#what kind of shift is 5-11. what is this bullshit

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I have to wake up at 4am (five hours from now) and work a six hour shift. I'm going to get less hours of sleep than I work. And personally, I don't think anyone should have to work at 5am. I think that's cruel and unusual punishment. A person that normally wakes up at 11am (me) should not have to do a shift that ends at 11am.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Interference

(Chapter 14 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Smoker x Reader (referenced), Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced), Doflamingo x Crocodile (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: language, somnophilia, non con, drugged reader, toxic relationships, violence, physical abuse, references to suicide, substance abuse, breeding kink, addictive personality, reader trauma response, mommy issues, angst

Chapter Synopsis: One step forward with Doflamingo is often also ten steps back. Neither of you have yet to learn the other’s limits, and trust is still being broken and reformed repeatedly. As you endure your latest challenge, former flames from both your past and his make their own plans to intervene.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15

——————————

—————————— 

Smoker hated this clandestine bullshit. But it’s not like he could have slept now either. Those newspapers were still splayed on his desk with your pictures across them. Just candlelight flickering through the room as his ship lurched over waves in the dead of night.

He exhaled from his cigars in frustration, his eyes back on the clock on the wall. How many hours did this really take to rendezvous? He hadn’t even wanted to turn back for Marineford.

He could have been nearly to Dressrosa by now if he hadn’t let the other man convince him to do this. 

All so stupid as they’d had to dance around their real intentions over the phone regardless. The Fleet Admiral had reiterated over and over that everyone was just going to stand by and let this play out for now.

It didn’t make a lick of goddamn sense. What kind of dirt did that freak Doflamingo really have on those that held his leash atop the Red Line? Why could any pirate possibly have this much leeway?

But at last Smoker had heard the door knob moving as he’d straightened up in his chair. The door shifted in that hesitant way which already told him who it was.

Tashigi poked her head in, whispering more than even necessary. “He’s here, sir!”

“Then move and let him in.” Smoker grumbled back to her, already trying to somewhat look past her as he stood from his desk.

The rattle of a rusty bicycle chain was the next sound though as it was wheeled in. Ice crystals were still melting from the tire treads as Aokiji passed Tashigi to fully enter the captain’s office. And she shut the door to remain in the room behind him as well.

“How many sailors saw you?” Smoker asked already, watching the admiral lean that somewhat sea salt corroded bicycle against the wall.

“Not many. But your men are loyal aren’t they?” You told them this wasn’t their business didn’t you?” Aokiji answered, then standing back to his full height once he’d set his bike aside.

“I’d like to think so.” Smoker replied, yet his expression making it clear that he was ready to jump right into this. They’d wasted enough time. “So what do you know about all this, Kuzan?” 

The initial shock to the news about you still had yet to wear off. But plans needed intel, they needed background. And just from tone alone in their short snail conversations, he knew Aokiji had figured some things out.

The two men were close friends. But the trust they shared was one of those innate things. This relationship hadn’t taken years to cultivate. Very similar in fact to what Tashigi was now becoming for Smoker as well, regardless of her greenhorn status and much lower rank. Some marines just clicked.

Comrades he knew he could trust his life to. There was no point in wondering why.

“She made a deal with Doflamingo in Sabaody. That’s why he let those slaves go from the auction house.” The admiral said abruptly then. But still with the air of a man now letting something painful off of his chest that he’d been holding in for too long. “I think Scylla was his way of collecting on that deal.”

Tashigi’s eyes had widened simultaneous to Smoker’s narrowing. But this was just the very beginning of these revelations. Smoker sensed that too in the way Aokiji was scowling. A rare expression on his normally neutral face. 

These were things the admiral didn’t want to talk about. But they couldn’t help you if they didn’t understand. They all needed to know the full extent of this.

“I confronted Doflamingo on Sabaody too. And I confronted her at HQ.” Aokiji confessed in response to Smoker’s continued glare “They were both hiding more. But they…well she told me they’d been together already. Physically. This didn’t start on Scylla. Maybe it didn’t even start on Sabaody.”

The quiet gasp from Tashigi was still so filled with confusion. And Smoker felt that immediately too. Because that just couldn’t be right. 

But he was human as well. And that moment of surprise bled into more complex feelings as his cigars moved with his words back to Kuzan, as disgust and even a hint of betrayal began to take hold. “From when? From when I was dating her?”

He’d called you his girlfriend for a little over two years. All the way until that fight in Mariejois. The morning he’d finally cut you free. You were going to burn yourself out and he couldn’t help you understand why. It felt so much longer ago now though. But it hadn’t been. Not really. 

“She would never cheat on you.” Tashigi surprised them both with those sudden words. “She’s not like that.” 

But her eyes already looked upset. Though she was doing her best now to not let the waterworks out. 

“I hadn’t seen her for three months before Mariejois though.” Smoker admitted. He’d already known by then that it was over, but he’d been waiting for the chance to have that conversation with you in person. He had never wanted to hurt you. 

Obviously you still hadn’t taken it well. But to run into the arms of a pirate? And of all of the crooks out there, it to be that one? Tsuru’s literal enemy? No, Smoker wasn’t accepting this as anything that simple. You’d always been far more complicated. And he was not the only one to have contributed to it.

For two years he had done his best with you. But you’d been looking for something in him that wasn’t there too. He knew he hadn’t been your first choice. Second place was nice for a while of course, but it was still just the first loser in the end. And Smoker could now see that the man who had preceded him to set that unmatchable standard was still out there in the weeds obviously. Not even realizing what was right in front of him.

Kuzan still just didn’t get it.

Out of respect, Smoker had kept his mouth shut for the longest time on this as well. It hadn’t been his business. But now you were in trouble. Your actual life was likely on the line as just a bit of that anger finally escaped to the surface.

“Dammit, Kuzan! You say you made her confess…so you knew something was up when the rest of us didn’t? Then why didn’t you help her then!?”

And the way Kuzan’s eyes immediately widened in surprise didn’t suit his rank at all as Smoker kept on. He had been holding this in for far too long.

“You’d started talking to her again after I broke it off with her, right? I mean immediately, you two were getting friendly again weren’t you? You walked her out of the damned bar that night with her hanging all over you! Wasn’t it obvious to you then!?”

“The hell are you on about!?” And now Kuzan was snapping back at him, though still clearly confused. “She was drunk and trying to get over you! You’re the one that hurt her in Mariejois!”

“Me!?” And Smoker’s chest rose at that. Maybe this fully was that old stereotype of some men not being able to see the forest for the trees. Emotionally blind in these kinds of things. But Smoker could only be angrier at this man because they were friends. He held Kuzan to a higher standard than this.

“Tashigi!” Smoker called her name abruptly to her additional surprise though. “What did she tell you? That very first time me and her had a big fight and she’d only hang out with you in port all that week. Tell this dummy what she said, because I know he won’t believe me now!”

And she looked from one man to the other in a bit of escalating panic. “But she told me that in private!”

“Well you already told me! And it’s relevant now!” Smoker retorted.

“I only told you so that you’d understand what she was upset about! I was trying to help!”

And it hadn’t helped in the long run. Had it? Maybe it’d only made things worse. “Tell him, Tashigi!” Smoker ordered her this time.

Her lip was quivering, but there was a rare indignation to her expression then as well. As if suddenly she was angry at both men herself. 

“She told me that the only real partners she’d ever had were Aokiji-san and Smoker-san! But that…” And she closed her eyes briefly, as if apologizing to you internally before she blurted out this secret that was so personal. “She said that neither of you had ever told her that you loved her! That she kept trying to earn it…and she didn’t think she ever could!”

But Smoker gave her a harsh look still. Because this was almost the whole truth. There was the one other point that’d really been the final nail in the coffin of his own relationship with you. And Kuzan needed to hear it. “And?” Smoker made her keep on. “Tell him the other thing!”

Tashigi’s eyes were open again. She looked to her captain almost pleadingly. “I can’t…”

Smoker scowled. That girl was just too loyal for her own good sometimes. But fine, he’d say it then. Everything needed to be out in the open at last.

“(Y/N) told Tashigi that she kept wanting to find what she’d had before. What she felt with you, you dumbass! You were the only man that she was in love with!”

And it still hurt even as Smoker said it aloud that easily now. It hurt just like it had from the first time he’d known it was true. “I wasn’t you, Kuzan. She was never going to be happy with me. But you’re such an idiot, even when I let her go and put her right back in front of you…you let a pirate pick her up instead!?”

And the main point had still sailed right over Kuzan’s head. Even now, he was hanging on to concepts from several sentences prior as he snapped at Smoker. 

“Why the hell did you date her for two years if you didn’t even love her!?”

Obviously their ranks were off the table currently. These were just two men now at each other like petulant brothers as Smoker fired so immediately back. 

“Well I wasn’t going to say something I wasn’t ready to say! I knew she was still so hung up on you! I was trying to see if she would ever get past it…I knew she was waiting on that word! But if I’d said it, she would have thrown herself away for me and have wanted to get married! She’d probably have wanted kids!” 

Something Smoker could not allow when he knew you’d only been with him as your consolation prize. Your insane drive for accolades, for reaching the top of their ranks had only been ancillary in the end. You were filling that need for validation any way you could. He alone never could have satisfied you, and he wasn’t going to trap you with him. Even if he could have.

But the outburst that came from Kuzan then was something even Smoker didn’t expect. An entire new revelation to hit both he and Tashigi right over the head.

“And what would be so wrong with wanting a family!?” The admiral exclaimed. The hurt in his voice more than anyone could have thought.

Something even Kuzan wasn’t prepared for from himself as Smoker saw that briefly vulnerable look go through his friend’s eyes.

But Smoker was still angry. Beside himself really as all this truth only made everything all the more wasteful.

“You jackass! Why did you ever leave her when you both wanted the same things!?”

And Kuzan looked stunned. But not for long. Never for long as he tried to withdraw into those same old excuses. “Because I can’t protect her! I’d rather be alone always instead of see that nightmare ever play out again!”

“Goddamnit!” Smoker cursed, but just looking fully disgusted now. He wasn’t going to come to blows with his own friend, though he still wasn’t done yelling at him. He had never met someone so innately good, but so thickheaded all at one time. “Marines die every day, Kuzan! She’s a marine! It’s what we goddamn do! She knows that!”

And both of them took a heated breath, Smoker turning away though to go back to his desk as he grabbed one of the newspapers. He shook it in the other’s face. Like a wake up call. You were in danger either way.

You were in danger right now while they were here arguing like children. “We both fucked up, alright!?” Smoker admitted. “I care about her too! She’s a hell of a marine and she’s my friend. Just like you are!” He said to Kuzan. “But now she’s in trouble. So I’m going to Dressrosa! Either help me or get out of my way!”

“You can’t openly defy Sengoku!” The admiral groaned shortly after though, willing to finally leave those mistakes of the past on pause for the moment. To stop screaming at each other and casting blame. The discussion of what to do now was the only reason he’d come here to begin with. “This has to be done the right way.” Kuzan reiterated with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well then damned talk, Iceman. I’m listening.” Smoker exhaled. Every mission had to start somewhere. Every odyssey had to begin with a first sailing.

——————————— 

Doflamingo needed to get up. He couldn’t reschedule this morning’s meetings, no matter how badly he now wanted to. But the temptation to abandon all responsibility was only growing as his gaze lingered over your unresponsive form.

You were finally in his castle. Finally in his goddamn bed as he wanted nothing more than to put his body back over yours and order someone else to make all those phone calls for him today. 

Money was always coming and going in obscene amounts for him. But you were vulnerable right here, right now as he dug his fingernails back into your hips.

You wouldn’t be bothered by this. No matter how hard he pressed. Because he knew a blackout when he saw one. 

And this result hadn’t even been his full intention. You just hadn’t eaten enough last night after all the arguing had started. And those so called painkillers he’d ordered the doctor to give you were all the stronger on a near empty stomach. Their effects blurring well into the next day for you now.

He knew all about that too. These were actually one of his top selling drugs. Pills he’d purposefully fucked himself up on more than once after a bad day.

Because he couldn’t have nightmares when he barely knew his own name on those nights, could he? 

And you couldn’t feel anything now either as he glanced over his shoulder to that ornate clock in the corner of his bed chambers.

He really did have to go soon. But he’d already showered last night. There was still a little more time to indulge in this if he hurried. To indulge in you, before he did lean back down to close his mouth over one of your breasts.

He sucked that nipple so carefully though, wanting it to gradually harden for him.

Harden like he already was of course. His cock awake even before his brain had been. Morning wood between his legs, and messy blond hair against his scalp as the pillows had forced even those short little spikes in different directions now. 

He’d still have liked your fingers to be smoothing it back down against his head, either that or pulling it roughly as he started to suck your breast harder. His hips already beginning to move while his cock slid across your warm skin.

He was going to summon one of the island’s officials over to the palace by tomorrow at latest. You’d be forced to sign papers that would tie you to him for as long as you both drew breath. Documents to be sealed in the World Government’s records until the time would come to take this fully public.

Because there were strict legalities to be met whenever empires and bloodlines came under scrutiny. He knew the proper timeline must be adhered to. 

You had to be a wife before you could be a mother. All just semantics really. But these games were as old as the world itself. And he would not be outplayed in them.

His anticipation for these results was only worsening each additional day though. Burning in tandem to all of his lust as the words of last night still weighed so heavily in his mind.

He’d thought such emotions would never matter to him. He’d believed he’d just take and take regardless of your own thoughts or feelings.

But it had felt good. So very good as you’d looked him in the eyes and said you were falling for him. 

That these webs of his were working. That his efforts were not in vain.

Doflamingo’s hips were moving harder then, just useless practice in this moment. But feeling so right all the same. Precum was already smearing his tip as it rubbed across you.

He was pressing against your unsuspecting body that he knew his blood would soon be taking full root within. Because Caesar had never failed him yet. 

Whenever that concoction did arrive, Doflamingo would be putting it to immediate use.

And he did raise his head again in this daydreaming, watching your still closed eyes and your slightly parted lips. Your breathing so soft and steady beneath him.

Your life existing for him.

You looked so calm, so peaceful in this state. As if this drugged sleep really were a kindness he had bestowed on you.

But you would be cursing him soon. 

Whenever your clothes no longer fit the same. When you tired more easily, and hungered for strange things. When your feet hurt and your breasts grew swollen and tender.

Whether you begged or even cried for it to stop, he knew those changes would come. Because nature would not be overridden. You would be forming an entire new life inside yourself, and be made to endure every consequence that came along with it.

And how badly he longed to see that progression. How badly he longed to cause it.

Doflamingo groaned, feeling that tension already starting in his own abdomen as his hips pumped harder, beginning to fully dry hump you now.

Why did this particular idea fucking turn him on so badly? Thinking of you full of his seed, and made that much weaker for it, that much more dependent on him as that child grew.

But he’d always wanted to ruin you deep down. Because he’d wanted it all from day one, hadn’t he? He’d told his brother, he’d told Trebol, Diamante, Pica, and Vergo. All of them at one time or another.

I think I just met my first wife, boys.

He remembered joking.

How’d you like to be an uncle, Rosi?

He’d said that too with such incredible lust once, fully disgusting to Corazon when Doflamingo had already been drunk the night Trebol and Diamante had brought him your coat.

He remembered holding that bloodied fabric in one hand, and his brother’s spine in the other. Whispering that taunt in the younger Donquixote’s ear before shoving him away.

Corazon the snitch. Corazon the traitor. He’d probably run off to sit outside that very same night. Just as Doflamingo had retired to his room to pleasure himself against the torment of your scent still on that dirtied garment. 

Doflamingo had been fucking his own hand, wishing it was you while that chainsmoking coward had surely been sitting out in the dark with the other rats in the scrap piles. Probably with a hidden snail in all those black feathers, immediately calling daddy Sengoku to tattle about his older brother’s new urges.

But the old man still hadn’t done a damn thing to save you in the end. The marines hadn’t kept you away from him long enough. They didn’t understand how many years he could hold on to something like this.

Corazon had failed to make them understand. Corazon had failed you. 

And so Doflamingo laughed. Dark and deep as his hands moved back over your thighs to finally spread them.

He’d have what he wanted. Every morning, every evening, every day, week, month and year to come.

Because little Rosinante had failed to save his fellow marine. He’d failed his future sister-in-law with his selfishness and cowardice. And now…he’d even failed his future niece or nephew that he would never get the chance to know.

All by his own choices to turn against his only brother who had loved him. 

He had loved Corazon.

But only death could bring forgiveness.

Doflamingo smiled wide, just before he brought his hand back up, nearly against his mouth as he then spit into his own palm.

You may not feel this affection now, but he knew you would later today as he slicked his shaft, stroking his palm and that fresh saliva across the length of it.

He’d move you back to your own bed, carrying you through the passageway after he was done here. Baby 5 could check on you shortly after and encourage you to eat breakfast.

Food would sober you up. And if not, he knew where the antidote was.

He could have already given it to you as soon as he’d awoken, true. But where would have been the fun in that? This imagery was already so desirable, intoxicating even.

The queen of Dressrosa beneath him, fucked up on pills and currently dead to the world. And the king of Dressrosa fucked up on her, whoring himself like an animal just for another feel of his beloved’s flesh.

And he was grinning wildly now as he pressed himself through your waiting entrance and began to thrust inside. Harder and harder as he let out a moan, reveling in all of it as he got his morning fix between your thighs. He had no shame in his own choices at all. 

Because he was already an addict, your user and your abuser. Your best customer and soon to be husband and father to your child, unable to ever say no to this product that was you.

————————— 

“Hey! Hey wake up! Come on…rise and shine! Hello? Wake up!”

And something was shaking your shoulder.

A female voice was trying to draw you out over and over.

But you didn’t want to go to it. It still sounded far away and you were confused. The pain would be there if you woke up again. You knew at least that much and you weren’t ready.

Then something slapped your cheek.

Hard.

“Wake…up!”

And then again, to the other side of your face.

And again, back to the other side.

Your eyes finally fluttered. But those light stings of being struck were nothing in everything else that had already happened to you. In everything that was still going to happen. 

You ignored it.

You were staring at a foreign ceiling through half lidded eyes then instead. A blanket pulled tightly around you as everything suddenly got brighter. 

Rings were scraping along rods high above. Thick, velvety curtains were being pulled open to unleash the Dressrosan sun upon you.

Baby 5 was leaned over you as well, staring down intently as she stood beside your bed.

And when your eyes eventually met hers, she smiled so genuinely in relief. As if she hadn’t also been the one to just strike you multiple times. 

“Finally! You are alive! I’m so glad! The young master told me I’d probably have to do that! He gave me permission to! I was going to try water next, but that would have been a mess!”

“What…” Of course you had no clue what she was saying at first, just clutching that blanket around your body as a little more sense began to return to you slowly.

“He said you wouldn’t be feeling well, but that you must wake up and eat something if you were still in bed!” She still carried on with her words somewhat excitedly.

And you did somehow force yourself up to sitting at the mention of Doflamingo though. But still regretting it as you immediately felt dizzy.

Baby 5 wasn’t even the only one in the room either as you kept that blanket pulled up to your collar bones while you eventually realized the small crowd milling about.

It was maids. Some opening the curtains still, others setting up a new tray in your reach. Bringing more water, and more fresh food. But you were looking just further disoriented as you realized this was not the same room as the one you’d fallen asleep in.

This was “your” room again and “your” bed.

But the last thing you’d remembered was being curled up against Doflamingo in the darkness of his.

Had he moved you and left you when he awoke?

“Where…is he?” You managed, still watching everyone else so cautiously.

“The young master is on an important business call. Well, several of them. He said I was to report back to him on your condition.” Baby 5 answered dutifully, almost proud in this assignment. 

But for how happy she seemed to be, by contrast the other women were just skirting around her and refusing to even make eye contact with you. All like frightened, timid little animals before they hurried immediately back out of the room after completing their tasks. 

“So eat! Because that’s what he wanted!” Baby 5 insisted then, crossing her arms as she watched you. That suddenly stern look a bit ridiculous on a teenager’s face. 

But you felt like shit. Even if most of your body was still numb. And the last thing you wanted was to be forcing something down that would only be coming back up in a few minutes.

You always lost your appetite whenever you were really stressed though. Tsuru had had to get onto you about it more than once. Not that you ever remembered this many consecutive days of anxiety on her ship, even in wartime.

“If I eat, I’ll puke.” You said simply, head then lowering into your hand as you looked back to the mattress. This wasn’t a typical hangover either. And you knew you hadn’t even been drinking.

Doflamingo had only had them bring water last night, and that too must have been intentional. Because you’d probably be dead if you’d mixed in alcohol on top of this.

What the hell was really in those pills?

You just wanted to go back to sleep. You wanted to close your eyes and not open them again for ages.

“Hey, Baby 5!” Another voice butted in from the doorway though to have you glancing back up. A much younger voice sounding so very annoyed. “Where can I dump these stupid things?”

And Baby 5’s expression flipped instantly from stern to amazed as she gasped dramatically. “What are those!?” Her hands were on her cheeks. 

But all you saw was a moving bush of purple flowers. The pot they were planted in being carried with skinny legs and bright pink shoes beneath it.

“Giolla told me to put them in here. Some guy delivered them.” The boy huffed. “But I’m about to chunk them out of the window. I have better things to do. I’m not anybody’s room service!”

“They’re gorgeous, Dellinger! Don’t you dare throw them!” Baby 5 barked back at him just as quickly as if this was only her kid brother she was now admonishing.

“Then you take it! It’s making me itch!”

And she did, easily lifting the large flower pot away from the boy as he sneezed.

Even with the plant and its flowers moved away from him, he was then wiping his eyes in irritation. You realized the half fishman was definitely a little taller now than he used to be. No longer a toddler at least before he shot you a hateful look when he realized you were staring at him.

“What, you’ve never seen a fishman before!?” He copped an attitude to your perceived rudeness immediately. His teeth looking sharp now in an odd contrast to his still relatively short height. He couldn’t be more than eight or so now. And with far more mouth on him than restraint.

“Just thinking you’re at least a little bigger than the cannonballs you used to shoot at us.” You mumbled. You also wondered if it was still Giolla who picked out his clothes. The clashing colors were so bright and hard on your eyes. 

“Well we don’t need you here, just so you know!” He snapped back at you regardless before sticking out his tongue.

So mature.

And Baby 5 did roll her eyes, apparently briefly thinking the same. But she was still more worried about the flowers than anything else in this room now as she hurriedly sat them on a sideboard cabinet against the wall. You saw her rather excitedly pull a note from between the leaves when she realized it was there too.

But then there was her immediate disappointment once she’d actually read it. She left the note near the pot. “Boo…it’s just a thank you note from Alabasta!”

“Who’d you think they were from, dummy?” Dellinger fussed, already ignoring you again as he put a hand on one of his hips to look back at her.

“Well, the young master of course! That would have been so sweet!” She looked practically pouty.

“Ew, you’re pathetic! He would never. He’s way cooler than that!” The young boy retorted, now heading back for the door, sassily in his little pink flats actually.

“Romance is cool!” She stomped her foot.

“It isn’t! Go read more of your stupid magazines and keep dreaming, you ditz!”

“Why are you boys all so mean!?”

“Just to you!” And he stuck his tongue out from  between his sharp teeth again before darting into the hall, giggling all the way as a candelabra suddenly smashed in half against the doorframe.

You hadn’t even seen her grab it. And that was no small distance.

“Pretty good throw.” You said quietly into the new silence. Your shoulders still sunken though as you couldn’t find the energy to fully straighten up.

“A good throw would have hit him.” She answered, though still looking annoyed as she picked up the pieces. “I have to go now. Pica wanted me in town to help Gladius. But if you really won’t eat, I have to tell the young master that before I leave.”

“Tell him,” You huffed. “He’s the one that poisoned me like this anyway.”

Yes, the next time he tried to pressure you into taking anything, you were going to tell him where he could shove it.

But she only responded so cheerfully to that. “Oh, if the young master had wished to poison you, you’d already be dead!” Baby 5 smiled so sincerely with these words, while you just stared at her. Followed with a bubbly, “See you later!” 

And with a click of the distant bedroom door you were then alone again.

For a while you just stayed there too, fully ignoring the food tray as you’d told her you would. But also realizing how filthy you felt. Like you’d been sweating in these heavy blankets.

You knew what sometimes worked for you for more normal hangovers. A cold ass shower, even if it just meant sitting on the floor of said shower while the water rained over you.

You did want that now actually as you finally shoved the bedding away to find yourself still without a piece of clothing on. You swung your legs over the mattress edge regardless though and pressed your toes into that plush carpet to finally stand.

A feat by itself that was instantly precarious as your arms left your sides to steady your balance.

Simply walking to the bathroom shouldn’t have felt like tip toeing across a ship’s mooring ropes as you began to walk.

But it did, as you concentrated on just moving one foot after the other. And you were making decent progress across that large bedroom before a new, entirely disgusting sensation hit.

An almost glob like secretion of excess foreign material had slid out from between your legs. Your channel cleansing itself as gravity carried that fluid the rest of the way, wet and warm down your inner thigh. 

And maybe you were already just too worn, too starved, and too dehydrated as you stared down at that tell tale trail.

Semen.

And it was fresh.

Never in your life, not in all the late night binges or in any of the marine bar crawls, had you ever been wasted enough to not remember being fucked by someone.

And it didn’t matter in that moment what the truth really was. It was the fact that you couldn’t possibly know. It was the fact that the pills had stolen your ability to know.

Of course Doflamingo would do that to you if given the chance. Of course he probably had.

But how many others had had access to you in all the time you were unconscious? Anyone could have opened that door, anyone could have climbed over the top of you and…

Your stomach had turned and your knees were then on that beautiful stone tile as you’d reached the bathroom. Falling to them hard enough to leave more bruises before you were leaned over the open toilet, then puking directly into it.

Every bit of anything that’d been left inside of you came out. Until it was nothing but coughing and spit. Your diaphragm then still heaving against your will.

That burning of stomach acid went up into your throat and nose, bringing reflexive tears to your eyes.

You were so much stronger than this.

You knew that. But it didn’t seem to matter here.

Every time you thought things were getting better, they always got so immediately worse just to show you.

Doflamingo had told you only last night that he loved you. 

And Tsuru had warned you that he would never mean it. But did she know it was still the very first time any man had ever said it to you? Did she know how you’d waited your entire life just to hear it?

You were crying again. What you wanted and what you were actually receiving still two entirely different things.

But if you were ever given enough time to fully regather yourself, if the hits would ever stop coming one after another, surely you wouldn’t have been this pathetic. You wouldn’t have been this sensitive.

But even in all of that mental noise, even through your own humiliating tears, you still heard the ringing of your marine snail.

And it took you so long to get back out of the bathroom, first crawling, then somehow walking again. Like a thing only half alive as you’d tried to steady your breathing. You were still numb from the medicine and weak from the continued lack of food. Even in all of that, this person patiently waited for you.

The rings continued over and over until your hand was finally on the receiver.

“…Hell…hello?” You tried to speak.

————————— 

There was no guarantee who at all may answer this number now. And as such, he had been steeled for the worst. The worst of course potentially being the disgusting bird himself.

But when that uneven sounding female voice responded instead, Sir Crocodile actually paused. Because this did not sound like the headstrong marine officer he’d meticulously researched in just these last few days since your face had first met the newspapers. No, not at all.

“Good morning.” He greeted anyway. Knowing about which time it should be in Dressrosa currently. “And who do I now have the pleasure of speaking with?” The warlord questioned, calm but firm.

“Captain (Y/N).” And there was at least an attempt to sound stronger then. You were trying to hide yourself behind that mask of your rank and station. “Who is this?” You asked.

But he could hear the involuntary waver which was still there. That slight thickness like there was congestion that couldn’t be so quickly cleared. At least not in enough time for you to answer the phone.

This was a woman who’d just been caught in the act of crying.

Sir Crocodile’s fingers tapped reflexively on his desk all the way in Alabasta, a frown deepening across his face.

Doflamingo never wasted a moment did he? 

Everything that man ever touched ended up shattering as weak as glass before all was said and done. Even diamond wouldn’t have stood a chance from being eventually worn down.

“Well, Ms. Marine…it’s interesting to finally put a voice to those pictures, and to the stories. You’ve got quite a list of achievements already in such a young career. I did have a look at your government record of course.”

A brat from the North Blue, the same sea as Doflamingo. First recruited by none other than that old crone who the freak still fancied so entirely. That decades long relationship between Doflamingo and Vice Admiral Tsuru being one which Crocodile didn’t want or need a full history on. 

Because it’d always been obvious. Doflamingo either wanted someone to mother him or someone to fuck him, sometimes interchangeably. The monster didn’t seem to know the difference anymore.

So of course you were from Tsuru’s stable. And never mind the additional baggage of that making you and the bird something more akin to siblings.

Since even if Doflamingo’s relationship with your superior was viewed in the least sexual framing possible, if Doflamingo really saw Tsuru as only a mother figure, that would still make you essentially his younger sister when that woman had raised you as well.

An incestuous fucker is what he really was. Because either way you were somewhat of a proxy for that old woman in Crocodile’s mind. But there was no limit for Doflamingo. And the demon probably got off on every single layer of that debauchery as well.

These ideas only turned Crocodile’s stomach even further. Just like everything about that man always had.

Yet he exhaled, cigar smoke flowing as he knew there was also a time limit here. He had no doubt that they’d be listening in to your calls and would be intervening shortly.

“Well, you aren’t very talkative are you?” He spoke again in absence of anything quick from you. “But there’s no point in dancing around for the sake of further formalities though. It sounds as if you’re having a fully miserable time already. And I do pity you. Truly. But first of all, did you receive the flowers I sent?” 

And there was a hesitation on that other end then. As if you didn’t know whether to demand his identity right away or to let him continue on in the hopes of him soon revealing his true intent. “The purple flowers?” You asked.

“Yes.” He answered smoothly. So at least the courier had gotten all the way to the castle. Doflamingo must be busy. The bird would have known those flowers on sight to intercept them.

They were Crocodile’s favorite.

“Adenium obesum is their real name. Yet more colloquially known as desert rose here in Alabasta. Though those in particular are a purple variant cultivated only by human hands. Far more potent and quite rare.”

Obviously you didn’t care about the flowers. And perhaps a little bit of backbone was trying to reform now. “Uh huh…yeah. Who are-“

But he cut you off easily. “They’re highly poisonous as well. Not the exterior of course. The poison is in the sap. Coat a weapon with it, and you’ll find it quite useful. The chemical in it disrupts the rhythm of the target’s heart. Even in the smallest quantities.”

A preferred coating for his hook actually.

The resulting silence hung for a moment before he set his cigar down, still holding it carefully between his fingers. He was genuinely curious in your next move.

And this entire time he knew you had been listening to that hint of superiority in his voice, that edge that came from a lifetime of illicit takeovers and equal violence. You already knew he was no ambassador, no gutless politician simply calling on behalf of the Nefertari family.

That sailor’s tongue came out so suddenly though. Even if he could hear the pain still behind it. “I don’t have time for more fucking games, whoever you are. If you want to threaten me, then do it. Otherwise, fuck off. This is a marine line you’re blocking.”

And it was surprisingly amusing to him. He wondered what you really looked like as you finally bore a little of those fangs at him. The snails could only convey so much by way of expression. “My…is this the real you then? Aren’t you charming? I can only imagine the high brow conversations the two of you must have.”

He knew Doflamingo loved a good tongue lashing, in the right circumstances at least. That night from Scylla had been different though. Crocodile could practically hear that demon’s blood boiling over when they’d argued over the phone.

And was it really because of you? Did that delusional creature think you were something finally worth protecting?

When all Doflamingo was going to do was destroy you anyway. The futility in so much effort was laughable.

But again, it was back to business as Crocodile actually smirked, catching you with his words before you could hang up on him. 

“I don’t mean to be insulting, my dear. It’s just disheartening how much you misunderstand. Of course the poison isn’t a threat. It’s my gift to you. Use it now before they can break down the door. An honorable death at your own discretion. Before that monster can do it for you. Don’t give him the privilege.”

And whether by full intent or not, Crocodile’s voice did begin to change. He was letting you know that he knew. He knew exactly what this was and what you were enduring, because he had seen it all before you.

“It will get worse. He always gets worse. If it was only blood and bruises, I have no doubt that you’d last a good while. You’re combat trained. But it’s the mind, Ms. Marine. When that breaks, there’s no mend for that. No bandage or splint. You’ll wish for an exit as quick as this then. As painless as this. Simply break a branch and drink the sap. Or rub it into any wound I’m sure he’s already given you. No more, no less. Then you’ve won and he’s lost. You’ll suffer his particular brand of hell no longer.”

———————————

Baby 5 had let him know you were back to being a stubborn bitch and refusing to eat any breakfast. Though she hadn’t called you that. She was still naive enough to be hoping for a new friend really.

A potential relationship he’d expected and encouraged from the very first night of course. Because if you pitied her, she’d be another tool in his arsenal against you.

Currently though he was just irritated with you. You were going to be fully sick if you didn’t eat. What was left of those pills in your bloodstream should be hitting you with nausea, vertigo, and further weakness about now. 

You’d be dehydrated and light headed. He’d be pulling you off of the floor when he reentered your room most likely.

Though maybe this was a lesson you needed to learn. If he said to get up, if he said to eat, whatever he said for you to do, you were meant to do it.

He would go check on you after this call and deal out any correction in attitude as needed.

For the moment Doflamingo had been haggling with a newer client. Another king desperate for an additional arms shipment which would turn the tide in their island’s civil war. 

And the warlord knew when a customer was about to fold.

“I mean really, what’s the price of peace, your highness?” He’d been smirking so coldly. It was like music sometimes, hearing their resolve wither bit by bit on the other end of that snail. “Pay what I’m asking in full and I’ll cut two more days off the delivery time. Think what this war is costing you already. Every day, every hour as you lose more soldiers and more tax paying citizens. What happens when you don’t even have enough of them left to collect those heavenly tributes to Mariejois any longer?”

“Your current rate is still more than we can absorb. If the total principal could be lowered just a bit more, Joker, I believe we could find a way to make this lump payment.”

“But my ships can deliver more product to you as soon as early next week. In just that many days the tide could be turning permanently for you. Don’t you think that level of service is worth something?”

Almost. They were almost there. So Doflamingo wasn’t going to budge now. He knew when to keep the pressure on.

But with this final deal so tantalizingly close, that was the very same moment in which his office door had swung open. Surprising him as Pica’s broad frame came hurriedly through it. Though turning sideways to fit as he did.

Something was wrong.

He wouldn’t be interrupting if not. Pica was supposed to have gone into the city today with some of the others. 

But Doflamingo still didn’t want to put this call on hold. It’d taken weeks to get this customer’s back so fully to the wall. Including the effort of providing nearly free weapons to the war’s rebel leaders all the while. 

The rebels already would have been crushed if not. So Doflamingo had secretly backed them first, just long enough to create the opposing demand and get to the much deeper pockets of their king they were still trying to overthrow.

And those machinations were all about to bear fruit here.

Reluctantly, Doflamingo raised a hand at Pica. An instruction to remain silent even as the warlord’s own mind began filling with all matter of hypothetical problems his executive may be here to tell him.

He kept haggling with this other king all the while. But Doflamingo could see the urgency building in Pica’s eyes.

Yes, something was very wrong.

And his smirk was disappearing as he now felt forced to push for this sale’s closing faster than he knew he should.

“In all this back and forth, you’re just beginning to repeat yourself. I need that final agreement.” Doflamingo tried, unable to look away from Pica now. “Either I have our ships start loading tonight to head for your port or we cancel this shipment entirely. Nothing will be ready in time otherwise. Do we have a deal?”

“I…I believe I’ll need to consult the treasury again and get back to you in a few days if your price indeed remains firm. This amount would leave us too barren for all other needs.” 

Fuck. And that was the exact kind of delay that Doflamingo didn’t want. With Pica standing there trying to mouth something to him silently as well, distracting him simultaneously.

“I’ll take off five percent. That’s it. Consider it a one time discount.” Doflamingo was trying not to sound as irritated as he felt. Too harsh a hand would just scare this coward away.

“Eight percent.” That king still countered.

And godamn, how annoying. But even then, the account was still too good to walk away from. Doflamingo’s hand pulled into a fist anyway as the blood vessel in his forehead became visible.

He still could not understand what Pica was trying to say either.

“Fine. An eight percent discount if you pay immediately. Next shipment leaves tomorrow morning if the wire payment comes tonight.”

“Done. You’ll have your money before midnight, Joker.” And now the other sounded so confident all of the sudden, as if he’d actually bested the Heavenly Demon.

And that bit of new smugness made Doflamingo want nothing more than to put a burst of bullet string right between that king’s eyes.

“I better. And I have other calls to make.” Was all he said instead of putting the vermin back in his place. There wasn’t time.

“Yes, Joker. Thank-“

And Doflamingo hung up the snail hard, slamming the receiver before they could even finish that false cordiality. 

“Goddamnit what, Pica!?” He barked in the outburst he’d been containing all the while, already standing. Whatever this was had just cost him significantly. Even small percentages were heavy hits when talking about contracts worth more than the yearly GDP of some smaller islands.

And Pica did look properly flustered. But that high pitched voice did not falter.

“Doffy! Trebol and the marine got into a fight! Trebol’s hurt! She locked herself in her bathroom and says she’ll only speak to you. With the rule of blood…we didn’t want to press further…we-”

“They did what?” Doflamingo hissed, not staying to hear anything else when he’d already darted around Pica and back through his office door as instinct took hold. 

His strings could pull him down the corridors far faster than anyone could have ever run. A terrible sneer contorting his face as he went right over the heads of any soul unfortunate to be in his way on his journey through the palace.

He was nearly sliding into your room moments after. The door had already been open as he’d landed, black shoes meeting the carpet while he’d had to use his strings to stop again.

“Doffy!” Diamante said in relief. 

And Doflamingo could immediately see the hints of disaster. Parts of furniture were broken, small items strewn in every direction. Mucus was all over, and a fresh trail of blood was leading to a crouched Trebol on the ground.

Trebol’s voice sounded worse than even usual as his head immediately lifted at the sound of his master’s name.

“Do..Doffy!” He almost gurgled.

And Doflamingo stared. Blood was stained down Trebol’s face, down his chest too as his executive’s eyes were wide at him. The black glasses were missing. 

“Sh..she broke m…my no..nose…”

His fucking nose. Yes, it was crooked. That was where all the blood had come from. Blood and mucus as Doflamingo felt his fists clenching to the point of being painful now.

His own blood pressure was continuing to climb, his heart pounding. So angry that it was now making his skull feel like it was splitting.

Just the purest form of rage consuming him as he would ask them only one word for now.

“Why?” Doflamingo growled, jaw muscles tightening as his fingers began to rise.

He did see that bathroom door closed. The one you were supposedly hiding behind as he began to attach his strings to it.

He was going to rip it from its goddamn frame.

“She must be colluding with Crocodile!” Diamante spat. “Trebol heard them on the phone and entered first to stop whatever it was they were plotting against you! He tried only to restrain her to wait for you, and this is what she did to him!”

Crocodile!? That name exploded through his mind.

Doflamingo’s own eyes widened behind his sunglasses, like he’d been kicked straight in the chest himself. Even as he felt as if his anger was absolutely going to choke him by this point.

As if he couldn’t breathe any longer while his strings tightened further against that bathroom door.

“Bring…me. The. Recording.”

That was the last full words he could manage to them before he yanked his arm back.

The bathroom door exploded outward, wooden pieces pulled and sliced, raining down like paper and pulp as Doflamingo strode forward into that new opening.

His lips were pulled fully back, his hand up like a claw, ready to destroy anything you could possibly throw at him.

You fucking bitch.

He’d brought you here. He’d trusted you.

And you were Crocodile’s!? Was it all a setup!? 

The shower was running. He could see the trail of mucus leading to that opaque sliding glass door. 

Your body had carried it in here. And his fist pulled back, armament coating then covering all the way past his forearm before he shattered that thick glass in one hit.

It broke over you, shards sparkling into your hair, falling down your naked body as he saw your shoulders tense even further.

You were huddled in the farthest corner of the shower, on the ground with your back to him. You were trembling again.

Like he’d seen too many times now.

Too many times to care any longer.

And Doflamingo had stepped into that continuous spray of water, fully clothed as his fingers tightened into your hair, glass and all as he yanked you away from the wall.

He lifted you by that hair momentarily, just before he threw you back down. Hard enough against the pedestal sink on the other side of the bathroom that he heard the gasp as the air was knocked from your lungs.

He saw one of your hands go to your ribs. You were on the floor looking up at him. There was still that residue of mucus on your thighs. And on your breasts despite the water. You were unable to speak when you couldn’t catch your breath.

And as his foot came down to pin you there on your back against the tile, only then was he finally able to see the purple something clutched in your other hand.

You’d had it the entire time. And you now protected it in your grip as if it were some kind of talisman.

Your last hope against him.

And he knew exactly what it was. Something he’d seen multiple times before. The scent of those flowers the reptile so adored still burned into his memories. Purple flowers on a dark mahogany desk, their vase rattling as Doflamingo had spread his legs wide back then and let a man fuck him raw. A man he’d wanted to own so badly. One with a terrible facial scar and slicked back black hair. 

The man that had decided they were no longer compatible. That they never had been. 

The man that hated him.

Doflamingo also now saw the open cuts on your same hand as you clutched Crocodile’s favorite flower. Your skin you’d split from beating Trebol’s face in when you likely didn’t even have the remaining energy for proper armament.

The end of the stem had already been rinsed clean in the shower. But if you crushed all the rest now within your hand, the remaining sap would gush out to enter your wounds. 

That was exactly what the look in your eyes told him now, that you knew this as you clutched that flower.

On your back on the bathroom floor where he’d pinned you, his parasite ability unable to find easy purchase on your spine that was now tight against that tile.

All you’d have to do was tighten your fist. It’d happen before he could do another thing. There was no antidote for this one.

“(Y/N).” And he said it as that new fear cut straight through his rage. His teeth still bared, but his palms now beginning to sweat. The tension in his body was faltering.

“Don’t.” His mouth tried.

Because he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He couldn’t even fathom it.

Not like this. Not this soon.

“Doffy…” His own name was so soft from your lips in return. As if you could feel that shift. The sudden hole in his defense and that pull within his chest again while he stared down at the mess of you. You and that matching pain within your own eyes.

“Let go of it.” He still ordered you. “You can’t do this…”

You can’t do it to me. Was what that fear really meant.

———————————

He’d come in here ready to punish you by any means necessary. For a moment you had felt that. His full rage at any hint of betrayal, his need to hurt you for your daring to ever harm his family.

But he was reacting only to what he saw. Not what really was or had been. You’d already told the mystery caller to fuck off. It didn’t matter who they later said it was.

You didn’t care.

You had already endured so much in your short life, survived too much to ever just kill yourself here and now simply because some stranger told you to. Someone that evidently hated Doflamingo and couldn’t give two shits about what really became of you.

They’d done this on purpose, hadn’t they? They’d known something like this would come of it.

But you’d still been on that call, trying to figure out any of that then when Trebol had first burst into the bedroom.

You really didn’t think Trebol had heard everything either. But you were arguing with the man on the phone as suddenly the Donquixote executive was calling you a traitorous whore and mucus was flying at your naked body.

So of course you’d lost your damn mind then. Because he’d touched you again. It’d been everywhere. And even as worn down as you’d felt, when that mucus was then squeezing around your chest and running in between your legs, you’d still found some kind of emergency supply of haki as you’d finally snapped.

You’d fought that bastard like a wild animal, your injured leg be damned. You’d felt his nose crack and you’d gotten a hold of at least one of those flowers from that stupid plant as you’d escaped.

You’d screeched at them that you would fucking kill yourself and they’d have to answer to Doflamingo for it. Diamante had come in and Pica too in all those dramatics before you’d locked yourself in the bathroom. You’d said you’d only speak to their master and they could royally go fuck themselves.

But you’d still known what Doflamingo would do, even as you’d crawled into the shower. Even as you’d still been trying to get Trebol’s residue off of your body when you could no longer stand.

And when the bathroom door had exploded outward only minutes later, you could hear how taut the strings were in the air. You could hear how hard Doflamingo was already breathing as the shower glass had shattered next and he’d yanked you out and upward by your hair.

He’d thrown you so violently, it’d still knocked the wind out of you. You couldn’t speak before you were on your back with a long black shoe crushing down onto your sternum.

But then he saw that flower.

And you got to witness his realization of what it meant even through all that rage. He’d hesitated. Even for just a single moment as you’d realized that was your only chance to survive this.

He’d commanded you to let the flower go.

And you had swallowed, knowing that you had already tried fighting him. In Mariejois, in Sabaody, and even within intimate moments when he became too rough.

Even if you had been at full strength in this moment again, that path of tit for tat would only reach the same end every time.

You would hit him, and he’d hit you back twice as hard. The two of you could brawl until the entire castle came down around you. It would accomplish nothing.

It would prove nothing.

That was why you knew you had to take a different path this time. You had to at least try.

“Doflamingo…” You said his name again. You knew he was still listening. Because he hadn’t moved.

He was afraid to move.

“Let me up…please…and I will. I’ll let it go.” You promised through the pain.

You could barely breath with his foot still on your chest. He was suffocating you slowly, and you knew what you had to do.

But it still seemed like forever. Forever with your life in the balance as his intent wavered back and forth.

And then something happened.

His foot was off of your chest. And air flooded your lungs as he crouched down to grab you by the arm instead.

Maybe it just wasn’t yet your time. Maybe the anger was too much for him to even think clearly. Whatever the reason, it was a godsend for you at last as he was now within your reach.

And you wouldn’t waste the chance.

Doflamingo’s focus had still been on your hand. His strings waiting to remove that flower the very moment he could. But his movement to crouch down was simultaneous to the moment you sat up and you made your lips hit his. Even before he could parasite string you as your spine had cleared the ground.

That effort had used the remainder of your speed. And that opening was only there because a kiss was the very last thing he’d expect to be given in a fight like this.

At least Trebol’s remnants weren’t on your face. You could only taste Doflamingo then as you put everything you had into this final play.

You knew you had to mean it. It couldn’t be just any kiss, it had to come from your goddamn soul.

That was all you could think of with your eyes closed. How you would kiss a man if you were actually in love. How you would show them what love felt like when given away by you like this.

You had to prove that you were not a traitor. That you never could be.

You heard the sound in his throat that had started as true surprise. Even as you opened your hand to let that flower fall unbroken from it.

You’d never kissed him like this before. You’d never kissed anyone like this before. You knew that you hadn’t. Because you’d never been this desperate, never this afraid or exposed. 

And his confusion was palpable. Both of you then sitting on the bathroom floor amongst the shattered glass as you did finally pull away again.

Just enough to lay your head against his open shirt instead as you felt him breathing unevenly through it.

———————————

And Doflamingo had sat there stunned, even as his strings did remove that desert rose as soon as you had released it. He’d pulled the flower away immediately and cocooned it safely in string. He’d have the whole plant burned and crushed to ashes when this was done.

But he didn’t know what to do with you now. He didn’t know what was the truth and what was the lie. 

His arm had gone around your back reflexively. His fingers over a spine he could still either break or hold closer to further protect you.

“Doffy…we have the recording ready.” Pica’s voice came from the bedroom.

And Doflamingo was grateful. He’d almost forgotten already that there was more evidence. He wouldn’t have to make a decision like this fully on feelings alone.

“Get up.” He told you, not able to look at you now though even as he removed his feather coat from his shoulders and offered it to you.

It’d drag the ground a ridiculous amount with your contrasting heights. But a filthy coat was the least of his problems now. 

He knew you wouldn’t come back out unless your body was covered. But had his men seen all of you already? He didn’t know the exact timeline things had occurred.

“Sit on the bed. We’re going to settle this here and now.” He growled, his grip back on your now feather covered wrist as he mostly dragged you from the bathroom. You with his coat fully wrapped around yourself before he released you onto the mattress.

You made a sound at the continued rough handling, but you said nothing else.

Your eyes were back on his executives. And theirs were on him as the snail Pica had brought into the bedroom now began to play.

Doflamingo moved back away from you and stood to listen. Intentionally equidistant from Trebol and yourself in that moment, waiting on that more objective testimony. 

The new torment that was suddenly your voice and Sir Crocodile’s, as that conversation filled the room from the very beginning.

From the moment you’d first answered and their equipment began recording from downstairs.

———————————

You had to hear it all over. And it came across so painfully clear on that recording that you had been crying when you’d first answered the snail. 

Doflamingo’s head turned towards you right away at that, but you refused to look at him.

You got to hear the stranger talking over you on the phone next. More condescending and patronizing than even you had realized when it’d been happening in real time.

And then came the part where he’d told you to kill yourself. As if he was suddenly your only real friend, as if only he could understand the intensity of your suffering. He’d told you to end your own life before Doflamingo could do it for you. He promised you that was the only way this would ever end.

But you would bet all the beri in this castle that just after that was where Trebol had started to listen in. Because when the stranger began becoming frustrated with you, when you weren’t accepting this supposedly merciful escape he was offering you, he’d told you to poison Doflamingo instead. If you thought you were really so tough. Poison an evil man and do the whole world the favor then. 

Be the marine hero you were supposed to be.

Surely that is all Trebol had heard to come at you in the fury he had.

He may have already been making his way to your room, missing your emotional reaction which burst out from even that insinuation of assassination.

They’d said he was actually Sir Crocodile now. But even if you’d known that, your words wouldn’t have changed. 

You’d raged at that cruel voice, you’d called him a gutless, spineless, piece of utter shit. 

Yes, you were a marine. And you’d goddamn act like one. You might cut an enemy off at the knees if you had to. You might even hate them if they truly deserved it. But you’d do it to their face.

Not a knife to their back, or a poison in their favorite drink.

You would never do that.

And you told him as much. It wasn’t what he expected either. His true colors had just started to show. His temper flaring at your audacity, and what he called your self-righteous hypocrisy…but then even on the call Trebol’s voice could suddenly be heard as he’d forced his way in to interrupt you both.

Screaming at you for plotting against his master, for intending to kill Doflamingo as he’d come after you.

And your voice was breaking as you’d yelled at him in return. It barely even sounded like you at all. You knew that must have been when he’d gotten a real hold on you.

“Don’t you fucking touch me! Not ever again!”

And there were the sounds of more things crashing throughout the room, Trebol’s grunts and gasps as he struggled with you.

And then nothing as the line went dead.

You looked at no one as the recording stopped. 

You were silent.

They all were.

All you’d goddamn done was answer your own fucking phone when it had rang. Every cruel thing the man had said to you you’d rebuffed. You didn’t even know him. And then Trebol had been all over you anyway.

Diamante and Pica had heard his resulting calls for help over their mini snails and joined in. Diamante had stayed with Trebol while Pica had run to go get Doflamingo.

All the while you’d been crawling into the shower with that flower in your hand. An exit you didn’t want to ever take as you tried to remove Trebol from your body.

But you still would have used that poison on yourself if you’d had to. If Doflamingo had been too consumed to do anything but beat you to death. You knew he’d believe the three of them over one of you.

It could have been the end.

It still might be. 

Depending whether or not he now believed what he’d just heard. Or if he’d think it all still some grand scheme. And you an actress just playing a role to ensnare him. The kind of nightmare pirates might put one another through.

But you weren’t a pirate.

And your head lifted slightly as you saw new movement.

Their master was now back in front of you. Fingers under your chin as he lifted it further. So that your wary eyes were then looking up into those crimson lenses.

And his jaw was still tense, his smile non existent.

“We’ve done you a brutal disservice.” Those strange words came so solemnly from his mouth.

And then he let you go again. His head turned to look at his executives. He was standing at his full height.

You’d never seen those three look this nervous before. Not at their own master.

But his stillness was terrifying. You realized that as he didn’t even seem to be breathing while he considered them.

“From now on, no one touches her. She’s my responsibility alone. She answers to me alone.”

And they all bowed their heads immediately, they were on their fucking knees in front of him at that tone.

“Yes, Doffy.”

It was complete and utter submission. The only thing they must have known could sate him then.

And he still waited. Making them stay on their knees like that. 

It was a punishment, a warning in its own very clear way before he did finally inhale again.

And you saw when they visibly relaxed too as he did. Doflamingo had made his point and his hand just rose to begin generating strings again from his fingertips.

The same trick from Scylla as you saw a duplicate of him now taking shape from the floor up.

“I’m taking her back to my room.” He announced to them, still sounding cold but not as completely tense as before. “I’ll make the rest of my calls today through the string man in my office. Go to him if you need me. And get someone to come clean up this fucking mess.”

And as the real Doflamingo stopped talking, the clone started. Voice identical and somehow emitting from it.

“Go get your nose fixed too, Trebol.” It said, frowning. 

You saw that look of real relief form on Trebol’s bloody face then. As if his master was being so kind to him now. 

And maybe he was by Doflamingo standards. He was washing his hands of this. They were all free to go. The clone only told Diamante to take that plant and destroy it as well.

“You’re coming with me.” The real man said back above you though as you glanced up. He was picking you up again, right off of the bed and back into his arms, pink feathers and all with his coat still around you like a robe.

All while his clone moved independently, hands in its fake pockets then, leaving the room via the main door back to the palace hallways with the executives.

But you were being carried to that same hidden passage again which connected your two rooms. By the time he spoke to you again, he didn’t sound emotionless anymore. He sounded tired.

The others were gone. They couldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.” He said it so abruptly, you almost didn’t register it. Followed with, “And don’t ever get fucking used to me saying that.”

You stared up at him in astonishment as he moved you through that dark passageway.

Back to his chambers, back to his full protection.

And you felt his hands tighten on you slightly, once the passage was sealed and you were both alone within the king’s suite again. 

The curtains were all drawn shut, leaving it cooler and darker in here because of that. It felt like his den.

Like a sanctuary.

You were still in Doflamingo’s arms as his face pressed down against your neck and he leaned his back against the wall. He breathed you in. Hesitating as if he didn’t want to let you go, like he was delaying it in any way he could.

But eventually he’d lifted his head again to look down at you. 

“Move my glasses out of the way,” he told you then. Both of his arms already occupied in holding you to him.

A request that was easier said than done when you had to fish your hand out of the feathers that were still wrapped around you like an oversized blanket.

But you did eventually manage it. Gently reaching up to touch those somewhat famous frames. And when he didn’t resist, you lifted them all the way up to set them on top of his  head.

He stared at you for a long moment after, his good eye sharply focused, searching within your own eyes really.

Looking for something before he spoke again.

“You’re lucky I know him well enough to tell when he was being genuine. That really was your first introduction to one another…and he misjudged you completely.”

“I don’t roll over easily.” You said flatly.

“I know.” Was all he answered at first though.

And he leaned in to steal your lips briefly then, covering them with his own. But it was different. It was soft.

It felt like that very intentional kiss you’d given him earlier, or at least his best imitation of it.

And when he was done, he still left his face close as well, warm against yours. His next words were quieter, only for the privacy of this moment. 

“In that year you were with Kuzan…I tried to go after Crocodile. I tried with everything I had. I know people still talk about it. But they have no idea. It was…like a fucking war. But I wanted it. I wanted it so badly.”

And it was that stranger smile of his that followed. The one that looked painful. The one that nearly looked wounded. “But he cut me off all at once one day. He told me I was worthless…and he’s insisted on trying to remind me of that ever since.”

And the actual regret in Doflamingo’s tone was surprisingly real, as was the anger that rose to cover it. 

“But their losses become our victories. Don’t they?” He sneered. 

And you felt his fingertips, starting to hurt you again even through the coat. His grip becoming that severe. 

“None of them understand what they’ve created in bringing you and I fully together now.” He murmured against your skin. His lips still drawn back enough for you to feel his teeth. “We’ll outlast whatever their envy tries to throw at us next. As long as you stay loyal to me…then you have my protection. You have my love until the very end, woman.”

And it was another ultimatum without question. To the end…an end he could either cause tomorrow or twenty years from now.

Because it was up to him. No one else. Everything was still about him.

“I understand.” You said without argument though. Because he wasn’t asking anyway. He was telling you how this was going to be. 

He was promising this to you.

You would still resist. You both knew it. You would test the boundaries again and again, flapping your own wings against this shrinking cage soon enough.

But he still liked that too didn’t he? Because a little bird who said nothing, did nothing, and would only lay listless at the bottom of its enclosure at all times wouldn’t be worth having.

So you could thrash and fight, even bite him occasionally if he handled you too roughly. 

But you could never truly leave. You could never sing your song for another. You had to be his.

Only his.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[finest-galaxy]

Bullet With Butterfly Wings

The full playlist for this story can be found below:

1. Bullet With Butterfly Wings- Smashing Pumpkins

2. Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down

3. Scotty Doesn't Know- Lustra

4. Basket Case- Green Day

5. How the World Works- Bo Burnham

6. Crazy Bitch- Buckcherry

7. Killer Queen- Queen

8. Heart Shaped Box- Nirvana

9. Howlin' for You- The Black Keys

Be kind ya'll. This is the first fic I've written in fifteen years. Also, sorry the formatting is shit. I'm a computer illiterate Millennial.

The bird hadn’t answered his phone in four fucking days.

Not that Blitzo cared or anything. The stupid bird could do what he liked. No skin off his ass.

Only...he always answered Blitz’s texts. And he’d sent some quality horny memes. It was still a couple weeks out from the next full moon, but it never hurt to do a little pregaming. Plus, he knew Stolas would find them funny. This time, though, he hadn’t even sent so much as a “haha” or a fucking thumbs up.

The imp tapped his fingers against his bulky phone case, frowning. It was probably fine. He was probably just off on some royal bullshit, but it was still a little worrisome. The last time they’d seen each other, the avian horndog had seemed a bit more run down than usual. The sex had still been eventful, and he’d seemed to enjoy it, but it did seem like something was off. He hadn’t pushed and no details had been offered up. Now that he thought about it, Stolas hadn’t really talked much at all. Normally, he didn’t shut his beak the entire time Blitz was there.

“Fuck.”

Blitz: (10:41pm) Brd, answer ur phone.

Blitz: (10:47pm) Asshole. Just say if Via iz ther

Stolas: (10:55pm) No.

Blitz: (10:56pm) Gud. Be out side in 20

Stolas: (10:56pm) I’m not in the mood, Blitz. I would prefer to be alone. Thank you for offering, though.

Blitz: (11:06pm) 2 bad. 10 mins

___________________________________________________________________________________

Stolas pulled his sweater tighter around himself. He was perched on the bottom step of the palace, waiting to kindly tell Blitz to go back home. He’d had a truly awful few days, and for once he wasn’t feeling up to whatever sexual experience the imp was planning. Stella had spent most of the week silently stalking around the palace, setting his nerves on end. His awful brother in law had joined her for hours on end, and it had felt like the two of them were plotting something awful. It was probably nothing, but it had ensured that this week hadn’t held a moment of peace for him. He had barely slept and was beginning to feel the exhaustion settle deep into his bones.

He glanced up to see the IMP van screeching into the driveway. Blitz rolled down the drivers side window and leaned out.

“Hey, birdie.”

The owl raised an eyebrow at the smaller man, but remained on the steps. “Blitzy, I’m sorry you’ve driven all this way, but I’m—”

Blitz held up a hand to stop him. “Nah, we’re not doing excuses. Come on.”

Well, that was rude. Stolas frowned. “But, I’m not in the mood for physical contact with anyone tonight. I’m sorry.” He rose and turned to start back up the stairs.

“Bitch, I didn’t come here to get laid. Get in the damn car. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” Stolas turned his head to glance back at the van. Blitz lifted both of his hands in a mock surrender. “No touching. This won’t take long.”

The bird sighed, deeply, and trotted down the stairs. He climbed into the passenger seat and shifted into the closest he would come to a comfortable position. “There. I’m in the damn car. What are we doing?”

Blitz didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted the car into drive and slowly pulled out onto the highway. He pointed to two large styrofoam cups resting in the dash. “The one on the right’s for you. It’s shitty coffee, but it’s coffee and it’s hot. Figured your princess ass could use a pick me up.”

Stolas took a sip of the very acidic coffee, sneaking a glance over at the driver. “Blitz, what are we doing?”

After a few moments of silence, Blitz cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say. You didn’t answer your phone. That’s not like you.” He checked his mirrors. “So, whatever the fuck is goin’ on, it must be bad. So, I’m here to help.”

“Well, Blitz, that’s very kind, but I’m not sure this is something that can be helped. It’s complicated and messy and something I need to work out on my own.”

“I’m not here to talk feelings or any of that bullshit, Stolas. I’m here to...I’ve been having a shit week myself, okay? And when I have a shitty day, I have a kind of ritual that helps me feel better. So, I’m going to perform my ritual. And you’re here for the ride. Maybe you’ll hate it, and maybe it’ll make you feel worse. But maybe it’ll help you like it helps me.” The imp’s shoulders had risen as he spoke, almost like he was building a line of defense as he released that small bit of personal information.

“Okay.” Stolas agreed quietly. “How do we perform this ritual?”

Blitz waved him off. “It’s not, like, anything you need to do. When I feel like shit, I go buy a big ass coffee, I gas up the van, and I drive around and listen to music. I’m not putting on any of your fancy fussy bullshit. I’m makin’ myself feel better and you’re just here for the ride. Also, and most important, if you try to talk to me about anything you see or hear in this van tonight, I’m not comin’ over on the next full moon. I don’t do feelings and I don’t do talking. I’m just tryin’ to help. Got it?”

Stolas felt a flood of excitement, despite his foul mood. “Got it.”

The smaller man nodded and reached out to press a few buttons on the radio. A lone male voice echoed around the cabin, followed by a loud, percussive riff.

“The world is a vampire,

Sent to drain.

Secret destroyers,

Hold you up to the flames.”

Blitz bobbed his head gently to the music. Stolas, wary of the warning he’d been given, didn’t watch him directly. He faced forward but continued watching out of the corner of his eye.

Stolas jumped in his seat when he heard Blitz’s voice join the singer’s.

“Despite all my rage,

I am still just a rat in a cage.”

The owl could no longer look forward. His jaw dropped and he turned to stare at the imp.

“Someone will say—Stolas, you’re gonna lose the full moon,

Despite all my rage,

I am still just a rat in a cage.”

The bird’s head snapped forward. “Sorry!”

The song continued to play, but Blitz did not resume his singing. They drove in companionable silence through the next few pieces, each one sounding very similar to the last. The lyrics didn’t seem to focus on any one subject. One song seemed to be singing about a superhero, and the next seemed to be about someone named Scotty.

Blitz was the first to break the silence when the fourth song began. “Oh, Stols. It’s a song for you!” He cackled. A driving guitar screeched across the radio. He winked at the bird, letting him know it wasn’t an insult.

“Do you have the time,

To listen to me whine?”

Stolas rolled his eyes. “Cute, Blitzy.”

Blitz’s response was to roll down the windows and turn up the volume. Wind whipped through the van, ruffling the bird’s feathers. He sang along obnoxiously, occasionally sneaking glances at his passenger. Fuck, he hoped this worked. Otherwise he was making a gigantic ass out of himself for absolutely no reason.

Actually, maybe making an ass out of himself is exactly what he needed to do. He hadn’t gotten a single laugh out of him yet, and if he was being honest, it was bothering him. Fuck it.

He turned down the volume. “Okay, not your song after all. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll switch it up.” He poked a few more buttons and an old favorite of his began to play. It was silly, and stupid, but full of big words that the bird would probably like. He waited until the opening had finished playing, choosing exactly when he would join in.

He took a deep breath.

“The simple narrative taught in every history class,

Is demonstrably false,

And pedagogically classist.”

Stolas couldn’t help himself. He blinked a few times and turned to watch Blitz. The imp had his arm out the window, drifting his hand through the wind. There was a slight smile playing at his lips, like he knew a secret his passenger didn’t. He sang along easily, taking pleasure in the ridiculous lyrics.

Eventually, the song ended and the cabin was quiet again.

“More your speed, Princess?”

The owl chuckled. “I don’t know how much I liked the song, but I’ve never heard you use the word ‘demonstrably’ before.” He shifted in his seat to lean against the door, granting him a better view of Blitz. “Is this really what you do when you’re not feeling well?”

Blitz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, yeah. There’s usually nobody around. I can listen to my music as loud as I want to. I can drink my shitty coffee in peace. I can take the van to the right part of the country and drive as fast as I want. There’s somethin’ about having that level of control over somethin’ so big.” He patted the steering wheel gently.

“Oh, I see. It’s a control thing.” Stolas nodded. “I don’t have a lot that grants me that kind of control. It sounds lovely.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door.

“How the fuck?” You’re a fuckin’ prince. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Stolas hummed in agreement. “You’d think so, right? But, no. The closest I get to that is opening the occasional portal, but after the first few times it’s not quite so exciting. Ah, well. I’m thankful you’ve decided to kidnap me this evening. Even if your taste in music is abhorrent, it’s done a little for my mental health to get away from the palace for a little while.”

Blitz resumed his playlist, and they settled back into their silence.

A few songs later, Blitz abruptly silenced the radio and yanked the steering wheel. The van skidded to the side of the road, jolting the owl forward in his seat.

“Ow!” He yelped, rubbing his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Blitz shot him a devious grin. He pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed them to Stolas.

“Want a little control, pretty bird?”

[bitterwaters]

Lacquer Brands

so one day I went to a fugue and wrote a 2000 word essay on nail polish brands

We got four tiers of nail polish brands: overpriced luxury bullshit, drugstore, boutique, and indie. 

Overpriced Luxury Bullshit

Don’t buy these! Just don’t! You’re paying for name, not quality. Chanel charges $32 for an 11 ml creme, the second cheapest polish type there is. That’s ludicrous. Every review I’ve seen of a “high-brand” from a real swatcher has been negative. Fuck ‘em all.

Drugstore

This is every other mainstream brand, whether it’s from CVS, Walmart, or Ulta. Wide range of price and quality. In general, you’ll probably get what you pay for. Sally Hensen Insta-Dry is classic and Acceptably Okay; if you don’t have the patience for a full manicure, just slap some of that on. Look for brands that are 3-free or 5-free--that means that won’t have a few nasty chemicals. Anything over 5 is fake and doesn’t matter.

My preferred drugstore brands:

Zoya: Jellies, glitters, shimmers. Tends to have a very thin formula--leave the cap off for a few minutes to thicken it up.

Orly: Cremes! The absolute best, well-pigmented, buttery smooth cremes. Persistent Memory is my perfect dark red. The bottles are generously sized, they have a nice paddle brush, and I love the big rubberized cap. They’re just really pleasant!

OPI: I only use their matte top coat but I use a lot of it. It’s the best! Get their matte top coat! I’ve seen recs to use their polishes over Essie’s, but I’ve never tried either.

Boutique

Now we’re getting into the Good Shit. There’s a price jump here, but there’s also a huge jump in quality. These are small- to medium-sized online-only businesses with semi-industrial production and ample stock. They’re big enough to ship within a few days. They use a LOT more pigment and glitter than drugstore brands, and have far more variety in finishes.

You might see them on Amazon or Etsy--skip it and go order from their sites instead. Shipping costs the same and you can save up reward points.

Charmed Lacquer: Brand new, recently announced, will open in a week or two. Started by a streamer named Janixa. I’m not familiar, but her followers seem excited enough to check it out.

Cirque Colors: CONTROVERSY! I like Cirque. I have a ton of their polishes. A little pricey, but they have frequent small sales and are high-quality. Best known for the jellies and some really stunning magnetics like Mood Ring and Black Swan (which have since been rampantly duped). So why the controversy?

Mystery bags: idk people get het up about ‘em. I kind of feel like if you gamble on a bunch of polishes you don’t choose, you risk pruglies.

Coronation: This is a purple polish with a red-green shift shimmer pigment called, I shit you not, Unicorn Pee. UP was made unavailable for public sale years ago (the suspicion is that it’s now used in some currency). Cirque keeps finding stashes and re-releasing Coronation. There have been complaints that it’s not the same shade as the original, that it’s over-priced ($18.50 is a LOT for a polish), and the FOMO marketing. It always sells out fast. I have a bottle. It’s okay.

Jaritos: The current teapot tempest. Cirque just put out a Jarito-themed line of jellies that’s FOURTEEN FUCKIN FIFTY a bottle. Their regular jellies are two bucks less because JELLIES ARE CHEAP. They have less pigment than other finishes. Cirque has also been caught editing pics from swatchers. Some of the Jaritos shades are outright dupes of existing Cirque colors--but when Cirque reposted swatcher pics that compared them, they changed things to make them look different. Little shady!

I still got Mxcn Cola

Holo Taco: I don’t go to this school. It seems fine. Owned by a YouTuber with a pretty big following, Simply Nailogical. The brand has devoted followers, but I’ve never been real impressed. I feel like I can get everything they do somewhere else for a buck or two cheaper. Lots of limited-time bundles.

ILNP: MY LOVE! Shimmers, glitters, holos. Their formulas are just fantastic. If you follow lacquer reddits you’ll see a TON of posts featuring Flower Child and Fairy Dust; they aren’t for me but I see why people love them. They’re really good with shimmers--Flicker glows like a candle in a dark window. I also like their flakie toppers and magnetics. You really can’t go wrong with anything from ILNP. 

One of the rare lacquer companies that doesn’t do FOMO. They never remove anything from their line-up. New collections get a 10% discount for a week at release, and they have an annual Black Friday sale.

KBShimmer: They’re pretty good! They don’t get as much love as I think they deserve--probably because they aren’t quite as flashy and highly-marketed as other brands. They also aren’t as heavily pigmented/glittered. Still pretty good though! I really love All Fired Up. They have big 15 ml bottles for only $12, no matter what finish. KBShimmer is a great place to start if you’re just dipping your toe beyond drugstore brands. Pick up their polish thinner (suitable for every brand except Orly) and glitter smoothing top coat. 

Lights Lacquer: Don’t. They have some nice shades, though they tend to be as subdued as drugstore polishes. I was really disappointed by their cremes--the formula isn’t at all self-leveling. That’s just weird in this day and age. And then I found out that black swatchers refuse to work with them because the owner has been openly racist. Her non-apologies did not improve relations. Skip it.

Mooncat: CONTROVERSY! I have over a dozen Mooncat polishes and do love most of them, but it's getting harder to recommend the brand. They specialize in intense shimmer/glitter/holo/flakie/magnetics--all the fancy stuff. They have a few unique polishes that I haven’t seen duped elsewhere. Their formula can be gloopy, especially their flakies; easily fixed by a few drops of thinner. Why controversy?

they’re fukkin expensive bro. Like $15 a bottle. I do feel that you get what you pay for--it’s good stuff. I’ve never been disappointed by a Mooncat. But part of what you’re paying for is brand aesthetic.

they’re fukkin annoying bro. Their site, marketing, and even customer service emails are all lower-case dramatic gothy stuff. Never “nails,” always “claws.”

Their bottles keep shattering. This has happened occasionally in the past, then become more frequent starting in April. Seems like there was some supply change that thinned the glass. Mooncat was also filling about 14 ml instead of the promised 12 ml. Temperature and air pressure changes during shipping started to cause a lot of bottles to break. One person ended up in urgent care to get her hand stitched. Mooncat has promised to make changes and has been quick to refund/replace broken bottles, but there’s still a lot of ill-will simmering in the community. I think we’re past the tipping point--I’m no longer seeing broken bottle posts, just love for their new Power Puff Girls collab--but if you like something, I would wish list and wait another month. That should be enough time to make sure the bottles are safe and the weather has cooled.

Indies

Every single indie nail polish company is one or two people working out of their basement. That is not a joke. They hand-makes every small batch, fill the bottles, pack, and ship by themselves. That’s in addition to designing and testing polishes, and just living their lives. 

That means that if you order from an indie, expect to wait. Most list a turn-around time of up to a month (they usually say 7-21 business days--people read three weeks but it’s a month). That’s padded to give them safety--nearly all will ship within a week, maybe two. But if they get hit with life stuff or a ton of orders, it really can take a while. My longest order took over a month arrive. It was entirely worth it.

Indies tend to have a big focus on fancy finishes. The biggest trend right now is sheer lacquers that are loaded with aurora shimmer. They’re color-shifty and glowy, and a lot of fun. That’s starting to stagnate a bit--every base color/shimmer combination has been done, so a lot of dupes are emerging--but it’s also starting to evolve. I’m seeing more and more shimmers that also have holo, flakes, or reflective glitter. I’m betting we’ll get some thermal shimmers as fall rolls in and temperatures drop.

Indies have some phenomenal variety and creativity. They’re doing the coolest stuff with the most love. Many also rely heavily on FOMO, and some are just plain not open much of the time. Instead, they have monthly or seasonal release windows. They usually drop a new collection and may retire old ones.

How do you keep track? The Reddit Laquerists (sic) Nail Polish Release Calendar. You can also subscribe to brand newsletters--most give a small coupon on your first order. A lot are on Instagram and Facebook.

There are at least two dozen indie brands, and it’s hard to know where to start. I highly recommend Lyn B. Designs. I love her lacquers, absolutely flawless formula. She has big bottles, fast turn-around, and lots of variety. Get her top coat! It’s the best. But most importantly, she has a 50% off code for ALL products every time she launches a new collection. You can get top-quality lacquers for $6 each, and the big top coat refill for $12.50. No brand of any size can match that value. You can either follow her on Facebook for the code or check the calendar on launch day.

Others I like, in no particular order:

Bee’s Knees, Dam, Polished for Days, Great Lakes Lacquers for fantastic shimmers and reflectives. Garden Path and Rogue Lacquers have great flakies. Lurid Lacquer is pretty new, and she’s doing some really interesting things with intense shimmers and color-shifty chromes. Sassy Sauce keeps a small, tidy line-up, but it’s all quality and creative stuff. She’ll also have some nice thermals once October hits--she doesn’t ship them during summer, which I respect. 

Cupcake is kind of a workhorse brand like KBShimmer: nothing too spectacular, but everything is solid and reasonably priced. Likewise, Glisten & Glow isn't too exciting but IS cheap and high-quality. Emily de Molly is Just Good. Drunk Fairy has really nice jellies and cremes. Wildflower Lacquers is closed for rebranding, back 09/06; I don’t have any from her yet but I gotta give props for big bottles, a fan brush, and surviving in Oklahoma. 

Death Valley Nails is a little pricey but they’re doing the weirdest, most absolutely unique shit out there. They’re making polish out of rocks and wildflowers. One looks like the sink after your boyfriend shaves. It’s great.

Clionadh gets some hype but IMO they’re overpriced and overrated. They definitely up the saturation on swatch pics. I’m unimpressed by Femme Fatale’s formula and teeny 9 ml size. Shleee polishes don’t self level at all. Stella Chroma still sells Harry Potter themed polishes and I'm very over that.

But really, the best way to check out indie brands is…

Indie Preorders

There are two big indie collabs every month that work on a pre-order basis: Polish Pickup and Hella Handmade Creations. They open for a week each month and feature unique, one-time only products from a ton of indie brands. They can cause major FOMO. If you feel that might not be healthy for you, stay away! But if you’re okay with the possibility that you may never be able to replace a bottle you finish off, you’ll find some great stuff. They’re an excellent way to explore new brands, and creators get to be a little experimental. PPU has fun monthly themes; HHC doesn’t have a general theme, but many creators do a series of fandom-themed designed. Indie polish creators tend to be pretty nerdy.

If you want to try non-US brands, go to Color4Nails.They’re a stockist that carries several brands, drugstore, boutique, and indie. They also have monthly pre-orders for a few Brazilian brands like Phoenix Indie Polish and Penelope Luz. I find the Brazilian brands to be a little pricey, with smallish bottles and fairly thin consistency, but they’re doing some interesting stuff. I’m pretty consistently impressed with Phoenix; PL less so.

[domoz]

9, 11, and 16 for the ask game! Your choice of fic (or all of them for 16)

(Ask game) 9 - What is your favorite dialogue you’ve written so far?

If I'm restricting myself to just founders stuff (and lbr I dont remember enough about older stuff to be able to quote it off the top of my head) it's probably this bit from this oneshot because the lines are so cold (imo).

"If you want it to stop --" Says Butsuma, forcing Tobirama's face to turn the other direction and digging the kunai in to the other side, a perfect match to the first cut "-- Then stop me. Get strong enough to stop me." But Hashirama can't stand up. There's no sudden burst of strength -- he used that up ages ago. All he can manage is to drag himself a few inches forward through the dirt, fingers just able to reach where a spot of blood (his brother's blood!) has been flung to the ground. "Please." His voice is hoarse, "Please, I understand. Please stop." The look Butsuma levels at him is cold, a frown that says he doesn't believe him. He tilts up Tobirama's head, cuts a final slash into his chin, before letting go. Standing up, stepping back, uncaring of the way his son has dropped to the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut. "Guard your heart or grow strong enough to keep it safe, Hashirama. Those are your options."

11- What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic?

For Hand over Hand Over Hand, there is a bullet on my outline labeled "Hikaku's very long and sexy day" which I think about often, and is basically: Hikaku doing what he signed up for to the extreme, and going from Tobirama, to Madara, and back to Tobirama all in a row.

For another fic... the whole second arc of Trust in Reverse, which is a fic where Tobirama and Izuna were forced to marry, with the expectation that it would fail. The arc is all courtly drama and the two of them begrudgingly working together to figure out why it all happened in the first place (and learning to trust each other along the way :)) Not a scene exactly, but most of that fic is in the outline phase.

16 - Write the next 5 sentences and share. ...For every fic you say? (...I was gonna put a readmore here, but the text editor tumblr assigned me for this post wont allow it. So, sorry if this is annoying long)

Brothers in Bond

Before he could stew on that for too long, the door pulled open with a creak that was deafening in the relative silence of the room. Izuna scowled reflexively, unused to having to squint into the light -- not that it mattered. Whoever this was, they were wearing the same nondescript grey uniform and mask as the shinobi who had captured them in the first place. Two more, dressed the same, slipped in to flank door even as it was pulled closed and latched from the outside. The chain quietly scraped on the stone floor as Tobirama shifted his position to better study the new arrivals. Tight security, Izuna thought with a mental sigh, and shitty interrogation tactics.

Trust in Reverse

There is no greeting, but instead one handed gesture at the papers on the table. "Infrastructure plans." He explains, voice so flat that Izuna can't tell if he thinks if this is serious or all a ridiculous farce. "Utilities. We're inevitably going to have to share, since we're living so close, and moving forward without input from both sides is asking for trouble at this stage." No, he must think it's all bullshit if he's asking for Izuna's opinion on -- he glances down -- plumbing. He's not educated on sewer systems, aside from the one mission he'd taken to the capital that had required him to crawl through them for several hours. This is some kind of trap -- has to be.

Wood Tar, Charcoal, Ginger, and Honey

Tobirama doesn't show a hint of fear at a compound full of active sharingan tracking his movements, nor so much as react when he's searched for weapons. He easily hands over the pack of medical supplies he's brought, only raising an eyebrow at the challenging look that Hikaku gives him when a pack of senbon is pulled from an inside pocket. "You're free to have your own healers examine the contents, it all has medicinal use." He says evenly,the way he folds his arms betraying nothing but annoyance, "And I'm unlikely to need any of it right away." "Take it." Madara grunts with a wave of his hand, already gesturing for Tobirama to follow him. He doesn't have time for this, and Izuna certainly doesn't, either.

In the Corner of Another Room

Izuna can admit to enjoying a little luxury from time to time, but he's still a shinobi born and raised. He can pass as an air-brained nobleman when he has to, and even enjoy it, but excess still makes his skin crawl when he thinks about it too hard. The inn and onsen high up in the mountains is lovely, truly, but the price tag to stay there is most certainly not. Mission success will make this more than worth it, but his nagging guilt at the cost combined with the constant vigilance makes him unable to really sit back an enjoy it all. He could -- his mark isn't due to arrive for another few days, yet -- but Izuna was trained better than that.

Heart of Flowers

Madara slips into his office without knocking. It had taken him a while to figure it out, but Tobirama doesn't actually chew out everyone who comes in unannounced, just those who insisted on loudly interrupting his work. Madara would never pretend that he hadn't before, or that he never would again, but the village had helped him start to be patient in ways he'd never had to be before. He is, in fact, capable of not tearing out Tobirama's throat. These days he doesn't even want to, most of the time.

Fic Trio (Specifically, Ambitious Uses for Hands and Tongues)

His entire existence has whittled down to to the agonizing white-hot pulse of not-quite pain. At some point -- Izuna doesn't know when, he was already starting to lose time even when he was conscious -- the feeling spread, changing from something sharp into a full body prickly-numbness that made it impossible to think or to keep his eyes open. He'd always thought it'd be cold, but he feels warm, almost pleasantly so, except for the uncomfortable points of heat that are pressing into his side. Fingertips, he manages to dredge up after what might have been an age or might only have been moments. Who's touching me? And why doesn't it hurt?

Hand Over Hand Over Hand

He raps on the door anyway, and hefts the bottle he's brought along when it opens and Izuna appears in the crack, squinting meaningfully. He lights up at the sight of it -- it's umeshu, from the same brewer that Tajima used to buy from when he went into court; the cheaper stuff he drank himself, not the fancy gifts he presented the daimyo, and by extension, the stuff he hid under the floorboards that Izuna and Madara got drunk on for the first time. Madara got sick, Tajima forced him to train through it as punishment, and he's all but forbidden plum wine from the house ever since, but Hikaku knows Izuna still has a fondness for the stuff. He'd been planning to give it as a birthday gift, but he hadn't anticipated a need to apologize for all but supplanting Izuna from his previous life at the time, either. Nor did he think he'd be trying to learn about the man who was his rival and worst enemy.

What if Hashirama was Evil

Only when Madara's shadow falls across him does he look up, but his red eyes are glazed and uncomprehending, and his head lolls back to its awkward resting angle after only a moment, too tired or too uncaring to struggle. Madara looks him over more closely. He looks dirty and scuffed up like he's been in a fight, though all of the minor wounds have already stopped bleeding. He hasn't even been properly stripped of weapons, just stopped from moving by the wood wrapping his wrists together and his arms behind his back. Madara grimaces but kneels down and starts going through pockets. Much as he hates the idea of doing what's so obviously been planned for him to do, the fact of the matter is that he's got no information, and Tobirama almost certainly does.

[g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s]

1. The most likely explanation for the Mary Celeste is that a misreading of the volume/rate of water the ship was taking on (possibly caused by a sudden brief shift in pressure) scared the crew into a panicked evacuation in the missing lifeboat but the lifeboat drifted away and everyone died.

2. Jack the Ripper almost certainly existed and the important thing we know about him is fuck that guy what an asshole. Idc who he was I'm sick of mythologizing serial killers. He was some fucking guy. Some fuckin pussy ass bitch who went after victims he knew he would get away with killing.

3. The most likely explanation for the house burnings imo is that they were 1) A kind of weatherproofing 2) Allowed for recycling of the materials and 3) it was a spiritual animist belief in the need to cleanse the soul of the house

4. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. What WAS IT? GOOD QUESTION

5.ALSO GOOD QUESTION!

6. GOOD QUESTION. I think the most popular theory is that it was for spiritual/ritual purposes but I'd love to know what specifically

7. No idea. Good question but I don't care.

8. The prevailing theory seems to be that he was a guy named Eustache Dauger and he probably stole money. The mask seems to have just been some petty bullshit to fuck with him.

9. Probably in the general area of Somalia

10. Avalanche

11. Prevailing theory is woman on top, and some suggest it involves moving back and forth more than up and down.

12. What happened to the Neanderthals?

13. What occured between the Silent Twins (June and Jennifer Gibbons) that caused them to come to their morbid decision and how did Jennifer die?

[danglovely]

Regrading Taskmaster: S02 E03 A pistachio eclair.

*Score changes noted in parenthesis.

Prize Task: Best dinner party guest.

Doc correctly calls out Greg saying The Last Skeptic looks like a car thief as racist. Jon brings in Greg, but surprises him with it, which is not bringing him in. Katherine bringing in a family member is essentially a kid forgetting to do the assignment and grabbing what's closest. Richard brought in a dog . . . I'm very much not a dog person, but I acknowledge this is great for a lot of people. Joe brings in Britain's sixth strongest man, which is awesome.

Doc: 4 (+1) Joe: 5 (0) Jon: 1 (0) Katherine: 2 (-2) Richard: 3 (+1)

VT 01: Impress this mayor.

Wow, nobody liked doing this task. Jon was very correctly embarrassed about being able to do nothing and rightly received one point. Katherine's rap was pretty terrible and definitively worse than juggling. Joe maximized what a talentless person could do but probably still falls behind Doc, who is a talented singer and Richard, who can juggle.

Doc: 4 (+2) Joe: 3 (0) Jon: 1 (0) Katherine: 2 (-3) Richard: 5 (+1)

VT 02: Make the most unexpected silhouette on this screen.

Alex explains this task as what shadow is most different from the items that compose it, but when reading it out one can infer that it means the shadow that seems most impossible to achieve.

I like Doc's, but it seemed pretty easy to get to. Richard's had an animation aspect to it. Joe just kind of ignored the call of the task. Katherine was ambitious and achieved her vision somewhat (Greg is not wrong that "Simba" looks closer to a severed horse head). Alex described Jon's as "nearly beautiful," which is right. However, it's also the worst.

Doc: 3 (+2) Joe: 1 (-2) Jon: 2 (-3) Katherine: 4 (+2) Richard: 5 (+1)

Studio Task: Buy a gift for the Taskmaster.

Donating to charity in someone's name is universally a terrible gift. It's an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, so Richard deserves last. Joe goes for a non-sequitur in water skies. Jon got a cookbook which Greg correctly identifies as pointless. He would have been better off spending the whole amount on penny sweets. Doc recaptured a childhood game that Greg called "really great." Greg is so excited about being a lord that I really don't know how Richard wrestled five points out of him.

Doc: 4 (+1) Joe: 2 (0) Jon: 3 (+2) Katherine: 5 (+1) Richard: 1 (-4)

Team Task: Put on this blindfold. Put the earplugs in your ears and the ear protectors over the earplugs. You must remain within your bandstand. Do not read this out loud. Get a potato.

It's always a delight to see Josh Widdicombe. Joe actually did an amazing job of directing his team. It is inherently unfair to have a former champ on one team. Also, there is no instruction that only one team gets points. So, a point split is appropriate.

Doc: 2 (+2) Joe: 2 (+2) Jon: 3 (-2) Katherine: 2 (+2) Richard: 3 (-2)

Live Task: Throw the rabbits into your hat.

Ahh, the bullshit task. Katherine wins on this because nobody realized that each rabbit counted for an actual series point. Upon review, it isn't explained or implied. The task should be graded as most tasks normally are. As such . . .

Doc: 4 (-8) Joe: 4 (-8) Jon: 1 (-3) Katherine: 5 (-10) Richard: 2 (-5)

Final

Doc: 21 (0) Joe: 17 (-8) Jon: 11 (-6) Katherine: 20 (-10) Richard: 19 (-8)

A major score shift due to an unfair task; Doc rightfully should have had a win streak going.

[punkpandapatrixk]

'Surely, we were born into this world to be loved.' — everywhere by Sakamoto Maaya

Your being hard on yourself; your hating and blaming yourself; somebody else who didn't know how to love you taught you darkness. It's not your fault. Now it's time you let go of what they taught you. You don't have to associate anymore with their bullshit perception of reality. You must make the choice, though.

Let's stop being an enemy to ourselves.

[Back to Masterlist]

Pile 1 - Dragon with An Amnesia

King of Pentacles, 9 of Pentacles Rx

Priestess of Patience & Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

I'm sensing this group attracts strong-minded people who feel like they've done very bad things in life. You may have needed to engage in certain behaviours that are considered bad by society as part of your survival. Whether that survival entails material possessions or simply your sense of belonging to this world. The thing with this world is... good people sometimes do bad things just because they think it's the right thing to do so as not to cease being.

What I'm seeing here is you've come from very harsh backgrounds. Probably a masculine figure in your life is/was a bully and you watched how they behaved or dealt with issues in their uniquely bully ways as you were growing up. Subconsciously, your child mind took it that if you didn't toughen up, you'd be eaten by the world. Because the world is full of big bad hurtful wolves, you thought it necessary to become a dragon yourself.

But the reality of you is, you're not at all a selfish nor mean person. You're far from that. If only the world were kinder and more ideal, you'd be the most generously loving person on the Planet. You care about other people's wellbeing and wish to share a lot of your abundance with even the people who don't deserve you. But maybe that's the thing—stop sharing yourself with those who make you feel like you could never be enough.

If you would shift your focus and from now on work on only healing and providing for yourself (and also distance and eventually leave behind those who are hard on you), eventually enough a lot of your innate kindness and gentleness will resurface. It takes time to heal ourselves from the toxicity of the world we took as our own as part of survival, but it's gonna be so worth it because it'll bring you home to your true self.

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸goes Public 11 Nov

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 - Your Life Is not A Mistake

Queen of Pentacles Rx, 5 of Pentacles

Priestess of Intuition & Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

Exhaustion seems to be the name of the game. You have this immense feeling of lethargy and exhaustion that never seems to resolve. Do you know why or how this happens? Someone you look up to or expect to shower you with love and affection never fulfils their duty. There is either chaos or a pang of emptiness in your heart that constantly needs to be tended by you. So much of your mental energy is spent trying to fix this hole in your heart, but nothing seems to be working.

I think it's mostly because you grew up with a motherly figure who didn't know how to be a mother—in the real sense of that word. Whether this was a grandma or your actual birth mother or even your single-parent dad (gender and role don't matter here). At any rate, an adult figure who should've been your shelter failed, quite horribly, at doing their job. If anything, you've witnessed how even they failed at taking care of themselves. You may even have had to be their caretaker instead.

But you were just a child; what could you have known better? Still, you have carried a lot of burden with you, and so many habits that you still have now are accrued through years and years of survival. You may have been receiving insights lately, about how unhealthy—physically or mentally—you've lived practically your entire life. Your gut instinct is trying to tell you it's high time some things changed.

The very first thing to do is make peace with your childhood and how you've had to grow up. None of that was ever your fault, and know that you're not the only one going through such a thing. Millions of young adults in this generation are broken as a result of the failure of our previous generations. It sucks and it isn't okay, but accepting this is the first step towards the resolution of your unpeacefulness.

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸goes Public 11 Nov

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 - Channel for the Divine

7 of Cups Rx, 3 of Pentacles

Priestess of Integrity & Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

You seem like a person who's constantly torn between options. On the one hand, you're an imaginative dreamer with a rich inner landscape of mind. But on the other, you also have the analytical and practical aspects of your personality that urge you to making your dreams and visions a reality. The problem here... is that your dreams are not dreams that belong to the frequencies of this Earth plane...

Due to the high-frequency nature of your dreams and visions, they seem blatantly impossible to you and you often brush them off as mere dilly-dallying loiter. The more conscious, practical aspect of you wants to focus on the mundane—that which seems more realistic than abstract daydreams. But in doing so, you hurt yourself a lot. Because this is an act of rejection of the true divine nature of your being.

Let me give you this insight: the dreams you dream, the visions that bother you every so often, the urging that takes you back to the same daydreams again and again; they are a clear transmission from your Higher Self. Literally, your team of Guides showering you with directions and setting up signposts here and there. Within the inner landscape of what your mind's Eye sees. The more you follow these seemingly erratic promptings, the clearer your Life's direction becomes.

However, one sure thing about following these visions is your feeling like a fool. And you don't like being made to feel like a fool. After all, you are indeed an unusually extraordinarily intelligent person. Remember that your high levels of imagination and such a rich mind are attributes of the highly intelligent beings on this Planet. So now that you're clear about that, you should also be clear that none of your dreams and visions is silly, to say the least.

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸goes Public 11 Nov

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Feel free to support me on Patreon if you love this kind of content🍑I create stories and tarot readings that calm the mind & heal from within🍒

[Back to Masterlist]

[uvobreakmylegs]

The Sixth Floor Game

heavy inspiration from the Elevator Game, as well as the Three Kings Game and a little bit of Silent Hill 3

demon!Shalnark

Warnings: blood, death, kidnapping

The Sixth Floor Game is a ritual that will put you into contact with otherworldly forces and, if done correctly, can take you to a world that exists outside of our own. To play this game, you must follow all of the instructions that have been written below. Take care to remember all of them, as one mistake could result in death.

First you must enter a dark and empty building that has an elevator and only five floors in between the times of 3 and 4 AM. The only items you can bring with you are a fully charged cellphone, an item of sentimental value to you and an offering for the demon.

It is not recommended that you give an offering that bares any resemblance to that of a clown or magician.

When you enter the elevator, you need to ride it up to the 5th floor and leave the offering just outside the elevator doors and then head back down to the 3rd floor. When you reach the 3rd floor, you then need to exit the elevator and use your phone to call the last person in your call history. The game begins when you call that number.

When the line is picked up, you must say “I want to visit the 6th floor”.

Be warned that at this point you may hear strange noises on the other end, as calling the number at this time and place has put you in contact with a demon. It is possible to gauge whether the demon is happy with your offering or not based off the things he may say, if anything at all. Do not hang up on the demon; you will go back up the elevator when he hangs up on you.

There are three possibilities awaiting you when you go back to the 5th floor to see what has happened to your offering.

If the demon doesn't care for your offering but hasn't been upset by it, you will find it in the same place as you left it outside the elevator. You must then collect the offering, go back down to the first floor and leave the building.

If the demon has been offended by your offering, you will find the offering destroyed in some way. Leave the building immediately if you find this, as it means that the demon is angry with you and will try to kill you if you stay too long.

But if the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor. If this has happened, you must close the elevator doors and then hit the button for the 5th floor again. This time, instead of the doors opening again, the elevator will begin to move up, taking you to a 6th floor that shouldn't exist.

The amount of time it will take to reach the 6th floor varies from person to person, but it should not take longer than two minutes.

When you reach the 6th floor, you will find yourself in another world. Accounts of what this other world looks like also varies from person to person. Some have said that the floor they entered was run down and wrecked to pieces in some parts. Others have said that the floor didn't look any different from the other floors. Regardless of the state of the floor, the one thing that is consistent is a giant glowing red cross that can be seen if you look outside. You will see nothing else outside aside from the cross.

It is not recommended that you to try to open any windows or try to climb down the building.

You are free to explore this other world until you are ready to leave. It does not matter how long you stay in the other world. When you want to leave you must simply walk back to the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. It is possible that you may come across the offering that you left for the demon earlier while you explore.

Do not take the offering back; it now belongs to the demon.

Reality on the 6th floor can be distorted and you may find yourself becoming confused. If you find yourself entering into such a state, take out the sentimental item you brought and focus on it. It will keep you from losing yourself and allow you to continue as you explore the other world.

Above all else, while exploring the other world, you must never look behind you. Even though the demon may have liked your offering, he also likes trickery and will try to make you turn around to look at him by making noise or by speaking to you. If you look at the demon you will be unable to leave the 6th floor and he will keep you there forever as he has claimed you as his.

It is not recommended that you speak to the demon even if you don't look at him.

Regardless of the outcome of your offering, when you have returned to the 1st floor you must exit the building and you cannot enter the building again for any reason until the time is 6 AM.

If you have upset the demon with your offering, it is not recommended that you try the game again.

There is no reward for playing this game. There is only the experience of leaving this world and venturing to one beyond our own.

This game is dangerous and could result in the death of the player, so please consider the possible outcomes of playing before you decide to do so.

You finished reading aloud the instructions displayed on the sketchy-looking site and looked to your friend Farah, who had her hands clasped together as she looked hopefully at you and the rest of your group who had gathered in her apartment.

“Well?” she asked after a moment, “what do you think?”

“.... Why does a demon have a phone?” you asked.

“Yeah and what phone company does he use?” Cliff asked after you, “or do demons have their own phone companies.”

“You're missing the point!” Farah exclaimed.

“And the point is....?”

“We need to try this!”

There was a collective groan throughout the apartment. The other one in the group, Carmen, rubbed their forehead as they told Farah “you're our friend and we love you, but I don't think any of us want to repeat that time we tried summoning ghosts in a public bathroom.”

“This is nothing like that!” Farah insisted, “it said that we need a building with five floors and an elevator! I promise, there won't be anything gross!”

“Where do we get a building like that?” Carmen asked.

Farah pointed to Cliff.

“You work security overnight at that one office building, right?”

“Do you seriously think I'm going to risk my job for this?” he asked.

“We won't do anything bad! We'll just play a game and leave some stuff on the top floor. If the demon doesn't like it we'll take it with us. It's literally in the rules that we need to clean up after ourselves.”

Farah stopped herself, but you could tell she wanted to continue about getting a chance to visit another world. She loved the supernatural and those kinds of urban legends, but she never wanted to try these things on her own.

Carmen sighed.

“Is anyone else even remotely interested in trying this?” they asked.

Neither you or Cliff said anything at first, and Farah's face began to fall as no one volunteered. Then, when it looked like Carmen was about to speak again, you tentatively raised your hand.

“It might be fun,” you said. At least in terms of memories of 'dumb shit you did when you were younger'.

Farah beamed while Carmen gave you a look that screamed 'I hate you'.

With you willing to give the game a chance, the other two ended up conceding to do the same, and Cliff had been convinced by Farah to let you all in a week from that day when he worked at that particular building. With his shift being 11 PM to 7 the next morning, there would be plenty of time for you to play the game and then let him get back to work. As long as nothing was messed up by the end of it, there would be no harm.

At first you were rather stumped on what to give the demon as an offering. Farah was the same, but she ended up deciding on a horror anthology book from the 1920s. Carmen just got a shirt they had been wanting since they were certain that this ritual wasn't going to work and they wanted to spend the money on something that was useful to them. Cliff went out of his way to get a particularly creepy clown doll. He claimed that he wasn't annoyed by all of this, but you found yourself questioning that statement when he sent a picture of it through the group text. You had no clue where the fuck he had found something that unsettling.

The night you all had settled on was approaching and you still didn't have an offering. It shouldn't have been that hard, and yet you felt like if there was the chance that you were going to run into some otherworldly creature, you didn't want to half-ass it and make it upset. If the supernatural was real it seemed better to try and keep it on your side.

You found yourself browsing a few online forums where people were discussing the game. Unsurprisingly, most said that the ritual didn't work, and the few that claimed that it did had written some uninspired stories about how the demon had told them how they were going to die or when the world was going to end, with at least one mentioning the coming of the Antichrist. When you scrolled down to the end of the page you were pretty bored of all of the comments you read and you were about to exit the page when one particular comment caught your eye:

the demon likes bats

It was buried beneath the comments of others, and nobody had interacted with it. Common sense would tell you that this was just more bullshit, but it just seemed like such a random thing to make up. Nowhere in the instructions had it mentioned bats, and no one else on the forums had said anything about it either. The user who had posted it hadn't interacted with anything else and seemingly just came on to put out that little tidbit. For that reason, you found yourself wondering if their ritual had been successful.

You leaned back in your chair while you considered the information.

Bats, huh?

And then by complete chance the next day, when you were in the mall trying to find something because it the date you'd set for the game was only hours away and you still had nothing, you spotted something through the window of a toy store: a pink stuffed bat plush.

It was rather overpriced, but if that comment was correct, then it should be worth it. If not, at least you got something cute out of it.

Surprisingly it was Carmen and Farah that had been less than impressed by what you had brought.

“I didn't realize you wanted to offend the demon too,” Farah commented bitterly.

“Maybe the demon likes pink,” you responded as you shrugged.

Nothing more was said about it as Cliff opened the front door of the building. In exchange for doing this, he made the rest of you go about the building to turn off all any lights that had been left on which you all grumbled about but agreed was fair enough. By the time you were finished scouring the building, it was 3:13 in the morning.

It had been agreed that Farah would go first, and the rest of you waited in a darker spot of the parking lot while she went in, watching the building to see if you could spot her movements through the windows. You had pulled out your phone, as you were the last person she had called. It would probably be proven pretty fast if this was real or not if she called you and it went through to you, though Carmen had said that they felt it was likely that Farah would probably not call and just say that she had.

You checked to make sure the sentimental object you had brought was in your pocket: a small, stuffed bear keychain that you had gotten as a present from a childhood friend. It was special to you, but you didn't feel like you'd be absolutely devastated if anything happened to it.

Farah came out a few minutes later, carrying her book and looking disappointed.

“It didn't work,” she said as she sighed.

“Did you call?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat indignant. To prove that she had, she pulled out her phone and opened up her call history. It listed her last call as being made to you only a few minutes ago. When you opened up your own call history, it showed that she had called you over an hour ago.

….. Okay. That was weird.

Carmen went next, and it was the same story with them, as they came out a little bit later still holding their shirt. Unlike Farah, they didn't seem too upset.

Cliff went after, holding that creepy clown doll and waving it around a bit as he walked to the elevator.

It was quiet again after that. You, Carmen and Farah waited patiently in the parking lot while the electric lampposts around you hummed. Cliff had been talking earlier so you hadn't noticed it, but it seemed eerily quiet outside. Usually there were bugs or other forms of wildlife at night that would keep things from being silent, but right now there was nothing; only the humming electricity of the lot and the occasional comment from Carmen.

Farah seemed anxious as she looked at the building, her hands playing with the charm on her phone while she waited for any sign of Cliff. The thing with the phone history seemed to convince her this was for real and she seemed nervous about Cliff's offering. Carmen didn't appear to be the same way and seemed more impatient, who'd begun to tap their foot as they waited.

“Did you hear anything when you called?” you asked the both of them. They looked at you, and both shook their heads.

“It was quiet when I called,” Farah said.

“Same here,” said Carmen. Farah smiled at that.

“That means that it's real, right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Carmen wasn't the best person to be around when they were tired and cranky, and you could see that Farah wasn't trying to take it personally. But looking back to Carmen, you noticed a slight furrow to their brow, and the impatient tapping seemed to have increased. At first glance you would have assumed that they were just really done with this whole thing, but as you kept looking, it seemed less like they were annoyed and more more like they were apprehensive.

“Cliff's taking a while,” they commented.

It was taking Cliff longer than the two of them, you realized, and you were about to try and crack a joke about him making it to the sixth floor when you saw the elevator doors in the lobby slide open, followed by Cliff walking out.

More like storming out, actually.

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed as he shoved open the main doors.

“Don't shout!” Carmen responded, “this is your job that we're not supposed to be doing this at, remember? What're you going to do if someone calls the police on us?”

Cliff ignored them, looking to Farah as he continued “are you serious? You want this stupid thing to be real that badly?!”

He was holding something that he then thrust in front of Farah's face. It was the clown doll that he'd brought.

Or at least, what was left of it.

It looked like it had been stepped on repeatedly, the body broken and the head having been caved in. One of the legs were also missing, you noted.

“You.... You think I did that?” Farah asked.

“Who else!” Cliff yelled.

“I've been here the whole time!” she shrieked back.

“She has,” you added as you felt the need to jump in, “none of us have moved from this spot.”

“Oh fuck off,” he answered, “I needed to return this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you shouldn't have gone out of your way to be an asshole,” Farah spat back.

It quickly devolved into an argument between the two, with Carmen pulling you back when you tried to jump in again. It made sense why Cliff was upset, but Farah hadn't done anything.

“.... Should I not go?” you whispered to Carmen after a bit.

“No!” Cliff exclaimed, this time at you, “you should go! Do this stupid thing, and then let me get back to my work!”

“You're not allowed to go back in for the rest of the night,” Farah pointed out.

By that point Cliff was done, and he stormed off to another area in the lot. Carmen motioned for you to go while Farah quietly steamed. It wasn't the first time those two had fought, but the arguments seemed to be getting nastier every time they happened. Best to get this over with so they could be separated and have the time to cool down.

You walked through the darkened lobby of the empty office building, your path illuminated only by the streetlights outside. There was something about darkness and artificial light that somehow made it feel more foreboding, more dangerous. Even though you were an adult there were still thoughts that ran about in your head of creatures that you couldn't see awaiting you in the dark, and those thoughts made you tense a bit. It was such an irrational fear, but one your brain wouldn't let go of. The argument between your friends had only put you more on edge as well.

The elevator doors slid open, the bright blinding lights hurting your eyes for a second before they adjusted to them, and you stepped in the car, pushing the button for the fifth floor.

Fifth floor, leave the offering, then down to third.

There were some bits of Cliff's creepy clown doll that were in front of the elevator when you reached the top floor. It vaguely occurred to you that the instructions said to leave immediately if the offering had been destroyed, but it seemed like Cliff had tried to clean up some. Though that made sense, since he didn't want to leave a mess behind after his shift.

You pushed away some of the leftover bits with your shoe, and carefully placed the bat plush laying on its back in front of the doors.

Down to the third floor, then.

You checked again to make sure that the bear keychain was still in your pocket during the ride down, stepping out when the doors opened after you confirmed that it was.

Now to make the call....

There hadn't been anything saying you needed to wait until the doors closed to begin, but you waited anyway. When the double doors slid shut behind you, you hit the button on your screen to call Farah, the last person on your call history.

It rang twice before the call was picked up. Just as Farah and Carmen had said, it was silent on the other side. You cleared your throat before saying the words that had been instructed.

“I want to visit the sixth floor. Please.”

There was nothing that said you needed to be polite, but you figured it couldn't hurt.

You still didn't hear anything from the other end, and that silence continued for several more seconds. You held the phone close to your ear, straining to hear anything, any sort of indication that someone was on the other line. The “demon” was supposed to hang up first, you remembered, so you were stuck until something happened.

“.... That's actually cute.”

The male voice you heard on the other end was unexpected, but you didn't get a chance to say anything back before the phone call ended.

You stood very still for a few moments.

That.... That hadn't been any of the others who were still outside. Unless they had gone so far as to hide someone out there and have them answer the phone when you called Farah and all of this was just an elaborate prank. But none of them were really the kind of people to do things like that.

Remembering the instructions from the site, you turned back to the elevator and got on when the doors opened, pushing the button for fifth floor once again.

If the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor

The ding of the elevator signaled that you were once again at the top floor of the building, and when the doors slid back open and you looked to the spot where you'd left the bat, you found.... Nothing.

That space you had cleared from the broken bits of that doll was empty, the white tiled floor shining in the light that came from the elevator.

….. If this was all just a prank by your friends, you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust them after this.

The doors closed once again, and you took a deep breath before you pushed the fifth floor button.

The elevator began to move up.

There wasn't a sixth floor; you'd double checked that the building only went as high as five.

You told yourself to wait until the doors opened before you jumped to conclusions. You'd need to see this “other world” before you could say for certain that all of this was real.

The website said that it could take up to two minutes, but mere seconds later did the doors slide back open.

Everything looked normal. Just another floor of an office building.

Or it would have looked normal, had it not been for the fact that everything was bathed in a red glow that came from the outside.

Clutching your phone in one hand and the keychain in the other, you took a small, tentative step out of the car, looking to either side of you.

The hallways were empty. Nothing jumped out at you.

Slowly, you walked over to a window.

In the distance stood a glowing red cross.

…. This was real.

This was actually real.

It was almost too much to process for your shock-addled brain, and you had to wonder if anyone else who had been successful had the same reaction as you, to just stare dumbly at the scene before you.

It then occurred to you to get proof for when you went back.

You pulled up the camera on your phone. Or you tried to at least. Of all the times for your phone to act up, it needed to be when you needed to get a picture so people would believe you. The app kept taking forever to pull up before it would close and you repeatedly tapped on the screen as you tried to make it work. Somehow you managed to snap a few pictures of the cross before the camera closed again and you weren't able to open it back up. The lighting and your uncooperative phone made the pictures appear quite blurry, but one would be able to tell what they were looking at. No doubt some people would claim that it was fake, but it was enough to satisfy you.

You checked the time, finding it to be 3:30, if the phone was to be trusted. You wished you had checked before you came up here, but it was a bit too late for that now.

You stepped away from the window and went down one of the halls, looking all around before you remembered that the site said that you shouldn't look behind you. Or was that only when you heard the demon? Regardless, you kept glances behind yourself to a minimum as you made your way through the floor.

Aside from the red light that covered everything, it looked like a normal office floor, filled with different offices and supply closets and nothing that was particularly interesting to you. The one strange thing was that the red cross outside seemed to move along with you, as when you would move to a different room you would still be able to see it clearly outside. You went back to the windows a few times and tried to see if there was anything else outside, but all you found was an endless darkness with no signs of any kind of life or structure. Unsurprisingly there was also no sign of your friends down below, though it would have been hard to see where they were standing outside anyway given the angle.

The red light made you slightly sick after a while, and you tried opening up the flashlight option on your phone. But it refused to turn on. In fact, nothing on your phone was working now, and when you looked at the clock, the time was still 3:30.

Either time was being distorted or your phone wasn't able to function properly. Given how your phone was acting earlier the latter would seem to be the most likely option, but you also weren't sure what the rules of this place were. There was nothing that said that this world was bound to time in the way yours was.

The website had said that you could stay up here for as long as you wanted, right?

You began to see things out of the corner of your eye, little bits of movement in the darkness that dared you to look at them. You did a few times, mentally slapping yourself as you remembered what the instructions had said as you were now desperately trying to remember everything that had been written so you knew what you could and couldn't do. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time as you recalled what the site had said about possibly dying to this game, and at one point you felt so overwhelmed that you thought you were going to throw up. You managed to keep it down, but after that you decided that it was time to leave.

When you started to head back to the elevator was when you felt a headache coming on. It was mild at first, but when you went further along your route to the exit it started to hurt more, turning into a stabbing pain that jammed into your skull.

Had the website mentioned this? You couldn't be sure. Where were you even going again?

You stopped at an open door, leaning against the open door frame to rest. There was movement from inside the room, and without thinking you looked over to it.

The bat you had left on the fifth floor sat in the room in front of a whiteboard. A whiteboard that had been absolutely covered in drawn on hearts and your name repeated over and over.

…. The website hadn't mentioned that.

“Do you think it's a good place for him?”

The voice you heard came from a few feet behind you. The same voice you had heard over the phone.

You needed to get out. Now.

You brushed your hand against your pocket as you tried to stand up straight again, still fighting the pain of the headache when you remembered the little bear keychain.

It will keep you from losing yourself

With that thought in mind you pulled it out and focused on it, and the pain seemed to lessen by a good amount.

“You've got a thing for cute stuff, don't you?”

The voice came from directly behind you this time, like whoever was speaking was staring down over your shoulder as they were practically on top of you.

Don't look don't look don't look

You pushed off of the door frame, the keychain still in hand as you power-walked back down the hall. The headache was still there a little bit but it was nowhere near as debilitating as it had been before.

The voice whined from behind you.

“You're leaving already? You just got here.”

Don't speak. Don't look.

It was following you. You could hear the footsteps that trailed after yours, keeping up with your pace and almost being purposefully loud. Sudden noises accompanied the footsteps, making you jump and urging you to turn around. It was a natural thing to react to sudden sounds like that and you needed to catch yourself a few times from looking behind.

It was trying to keep you here and you didn't want to stay to find out why that was.

You turned several corners and walked down many halls, and the elevator wasn't anywhere in sight. That wasn't right. You had made a mental note of where the location of the elevator approximately was. As much as the headache was still messing with you, you should still be able to make it back. You knew where it was, goddammit.

…. Was it just you, or were these hallways getting longer?

A chuckle came from behind you.

“You didn't think I'd let you go that easy, did you?”

You started to run.

You weren't sure how long you continued like that – time didn't seem to be a thing up here. Around you the halls extended, stretching out and prolonging your time in this hell as you turned corner after corner and you still couldn't find the fucking elevator. The temptation was there to look behind and see how long the halls had become, but the laughter that followed you kept your eyes straight ahead.

Turning another corner, the doors to the elevator came in sight, and you let out a gasp of relief as you ran faster. Just a little bit more and then you'd be free.

…. The elevator seemed to be was moving away from you, messing with you just as the halls had done before.

You could hear him breathing directly in your ear as you ran. Still trying to freak you out, still trying to make you turn around. He hadn't touched you at all, though, and you wondered if there were rules for him that prevented him from doing so.

The attempts to get you to look back at him seemed to be getting desperate. If this thing was getting to a point where even he was desperate, you didn't want to know what the hell he'd do to you if you made the mistake of turning around.

Despite it all the elevator was getting closer. Escape was literally in your grasp-

And then something in the floor shifted that caused your knee to buckle and you were sent flying face down on the flat white tile.

The phone and keychain went flying out of your hands and there was blood in your mouth as you bit your lip. Your head ached again, though you weren't sure if it was because of him or because you'd just landed on the solid floor.

You lay there for a few moments, catching your breath as you tried to compose yourself.

You then became aware of the presence that was standing over you. He was quiet now, but you could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, as if trying to will you to look at him.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you began to crawl forward, your hands searching for the phone and keychain that had gone flying and had vanished into the darkness, the light from outside now much duller than it had been when you'd first arrived.

Don't look don't look don't look

He can't touch you

He can't force you to look back at him

Just keep facing forward and-

A horrifically loud shrieking noise sounded through the hall. It was the loudest thing you had ever heard in your life, the noise so great that you felt the floor vibrating, and your hands immediately went to cover your ears to protect your hearing as best you could.

Don't you dare fucking look back

With your hands still over your ears, you crawled forward on your knees. It was slow and it had gotten so dark that you couldn't see the elevator anymore, but it was still progress. When your knee brushed against your phone you ignored it. Who gave a fuck about proof anymore? You just wanted to get out.

But you were still trying to keep a lookout for the keychain. It had helped before; if you could find it, it would probably make getting out easier.

You put out one hand on the floor as you blindly searched for your sentimental item, your eyes scrunching up in pain as the horrible sound continued.

For a split second your fingers brushed up against something soft.

You grabbed it.

Immediately after the shrieking noise stopped.

For just a moment, there was relief, even though you still had that noise ringing in your ears. But it took only another moment for you to realize that something was wrong.

You hadn't grabbed that bear keychain. It was larger and heavier.

Opening your eyes, you found that you were holding that fucking bat plush.

“Ah. You messed up.”

A hand reached from behind you and grabbed the plush out of your grip. A different hand was placed on your shoulder and you were spun around on the floor.

A fair-skinned man with what looked to be blonde hair stared down at you, one hand still on your shoulder as he waved the bat in front of you.

“You're not supposed to take this back, remember?” he asked as he smiled at you.

“No.... I didn't...” you trailed off.

“But you did, though! You grabbed and picked it up,” he said.

That wasn't possible. You had left that thing behind in that room that felt so far away now. But as you glanced to the side you saw that, to your horror, you were sitting next to that room again, the hearts still visible on the whiteboard. You were barely able to note that it had gotten brighter and that somehow the red lighting seemed less harsh before he was talking to you again.

“So you lost and now you don't get to go back,” he told you.

“No.... You cheated.”

It felt so juvenile to say that out loud, but it was all that could come out of you in your current state.

Strangely though, he didn't deny it.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “I've never gotten a visitor as charming as yourself. When I heard you on the phone and saw what you left me, I just needed to keep you.”

He looked at the bat plush again and smiled at it as he sat down in front of you.

“Did you just pick this at random, or was it something else?”

You struggled to comprehend the question, and it took you a bit before you were able to blurt out “someone else said you liked bats.”

“So you mean you went to the trouble of looking up what things I liked? That's adorable. I love it!” he exclaimed.

You tried to subtly scoot away from him as he sat in front of you but you were noticed instantly.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked. The look he gave you was so innocent.

“I-I need to go home. I want to go home,” you insisted.

“That's not an option, remember?” he asked, waving the bat around again.

You shook your head.

“You cheated. I should be allowed to leave because you did that.”

He laughed.

“There's no rule against cheating. As long as I didn't touch you it was fine. Don't be a sore loser.”

“Fuck you.”

You spat out those words in a bout of frustration, trying your best to sound strong, but it probably just made you seem more pathetic.

He only hummed at that, just staring at you for a moment.

It had been getting steadily brighter, the red going away with every passing second and you were able to make out different colors. The purple and teal on his clothes, the shade of blonde his hair was and the blue of his eyes were visible to you for a few moments.

He set the bat plush to the side, and the world began to darken again as red and black took over.

“That's okay,” he said, more to himself than to you, “you're scared and that kind of reaction is normal, so I'm not too mad.”

It was getting harder to see him, but you could see movement about him, things about his body changing. Horns that slowly curled out from his forehead. The tips of his fingers that darkened around long claws that took the place of his fingernails. Large, bat-like wings that unfolded from behind him and spread themselves.

You caught a glimpse of his teeth in the low light, and they looked sharper than they had before.

Panic shot through you as you began to scramble away from him, but your escape attempt was short-lived as something wrapped itself around your legs and pulled you back towards him.

A tail? Oh God that was a tail.

He was on top of you, and he caged you in his arms as he leaned down to whisper in your ear “don't worry, I'll go easy on you this time.”

You tried to push him away, but he ignored it.

“Oh! Before I forget, I should introduce myself shouldn't I? I'm Shalnark. Nice to meet you.”

With that, his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss.

Your friends had been waiting a while.

Farah and Carmen stayed where they had been directly next to the building while Cliff hadn't moved from where he had stormed off to. Farah had been getting upset as she had become convinced that you were being an ass to her as well with how long you were taking. It was all Carmen could do to try and keep her calm.

Because of his distance away and how distracted they were, neither of them noticed the state Cliff was in.

They only noticed when he began to violently cough.

With Farah still slightly bitter from their earlier argument, Carmen was the one to check on him, asking if he was alright as they walked up to him.

Cliff gave no answer as he had begun to cough up blood.

Carmen's hands fumbled when they pulled out their phone to call emergency services, and they yelled at Farah to go inside and get you. The sight of the blood Cliff was coughing up had Farah sprinting towards the building, throwing the front doors open as she made a beeline for the elevator.

Carmen didn't notice it at first when Farah fell to the floor. Only when the ambulance had been confirmed and they looked back to the building to see if the two of you were coming out did they see her body lying limply on the floor.

Ambulances and cop cars arrived eventually, and both Cliff and Farah were declared dead at the scene. The autopsy reports later would declare that they had been poisoned. A thorough search of the building would find no source of where the poison had come from.

Nor did they find anything from you.

Carmen had told them that you were in there, but when they searched they found no trace of you. No personal belongings and nothing to even indicate that you had entered the building. When the search for you grew beyond the confines of the office building, there was still no trace of you. You simply vanished into thin air.

The case would puzzle investigators before they would ultimately put it aside for other cases that needed their attention. It would only gain some traction online when the files were released to the public and certain parties saw that you and your friends had been playing the Sixth Floor Game. For some people it added weight to their beliefs that the game was real and needed to be avoided. For others it was just a coincidence.

Regardless of what they thought, you remained a missing person that would never be seen again, forever immortalized by your unexplained disappearance and an urban legend.

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Got To Get Them Back

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Chapter 8/? - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 6,747

Summary: Robin's finally getting some time with Vickie! And Nancy's getting time with one of the government workers. She's not going to let them intimidate her to back off like they have before, she's going to get some answers this time. But those answers might not be the kind she's hoping for…

More ST Fics

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Nancy looked back at Steve. He was slowly shaking out a blue shirt while he kept careful eyes on her. He looked like he was ready to spring into action and run over if she so much as pouted too harshly. Which was not something she needed if she wanted to get this woman alone enough to answer questions.

She pointedly looked to the back doors of the gym with a nod, hoping he’d understand she was agreeing to walk away and didn’t need him to run out after her. His face looked pinched like he didn’t like it, but he nodded back to her, giving his blessing in some sort of way. Nancy turned back to the woman and followed her out the through the doors that poured into the track field. Crisp early spring air curled around them while the mystery woman looked around.

Once she was sure they were alone, she peered through her dark lenses at the shorter girl,“ Alright, Ms. Wheeler. I understand you might be frustrated-”

“What is going on?” Nancy bit into her time. She refused to allow her the courtesy of running through her practiced lines uninterrupted.

She didn’t want to be placated like a child. She didn’t want to be worked around and settled like a rebellious middle schooler. She was a big girl who could handle herself. And if this government worker thinks she can get around her right to know what the fuck is going on... then she doesn’t know Nancy Wheeler very well.

The woman flustered a moment, clearly not used to teenagers fighting against her authority, but she kept her corporate-like poise and shifted,“ We didn’t know much at the time-”

“No.” Nancy insisted,” You people keep coming to our town, making problems for us, and getting people hurt. Getting people killed. And it always comes down to us. Letting us deal with all the bullshit you started. Hiding the truth from us until the last second, when we become the ones paying the price to keep everything together. Do you even know how many have been hurt in Hawkins because a bunch of teenagers were the only ones trying to fix your problem?”

The question struck her a bit harder, she pulled the sunglasses off of her face to let Nancy see her vibrant greens as she answered,“ The count is at twenty-two casualties. Injuries are in the hundreds. Yes, I know.”

“So, don’t waste my time with excuses and pushing off the blame so we don’t hold you liable. We do, and we always will, not that it matters since this is all under the table, contractual NDA shit that we couldn’t do anything about if we wanted to. So, just tell me what is going on.” Nancy sucked in a breath to try and still the shaking fear in her next demand,” Tell me why haven’t I been able to reach my brother since this started.”

The woman bristled under her harsh gaze. She fell silent for a moment as those eyes flicked to the ground, running from Nancy's, before letting just a shred of personhood come out,” The last status we had on Michael was that Ms. Byers left him and the other two with Jonathan. She had a sudden business trip she went on. The girl had to go do something, and your brother stayed with the Byers boys, under the watch of agents Harmon and Wallace when the house was… when the house was raided.”

“What-” Nancy's voice croaked out as she struggled to understand that word.

‘Raided’. Their house was raided? What does that even mean?

She continued,“ We believe the three of them escaped with the agents, they weren’t at the house when a team checked in, but we haven’t heard anything about them since. And when the girl disappeared from the facility-”

Nancy was still reeling from the news that her brother was missing when her brain was stopped in its tracks,“ A facility? You just said she had something she had to go do. But there's a facility? What did you people do to El?”

“She voluntarily went in with Doctor Sam to work with Doctor Brenner on-”

“Brenner.” her voice seethed the name.

She already hated the man on principle from what she’s picked up of El’s childhood. But after she saw what she saw… when Henry showed her flashes of horrific memories of that lab, of that man... She hated him with a new fire,” You let her end up back in his-”

“She was there of her own choice.” the woman pushed,” They were working on getting her power back.”

She shook her head at that explanation,“ That’s not enough. That’s not reason enough to- to put her back with that monster. It’s just not.”

“You may feel that way, Ms. Wheeler. But, at the end of the day, the girl chose to be there. And from my last report, she was doing quite well.”

“Last report?”

“A few days ago, communication stopped. I know you think we haven't done enough, but we've been doing everything we can. We’re just doing our part managing-”

“Nothing.” Nancy finished the sentence for her.” You have been managing nothing. We have been the ones managing.”

“And this was the result of your management?” the woman asked, looking back towards the door of the gymnasium with critical eyes.

Nancy clenched her jaw. Her face set with fury at what she was implying. Like this was their fault. Like they could’ve known any better, or tried any harder than they did. They gave everything they had, without any help from anyone else.

“I came out here to get answers and make sure whatever your people try to pull doesn’t make things worse. If you end up giving the police some cover story, you keep the blame off of Eddie Munson. You don't get to make him your scapegoat. We are exonerating him of the murders and we sure as hell don’t need you messing that up for him.”

“We know he wasn’t responsible, obviously. We have no wish to put him back into the line of fire unnecessarily-”

“Good.” Nancy gave the single word and pushed past the lady she didn't bother to catch a name for as she headed back into the building.

The woman trailed after her, paces slower and shorter thanks to her heels,“ Wait, we need to discuss what you kids have been-”

“I’ll tell you what happened this week when you can tell me where my brother is.”

Nancy set the condition to their terms with an iron conviction clear in her voice. She didn’t even look at the woman. Just kept walking until she made her way back to the garment table. She retook her place next to Steve and picked up the first thing she saw to have something to do with her hands.

When Nancy returned to Steve’s sight, she was fuming. He didn’t need a close look at her to tell she was pissed. Even from across the room, Steve could feel it coming off her in waves. Behind her, he saw the suit enter the doors herself, huffing as she futzed with her jacket and slipped the sunglasses back into place. She was clearly less than satisfied with how their conversation had gone.

Something important just happened.

Nancy was folding the clothes with more force than she really needed to, when Steve carefully asked,“ What happened?”

Her hands suddenly stilled as her face twisted further.

“They knew.” she spit the words out as quietly as she could in her steaming anger.

“They knew?”

“Knew something was up when Chrissy died,” Nancy answered, hands fighting with the fabric in her grasp. She wasn’t really folding it anymore, she just kept pulling and twisting as she worked through the words,” Before Freddie and Patrick. Before Max and Eddie. They knew, and they didn’t do anything about it. They just silently poked around. Keeping everything to themselves. While we were out there, risking our lives, actually trying to do something.”

“They-?” Steve started, but Nancy didn’t stop.

“They don’t even know what happened to the others. Mike and El and Will and Jonathan are missing.”

“What?” Steve’s voice came out weak, feeling the pit of his stomach drop to his feet.

“Their house was raided. Raided. Days ago. And they lost touch with the rest of their team out west. They don’t know where any of them are. And before they even lost them, they handed El back to that bastard-”

Steve put his hands over hers to still their movements. It pulled her out of her head enough that she stopped to properly breathe instead of just drawing in shallow huffs between her words. He gently tugged on the piece and she relinquished the fabric without further opposition. Nancy closed her eyes a moment, tensing all her muscles and releasing them to try and reset the part of her that couldn’t stop burning with the information she’d just received.

“Do you want to leave, Nance?” he asked her.

“No.” she opened her eyes and picked up a pair of children’s shorts, actually folding them this time,” We said we’d help out. Let’s just finish up, and then we can all get out of here.”

“Okay.”

As less than an hour goes by of folding and sorting, there wasn’t much said between the two. Not much beyond the ‘excuse me’s they'd exchange as they reached around one another, at least. When Dustin ran out of people to offer water cups to, he drifted over to the two of them and started pressing for what Nancy found out. Steve shook his head to tell him that they wouldn’t talk about it right now. Not that she could have even said much, nothing louder than a whisper of their supernatural secrets would’ve been allowed in the crowded room. Finally, Robin made her way on over with Vickie following behind her.

She was very much a contrast to Nancy’s display. Robin looked like she was walking on clouds, all smiles and sunshine filling the air around her as she got to have nearly a whole hour just talking to Vickie. And Vickie, curiously, looked very much the same.

Robin was carrying a few saran-wrapped sandwiches and held a pair of them out for Steve and Nancy when she arrived at their table. She handed another to Dustin, keeping one for herself, and passed the last to Vickie.

“They’re finished with us. We covered the lunch crowd, got most of the prep for dinner taken care of, and now I think they want us to get out of the way.” Robin told them with a bright smile.

“And we thought you three would be ready for a lunch break, on the house,” Vickie added.

They all accepted the food with polite smiles, but Steve looked into Robin a little bit harder. Because the girl was practically glowing. Steve narrowed his eyes at her, ever so slightly. Just enough to make sure she knew that he could see what was going on. Just enough to make sure she knew that he would absolutely be grilling her for answers once they ditched all the others. She cocked her head to the side with harsh eyes, as if trying to threaten him without words not to spill anything while Vickie was still there.

“Thanks. It’s Vickie, right?” Steve asked, sparing a glace at Robin, whose eyes widened suddenly in response.

“Yeah, it’s Vickie. How’d you know?” the girl asked.

Robin pressed her lips together, eyes boring into Steve with furious anxiety.

Vickie waved her hand to excuse herself, falling into a bubbling ramble like someone Steve knows quite well,” No offense, there’s nothing wrong with you knowing. I just figured our social circles didn’t really overlap when you were in high school so- not that I think I’m better than you or anything, it is absolutely not that. And I don’t want to imply that I think you think you’re better than me so-”

“No, you’re fine.” He stopped her,” Rob and I are just best buds, and she mentioned seeing a fellow band geek when we were at WarZone. I’m good with faces and picked up the name.”

“Oh, yeah. You were with her a couple of days ago, huh?” Vickie nodded along, clearly buying that the only reason Steve caught it was that recent run-in.

Robin’s glare softened as it worked, pulling back on some kind of easy-going smile that she really hoped didn’t look forced. She didn’t know what she’d do if Steve got stuck and just blurted out,” Oh, Robin just talks about you all the freakin’ time. Obsesses over how she looks in the morning because she wants to impress you. Oh, and we’ve had conversations, at length, about the likelihood that you’re into boobies. So yeah, I’m sure you wouldn’t be freaked out by that, Miss Vickie!”

That would’ve been a mess beyond repair.

“So,” Steve leaned in towards Vickie with a teasing grin at the girl standing beside her. He lowered his head but spoke in a loud whisper everyone could hear,” Did she do a good job making sandwiches, or should I be hesitant to take my first bite?”

“Nimrod,” Robin called him as the pink already in her cheeks flared.

“Nimrod yourself. I’m just worried your clumsy self might’ve left the knife in the middle of my sandwich, and I don’t want to lose a tooth today.”

Robin reached over the table to shove against Steve’s shoulder,” Just eat your stupid lunch.”

The five of them headed outside to eat on the benches and find something casual to say to pass the time. They shared introductions and wondered about the earthquake, what that would mean for school, and all that, but they only had a few minutes to start to get to know her when Vickie’s parents pulled up and took her back home.

That was becoming a more common occurrence in Hawkins than it previously was: parents driving their kids everywhere. Most of the time, the kids could just wander around: riding bikes, taking the bus, driving themselves, and carpooling with pals.

But now, there were more moms and dads crossing town at predetermined times to take their kids back. Maybe it was because so many of them had unexpected time off of work. Maybe it was because everyone not moving away was still scared shitless that something bad was still coming to hurt their babies. Which wouldn’t necessarily be wrong… But, whatever strange forces were making parents keep their kids on a shorter leash, it called Vickie away sooner than Robin was ready to let her go.

Once she was gone, the four left on the bench, who actually have some idea of what was going on, were able to discuss the current developments. After Robin and Dustin got caught up, they both felt awful. Less of the burning anger that Nancy had felt, but more a sick fear that washed over them with the news that the Byers and Mike were all missing.

And then, before anyone could even think of what to do, Dustin was running.

Or, at least, he was attempting. He still had an obvious limp that was getting in his way of making much haste.

“Henderson- Henderson!” Steve called as he jumped up from the bench after him.

He caught up to the boy with relative ease as Dustin started trying to manhandle his locked rear seat door, the girls following shortly behind.

“Henderson, what’re-”

“Give me your keys!” the boy shouted at him, very seriously.

Steve pulled his key ring from his pocket and handed them over to Dustin’s waiting hand. He immediately pulled apart the car’s key from the others and broke into the back seat. He practically fell over himself as he spilled into the seats and dug his hand around under them. Then he pulled out one of those brick walkie-talkies.

“We didn’t leave that in there a few days ago?” Steve asked, though, it'd be more acurate to say Steve stated it as fact with a note of confusion.

Dustin agreed,“ No, we didn’t. I grabbed one before you picked me up. And, honestly, everyone should have one of their own right now, but that’s beside the point.”

“Well, what’re- what’re you doing?” Steve tripped on the word as Dustin turned up the volume, a light buzzing static coming over the empty radio waves.

“Calling Lucas. We need to give them the update.” And, with that, he clicked the receiver,“ Lucas, this is Dustin. We have news. Over.”

Only a few seconds of buzzing passed. Steve took back his keys while they all climbed into the car with Dustin. Then, as each of them settled in closer, the other boy’s voice trilled through the walkie.

“Is it good news or bad news? Over,” he asked, already sounding like he was dreading the answer.

Dustin paused for a moment. “Pretty bad news. Over,” he solemnly admitted to the other.

There was silence. He didn’t come back through immediately, and just that was enough to make Dustin start to worry,” Are you okay? Over.”

“I’m fine. I’m with Max right now. Can we talk about it later?”

He sounded tired and quiet. Like he didn’t think he could take any more bad news. Like he didn’t even want Max’s sleeping body to overhear it.

The “Over” came through like an afterthought a few seconds later.

Lucas honestly forgot he even needed to say it. At least, he had until Erica nudged his foot with hers and reminded him.

“Uh. Yeah- yeah. No problem.” Dustin shook his head like he needed to loosen the rejection,” I can check in later. How ‘bout around nine? Over.”

“Around nine. Over.” Lucas confirmed.

Dustin turned back down the sound and set the box back into the seat between him and Nancy.

“Hey. He’s okay. Just not ready for more shitty news.” Robin assured him, twisting in her seat to look in his eyes.

“Yeah.” he nodded back, not looking totally convinced.

Nancy leaned over to him and bumped his shoulder to draw his attention. She might’ve wanted to boil over and break something herself, but she didn’t like seeing the little guy get all bent out of shape. She gave him the best reassuring smile she could muster and told him they’d be okay. Steve started the car and began the drive back over to the suburbs to drop everyone off. First Nancy and Dustin, mostly so he could corner Robin and get the latest scoop on the Vickie front, and maybe find some way to kill time just the two of them before he went back home alone.

It didn't take long for them to return to the Wheelers. Maybe fifteen minutes and Steve was pulling into Nancy’s driveway to hand her back over to her family. Her mother stood in the open front door after she heard the car roll up. Karen waved at them as Nancy opened the back door to get out when suddenly she looked to the road confused.

“Did somebody order pizza?” she called to the kids and they all turned around to see a pizza delivery van rolling up.

Surfer Boy’s Pizza. Not a store any of them has ever heard of. And certainly, none of them called for lunch at the Wheelers. But, if it wasn’t anyone inside who called for the food and it wasn't any of them, why was it here?

At least, that’s what they all wondered to themselves until the side door slid open. Until they saw the people tumbling out of it were Will, El, and Mike. Then, from the front seats, there was Jonathan and another guy they didn’t recognize. But who cares if they didn’t know who he was? He helped bring them back, so he's practically a member of the team already.

As soon as they all realized who they were looking at, each of them threw open their doors and ran out for the reunion. Karen ran down the driveway until she had her boy in her arms. She practically tried to squeeze the life out of him, and he all but crumbled into the comfort and safety of his mother's arms. Nancy went straight for her long-distance boyfriend, now that said distance was something she could actually cross. She was lifted off the ground in his embrace. Legs kicked up behind her as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, just so relieved to see one another alright. Dustin hobbled forward until Will and El crashed into him, wrapping him up in their affection. He had them under each arm, holding tightly around their shoulders like he wasn’t sure he’d ever see them again.

Steve and Robin stepped forward, just a pace behind the others, seeing as they were less desperate to hold onto them. The new guy, Argyle they’d later find out, was his own distance across the way too. The three of them wore fond smiles, though. Even if they weren’t sharing tight hugs with their friends, just watching the others' joyful collisions together made them start to feel better themselves.

Karen doted on her son. Making comments through her teary voice that he doesn’t get to go on vacations anymore and that she wasn’t going to let him go to college because she needed to keep him right next to her. Nancy and Jonathan were whispering about what was going on. Clearly, both understanding that they’ve individually been involved in the ‘situation’ despite the separation. The set of three pulled away from each other as Dustin wiped away misty eyes.

Steve hadn’t had as much time to bond with the two of them as he had with Dustin, sure, but they were his kids too. And when Nancy told him that the government lady said they were missing, god, it scared him. It scared him like when he found Max looking near dead in Lucas’ arms. Because some kids go missing and pop back up in a few hours, but not these kids. These kids go missing, and the world goes to shit, and people die, and things don’t just work out for them all the time. So, while he allowed Henderson to be first, he had no plans to go much longer without any hugs of his own.

Steve stepped up and announced,” Alright, babysitter’s coming in to collect his too!”, as he ducked his arms around their waists and swept the two off their feet.

“Steve! Your stitches!” he heard Robin scold him.

But he didn’t care.

This was more important.

El and Will let out their own set of squeals and ‘Steve!’ as he swung them side-to-side, throwing their legs around them with reckless abandon. He didn’t stop until they both began to slap at his back and insist they be let down between their giggles. He set them both on their feet, leaving them rosy-cheeked and smiling. He peeked over and made eye contact with the other boy for a second. Mike, who, despite still being in his mother’s arms, made a face like he was worried Steve was going to come after him next.

Steve swatted a hand in his direction to let him know he was safe.

He never got in good with that kid. Mike was never all that impressed with him and still seemed to hold a grudge from his days with Nancy. Why? Steve had no idea. All he ever did was get caught climbing their gutter once or twice. And it wasn't like he was the one who broke up with Nancy or ever did anything to Mike. But, for whatever reason, that was the one member of the Party he couldn’t win over.

Will looked around them,“ Where’s Lucas?”

Dustin answered simply,“ He’s at the hospital.”

“Was he hurt?” worry found its way onto El's face.

He began to assure them,“ No. No, he’s…”, then he realized,” Oh God... You don’t know.” El looked to her brother for comfort.

“What don’t we know?” Will asked in her place.

Dustin shook his head.

He didn’t want to say the words. Every time someone said it, it became more real. And they didn’t know yet, so in their world, Max was fine. She wasn’t in a coma, body nearly broken into pieces by a twisted telekinetic, with no sign of when she’d wake up. If she’d wake up. But if he said it, he was taking that from them. Bringing them into the grim reality he’s been in the last few days… Making it real.

“Max is hurt.” Steve placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, taking the burden of saying the words, and brought his voice low,” We fought this thing, and it got to her. It’s bad.”

“Take me to her,” El said.

And Steve can’t say no.

Can’t seem even consider it when it’s El, he’s noticed.

The girl who’s gone to hell and back more times than any of them. The girl who’s barely even gotten to see the world she lives in. The girl whose hair has been cut close to her head again, just when she had finally been able to grow it out beyond her shoulders. The girl who’s lost too much in saving the world over and over again. Who lost her own dad, not even a year before.

“Nance.” Steve called over, said girl turning away from her boyfriend to look at him,” They want to go see Max.”

“Max?” Mike questioned as he pulled away from his mom.

“She’s in the hospital…” his sister filled in for him and told Jonathan,“ Yeah, yeah, we should all go over. She’s at Hawkins Memorial.”

In truth, Jonathan wanted nothing less than to climb back into that pizza van. After so many days stuck switching between its driver and passenger seat, he was tired of the whole damned thing. But if Max was in the hospital, that’s where they needed to be.

“Nancy, you’ll go with them and explain what’s going on?” Robin asked, receiving a nod as Nancy turned to climb into the very machine that’s made a half-country journey over the last few days.

Karen was resistant to letting go of her son and allowing him to be somewhere out of sight again. But she knew he needed to see his friends, and his sister would be with him. Her husband might try and act like Nancy was a mess of impulse and foolish emotion, but she knew her daughter was more than that. She’s strong and smart and one of the most responsible kids in the world, even if her ambition leads her to be brash sometimes. She moved her hands to pull her son’s forehead to her and smacked a kiss onto it once it was close enough.

“You are to come right back here after you finish checking on them,” she instructed, gently jabbing a finger into his chest to make sure he understood.

Mike rolled his eyes a little, but agreed,“ Alright, Mom.”

El and Will decided to ride in with Steve’s car to tell them their half of the story and catch up, while Nancy took her place in the back of the sun-faded yellow van next to Mike. While Argyle hopped back to the shotgun seat and Jonathan returned to his place behind the wheel, he decided to introduce himself to Nancy.

“I’m Argyle, and you’re my boy, Jonny’s, lady,” he stated instead of asking.

“Nancy,” she corrected his use of ‘Jonny’s Lady’ as a title for her. Despite it, she stretched a smile across her face to keep off any other reaction that wanted to present itself,” And you’re the friend from California.”

“Yes, I am,” he replied, wearing an easy-going grin that looked a lot more genuine and effortless than her own.

She didn’t get him. They’ve only just met, so it’s probably unfair to have decided it, she knows. But, already, she doesn’t get him.

There’s a cadence to his speaking that’s so lax and comfortable, and he just lolls his head around like it’s some foreign weight on his neck that he’s still adjusting to. All that might be something she brushes off as just somebody who walks through the world differently than she does. But apparently, they don’t walk through it so dissimilarly since they’ve both latched onto Jonathan and have gotten mixed up in Upside Down business.

So how is he so… him right now?

There was a beat of awkward silence while Nancy pondered him when Argyle looked like he was gearing up to say something else.

”So, what happened over here?”, Jonathan stepped in. Hoping to bait off another ‘Well, this is awkward’ moment between Argyle and a Wheeler as they started to pull away from the driveway.

“A lot,” Nancy answered,” But before we get into that, how are you all fine? I spoke to someone who said you all went missing after your house was raided.”

Jonathan started explaining,“ Uh, yeah. We got stuck with these supervisors to make sure we didn’t run off while El was with the doctors, and we were planning to sneak away to find her when a bunch of guys came through the windows and the doors, shooting-”

“Shooting?”

“One of the agents died, and the other was hit and came with us while we got out with Argyle. He died just after though.”

“Harmon and Wallace.” Nancy nodded.

“Who?” Mike asked her.

“Those were the agents. Agent Harmon and Agent Wallace. Right?”

“Was that their names? We just kept calling the one ‘Unknown Hero Agent Man’.” Argyle commented, before turning around in his seat to ask,” Do you know which one he was?”

“No, I don’t,” Nancy stated with a shake of her head.

“Man, coulda started calling him ‘Known Hero Agent Man’. Or just by his name, I guess. You think if we just use both, it’ll split the respect 50/50?” he wondered aloud, mostly to himself and Jonathan.

”Anyway, that’s-,” Nancy started as Argyle tried to find the best answer for himself.

"Rest in peace Harmon or Wallace? Rest in peace Wallace or Harmon? Wallrmon? Harlace? RestInPeaceWallaceHarmon?"

"Well, we can leave respect to both of them. They both died semi-heroically, even if only one of 'em did it in the back of the van." Jonathan reasoned.

”Wait, you said you only had one of them with you?”

“Yeah, the other was killed when he answered the front door. He was collapsed against the living room wall when we started running for our lives. Why?” Jonathan asked her.

“The woman I talked to said both of the agents were missing with you guys.”

“No, no, we definitely left the other one behind at the house.”

“And we left the other-other one buried in the desert,” Argyle added.

“So what happened to him before the rest of the team showed up…?” Nancy muttered.

Jonathan checked,“ You’re sure she said they were both gone?”

“Yes, I’m sure. She was pretty clear about it.”

“I’m getting a feeling like that probably doesn’t mean anything good.” Argyle cast wary eyes out the window at all the trees that rolled by.

“Yeah… probably not.” Jonathan agreed with him and turned his attention back to Nancy,” Um, but what do you guys know, what’s been going on in Hawkins?”

“Where to start…? There’s this guy, Vecna-”

“Vecna?” Mike cut her off,” Like our campaign-”

“Exactly like Eddie’s campaign, Dustin started it-” Nancy confirmed until Mike was talking over her again.

“Eddie? Why are you talking about Eddie? How do you know Eddie? You two never-”

“Well, we’ve had a very busy week, Mike-”

“That does not explain why you would-”

“Stop interrupting me, and I’ll get there.”

“Wow, you two really are siblings.” Argyle mused in the passenger seat.

“What does that mean?” They asked in unison, both somewhat offended to be compared to the other.

Argyle put up in hands in surrender,” Nothing bad, dudes. Just making observation and conversation.”

“Anyway- Vecna was one of the kids from El’s thing, the first one-”

“Henry- Or One-" Jonathan said," We know about him. He was the reason Dr. Brenner’s whole experiment got started.”

“Well, do you know how he got started?” Nancy asked, her tone more bitter than she was trying for.

She didn’t know what it was. It might’ve been the fact that they lost to Vecna/Henry/One, it might’ve been the woman in the pantsuit trying to make her feel small, it might’ve been Mike interrupting her like a minute ago... It could’ve been anything. But something was making it sound like she needed to prove herself. She needed to prove that she was smart, and capable, and had information they didn’t.

She took their silence as an answer and started with the things they couldn’t have known about,” Did you know he was the son of Victor Creel? That he murdered his mother and sister right here in Hawkins twenty-seven years ago? Did you know Dr. Brenner was coming to take him away because his parents thought he was off, but when Victor was arrested for their murders was put in Pennhurst, Brenner just took him and started all of this because the boy had powers and sadistic tendencies?”

Jonathan admitted,“ No. We did not know that."

But something in him heard that undercurrent in her. Like she wanted to start a fight. Jonathan's never been the kind of guy who likes fighting, who likes the be the guy on top of someone else. He doesn't butt against her with what they learned, he just simply says it because they all need to be on the same page.

"We do know that, after One became Brenner’s subject, the Dr. took away what he could do and kept him in the facility working as an orderly. He got close with El and told her how to do her stuff better until she got rid of his shackles. He killed nearly everyone there and tried to kill her when she confronted him. But she overpowered him, even as a kid. Sent him to what we know as the Upside Down.”

“Why has she never-”

Mike answered,“ She didn’t know. Blocked it out or something until this week.”

“The woman, she said… is it true? That El has her…”

“Oh yeah, girlie’s got her mojo back and then some.” Argyle smiled as he spoke.

“Wow,” Nancy said, partially because it was the only thing she could think to say when Argyle spoke. She really didn't know how to handle him or his whole… vibe.

“Anyway, the point is that he’s been behind all of it. He’s been the thing that kept reaching in from the Upside Down. And, on the last day before Spring Break, he killed Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Mike asked, eyebrowed hiked halfway up his forehead.

Argyle whispered loudly to Jonathan,“ Who’s Chrissy Cunningham, dude?”

“Cheerleader, really pretty, dating - or, dated - the basketball captain.” he filled in the only non-local in the vehicle,“ But, wait, he killed her?”

“In Eddie Munson’s trailer.”

“What?” Mike’s eyebrows went impossibly higher.

“Whole town thought Eddie killed her, but Max noticed her lights went on the fritz when it happened so we started looking into it as an Upside Down situation. As time passed, Vecna - or Henry or One - got Fred Benson and Patrick McKinney-”

“Kid on the school paper. Basketball player.” Jonathan translated the names for Argyle.

“And he tried to get Max. Twice.”

“Dr. Sam told El that things were crazy back here, but that you guys were fine. El didn’t believe him and checked. Said you guys were planning to take him down and were going to get yourself hurt when Max said she was marked by him.” Mike said to her.

Nancy started talking with her hands as she began to explain what they knew about Vecna’s situation,“ For some reason, Vecna doesn’t come over to this side. He just makes these little tears and stuff, but nothing enough for him to cross. I don’t think he can make something that big on his own. So he was finding these tormented kids, and broke into their heads with nightmares and delusions until he killed them… and somehow, their death's made these little tears that lingered. He needed four of them to open a bigger gate. And he’d decided one of them was Max. We kept him off of her once and put together a plan to have Max draw him away so we could dive or climb into the Upside Down through one of the small ones and destroy his physical body. To put a stop to it.”

“And all of this happened Thursday?” Jonathan asked, looking at her in his rearview mirror.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“We couldn’t get any flights to get over here after we got El back and she said it was looking bad for Max. El figured, if we couldn’t physically get here in time, we could put her in a salt bath like three years ago in the gym. So she could find Max and use her to piggyback into Henry’s head.”

“Mind Fight,” Argyle commented.

“She said while she was fighting him, he started having these reactions like something else was happening to him and then him and everything around them just faded away.”

“We lit him up with Molotov cocktails and buckshot.”

“So it worked.” Mike nodded, but was still confused,” Then why was there an earthquake and-”

“It didn’t work.” Nancy told him sadly,” Where we were supposed to find his body, it was missing. He got to Max. And then he got away. Somehow. And the gate opened for over a minute.”

“Max died?” her brother gaped at her.

“Eddie did, too.”

“What?”

“He went in with Dustin to distract the monsters. We pulled him out, but he bled a lot. Steve had to give him CPR, and we got them both back, but he’s in the hospital with Max.”

“Wait- that’s who El…?” Jonathan began to ask, cutting himself off as he connected the dots.

“What?”

He continued,“ El said there was someone else with you guys. A guy she didn’t know. Lots of hair, right?”

“It was Eddie?” her brother asked, remembering El's mumbling when she came back.

“Yeah.”

“But he’s fine, now?” Mike hoped.

Nancy was quiet for a moment. She didn’t have the kind of answer he wanted,“ He hasn’t woken up yet. Neither has Max.”

“El can check on them.” Jonathan declared.

“What do you mean she can check on them?”

“You remember how I said ‘and then some’?” Argyle asked her.

“Yeah?”

“This is the some.” Jonathan took over,” El, like, remote resuscitated them, or something. We don’t really know what she did. She doesn’t really know what she did. But she did something and they didn't stay gone.”

“What does that mean?”

“We don’t know, not yet…”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.” Nancy finished as Jonathan pulled into the hospital parking lot.

The other carpool had a somewhat similar conversation as they drove behind. Filled in all the blanks from the past week for each other, but there was notably a lot less bickering between siblings. Dustin had tried to reach Lucas on the radio, but he wasn’t responding. In truth, he might’ve shut it off with the plans to hear from him that night.

When they turned the corner into the lot, Will found one of Steve’s zip-up hoodies in the back seat. It was a dark blue, not quite navy, color with worn drawstrings that’d have come undone in the wash and been retied about a dozen times. With Steve’s blessing, they get El slipped into it to cover her now near-shaven head to avoid attracting too much attention, She steadies her nerves and pulls the hood over as she sets her sights on the building.

It took a minute because it was still so busy with patients coming in and going out, but eventually, both cars got parked, and the members of the slowly reforming Party climb out onto the pavement. They came together and headed inside to see what’s become of their unconscious companions. And to see what they can do about it.

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

Love at first sight?

Chapter 5

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Word count: 1340 words

Warnings: Language, suicidal thoughts.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For I would always cling to my sword

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must fight the pain of my fault [...]".

-Heavenly Angel by an unknown author.

"Don't you have a life or something?". Warren teased Hank. It was 3:49 AM when the young man awoke from his slumber. "Not really, thanks to you". Hank's intentions had been good. To return the teasing only. But the purpose got lost when he saw Warren looking down in shame, shifting in bed as he seemed to try to make himself disappear.

It was a touchy subject for him, Hank had forgotten. He knew just how much he felt like a burden to everyone at Xavier's. It was clear Warren was not much of a talker himself. But when those sleepless nights came, where he would jump out of bed covered in sweat and breathing harshly after a particularly awful nightmare, that the idea of staying awake with his companion was more inviting than to go back to his made-up Hell.

Only then Hank had learned about the extravagant life, filled with luxurious items and exotic vacations Warren had grown in. Hank also found out about Warren's handsome but cold-hearted-control-freak father, about his loving but impotent mother, about what it was to have it all only for it to be having it taken away. The lonely days and lonelier nights that followed after, the age-inappropriate behaviours, one bad decision after another, and mostly, Hank realized just how worthless the "poor rich kid" deep down felt.

"It makes no sense". Warren said softly, looking down at the cup of freshly-made tea he was holding in his hands. "What?". The older man asked him while pouring some of it on his mug. "Me! Me being here makes no sense!", "I'm nothing but an inconvenience". Warren let out with sight. Although he was referring to him being at the mansion, the hidden meaning of it sent a shiver through Hank's spine. "Hey, stop saying that! You are NOT an inconvenience, Warren. You should be here!". Said Hank as he got closer to the boy, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. There was some absolute concern in Hank's voice as he saw a glimpse of a tear peeking through Warren's eyes. "Oh! bullshit!". "You more than any other person should be pissed off with me!". "You're working extra hours on a lost cause!". Hank's heart hunched. It was true Hank had been depriving himself a lot so Warren could have the best treatment. Yes, he attempted to kill him and his friends before. But the more time he had spent with the kid, the more he had realized: Warren had been a pawn, manipulated only by the true villain, Apocalypse.

"Hey! Look at me, Warren." He said firmly. "Yes, you are right. I should be taking better care of myself. But I'm only doing so because I'm not willing to slow down until you're heald". He said, with such convincement, it made Warren believe there could be someone being finally genuinely kind to him.

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

"I- I was only, umm, you know it was just a joke, right?". Hank nervously stated. "Sure, man". Even though Warren seemed to pay no mind towards Hank's comment, his voice had failed him, having it come out on a lower pitch rather than his usual vigorous one.

in an attempt of changing the topic, Hank pointed at your still sleeping figure. "So... An old friend of yours?".

It was somehow painful for Warren to see you there, resting at the infirmary room connected to all those noisy machines. In the end, your near-death encounter, in theory, had been Warren's fault. Hank's question had rumbled within the blond's mind. You weren't friends. He didn't even know your name. And honestly, he was more preoccupied with the atrocious first impression he believed he'd made in front of you. "You are the biggest idiot on earth if you think she'll ever want to even see you after what you've put her through". Warren's inside voice scolded him.

"No". The young mutant finally answered. "oh! I see". Hank teased again. Even though what Hank was implying: The real reason You were there was because of Warren's attraction to You, was nothing but the truth. Warren couldn't stop the blush from tinting his pale cheeks." It's not what you think, okay!". "Well, your face says otherwise, Romeo". The older man was grinning at him in amusement. "Shut up!". Warren's effort of sounding threatening failed due to his face heating up impossibly harder. His natural porcelain-white face was now a deep shade of red, making his facial tattoos stand out even more. Hank was having the time of his life. While Warren was acting like a teenage boy, he couldn't stop the laughs from coming out. "You done?". Warren said from behind one of the wings he'd been using as a cover. "Hey, take it as payback from running away".

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For my heart shall always be in joy

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must behave just like a boy".

The atmosphere remained comfortable. After an hour or so, Warren fell asleep again, not after convincing Hank to do the same. Who after, some reluctance, finally gave in and left to his room.

"Wakie, wakie, sleeping beauty". A hoarse grunt came from Warren's sleeping form as Ororo was poking his cheeks to get his friend out of Morpheus' grip faster. "Come on, Dollface. You have to get out of bed! It's almost 9 PM!". "What the hell?" Warren shifted in bed, reading the big clock on the wall. "You little shit, it's only 9... AM!".

Ororo's giggles were resounding through the room. "Oops". "Well, now that your up, we might as well get breakfast. Don't you think?". He was going to argue about how unholy early his friend had decided to show up when his stomach gave him in. It had been more than 18 hours since the last time he'd eaten, which was why he decided to let it slip. "Fine! But you'll have to give me your bacon to make up for waking up a man who almost died in a fire at 9 AM".

"Yeez, you sure are a Drama Queen, Warren". Ororo was walking toward your bed, peeping at the monitors. "Hank said she was the one who got it bad". "Your problem was only exhaustion, which reminds me of: Hank told me, to tell you that you're free to go".

Warren zoned out the moment Ororo mention you. Under the morning's light, it was easier for him to examine You. Your H/C locks were stiff from all the dirt and ash from the fire; Your face, which had been whipped clean when you arrived, allowed him to scrutinize every inch of it. Nothing was going unnoticed. Even the tiniest of your scars located under your left brow had been seen. He was so lost on himself taking your features in he'd forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. "Earth calling Fallen Angel, do you copy, Fallen Angel?". Ororo raised her voice. "Uh? Yes, what?". "Dear Lord, you didn't hear a thing, did you?". Ororo was irritated but decided against scolding Warren. Him showing interest in people was an odd sight. "I said if you wanted me to get you your breakfast so you could spend more time with her before your appointment with The Professor?". He only wished his friend wasn't able to see his excitement from such an offering. "That would be ni-, wait which appointment?". "What? Your pigeon brain didn't register that either? The Professor said he had something to tell you. Be at his office at 11 sharp". After that, the girl stormed off the room while yelling something along the lines of "not being people's secretary".

It had been only then, as he stood in the middle of the room when Warren heard a muffled voice behind him.

"I'm I dead?" You said.

[paroxysmal-distaste]

acatalepsy. || prologue

copied and pasted from my wattpad, excuse the old writing.

playlist.  0.  1.  2.  3.  4.  5.  6.  7.  8.  9.  10.  11.  12. ----- ◈ Chapter 0 - Prologue ◈ ◈ Date Published: 24/12/2018 ◈ ◈ Word Count: 2147 ◈ -----

UNKNOWN DAY IN AN UNFAMILIAR UNIVERSE

"What the hell are we doing in here?"

"Lighten up! You barely leave the house anyways."

"Yeah yeah yeah, you don't need to remind me. Did you bring the flashlight I asked you to bring?"

"I thought you were taking it."

You face palmed.

Recently, there's been a train accident where it's said to be believed that the tunnel was haunted. Everyone thought this was true because apparently there would be less people onboard after going through the tunnel than before. Almost like they were taken by something.

You thought it was bullshit.

The area had already been blocked off, but that doesn't stop your adventure loving friend from dragging you into her curiosities. In a way, you had always admired that about her, but other times you saw it as a flaw. One of those times being now.

"Mags?"

"Hm?"

"Can I go now?"

"No."

You rolled your eyes and frowned, speeding up your pace to keep up with her, "Wait up, will you?"

"Does your phone have any battery?" She questioned, ignoring your comment.

"Just a bit, I don't know if it will be enough though, especially since the flashlight takes up a lot of it."

"Turn it on for a moment, I can't see where I'm going." The both of you lifted up the Caution, Keep Out! police tape as you carefully stepped over the rumble. The atmosphere surrounding the place was giving you the chills, and you shivered quietly.

"Can we speed this up a little? I'm getting the creeps." You stated blandly, subconsciously tightening your grip around your backpack straps. You kicked a squashed can of Sprite to the left of you.

"Give me a hand with this." Mags gestured for you to help her with what seemed to be a large part of debris from the crash.

"Alright, but if it accidentally drops on your foot or something and it breaks, don't blame me." You raised your hands up comically and pursed your lips, before dropping them loosely to your sides. You grunted as your fragile hands attempted to pull off a large chunk of concrete from the side of the tunnel.

"You know, you're acting kind of weird. What's the rush? You don't have somewhere to be, right?" She asked abruptly.

You froze,"N-no, what makes you say that?" Your body stiffened as your friend squinted her eyes at you suspiciously.

"You seem to be in a really big hurry for some reason and you don't usually care when I pull you around on these trips."

You lifted your arms and shoulders, turning your head to the side, "I-I don't know, I think I'm just tired I guess."

"You're a terrible liar! You're meeting up with someone aren't you?" She placed her hands on her hips and neared you, making you back away nervously.

"Pffft- whaaaaaat? No way." You tugged at your turtleneck, "It's getting a little hot in here. Mind if I just-" Just as you were going to push past her, she said something that made you pause.

"It's Miles, isn't it?" The constant shifting of your eyes made her own widen and her lips to curve into a smile. "I knew it! You can't hide anything from me!"

"Shush! I was going to tell you, but I didn't know if I would call it anything yet." You fiddled with your hands in an antsy way, before pushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Ooo, you have to tell me what happened!"

"He just asked me out, that's all!"

"That's all! What do you mean- that's great!"

Your face reddened as she hugged you, "Stop... you're making it seem bigger than it is."

Mags nudged you suggestively, before walking forward. "I'll drop it. For now."

After a moment or two, a giant hole in the wall was finally revealed, and your friend carefully put a foot in the gap, trying to squeeze their way in.

"I can't get in! I think I'm stuck." She murmured, her voice echoing since half her body was left through the wall and her legs were kicking up and down in panic.

You snickered at her flailing limbs, and you could hear her getting cross at your lack of helpful action.

Something made a clicking sound, and you shielded your eyes from the sudden bright light in your face. It flickered for a moment, and a loud horn sound blew.

"M-Mags." You tugged at the bottom of her jacket, your eyes widening as you noticed that the light was from an incoming train.

"Huh?" She questioned, "I can't see! What's going on?"

Your face paled as you began to roughly tug at her legs, accidentally slipping one of her shoes off. "Dammit! A train's coming!"

"I thought there weren't supposed to be any trains seen this place had been closed off!"

"Yeah, well, it's not going to be stopping anytime soon - let me help you, stop kicking!"

Just as Mags was easing herself out of the hole, something made you pause momentarily.

Something tickled your arm, and instantly, you began to mentally freak out. Whatever it was, if you made any sudden movements, you were sure it was going to harm you.

"Ow! Something bit me!"

Never mind.

A burning sensation began to occur on your palm, and it felt as if your skin was falling off. You tried your best to not yell out in pain, since you and Mags were trying your best to get out of the place alive.

"I'm out! Quick! Hurry up, it's coming!"

You snapped your head to look behind you, seeing the lights coming closer. Turning your attention back to what was in front of you, a few metres forward was Mags with her hand extended, waiting for you to grab it.

The train seemed to get closer every second, and you bolted forward, almost tripping over the tracks.

You finally managed to clasp your hand around your friend's, and she hoisted you up immediately.

It was right on time too, because the train violently broke through the large concrete rumble, and continued going ahead at full speed.

The rubble of rocks flew everywhere, causing both you and Mags to fall backwards and to scoot backwards with your hands.

"Oh my goodness." You ran a shaky hand through your hair, which was now messed up. By doing so, a striking pain ran through your arm again, and it brought attention to what happened earlier.

You breathed in through your teeth, as Mags grabbed your hand gently in worry.

"I think it was a spider, but it must have been a pretty nasty one because it hur- gah! Careful!" You snatched your hand away from her grasp, making her stumble out a 'sorry'.

"Let's just get out of here." You frowned at her before walking out of the subway, her footsteps following quick behind.

You stared at your hand curiously, wondering what sort of bug would produce a large wound and sensation like that.

A radioactive spider definitely didn't cross your mind.

---

You ended up cancelling on Miles, and it made you feel terrible since you were really looking forward to your 'hangout'. He had invited you to go rollerblading with him, since he knew you loved it.

What you told him was that you weren't feeling very well, but you promised you would make it up to him.

That bite from a week before, was no ordinary bite. Your daily life was increasingly difficult, from accidentally ripping papers the second you tried to remove it from your own fingers, to climbing walls.

You did put two and two together, and realise that it must have been during that train episode because that's where you first started feeling weird.

Going out for a walk, you hummed the song that was playing through your headphones and looked around at the lights and streets of Brooklyn.

The moment was short lived though, since what happened next was only made aware to you when you heard an extremely high pitched scream. It must have been pretty loud since your headphones are always full volume, which signalled that something was seriously wrong.

You pulled your hoodie down, and carefully removed your headphones to find out what was happening.

Another villain.

And Kid Arachnid - as everyone called him - was saving the city once again. You had never seen him in action up close, and it only took you a few moments to notice that his abilities were the same ones that you had.

Your fingers began to tingle, and you looked down at them, slightly startled at the realisation. Were you just like him? You didn't know, and a small part of you wished you were. It would be interesting becoming a hero and fighting alongside Kid Arachnid.

A loud yell pierced your thoughts again, and you jumped at the sudden sound.

A car was thrown your way, but a string of webs managed to prevent it from going any further.

You looked up to see your saviour, who was now struggling to fight against the person opposing him.

A strong urge to help was almost forcing you to get up and assist him, but your fears held you back.

The villain seemed to have said something to him that alarmed him, because he ended up grabbing you and holding you up.

"Y/N!"

Wait, Y/N? How does he- His voice. I know that voice. Of course I do, I could recognise it a mile away. A mile...

Miles.

Everything that happened next was a blur, and you still couldn't process it. Before you knew it, you were free from the malefactor but in exchange for the well-being of someone else.

"Miles." You whispered, before running over to where he was laying. Almost instantly, you moved him off of the wreckage to make him feel a little more comfortable instead of having sharp rocks digging into his back.

"Miles- are you o-okay?" You managed to cry out. "You didn't have to do that!" You kneeled down to his level, unsure how to treat him.

"I did anyways though, didn't I?" He grinned and stated in a raspy voice. Of course that was his response.

"I-I should have gone to our meetup- maybe then I wouldn't have disappointed you, and left things like this. I-I-It's all my f-fault and-"

"Y/N. It's not your fault. This was bound to happen eventually." He was cut off when he gave out a weak cough.

Your hands shook vigorously as you placed them over Miles' cheek, using one to pull off his mask.

He smiled delicately when he saw you a little clearer, and he pushed the strand of hair that was sticking out behind your ear. "You always did have those little bits of hair pointing out all the time."

Your laugh made the tears that were brimming your eyes fall down on his chin.

Miles' eyes trailed to his stomach, where a large and deep, bleeding cut was held. There was no way he was recovering from that.

Suddenly, he squinted, and a pressure built into your head. It felt like a headache, but it actually felt nice. His eyes widened at you, and he smiled.

"Y-you're like me."

"W-what?"

He didn't reply, and his eyes were beginning to close.

"Miles. Miles! Answer me!" You tried your best to try to shake him awake without damaging him, but he wouldn't wake up. "M-Miles...?"

You stood up carefully.

This happened way too fast. First you get bitten by a radioactive spider, next your crush, best friend and also the city's super hero dies in your arms.

You couldn't even cry anymore, because you were still processing what had just happened. The villain was still on the loose.

Of course, at this point, you were fully aware that what ever caused Miles to be as skilled as he was, also got you.

It was a spider.

You dug your fingers into your fist until your knuckles turned white.

If there isn't going to be anymore Kid Arachnid, then there needed to be someone else to be there for him. Not to take his place, but rather, in his memory.

An idea started to form into your mind.

Chapter 1 >

[outerbankswriting]

Could it be? Chapter 11 (JJ x Reader)

JJ x Reader

CH.1 - CH.2 - CH.3 - CH.4 - CH.5 - CH.6 - CH.7 - CH.8 - CH.9 - CH.10

Description: She has a crush on JJ, but he has always seen her as another one of the “dudes”, or  at least that’s what she thinks so she just doesn’t even try anymore, until things start to shift between the two of them. (A/N: I’M NOT GOOD AT DESCRIPTIONS BUT THESE IS JUST WHAT I WOULD LOVE TO HAPPEN IN OUTER BANKS WITH JJ)

A/N: THIS CHAPTER GOT DELETED BC TUMBLR WANTED TO MAKE ME CRY FOR A BIT SO I HAD TO REPOST..

Warnings: mentions of sexual trauma

CHAPTER 11

You shot a glance at Sarah once she finished spilling all your business. You watched as she gave you an innocent smile after realising you didn’t want everyone to know about Rafe yet.

“Look, I can explain alright?” You sighed as you reached for a beer. It was going to be a long day.

“Please do.” Kie muttered, raising her eyebrow at you.

You looked at JJ who was staring straight into your eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was hurt or angry but either of those options made your stomach twist.

“He promised that if I faked it for a night, he would leave all of us alone which means th-”

“And you believed him?” Pope was quick to cut you off.

“Why would you even trust Rafe Cameron in the first place?” John B added.

“If you would all stop interrupting me, then maybe I would be able to clear your doubts.” You spat coldly at your friends.

“Go on then.” Kie nodded.

“It’s just for the night, so he can be on the clear with his father and have no problems whatsoever,” you bit your lip, “after that I’m completely done with him.”

The silence was broken by JJ’s sarcastic laugh, making you immediately stare at his movements.

“Well I think it’s bullshit,” he gulped down his beer before standing up, “and if you’re trusting Rafe Cameron, then you can’t be trusted either.”

His words hit you like a thousand knives on the chest.

He definitely felt betrayed by you but his anger was stronger than the pain he was feeling. He tossed the empty beer on the sand, ignoring Kie’s complaining and gave you a final glare before walking away from the group.

“JJ,” you sighed and rushed to walk towards him, ignoring whatever your friends were complaining about as well, “JJ wait!”

You tried to walk faster towards him but the sand wasn’t letting you catch up to his pace.

“JJ stop!” You yelled a little louder but he kept walking.

You decided to run towards him, ignoring how ridiculous you looked trying to run in the sand for trying to chase a guy.

“JJ let me talk to you.” You grabbed his arm making him turn to face you.

His eyes drifted to the sea, not bothering to look at yours.

He was stubborn and you knew him too well to know how whenever he gets angry, his mind becomes clouded with his own thoughts, not bothering to listen or try to understand anything.

“Do you honestly think I want to talk to you right now?” He spat out.

But he was not the only stubborn one here, you were not going to let him leave without first making him listen to you.

“I want you to listen.”

“I don’t want to listen.” His jaw clenched and he pulled his arm away from you.

You were starting to get annoyed but you couldn’t blame him for feeling this way.

“JJ stop walking away from me!”

“You listen to me!” He raised his voice at you as he walked closer to you, your eyes starting to water at his actions, “I cannot trust you if you keep lying to my face!”

“I never lied to you JJ!”

“You said you were not going back to him!”

“I’m not!”

“Then why the fuck are you going as his girlfriend to the stupid party?!”

His eyes were filled with anger and your face probably looked like the one of a scared puppy since JJ’s features softened at the realisation of how loud he was raising his voice at you and how he was projecting his anger.

“I just can’t believe how you can still trust him after everything he’s done.” He lowered his voice but the anger still hadn’t left him.

“Nothing’s going to happen between us JJ,” you slowly walked closer to him, afraid he was going to walk away at any second, “I’m not going to let it happen.”

JJ licked his lips while shaking his head in frustration, he tried to avoid eye contact with you but failed once you softly caressed his cheek, making him calm down a bit.

“If that asshole lays a finger on you, I promise I’m going to kill him.” He muttered as his breathing got slower.

“Sarah is going to be there,” you said and grabbed his hand, “and so will my parents JJ. It’s just one night and then Rafe will be out of our lives.”

His eyes softened as you kept caressing his cheek and holding his hand. You watched as he slightly nodded, knowing he was still not trusting Rafe.

“Let’s go home okay?” You whispered before giving him a light kiss.

The two of you went to your house, not really bothering on letting your friends know you weren’t going back to the beach. You were probably going to send a text later to Kie explaining her everything. Right now all you cared about was calming JJ down and letting him know things were going to be alright.

Once you were in the comfort of your bedroom you decided to grab some beers from the fridge to loosen up a bit and forget the tension that had built a few minutes ago.

You knew JJ was still upset and angry since he wasn’t really talking.

“Last to finish their beer has to cook dinner.” You playfully winked at him before taking a big gulp of your beer.

You noticed JJ take a sip of his beer, not really following your little game to cheer things up.

“JJ come on,” you sat down on the bed next to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night.”

“It’s not only that Y/N,” he said softly this time, “it’s the fact you always tell me your relationship with him was bad and I know there’s something about him you’ve been hiding from me.”

You didn’t know what to say so you just stared at your bed covers.

“Do you see?” JJ went on, “How can I trust you completely if you can’t even trust me?”

“I do trust you JJ,” you sighed, “I just,”

You took a deep breath, thinking about the right way to tell him.

“I have never talked about this to anyone because it scares me.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he moved closer to you.

“What do you mean Y/N?” He softly grabbed your hand.

“I just don’t know how to say it.” Your voice trembled and you felt your eyes start to tear up, JJ immediately cupping your face.

“Hey Y/N,” he whispered, “you can trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

You stared at his eyes while letting a few tears fall down your face. The two of you had already seen each other at your most vulnerable times and that’s what had made you feel so close to him.

You knew you had to tell JJ, you knew it was time to let it out, even if it scared you and even if you knew JJ would probably lose his shit.

You took a deep breath.

“I didn’t really want to do it with him,” your voice was low and soft and you noticed JJ’s jaw clench as he realised what you were talking about, “but I didn’t know how to tell him.”

You fought back the tears as you remembered the first time you had sex with Rafe and how you knew you weren’t ready but he somehow convinced you.

“It’s not like I told him I didn’t want to,” your voice trembled again, “I just let him do it because he was my boyfriend at the time even though I didn’t want to, and after the first time I didn’t want to do it again, but when I told him he got mad at me and he started hanging out with other girls so I just,”

You paused to stare at JJ, his eyes were once again filled with anger but there were also tears in them. His hand was still holding yours tightly, giving you the trust and confidence to keep going.

“I just did it again with him until I learnt to kind of enjoy it I guess? But there were more times I didn’t want to do it than times I did want to, and it just haunts me.”

You let the tears fall down as you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

“JJ?” You asked once you noticed he remained silent, his eyes filled with tears and not leaving yours.

“That piece of shit.” He muttered as he trembled with rage.

“JJ,”

“I’m going to kill him.” He spat out coldly.

“JJ I told you this because I trust you, please,” you cupped his face, “stay out of this.”

“Are you kidding me Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “My fist on his face is the least I could to him to make him pay for what he did.”

“He never forced me to do it.”

“But he manipulated you Y/N.”

“I know that now,” you sighed, “but I didn’t know that back then.”

He nodded and bit his lip but you grabbed his face and made him stare straight into your eyes.

“I’m a different person now JJ, I’ve learnt from it.”

Just when his tears were about to fall down his face, he wrapped his arms around you, making you let out all the tears you were fighting back and feeling safe in his embrace.

“I will never hurt you Y/N,” he sobbed against your neck, “I’ll always take care of you.”

You weren’t even able to let out the words you wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him how much you loved him but the words just wouldn’t come out because of your loud sobbing.

“I’ll be there.” He whispered once he let go of the embrace and cupped your face.

“What are you talking about?” You asked while wiping away the last tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m going to the party and I’ll be watching over you and I don’t care if your parents hate me for that.”

You smiled with tears in your eyes before nodding and softly placing your lips against his.

———————-

CH.12

A/N: I touched a pretty sensitive topic this chapter and I really want to talk about this. unwanted consensual sex (also known as gray zone sex) is a thing that happens to so many people and it’s not talked about enough. one of my closest friends experienced this and it has affected her sexual relationships deeply. if you’ve ever been through something like this please know that you’re not alone and you can always talk to me. you should never feel pressured to do sexual intercourse or any other sexual activities by anyone, not even your partner.

sorry for all the mess that’s been going on with my tumblr, I honestly don’t know what happened but tumblr support apparently already fixed it...

thank u so much if you’re still reading this story, means a lot!

——————–

[inkribbon796]

Not So Baby Brother

Summary: Tubbo is trying desperately to bury his past, if only everyone around him wasn’t interested in digging back up in front of him.

A/N: Warning for hinted child abuse and endangerment. Both to Tubbo, Puffy, Schlatt, and to Michael. I try to keep the majority of it off screen or undetailed but it’s still there. These events coupled with his time with the SMP makes Tubbo in this AU who he is in the present. Which is emotionally withdrawn and prone to pushing people away.

Tubbo in the first flashback was about four, while Schlatt and Puffy were about 10.

~::~ 13 Years Ago ~::~

Tubbo was in his bed, hiding under the covers, hands over his ears as he heard the arguing and smashing of things across the house. The little four year old was so scared and he didn’t know what to do.

Then his door opened and Tubbo hiccuped in fear. He tried to stay quiet and still, hoping that if he did the person would just leave him alone.

A hand came down where his shoulder was.

Tubbo flinched.

“Tubster? You awake?”

The little boy let out a breath of relief, it was his big brother. Still scared, Tubbo peeked his head out from underneath the covers to see both his siblings there: Schlatt and Puffy.

Schlatt looked bad but he still smiled at Tubbo. “Hey don’t cry, c’mere[1].”

Tubbo was already crawling his way over to Schlatt and crying, and he couldn’t stop.

“C’mon,[2] you know what he’s gonna[3] do if he catches you crying,” Schlatt tried to calm him down.

Puffy came to sit next to them, her own eyes wet. Schlatt slightly rocked Tubbo to try and comfort him.

“Hey, T-Man,” Schlatt tried to soothe him. “Kinda[4] loud isn’t it?”

“We’ve got you,” Schlatt held Tubbo tightly, the younger brother still shaking and sobbing. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Tubbo nodded his head, clutching onto his brother. A little embrace of safety for a young boy whose life was so turbulent and scary. Tonight nothing would hurt, and that was what mattered to the young boy.

~::~ Present Day ~::~

“I was just thinking about it Tubbo . . . we like to have fun.”

“Schlatt, I can’t get out.”

“I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Uh, what have I been up to?”

“Everyone knows what you’ve been up to!”

“Do you know what we do to traitors, Tubbo?”

“. . . No?”

“Techno, you wanna come up here for a second?”

“Let’s just send a message, real quick.”

“Techno, if you would be so kind.”

“Murder him right now, on this fucking stage, and make it hurt!”

“Tubbo, I’m sorry, I’ll make it quick.”

“Techno, what the hell!”

“Wilbur!”

Tubbo shot up in bed, his eyes wild and heart racing. He was disoriented at first, expecting himself to be in some hole somewhere, still in pain after pulling himself together from a discorporation and desperate to escape before Schlatt found him again.

Tubbo surged out of bed, trying to get away.

Then he heard ruffling behind him and disgruntled child sobs.

And Tubbo came back to himself, he looked back to see Michael crying and Ranboo sitting up in his own bed. Tubbo mentally chastised himself.

“Mikey? Daddy’s sorry, did I wake you up?” Tubbo walked back to his bed, his pace quickening when Michael reached up and made grabby hands towards Tubbo.

Ranboo was already getting out of his bed and walking over to them. He looked like he was going to collapse in a heap of limbs on the floor. “Hmmm,” Ranboo hummed.

The two-toned teen stopped right outside the bed and gestured with his tail, “Can I join?”

Tubbo scooted over a bit, and Ranboo sat down as Tubbo tried to rock and soothe their adopted son. Ranboo making little cooing and odd vwoop noises, while Tubbo was humming some lullaby, that helped Michael fall back asleep with the familiarity.

A little family the two teens had carved for themselves.

Tubbo and Ranboo had found the small boy thrown away by some demon hunter as a “disappointing failure” and after Tubbo left Ranboo to tend to the scared and crying boy, Tubbo went to “fetch the adoption papers” and the mage was never seen again. Ranboo didn’t question what Tubbo had done but they took the boy, bundled him up in Tubbo’s jacket and got the boy some food before taking him into the Bee ‘n Boo before spending the next couple hours finishing the attic store room and Ranboo used their downstairs storage for all the establishment’s storage.

That day Ranboo busied himself around their bed and breakfast as Tubbo kept the boy entertained and fed. Michael immediately bonded with Tubbo, and Ranboo found himself falling in love with the boy as well.

The attic was immediately barred from all entry that wasn’t either of the owners. Tubbo made the announcement and was very firm. Beforehand it was frequently used as a temporary living space for Ranboo and Tubbo and they just didn’t want anyone in their personal space anymore.

Which was true but now Michael was there and Tubbo desperately didn’t want people like Quackity and Techno to find out about Michael quite yet. The boy had been through enough and . . . Tubbo wanted a little slice of peace.

He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

Right?

And it certainly didn’t help that bonds and possessions were treated like weaknesses to be exploited and used as currency. Sapnap and Dream had long since set a precedent for that.

So as Tubbo sat in the dark attic bedroom, holding his son in his arms, he pushed down his fear and focused on Michael, who needed him right now.

Soon the little boy was back asleep, tucked back into bed, and Tubbo threw up his arms. He got up because, after his nightmare, there was no way he was getting back to sleep.

So Tubbo changed into his suit and made sure he wasn’t wearing his horns before he left to go down to the staff lounge for a coffee.

“Tubs,” Ranboo called out, shifting in his suit and looking human. “You okay?”

“Yeah, go back ta[5] bed, bossman,” Tubbo dismissed.

“You sure, you’ve got a big day, and we got a lot to do here,” Ranboo looked uneasy.

Tubbo didn’t trust his voice at first, but when he did he told him, “Go back ta[5] bed. I’m grabbing a coffee.”

“Oh, okay,” Ranboo looked away and slowly went back into the room. Tubbo knew he wasn’t going to go back to sleep. But at least it gave Tubbo time to clear his head.

After three coffees, four hours of paperwork, and bullshiting around with Tommy for a bit; Tubbo was overjoyed to put on his Bomble Bee costume and start running around town with Tommy like a maniac.

It was freeing, the suit went on and he wasn’t Tubbo anymore. He was free.

Logic and Jackie were less than enthused to find them by themselves, and Tubbo didn’t appreciate the babysitter, but at least Logan didn’t talk down to Tubbo during it.

They went on a patrol around Brighton, and they were halfway through when Logan brought something up, “You have a sister?”

Tubbo flipped up his visor to glare at Logan, “Thought we agreed family wasn’t shit?”

“There was no agreement on that matter, that was merely a comment you made,” Logic sighed. “If you feel unsafe around your blood related family that is one thing, but demon magic or not you are still underage and the Coalition is bound to follow the law as far as it is actually protecting people.”

“I legally emancipated,” Tubbo countered, flicking his visor back down. “Tommy’s an idiot who doesn’t know how ta[5] do shit. I don’t need anyone ta[5] sign anything fer[6] me.”

“Do you have copies of those legal documents?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, at the BnB,” Tubbo told him. “You wanna pop on over?”[7]

“There’s no rush at the moment, you can email me those tonight when you get home,” Logan offered Tubbo an out. “However, I would like to know the nature of your relationship with your family. You don’t need to go into detail, I trust you had your reasons for emancipation if that was the route you chose to follow.”

“Don’t talk with my parents, if you can call ‘em[8] that, and I haven’t fer[6] years, I only really talk ta[5] my older sister?” Tubbo told him. “She lives in Gainesville with her girlfriend.”

“Are you on good terms with her?” Logan asked. “I wouldn’t want you in communication with someone who is hostile emotionally or physically to you or your family.”

“Nah, she’s alright, she’s part ‘a[9] the Server though, you wanna[10] meet her?” Tubbo smiled.

Logan thought on that, “We might want to send some kind of warning if we go over. Last I checked, several of them had sent me death threats. Does your sister know you’re working with us?”

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo lifted himself up with his bumble bee wings, looking quite proud of himself. “I got several pissed off texts from some ‘a[9] the guys after they saw me an’[11] Big Man on the news. It was great, Quackity screamed at me fer[6] at least five minutes.”

“Are you certain you will be safe when you visit your sister?” Logan asked again.

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo promised. “Come on.”

The logical Side continued to ask questions, letting Tubbo use his phone to send a supervised text to his sister: Puffy. Then they started making their way over.

When they got to the condo Puffy lived at, Tubbo didn’t even knock. In fact he practically kicked the door open.

“Puffy!” Tubbo cupped his hands over his ears and called into the townhouse, calling out at the top of his lungs. “You fuckin’[12] Niki in here?”

“Fuck you, Tubbo! You little gremlin piece ‘a[9] shit!” Someone shouted from upstairs.

Tubbo chuckled and announced loudly, “I bought company.”

“Hide the good kush[13]!” Someone else yelled and Tubbo laughed even more.

“Hey Hannah,” Tubbo greeted as he walked in and motioned for Logan to follow him. “Alyssa in?”

“Don’t care,” Hannah was on her phone, sitting in an armchair. “She’s probably off with Callahan.”

“Yeah, prolly[14],” Tubbo replied. He started walking towards the kitchen, he quietly motioned for Logan to follow him.

Tubbo immediately went for the fridge, leaving Logan to just look around the little space. It was obviously lived in, and on the far wall were some pictures of several women with various people Logan recognized as being from the Server. But there was one almost hidden, almost completely tucked behind a bowl full of different colored rocks. It was a small framed picture in the corner of the kitchen, almost hidden from view, of a much younger Tubbo surrounded by some people that Logan didn’t recognize.

Logan didn’t have long to inspect the photos and start making inferences that he would most likely never ask, because someone stomped into the kitchen.

She had fluffy hair that was a chestnut brown on one side, and white on the other. Flecks of rainbow hairs interspersed on both halves. She was one of the people in the picture, Logan quickly realized. She resembled Tubbo a little bit, and on prolonged examination, Logan noticed that her fluffy hair was hiding a set of thick, curled ram horns. The kind that looked capable of crushing someone’s skull if they made an impact.

Logan figured that Tubbo’s would probably look like that in a couple years, just a bit more like a goat’s.

Tubbo glanced at her before asking, “Where are those rad fuckin’ ice lollies yeh bought?”[15]

“You took them last week for Michael,” Puffy snapped.

“Ohhh, yeah, he loved those,” Tubbo smiled, closing the freezer. He gave her a smug look. “So you didn’t buy more then?”

“No,” she gave him the stink eye. Then she glanced at Logan. “Who’s your friend?”

“Pardon me,” Logan spoke up. “My name is Logic, from the Coalition, I believe I texted you a little bit ago.”

“Yeah, I did get something,” Puffy agreed hesitantly. “Who’s this?”

“My mentor,” Tubbo pointed at Logic as he closed the fridge

“Huhhh,” Puffy hummed. “Hey, Tubbo, why don’t you go into the next room and watch some Adventure Time?”

“Don’t kill him,” Tubbo told her pointedly.

“And take that fight from Bad and Big Q, are you insane?” Puffy told him. “Oh, wait, you build bombs, of course you are.”

Tubbo held up two fingers, his middle and index, and flipped her off before walking off.

“You asshole!” Puffy told him and Tubbo was already cackling in laughter. When he’d completely turned his back, Puffy rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ehhh, he’s a good kid.

“He is,” Logan agreed, “Tubbo is intelligent and resourceful. Even if he is threatening to set off explosives under the guise of experimentation.”

“Yep, that’s Tubs alright,” Puffy chuckled. “He always liked figuring out how stuff worked, even as a little kid. He’s like a baby mad scientist.”

“Excuse you, I am a full blown mad scientist, I e’en[16] have the arrest record ta[5] prove it!” Tubbo boasted from the other room.

“From what Tubbo has told me, you seem to approve of him working with us,” Logan commented.

“Hell yeah,” Puffy told him, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “Between Ranboo, the Bee ‘n Boo, and working with you guys; Tubbo’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

“That is good,” Logan agreed. “Tubbo’s mental and physical well-being is of primary importance.”

“You talk like a textbook, you sure you’re not a robot?” Puffy asked.

“I do not classify as an inorganic being,” Logan answered.

“Sure you don’t,” Puffy smiled. “So what brings you to the neighborhood? I’m guessing you didn’t come over just to stand in our kitchen and look like Apple’s version of Robocop?”

“No, that’s not the reason I came to visit,” Logan agreed. “The Coalition prefers, if possible, to have a good working relationship with the families of our apprentices. So that in the case of emergencies they can be notified. While I am glad you and Tubbo seem to have a positive relationship, the more important question is are there any safety risks that any other members of your family would pose to Tubbo or his family?”

Puffy looked uneasy, “What has he told you?”

“Not much,” the logical Side admitted. “I haven’t known him for long enough, but when I asked him about his extraneous family, Tubbo mentioned he was emancipated, and that he was not in communication with his parents. He only mentioned you, and I have seen his son once.”

“We had an older brother,” Puffy frowned, looking over at the half-hidden picture. “Started turning into a demon around the same time as Tubbo and I, and he was . . .”

She looked down, “Well he was the type of demon you keep your kids away from, and I wasn’t there to keep my eyes on them.”

“That must have been a difficult experience for everyone,” Logan tried to offer his sympathies.

Puffy looked in the direction of the hidden picture, “I should have been there, it would have never happened if Phil and I had been there to stop them. But the real problem is Dream has something that can apparently restore a demon. I don’t know how thorough it is, or if it’s just something he tells Tommy and the others to make them afraid of what he can do. But he apparently needs some of the original demon’s essence or aura and both Schlatt and Will left those behind. Wilbur left Ghostbur behind, and Quackity cremated everything but Schlatt’s heart and five of his bones. Meaning if Dream gets his hands on even one of those bones then he could, if he does have that power, bring Schlatt back any time he wanted. And I’d ask you to get those bones from Quackity and Dream but that means going into the Server and there’s no way Dream would allow you in. Just, if Wilbur and Schlatt come back, promise me you’ll keep those three safe?”

“With my life,” Logan promised. “The death and manipulation of children are unacceptable.”

Puffy smiled, a breathy little snort coming from her, “You know, I always heard that legates were buttfuck insane. Glad to know you’re not.”

“I am not in the Coalition for fame and vainglory. Others might be, but I strive to make the world a better place, and such can only happen through the acquisition of knowledge and reason over fear. Of fact over fiction. Tubbo is, despite his demon aura and insistence to the contrary, still a child. And regardless of all of that he is a person who deserves to be in a safe and loving environment.”

“Yeah the Server’s never been that kind to minors,” Puffy scoffed. “It’s kinda[4] like taking a box of kittens and turning them into robotic war machines. Tubbo and Purpled just took to it better than the others.”

“How many minors are in the Server still?” Logan was concerned. The trio the heroes were dealing with already had their pasts marred by trauma and death, he’d never considered there were others still trapped in the same unsafe environment.

“You have three,” Puffy began counting. “Quackity still has Purpled and Fundy in Las Nevadas so they’re doing slightly better than they were before when they were working directly under Dream. You guys also got Jack, who just turned nineteen. But I would not trust Jack alone with Tommy, he threatened to kill him several times.”

“Thank you for the information,” Logan told her. “Anything else you can tell me about the other two minors?”

“So, Purpled is from a league of assassins and he loves money too much to defect,” Puffy dismissed. “You’d need to start paying him the big bucks to make him switch sides and Quackity already gave a good price. While Dream is paying his older brother through the nose to keep him out of Quackity’s hands as well. Punz is older than me though, so if Purpled went anywhere else it would be back with him. But Fundy is a different story. He’s Wilbur’s spawnling and Fundy is kinda[4] a basket case already. If you can get him away from Quackity, good, but I don’t imagine he’d go all that easily and Big Q’s only gonna[3] clamp down harder on him. Fundy and Tubbo were kinda[4] the server mascots back in the day since they were the babies of the group.”

“Everyone loved Tubbo,” Puffy smiled fondly before frowning sadly. “But that’s not the case anymore. He’s made himself a lot of enemies.”

“I see, thank you, I will relay the message to the others and we’ll do what we can for them,” Logan promised.

Puffy came off of the counter. “Thanks, no one in the Server really thought twice about those kids, they kinda[4] just tossed ‘em[8] around and personally I’m really glad you got the ones you do out of there. All three of ‘em[8] have been through enough.”

Then she went to poke her head out of the kitchen. “Tubbo, take yer friend and get out of my house, I don’t want you in here while we’re out.”

“Sure,” Tubbo kicked his feet up and already started for the front door. “Whate’er, go back ta snoggin’ yer girlfriend, I’ve got shit ta blow up.”[17]

And he was out, leaving Logan to immediately rush off after him, which got both of them out of the condo. Puffy watching them with a smile.

Tubbo, as it turns out, did not make good on his explosion test threats, he continued on his patrol, and then went back home to the Bee ‘n Boo. Walking in with a suit and his usual business-friendly smile. Logan, meanwhile, returned to the base to communicate with, especially Ethan, about what he had heard from Tubbo’s sister.

To clear his mind, Tubbo immediately went into his apiary to make sure his bees were alright. Which is exactly where Ranboo found Tubbo.

“Hey, Tubs,” Ranboo smiled and Tubbo managed a small smile back.

“Hey, bossman,” Tubbo was looking at him through the fringe of his hair, “how have things been?”

“Been alright,” Ranboo sat next to Tubbo, crossing his legs as he sat down. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tubbo denied, trying to ignore what had happened in the morning.

“Because,” Ranboo mentally halted, “this morning you screamed and you looked really scared, and I didn’t know how to help.”

“C’mon,[2] big man, I’m fine,” Tubbo lied. “E’eryone[18] has the occasional nightmares, I was just jumpy. Happens ta[5] e’eryone[18].”

“Y—” Ranboo looked away. “Yeah, I guess, but you know you can talk to me? Right?”

“Yeah, of course, same fer[6] you,” Tubbo told him, both teens knowing that they kept secrets from each other.

“I’m thinking,” Tubbo redirected, “pizza fer dinner. Wanna order somethin’?”[19]

“Sure, yeah,” Ranboo agreed and after Tubbo finished caring for the apiary, and the pizza was delivered, they both retired to their dwelling and Michael was very happy to settle down with both his dads for the night. The little boy stuffing his face with pizza, and trying to feed some to his stuffed toy chicken. The three of them watched cartoons until Michael fell asleep and Tubbo tucked him into bed.

Tubbo and Ranboo hoped that tomorrow would be a better day for all three of them.

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. come here

2. come on

3. going to

4. kind of

5. to

6. for

7. You want to head on over?

8. them

9. of

10. want to

11. and

12. fucking

13. weed

14. probably

15. Where are those really fuckin’ good ice lollies [popsicles] you bought?

16. even

17. Whatever, go back to kissing your girlfriend, I’ve got shit to blow up.

18. Everyone

19. pizza for dinner. Want to order something?

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 9/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him. 

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 1,612

"You're not unhappy that we bonded, right?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"If I was I wouldn't be curled up in bed right now after letting you fuck my brains out."

Steve smirked.

"I think you were the one doing the fucking. I just laid there while you rode me."

"Yeah, but next time I'm gonna make you do all the work and I'm just gonna lay there and be the pillow princess. Let my Alpha take care of me," Tony said, his fingers trailing down Steve's chest and a sultry pout on his lips. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you, Alpha?"

"You know I'd do anything to please you, baby."

"I know, because you're such a good boy," Tony murmured, kissing him. "Mm, as much as I'd love to stick around and let you fuck me on every surface in your apartment, I really have to get going or I'm gonna be late."

"I'll drive you," Steve offered.

"You're sweet, but no, I'm good. If I take you with me I'm just gonna end up fucking you in the break room and then the manager is gonna be an asshole about it."

Steve growled.

"I hate that guy more every time you talk about him."

Tony hummed, kissing him again.

"Yeah, well, I think most bosses disapprove of fucking in the employee's room. Even the not asshole ones.

"No, I don't mean that. We definitely can't do that, no matter how much I like the idea of you bossing me around at your work. I just think this Obie guy sounds like the worst and every time I've run into him just confirms that."

Tony didn't even try to disagree with that assessment.

"Like last week when he gave you shit for having to leave early because of your heat. There are laws in place to protect Omegas from being forced to work while in heat, but you practically had to beg him for the days off and then apologize for not being able to work and he still gave you shit about it. Then he had the audacity to act like he had done you some great favor and made you work extra shifts to make up for it. He didn't even pay you overtime, even though he made you work like sixty hours."

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're getting yourself all worked up about it and I don't want that. I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I love that you're so protective. Which is honestly something I never thought I'd say, but you need to take a deep breath. I've got it all under control."

Steve tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down like his Omega told him to, but it didn't do much to alleviate his anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just wish you didn't have to deal with him."

"Well, I won't have to for much longer."

Steve frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Tony shifted on his lap, looking down at his lap nervously.

"Well, I was actually gonna tell you about this, but we've just been so caught up in our own little bubble and I didn't want to burst it by bringing up legal stuff. Besides, I almost forgot about it with all the newly mated hormones rushing through me," Tony rambled.

"Tony, love, just tell me."

"We tried to get Obie fired, but the owner, Alexander Pierce, was backing him, so we're taking him to court. They've been doing a whole bunch of shady stuff that's totally illegal, from paying people off to pass inspections and dealing drugs out back in the alley, to denying us health insurance, making us work overtime but not paying us overtime, and usually they make the Omegas work during heat. I think Obie only gave in this time, because he thought you might beat his ass if he called me in for work."

There was an amused smile on Tony's face, but he was looking at Steve, worried about his reaction. Steve was furious, but not at Tony. He knew that Obie was an asshole, but he had no idea just how bad it really was.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have let you work for a guy like that. I'm your Alpha. I should have protected you, provided for you so you didn't have to work-"

"Hey, no, stop," Tony told him. "I love you so much, Alpha, but I don't want that. This was my battle to fight and I wasn't about to let you take that away from me. I've been dealing with this bullshit for years and now I'm finally changing things. You have to let me do this."

Steve felt awed by his little Omega. So much strength wrapped up in such a small little package it was unbelievable, and to think he was all Steve's. Steve kissed him, hard and lingering.

"I would never take that away from you, Tony. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that, pretty Omega."

A shy smile crept onto Tony's face and his cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you, Alpha. That means a lot, and I mean, there's no guarantee that the next person who buys the place will be any better than Pierce, or that they will hire us all on again. There's really no guarantee anybody will buy the place anytime soon. Realistically, it'll probably be bulldozed and turned into a parking lot for the diner next door or something like that. We all know that we're probably gonna lose our jobs, but it's worth it to do the right thing and put Pierce behind bars."

Steve nodded, licking his lips and considering how to say what he wanted to say in a way that wouldn't offend Tony.

"You know that I think you're so strong and I'm so proud of you for doing this, right?"

Tony bit his lip, nodding uncertainly.

He wasn't sure where Steve was going with this.

"I think it's amazing that you're gonna do this and that you want to do this and I'll support you in this in any way that I can," Steve told him earnestly. "I know that this is your fight, Tony, and I would never take that away from you, but if you'll let me, I'd love to fight alongside you."

Tony broke out in a grin, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck.

"Yes! Oh my God, yes!" Tony squealed. "Fuck, you scared me there. I thought you were gonna say something awful, but I should have known you'd just say something charming and perfect."

Steve blushed, but he was grinning too.

"Right, well, you see, the thing is Tony that I have a lot of money-"

Tony pulled back, raising a brow at him.

" You have a lot of money. You , the eighteen year old artist and former virgin until I seduced your ass Alpha, has a lot of money?" Tony asked him, clearly amused and not believing him one bit. "Tell me, pretty boy, what do you consider a lot of money? The twenty dollar allowance your mommy gives every Saturday?"

Steve glared at him, but there wasn't any heat in it. If anything he was just really embarrassed and really turned on.

"Sam helped me out a lot when I was a kid. He helped me turn my life around and he helped get my art into some galleries. He's got this friend, an ex of his, Pepper Potts. She's like a brilliant business woman and she runs her own company, but she also has a few major art galleries where she displays art from some of the most prominent artists in the states. I'm talking big shots, well known artists that make hundreds of thousands of dollars selling one painting."

Tony was just staring at him, like he was having a hard time figuring out if this was just some elaborate joke or not.

"Steve... what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that she saw some of my work, loved it, and put it up in her galleries. I've only sold a handful, but I've made a lot of money. Your bar is not that great, no offense, and I don't really spend much of my money other than for, like, rent and groceries, so there's a lot of it just sitting around. We could probably just buy the bar. That is if you want to be an owner of a bar."

Steve swallowed hard and fidgeted nervously with the bottom of Tony's shirt when he didn't respond. Tony was just shocked and pretty sure he was dreaming.

"I'm sorry, what? You're joking, right?" Tony said in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you have hundreds of thousands of dollars just lying around?"

Steve squirmed under Tony.

"I mean, not literally. It's all in the bank. Most of it's in my savings account since it earns more interest that way-"

"Shut up, I don't care about that," Tony said, cutting off his nervous rambling. "Are you for real? You have that kind of money and you'd be willing to let me buy a bar with it?"

Steve bit his lip.

"Yeah, I mean, Tony, I'd do anything for you. So if you want a bar then I'll buy you a bar. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's a huge deal!"

Steve wasn't sure if he was upset or excited, but then Tony was wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Fuck, I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tony groaned against his lips.

Steve nodded, whimpering into his mouth when Tony kissed him again.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts. 

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs​ for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure. 

--

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there. 

Easily in the top three. 

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days. 

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint. 

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it. 

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?” 

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?” 

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory. 

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand. 

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks. 

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?” 

“Peter…” 

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?” 

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.” 

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs. 

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh. 

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month. 

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter. 

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate. 

But Peter can’t help himself. 

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much. 

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of. 

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion. 

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask. 

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books. 

Peter nods. 

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances. 

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back. 

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully. 

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save. 

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly. 

Nice save. 

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly. 

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

--

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits. 

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?” 

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?” 

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.” 

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone. 

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for. 

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over. 

No, it’s more the placement. 

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples. 

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at. 

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation. 

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.” 

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.” 

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs. 

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead. 

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on. 

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer. 

And then, her phone dings. 

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up. 

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun. 

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it. 

“What did you say?” Michelle asks. 

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.” 

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.” 

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle. 

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager. 

But then, he completely throws them for another loop. 

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.” 

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised. 

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs. 

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.” 

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand. 

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.” 

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.” 

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.” 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” 

“How much did you put in?” 

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop. 

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.” 

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is. 

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.” 

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites. 

The guy likes porn. 

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going. 

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website. 

Easy enough. 

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps. 

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all. 

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual. 

And now, she waits. 

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long. 

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner. 

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn. 

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done. 

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it. 

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch. 

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed. 

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles. 

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?” 

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe. 

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more. 

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious. 

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods. 

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode. 

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug. 

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it. 

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question. 

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not. 

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him. 

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do. 

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea. 

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea. 

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow. 

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over. 

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?” 

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.” 

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort. 

They’re perfect. 

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it. 

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen. 

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important. 

Just as she’d planned. 

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face. 

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched. 

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice. 

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…” 

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in. 

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent. 

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget. 

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery. 

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.” 

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck. 

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table. 

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever. 

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word. 

Huh. Weird.

--

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this. 

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time. 

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact. 

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird. 

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one. 

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest. 

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him. 

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself. 

Peter swallows. 

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap. 

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind. 

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way. 

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

--

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here? 

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair. 

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there. 

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming. 

He must be ready. 

--

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next. 

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling. 

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation. 

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself. 

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one. 

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated. 

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing? 

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm. 

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction. 

Click. 

And then, she’s got the shot. 

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots. 

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line. 

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference. 

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes. 

God, all of this was a terrible idea. 

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.” 

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process. 

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up. 

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero. 

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position. 

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic. 

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. 

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled. 

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor. 

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?” 

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.” 

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his. 

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories. 

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more. 

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction. 

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first. 

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling. 

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin. 

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted. 

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it. 

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it. 

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea. 

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern. 

“What is it, Em?” 

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly. 

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again. 

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.” 

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?” 

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing. 

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?” 

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands. 

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized. 

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.” 

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.” 

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.” 

“You put her up to that?!” 

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth. 

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies. 

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.” 

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin. 

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels. 

She only shrugs. 

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move. 

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?” 

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.” 

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly. 

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college. 

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever. 

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that. 

The power it has. 

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing. 

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later. 

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.” 

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck. 

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her. 

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that. 

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest. 

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place. 

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this. 

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in. 

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss. 

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November. 

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly. 

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes. 

Probably none of it. 

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer. 

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones. 

Or, one in particular. 

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah. 

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?” 

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring. 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.” 

“Probably,” she snorts. 

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh. 

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness. 

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly. 

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe. 

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights. 

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do. 

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast. 

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her. 

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs. 

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be. 

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already. 

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again. 

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up. 

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers. 

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out. 

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too. 

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face. 

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure. 

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is. 

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes. 

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass. 

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now. 

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful. 

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now. 

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell. 

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” 

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one. 

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down. 

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it. 

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in. 

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place. 

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her. 

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised. 

Or that she minds. 

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone. 

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again. 

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her. 

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of her. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room. 

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?” 

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too. 

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him. 

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy. 

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it. 

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs. 

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”