Somehow, it feels unavoidable that he ends up in front of the man. Anyone, who is someone in their business, has heard of Damien Moreau. Every hitter worth something has a job for this man on their resume. It’s been a build up. Something that had been coming for a long time.

So, Eliot finds himself in front of Damien Moreau. He’s still young, no longer naive, but with more confidence in himself than is probably good for him. It’s only much later that he’ll realize that taking his first job for Moreau is the stupidest thing he has ever done in his life.

However, Eliot does not realize that just yet, so he accepts the job from Moreau with a grin on his face, the amount of zero’s behind the number flashing in front of his eyes.

Eliot works together with Moreau for three years. In those three years he gets closer and closer to the man as the jobs he does get more and more brutal. He adapts to the work, growing to feel secure as he succeeds. Soon Eliot Spencer is the best in the business. No one to fear.

Being on top of the game, however, comes with an unforeseen setback. Eliot has never really been the best at something. He was good at a lot of things, physical things. But suddenly, he’ll look at the younger recruits and cringe at their mistakes, mentally mapping out how their behavior is going to get them killed one day.

For Moreau, these are the grunts that will do the less intricate work. He does not care if they live or die. Those who will serve him well, will live, those that will not, won’t.

Eliot then also realizes that he is their leader. He is the one in charge to organize their stings and these kids are the ones, who are supposed to have his back.

If there is one thing the army taught him, it’s that the people you’re attacking with can make or break a mission. Eliot might be skilled, very skilled, but there are certain things he can’t do alone and if these are the ones to have his back, then he’ll be screwed.

He’s going to have to take these kids under his wing and teach them at least basic skills, if they all want to make it to tomorrow.

Taking those kids under his wing backfires in the oddest way.

He starts to feel responsible for them, starts to care about their well being. Starts to care if they die. He has built these kids from the ground up, taught them what they needed to survive and when they don’t, it falls on him to carry that blame.

So, his road to redemption starts selfishly. It’s heartbreakingly in character for him and he’ll hate himself for the rest of time for it. But it is the step he needs.

The first time, one of his men dies on a mission and he feels guilt about not being able to return his body to his family, Eliot knows he is screwed. He hasn’t made the effort to bring a comrade’s body back home since he was 21 years old. He hasn’t cared about anyone dying since he was 22. Now at 28, he’s suddenly thrown back into caring; the emotion foreign to him.

Suddenly, Eliot starts to feel the need to get out. To get away from Damien Moreau and his entire operation. It’s not even that the man asks him to do worse, he has already done his worst and at the time he didn’t care a bit, didn’t flinch at the innocent blood on his hands. It is only in hindsight that he starts to feel sick at his actions.

Sparing the General had been self serving. Eliot might have regained guilt, but he still is a selfish man at heart and the General is his ticket away from Moreau.

So, he gets out.

He flees.

And then he hides. He hides and tries to deal with the fallout of getting slammed out of that disassociative uncaring state he has lived in for many years now and into a life of shame and guilt and fear. A life of revulsion at the person he has become.

Eliot has to find peace in what he has done, knowing he can never undo all the hurt he caused and never repent for all the lives he took. That he can’t go back to that kid from Oklahoma, who thought the army would save him from the horrors of high school.

He also has to come to terms that he never thought he would feel like this. That he had convinced himself he was above what he had seen break so many others in his line of work. Much like leaving the army, those in wetwork had two endings: remain uncaring till death or loose your mind and take your own life.

Right now, he is leaning hard against that second option, the first forcefully taken from him, all by that stupid kid. That kid, who had been so proud the first time he won a fight, who always managed to make a joke despite the danger they went into. Who looked with unseeing eyes and a bullet hole in his head.

But he also knows, that taking his own life, would be a coward’s way out. And Eliot prides himself on not being a coward. He is going to live through this, that he vows. He’s going to make it through and not let Moreau win, not let him take the rest of his life.

However, this is the moment where he realizes that taking that first job for Moreau, has been the stupidest thing that he has ever done.

Not just because of the destructive path the man lead him on, a path Eliot had already been walking before him. But also because Eliot has intertwined all of his being into Moreau’s business and now, he has not a cent to his name and will have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Maybe if he had gotten that diploma, he wouldn’t be here now.

He has no skills next to death and if he wants to see his redemption through, he will need money, a job. Saying yes to the contract to kill again, weighs heavy on him, but he doesn’t see another way to be able to move on.

The compromise he makes himself, is no guns. If he is doing this, he is giving his opponents a fair chance and himself room to get defeated, to take the punishment.

Eliot will never be sure what Toby sees in him that night, when he is looming in his kitchen, knife in hand. Lurking and waiting for the lone cook to return for prep tomorrow. Doesn’t know why Toby would quirk a brow at him and merely say: “Your knife form is all off.”

But Toby does and Eliot is shocked to the core. His skill in weaponry is one he is proud of, the only one he has developed over the years and to hear it be critiqued piques his interests. That curiosity leads him to ask why Toby would say that and Toby merely informs him that he’ll be cutting no food if he holds the knife like that, before showing him how cooks use their knives.

It is the second time that Eliot does not complete his mission, that he does not leave his target behind dead and bleeding. Toby lives and this time, it is not out of a selfish reason. It is hardly anything, but it feels like a big step for Eliot anyway.

He stays and talks with Toby for the rest of the night, learns the other has been to prison and the hit on his head is from a former gang buddy of his. Learns that Toby now teaches other ex-cons how to cook, so they can make something off themselves. Learns that Toby has an empty spot for him if he wants to take it.

Eliot knows that he is no ex-con. What he is, is way worse and integrating back into society will always be out of reach for him. But he is closer to them than most other people. Ex-cons often don’t finish high school, get caught up in things bigger than them until they don’t know how else to live, they know violence and the fear of getting caught.

So, Eliot stays and Eliot learns.

Cooking, as it turns out, is something Eliot is good at. It’s something he enjoys and something he can use to push out all the emotions that threaten to overtake him. He can put the guilt of what he has done into pasta, wrap up the shame in the dumpling dough, mix the fear into the sauce he’s stirring and display the revulsion at himself on the steaming plates.

His 29th year on this planet is the first in twelve years wherein Eliot Spencer does not take a single life.

He has learned a non-violent skill and feels human again. Hell, he just feels again. He knows that he has more skills than the killing he gave himself credit for. He can fix cars, has picked up multiple languages and can plan like the best of them. However, Eliot will never feel smart again, fears giving himself that label, because it makes him blind.

Eliot is just a guy with plenty of skills. These skills are limited to the physical for the most part, not things that he can put on a resume, but they’re enough to market himself. Like he had already suspected, Eliot is not cut out for the civilian life. He has tried it, but he will always feel like he is putting those around him in danger.

He only stays with Toby those first two months, skipping town after the man who put a price on his head died in a shoot out with the cops. Then he travels around the world, picking up more ways to cook food and hiding from those that still have it out for him. His name carries enough weight that many don’t try, but he is intimately aware of the ax hanging above his head and the lack of funds that can carry him to safety.

So, he decides to go in a different direction. Retrieval is close enough to his old job that his skill set and reputation come in handy and pays well enough for him to rebuilt the safety net he used to have.

When changing career paths Eliot also decides that he will no longer kill and no longer use a gun. The two rules have kind of already existed in his own mind, but he makes them explicit to himself and people looking to hire him. He is turning over a new leaf.

Of course, Eliot knows that he cannot undo what he has done. He cannot make up for it and he cannot pay the universe back what he has taken from it. Eliot Spencer is a terrible man and he is aware of it. He is not looking to make up for what he has done, he just doesn’t want to make the bloodstain on his person bigger. He allows himself to be stupid enough to believe that that will be enough for him.

Retrieval can be kind of fun. It feels less intense than wetwork, while giving the same adrenaline kick and good enough pay. People will never pay the same for a statue than a man’s life, however, the amounts would be enough to send a normal person spinning.

In his new line of work, he also encounters one Nate Ford. By the time he gets into working with artifacts at 29, Nate already is an established name to watch out for and by the time Eliot turns 31, the man has chased after him on a few occasions.

And Eliot must admit Nate is good at what he does. However, Nate should also be lucky that Eliot isn’t doing his old job anymore, because he is terrible at securing a place and often times it would have been easier to eliminate him as a threat than try to work around him, but Eliot manages.

Well, he manages most of the time. Nate never catches him, but he does outsmart Eliot and gets the stuff Eliot stole back. It’s infuriating, but Eliot knows he is not the most intelligent out of the two of them. He’s not the most intelligent out of most people in the world. He didn’t even finish high school.

Then Nate Ford disappears from the scene, falls off the face of the earth for a few months. Then falls into a hole of alcohol. With a man like him, people talk and Eliot heart aches for the loss Nate endured. Eliot knows what inhumane looks like – he still calls back on that part of his life to dole out threats he won’t live up to – and what IYS did to Nate is inhumane.

However, Eliot can’t ruminate long in what happened to Nate, nor does he care very deeply. He isn’t the man’s friend, hardly knew him.

Plus, while retrieval isn’t the same as wetwork, it is still very dangerous and with Eliot’s past, he continuously has to be on high alert or it will all come crashing down on him again. And selfishly, Eliot wants to live. He is starting to like who he is becoming and starting to be at peace with who he used to be.

So, he doesn’t really think much of what happened to Nate Ford until two years later, when the man is in charge of a job.

Eliot can be honest with himself and admit it is a surprise to see Nate playing for their team. He has always been as honest as they come and Eliot knows that what they’re doing now is far from honest work, but with the turn his life had taken, Eliot can’t blame him for taking the payday and he hears how the man justifies it to himself.

Eliot can also be honest with himself and admit that Nate is good at what he does. He is obviously very clever and a good strategist. When it all goes south, the way he plays Dubenich right back can only be described as masterful.

And another thing Eliot can be honest to himself about, is that taking down Dubenich felt good. Really good.

It felt good in a different way than a good, clean kill used to feel, different than what winning an evenly matched fight feels like, different than what a good retrieval feels like. It felt like he is actually making a difference in the world. Taking down a scumbag like Dubenich prevents people getting hurt in his path, instead of Eliot hurting people. He’s protecting them.

The payout they get from the job also doesn’t hurt. The amount makes Eliot’s head spin and his head is hard to spin after all the payments he has been offered for his services throughout his lifetime.

That check, which Hardison hands to him, is his ticket to safety. There is still the chance people will come after him of course, that will never go away. However, he’ll have the funds to disappear if they do. And what this money really does, it ensure that he can say no to whatever job he wants. It is retirement money. Eliot will never have to fear again that he’ll have to resort to wetwork to keep himself alive.

With that safety, he craves to feel more of that good feeling. He has always resigned himself that he’ll never be able to make up for what he has done and, while he still believes he won’t, the work makes him feel like he can at least turn the ocean of blood into a pool.

And it seems Eliot isn’t the only one who felt good while on the job, because all of them return to Nate, ask him to lead and want them to be a team.

Eliot Spencer is pretty sure that coming back for the second job, is the only smart thing he has ever done in his life.

Working with the team is the best thing that happened to him. All of them are highly skilled in their areas and Eliot learns more than he is willing to admit from just watching them. From being allowed on their team.

If he allows himself to be honest, he can admit that he isn’t sure why they’d want him there. He has never been a good person and they’re aware of it, at least on some abstract level, so why they would even want to be near him is beyond him.

However, he can recognize special, so if he can take the hits so they don’t have to, then he’s more than happy to protect them. He has always been better at taking this hits then thinking.

He is more than happy to protect the team, to feel like he’s keeping this bit of goodness alive. To feel like he’s doing good by keeping them safe, instead of keeping safe the riches of someone who got them through carnage. Just the fact that he is protecting instead of hurting is more than enough, he can take the punishment, repay the hurt he doled by getting hurt for them.

And he is grateful that the team lets him, that they recognize him to make the calls he has to make and that they trust his judgment in the situations he knows best.

It’s not that he’s smarter than them, he tells himself. He knows he isn’t. Grunts like him just repeat the same steps over and over again, see what works for others and what doesn’t. It’s one big dance they all do.

But that doesn’t mean everyone knows the responses, Eliot does. Eliot knows risks, one of the only things he has had to get good at. One of the only skills he honed.

So, he knows it’ll be safer for him to take the beating from Tank, rather than risk the team in one of Nate’s convoluted last minute plans after they’ve already been made. And he knows how to respond to the kidnappers when Nate and Maggie are taken.

What throws him for a loop about it all, however, is that the other seem to respect him, seem to think he is knowledgeable.

Sure, Hardison continuously makes fun of his punchy hands and how he doesn’t understand tech and Parker gets an odd amount of joy of poking at the bruises he got by trying not to kill anyone as he fights, while Sophie calls the fighting barbaric and Nate uses him as human shield more often than not.

However, when Nate puts him in as a grifter, no one questions his choices and they all assume he can do it. When a new language pops up they turn to him to see if he speaks it and when it all turns south, Nate refers to him to get them out and everyone follows what he says.

A part of Eliot can’t help but think of those kids he was in charge of under Moreau. The ones that didn’t make it on the dark days. How much it hurt to loose them. How much worse it will be if anything ever happens to the people under his care now. How easily they trust him with their lives when he isn’t the brightest out there and one mistake can end up with them dead.

Eliot feels like he doesn’t deserve their trust, but revels in it anyway. Feeling human is something he hasn’t done until he was 28 and feeling positive about being alive is a novel experience that has only come once he met the team.

Slowly, he starts to feel like maybe he doesn’t have to get their trust, their faith in him. He just has to accept it and play his part in keeping them alive.

Naturally that means it come crashing down. He already doesn’t deserve the trust they put in him and now he’s lying them and putting them all in danger by allowing them to go after Moreau without speaking up. Without warning them of the dangers of that man. Without telling them all he knows about how Moreau runs his operation.

The guilt is eating at him and he makes another stupid decision. His whole life is already made up of stupid decisions, what’s one more? He’s only ever done one smart thing and that is stick with the team, he’s not putting them in danger when it is his past haunting them.

He decides to go after Moreau himself.

Of course he still has the team’s back while they go after his former boss, he is just also going behind it, so they won’t ever get to their final destination.

Eliot reasons that if he can kill Moreau, before they get close, then no one but him will ever have to know about his past. About how stupid he has been. How many people he’s hurt. No one but him and Moreau, who’ll have a bullet in his head.

Moreau loved having him as a secret weapon, few people know he worked for him and his leaving Moreau’s side has been kept under wraps to avoid Moreau seeming weak. As far as the dirty underbelly is concerned, Eliot is still out there, doing Moreau’s bidding.

It’s not a reputation Eliot is a fan of, but it helps. He knows how the silent shadow of Moreau has kept some people off his back these past five years. Let him be peaceful. Allowed him not to have to kill again.

He will have to kill again.

Yeah, he knows that is a pessimistic way to look at it, but there is no other way to defeat Moreau and he knows it. He has spend years in the man’s operation, he knows how hard it will be to come close to toppling it over. How smart Moreau is. Should he live, he will find a way to break out and rise to power again. It’ll only be a matter of time.

So, Eliot has resigned to breaking his no-kill streak to take down Moreau. Anything to protect those who have taken him in, who somehow see good in him.

Finding Moreau isn’t hard – Eliot has kept tabs on him ever since he left – it is finding an opening to take him out that is difficult. If he had Hardison at his back to track Moreau’s digital moves or Parker to look for unseen entrances or Sophie with her way of getting close unnoticed or Nate’s planning, he might be more successful, but he can’t involve the team in this. He’ll have to do it in his own stupid way.

Not that he isn’t cautious, of course. Eliot’s one skill next to violence is risk assessment, as stated before. He knows how to not rush in unprepared. How to not get killed. It’s the whole thing that got him in this mess in the first place.

Just like he knows it’s easier if you have good people at your back, but how those people will be at risk of dying if either of you don’t know how to assess the risks. If either of you do something you shouldn’t have. He can’t risk the people at his back again, when he has the most experience in what he is doing. When him dying matters less than them dying.

Eliot works alone, he knew that back then too and if he involves other people in that sort of job, they get dead.

Naturally, this plan of his also doesn’t work out for him. The pressure on the team gets bigger and before he can take a shot on his own, Nate is already hounding Moreau and will not be swayed differently. Eliot understands Nate not listening to him about it, he doesn’t have the mastermind’s brain and he never tipped his hand as to why he might know how dangerous this is.

A part of him knows that if he speaks up, they’ll think twice about it, but then they also might just kick him to the curb. He would get that. But then they would go after Moreau without him there to keep them safe and why he might be dumb, he isn’t stupid enough to let that happen.

So, Eliot stays quiet and Eliot plays along.

However, he makes sure to get assigned to get the auction details from Moreau and volunteers Hardison to with him. He is the smartest person Eliot knows and he needs some smarts at his back before he does something stupid again. Plus, Hardison trusts him the most. He hates himself for it, but Hardison is the one that won’t question him if he has to do something and who’ll play along if needed. Eliot wants him there.

At the elevators Eliot realizes that if he doesn’t take charge now, they’re never getting in and if they do, they’ll be blown in seconds when he is recognized. So he does something stupid and gives the guards his real name and hopes Hardison’s smarts will balance it out.

Standing next to that pool, Eliot realizes that thinking he would be able to face Moreau again is one of the dumbest things he has ever done.

Fear grips him as he is face to face with the man, who made sure Eliot would never find peace ever again. It takes all his energy not to let it show. To not let slip how terrifying is of Moreau in front of him and for Hardison in the pool behind him.

Eliot will say yes to anything if it means Hardison will be able to come up for air again. If the other dies due to Eliot’s own stupid decisions, he’ll never be able to live with himself.

So when all Moreau wants is to have some General dead, then Eliot will do that without any hesitation. He already knew going after Moreau meant ending his no-killing streak.

In the end, he doesn’t kill the General. It’s almost ironic that the two times he thwarted Moreau it involved not killing a General.

More surprising is the fact that the team doesn’t immediately send him away. Not even Nate, who has witnessed the carnage that can be Eliot Spencer. The person he used to be without a soul, without remorse or a conscious. That heartless killer.

They’re a little mad at him of course, but they seem to understand why he didn’t want to tell him, how much Moreau scares him.

And when they keep him away from Moreau during their second con they run on the man, it doesn’t feel like distrust. Instead it feels like they’re keeping him away from his personal devil, so he won’t have to go through that again. It feels like he’s being protected and no matter how much his mind screams at him that it should be the other away around, his heart can’t help but feel safe.

After they take down Moreau, Eliot throws himself into keeping these people safe even more than he did before. Putting his body on the line is the only way he knows how to make up to them for the man he used to be.

He scales a mountain, getting Parker back safely. He takes a carnival ride to the face, because Nate told him to do his worst. He takes on a cartel to get Hardison back. Subjects himself to torture because Nate asks, goes back to his roots and tortures the interrogator right back when Hardison is taken again. He even contemplates killing again, so Nate won’t ever have to come close to being who Eliot used to be.

He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t, but it’s close.

When he holds the gun to Dubenich’s face his hand is shaking. Killing in that warehouse took more out of him than he thought. Not killing has soothed his soul like nothing else has ever since the kids under his command died.

Eliot knows that he will give up that peace of mind if Nate asked it of him. If the man wanted someone dead, Eliot would pull the trigger.

But Nate hasn’t asked for this death.

Sure, he wants the man dead. Hell, he wants to kill him himself. A thing Eliot can’t let him do, because he knows what it will do to Nate and he doesn’t deserve that. And if Eliot does it now, he will save Nate that fate.

He should do it.

He should go back to that far away state where he didn’t really exist in this world and neither did his actions. He should pull the trigger and kill Dubenich. Protect Nate from becoming anything that is close to what Eliot is.

However, his hand is shaking and selfishly he disarms the gun instead of shooting it as he prays that Nate will be smart enough not to do what Eliot did.

As Eliot prayed, Nate does not kill someone. The two end up dead, but Nate is intelligent and he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty for the world to do as he wants. Doesn’t have to use brute force to bend it to his will. Doesn’t have to be stained like Eliot is. A part of him hates Nate a little for how easy it comes to him.

The team moves to Portland and Eliot follows without question. He would follow them anywhere, no questions asked.

The others probably know that, so Eliot is a little surprised at the Brewpub and state of the art kitchen Hardison has waiting for him. As if Eliot needs an insentive to stay, even as Nate and Sophie start to drift off and it becomes clearer and clearer that five are going to be three soon enough.

Eliot isn’t stupid enough not to see how Nate tests their abilities more and more. How they fill the gaps Nate and Sophie will leave. Can’t help but wonder why Nate think Eliot will ever be enough without them. Parker and Hardison are smart, but Eliot’s stupid might weigh them down. Wonders if Nate is assessing if he can handle it or if he’ll be a liability.

Fuck, Eliot doesn’t want to become a liability.

Nate and Sophie deserve a good retirement, so Eliot tries his hardest to prove that he’s good enough to be an asset. He takes all the hits that come his way, works on characters with Sophie and tries to think what Nate will do when a mark just won’t bend.

The most obvious move Nate makes is sending the three of them to DC for a small con, even Eliot can’t miss that one.

The con they’re there to run goes off without a hitch, but before they can skip town and avoid consequences for their crimes Eliot gets a Call. The capital is completely deserved there, because it’s the type of call he used to get before. Before the team, before his conscious, before the lives of others became valuable to him.

Eliot can’t ignore what is about to happen. Can’t ignore that someone is going to die today unless he does something about it. He is a good guy now. He protects others. It might be stupid, but he tells the others as much and they, maybe equally stupidly, trust him enough to come with to stop it.

A part of Eliot blames himself for not walking away when he had the chance, because what they uncover in the end is way bigger than any of them can handle. Eliot knows that, the second he sees who is on the hit list. And it becomes even more clear when Vance fills them in on what needs to be done.

Vance is a military man, who Eliot worked with between 21 and 23. Vance might have been older than him, but at the time Eliot had more experience than the other. Eliot went into wetwork, while Vance was smart enough to accept a suit position before his hands were so stained, he no longer felt the need to serve.

Eliot knows what Vance has done. Knows how smart the man is and how he uses it to get people together and dance to his tune. Knows that people die under Vance’s command, just like they’d done under Eliot’s.

Hardison and Parker cannot, under any circumstance, die. Eliot won’t let it happen.

However, Eliot also isn’t as bright as either of them and maybe he has grown soft with having people to fall back on. People who are so intelligent and who have the skill to get Eliot out of situations he can’t get himself out of. So, Eliot lets them stay.

With every new thing they uncover about what is happening in DC, Eliot regrets bringing the two with him, but sending them away is impossible. This needs to be stopped or they’ll be at risk anyway and Eliot knows this is beyond his own capabilities to stop. He punches problems, not solve those that are unpunchable.

But when Hardison panics, a small part of Eliot wants to validate that fear and get him to run and not look back. Get him to leave Eliot here while he can get out of harm’s way.

But at that point they know there is no getting out of harm’s way. They either stop it or are all in danger, no gray area to operate in.

So, Eliot is more open about his feelings than he has ever been before and tells Hardison how smart he is, how amazing his brain is and that he just needs Hardison to point him in the right direction so he can solve this problem in the way he knows well: with a good punch.

It is enough to calm Hardison. They both know this is how their team works. Hardison the brain, Eliot the punch and Parker with solutions to the problems they didn’t foresee.

He fears for her life, but god is he glad she is there with them. That she is smart enough to board the train, to bring that diamond to cut the glass, that she knows to keep Hardison safe, that she remembers how fire kills it.

Eliot doesn’t mind getting shot twice to keep them safe. He can take the punishment and he can protect the people who do the good, who are righting the world. He can aid in their struggle for justice, even if it will never cleanse him of his own sins.

The three of them work well together and he has no issue saying no to Vance when he asks. Nate will be leaving and these two will need someone to point in the right direction so he can punch the problems that are punchable.

It’s only when they get to their hotel that Eliot’s worldview comes crashing down yet again, much like it had back when he was 28. Now at 38, ten years later, it happens again and in a very different way.

After throwing away his crutch – which isn’t the smartest thing he has ever done, but not the dumbest either – Hardison and Parker have supported him all the way back to their room until he can collapse on one of the beds.

He is exhausted and glad to sit down. The other two are clearly still too wired from their day to even think of taking it easy, both still buzzing with excess energy, which they try to pour in fussing over Eliot.

On an abstract level Eliot appreciates their concern, but it’s quite unnecessary. He tells him as much and they ignore him after giving him a look.

Luckily, they ease up a little bit anyway and when they deem him cared for enough, they go back to poking and ribbing him. Parker is poking his shoulder, while Hardison sends him a smug look and says: “So, I’m the smartest man you know, E? I’m flattered.”

Eliot bats Parker’s hand away and plasters on his best grumpy expression. He can’t let Hardison know how high he has him in his mind, the other will become insufferable. No need to show any genuine emotions, he thinks as he grouches: “It’s all comparatively, Hardison. I never even graduated high school, not that hard to be smarter than me.”

Instead of gloating further, like Eliot expected, Hardison frowns, smug face gone, and asks: “What do you mean by that?”

Later Eliot will blame the blood loss, but in the moment, the question just catches him off guard and without meaning to, he replies: “We both know I ain’t smart, just ribbing you back a little.”

Hardison’s frown deepens and he says: “Eliot, you’re very smart, what are you on about, man?”

Next to him, Parker nods and repeats: “Very smart.”

Eliot meanwhile can only look at the two with, what must be, shock on his face. There was a time Eliot considered himself to be smart, but with hindsight he realizes he has made too many stupid decisions to ever be it. He has made peace with it. To hear from two of the smartest people he knows that they think he is smart is tilting his world.

Much to his horror, he can feel a flush overtaking his cheeks and he looks away as he tells them: “No need to lie to me. I’m a little hurt, not in distress. I can handle the truth, you know. I punch things, you guys just point me to who. I don’t mind. We all have our things.”

“Are you playing with me? Is this a joke?” Hardison asks, practically demands. “Eliot, you speak multiple language and are skilled in so many martial arts, not to mention all your culinary knowledge and frankly terrifying Rolodex of distinct features, sound etcetera. And your grifting manipulation skills.”

“Those all require smarts,” Parker adds. “And you are very tactical, good at coming up with exit strategies and plans of attack. That’s not easy either.”

Eliot blushes deeper under the praise, but waves it away in the end as he shrugs: “Those are just skills, both of you have basic criminal skills. I’m not a mastermind like you’re shaping up to be Parker or a literal genius. I’m just a guy who joined the army before getting out of high school.”

“You keep bringing up high school like that is a measurement of any form of intelligence instead of just if you can remember stuff,” Hardison says. “Not to mention that Parker never even went to high school and-”

“She’s street smart,” Eliot protests, because no one will insult Parker’s intelligence when he’s around, not even Hardison.

“I know,” Hardison rolls his eyes as Parker points out: “So are you.”

Before he can protest more, Hardison says something that shuts him up. “And – as I was saying – I also never graduated high school.”

“What?” Eliot can’t help but exclaim, never seeing that coming.

“Yeah, man,” Hardison shrugs like it’s nothing. “Me and school didn’t really jam and Nana could use extra money more than anything school could teach me. I dropped out to help, then never really looked back. Not like I needed a degree with my job.”

Eliot’s whole view is shattered like that. It isn’t like he didn’t know that high school wasn’t indicative of much, but a part of him assumed that those around him had more education than him, that his failure started there. But that internal bias has just been shaken up.

“What you do isn’t easy, E,” Hardison tells him intently as if to drive the point home, just in case Eliot missed it. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’ve always thought you were very smart too,” Parker agrees. “You know things, makes me feel safe that you’re there to help me find a way out. You think like me. We’re us. I like us being us together.”

And Eliot really hopes the blood loss is substantial enough that he can blame the moist eyes and choked up voice on it as he says: “Thanks, I- uhm, I’ll try to see it like that.”

“We’ll be here to remind you,” Parker informs him happily as she crawls into bed next to him and snuggles into his good shoulder.

“Yeah, man, we won’t let you forget you’re our own smart ass,” Hardison smiles as he sits on Eliot’s other side, letting their legs press together while being cautious of his injuries.

“You’re the smart ass,” Eliot ribs, aware that Hardison probably let him have that easy comeback so they could leave the emotional talk behind them if he wanted too.

“And still you put up with me,” Hardison says, letting his smile turn back into that smug little grin from before.

“Sadly,” Eliot grouches, but he doesn’t mean it and they all know it.

So, yeah, Eliot never graduated high school. He has made some stupid decisions in his life and lived the consequences, but he has learned from them too and picked up all sorts of skills that make him a smart hitter, who made it to 38 already.

Eliot hasn’t disappeared into a shallow grave before he could reach proper adulthood like so many around him have. Instead he found a family who want him there and make sure he has them to come home to, alive and well.

Quickly – quicker than they had any right to – they made themselves comfortable in his heart and he can’t be mad, because the work they do feels good and they all work well together, both as five and as three. They have found something they’re good in and they relish in it.

Nate and Sophie leaving when they do means that the others have to refind a balance. But they have been taught and mentored, given room to learn how to swim, before getting thrown in the deep end of the pool. So, they’re prepared to say goodbye when the moment comes.

And when they go, Eliot feels comfortable in promising that he will keep them safe till their dying day. That he has the skills and intelligence to keep Hardison and Parker alive until they all retire together. It took him a while to get here, but he is finally comfortable with who he is and what he can do. What he does.

Eliot is smart enough to run with the best thieves in the world that more than counts as being intelligent in his book. And it’s not like Hardison or Parker let him forget it, they’re stubborn like that.

[theredhobbit]

[fangirlwithasweettooth]

I really love that both of my bosses are constantly talking about the diets they’re on and how much weight they’ve lost and are giving me well-meaning nutrition advice 🙃 it’s not like I get enough of that from my parents already 🙃

[ask-the-celestial-family]

But Harvest, you’re going to get to experience another level of guilt about that.

I already know I’m a horrible excuse for a brother. I hurt him just because I was angry. There’s no excuse for it, I just did it because he was in my way of yelling at Bloody, which I shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. But it’s Christmas. So I’ll suck it up ‘til midnight because today is supposed to be happy. They won’t be upset at what happened to me and I won’t let me being guilty ruin the day. -Harvest Moon💕

[its-not-rainingg]

I told my friend over the phone I told her I'm watching him and I'm worried and he's only twelve and she asked me how old were you and I'm just sorry I need a minute. Um. Fuck. Shit ah... I'm gonna go to sleep now. I just. Like. Damn. It's getting not good btw in my head if I post weird shit or I don't post um yeah. I just can't shower or change clothes or brush my teeth or eat food or anything and the only thing stopping me from hurting myself is the fact I can't get far enough out of bed to get anything sharp and I don't really feel like a person and I keep my brain keeps leaving my body and floating around the room and I'm not well or happy and I can't really talk to anyone about it because they've all got their own shit and my family's not like that and I'm really really tired and want to die quite a lot but can't and I play my music so loud it hurts and to be honest I'm really fucking lonely. Um yeah. Stupid struggles. I don't deserve to be loved as much as I am. Or like I wish people didn't love me. Sorry. Yeah I'm sorry. If you've read this far I'm sorry. I'm sorry to everyone who loves me.

[demigod-jack-hearth]

THIS IS A SELF INSERT PJO OC RP BLOG

Please don't send donation asks because 1, I'm a minor and can't donate, 2, I feel guilty that I can't donate and 3, I can't tell whether they're scams or not

Moodboard by @reyna4ever

TWs

(mental health issues, SH, suicidal mentions, SA, occasionally gore, swearing)

Family is the most important thing

Name: Jack Hearth she/her

Age: 17. Birthday= 16th December

Sexuality : pansexual

Height : 6"2 (WOOOO, growth spurt)

Gender : female (jack's gone fully fem)

Pronouns : she/her

Godly parent: none/adopted by Hestia @unproblematic-hestia

Legacy of @bast-the-best26 (Egyptian goddess of cats)

Relationship status : single

Patrons

warm orange eyes, swimmers build, celestial bronze hand

Fatal flaw: low self-esteem + personal loyalty

Backstory :

parents died in a car crash, and she was chased by hellhounds, this is where Hestia found and saved her life, she then named her, her champion even if she is mortal, she then helped her get to CHB where she stayed for 6 years, before moving to CJ after the second giant war. She now moves between camps quite often

Powers : fire manipulation, can heal with fire, fire immunity, can summon food, charmspeak, manipulate love, enhanced agility, enhanced senses, partially immortal, plant manipulation, emotion manipulation, can communicate with cats, hydrokinetic, can speak with snakes, can sense monsters, can shapeshift, can control the winds, heals from moonlight, more energy from the moon, can cause someone to go insane, can communicate with dragons, can slightly control dragons, can create hallucinations

Parents : dead

Adopted by

@unproblematic-hestia = mom

@damiedantediane = dad

@mache-of-greece = mama

Siblings :

@thegroovydaughterofhestia

@unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia

@iceweavercatlover

Kids

Face claim :

Cat form

His weapons

There's 2 of these ⬇️

Important starters

Few occ notes

I also run the blog @in-this-together-forever @jacks-best-kid @snowflake-spawn @the-olympus-assassin

OCC is gender fluid - please use they/them unless I've specified

Occ is pan - I will make a lot of jokes about it

A lot of British jokes will be made - I am British

Fanart ⬇️

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR

Alrighty. Going to try bringing the reader’s history more into this one. There’s still a lotta hot going on but this one is more somber with some fluff and feelings and I really hope you like it <3

Thank you to @dogboytim for suggesting Ken helping the reader deal with self esteem/body issues. So definitely a TW for that.

I’ve also been dealing with some emotional shit in my own life and I think I kind used this as a catharsis for myself so….I hope it’s an okay read 🙈

Masterlist for previous parts

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / dealing with past trauma / panic attacks / body dysmorphia / domestic abuse (mentioned as a theme, nothing specific other than leading into the readers self esteem struggles) / horny Ken / caretaking Ken / fluff / feelings / Ken finally gets out of the house / soft sex / oral (fem!receiving) / stubborn Ken / bathroom sex / ptsd / some kinda con-non-con (but reader likes it so it is technically all consensual) / making love vs having sex… (you’ll see)

You squealed as Ken’s fingers entered you swiftly. Apparently you hadn’t been giving him enough attention this morning, *again,* and you were definitely starting to see a pattern forming here. You sat opened legged on your bathroom counter where Ken had placed you moments earlier while you were only trying to brush your hair and get dressed before you found yourself leaning back against the mirror over the sink and pulling his hair.

“I *HATE* class days,” he seethed as his mouth went to attack your clit and you gasped but smiled as you threw your head back. You hadn’t told him that right before he came into the bathroom deciding to be needy once again that you had just received an email that your class had been cancelled for the day, but you decided it didn’t hurt to not tell him for the next few minutes.

“Hmm…ahh…Ken is so needy again.”

Ken’s eyes stared at you as if being challenged and he used his free hand to open up your vulva lips and plant his tongue firmly against you, moving up from your opening slowly. You bucked a little and Ken removed his fingers from your core to place that hand on across your hips, holding you down for him as he began to tongue fuck you.

“Won’t let you leave,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed into you.

You laughed again. “Greedy boy. My class got cancelled today,” you breathed.

Ken paused for a moment to smile, then went back to pleasuring you but less from a place of frustration now as he began going a little slower, loving how you always squirmed when his touch was just a little too slow and your body craved more.

Your cell phone ringtone made you both startle, and you immediately began working to control your breathing when you saw the number.

“Ken, I have to get this,” you said, picking it up to answer it. Ken stopped what he was doing but remained kneeling in front of you, hands gently massaging your thighs. He leaned his cheek into one of your knees and smiled contentedly, pressing a kiss into it.

“Hi, Professor.”

Ken’s face fell.

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N. Sorry I wasn’t able to reply to your email, my Wifi has been dodgy all week.”

“No worries,” you said, noticing Ken’s scowl and trying not to giggle. You ran your fingers through his hair softly and that seemed to calm him down.

“But in answer to your email, unfortunately my plane back has been delayed so I’m not able to meet in-person, but I’m more than happy to answer any questions over the phone if now works for you.”

Ken shook his head.

“Yes! That would be great, thank you. Let me just grab the assignment really quick.” You wrinkled your nose at Ken and attempted to get off the counter but Ken held both of your legs tightly, not letting you go.

“Ken!” You scolded him silently. “I NEED to get my book bag.”

Ken gave you a playful look and stood. “Stay,” he said quietly. He left and within seconds he was back with your bag. You dug the out sample assignment you had been giving in class and smiled a thank you to him.

“Okay, so my first question was about -“ you could have committed a murder right then. Ken had pulled you forward to where you were almost hanging off the counter and dug his lips into your wetness.

“Ah, sorry,” ohhh you were definitely going to kill him, as you stressed over how there was probably no way your voice sounded normal right now no matter how hard you were tying. “Just finding the page.”

“Of course, take your time.”

“Stop it, stop IT,” you almost hissed, pulling the phone away from your ear just long enough to get your words out. Ken’s eyes met yours and your heart jumped. Ohh fuck fuck fuucckkk you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling then, but it definitely wasn’t going to make your phone call any easier.

You kept your eyes glued to his while trying to ask your question, glancing at the paper in your hand every couple moments to make sure your stressed-out brain was remembering how to speak correctly. Ken just stared back at you, waiting, and somehow that tension was worse than if he was fucking you right now because you didn’t know when he was going to strike.

Your professor began answering your question, and you rummaged with your hand in your bag to find a pin to mark on the mock-up assignment when Ken shoved his tongue into your opening, and you could have lunged at him. He smirked.

“This isn’t a game,” you whispered down at him, trying to hold focus enough to write down what you needed to.

His eyes bored into yours. “Oh, I disagree,” they said, twinkling, and he began firmly licking you in circles. You had begun to read his mind simply by how expressive his eyes were, and you felt like you were having a full conversation with them right now.

Your hand shook a little and you cursed internally not being able to write at this moment. You pushed at Ken’s shoulder with your foot but of course he was built like a wall and didn’t budge. He grinned for a second and you caught yourself grinning back in an irritating mixture of frustration but also…. fun? And you hated that you were having fun.

“I’m a professional student,” you kept thinking to yourself on repeat.

“Did that answer what you were asking?” Your professor’s words didn’t register until a few seconds after they were spoken.

“Oh! Yes, it did, thank you so much.”

“Of course. Anything else you need to go over?”

You eyed Ken and wanted to get your answers but also knew it just wasn’t worth it at this point and you would have to talk to your professor after class next week.

“No, that was it. I really appreciate you getting back to me.”

You had NO idea what his reply was as Ken stood up and wrapped your legs around his waist, reaching underneath your butt, but you were able to register your professor saying to have a good day.

“You too, thank you!” You managed to get out before Ken took the phone, hung it up, and tossed it aside as he easily picked you up and carried you over to the wall.

“FUCKING hell, Ken,” you let out. “You cannot do that.”

“Hmmm.” He smirked. You wanted to both slap that smugness off of his face but also kiss him hungrily.

“I’ve got to put you in your place,” you lamented as you became trapped between the wall and Ken holding you up.

“But I *am* in my place,” Ken replied simply, knowing he was egging you on, and solidifying his point by sinking his cock into you.

“I *mean* it - ahhhhhh…” Your mind went blank as your legs held on for dear life around his waist while he fucked up into you sharply.

You both lay panting on the bed, coming down from your highs. Ken held you like usual, butterfly kissing your face while you came back to reality. Your head was swimming from the sex but also from realizing you needed to get Ken interested in something other than you, and fast. He had come into your life right after midterms, and you realized now how much of a blessing that was because you couldn’t fathom how on earth you would get through finals this way.

You petted his cheek. “Ken? Would you like to go on an outing with me today?”

He sat up a little, curious.

“I have been meaning to go to the library anyways, and you could come see my campus with me.”

“I thought you said only students were allowed there.”

“Well, only students can be in the classroom. You are able to come with me to the campus, though.”

Ken smiled, and your heart ached a little at realizing how much you really hadn’t been thinking of how he would probably love going out with you, he just didn’t seem to have the motivation to explore on his own, at least not since you had known him. You thanked yourself for remembering to get him a normal, not open-to-the-hips shirt the other day so he had something to wear, and before long you were both on the bus headed to your school.

The bus was a FASCINATING experience for Ken. You watched in entertained awe at him as he acted like an excited puppy. He pointed out cool buildings and places he wanted to visit to you every few seconds, commented on the unattractive interior design of the bus, and was reaching up to pull the emergency break alert rope when you grabbed his arm top stop him just in time.

His excitement never waned but he had moments of quiet, too, and he held your hand in both of his as he stared out the window. You leaned your head against the seat and studied him.

Who *was* this man, exactly? You never questioned his explanation that he was a literal doll come into your world, and now you wondered why that hadn’t felt difficult to believe. You knew the last couple weeks had been utter chaos on a number of levels, and you realized how much you had actually been needing someone to come in and turn everything into something wonderful for you. That definitely explained your lack of attempting to learn about him, what he was searching for, what he desired and wanted out of life.

You felt melancholy then, watching as Ken pointed to a dog out of the window and turned, smiling at you, making sure you saw it. You smiled back and nodded, and he turned his attention back to the outside world, never letting loose of your hand.

Your heart hurt now. This wasn’t something that could last forever, was it? Or…maybe? You didn’t know anything that was happening, other than in your little condo that you paid for with your inheritance, that life had become a little bubble of a world the two of you had created, something from a fantasy, and you missed it when you weren’t there. When you walked in the door, Ken was always waiting for you, and your little house felt like a home. You decided you needed to start trying to look at things a little more realistically, learn to actually know Ken, see if maybe this whole thing had a futur-

You cut off the thought before it felt too soothing, not wanting to get your hopes up. You sniffed softly and quickly wiped at a tear that you hadn’t expected to form, not wanting Ken to see. You just wanted to focus on enjoying today with him.

Getting off the bus was its own new adventure, as Ken looked around the campus. “Where are your classes? Do you have a favorite classroom? Do you have a favorite study place? Is there somewhere you like to meet with your friends?”

His questions hit you hard, and you hated how oddly sad you felt today. Everything he was asking was less about general curiosity and only meant to better understand YOU and your life and how you existed in it when he wasn’t around.

You two made your way to the library where you found the book you needed and also check-out a book Ken had been absorbed in about horses. You knew you’d have to ask him to explain that one someday.

You were strolling slowly back to the bus stop when you noticed a really nice grassy area shaded by a huge tree, and suggested you both sit there for awhile. Ken happily complied, and you opened your new book to start going over it. Ken snuggled up next to you and would every few minutes ask about something in the book that he didn’t understand as he read over your shoulder, and this was honestly a really easy way to study for your exams, you decided.

Suddenly he felt your body go rigid. Ken noticed and followed your eyesight to see a man staring at you, dark eyes filled with anger. His body stance was tight, one hand in a fist. He looked the personification of pure rage. You felt paralyzed.

“Who is that?”

You worked to answer as you exhaled. “My ex.”

Your ex. He really didn’t know anything about your ex, but he fought like hell to destroy the dagger of jealousy that pierced his heart just then. He realized that was out of place and definitively not called for, especially in this moment, but he couldn’t help it, now thinking of how someone else besides him had been with you in the same way he was with you now, and he loathed the images that flooded his mind.

He leaned down to your ear. “Is that the reason you were crying the other day?”

Unable to verbally reply, tears stung your eyes as your breaths became shaky, although you were working desperately to control your outward appearance. You refused to look wounded in front of him.

That was plenty of confirmation for Ken and he wrapped his arm around you protectively. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me get out of here,” your words barely a whisper as he helped you to your feet swiftly and grabbed the books. You tried to look away but were held captive by the gaze of the man standing across the courtyard from you.

Ken wasn’t sure what hit him then, but he suddenly felt outraged. He handed the books to you. “I’ll be right back,” he seethed, jaw tight.

You snapped back into reality just in time as Ken began swift, long strides over to the man, who look pleased at the attention he was receiving, and smirked in your direction. You jumped forward and gripped Ken’s arm.

“No, no, no, no, Ken, we have to leave.”

He paused and turned back to you because of the panic in your voice.

“He’s just trying to start a fight. I need to go.”

“He hurt you,” Ken bit out.

��Which is why we need to go. He’s angering you on purpose to hurt me again.”

Ken glanced back over his shoulder at the man who pulled his hand out of his fraternity jacket and waved mockingly. Ken huffed but hated how you were pleading with him, so he turned away and you both began walking briskly out of his sight.

You both remained quiet on the way home other than Ken asking if there was anything he could do a couple of times. You bit at your nails restlessly until the bus stopped at your exit station and you took Ken’s hand and hurried off back to your condo. You didn’t feel safe until you were back inside your home with the front door double locked.

You had kept your gaze on the floor the whole journey home, and Ken gently placed his hands on your arms, leading you to sit down on the sofa as he kneeled in front of you and took your hands in his.

“What did he do?” His voice sounded shaky, as if afraid of hearing the answers.

You felt fairly certain Ken didn’t know about certain forms of violence that happened between couples. From what he had told you about Barbieland, that idea had never been considered.

“So many things,” you were still trying to hold back tears. “So, so many things.”

“Tell me.”

You looked up from the ground to get lost in Ken’s blue eyes filled with concern and wanting nothing more than to understand so he knew how to help. The thought that telling him about what had happened and how that fresh new understanding of reality would probably break him just to process felt so cruel, and fuck, you didn’t want to lose the one innocent aspect you had had in your life. You broke out into sobs, trying to hide your face and Ken let you, your hands hiding your eyes as Ken wrapped his arms around your legs and placed his chin on your knee, waiting patiently.

“What is it you’re so scared to tell me?” He asked when your sobs became less loud.

How could you answer this without actually answering this…

“Sometimes, when people are in relationships, they can do really horrible things to their partners. They can hurt them really badly, in ways that sometimes never fully heal. That pain,” you grasped at your chest were you heart was, “it can just sort of stay, and sometimes you only have so much control over how much or how often it can hurt you again.” You began crying harder again, and Ken slowly got up and sat next to you, softly cradling you in his arms. You were thankful for the warmth and cried into his chest as he just held you like that until you were ready to say more. He wanted to know every detail of what you had gone through but also knew not to push it and wanted to respect the boundary you were holding with him. He worked to keep his body language soft and protective while fuming inside.

“Sometimes, though,” your voice was a little hoarse from all the crying, “people are able to find other people who help them. Who make them feel safe. Who are kind and gentle and who you know would never intentionally harm you.” You placed a hand on his chest next to your head, and his anger felt like it was seeping through his veins like the lava from a volcano as it erupted, filling every inch of him.

He had never felt this way before. You felt his muscles clench around you, but not tightening on you so as not to hurt you.

“What is it, Ken?”

“I feel angry,” he got out, jaw clenched again.

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He breathed in sharply. “How do I make sure he will never do it again?”

“I got a restraining order awhile back. That’s why he wasn’t able to walk over to us and was instead trying to get you to come to him instead. He tries to find new ways to scare me without getting in trouble legally anymore. He went for you hoping you would fall for it, to send me an extra message, that he is still capable to hurt anything I love.”

Ken felt his throat go dry. He wanted nothing more now than you follow up on those last few words, but now wasn’t the time to validate anything for himself. He needed to keep focused on caring for you.

“I will take care of you, y/n. I’m protect you. I promise.”

You felt his words vibrate through his chest right into your ear and felt his chin rest on the crown of your head.

“I will always be here.”

You smiled the tiniest smile and leaned into him more. “I know.”

Ken swelled with happiness, his anxiety calming down a little bit. You pulled back and Ken lifted your legs to rest over his lap, arms keeping their place around you.

“Days like today,” you said, “they have become less about physical danger to me. It’s all about hear,” you placed one of Ken’s hands gently on the side of your head. “It’s the memories that still hurt, and he works to bring them back.”

“How can I help make them go away, at least for now?”

You thought about it, then shook your head. “They’ll fade again, as they always do, for awhile. I think I need to clear my head and shower.”

Ken nodded and helped you stand up. “Do you need me?”

“I think I need just a minute to myself.”

“Okay. I understand.”

You stood on tiptoes to place the tiniest of kisses on the tip of his nose, then slowly began to head towards the bathroom.

Ken came in later when he head the shower faucet turned off, and walked in to check on you. Typically you had to issue being naked as soon as you dried off, but you had wrapped yourself tightly in a towel and he noticed the mirror had a towel over it, too.

You had hoped he wouldn’t walk in and have to explain another leftover stupid fucking thing from your previous relationship.

You tumble over your words to just get it over with, and his eyes grew wider with each passing sentence.

“But…..” he seemed incredulous, almost as if you had made the whole thing up. “You’re so beautiful.” It was stating a fact. There was no argument and he couldn’t comprehend anyone disagreeing.

“Sometimes I feel the opposite. You roughly brushed your hair just to have something to do.

Ken couldn’t believe the raw audacity that someone would harm someone else with words to make them hate how they looked, even for a second. He told you this in so many words, but finished with that even thought he didn’t understand, he did understand that your hurt didn’t hurt less just because he wanted it to.

You looked up at him, holding back tears, suddenly feeling the most intense desire to get lost in this man who genuinely could not process the pain you were in because it seemed so brutal, so cruel, so incredibly ridiculous that anyone would have to bear the weight that you were carrying. You need that, that little wisp that he offered of getting lost in the reality of his mind that knew so little but also someone knew and felt so much.

“Make love to me, Ken.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what you were asking, but he someone instinctively knew what you asked for, and walked over to you, ever so gently taking your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was like a spark went off in your head. Ken was gentle, taking your lips in his in tiny movements as if he might break you if he touched you too hard. You moaned to encourage him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and in turn he held you closer to him, his arms now around your back.

He kissed you lovingly and with passion you had never known before, pulling back to stare into your eyes, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had made himself master of your command, and he wanted you to be in charge of everything that happened right now, anything that would make you feel loved the way he hoped you wanted to.

“Take me to the bed?”

Ken picked your wrapped figure up bridal style and did as you asked, laying you down and holding you to him, your faces inches apart on the pillow. You initiated kissing again, and his hand caressed the back of you head, pulling you a little closer. His tongue traced the your bottom lip and you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“What do you need?” He was completely lost in wanting to care for you.

You didn’t reply, not to be rude, but your brain froze up again, not wanting to see your own body be uncovered right now.

Ken reached for the top of the towel, fingers closing around it, waiting for your consent. You shook your head.

“That’s alright,” he soothed, seeing guilt spread across your face. The he had an idea.

“What if you close your eyes, and I undress you under the comforter?”

You contemplated this then nodded, feeling small and mousy. Ken pulled his shirt over his head and then the comforter over both of you as he hovered over you but not putting too much pressure on you.

You closed your eyes as his hand went back for the towel, and as he began pulling it apart, pausing every few seconds to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind, he left tender kisses down your neck and collarbone, sucking softly, and he it felt so good to him when he heard you moan. The towel eventually fell open, lying underneath you, your body bare.

Ken ran his large hand up and down your body, grazing the side of your breast and then down your stomach and hip, your body responding so naturally it was as if he had been created just to touch you. You opened your eyes, relaxing, and saw him watching you, studying your every emotion.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He smiled warmly. “Hi.”

You placed your hands on his chest just to touch him. “You make me feel loved.”

If Ken could have physically melted, he would have in that moment. “That is always my intention.”

You pulled him down to you, consuming his lips, and Ken’s body molded into yours as he somehow fully surrounded you, covered in a little cave of a comforter. You felt like nothing could penetrate the safety he provided for you right now.

You reached towards towards his jeans and unbuttoned them, him raising his hips enough to where you two were able to get them kicked off.

“Need you,” you said, pulling him to you.

He nodded and began to move downwards but you stopped him.

“I just want to feel *you.”

“But…you…I haven’t done anything yet -“

“I’m fine, Ken.” You promised. “I just need to feel you, now.”

He moved back up so your hips lined up perfectly and you opened your legs for him as he dipped his member into your folds. He gasped a little at how wet you already were.

He looked confused. “How..?” He trailed off, then, “I thought I needed to make you wet.”

“You always do.”

Ken breathed in deeply. His feelings for you soared, and he felt like he might be floating a little. He rubbed his tip against your opening and you put your arms around his neck again.

“Show me how much you love me, Ken.”

That was the last confirmation he needed as he dipped his cock into you, making himself keep shallow thrusts as you got used to his size before moving slowly deeper inside of you.

His hands roamed your body, stopping every few inches to tell you how beautiful you were, how majestically you moved, how perfect your noises were. He kissed each part he could reach with hips lips for emphasis, wanting to cover you with his love, and you felt that energy wash over every piece of you that he touched.

You felt beautiful, you felt seen and held and your hands explored Ken’s body at the same time.

You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair as he began to move faster but still maintaining a much slower pace then usual, both of you completely lost in each other for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you began to feel your climax building, but loved how tenderly Ken was fucking you, and didn’t want it to change.

“Keep going, just like that, Ken. Please.”

His hand gripped your hip as he felt you arch a little, and he knew you were close. He wanted every single thrust to matter, for you to feel what he was hoping you would feel from him. He kept the pace you asked for, only making his movement a little rougher as you eyes begin to close tightly, your hands pulling on his hair now.

“Y/n,” he coaxed. “Please keep your eyes open. I want to see you.”

You did as he asked, and you swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight then him staring down at you, and you lost it then, the most wonderful wave traveling from your legs all the way up into your chest, warm and tingly and almost healing in how it felt.

Ken followed right after, keeping his eyes on yours as well, so tender and so content, and you held him as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both panted.

Ken almost cried as he engulfed you with his arms when he heard your next words, breathy but firm.

“I love you, too, Ken.”

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@uncle-eggy

[fagdykevash]

you've gotta be fucking kidding me. like what is this framing.

giggling and laughing and chuckling and then i think abt the dating sim scene then i collapse on the floor

[pinkroseblooms]

Birthday Wishes

Summary: Uramichi may not like birthdays, but he might like you. 2.5k A/N: Official art from Gaku Kaze; Uramichi Omota/F!Reader, lots of fluff and some humor. TW: Mentions of depression and self esteem issues (kinda a given considering it's Uramichi, but still) Enjoy!

Working on Together with Maman was one of the most thankless, tedious jobs you’ve ever been underpaid to do. While the director got to lord over the staff and the actors got some praise and respect, you were just one of the many unsung heroes behind the scenes. Editing out Uramichi Omota’s regular mental breakdowns and existential crises from the show’s footage was a full time job in and of itself, but you did it every week without fail for the past three years. At this point you could practically do it in your sleep; sometimes Uramichi’s strained, desperate attempts to keep a cheerful expression on his face made regular appearances in your dreams. You suspected the void that was his stare would haunt your mind long after the time came for you to leave Together with Maman .

You did feel a bit guilty at the twinge of resentment you had toward the cast when they got the lion’s share of the glory. After all, they all had their good points: to start, Kumitani was fairly considerate of the staff, particularly those on the lowest rungs of the workplace hierarchy. Speaking of hidden kindness, despite Utano’s complaints, she was a devoted and thoughtful girlfriend. Iketeru’s childish wonder and joy was infectious; he hardly ever complained and was very appreciative. Even Usahara with his bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth, was still committed to a certain level of professionalism and was quick to amend for his mistakes. When everything was said and done, you had a fondness for them all.

Last but not least, there was Uramichi. One works with many different types in the entertainment industry and you were no stranger to washed up, jaded, regularly drinking their weight in booze performers putting on a show off and on camera but Uramichi was the worst.

Needless to say, you were crazy about the man.

Today was Uramichi’s 32nd birthday and though he no doubt would prefer to ignore such a day all together, you couldn’t help yourself. This was the perfect time to do something to show your appreciation for Uramichi and not just as a gymnast oniisan. With any luck, he might not hate it. In fact, you were certain he was going to love what you chose to do.

After making up an excuse to get his attention, Uramichi dutifully trailed after you, grim faced and changed out of his costume. You intercepted him just as Usahara and a somewhat less enthusiastic Kumatani were going to usher their colleague to a bar for a night of begrudging celebration. As unlikely as it was that Uramichi would rather spend any evening doing more work, you thought he seemed a bit relieved to be taken away. 

“Sorry, this won’t take long.”

“It’s fine.” Uramichi assured you in the most unconvincing attempt you ever heard. “Your job is editing, right? What do you need me for?”

“I wanted to get your approval on a few things. I wanted to work in some parts of what you were saying to the kids before.”

“From the segment about labeling?” 

That particular sketch was meant to teach the children about putting their names on their school things. Doing this would help them keep track of their positions, as well as teach them about personal responsibility. It could even be a good chance to allow children to practice their spelling and penmanship. It all went about as well as it could have.

“The bit where you warned the children about adhering to the labels others will try to assign to you and how the pressures of society are designed to slowly crush any trace of individuality that doesn’t help them go with the flow was a bit long winded, but I think we can keep in bits and pieces.”

“You…want to keep it in?”

“I mean, it’s not a bad message.” You type in the passcode to the staff room. “The script is good, but you have a way of talking to kids so they can understand without talking down to them. Not everyone learns at the same pace; it helps when adults can get on a kid’s level. Most are too proud.”

“You,” Uramichi followed you into the room. “Are you saying I lack pride as an adult?”

“What? No.”

As you pull out a seat for Uramichi to use, his face says he doesn’t believe you. Seeing how despondent he is makes you want to call the whole thing off, but then you would have to come up with an excuse as to why you requested his presence in the first place. 

Anyone would be justified in feeling insulted at Uramichi’s knee jerk reaction to assume the worst; it’s hardly charming, but you get it. How much of Uramichi’s attitude is natural or something he uses like a shield is anyone’s guess. 

“I guess it makes sense. It’s not like we know each other that well. Besides, this is our first time speaking one on one and I had to lie to you.” 

Uramichi was glancing around the room; there wasn’t any projector or cameras or a computer. 

“Wait, so you don’t think I have any pride?”

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” You stare in disbelief. “I meant about looking over the footage. Hold on, I need to-”

“So then…was all that other stuff you said just to get me to come here?”

“No, it wasn’t. I’ve already got someone editing that segment anyway.” 

In the corner is an easel, like one of the props they use for presentations in the show. Instead of a whiteboard or a display of cartoon images, there’s a sheet covering up the project you’ve been working on just for today. 

“That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going to lecture me about being more professional so you didn’t have such a heavy workload. I’m sure most of your time is taken up erasing the evidence of my family unfriendly fits of despair. My bad.”

“Even hearing you apologize is bumming me out.” You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that much trouble. Besides, it’s really not my place to scold you or the other cast members.”

“Why not? You have to make up for our screw ups. Don’t tell me it can’t be stressful. You look tired just being here.”

“That’s not really something you should say to a woman. Well, anyone really.”

The blank stare widens as Uramichi realizes what he implied, but you cut him off. Things have gotten awkward enough without dragging on this conversation. Besides, you brought him here to cheer him up, if that’s even possible.

“I hope you like this. I made it for your birthday. Well, I put it together. The kids made it.”

You unveil the display with a smile, hoping you had this right and Uramichi wasn’t going to walk out. Or worse, put on his fake smile to spare your feelings. You prefer an honest reaction to your efforts.

“These are all the drawings kids have sent in for the past year. I got the idea to save them up and make a collage.”

The board is covered in crayon doodles, rough sketches, and messy paintings. There’s some postcards and pages ripped from coloring books. Almost all of them are of Uramichi-oniisan in various costumes, mainly his tracksuit: in some he’s frolicking with Kumao-kun or Usao-kun or holding hands with Utano and Iketeru. Some illustrations are of Uramichi surrounded by children or animals or just random scribbles. There’s also a decent amount featuring Kotori-san but you try not to think about that too hard. 

“I thought maybe we could show the board in a show, but I wanted you to see it first. We could keep it safe in the studio, if you don’t have room for it in your place. It’s your birthday present.” 

Uramichi stands up to get a closer look; he doesn’t look appalled and you choose to take this as a good sign. You step to the side, trying not to seem too nervous when he stands by your side; after a minute, Uramichi still hasn’t said anything. Even so, you’re feeling more worried by the second.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Good.” You smile, but don’t feel too relieved. “You’re not just saying that, right? It’s okay, you can be honest. Is it too cheesy? Maybe I should have left out the ones with Kotori-san.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I hate that demon, but the kid’s probably worked hard to draw it. I don't mind so much. You said this took a year?”

“More or less. Uramichi, whatever you think, you’re appreciated. The kids see you do your best. It’s more than a lot of people bother to do. I figured you wouldn’t want a staff party, but everyone here sees it too. We’re glad to have you as our gymnast oniisan.”

Uramichi was still looking over the pictures. “You work a lot harder than I do.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Our jobs are just different.”

“But no one gives the behind the scenes crew much credit. I’ve never been especially considerate to your job before, but you spent a year making me a present?”

“I only collected the drawings. It only took a couple hours to actually put it together.” You replied. “Is this too much?”

“Yeah. I don’t deserve this.” Uramichi told you bluntly. “I don’t get it. Why did you do this?”

For a long time now, you’ve watched Uramichi drag himself through the day; as much as he professes going through the motions, you know that’s not exactly true. 

“The thing is, I wish I could do more. I want you to have a nice birthday.”

“I don’t like celebrating my birthday. It just reminds me that I’m a year older and I’ve wasted more time. Which is strange, since I don’t even know why I feel that way. I can’t even imagine what else I would be doing if I wasn’t an oniisan, so why do I feel like I’m wasting time at all? I can’t do this forever. I’m already 32, but I don’t have anything planned for when I get too old for Together with Maman. ’’

“You could probably still find work on another show. It doesn’t have to be physical. Unless you want to leave the industry for something else entirely. I bet you could do something with your physical education degree; you’ve had experience with children, then maybe you could work that into whatever you go for next.” 

“That…sounds like a lot to think about.”

You can’t help laughing a little at how defeated Uramichi looks just from the prospect of having to start over. It’s oddly cute, like a sad puppy being told they have to go to the vet.

“It is, but if you do it one step at a time, it won’t be so daunting. That’s why I like birthdays: I see them as a chance to, well,” You scratch your head. “It’s like, yes, I made it another year! It wasn’t easy, but I’m here and that’s enough. It’s something to celebrate.”

“Hey, you should be more careful with how you phrase things.”

“What did I say wrong?”

“You’re going to make me think you have feelings for me or something.” Uramichi chuckles dryly, turning his back on you to head toward the door. “If I was Usahara, I would take this as a proposal. But anyway, thanks. I can’t remember when someone tried so hard. I guess I should return the favor. I’m being emotionally blackmailed into going out tonight: if you want, you can join. Or not. Do you drink?”

“Yes, to both.”

“Both?”

“I wanted to tell you this now, before I start taking classes full time next month. Uramichi, I like you. I do, so,” You clear your throat. “Happy birthday. I hope you’ll still accept the poster. It’s more from the kids than me anyhow. I was going to bake you something, but I wasn’t even sure if you liked cake or-”

“You talk a lot. Hold on, I need a minute.”

Uramichi has his head in his hands; he looks pale and visibly disturbed. It seems like your confession wasn’t appreciated, but you could have guessed as much. Maybe you’re too different or maybe Uramichi just isn’t interested in dating.

You can respect that, no matter how much it hurts you. In hindsight, it would have been better to keep quiet or just wait until your time was done at the studio, but you naively assumed Uramichi might like hearing someone cared. Not everything comes with conditions or ulterior motives; sometimes the pay off is as straightforward as making someone else’s day a little easier to get through. 

“I’m sorry. I should go.” You make your way past him to the door. “I hope you enjoy your night!”

“Wa-wait don’t just leave! You can’t drop a bomb like that and just breeze past like-like-!” Uramichi stumbles to get to you before you rush outside. “You’re serious? Did Usahara put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Well, are you, like, sure? You didn’t mistake me for someone else?”

“You’re Uramichi Omota?”

“Yeah.”

“If this makes you uncomfortable, you really don’t have to worry, I never said anything to anyone else.”

“It’s not that. I’m just…processing. Do you really?”

“You know, maybe the next segment we do should be on active listening skills.” You cross your arms. “Uramichi, this isn’t rocket science. If you’re not interested, okay. I’ll live. I don’t mind being single, but I wouldn’t be bothering you with this if I wasn’t serious.”

Uramichi seems calmer, but no less baffled; it’s probably the most emotion you’ve ever seen him emote at once that wasn’t irritation or exhaustion. Surely he has had other girls confess to him before; you heard he was pretty popular in school. You don’t see why he’s having a hard time handling this one. 

“When I was drunk, I said I thought you were cute. I wouldn’t put it past that damn bunny to try to rope you into one of his pranks.”

You grin. “You did? When?”

“Come on, I’m embarrassed enough. I’m too old for this.”

“For what?”

“To act this way.” Uramichi sighs and drags a hand over his face. “I hate it. It’s like I’m back in high school or something. It’s awkward and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t you already feel that way?”

“That doesn’t help.”

“So then?” You shrug your shoulders. “Am I cute enough to date?”

To your surprise, Uramichi’s cheeks flush slightly; you wonder if your own nervousness is showing. Truly, adults pretend as much as kids do. 

“Is that offer for a drink still valid? Unless you don’t want me flirting with you in front of everyone.”

“No way.” Uramichi objects. “I don’t want to deal with that headache. Let’s not say anything until after you’re done working here.”

“Oh, now who’s making big plans for the future?” You can't resist a little more teasing. "I thought looking that far ahead was too much to handle?"

“That was when I didn’t have something to look forward to.”

Uramichi might not have meant it to sound like a line; he said it with the same bland, borderline monotone that he usually spoke with, but you feel butterflies all the same. 

[npdzane]

Hiiiii, could you explain you npd Zane hc to me? As someone who lives with a narcissist, I’m very interested.

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT!!!!!! FOR SO LONG!!!!!!

Tw I think bc ik i will be mentioning sh. But only for a sentence or two.

Mostly just "he's just like me fr". I get how it can sound confusing, especially as a lot of people tend to see Zane as the opposite of what a (stereotypical) narcissist would act like, so I'll try to explain in a way that makes sense.

I'm going to list off traits I see in him, and then what caused it and how it developed over time. Starting with the traits.

- Pixal is 100% his fp. I don't think there's anything to say about it that hasn't been said already. You don't just give a girl half your heart because you "like her a little" without having some issues.

- "Be envious of others/believe others are envious of them". He stated himself that he envied Kai. He also has moments where he does things that make him look better than others ("I personally find old video games to be unchallenging", something about his tone when he was saying "being a nindroid, I wont be able to be digested.", he also just does a lot of random flips and shit when its not needed?? That part may be a stretch though.).

- "Withdrawal from situations where they may fail." In Quest for the Lost Powers, he almost quits out of fear that he won't be able to face the Ice Emperor without breaking down. He also tends to tell someone they shouldn't do something because the chance of failing is too high.

- "Feeling depressed or moody over not reaching perfection/secretly feeling insecure, shameful, and humiliation and fearing being exposed as a failure" In s4, he panics over feeling like he'll always be just a replica of the original Zane. He's desperately begging Pixal to save him from said panic too (which fits into the last trait). He still has similar fears to this day, feeling like being seen as just a robot takes away from his original design. Meaning he failed at fitting in, which was always his goal.

- "Have trouble interacting with others and easily feel sighted" in the entirety of S1-3, he struggles HEAVILY to talk to the others. Granted this does get better throughout the series, but it's getting bad again it seems. He often goes on solo missions or stays in the monastery/Destiny's Bounty. I personally think it's because he feels the others don't see him as vital to the team as they should, or he believes he doesn't need help with anything from anyone (but Pixal). The point is there is some sense of "they don't appreciate me enough".

- "React with rage or contempt to try to belittle others to make them appear superior". Again, bringing back the "I find older video games to be non challenging" quote. As well as the fact that every time Pixal is obviously very annoyed by him, he ignores her and carries on with what he thinks is the right idea (Detective/Pirate Zane obviously was a bad idea, but noooo Zane can't be wrong ever). He doesn't react with rage as much (at least not openly), however he does ignore people when he's doubted.

Ok! That's not as much as I thought! A few other things I wanted to point out, although these are also headcanons:

- His self esteem is TERRIBLE.

- What he believes he doesn't make up for in battle, training, etc, he tries to make up for in smarts and hobbies to impress people.

- He bases his opinions on people based on assumptions. For example, he'll assume everything about a person's personality and hobbies (sometimes even their skill level at those hobbies) based on first impressions. So, say he meets someone like Jay who seems very excited about something he doesn't like, his first assumption will be "this person is most likely annoying and a waste of time because they're trying to be as good as me, that's not egotistical that's just an observation. Everyone complimenting them is simply lying to them.".

- He refuses to believe any of his flaws are his fault, sure he can say he has flaws but they're all someone else's fault. It's never just how he is, it's always because "someone caused me to act like this".

- He switches between "I'm literally amazing I'm so smart I'm funny I'm good at everything" to "Everyone hates me for no reason I dont deserve any of this they're all terrible awful people" and then again to "I'm not good enough yet I need to push myself more so they'll see I'm better than they think". All because of a small bit of criticism. He absolutely cannot handle criticism. ("Why are you doubting me!? I'm a nindroid!" <- when Kai tried helping him, "Not now Pixal!" <- when Pixal told him trying to out-smart Nadakhan was a bad idea)

- I think him and Pixal argue a LOT. It's why I don't openly ship pixane. I believe ever since he found out she was Samurai X his trust issues got way worse (While he is easily trusting, once he does trust someone it's hard to not break it). He constantly uses their "no more secrets" promise agaisnt her, and he thinks that no matter what she or anyone else tells him, the probability of her keeping something from him is high, and he has to stop it (even if it means being extra clingy, possessive, and controling). But the other ninja somehow haven't noticed this from them, they just believe it's normal couple banter.

Sorry, like I said, this headcanon is coming out of my ass. Now I can talk about what caused it.

I see Dr. Julien as a good father to Zane, just not the best one. Like he's at the lower end of average. Not abusive so to speak, just overly critical and slightly neglectful. Zane's a robot, so why can't he do the things Dr. Julien tells him to do well enough! Julien accidentally made him too similar to the (daughter..ftm moment.) son he wanted, so similar that it turns out Zane needed the same amount of attention and support an actual child would've needed, which Julien didn't account for. Zane was used to only receiving the bare minimum of those two by s1. Unfortunately the bare minimum is far from enough. Not to mention the isolation he had to live through living in Birchwood, far from the village.

I think what we see as OG Zane is basically his child/early teen stage. Anything past s4 is late teen/adult, which is when his symptoms started showing up more. The other ninja, especially Wu, noticed he was starting to cling to Pixal much more (especially since she was in his mind). He'd also start spending more time on hobbies and things to impress people. Thinking if they thought his new self was better than his old self, he wouldn't be seen as a failed replica of the original Zane. He thought he could hide the fact it was all just to look better than everyone else, but either Kai or Cole picked up on it (Kai because he acts similarly in that way, and Cole because he's usually the first to notice things wrong with Zane.). When they showed their concern, Zane only saw it as motivation to try harder and them trying to take Pixal from him.

After the Never Realm, his self esteem and worth went to absolute shit. Not only was he abused and manipulated, he was at fault for the deaths of thousands.

But worst of all, he let himself be abused. Or at least that's what he believes (the Quest for the Lost Powers also confirms this!). He blames himself massively. How could he let himself fall for that? Why didn't he fully cover up the cave to stop threats from coming in? Why didn't he kill Vex when he got his memories back? Why did he let Vex control him? Isn't he supposed to be perfect? How could someone who claims to be perfect let himself slip up like that?

He definitely started to push himself more after coming back. In training, in battle, with maintaining the monastery, with cooking for the others, hobbies, you get the point. He'd completely forgotten to be patient with himself while trying to gain control over his powers and his life again. Meaning the next time he tried to use them in training, they were out of control and he ended up failing and hurting himself. But how? How could he not be perfect if he was trying as hard as he could? If he was programmed to be the best, why isn't he?

Pixal was also starting to get annoyed with Zane, he was way too attached and she knew that. It made her fall out of love, if there was any in the first place. Zane refused to let her separate from him though, especially since there was still the idea that she was keeping things from him. He believed Pixal didn't think he was worth caring about, causing him to purposely make himself worse in hopes her pity will keep her with him. He'd already been struggling with self harm, but now it was as a punishment for failing as well as a way to get Pixal not to leave (See why I don't ship them now?). I would love to talk about how I think he s/h but it'd take another post.

Now that Pixal is gone, he's getting way worse mentally. Which is why he seems like he's not working as well as usual (in the tournament). It's not like he's not trying anymore, it's that he hasn't let himself rest enough for his efforts to work.

That was way less than i expected to say (⁠･⁠o⁠･⁠;⁠). Anyway! Yeah!!! It is just mainly headcanons, but if Zane were confirmed to have some kind of personality disorder in a different world where ninjago isn't for tiny kids I wouldn't be surprised!!!

TY TY TY TY FOR ASKING IVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO YAP ABOUT THIS. 😭😭😭😭

[hispieceofcake]

Adam and the abandonment issues and the negligence of heaven

Hello hello folks, I've been thinking and searching a little lately about Adam and deep questions about his personality, and also because a person (a person who has caused me a lot of harm) came to fight with me because I like Adam and today I'm going to talk a little more about this, I hope you like it.<3

TW: Mentions of trauma,heavy subjects,negligence,profanity,and mention of sex.

Firstly, I want to address his creation, Adam the first man, the perfect creation by the hands of God, molded and sculpted in his own image, the one who would be responsible for the earth's settlement betrayed by the two woman he was forced to love because they had been created for him.

And yes, I know that Adam tried to command Lilith and try to subject her to her unwillingness, but then I think, no one had ever told him that it was wrong, from the first moment he was created was told that he was God's perfect creation, so he probably felt so "special" that he thought he could boss Lilith around. And then, the first betrayal...knowing that the person he loved hated him and betrayed him with an angel and then falling to hell with him.

And then came Eve...made from a piece of his flesh, his rib, the one made from his own being that he would love just as Lilith did. And then again another betrayal, Lucifer again, but this time not only taking his wife's fidelity but also betraying his trust by trusting Eve and eating the forbidden fruit.

So I think, guys, how much did all of this must have hurt? What is the pain of being betrayed by the people you swore your love to and having your trust betrayed?

Adam all the time in the series he always seems to reassert himself to himself and to people, he look needs that, I just think how insufficient and useless he felt after everything he's been through, to the point of creating a false narcissistic and arrogant personality to hide the broken man deep within himself. Inside all that facade of "Dick Master" and "The First Man" there is only Adam, only a betrayed and hurt man.

The pain of betrayal, I know what it's like, the fear of being deceived and abandoned again by someone better than you, Adam knows what it's like, he knows what it's like to go through it twice. Hiding your real self for fear of being abandoned again, being ridiculed, being seen as weak, try to feel enough by reaffirming to yourself that he is the best, he is the most badass, that he is the first man like a little boy.

I have in my mind that Adam also wears that mask due to low self-esteem because he never takes it off, not even in heaven, unlike Lute who takes off the mask to walk freely in the heaven, but Adam keeps the mask on all the time even though he doesn't need to. I imagine when he got to heaven he was the only one with human appearance, all other angels and winners (Human souls going to heaven) had different appearances, such as animal appearances, so I think he may have made that mask with horns to feel more integrated into that society and less different, and uses it all the time because he feels insecure about his appearance, because of the trauma of being abandoned in the past, not feeling that his appearance was enough, that he wasn't good enough and then just like his false personality he keeps the mask as part of it.

But the question of all this is: did he realize most of it? Everyone thinks that Adam's actions were born out of conscious hatred and malice, like many villains in the series, but I see that more than his choices came out of ignorance and years of incompetent molding by others, pride manifested in negative ways like vanity and arrogance. , while Charlie was raised with limits, pride manifested in more reasonable things like self-respect. To make a long story short, Adam has always been an idiot since he was created, there are lines where he says without sarcasm or hesitation that he has never made a mistake in his entire life, sounding as if he sincerely thinks he has never made a mistake, the fact that he can say that with sincerity and a clear conscience despite being guilty of almost every sin in the book so far really sets him up for a question that makes you wonder what's going on in his head.

And then this line from him in the trial episode: "Well, yeah, they have me here, right, Sera?"

And there it is, the tone and voice of an insecure and confused boy who doesn't know what he preached seeking approval, that's another reason why you can't be mad at Adam, he never had proper guidance or teaching in his entire existence both in the garden of Eden and both in heaven.

In the final episode Adam then gives his final speech, and the way it was presented sounds less like a villain asserting, showing dominance one last time, it's more like genuine confusion, as if this isn't how he was told that things are supposed to be, this isn't how things are supposed to work, which feels a lot like his first dialogue when he's introduced, his understanding seems like such a soft thing and he believes it with all his might, as if he needed something to believe in.

All of us living beings we are generated in our mothers' wombs and then we are born and protected and taught by our fathers, taught what is right and wrong, protected and safe. But Adam, he was just raised as an adult and with a purpose behind him, so I think "Could it be that Adam was just a confused little boy in an adult's body with a big obligation on his hands?"

Adam was barely created and already had a purpose to fulfill, he was barely born and already came face to face with someone different from his physiognomy (different between male and female) and kind of practically forced to love her since he barely knew her (Lilith).

I'm not trying to rub Adam's head (I'd really like to stroke his hair) and put him in the position of victim, but guys, he is also a victim! He had never been taught that it was wrong, God, the Seraphim and all of heaven never lifted a finger to give him advice or try to teach him, no one consoled him after he was betrayed, no one was there for him, no one.

So I assert, that Adam is just protecting himself with his big ego and arrogant narcissism and obeying what he thought was right for the seraphim is all he knows.

I also want to highlight, about the first episode of the series, where the meeting with Charlie takes place. Man, he was practically having to have a face-to-face meeting with the DAUGHTER of his first wife's betrayal with Lucifer, and having to hear her say that what he was doing was wrong (not that it really wasn't, but it was the only way to balance the population of hell since most sinners refuse to redeem themselves), I'm honestly not impressed or surprised by Adam's rude reaction, practically having the living embodiment of his first wife's betrayal in front of him telling him what he was taught and allowed to do was wrong.

Adam is not an idiot without feelings, in the scene of his death you can see this, in the moment he looks at Lute and gives her one last smile as consolation to her because he knew she was little by little dying but this time forever, and also as said before in the court scene where he seeks approval from Sera, like a confused boy looking for approval.

Now moving on to Adam's abandonment issues, as I said before in a headcanons post, Adam reaffirms himself by saying that he hooked up with and had sex with several girls, an example of this is him bragging to Charlie during the meeting that he says he had sex with a girl who was interested in the drummer of his band, but honestly, I think that's all a lie, It may be true but I doubt he felt any connection with any of them, I doubt he took off the mask and showed his true self to them, and besides the fact of his fear of being abandoned again, fear of falling in love again and then being betrayed again, as someone who has been through this, I know how the fear of it continues to haunt you and how it hinders your relationships.

In short, I think that Adam was a victim of the negligent system of heaven, but he was also evil, killing demons en masse and causing genocides in hell in the days of extermination, but here comes a question...

"What would happen if there was no extermination?"

We have already been shown that hell ends up with an overpopulation due to the amount of sinners that go there, if I could guess I would say that more people go to hell than to heaven, and it is well shown that most people in hell don't listen to Charlie and her idea of ​​redemption, so I ask you, Were the exterminations necessary or not?

Well, a while ago I was watching a very good YouTube channel and I found an incredible video where he talked about Adam and whether he deserved to die or not, that's the video if you want to see it, he gave me some inspiration for this post. ☝🏻🤓

Adam was actually a tragic character, in essence I believe Adam was someone who had a lot of insecurities and doubts about himself and hid all of this behind his facade, he built this idiotic bad boy and Dick Master persona around him, with the intention of keeping people at a distance and asserting oneself, thus avoiding more hurt and heartbreak.

When he was about to die, he saw that despite his idiotic facade and his best efforts to keep people away, someone (Lute) still cared about him. And in the end, I think that's all he ever wanted, someone who truly cared about him despite the rude way he treated her, and so he died with a smile on his face. Someone really liked him...(I would also love him regardless of his personality, I would try to understand why he is like that, the famous "I can fix him")

Returning to the subject of neglecting of the heaven, from the same channel I mentioned before I found a very good video that talks about this, addressing Adam, heaven and the history.

In my view, Adam was and was not a victim, he was the antagonist of the first season, of course, but we also have to see that he was also one of the victims and one of the most affected due to the lack of responsibility and negligence of heaven in not having disciplined him or at least taught him that it was wrong, I know that Adam is not a child but for me deep down he was just a confused boy in the body of an adult who had no reception or teaching and was betrayed and abandoned by those he loved and trusted more.

Well guys, that's all for now at least, for me Adam is a deep character, full of hidden pain and confusion, honestly I love Adam, I love him very much, he is one of my comfort characters and one that I identify with a little (As for being neglected, I didn't have very good parents and I paid my price for that and nowadays I have some emotional problems because of that).

I wish more people could see the good in Adam and not just fight me and lecture me like how "you wish I talked about my dick all the time and had sex with all the girls he saw in front of me? Do you will like it?" , this was someone's comment during an argument with me and honestly I was hurt by it, yes I'm a slightly sensitive person, but man, it was hard to try to understand the character a little? not even a bit?

Well, thank you very much for your attention, I really enjoyed writing about Adam, it's always very good, kisses in your hearts, bye bye. 💗🎸

[drawingrainbowsonthewalls]

Episodic Water Dependency [Disorder] [EpWD or EWDD]

Definition: A disorder characterized by having episodes of extreme water dependency that cause discomfort, distress, stress, and/or depressive thoughts, feelings, or actions. These emotions often result in impulsive or compulsive actions in order to be in, near, or consume water/another liquid. [this could also be used as a symptom or aspect of another disorder]

[tw: mentions sh and suicide below]

[Ones Dependent Liquid or DL may vary however this Disorder was made with water in mind… you could call it ELDD, Episodic Liquid Dependency Disorder if you wish or if that fits better]

Symptoms/Criteria:

      1) Distress, discomfort, dysfunction, stress, or dysphoria when one has not been in, near, or in—some cases—consumed water/their DL[dependent liquid] recently.

      2) Having a strong connection to water or your DL[dependent liquid] that may intertwine with various aspects of ones identity.

      3) during an episode being unable to function/experiencing a difficulty in functioning when one has not come in contact with water or their DL[dependent liquid] for short or extended periods of time [this can be as long as a month or as short as a few minutes].

      4) [If one experiences sensory differences] having ones sensory issues get worse during episodes where they have not had contact with water or their DL for an extended or short time. 

      6) experiencing depressive episodes, suicidal and/or self-harm induced thoughts/actions, or similar during/as a result of water dependency episodes. One could also turn to water/their DL for the answer/solution to problems. 

      7) Having these symptoms and experiences be more extreme than typical water/liquid dependency. 

      8) noticing episodic patterns for at least 3 months; an episode, worsening of symptoms, or development of this disorder may occur for a variety of reasons such as external factors like stress or fear as well as internal factors such as self-esteem, brain chemical levels, and/or other mental health problems. 

      9) Fear or distress caused by being dirty or feeling like your dirty even if you’ve recently showered, bathed, or washed off.

Possible causes, triggers, and risks:

      1) The cause/causes for this disorder are unknown however possible causes may include:

           - Neglect

           - Being without proper ways to clean/clean oneself fro extended periods of time

           - Low-self-esteem or poor mental health

           - Paranoia or a fear of germs

      2) You may be more at risk if you have another mental health disorder/syndrome such as Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, OCD, DPD, PTSD, etc. etc.

      3) Common triggers for an episode include but are not limited to; overwhelming / intense emotions, stressful and / or traumatic events, being away from running water / water / their DL, being unable to wash yourself, etc.

      4) Some of the possible risks that come with EpWD[D] is:

            -  Becoming overly dependent on water/your DL and running the risk of it becoming an addiction.

            -  Being unable to function or get work done because of distress, stress, or discomfort surrounding feeling messy/unkempt  -OR- being unable to work or function because you’re too caught up cleaning yourself and surroundings. 

            -  A disconnection in relationships as they don’t/wouldn’t understand and/or feeling too stress/distressed/uncomfortable to make strong bonds and connections

This term can be used by anyone // we have no DNI so neither do our coins // please follow your own DNI

As long as you use this term in good faith [genuinely, not as a joke or troll] we will have no problems as it is not our place to tell you what to do.

if this term or something similar has been coined prior to this consider it a recoin / redesign as we often do not know or realize

[thecameronchronicles]

Undercover

TW: Extremely Dom!Rafe. Smut. Language. Coercive behaviors. Degrading language. Bondage. Mentions of drugs. Use of drugs. Choking kink. Good girl kink. Slapping. Gun play. 

SUMMARY: You are undercover to bust the drug ring within the higher class of the Outer Banks, unaware that Rafe is on to you, and means to make you pay…

WORD COUNT: 4200

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Undercover

Your eyes narrowed to him from over the rim of your chosen mocktail, a guise of drinking among the masses to keep from blowing your own cover. All to study him and wait for the perfect moment you would offer yourself in order to ‘strike’. A subtle obliteration he wouldn’t understand until he was left in the debris of what you intended. But even as your eyes surveyed him, you couldn’t deny the way he was a pleasing subject to look at. The effects of his chosen vices having yet to touch his youthful looks as you bit the edge of your cup in thinking of differed circumstances would make him a target as a one night stand. 

But you had a job to do. And you were not one to allow your hormones to get in the way. And yet, you’d never met someone quite like Rafe Cameron before…

“One hit each and I’m expecting payment for more, it’s the good shit…come on, don’t be cheap or I’ll throw your ass to the pogues…” He caused the group to chuckle as you added yourself into the feigned humor to keep from drawing suspicion. But from the second you made yourself known, all eyes were suddenly peeled to you. Just as you had observed him, he had done to you. Shameless stripes made of his eyes, up and down your physique, as you’d worn something just enticing enough to give the appearance of confidence battling low self esteem and the need to quell your daddy issues. 

“Is this all you have?” You asked, the group suddenly silent as he pulled another two bags from his pockets, an impressive amount on hand for what was rather courageous considering you could have been anyone. A detective even…

“I was looking for a real party…You don’t even have enough to last an hour…” You shot, aware girls who threw themselves to his feet were what he’d be used to. Therefore flattery would get you nowhere. Or at least not where you wanted to be. For that, you journeyed to your feet before being pulled by his grasp. A quick and harsh grasp that was anything but compassionate. If anything, it was a threat of what could happen if you weren’t careful. 

“You got the cash?”

“You got the coke?” You shot back, throwing your hand back to your side as his jaw cocked. 

“Sort this out for me, yeah?” He asked a friend, leaving the other supply behind before following you. From a simple observation with his hand on your lower back, it would appear as a decent enough interaction. And yet the raging fire behind his eyes would validate it was anything but. 

“Through here…” He finally offered after taking you through the entire extent of the house. A beautiful plantation plagued with the recklessness of adolescence. Stains of carelessness worn into the walls as you crossed over the threshold of a private room with the door closing behind you. Once the door locked, your eyes flashed to him in concern. 

“Don’t want any interruptions now do we?”

“Where is it?” You asked, appearing as gluttonous as his eyes were for you. 

“In that closet. Top shelf.” You turned to open the doors, finding one to stick before forcing it open. On the very tips of your toes, you were able to see the racks he spoke of. Only they were only housing perfectly stacked shoe boxes and a handful of nicknacks of a lack of importance. 

“It’s not-” But as you turned to counter him, he was already at your back, pushing you against the closet door completely. The way he hovered over you nearly swallowed you whole as you had prepared yourself for this very thing. His reputation made it clear he was one quick to anger. Kook or Pogue, didn’t make a difference. Yes, you had accounted for everything. 

Except how your body would respond to him. 

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Before you could answer, he continued his apparently rhetorical question, “A pretty girl I would have noticed at any other party suddenly wants more coke than her ass can handle and you think I wouldn’t care? I wouldn’t find it suspicious-” But as his eyes washed over you in a display of clear lust and need, his head cocked as if doing so allowed him to gain a better view of what you offered gladly as eye candy.

“If you don’t have what I need, you could have just said so…Guess I was wrong…” You shot back, narrowing your eyes, before turning to leave. Only you weren’t allowed even a step before his arm projected before your face. A thick forearm roped in muscle acting as a starting point for the climb of your eyes to reach back to his blue irises darkened by desire. Carnal or chaotic was yet to be determined. 

“You were wrong…Thinking I wouldn’t notice what you’re trying to do…” He pushed you into the wood of the closet door, his knee rising between your legs to keep you from raising them to escape or angled against him in any way. 

“What are you doing?” You asked quickly as his fingers took hold of the silk you’d chosen to wear. A tight blouse that hung low as he ripped it directly down the center. His jaw set aside in disbelief but also pride in himself as he came upon the microphone set between your breasts. You swallowed hard. 

“Now what would you have this for?” He asked, playing coy. Before you could respond, his fingers dipped just far enough in your bra to trace the chilled skin beneath. 

“Think you can take me down? Then you’re going with me…” His second hand was in your panties before you could stop him. Your body quick to arch and your lips immediate in a separation as you rode into him. 

“Let them hear how good you are at your job, you little slut…If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was actually making you want to come…” Your lips came open to object, but he only forced those same digits into your mouth as he lowered the microphone to your thighs. Offering a look of warning, he brought his fingers back to your sex, caution left to the wind as you squelched to each piston. 

“Go ahead, the more you fight it, the harder you’re gonna come…” He lowered himself closer to your ear. “Don’t torture yourself. That’s my job.” With that,he withdrew his fingers. 

“This what you wanted?” You asked as he pulled the dime bag of cocaine from his back pocket. But as you expected him to bring it away, he used his fingers still slick with you, before dipping it into the container. 

“Mmm…” Your cheeks became hot. Too hot. 

Enough to remind you of what was at stake if you allowed yourself to remain. Rafe wasn’t some innocent bystander manipulated by those he trusted. He wasn’t in a situation in which his life was on the line if he attempted to do ‘the right thing’. He was just as responsible for the lives lost from drugs like this. And yet his presence was intoxicating enough that you understood why every warning against them could be easily ignored. 

Yet at the last moment in which temptation held you within its clutches, your eyes flashed to the door. Your feet set off before you could second guess yourself. 

“I’m not near done with you yet, baby…” He explained as he pushed you against the door just long enough to make this threat before pulling you by your hair until you were on the edge of the bed. 

“If you were any other girl, I would have you ass up on this bed until you screamed my name in pleasure…” He brought you closer to him until your lips teased him. 

“But you’re nothing but a liar and a slut who needs to be taught a lesson.” He tossed you onto the bed, moving to the bedside table and producing a gun. 

“Tell me why you’re really here.” You paused as he stood between your legs at the end of the bed. The cold nose of the pistol at the tip of your knee and descending between your thighs. Closer and closer to the pulsation he made from a mix of danger and anticipation. 

“I want to know what you know.”

“Enough. I know enough…” 

He leaned over you, threatening your panties to the side with the nose of the gun before using it at your lower lips. He pulled them apart as you trembled, truly uncertain of what he would do. And yet every nerve in your body was exhilarated by it. 

“So you know I’d hurt you and not think twice about leaving you somewhere nobody would ever find you…” You swallowed hard before he quickened the weapon. 

“But not until I have my fun first. Maybe showing me you’re worth keeping around.” He withdrew the weapon and replaced it with his cock as you moaned in approval. Your stomach twisted and tightened to the voices within your head reminding you how immoral and unjust this was. You spent years in an academy and within a job to ruin soulless individuals like the male Camerons. Ones that used intimidation and threats such as this very one to keep their role in society. And yet, the way his touch burned you from the outside in had been enough to ignore this reminder. 

“Knees." He spoke simply, as if a king demanded his subject. For the briefest of moments of silent rejection you watched his eyes shine with amusement. 

"If I have to ask again-" he interrupted himself. 

"Stand up." Your eyes flashed before he pulled you back up by your hair. 

"They got to hear enough…" He explained while tearing the microphone from your body, separating it from the pack at your back, and sending both to the floor in ruin. 

"Everything else you say and do will be for me." He traced the gun between your breasts, circling your nipples. He watched and basked in every flinch of your body, getting off on the fear behind your eyes more than the soft moans from your lips. 

"Take off what's left of your shirt." After a hesitation, you submitted to his order. Your fingers gingerly peeled the fabric freely from your arms until it fell to the floor. 

"Did I say to drop it on the floor?" He hesitated for a moment. 

"Pick. It. Up." You obeyed before watching him set the gun onto the bed. Of course with your training you could easily maneuvering against him. And yet, you simply didn't want to. Whatever he had in store, you wanted to endure. Curiosity and lust too strong to silence. 

"Can't have you trying anything stupid." He left knots right enough to cause the perfect bite into your skin. Just enough to be reminded of his dominance without the temptation to slip free. 

"Perfect…" he confessed, the only kindness he had shown so far. And the only kindness he would. 

You were pushed into your back until you collided with the mattress, the fabric tied to the headboard. Yet, you were positioned in such a way that allowed you to hang off the edge of the bed. And this was his intention. 

"Don't want to tell me? Then show me what good your mouth is before I put a bullet in it instead." He set himself into your upside down mouth, your eyes closing to the pressure at the back of your throat. 

"Fuck!" He breathed deeply no matter your fight. As your toes gripped onto the sheets beneath you and you reacted violently to the way he held you down with force, his fingers came to your clit. The angle was uncomfortable. The pain was excruciating between breathlessness and stretching. But that touch was enough to forgive everything. 

"Jesus, you're such a fucking slut for me, aren't you? Don't even have to try and you're willing to do anything to come…" He held himself in the back of your throat as you trembled beneath him, withdrawing ss stars set behind your eyes, and repeating this process in preparation. Not a moment of comfort. And it made you so fucking wet for him.

"If you only would have gotten on your knees when I asked, could've been better for you…" he scoffed to his own words before aligning himself into you from behind. 

"Now…you shut that pretty little mouth before I leave it bruised. And just maybe you can come…" He was inside of you before you could object, not that you could or wanted to. Your body a mere outlet for his tensions as you favored his brutality. Even as he buried your face to the sheets below, every battering made you moan out for him. Every smack to your ass sending you to sing in labored winces, before he finally pulled you against his chest. A single pull of your bonds allowed your hands my mobile enough to be taken by him but still bound at the wrist. 

"How many people have you arrested?" 

"Ah…" you moaned to his fingers at your clit, teasing and pulling before he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"That's an easy question…or you too fucked out already?" He smirked against your cheek. "You think that's bad…you aren't prepared for what's coming…" he abandoned you at his bed. His absence sent you to turn and face him, watching him return with his belt that was hanging on the closet door prior. 

"I've already made your ass the perfect shade of red, don't worry…" He paused. 

"This is for me…" he bound your thighs with the belt, forcing it together, before hiking your legs over his shoulder. 

"You can't stay fucking still…this should help…" he hovered over you, tightening the loop until it ate into your legs as his hand came to your neck. 

"Shame you don't have your cuffs, might have let you tie me up, God knows it's the only way you'd get me…" he teased. 

"Please…" you whimpered. 

"The big bad detective wouldn't be begging now would she? Your pussy that desperate for me?" You nodded, teeth tensed closed, as your eyes attempted to plead with him. 

"Then tell me why you're here…" 

"B-barry…" The name of your informant slipped from your lips. Whatever code of conduct was ashes to your feet. 

"Sold me out?" You gasped as he slowly thrusted into you. 

"But you should get a reward for telling me, don't you think?"

"Yes!" You begged as he smirked. One hand to your breast as he twisted your nipple. But as you found comfort in this, a cold sting came to your cheek. 

"Stop closing your eyes. You look at me and show me how grateful you are that I'm being nice or I'll have to go back to hurting you…Believe me…I prefer that much better…" 

You kept your eyes to him as you watched his face contort. Perfect pleasure as he pulled himself into an arch. 

"Jesus, you feel so fucking tight. Not what I expected for such a little whore…" He scoffed. 

"Come here-" he unlatched the belt around your thighs and brought it around your throat. In one grip he held the tail to the belt as well as the binds of your arms before retying the knots at your wrist. 

"You're gonna ride me until you make me come. Do it how I want and you can come on my face…"

Your eyes rolled as you worked for that reason. Every inhibition shattered and every warning ignored as he pulled you down onto him to initiate the beginning. 

"Work for it." He instructed again. Only as he had, you took complete dominance. Your body worked overtime to please him, not a moment of pause as you attempted to dry him out within you. You would have given nearly anything to have that power over him. Even if only for a moment. 

"You are desperate…shit!" He groaned as he pulled himself deeper. 

"Changed my mind…get up here…" he moved you to his face until your thighs framed him. 

"You do it quick or you don't get to come at all." His tongue and teeth worked in unison against you. A cruel hit on your hip, leading  you faster. But with each motion came your reaction. You were tired but desperate, washing over him in rushed bibs before he pinned you down and spread you wider with the same force. 

"Fucking come already!" He spat between suction as you moaned over him, your hands desperate to return the favor to him as he sent you in tremors. 

"Yes!" He growled, turning you as you shivered from the rush, eating you through that orgasm. Your hands remained pinned behind you as he pulled you harder into his tongue. 

"So fucking sweet…" he spoke while rising from your thighs. 

"Now it's the fun part…" he teased, hitting at your clit as you gasped beneath him. Quick slaps from a low height that worked with the same sensations a vibrator would have left against you. Overstimulation sending your thighs in a threat to close as he hit your breast. 

"Keep your fucking legs open."

"I can't!"

"Do I gotta stick my cock back in there to make you behave again?" 

You were tempted to rival him just to taste him again. To have dominance over him again. But he was too convicted to his own ambition.

"Dirty fucking girl…come on…" You weren't sure what he was asking for specifically. But your body seemed to answer that request as you came again. A wave too strong to silence as you shook beneath him. Your hips bucking as he kept you flat. 

"There…now you stay fucking still for me. You've got yours. Now it's my turn " he thrust sharply. Snaps made of selfish motions as you were nearly dissolved into the mattress. Every minor sensation intensified by the two orgasms he carefully curated to tease the third incoming. All for this moment. 

"If you come before me, you'll be fucking sorry…so greedy. You'll wait." He slapped your cheek as you arched. Your mind dizzy with how much you should loathe him. Yet, you felt you were in debt to him. For the orgasms. For the pleasure. Even for the pain…

God, the pain…

"Ahhh…"

"Turn around. I don't wanna see you come again. You've had your fair fucking share…" To this, he grunted and groaned, his cock refamiliarized with your dripping folds. 

"Ass up-'" He explained while pulling your hips high. 

"Yes…good girl." He used the back of his hand with the ring to leave a mark on your left cheek. 

"Isn't it better when you behave? Not so fucking hard either is it?"

"I wanna watch you ruin that pretty little manicure in my sheets-" he untied your hands and allowed them freely as you obeyed. Your nails gripped sharply into the sheets as you were rooted into the same fabric. Your body a mess as you were close to yet another unbuckling beneath him. 

"Don't fucking come!"

"Then slow down-" He pulled the belt around your throat until it tightened. You were set at his chest as he used the hold to both interrupt your breathing and remind you of your forgotten submission. 

"You don't tell me how to fuck you. Did you have to when you came the first two times, baby?" 

"No-" he answered for you. "Now,' He used his second hand at your clit again. Pain and pleasure battling once again as you fought to keep from coming undone for him. You didn't want to allow him a third. But the tightness around your throat only worsened your need. An unknown kink set alight as you trembled in front of him. 

"You're acting like a fucking virgin, coming so much…"

"You're…"

"Too good?" You nodded. 

"I know baby…so don't piss me off so I can give us what you both want…" he took turns between your clit and ass, fisting and contorting your breast in the final moments before he released the belt. 

"I wanna hear you scream. Make sure everyone on the other side of that little microphone hears you too-" he produced it from his side, having taken it when he left for the belt. 

"Bet every guy listening wants to come just hearing how wet you are for me…" he moved his lips to the microphone. 

"So…fucking…tight." He set the microphone to your joint hips. Every depraved sound is nicely memorized in the echo as you were lost to another pulsating orgasm. Only this one was painful as he continued to fuck you through it. 

"Hear that? Making her come again …don't fuck with me." He threw it away before turning you to face him. A grip to your jaw. 

"Think you can pull one over on me and get away with it?" 

"Answer me!" He slapped your face, pulling your hair to force you to view him withdrawing from you. 

"Oh, you like watching it? Then watch-" he pulled you higher. The sight made your eyes roll as you winced. 

"That sound right fucking there is better then when you come….does it hurt baby?" You nodded. 

"Good, should teach you your lesson…" he explained as you moaned beneath him. 

"Please .."

"I don't think you've learned it baby…" 

"I swear!"

"You just wanna coke again…"

You paused. Unable to deny it. 

"Battered little pussy is already crying. And you still want one more?" 

"Answer me!"

"Yes!" You shouted back.

 "Fuck me!" He rutted into you. Deep penetration too swift to comprehend before he became sloppy. His finish dripping from both of you as he withdrew. And yet, he remained convicted against you. 

"I'm not done." He pulled you between his naked thighs, your ankles pinned beneath his on the side of the bed while his fingers attached your sex. 

"We're not done until you squirt."

"It hurts." He slapped your cheek, softly, as if such a thing could exist. 

"Do you think it will feel any better if you try and stop me?! No…you're gonna squirt because it's gonna be so fucking hot…and you're gonna do it just for me…" He groaned into your ear. 

"So shut the hell up and fucking spray for me. I'll even make it easy…" he was vengeful to your pussy, pistoning fingers as you rose up to follow only to feel him withdrawal. 

"Ugh!"

"Yeah?"

"Yes! Fuck! Rafe!"

"I like when you scream my name baby…let's see if you still can when I make you come this time…" his fingers pistoned and then focused on your clit, denying you the pleasure of both sensations. 

"Please please please! Rafe!"

"You wanna be my good girl? Wanna make me proud?" 

"Yes…" he followed his hand as he scoffed. 

"All over my hand. Right now. I know you're desperate. There she is! Look at you! Yes…making such a fucking mess all over me…" Your body betrayed you completely as you chased that bitter high. His hold at your nipple and the other at your clit sendong your body to new heights in every sense as you squirted over the sheets before you. But in the middle of your high, he was inside you again. 

"I told you…I wasn't near done."

By the time he has been, your body was stretched and pulled well beyond limits. Your name spoken in ecstasy from his lips as it came off of hatred from your own. Cum staining every visible surface as you blushed to the scene left behind. 

"Now you're smart enough to know what would happen if you try to go against me, right baby?" His hand took hold of your breast. 

"No another night like this…and I think we both need it…" you paused, biting your bottom lip. 

"You want more?" 

You nodded. 

"Then meet me back here in an hour. I need to handle some business…and then that ass is mine…" he smacked your backside before leaving you alone in the room. 

You dove to the microphone when he left. 

"I'm earning his trust…I just need another minute…" You explained, hoping it was believable, tearing through this room before realizing he wouldn't store it somewhere so obvious. Instead, you moved throughout the party, careful not to be seen by him, until coming into an office. Having done so as he was in search of you, nursing another swollen erection as he climbed the steps to make you handle him.

Insatiable bastard. 

Not that you could judge as you were tempted to follow him. Willing to drop to your knees and do what was necessary for his fingers to end up back in you-

Focus!

"What…" Your eyes narrowed to the contents of the drawer you'd happened upon. One left open in a hurry. A pair of glasses set in place that were identifiable enough to know they didn't belong to Ward. But a missing person. 

Big John Routledge. Who went missing a year prior. 

Suddenly this was more than drugs. This was more than a small bust. And it gave you an excuse to return to Rafe and rectify a night of promised orgasms…

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