#would be having someone who actually knows what you will like. who is like confident that they know what you will like

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　NOT AN UBER DRIVER

⋆౨ৎ˚ — matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where a very much drunk Y/N, glasses-less, and leaving a party, hops into what she thinks is her Uber, only to be greeted by Matt, a cute guy who is definitely not her Uber driver.

WARNING: Being drunk, feeling sick.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I saw this TikTok last week and thought 'why not?', it felt like a funny idea, so I hope yall like it 🤍.

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The bass thumped through the pavement, the kind of deep, rolling sound that reverberated in her bones and made the ground feel unsteady beneath her feet.

Or maybe that was just the tequila. Hard to tell.

Either way, the party was starting to blur together, flashes of neon lights, the distant echo of laughter, the lingering scent of something vaguely sweet and smoky in the air.

Y/N blinked, trying to focus on her phone screen. The tiny glowing numbers refused to sit still, swimming in and out of focus as she squinted at them.

Where the hell were her glasses?

Right. In her purse. Or maybe on someone’s table. Or maybe gone forever. It didn’t really matter at this point. What mattered was that her Uber was here.

Probably.

The app had just pinged her, and that was her cue to leave.

With the kind of confidence only a drunk girl could have, she swiped a hand through her hair, straightened her posture like that would somehow make her seem more composed, and made her way toward the line of parked cars outside the mansion. The LA air was cooler out here, crisp against her flushed skin.

She hummed to herself, stumbling slightly as she approached the row of black and silver vehicles. Was it the black Honda? Or the black SUV? Or-

Whatever, doesn’t matter.

Uber drivers always had those tiny stickers on the window, right? Not that she could see them without her glasses.

So, with absolutely no hesitation, Y/N reached for the handle of a random car and slid into the passenger seat like she did this every day. The leather was warm from sitting under the LA heat, the faint scent of something salty and familiar lingering in the air.

She barely had time to register the fact that the driver hadn’t greeted her before she clicked her seatbelt into place and sighed.

"Hey, Uber driver who I don’t know the name of because I don’t have my glasses with me." She said, head lolling slightly to the side as she glanced toward the figure beside her.

Matt Sturniolo was staring at her like he had just witnessed a crime.

His fingers hovered frozen over the fast-food bag in his lap, his wide blue eyes reflecting pure, unfiltered what the actual fuck energy. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just sat there, his grip tightening ever so slightly around a lone onion ring.

Y/N, oblivious to the sheer level of distress she had just caused, frowned at him. Weirdly quiet guy.

Then, without missing a beat, Matt cleared his throat, glanced at his onion ring, and started talking.

"Hey... uh. Do you want an onion ring?"

Y/N blinked at him. Processing.

Then, after too many seconds, she shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

And just like that, she took the onion ring from his fingers - that was already bitten -, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.

The onion ring was good. Like, really good. Crispy, salty, the kind of satisfying crunch that felt almost poetic in the moment. Or maybe that was just her messy taste buds. Either way, Y/N sat there, chewing thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the fact that the guy next to her - her supposed Uber driver - had yet to say much beyond offering her fast food.

She swallowed, then licked a bit of salt off her lip before shifting in her seat. It was only then that she noticed something was... off.

They weren’t moving.

The car was still in park, engine humming softly, headlights illuminating the empty stretch of road ahead.

She furrowed her brows, glancing at him.

"Hey, I’m all good to go!" She announced, clapping her hands together like this was some kind of Uber check-in process. "You can start driving now."

Matt, still mildly stunned and feeling lost, blinked at her. Then, after a pause, he cleared his throat, preparing himself to make her leave his KIA.

"Miss, I'm not-" Matt stopped himself, jaw tensing.

He could think she was insane and reckless all he wanted, but he sure wasn’t about to let a drunk girl figure out how to get home alone. Not in this city. Not when she could barely stand straight without swaying like a damn cartoon character.

He let out a slow exhale, cleaning his dirty fingers on the napkin laying above the car console.

"You know what? What’s the address?"

Oh. Right. Addresses.

Y/N blinked at him, then at her phone, the glowing letters on the screen looking like they were written in an ancient, forbidden language that her brain had no capacity to decipher right now. She squinted hard, her mouth moving in a silent test run before she finally read them aloud, not even realizing that the Uber app would’ve already handled this for her. If he was her Uber driver at all.

Matt just nodded, turning to his GPS and tapping in the location like this was just another casual night.

But just as he finished, a text notification popped up on the screen.

Nick: We’re leaving in 10. U there?

Matt glanced at it for half a second.

And then?

He ignored it.

His fingers hovered over the screen, but instead of bothering to answer, he just drove his attention to the road, shifted gears, and put his car in motion.

The engine hummed smoothly, the low rumble cutting through the quiet night as the car rolled onto the road, the distant echoes of the party fading into the background.

Y/N exhaled dramatically, sinking further into the passenger seat, trying to focus on the soft hum of the car rather than the growing ache in her head.

After a beat, she glanced over at Matt - really looked at him for the first time. His dark shirt, the way his fingers decorated with silver rings drummed lightly on the steering wheel, the faint glow of streetlights casting sharp angles across his bearded face making his features pop in the kind of way that made her want to run a hand through her hair and pretend she wasn’t so clearly out of it.

He was cute. Like, annoyingly cute.

"Are all Ubers that work past midnight this pretty?" She asked, her words dripping with playful sincerity.

Matt’s eyes widened, his grip on the wheel tightening just a little as his mouth opened, and then, realizing he wasn’t choking on anything, he did exactly that, choked on nothing. For a split second, he glanced at her, looking like a deer caught in headlights before snapping his gaze back to the road.

"What?" He asked, his voice going a little higher than usual, almost like a weird, adorable squeak.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, tilting her head like she was explaining the weather.

"I mean, it’s a fair question, right? I feel like this must be an exclusive, midnight-only service you’ve got going here."

Matt’s eyes flicked over to her again, his face a mixture of confusion, shock, and something a lot like embarrassment. He cleared his throat as if it would somehow help him regain some composure, but it only made the situation more awkward, and infinitely more endearing.

"... I... I’m not-" He atarted, though his voice was barely a whisper as he struggled to keep his attention on the road.

"Wait." She interrupted him abruptly, turning fully toward him now, gasping softly. "Are you one of those cool Uber drivers?"

Matt let out a breathy, shocked laugh through his nose, shaking his head with the sudden change of humor.

"What- what do you mean ‘cool Uber driver’?"

"You know." She gestured vaguely. "The ones who let me blast my music and give me free snacks."

Matt hummed, tilting his head in mock consideration.

"I don’t know. What kind of music are we talking?"

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest.

"As if that’s even a question. The best kind, duh."

Matt raised a brow. For him, the best kind was Mac Miller.

"Which is...?"

She grinned, already reaching for his aux cord like it was her car.

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you."

Matt didn’t stop her. He just exhaled another amused breath through his nose, watching through the corner of his eye as she scrolled furiously through her playlists, her brows furrowing in deep concentration. Then, with a triumphant little hum, she hit play.

The car instantly filled with the unmistakable opening notes of Tik Tok by Kesha.

Matt’s grip on the steering wheel twitched. Y/N, completely unbothered, turned to him with the most serious expression possible.

"This is non-negotiable. You must sing."

Matt scoffed.

"I must?"

"It’s a legally binding agreement the second Kesha starts playing." She said matter-of-factly.

Matt shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself.

"I don’t think that’s how the law works."

"You think the law has power over Kesha?" She gasped. "Over me?"

Matt laughed. A real laugh this time. Low and warm and easy.

Nick would've loved her.

Y/N, taking this as a win, nodded firmly before dramatically belting out the lyrics, all while drumming her hands against her thighs like this was a full-on concert.

"BEFORE I LEAVE BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A BOTTLE OF JACK-"

Matt winced.

"Jesus Christ."

"- CAUSE WHEN I LEAVE FOR THE NIGHT, I AIN'T COMING BACK!"

Matt, to his credit, didn’t crash the car. He just huffed out another laugh, shaking his head as he reached into the Burger King bag and held out another onion ring.

"Here. Please, for the love of God, chew."

Y/N gasped again, snatching the onion ring dramatically.

"Are you trying to silence me?"

"A little bit."

She narrowed her eyes, biting into it slowly, all while maintaining intense eye contact.

"You fear my talent."

Matt let out a small chuckle, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

"I fear for my eardrums."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, taking another bite of the onion ring. She chewed happily for a few seconds, but then, suddenly, her jaw slowed.

A weird, unsettling feeling rolled through her stomach like a warning siren, and before she could process it, nausea hit her like a wave. Everything inside her flipped, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. She swallowed thickly, her throat tightening, her whole body stilling.

Matt noticed instantly.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, his voice dipping into something soft, immediately catching onto her discomfort.

His reaction was so quick that before she could even think, he had already taken one hand off the wheel, reaching toward her. His fingers brushed against hers, gently but firmly taking the half-eaten onion ring from her grasp, tossing it effortlessly back into the bag.

And then, without a moment's hesitation, he paused the song and rolled down her window.

The cool night air rushed inside, hitting her face in a gentle, relieving gust, playing with the strands of her hair and making them dance in the wind, cooling down her warm face.

Matt's hand went back to the wheel, but his eyes flicked toward her every couple of seconds.

"You good? Want me to pull over?"

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the fresh air like it was her lifeline. Her fingers gripped the side of the seat, her head tilting slightly toward the breeze, trying to ground herself.

"Ugh, no, no, I'm fine." She muttered, still a little off-balance. "It just hit me weird. I think my stomach was like, 'Oh, cool, fried food after a night of drinking? Let's ruin this bitch'."

Matt huffed a small laugh.

"Yeah, well, if your stomach starts a full-on rebellion, let me know before it declares war all over my car."

"Don't be mean about it, Uber driver."

Y/N’s voice came out small and pouty, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically as she turned toward him, blinking slowly to ward off the dizziness that followed the nausea.

Matt glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying so hard not to laugh at the ridiculous, genuinely heartbroken expression on her face.

"I wasn’t being mean-"

"Yes, you were."

"I was just-"

"So mean."

Her voice wobbled just slightly, and suddenly Matt’s stomach dropped.

Oh, shit.

She was about to cry.

Matt had never dealt with a drunk, emotional person before, and definitely not a stranger one. His brain scrambled for literally anything to do, anything at all, before full-on tears started spilling down her cheeks.

"Hey, no. Don't cry, sweetheart."

The second the pet name left his lips, Y/N’s entire demeanor shifted.

Her tears stopped, and her face softened, lips slightly parted, like she had just witnessed a miracle.

"Sweetheart?"

Matt froze.

Oh, fuck.

Matt glanced around, suddenly feeling too warm, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel like it was his lifeline. His heart was pounding, and she was still staring at him, blinking up at him like he had just given her the most precious gift in the world.

And he needed to fix this immediately.

Without another word, he reached for the smart screen, his fingers quickly tapping it to press play on the song he had paused minutes before.

The second the sound of Kesha's voice blasted through the car again, Y/N’s mood did a complete 180°. Her face lit up, eyes widening as if she had just been brought back to life.

"Oh, shit- KESHA!"

And just like that, everything was gone.

The near-tears were gone, the heartbreak about his comment had vanished, and she was singing again, full volume, completely unapologetic, her hands moving wildly as she danced in her seat.

Matt let out a slow breath, his heart still beating too fast.

Between a 2000's song here and drunk comments there about how she ended up taking way too many jello shots with a dude named Brad who refused to say what he actually did for life or how she ended up getting locked in a bathroom because some drunk couple mistook the stall for a VIP lounge, the car slowed, turning onto a familiar street.

Matt glanced at his GPS, then out the window, before finally shifting into park. He reached for the smart screen, lowering the volume to a minimum before looking at her, voice soft.

"Alright, this is you."

Y/N blinked, then turned her head to look outside.

And- oh.

It was her place.

Huh.

For a second, she just... stared at it. The streetlights, the familiar shape of her front door, the welcome mat that she’d impulsively bought months ago because it said "Hot Girls Live Here".

She chewed on her lip, hesitating for half a second before sighing dramatically.

"Welp. Bye bye, mister Uber driver."

Matt hummed, nodding, but didn’t say anything. So she grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.

The second she swung it open and stepped out, however, the ground tilted.

Okay, not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. Her legs wobbled, the world spinning ever so slightly, and before she could even blink, a warm hand wrapped around her arm, steadying her.

"Whoa, hey."

Y/N blinked down at him, her vision slightly wobbly, her brain playing catch-up.

Matt was still in his seat, halfway over the center console, one arm stretched out to keep her from completely face-planting onto the pavement. His fingers curled securely around her forearm, firm but careful, like she was a newborn deer that had just taken its first, very questionable, steps.

"Damn, got two left feet there, huh?" He muttered, lips twitching. "You good?"

Y/N laughed way too hard than any sober person would. Like, actual tears in her eyes hard. And then, as if to prove just how not good she was, she swayed again before flopping back onto the seat with a little bounce.

Matt raised a brow, biting back his own chuckle. It wasn’t even a good joke.

Still giggling, Y/N reached out blindly, pressing a palm to his arm.

"You’re so funny."

However, her face falls shortly after, her brows knitting together, laced with a curious gaze as she slides her fingers around his skin in search of the swallows inked onto his whole arm.

Matt tensed slightly, watching her fingertips skate across the ink on his forearm, brushing over lines and shading with gentle curiosity.

"Having fun there?" He wet his lips.

"Yeah." She nodded enthusiastically - too enthusiastically, because a second later, she froze as dizziness smacked into her like a truck for the second time.

Matt swore internally. His skin was heating way too much for a guy who had a fully intoxicated girl petting his arm like it was a damn artifact.

Okay. Time to move.

"Alright!" His voice came out way louder than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He cleared his throat again, slowly untangling his arm from her grasp. "Stay right there."

And before she could even attempt a protest, he was already moving.

Y/N blinked as she watched him step out, rounding the front of the car in a few easy strides. His shirt riding up slightly, his keys jingling from his belt loop, his hair shifting slightly with the breeze.

And then, suddenly, he was right in front of her.

Without hesitation, he reached for her purse on the ground, slinging it over his own shoulder, and held out a hand.

"C’mon."

Y/N just stared at him. Then at his hand. Then at his very serious expression. Her brain took a moment before her arm finally moved.

The moment Matt’s fingers wrapped around Y/N’s hand, his skin was all she could feel.

His palm was warm, the kind of warmth that felt steadying. But it wasn’t just that. It was smooth, too, except for the slightly rougher patches right at the base of his fingers - the callouses from years of drumming.

Her drunken brain latched onto the detail immediately.

"Oh, wow." She blurted out, squeezing his hand. "Your hands are so soft. Like silk."

Matt blinked, looking at their joined hands for a second before glancing back up at her, his lips twitching.

"First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered."

Y/N hummed dramatically, still holding onto him.

"You should be. It’s a big deal."

Matt let out a small chuckle before giving her fingers a quick, firm squeeze back.

With a giggle, Y/N finally let herself be pulled up, swaying a little too much in the process, but before she could even stumble, Matt moved, gently grabbing her arm, pulling it over his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

And wow.

Wow.

He was warm. And solid. And smelled like onion rings and rich cologne and some kind of softness that made her stomach flip in ways she refused to unpack right now.

"Watch your feet."

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Matt had no idea what time it was when they finally reached her porch, but it was definitely late. The kind of late that made the streetlights buzz a little louder, the air feel a little colder, and his patience with this drunk, ridiculous girl stretch dangerously thin.

Not that he actually minded.

If anything, it was insanely cute how she was just sitting there now, slumped in the wooden chair like some kind of defeated heroine. Her arms were dangling off the armrests, legs stretched out in front of her, head tilted back dramatically, and mascara forming black trails below her eyes.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I said stay still."

Y/N let out a deep, theatrical sigh, still moving her legs like a swing.

"I am still."

Matt exhaled through his nose.

"No, you’re not. You’re-" He gestured vaguely toward her. "You'll fall from there."

She waved a limp hand in his direction.

"Whatever."

Matt groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He had the idea that trying to argue with a drunk person was a lost cause, so instead of wasting his breath, he turned to the front door.

And then realized the next problem.

She wasn’t going to open it.

Because she was currently treating that wooden chair like it was a swing and she was a kid after school time.

Matt turned back to her, eyebrows raised.

"You got your keys?"

Y/N, still dramatically draped over the chair, gave him a lazy thumbs-up.

"Yup."

Matt stared at her expectantly.

She didn’t move.

Matt sighed.

"Okay. Where?"

Y/N blinked up at him. Then, as if the idea had just occurred to her, she pointed toward the black purse still dangling off his shoulder.

Matt stared at it, then back at her.

"Can I open it?"

Y/N, without even lifting her head, simply flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture.

Matt huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"That’s not an answer."

She made the motion again, this time more dramatic.

Matt rolled his eyes but obeyed, carefully pulling the purse to the front of him and unzipping it. He was quick in the way he searched, making sure not to look too closely at whatever chaos was inside.

Luckily, it didn’t take long.

After just a few seconds, his fingers closed around a set of keys, the keychain a glittery pink monstrosity.

Matt smirked.

Shaking his head, he straightened up and moved to the front door, unlocking it with ease before turning back toward her.

And then came the next problem.

Because the second he reached out to help her stand, he realized just how much of a mess this was about to be.

Y/N, for all her earlier confidence, was absolutely useless on her feet now.

Like, actually useless.

The moment he pulled her up, she practically folded against him, her entire body weight leaning into his chest like she had no bones whatsoever.

"Jesus, dude." Matt barely had time to adjust, his arms scrambling to keep her upright. "You gotta help me here."

Y/N, her cheek now fully pressed against his shoulder, let out a content sigh.

"Mmm, comfy."

Matt let out a silent scream into the night.

This was impossible.

He couldn’t just drag her inside like some kind of caveman, and carrying her? Not happening. He wasn't the weakest, sure, but she was a whole human person.

So, instead, he opted for shuffling.

Painfully.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

It was a process, but eventually, after what felt like an entire century, he managed to get her through the front door.

And the moment they stepped inside, he was hit with her world.

From the soft, warm lighting to the overflowing bookshelf in the corner to the cozy, mismatched cushions draped over the couch to the little Polaroid pictures stuck to the fridge.

It was lived-in, personal, comforting.

Matt blinked, taking it in for half a second before remembering the deadweight in his arms.

With a final exhale, he maneuvered them toward the big couch, practically collapsing with her as he eased her down, making sure she didn’t just flop like a ragdoll.

Once she was settled, he knelt beside her, hesitating before brushing some stray hair from her eyes.

"You good?"

Y/N, blinking sleepily up at him, nodded.

"Mhm."

Matt sighed, patting her knee.

"You should lay down."

Y/N huffed, but obliged, shifting so she could stretch out across the cushions.

Matt watched her for a second, waiting.

"You comfortable?"

Y/N, eyes half-lidded, gave him a slow, lazy grin.

"I would be more comfortable if you cuddled me, blue eyes."

Matt froze.

Yeah, okay. He should definitely go.

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The unforgiving brightness of the sun pierced through Y/N’s closed eyelids, an intrusive, blaring light that made her face scrunch in discomfort.

Weird.

Her room had blackout curtains, ones she had spent way too much money on to ensure that early mornings wouldn’t include the added torture of daylight exposure.

Her brows knit together, confusion settling in before she even opened her eyes.

And then, slowly, she did.

Only to be met with the wrong ceiling.

Y/N blinked, her brain sluggishly catching up to the fact that this was not her bedroom.

Then, she registered other things; her body feeling heavy under too many layers of clothes, the sticky sensation of dried makeup clinging to her skin, and, worst of all, the absolute tragedy happening inside her mouth.

She groaned, twisting her face in pure disgust. It tasted like something had died on her tongue, and she vaguely remembered drinking... tequila? And maybe some kind of mystery cocktail that some random stranger shoved at her, saying it was a "game changer".

A game changer in what? Making her suffer?

Y/N sat up, immediately regretting it as a sharp, pounding pain erupted behind her eyes. Jesus Christ.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hands pressing against her temples in an attempt to soothe the pain, but nothing helped. It was the kind of deep, bone-vibrating headache that made every movement feel like an earthquake inside her skull.

After a minute - or maybe five - she finally forced herself to function.

She opened her eyes again, and this time, she really looked around.

Oh.

She was in her living room.

The TV. The coffee table. The faint scent of her vanilla-scented candle that had long since burned out.

Right.

Her mind buzzed, trying to connect the blurry pieces of last night.

The party. The drinks. The decision to go home.

And then... the Uber driver.

Y/N frowned, blinking slowly.

Her eyes drifted downward, and that’s when she noticed the glass of water and the bottle of painkillers sitting neatly on the table.

Her brows lifted in surprise.

Wow.

So, not only did the Uber driver make sure she got home safely, but he also took care of her after the fact?

Because she knows her drunk version, and she couldn't even sit straight.

That was... suspiciously thoughtful.

Y/N shrugged to herself, grabbing the glass and the medicine without question, tossing the pill against her tongue and gulping down the water like her life depended on it. And, honestly? It kind of did. The cool liquid washed away the awful taste in her mouth, making her sigh in relief.

And then-

BRRRRRRING.

Y/N flinched, eyes snapping toward the sudden noise.

Her phone.

Where the hell was it?

She groaned, rummaging around the blanket that was still wrapped around her before realizing. Her purse.

She reached over, dragging it toward herself, and as soon as she dug inside, her fingers wrapped around her phone.

She unlocked it immediately, her eyebrows furrowing as she scanned the recent notifications.

And that’s when she saw it.

A string of messages from her Uber app.

Her actual Uber driver.

UBER: Your driver has arrived.

UBER: Your driver is waiting.

UBER: Your driver is still waiting.

UBER: Your driver will be leaving soon.

UBER: Your driver has canceled your ride.

Oh.

Oh.

Her brain stuttered, slowly putting the pieces together.

So... she didn’t get into her Uber last night.

She left the poor guy stranded outside the party, probably cursing her existence, while she happily hopped into some random car.

Shit.

Y/N blinked down at her screen, processing the absolute chaos of her life choices when something caught her eye.

A small, folded note - clearly from her very much old notebook above her TV table - sitting neatly beside her purse, right below her hands.

Her brows lifted again.

She reached for it, flipping it open while glancing back at her phone, her brain still half-focused on her Uber driver’s angry messages.

And then, as she read the words, her heart did a weird little thing in her chest.

"Call me whenever you need a cool Uber driver again. Or, y’know, if you just wanna talk."

- Matt

Y/N stared at the note.

Then back at her phone.

Then back at the note.

And finally, it clicked.

She hadn’t just gotten into a random car last night.

She had gotten into a random guy’s car.

A very cute, very cool random guy’s car.

And instead of kidnapping her or doing something worse, he drove her home, tucked her in, left her water and medicine, and even gave her his number?

Y/N stared at the note for a long second, brain short-circuiting.

Then, she let out a laugh - soft and disbelieving - before grinning to herself.

Well.

This was definitely going to be interesting.

[verstappenverse]

oh i think i have a request 🤭 maybe max starts to date reader cause of a bet but he ends up actually falling in love with her…kinda angst but maybe fluffy and happy ending as well?

The Bet and The Fall

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max starts dating you on a bet never expecting to fall for you, but as your relationship grows he must confront the fallout of his careless gamble.

4k words / Masterlist

You never thought the end of your year would involve Max Verstappen.

The first time you saw him, he’d been exactly what you expected. Quick wit, easy smirk, and just enough arrogance to carry the weight of his success. He’d walked into the bar with a confidence that commanded attention, his laughter spilling into the room like it belonged there. And maybe it did.

You didn’t think much of him then. He was just another face, another fleeting encounter on a night out. But fate or something cruelly ironic had other plans.

It started with an accident, a spill of your drink when you turned too quickly, bumping straight into him. His reflexes were sharp, of course, the glass never hit the ground.

"Smooth," he’d said, voice tinged with amusement as he set the glass down.

You’d laughed it off, brushing away your embarrassment. "Thanks for the save. You’re faster off track than I thought."

That had earned a raised brow and a crooked grin. "You know who I am?"

"I’m not living under a rock."

Max shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t look like the type who goes to parties like this.”

Your laugh was genuine, surprising even yourself. “And what does that mean exactly?”

"Nothing bad." he said, watching you closely. "But I’m good at reading people."

"And what do you read from me?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… you seem like you’re trying to figure out how you ended up here.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted, glancing around the room. “I’m here because my friend insisted. Apparently I need to ‘live a little.’”

Max’s smile widened, and there was something disarming about it, “And are you? Living a little?”

You shrugged, feeling oddly at ease despite the absurdity of the situation. “I guess I am now.”

He’d offered to replace your drink, and you’d let him, thinking it was nothing more than a kind gesture. He shifted slightly closer, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you talked.

The conversation flowed more easily than you expected. Max was charming in a way that felt unpolished, his humour dry and his smile boyish despite the confidence he carried. He asked questions about you, what you did, where you were from, and he actually seemed interested in your answers.

At some point, you forgot who he was. You forgot that you were talking to someone whose life was splashed across headlines and social media. And when your best friend eventually came to drag you away, Max had looked genuinely disappointed.

When he asked for your number as you were standing up to leave, you hesitated.

"I don’t usually do this," you admitted, handing him your phone anyway.

"I don’t either," he replied, though the glint in his eyes made you doubt that.

Still, he’d texted you the next day and slowly things started to unfold.

What you didn’t know at the time was that across the room someone had been watching the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on their face.

Max had been sitting at a table with his friends earlier that night, a drink in his hand and an argument brewing. It wasn’t unusual competitive personalities clashed even off the track. But tonight Daniel had been relentless, poking at Max’s habits, his so-called inability to "settle down."

"You don’t even know how to date properly," Daniel joked. "I bet you wouldn’t last two weeks with a normal girl."

Max rolled his eyes. "And what does that even mean?"

"It means," Daniel said, grin widening, "you’re all about control. You don’t let anyone in unless you’ve already decided it’s worth your time. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the spontaneity?"

Max scoffed. "You’re talking like I don’t know how to have a real relationship."

"Because you don’t," Daniel shot back, laughing. "Prove me wrong. Bet you wouldn’t last a month with someone who isn’t already part of your world. No models, no influencers, no one born into racing. A normal person. You’d combust."

Max leaned back, unimpressed. "I could date anyone I wanted."

Daniel’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "Alright, Verstappen. Prove it." He gestured toward the bar, where you stood unaware of their gaze. "Her. One month. Bet you can’t do it."

Max followed Daniel’s line of sight, lips twitching as he took you in. You were laughing at something a friend had said, head tossed back, easy and unguarded. There was no designer handbag, no polished effort to impress.

Max smirked, arrogance slipping easily into his voice. "Easy."

"Oh, is it?" Daniel teased. "She doesn’t look like the type to fall for your usual tricks mate."

"She’ll fall," Max said, confidence unwavering. "They always do."

Daniel arched an eyebrow. "Alright then." He held out his hand. "If you pull it off drinks are on me for the rest of the year."

Max clasped Daniel’s hand without hesitation. "Deal."

What he didn’t anticipate was how easy it would be to approach you or how different you would be from what he expected. When he wandered over to the bar, leaning casually against the counter, he didn’t have to try hard to strike up a conversation. You were warm, quick-witted, and entirely uninterested in the weight of his name.

You didn’t look at him like he was Max Verstappen, Formula 1 World Champion. You looked at him like he was just a guy who spilled your drink and owed you a new one. It caught him off guard, that refreshing lack of pre-tense.

Max had meant for it to be a game, a challenge to prove his point. What he didn’t realise then was that he’d just placed a bet against his own heart. And for the first time in his life, he was about to lose.

Looking back, you’d wonder if you should have noticed the cracks sooner.

Everything felt perfect. Max was attentive, charming, and surprisingly easy to talk to. He wasn’t just the Max Verstappen the world saw he was softer with you, more thoughtful. He’d remember small details, how you liked your coffee, the book you were reading, the song stuck in your head.

He made you laugh too, really laugh, the kind that bubbled up unexpectedly, catching you off guard, leaving your cheeks aching and your stomach fluttering. And when he kissed you for the first time his hands cradled your face, careful and deliberate, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t gentle enough. There was something almost reverent about the way he touched you, like he was holding something fragile, something precious, something he wasn’t sure he deserved but wasn’t willing to let go of either, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw, you realised something terrifying.

You had fallen fast, and you had fallen hard.

What you didn’t know was that Max hadn’t expected to fall at all.

A month came and went, but by then Max wasn’t counting anymore. The bet was long forgotten, buried under the weight of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and the way your laugh seemed to echo in his mind long after you were gone.

At first, it was easier to ignore the way something shifted in his chest whenever you were around, the way his mind drifted to you even in moments when he should have been focused. He told himself it was just intrigue, a fleeting distraction that would fade once the bet was over. But then, moment by moment, the reality became impossible to ignore.

It was the way you laughed, unrestrained, unselfconscious. The kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, infectious and full of life. The way you talked with your hands, so animated and expressive that he found so captivating. The way you challenged him, never intimidated by his sharp edges or his reputation, meeting him head-on with quick wit, making him feel like he didn’t have to be Verstappen, the calculated driver, the public figure, with you he could just be Max.

He fell without realising it, like slipping into a warm bath, slow, comforting, inevitable.

The tipping point came on what should have been a regular, quiet evening at your place. You’d insisted on cooking dinner for him brushing off his protests about how he could just order something instead. The kitchen was chaos, vegetables half-chopped, sauce simmering too quickly, flour dusting your shirt, but you didn’t seem to care. You were too busy laughing at yourself, muttering about how you were definitely not cut out for MasterChef.

“Come on Verstappen,” you teased, tossing him an apron. “You can’t be a world champion and not know how to chop an onion.”

Max caught the apron midair, a mock look of horror on his face. “I don’t think that’s in the championship requirements.”

“Well it’s in mine,” you quipped, tying your own apron behind your back. “Get chopping.”

Max leaned against the counter, watching you with an expression that would have given him away in an instant if you’d turned to look at him.

“You’re staring,” you teased after a while.

He smirked. “Maybe I like what I’m seeing.”

You rolled your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

It was a simple moment, but it lodged itself in Max’s chest like a permanent fixture. He knew then it wasn’t just intrigue or infatuation, he loved you. And that terrified him.

The closer you got, the harder it became for him to bury the truth. He tried telling himself it didn’t matter, the bet had been stupid, something meaningless that had quickly been replaced by something real. But every time he saw the trust in your eyes, every time you looked at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to you, the guilt churned in his stomach.

There were nights he barely slept, lying awake in bed with the weight of it pressing down on him. What if you found out? What if you looked at him with disgust, walked away without giving him the chance to explain? He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t lose you.

Every moment with you, big or small, was another thread tying him closer to you. He didn’t know how it happened so fast, but he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. You were his home, his safe place, and he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

One evening, the two of you sat curled up on the couch in his Monaco apartment, a movie playing in the background that neither of you was paying much attention to. You rested your head on his chest, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, his heart aching with how perfect it felt.

But then you spoke. “You’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

The words made his chest tighten. You always noticed. Even the smallest shifts in his mood never escaped your attention.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face. “Are you sure? You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

The guilt surged, and for a fleeting moment, he considered telling you. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but then he imagined the way your expression would change, the way you’d pull away from him, he couldn’t bear it.

Instead he leaned down to kiss you hoping it would be enough to distract you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair, and for a moment he let himself believe it was enough.

“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and certain.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

He adjusted the blanket over you and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some sleep liefje.”

Max buried the secret deeper after that night, convincing himself that it was better this way. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of it, and he couldn’t risk losing you.

But the guilt didn’t go away. It lingered like a shadow, growing heavier with every passing day. He started overcompensating, showering you with affection, he’d buy you flowers every day, plan spontaneous dates, and do anything he could to keep you happy.

And it worked. You were happy. You loved him. And Max loved you so much it hurt.

The fear of losing you consumed him. It drove him to be better, to be the man you deserved, but it also ate away at him. He avoided certain conversations, terrified that you’d somehow stumble upon the truth. He cut Daniel off sharply whenever he brought up the bet, even if you were nowhere near, his tone cold and final.

“Don’t,” he snapped when Daniel jokingly mentioned it in passing. “It’s not funny.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender, the mere mention of the bet made Max’s chest tighten, the fear creeping back in. He couldn’t let you find out because Max knew one thing with absolute certainty, if you ever did he’d lose you.

No matter how hard he tried the fallout was inevitable.

The night had started out like any other, one of those glitzy, over-the-top events Max had to attend where champagne flowed like water and conversations were laced with artificial charm. You had never particularly liked these parties, but for Max you endured them.

Maybe that’s why you had stepped outside. The ballroom was too loud, too stifling, too full of people who smiled too widely and spoke in half-truths. You had wanted air, a moment to breathe away from it all, and then you heard it.

Max’s voice, unmistakable even in the distance, low and edged with something uncharacteristically uneasy. You followed it instinctively, your heels clicking against the marble floors as you rounded the corner toward the balcony. You weren’t eavesdropping, at least that wasn’t the intention but something in his tone made you pause just before stepping into view.

"I didn’t think it’d go this far," Max said, his voice quiet with exasperation. "It was a stupid bet Daniel. A fucking drunk, meaningless bet. And now I—now she—”

His words cut off abruptly like he couldn't even bring himself to say it out loud, but the damage was already done.

Your heart stopped.

The world seemed to tilt under your feet, the music and laughter from the party fading into white noise. Bet. The word hit you like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

You didn’t hear the rest. You didn’t need to.

A choked breath escaped your lips before you could stop it, and that tiny sound was enough to break whatever bubble of secrecy Max had been operating in. His head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in alarm as he registered your presence.

"Shit," he muttered, his entire body tensing.

You didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet were already moving, the panic clawing at your throat as you turned on your heel and pushed past the doors leading inside. You needed to get out.

"Wait—"

Max was already chasing after you, shoving past Daniel, who muttered a quiet curse calling out for Max as he realised what had just happened, but Max didn’t hear him, or maybe he didn’t care. His focus was on you weaving through the crowd as you dodged between people your vision blurred with tears.

When Max found you, you were already halfway out the entrance.

"Wait," he called, his voice raw with panic. "Please just listen it's not what you think—"

"Don’t," you bit out, whirling to face him. "Don’t insult me by pretending this wasn’t exactly what it looks like."

His face crumpled, "It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

"Then what was it supposed to be Max?" Your voice shook, the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. "A joke? Something to laugh about with your friends? A game to pass the time until you got bored?"

"No," he said stepping forward, hands reaching for you like he could fix this if he just got close enough. "At first-when we first met I…it doesn’t matter, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen-"

"But it did," you cut him off, voice breaking under the weight of it all. "And you let it happen. You let me believe in this, in you, while you knew—"

"I fell for you too," he rasped, his desperation tangible. "I swear to god, I did. And now I can't—" His breath hitched, words failing him. "I can’t imagine my life without you."

"Stop," you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You don’t get to say that. Not now. Not when this," you gestured between you, "was built on a lie."

His wiped away his own tear that had fallen. "But we were happy, that was real." he pleaded, voice breaking. "I tried so fucking hard to make you happy everyday, to make everything perfect. Doesn’t that count for something?"

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as fresh pain sliced through you. "No, Max. It doesn’t. Because it was never real. You don’t get to build something on a lie and then act like the good parts outweigh the truth."

He reached for you again, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling impossibly vast.

"I can't do this, Max. I can't be with someone who—" Your voice faltered. "Someone who made me love them knowing it was never real."

"It is real, I swear I lov-" he pleaded, but you just turned away.

And this time, when you walked away, you didn't look back.

Max tried everything to win you back. Texts, calls, presents, even showing up at your door unannounced. But you ignored him, too hurt to entertain the idea of forgiveness. It wasn’t until over a month later that he finally got through to you.

A knock at your door interrupted the quiet of your evening. You weren’t expecting anyone. And when you peeked through the peephole, your stomach twisted. Max, again.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the lock, but before you could turn away his voice came through the door, muffled but unmistakably determined.

"I’m not leaving until you talk to me."

You sighed, pressing your forehead against the wood. A couple of weeks ago you would have let him sit there all night. Now, all you felt was confused. But… you unlocked it, pulling it open just enough that you could stand in the door.

"Max—"

"Wait," he cut in gently, his eyes desperate. "Please. Just let me say this."

"I messed up," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I know I did. And part of me wishes I could go back and never agree to the stupid bet, to stop it before it ever started." He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. "But I can’t. And the truth is… I don’t know if I’d want to."

You reached for the door, but he pressed on.

"Because the bet led me to you. And I don’t regret that. I regret lying. I regret hurting you. But I could never regret you." His voice broke slightly. "I love you. Not because of some stupid decision, but because of who you are."

He took a step closer to the door careful, like he knew he was balancing on a knife’s edge.

"Because of the way you ramble when you're excited. The way you always text me when you see something that reminds you of me, no matter how small. The way you—" He let out a shaky breath. "The way you make me feel like I've finally found something that matters more than everything I ever thought I wanted”

"I know I don’t deserve another chance," he continued, voice softer now. "But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m not the guy who made that bet. I’m the guy who loves you. And I swear, I will never stop trying to be better for you."

Silence wrapped around you both. You swallowed hard, fighting against the warmth creeping into the cracks he had just reopened. "You had months Max. Months to tell me the truth. And you didn’t. You let me find out like that…why?”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a long moment he just stared at the ground, his breath coming uneven.

"Because I was scared," he admitted, "scared that if I told you, I’d lose you. That you’d look at me like you did that night, like I was just a mistake you regretted. I kept telling myself I’d find the right time, that I’d make it up to you before you ever had to know, and I fell for you, really fell, and suddenly telling you felt like handing you a reason to walk away."

For all the ways you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the betrayal, there was something devastating about the way he said it.

"So you lied instead," you murmured.

His lips pressed together, his head bowing slightly. "I did. And it was the worst decision I’ve ever made." His eyes lifted back to yours, full of something desperate. "But I swear to you, losing you showed me exactly what kind of man I never want to be again."

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whispered.

Max nodded, no trace of frustration, just quiet determination. "I’ll earn it," he vowed. "No matter how long it takes."

Your gaze flickered to the flowers in his hands. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out, fingertips brushing against his as you took them.

It wasn’t a yes. Not yet.

But it wasn’t a no, either.

And the way his lips parted slightly, the hope in his eyes you knew he’d wait for as long as you needed. A beat passed before you sighed and pushed the door open wider.

"Come in, just for a bit."

He paused, like he was afraid to move too fast, but the second you stepped back he followed slipping inside. You set the flowers down on the counter, fingers brushing over the petals as you tried to steady yourself.

"You’ve been eating right?" he asked a flicker of that familiar concern in his expression.

You huffed a small, reluctant laugh. "Seriously? That’s your first question after all that?"

Max shrugged, tentative in his smile. "I’ve been worried."

You rolled your eyes, but your chest ached in a way you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge in weeks. You had missed him, his presence, his quiet care, the way he always paid attention to the little things.

"Yes, I’ve been eating," you said, shifting your weight awkwardly.

"Good." He nodded, then hesitated. "Can I—sit?"

You hesitated to, then gave him a small nod. "Yeah. Just… don’t push your luck."

Max smiled at that, he walked over to the couch sitting at the far end, after a moment you sat down to, tucking your legs beneath you. Neither of you spoke at first. The air still felt heavy, but not unbearable. Max rubbed his palms over his thighs, glancing at you before looking away again.

"This is weird," you admitted.

"Yeah," he agreed, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "But not bad, right?"

You exhaled, staring down at your hands. "Not bad."

His grin widened, "Let’s order something, whatever you want.” his voice dropped, teasing. "Just don’t steal my fries."

"Who says I’d want your fries?" you murmured.

Max smirked. "You always want my fries."

You huffed dramatically, turning your attention back to your phone. "Fine. I’ll order my own. Happy?"

"Not yet," he murmured, the teasing edge in his voice softening into something else. "But I’m getting there."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but the warmth creeping into your chest was impossible to ignore. No, it wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But later when Max stole a fry from your box, grinning at you like he hadn’t just started a war you realised it was a start, a real one.

[arachnixe]

I might've gotten a bit carried away with this one...

The Sister-in-Law

As soon as I heard them coming, I put a kettle on the fire. The crows always let me know when I have visitors, and now they call out to announce I must entertain houseguests again. Three short caws in rapid succession, followed by a longer fourth—two people, then. No time to dawdle, but enough time to avoid haste, I clear the table of clutter, sorting my work into nearby shelves, closing my book and setting it aside for later, and… oh no, my half-finished spinning still rests on the seat of a chair. I huff in annoyance at my own laziness, sweeping an arm to slide spindle and forgotten tangle into a basket, discreetly shoving the whole mess by foot into the far corner of my cottage.

Three dainty raps at the door inform me that my window to tidy is at its end. Good enough, good enough. The table is clear, and fully three chairs are usable.

“Come on in then,” I call toward the door. “Don’t be afraid; come in!”

With a nasty squeal of hinges that really must be oiled again—maybe I’ll remember to take care of that after these two leave—the door opens just enough to catch a glimpse of my little sister’s face.

“Marina? God’s rotten t—” I bite my tongue. Shouldn’t swear in front of her, of all people. “Is something wrong? You’re not supposed to— I mean, isn’t there supposed to be—?”

Before I can choke out a coherent question, the door finishes its arc, showing me a face I’ve never seen before. Long, dark hair falls straight down, framing a head of delicate, almost elfin beauty. The smile gracing the stranger’s bloodless lips does not touch eyes of pitch that smolder like an inferno barely kept in check by will alone. Atop her head rests a carmine crown forged of no metal known to mortal smith.

Yes, my sister’s companion looks human enough, but it would take a fool not to see that this woman is not what she appears to be. I also cannot help but mark the conspicuous absence of those original companions with whom she left this place.

“Plum!” My sister greets me with enthusiasm bordering on surprise. “Is it really you? No, nothing’s wrong, hey, quit fussing!” She pulls her head away from my grip after I make sure her eyes look normal enough. No sign of blanching fever, at least. “It must be you, only you would—stop that!” I grip her wrist until I satisfy myself that her heart rate is perfectly normal for someone becoming actively annoyed at me, and then I release her. “Happy now?”

“No,” I huff. “I’m never happy. But I’m more pleased to see you return than I was to see you go, which I’ll call good enough.” I back away from the door again and wave them inside. “Come have a seat, leave your boots and cloaks and swords and masks and whatnot at the door, and I’ll brew some tea for us while you tell me what in the seven hells is going on with you. And introduce me to your friend!”

I set about searching for the tea, swearing under my breath as I remember it had been right here on the table, and I’d tidied it away with the dried herbs. Now where were the spare teacups? Ugh. It’s a good thing all that traveling gear takes forever to unstrap and unlace, gives me plenty of time to trawl through my own clutter. By the time they sit down, I manage to cobble together a downright competent tea set, brewing in progress.

“So, uh, Plum… You actually live at Agathea’s old house these days?”

“My house now.” I wave a hand to indicate the slouching building and all its chaotic piles as my domain. “And don’t change the subject. Who’s your friend?”

“Plum, this is Zee. Zee, this is my sister. We’re, ah, getting married… and…” She trails off without finishing. I blink impatiently at her, waiting for the rest.

“And…?” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Marina to stop stammering and get to the point. What is wrong with her? She was all bluster and confidence last I saw her, and now she’s acting like I’m the greatest challenge she’s had to face.

“I need your blessing,” she finishes at last, punctuating the request with the tiniest cringe.

“My what.”

“Because mom and dad are dead, and you’re my only family left, and…”

“My blessing? What is this—? Actually, no. Back up.” I jab a finger at Zee. “Do you talk?”

“I do.” Zee’s thin lips barely part, just enough to slip words between them like parchment through the gap under a door.

“Great. Don’t stop now.”

“Plum, don’t…” Marina whines, but I wave her complaint away with a waspish flick of my wrist.

The thing in the shape of a woman turns her palms up toward me. “What words shall I utter for you?”

I snort. “You can start with an apology. This? This whole thing?” I tilt my head to indicate her. “Rude. Terribly rude.”

“She hasn’t even done anything! Why are you acting like this?”

“Masks!” I spit. “I asked you to leave the masks at the door. I would think someone ostensibly trying to win my blessing might choose to let me see you. At the very least!”

The woman calling herself Zee bares her teeth in an expression not much like a smile, countering my demand with a question. “Are you really Marina’s sister?”

My sister hisses through her teeth, but she doesn’t contest the validity of the question. A sigh escapes from me. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this, that my various idiosyncrasies sufficed as proof of identity. Alright, you want to address this topic? I’ll address it.

“You think I’m Agathea.” Zee’s impassive expression contrasts Marina’s wincing discomfort, but neither one denies my statement. “Maybe you think she’s conjured an illusion of me to catch you off guard, or maybe you think she, I don’t know, possessed my body as part of some evil scheme for immortality, is that it?”

“I just expected…”

“You expected me to be still living in that shitty hovel within the city walls, of course. Thought you’d pop by, maybe use your fancy Chosen One powers and your Fated Quest wealth to save me from poverty, and I’d be so full of gratitude I’d say something like ‘oh, dear sister, however can I repay you?’ And then you’d hug me tight, just like I did for you when we were small and all alone on the streets, and all we had was each other, and you’d tell me that all you really want is for me to bless your marriage to this lovely woman who helped you help your poor, older sister who was never blessed with divine destiny.”

“It’s not like that!”

“But I wasn’t there. You asked around, probably like you’ve done a hundred times before on one quest or another, who knows, I don’t care. You heard a rumor about someone matching my description here at Agathea’s old cottage, the very place where you once had to save me from her wicked clutches. But oh no!” I clap my hands to my cheeks in mock surprise. “Now none of this is playing out the way you imagined, and you’re hoping that I’m not really Big Sis Plummy because it would be so much easier to handle me if you could just draw that holy blade and put me down. Maybe you could fight another big battle, save your real sister and get back on the Gratitude Route to your happily ever after, hmm?”

Marina’s mouth hangs open in horror, suggesting I got close enough to the truth of what she was thinking. Her lower lip starts trembling, and her eyes well with tears. Oh, hell’s rancid tonsils, I forgot how sensitive she always was to my cynicism. Or maybe she’s just ashamed of thinking those things about me.

An internal timer prods me to pour the tea, and so I stand and serve my guests. I take a moment to breathe and calm myself. I don’t like being jealous or angry with Marina. I grind the sharp edges out of my voice. “No. You know it’s me.”

“Sword’s gone anyway,” my sister mumbles, swallowing to control her quavering.

That stops me in my tracks. “What?!” I scan the heap of traveler’s detritus at the door, and sure enough the only sword there looks perfectly mundane, if well-crafted. “Something went wrong, I knew it. What happened? Is that why the others aren’t with you?”

I chew my lip, concern making me forget my dignity in front of the inhuman stranger. For a moment, I’m just the older sister again, mind racing to cobble together a scheme to get Mari out of trouble, trying to understand the situation so I can fix it all for her. “I thought that big lout of yours was insipid, but he had a talent at acting the part of ablative flesh defense. Did he trip when he should have been in front of you? Or the clever one with all the knives, good head on her shoulders, that one; she should have kept you out of trouble. Or the clown, good for a distraction at least while you swing that sword…”

Marina’s eyes dart to her left, to Zee, looking to the mystery woman to answer while she wets her lips and clears her throat, stalling for time. My eyes narrow. Something strange is happening here.

“How did you come to inherit this estate?” Eyes like lightless pools fix themselves on mine. “An answer for an answer.”

A standoff. My sister’s fiancée versus her older sister. A contest for… what, exactly? A marriage blessing? I sip my tea to stall for time to think and to allow that familiar aroma to coax my muscles into the relaxation of a predator in her own territory, not the tense bundle of nerves that would mark me as prey.

“An answer for an answer is an equal trade,” I allow. “But our exchange at the moment is an uneven one. You’ve entered my home wearing a mask. I have asked you twice now to remove it. I will tell you my story. In exchange, you will remove your mask and tell me your story. That is my first, last, and best offer.” I keep my tone relaxed, but I permit just a touch of anger to color my words at the edges. “You may decline, of course, but doing so closes the door on my blessing forever.”

Silence walls my side of the table from theirs. I don’t bother counting the seconds, choosing instead to sit back and sip my tea. Look, I have all the time in the world out here in the woods. I’m not the one with a mission, a time limit, and a missing relic.

When at last someone speaks, it’s Marina, angry enough to spit fire, shouting, finally sounding like herself again. “You are impossible, Plum! I—!”

But Zee somehow smothers her declaration, interrupting with a breathy rasp.

“I accept your terms,” she says, and with a glance she silences my sister’s objection before her tongue can speak it. “But you will speak truthfully or the deal is forfeit.”

“Truth is easy.” My turn to smile. Finally, we can make progress in this farcical confrontation. “Lies are more work anyway. But come on now, drink your tea. If I try to finish this pot all by myself, I’ll be pissing under the table before you finish keeping your end of the deal.”

Marina huffs in a mirror image of my own mannerisms before sipping from her cup. I can see in the set of her shoulders that the tea helps calm her despite her irritation at me. Zee throws her whole cup back in one shot, and I freshen both while gathering my own thoughts. Where to begin?

“I was here for more than a whole day before you and your comrades-in-arms found me—you know, back then—and Agathea could have done whatever she wanted to me in that time. You know that, right? Scared as you were, scared as I was, she could’ve done whatever she wanted to me that whole time.”

“I thought about that. So why didn’t she?”

“Oh, she did!” I cackle. “She very much did everything she wanted to me. The same thing she did to all the other girls she took.”

My sister’s eyes widen in sudden horror. “Goddess above, Plum, I didn’t know…”

“No, not what you’re thinking,” I hasten to cut that thought off. “Nothing physical. She just told me things. Planted a lot of seeds, the old witch did. Knew they wouldn’t all grow, but planned to keep her eye out for the ones that could. She spoke of the Wheel, the true name of the sin at the heart of creation, the mad inversion of harvest and rot and the wisdom of insanity.”

Even now, I can still smell the old woman’s musty breath as I recall her words. “Cornball witchy shit like that, you know? The other missing girls, they all went crazy from hearing it. Ran off into the woods to be eaten by giant vipers or crushed by lithovores or something.”

I couldn’t help laughing again at the memory. “I just told her she was wasting my time, that she might as well just kill me and spare me the lectures. Oh, Khazik Cyst, I was such a little shit back then.”

Ah, well, so much for sticking to polite language. But Marina can hardly lecture me for swearing when she went and lost her sacred blade. In the grand scheme of things, that must be way more offensive to her goddess, right? I make eye contact with my sister, and sure enough she doesn’t even react to my vulgarity. Huh, I guess some things do change after all.

“You lived because you didn’t find her witchy secrets interesting enough to go mad over?”

“Kinda trivializes her whole deal when you put it that way,” I reply, grinning. “But not far from the truth. Anyway, you know what comes next. You and your friends track us down, challenge her to a fight, she doesn’t leave a corpse, and you whisk me back home. The end. Hero saves the day again. Not that I wasn’t grateful, I mean. I was scared as hell, for all I was smart-mouthing my captor.”

“And then…?”

“Then you had to go. Didn’t need your big sister anymore. You were still a kid like me, but the goddess decided you were all grown up enough to face your destiny.” I heave a sigh. I don’t make eye contact this time. I don’t want to see her pity. “You were gone for six years, Marina.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to abandon you, it’s just… the time crystal—“

“Yes, of course, the time crystal.” I snort, my mouth filled with bitterness. “You can hardly be blamed for getting trapped in a time crystal while everything in the world goes to rot and ruin, the king is assassinated, and creepy cults pop up in every town.” Despite the bitterness in my voice, I hope she hears the sincerity in it too. I reach across the table and touch my sister’s hand. “I… really don’t blame you for that. Khazik Cyst, you were just a kid.” The more I think about it, the angrier I get. “You were just a kid, fighting some shit-taint chronomancer for the fate of the world armed with pluck, a sword that glows in the dark, and the power of hells-damned friendship.“

I pound the table with my fist, rattling the teacups. “You know I went searching for you? Threatened a capital librarian until he dug up some old prophecies. There was one about that whole fiasco with the time asshole—may that festering pustule rest in piss—written all fanciful and opaque like they do, but I recognized it immediately. That’s how I knew when you’d show up again and where you’d be.”

“And we weren’t kids anymore. You kept saying that again and again. That we weren’t kids anymore.”

My tea has already gone cold. Too caught up in old memories. I gulp it down and freshen everyone’s cup again, giving myself time to choose my next words carefully.

“I got to live a whole real life in those six years, Marina. You just had those years of your life deleted. I don’t think I can ever forgive your goddess for that.” I take a shuddering breath and press on. “And we had, what, that afternoon and one night at the inn together before cultists tried to assassinate you all? Best I could do was pull off a distraction so you and your friends could escape and go save the world.”

“I’m sorry, Plum.”

“But…?”

“But nothing. I’m sorry.” Naked sincerity on Marina’s face. She doesn’t launch into a speech about her duty to the world, the importance of sacrifice, or any of it. I glance over to Zee, who remains content to watch and listen in silence.

“But you had to save the world, didn’t you?” I gesture out the window. “The sun still looks haunted to me, though, so something must have gone wrong.” Haunted is maybe a too-cheeky way to describe how the great ball of fire hangs in the sky, a bloated, half-lidded eye that barely climbs past the horizon, even at noon. The color is all wrong, too, a festering yellow that tastes like disease when it falls on the tongue.

My sister shrugs. The gesture feels strange coming from her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” she answers cryptically. “But the house?”

“Right.” I can wait for her answers. “As I was saying, six years is a long time. I was thinking about a lot of things while you were gone. Thinking about how much I hate your goddess for taking my sister away from me, putting you in danger, all that. Thinking about the ‘sin at the heart of creation,’ and starting to feel like the idea made a lot of sense, actually. Like maybe it wasn’t all garbage.”

I take another sip of tea to steel my nerves for this confession. It’s not like I ever intended to keep the truth from my sister anyway. “I came back here. To Agathea. She offered me a place to stay. She taught me the virtues of herbs, how to mix them to make medicine or poison. She taught me how to listen to animals and make myself known to them. She taught me to speak the words that bind direction, to chain north so that it may not become east, to constrict up such that it may never be down. She taught me everything she is. The Witch of Everblood’s Call must be renewed by youth, you see. There is a time for harvest and a time for rot, and it was time for her to become me.”

“No.” Marina shakes her head in aggressive refusal of my words. “Absolutely not. You’re saying Agathea did steal your body? That you were her even when we escaped the time crystal and saw you again? I don’t believe it! Everything you say… all the ways you say it… you’re Plum. You’re my sister. I don’t know what this is. Trying to scare me away? No. No. I refuse.”

“Good! Refuse!” I bark a laugh. “You know it’s me. Not even I can convince you otherwise. Besides, it’s less like Agathea took my body and more that I took her mind, but there it is. I’m the big scary witch of the woods in truth, in command of the exact same power as Dread Agathea, no different from her except in all the ways that I am me instead.” I turn my best sinister grin across the table and cackle most menacingly. “And now that you’ve drunk my tea I can…” pause for dramatic effect, “brew a new pot, if you’d like!”

Marina gives me a look like she’s already exhausted of my gnollshit, which I find unfair considering how long it’s been since she’s had to indulge my sense of humor. Zee, of all people, laughs. Or at least she produces a sound that’s in the neighborhood of laughter. “I have decided I like your sister,” she says to her fiancée. “I think I shall keep her afterward.”

“Keep me, then.” I raise my teacup, holding on to the last dregs of tea, in a mock toast, feeling more relaxed and playful than I was earlier in the conversation. “But I’m keeping Mari, and she’s keeping me too, one way or another.”

“The deal is struck. Your story, I accept. I bind us through the keeping of my side.”

With each word, Zee shifts, human limbs shifting and twisting as though bereft of internal bones, skin turning thin and transparent, revealing inhuman muscle shot through with veins of putrid yellow. Her torso extends, losing definition and towering from floor to ceiling like a grotesque parody of a tree made of hairless skin. As she shifts, a putrescent odor fills the air nearly making my own eyes water. Muscular tendrils coil around Marina, and to my shock, I see my sister nuzzle one such inhuman limb with affection, utterly captivated as though by an indescribable beauty.

The Zee-thing continues growing, face vanishing into a toothy maw within the main trunk, legs splitting and extending into roots across my floor and weaving a tapestry of fleshy branches across the ceiling. The whole creature throbs in rhythm with an alien heartbeat, each beat spreading this creature’s parasitic embrace a little farther. Before too long, there will be nowhere for me to run.

“Hmm.” I grunt in thought. “Zammora the Unclean was the name of the ancient evil Marina was Chosen to slay, wasn’t it? Begins with a letter ‘Z.’ Weird coincidence, I’m sure.”

“Clever little creature. Full of lore, are you not?” Zee’s voice is even less human than before, slamming me with a sound like a swarm of wasps. “Why do you not fear me?”

“Because you’re in my house,” I answer simply. “My house, my rules.” I point to my sister. “So, is she being mind-controlled or what? Because the smell is a bit intense, even for me, and I’m intimately acquainted with rot, while Marina’s always had kind of a delicate stomach. So tell me the truth. Mind control?”

“She accepted my leash upon her mind willingly, witch. As will you.”

“Don’t count on it.” Running through my options here, and I don’t like what I’m finding. Legendary evil, no legendary sword. But a legendary evil in my house, which is either a sign of ridiculous overconfidence or a regular tactical blunder on her part. “The deal doesn’t count if I don’t get to hear Marina’s unfettered words.”

“I did not agree to that,” the horrid, quivering thing hisses.

“You don’t have to.” I snap my fingers for dramatic effect and snip the connection between my sister’s mind and her destined foe.

Immediately, Marina’s body revolts. She retches and heaves, emptying all the tea in her stomach onto my floor. She staggers, and to my surprise, the tendril holding her close allows her to stumble a couple paces away. I ignore Zee’s nightmarish growling and rush to my sister’s side. “Hey, Mari. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

She isn’t listening to me, though. A panicked gurgle escapes her throat, rising to a scream of horror. “What did you do to my mind? What did you do?“

“Shhh, shhh…” I wrap her in my embrace and feel her arms hold me back. “You’re free now. And Zammora can’t claim your mind again while you’re here. And we’ve got a deal,” I raise my voice to make sure I’m heard by the other thing in the room. “I get to hear the story of what happened with your sword and your friends. She cannot take either of us without violating a witch’s pact, at least for that long. Then we’re gonna let you make the plan, okay, Chosen One? I’ll follow your lead.”

Bloodshot eyes filled with queasy misery meet mine. “The deal. Of course. I’ll tell you everything. Let me… just give me a second.”

I’m more than happy to give Mari as long as she needs. The more I stall, the more time I have to chew on this problem. I look at Zammora, growing into the narrow gaps between my floorboards, pale tendrils reaching, grabbing, anchoring themselves to the wooden beams up above. Yes, “parasite” seems to be an apt classification, but what exactly is the nature of her parasitism?

“Zee came to us in her—urk—human form.” Marina does her best to stifle her reflexive retching. “Grau and Verle were suspicious of her, but Bernie, you know him, trusting to a fault.” She pauses again to take a deep breath and collect herself. “But she was scared. Said some dangerous people were out to kill her. And I don’t like to judge people on appearance. You know that. So I made a promise. I promised to protect her.”

An icy grip takes hold of my heart. I know better than most that a promise from some people is more powerful than words alone. Truth is one of that goddess’s virtues, after all, and her Chosen is necessarily bound to that ideal. From Mari, a promise is an unbreakable vow. That it may have been born of deception hardly matters—gods are always so damn unyielding about their principles.

“I asked Zee why she was being hunted. She told me, hhhh…” Mari’s eyes close. She pauses to take a few deep breaths again. “Told me she’d made an enemy of someone powerful and cruel. She’d been kept in prison for a long time and just recently escaped. She wanted help, and I couldn’t bear to tell her no.”

My sister turns away from me, looking back at the twisted abomination that can no longer pass for the kind of scared and trembling maiden that always tugged at Mari’s heart. I watch her mouth twist into a grimace, fighting nausea, her brow drawn into a knot with the effort of staring down Zammora’s true form. It must be a struggle to even look upon something so incomprehensibly inhuman if one is not a witch like me, well practiced in dredging the very sump of creation.

There is a beauty in rot, in parasitism, that most people struggle to see. All life is essential to life itself, however uncomfortable the feelings they may inspire. Truth be told, I’d have been willing to help Zee too, if she came to me with her honest face and directly asked me to help her kill Mari’s goddess—powerful and cruel indeed—and what is being Chosen except its own kind of prison? Yes, I certainly begrudge the goddess enough for everything she’s ever done to Mari.

“She tricked me,” my sister says. “But she didn’t lie. She never lied. So my vow held. Even when she told me who she really was, I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even tell the others because I knew that would put her in danger.”

“Devious. Hells below, I do respect that,” I admit. “It’s a real shame you chose to fuck with my sister, or things might turn out differently for us.”

“She did more than eff with me.” Mari coughs. “But that’s… beside the point. Things got weird. My friends noticed I was spending more time alone with her, that I never strayed from her side. They got suspicious. Worried. It put a strain on our friendship. Isolated me so that Zee felt like the only one I could even talk to.”

“We talked,” scrapes the voice from the throbbing trunk of flesh in my house.

“Of course you talked. I love talking. Marina loves talking. You’re not a beast of many words, but I have no doubt in her power to make anyone engage her in conversation.”

Mari smiles just a bit at my comment. We may not be kids anymore, but I’m glad I can still help her deal with stressful situations with some levity.

“Yeah, we talked. She asked me how I felt about the goddess. Zee hates her so much, and… well, it felt easier to confess some of the things I resent. Stuff I couldn’t say to my friends, who needed to believe in the power of the Chosen One.”

I blink, surprised yet again by this turn of the conversation. “You resent your goddess? You?“

Still embracing me with both arms, her hands clench into fists at my back. “My whole life, she’s been watching me, whispering in my ear, grooming me to be her perfect Chosen One. When our parents died, she told me it would make me stronger. When we were starving and homeless, she told me it would teach me compassion for the less fortunate of the world. When you broke your leg, and then it got infected, and you were fighting a fever for months while I scrambled to feed us both and get you medicine, she told me I would learn to stand on my own.”

My sister trembles in my arms. “But she didn’t just whisper. She did those things. All of them. To teach me her lessons. She broke your leg to teach me to rely on you less. She made us orphans on purpose! She told me it was all necessary, and I believed her.”

“Until we talked,” Zammora adds.

“Until we talked.” Marina nods, her head against my shoulder again. “It was seductive. A part of me wanted to believe none of our suffering was necessary. That part of me wanted an excuse to hate her for the things she did to us. I think that part of me won when I decided to tell my friends the truth about Zee.”

A mental model starts to form; I begin to grasp the nature of Zammora—what kind of parasite she is—and start imagining how to counter her. Not merely a parasite of bodies, not merely a physical thing, she infects at a conceptual level, maybe even at the level of pure ontology. Without saying much at all, her presence alone infects thought, probing for weakness, turning minds toward herself. I cast my eyes over the spreading mass of tendrils claiming my home. And she’s in my house, which could be a problem.

“When I told my friends the truth, they all assumed I was under her control. I wasn’t—not yet, anyway.”

Or so Marina believes. I’m not so sure. Big Zee probably can’t be slain, not without the kind of sword that slices through thought as well as it does flesh and bone, but maybe…

Hmm. I can close the house. Trap all three of us here permanently, removed from the real world. It would accomplish the goal of saving the world from Zammora, at the cost of my life and Mari’s. An eternity trapped here with Zammora the Unclean? No, I don’t believe in heroic sacrifice, nor in sacrificing my own sister. Not an option. So then what?

“But I should have known that no matter what I said, they’d try to fight her.” She hesitates. “Maybe I did know. Maybe that’s what part of me wanted. I was oath-bound to defend her. I… you know, it’s weird I never made a vow to protect my friends? I guess we never thought that kind of thing needed to be said. We took it for granted.”

My breath hitches. “You killed them?” Oh, Mari, no. “That must have broken your heart.”

Marina’s face buries itself deeper against me. “It did.” I can’t see her tears, but I know her well enough that I don’t need to. “And when it was over, I broke the sword. Didn’t need it anymore. With them… gone… I was the greatest threat remaining to Zee. But only as long as I still had the sword.”

“The trade is complete, witch,” Zee pronounces. “I will have Marina’s mind again.”

“Not until you explain this ‘marriage blessing’ farce,” I snap. “You won, didn’t you? Your enemy’s Chosen is disarmed and neutralized. You’re free to do whatever it is a thing like you does when it runs rampant. What could possibly have compelled you to come here telling me such nonsense about wedding each other?”

“Plum…” My sister disengages from our embrace to look me in the eye. She’s a mess—her face wet with tears, snot running from her nose, and a touch of drying vomit on her chin, where she failed to wipe it all away. It’s an expression that reminds me of some of the hardest days when we were kids and all we had was each other. “Plum, it’s not nonsense. It’s… a plan.”

“A plan.” I repeat deadpan.

“Marriage under the auspices of the goddess. I don’t exactly… Zee, you tell her.”

I raise an eyebrow at my sister’s—apparently for real—fiancée.

“You understand infection, witch.”

“Do I, now?”

“Do not dissemble. I see it in your mind. You wear your mind as a house. It is plain to me. There.” A tendril points at the shelf where I keep my unfinished knitting. “You see me as parasite.”

No hiding my thoughts from her as long as she’s in my house, I suppose. My face flushes with embarrassment at having underestimated my houseguest.

“Correct, there is nowhere to hide.”

I try not to think too hard about how much of this place—a reflection of my own mind—she’s already colonized. It’s not too late yet, but I must take care.

“Alright, then. I’ve been playing my cards face up for this whole meeting. I accept that.” I shrug. “In some ways that simplifies everything. If you truly want my blessing, tell me your plan. The real one, please. You can see I don’t have my sister’s values.”

“Yet you value truth as much as she.” Zee rumbles, vibrating the whole building with her voice.

I turn my palms toward her in a gesture of openness, mirroring hers from earlier.

“Then hear me. We are to be married according to Her foul tradition. In doing so, Her temple will incept me within her aegis. She will be unable to aim Her divine intent against me, forevermore. I will be free to enact my design while She may do aught but watch in helplessness.”

Ah, that makes sense. Zee is exactly the right kind of parasite to pull off that scheme. It absolutely requires my sister, whose position of privilege as Chosen One makes her vows uniquely binding through connection to her goddess. It’s an elegant plan, really, but for one small problem.

“Marina would have to love you, or the marriage would be flawed at its foundation. That would be exactly the sort of crack her goddess would use to escape your trap.”

I pause in thought. “Oh.”

“The mind control.” Mari says my own thought aloud. “She can make sure I love her completely, despite my…”

“Revulsion,” Zee finishes for her. “A natural human instinct when witnessing my true glory.”

Is that enough, I wonder? Ugh, I’d need to do more research to be sure. Intuitively, though, I suspect it may not suffice.

“Please. This hurts, Plum.” Mari grips my shoulders to pull my attention back to her. “I hate looking at my Zee and feeling this… nausea. Even memory, remembering the things we’ve done together…” She shudders. “Once happy memories are tainted by this gross feeling. Please, Plum.”

“Please what? Are you asking me to let her restore the chains on your mind?” It’s an unsettling demand. How can I do that to my own sister? “Just force you to love her again?”

“I do love her!” She shouts, and I wonder how much is meant to convince me, and how much to convince herself. “You don’t know what we’ve been through together. My heart loves her, Plum. It’s just my traitor brain that doesn’t understand, no matter how hard I try. It’s stupid animal instinct, that’s all. I love her, and I don’t want to touch her, but I want to want to touch her. Do you know how much that hurts? I love her, and the thought of kissing my own girlfriend makes me want to vomit! I hate feeling like this!”

Her brown eyes shine with the same intensity they always did when she set off to do something that scared her. I know her better than anyone, but I cannot tell myself I know her better than she knows herself.

“Alright, Mari.” I run my hand across her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Far be it for me to tell my sister that her wife can’t tie her up if they both want.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the thread binding her to Zee snaps back into place. All at once, the tension leaves my sister’s body, and she pauses only to give me one quick hug of gratitude before flinging herself back toward her fiancée and planting a succession of kisses along her throbbing trunk. Tendrils wrap themselves around her and pull her tighter into the embrace.

Zammora speaks again, a scaly rasp on my mind. “Do we have your blessing, then?”

I chew my thoughts some more, a plan congealing in my mind as well as over my hearth. Zee can surely read the room, but I speak the words aloud for Mari’s sake.

“I can do you one better, my future sister-in-law.” I grin. “Allow me to write both your vows.” To Mari, I ask, “is that permitted in the ceremony?”

“Yes? No reason why it wouldn’t be. Why?”

“I know the words that bind direction. I know the true name of the sin at the heart of creation. Forget hiding merely within the goddess’s aegis, how would you like to get inside her very immune system?”

“I am listening,” Zee says, her voice now tasting like a caress.

“Let’s aim higher than just the sun. Infecting the goddess herself with disease sounds like fitting revenge for all three of us. Better than a blessing, I'll give you a curse. How does that sound?”

The rumble that fills my cottage might as well have been the purr of a monstrous cat. “I will have your words. And I will keep you as well, Plum.”

I seal the new pact with a rap of knuckles on wood. “You beautiful thing, as long as Mari’s happy, and I get to stay by her side, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” I exhale in satisfaction. The long nightmare of our lives is finally over, isn’t it?

“How about another pot of tea before we get planning?”

You are the elder sibling of the Hero. They want your blessing to marry the Villain they originally set out to destroy; now sitting across from you at the same table.

[floatyflowers]

Dark!male Kim Possible and female reader and dark male Shego headcanon ?

The trip to the local café shop was supposed to be quick and simple, and you refused to inform Kim of it, as you were tired of the over-protective spy, despite him being assigned to protect you.

But again, Kim stomped over your boundaries and claimed it was 'I need to do this because it's my responsibility to keep you safe'

Well, Kim is hot and any girl would want to be with him because of his athletic body and fearless attitude.

But you want to get away from him in any way possible.

"How can I help you?"

You sighed, pushing aside the thought of Kim and his suffocating protectiveness, and focused on the barista in front of you.

"I'll have a..." you tell her your order, tapping your fingers on the counter as you pulled out your wallet.

The barista nodded and began preparing your drink, while you took a moment to appreciate the rare freedom you had away from Kim.

It was peaceful, no lectures, no hovering, no overbearing presence watching your every move.

And surely no unnecessary flirting.

That peace, however, was short-lived.

The café door swung open with a loud creak, and a tall figure walked in, dressed in a black and green attire.

You barely had time to register the sharp emerald eyes before a gloved hand clamped over your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you backward.

"Not a sound, sweetheart," a smooth, amused voice purred in your ear.

"Wouldn’t want to make a scene now, would we?"

Your heart pounded as you struggled, but your captor’s grip was hard.

Shego.

You had heard of him before.

The infamous mercenary who worked for Drakken, someone Kim had warned you about repeatedly.

But hearing about him and experiencing his strength firsthand were two different things entirely.

“Looks like I just got myself a little prize,” Shego mused, dragging you toward the exit.

The café patrons froze in shock, some even whispering, others too afraid to intervene.

Nobody is going to stop him.

What a bunch of cowards.

Just as Shego reached the door, the glass window shattered.

A blur of red and black slammed into Shego with full force, knocking you from his grip and sending you stumbling to the ground.

"Not on my watch!"

Kim’s voice was sharp, his expression dark with anger as he positioned himself between you and Shego.

Shego's confident smirk widens, as he holds you against him by the waist.

Kim’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Back off, Shego." He orders.

"You’re not taking her anywhere."

Shego chuckled, rolling his shoulders.

"Relax, Kimmie. I was just gonna borrow her. Not like they actually want you breathing down their neck all the time." He tilted his head toward you, smirking.

"Isn’t that right, sweetheart? I bet a little excitement sounds way more fun than being babysat 24/7."

"No, it doesn't, especially if you are trying to kidnap me." you point out.

Shego chuckled, tilting his head in amusement.

"Ah, come on, sweetheart. Kidnap is such a harsh word. I prefer ‘taking.’ it's much better" His grip on you tightened as he shifted his weight, clearly ready for another move.

Kim didn’t hesitate, he lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed straight for Shego’s jaw.

But Shego was fast...too fast.

He sidestepped at the last second, using his free hand to catch Kim’s fist mid-air, the impact causing a sharp gust of wind through the café.

"You always were predictable, Kimmie," Shego taunted.

You took the opportunity to act, stomping hard on Shego’s foot and elbowing him in the ribs.

He grunted in surprise, his grip loosening just enough for you to break free.

You scrambled back, heart racing, pressing yourself against the counter as Kim launched another attack.

The two fought harshly in a blur of movement punches, dodges, counterattacks, until Shego, with a knowing smirk, suddenly stopped and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright. I’m done playing around."

Kim hesitated, eyes narrowing.

"What’s your true motivation?"

Shego’s smirk deepened.

"I just needed to confirm something."

"Confirm what?" You asked, confused.

Shego tilted his head toward you, then to Kim.

"That she is important to you. And guess what? Now that I know exactly how much, this just got way more interesting."

And then, before Kim could react, Shego threw a small metallic sphere onto the ground. It exploded in a burst of green smoke, obscuring everything from view.

You coughed, eyes watering, as you felt a sudden gust of air, Shego was escaping.

By the time the smoke cleared, he was gone.

Kim cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Damn it."

You turned to him, your chest still heaving.

"What did he mean by ‘confirming something’? Why would he care about how important I am to you?"

Kim clenched his jaw, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally speaking

"Because�� if he knows you’re valuable to me, it means you just became leverage."

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

"You mean—"

Kim nodded grimly.

"This wasn’t a random attack. Shego and Drakken have plans for you."

And that’s when your phone vibrated in your pocket.

A message from an unknown number.

See you soon, sweetheart. This is just the beginning. – S

Your fingers tightened around the device as dread curled in your stomach.

Shego wasn’t just after you, he wanted you.

However, there is something Kim didn't tell you and that is...Drakken is your father, that's why your mother tasked him with your protection.

But he can't tell you that and just made up an excuse.

Kim sees your worried expression, and wraps his hands around you from behind, placing his chin on your left shoulder.

"Don't worry, I will protect you from him even if it means I have to kill Shego."

[eschairsnotebook]

FLESH & FABRIC

The air inside the car was thick with incense and intent. Ava sat in the driver’s seat, fingers tracing symbols onto the soft cotton of Ethan’s favorite yellow shirt, whispering under her breath.

Outside, the cheer squad’s car wash was in full swing—wet bodies, high-pitched giggles, the smell of soap and sweat. Brianna, queen of the blonde clones, flicked suds from her fingertips, laughing at something her best friend had said. She looked around expectantly for her boyfriend Travis who was already 30 mins late.

Ava curled her lip. Brianna would not wait for long.

She turned to Ethan. “Put it on.”

He sighed but humored her, yanking the shirt over his head. The moment it touched his skin, he froze.

Then, he swelled.

It was instant, violent, undeniable. His chest heaved outward, thickening into heavy slabs of muscle that forced the torn neckline wider, exposing a creeping spread of dark hair. His shoulders broadened, his arms surged with size—biceps swelling, forearms tightening, veins rising like rope beneath his skin.

His breath hitched, then deepened, voice dipping into something low, cocky, effortlessly sexual.

“The fuck?” He flexed his fingers, staring at the hands of someone else.

His thighs thickened, denim straining, his entire frame shifting—longer, stronger, overwhelming the cramped space of the car. The scent hit next, a wave of pure masculine musk, thick with sweat, leather, and heat.

Ava clenched her thighs together.

Ethan turned his head, and it wasn’t Ethan anymore. His face was sharper, scruff darkening along a cocky, knowing smirk. His eyes, deep and playful, locked onto hers with something new, confident, a little cruel.

He exhaled slow and began lazily dragging a hand through the damp curls on his chest, smirking when he caught Ava staring.

“It really fucking worked,” he said in disbelief, voice dripping with amusement. He knew his girlfriend was a "witch," but didn't know she was actually a... witch. The hardest step for her plan to get her revenge on Briana turned out to be not hard at all.

Outside, Brianna laughed again.

His smirk sharpened. “Let’s go say hi.”

The car door swung open. Heat spilled into the air—thick, humid, clinging. Ethan—no, Travis—stepped out like he owned the pavement, bigger, broader, drenched in cocky, effortless dominance. He could get used to this.

The world outside the carwash didn’t know what had just been unleashed.

Ava stayed in the driver’s seat, pulse hammering as she watched his new, hulking frame stretch in the midday sun—his yellow shirt ripped open, exposing that sweat-dampened, hair-dusted chest, the scent of him already intoxicating.

He rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers like a predator testing its claws. Then, he glanced over his shoulder at her, smirking like the devil himself.

“Coming?”

It wasn’t a question.

Across the lot, Brianna flicked her ponytail, laughing with the other cheerleaders, completely unaware.

Travis exhaled slow, deep. Hungry.

His smirk widened.

“Time to have some fun.”

Eva concealed a grin as she replied, "You have no idea."

Travis stopped mid-step. His cocky smirk flickered—just for a second—before his body jerked forward, sudden, decisive, not entirely his own.

His eyes widened. What the fuck—?

His foot slammed down. Then another step. His spine straightened, shoulders squaring, arms swinging in a perfect predatory rhythm as he stalked toward Brianna. Powerful. Inevitable. A beast on a leash. Ethan recovered control.

“Briaaaanna,” he called musically, his voice low, velvety, threading through the air like a whisper in the dark. His lips suddenly curved into a grin—but it wasn’t his grin.

It was hers.

Ava sat in the car, legs crossed, fingers flexing as if pulling invisible strings. She barely had to try. His new body—stronger, sweat-slicked, dripping with unchecked testosterone—responded instantly, perfectly.

Ethan's pulse raced. He could feel it—his throat shaping the words, his new muscles obeying—but the will behind them? Not his.

Not anymore.

Oh, fuck.

His pace never faltered, predatory and smooth, closing the distance between them as Brianna turned, flicking soapy water from her fingertips.

When she saw him, she stilled.

Her eyes flicked to his ripped-open shirt, his heavy, sweat-drenched chest, the cocky glint in his eye. She swallowed.

Ava smiled inside his skull.

“Oh, babe,” she purred, voice slipping from his lips like silk, mocking, intimate, laced with something dangerous.

Ava sank deeper into the driver’s seat, exhaling slow as the connection solidified. Her fingers flexed—and so did his.

"Travis" took a step forward. Then another. But it wasn’t him moving. It was her.

From inside his body, she could feel everything. The stretch of his massive thighs, the lazy bounce of his swollen pecs, the humid air clinging to his sweat-slick skin. The way the fabric of his torn shirt rubbed against his ridged stomach, damp and tight. She could smell herself on him—his own musk tangled with the faint trace of her incense, her magic, her will.

He belonged to her. A perfect, massive puppet.

She let her fingers ghost across the steering wheel, and in front of her, Travis’s hands did the same—running along his heaving chest, dragging through the damp curls of his pecs.

Brianna turned at the sound of his footsteps. She lit up when she saw him, just as Ava knew she would.

“Travis!” She bounced on her toes, suds slipping down her bare shoulders, her tiny tank top clinging wet to her skin. “Finally! Thought you were gonna leave me hanging out here with all these losers.”

Ava curled her fingers into a fist.

Travis’s cock twitched.

She felt it. The sudden rush of heat pooling between his legs, the pulse of thickening weight, the ache, the power. A slow, filthy smirk curled his lips as he looked down at Brianna, and Ava felt that, too.

Brianna had no idea she wasn’t looking at him.

Ava licked her lips, pulse thrumming. She could do anything. Make him touch, make him speak.

She tested it. Opened her mouth.

And through his lips, his deep, husky voice, the words poured out.

“Damn, babe.” His tone dripped with cocky amusement. “You look good all wet like that.”

Brianna blushed. “Shut up,” she laughed, flicking a soapy hand at him.

Ava’s fingers twitched. Travis caught Brianna’s wrist mid-motion, gripping it—gently, but firm. The way he had her now, she was right against his chest, her fingers brushing the thick hair clinging to his pecs.

Ava could feel the heat of her body pressing into him, the softness of her skin against his hard, muscular frame.

Brianna swallowed. Her breath hitched.

Travis’s smirk didn’t waver.

Neither did Ava’s.

This was going to be fun.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Wrath Fueled By Victory | Satan Victory Card React | Spoilers

ITS BEEN A LONG TIME COMIN' I'm very sorry for the wait ya'll I was suppose to post this literally like before January was over and it's now nearly mid-February 💀

Ya'll know the drill, since this is a NP card, heavily summarized, a few screenshots, the usual.

Though I will tell you...this card was a MAJOR turn around from his Torture card in terms of pacing, writing, his personality shining through and through. And that date story???

Satan wants me to marry him I guess.

Butttt let's get this show on the road~

Summary

So it seems Satan is upset today because the Explosive Sphere event (wth lmaooo) has had so many victories by Gehenna that they are removing it. Like, no one else gets a chance to win because it's biased toward long-range snipers. (okay yah I guess I get that)

And surprise, surprise we get a cameo from the big granddaddy himself, Solomon! It appears that this card starts with a blast from the past, and Solomon's influence is seen in real time. Like he literally just whispers to Satan and he calms down just like that. Levi is even like >:( sit next to me and being semi-clingy and I'm just here like??? Damn that personality didn't transfer over to MC at all sorry 😭

The narration even pointed out that it wasn't that Solomon used overt logic or strength, he was simply just present, had a nice voice, and was just himself. Literally he's just that guy.

It's official, the Calvary Battles replaced the Exploding Sphere event, we're now in the future and things are underway and Satan is hyping up his men to win. Violence is allowed, so it sounds like the devils from each country are just gonna beat each other's asses until someone passes out essentially.

And the story reflects back to Luci's victory card, which honestly that shit was wild as it is. But it's nice to know that these themed cards are connected and therefore...canon lol (at least for whatever's happening, I imagine this is MC's everyday life and how it would be realistically during their time in Hell aside from the things happening in the main story)

It begins, each country planning out their battle strategies! As we see what Gehenna is up to, basically using 6 devils together in an "iron maiden" like formation with bombs attached to themselves (wild...) we have Hades (who sent Foras to spy on the Gehenna devils...) and they are using the 9 Apostles that will come out from 9 coffins, Levi will be wearing rings (sounds similar to the infinity gauntlet lmao who is he thanos?) to show his bond with them so they can work with Hades.

And not only that ya'll, a fly was spying on Hades...and we go over to Abyssos and they plan on hiring Abaddon devils from the Red Light District as mercenaries! (Nabe's idea btw, Stolas apparently just wanted to shoot everyone too the little angry birb) And then, while folks in Abyssos were placing their votes for a bet...there's this one devil that's confident that Abyssos will lose? Turns out....he's a spy for Tartaros 😭 (this is so wild ya'll)

I want to add that Tartaros had a transforming fortrace and they didn't even have plans for a stage 3 and Mammon was like "Ah pay the devil who suggested stage 3 and we'll get right to it" MAMMON PL SSSSSSSS what do you mean you didn't have more than two stages helpppppp.

And now, we're also looking into Paradise Lost, Gamigin wants to participate so badly to show that healer's aren't weak, even offering to turn into a complete dragon or to lend Lucifer his powers? (I bet he can do that tbh) and this entire display of the other nobles treating Gamigin softly about it, has Luci convinced to join in the battles (seems like he was going to not participate just out of choice, since I mean he won the horse races and got his prize already)

Then we get a visitor??? ZAGAN THE BABES <3 He shows up to Paradise Lost to ask the nobles to not participate this time around, only because he's worried that some devil's may actually die this time because MC is the prize. He doesn't want Satan most of all to get hurt, and it really shows us more of Zagan's personality. He went there of his own accord, is worried about his King and others, and is asking for standby help to prevent a possibly tragedy. Love him.

I'll be very brief about the battle, Satan won lmao. And it wasn't like the other's didn't try it's just...even with all the spying and cheating, Satan still came out on top and he did it so flawlessly too.

And the way he grabbed MC as his prize and whisked them away? I love it when it does that. So cocky, so....him. Phewww

So I'mma just say rn, I needed one of Beleth's cigarette's after reading the smut with Satan. Like ya'll we got backshots, for whatever reason MC was describing being fucked like a bitch in heat, but whatever I might as well be cause I'm a sucker for backshots and that's something Satan should like too because it gives him good range to smack that ass.

Also, so commanding, being mad about MC being so cute, saying that he's in charge so there's no reason MC should be ordering him around. MC gave him head, he was throatfucking, and because he had consumed devil's blood beforehand it seems that made him harder, bigger (more swollen), and just more unhinged and hornier than usual.

Bonus: they came at the same time, after ya know he made them cum like 9 times before that

And one thing Satan is always gonna do? Put MC to sleep. Which happened, he was being cute at the end, and MC just passes out. All of this in an alleyway mind you...Satan freaky asf fucking outside with the possibility of getting caught.

Screenshots!!

Okay Levi didn't let me down, he always got something to say...but this time??? All he's doing is affirming my ship delusions again

And damn Grandpa Solo....okay

He really said "make sure you get that ready for me" meaning....your hole MC...he's got a lot of time to make up since the horse racing event

AYO??????

Masked men are my kink so, Amy and I bout to fuck na s t y yyyyyyyy (though this seems dangerous and he can't see out of the damn thing lmao)

lemme suck them titties

Mammon out here got a damn transformer and bringing it to the fight I'm done lmaooooooo

Oh??? But they say he can't turn back into his devil self if he transforms....but me being me....

i'm down for full dragon Gamigin let's go

this sums up how I felt about this particular thing

Someone get this man some oranges to help him calm down lmaooo

Aight PB stop fueling me with arsenal...good arsenal at that because word on the street is....i might have written a little something something during my away time....

He is so boyfriend, I'm crying like??? This face???

"It's starting to hurt..." and he was referring to his dick....my gawd let me grind on it and make it hurt morrrrreeeeeeeeeeee

IDK IM FEELING SO MUCH EMOTION RN

*also to note this position he's sitting in for this card was my favorite and he kept his shoes on idk I was feeling things*

Date Story and Chat Summary!

I think it's funny that Satan pretty much just says outloud that he had good sex with MC and everyone is like :O and MC is like 🙃🙃🙃💀😭 and I'm over here like??? Okay, now I do understand not wanting your business out there, but???? Lol

Paimon thing: He likes shy ppl and certified hoes who open their legs too, so basically ya'll you're his type no matter what I guess💀

So the date ends up being that he takes MC to his private motorcyle repair shop! He's being so domestic and soft here you almost forget he gets angry and prefers to fuck roughly lmao

But also, a big thing we learn is Satan's love language of physical touch. He doesn't say things with words, it's all actions, so you could even say that Acts of Service, is also another love language for him! He really is very affectionate, and I love that so much about him.

But the main point being that he treated this date like how any regular degular human boyfriend would, and I think...that's really what sets him apart from the other devils! He has that sense of "normal humanity" to him when he feels like it and it brings you back to a sense of comfort. Now, I have yet to observe this behavior from the other devils, as I feel it's touch and go from what we get per story, BUT yes...

Btw it seems that Satan really likes bringing up how good the sex is, because he was doing that in the chats and even had a point in time where he was like "yeah it's big again, I'm going to you now." Like my guy literally was like

my dick hard so, i'mma bout to come fuck you <3

While also texting on his bike at that...like? lmao

Fun fact: During the hell events, the seraphim and the angels used to come down to try and take advantage of that but they pretty much got beaten up and when Luci started participating they pretty much stopped showing up altogether

Also, it seems Levi really was upset about losing twice 💀 but strangely enough, Satan doesn't think he's the petty type (I beg to differ, maybe not petty towards you Satan). And he thinks he's a real man even though others call him feminine. This is interesting to bring up though because I'm like...huh yeah Levi's a pretty boy, that's his thing, though I don't think it's a hinderance to anything. that attitude sure fucking is though.

And there we have it folks!!! That's pretty much everything in the card I can sum up for. It's quite obvious my score on this card is....

10/10 let's go

I really did enjoy this card way more than Satan's Torture one. Again, it's mostly because it had the same writing format at Levi's Torture card. A bunch of build up, some lore thrown in, some comedy, and then it leads up to the smut and it's pretty much it from there. Not solely focused on the smut only, it was pretty long, and we get to see the nobles and kings interact once again. Now, sadly since this was a true NP card, that means if you didn't get him this time around, you'll have to wait for them to bring it back in the future. Which I would recommend getting this card if you're a Satan fan! The date story was super cute too.

Now...it's on to Mammon's Victory card which from a quick glance, it was much shorter? Man they never do that devil justice when it comes to creating card content from him majority of the time, BUT I'll see ya there <3

[theambitiouswoman]

Want to change your self image? Try adopting an alter ego 😎

Anxiety, doubting yourself & impulsivity can all feel overwhelming at times. But did you know that adopting an alter ego can significantly reduce anxiety & improve self control? This psychological technique has been proven to help people detach from immediate stressors & approach challenges with a calm rational mindset. By imagining yourself as a confident or composed persona, you can create emotional distance from stress & become more resilient in tough situations. Because it’s not you, it’s your alter ego.

This approach works because it reframes how you view yourself. Instead of being bogged down by negative our thoughts & self criticism, you take on a new identity—one that helps you navigate life’s obstacles with a clear mind. A lot of celebrities, athletes, performers & successful people actually create alter egos and talk about them in third person. This helps give them confidence and create a meticulous ideal image.

HOW TO BUILD HIM/HER

Accept your current self image—

Before you can change, you need to acknowledge where you are. Accept your current self as your starting point. This step is crucial because you can’t truly move forward if you’re not honest about where you are right now. Without judgment, accept who you are in this moment and recognize it as the foundation for your new transformation.

Decide who you want to become—

Next, think about where you want to end up. Who inspires you? What qualities do they have that you admire? Why do they inspire you? Use these questions to shape your vision of your alter ego. Picture the version of yourself who has all the traits you desire—confidence, calmness, resilience, or whatever else speaks to you.

Creating a new self image is about envisioning the person you want to be & identifying the qualities that make them stand out. This alter ego isn’t about pretending to be someone else—it’s about stepping into the best version of yourself & becoming that person, day by day.

Break the new self image into behaviors—

Now, it’s time to turn your vision into action. How would your new self behave? What habits would they have? Would they spend their time differently? How would they respond to challenges? To make your alter ego a reality, you need to translate these qualities into concrete behaviors.

Start by focusing on building one habit at a time. For example, if your alter ego is confident, what actions would they take that reflect that confidence? Would they speak up more often? Would they take more risks? How would they handle setbacks?

Ask yourself questions like: If I were already this new version of myself, how would I spend my day? What would I stop doing? What would I prioritize? The answers to these questions will show the behaviors that align with your alter ego. Once you adopt these behaviors and turn them into habits, your new self image will begin to take shape.

Consistency is Key—

Transforming into your alter ego takes time, and it won’t happen overnight. The more you practice these new behaviors, the more they will become second nature. But consistency is key—stick with the habits, and slowly but surely. you’ll start to embody the qualities of your alter ego. You’ll notice a shift in your mindset, your confidence & your ability to handle challenges.

Adopting an alter ego creates emotional distance from your current challenges. It helps you detach from the negative emotions tied to anxiety, self doubt & impulsivity. When you view yourself through the lens of this new persona, you can approach life’s obstacles with a clearer mind and more emotional resilience.

Go be them :)

[lemotmo]

Ryan gave same answer to buddie question he is been giving from the moment bi buck was canon. He didn’t say in same words like Eddie is straight and buck Eddie are brothers but he did say the same in so many words like friendship between straight and queer characters is an important storyline and that’s priority than anything else

I always try to ignore interviews especially Ryan’s answers to buddie questions as what they think is not important and what the show is trying to show is important. But at this point I am not really sure if I should trust the show as Ryan is the one playing Eddie and his answer at this point of time is same and not even vague like let’s see where the script goes or I am ok with what ever the story takes. Just don’t know what to expect at this point

To be clear I am not saying Ryan is homophonic or anything, he seems like a kind person who treats everyone equally and with respect. But with all his answers in interviews, I get a feeling like he is not so much comfortable with playing a gay character (for what ever reason I don’t know and I don’t question or judge people choices as it doesn’t harm any real people).

If Eddie is still straight by 8.14 or 15, I don’t have much hope

Nonny, all do respect, but I have to ask this:

Why did you bring this to my blog? You must have seen my enthusiasm about Ryan's latest interview and how it has only strenghtened my conviction that Buddie is going canon. So why would you post this here when you already know what I'm going to tell you?

I also don't understand your reaction here. I've been in this fandom for years now and I've never been more confident that it's going canon than now. Before season 7 I never even thought Buddie would get a fighting chance.

What did you expect Ryan to say in this interview? 8b hasn't aired yet, so he can't disclose any of the upcoming storylines. He was always going to rehash some of his earlier answers from previous interviews, because what else could he possibly answer?

The inevitable Buddie question came and -once again- he had to find a way to answer it without spoiling anything. What could he possibly have said? He can't just come out and say that Buddie is going canon at this point, because it hasn't happened yet.

So he said the only thing he could say, the message that no matter who you are and who you love in life, it's important to support each other. Which is a beautiful message in itself.

He isn't saying anything else than Oliver did in his pre-biBuck days. It's the same 'trying to talk about it, but not allowed to say anything' kind of thing. 🤷‍♀️

And what about the question where Ryan was asked what advice he would give Eddie? His answer was so telling. It hinted at Eddie not being straight in such a profound way. That was basically the only thing he could say when it comes to Eddie's sexuality storyline.

The man's hands were and are tied. They have been for a long time. And no, he isn't afraid to play a gay man. How do I know this? Because he has actually played a gay man before in another project. He also talked about, on multiple times, the fact that he would be all for Buddie if the story would go there. Those are not the words of a man who doesn't want to play a gay man.

If he really wouldn't want to play a gay man, he would just state it out loud. He would say something like 'Yeah, the Buddie thing is a really fun thing. Oliver and me joke about it, but it isn't going to happen. Eddie is very straight and he will never be interested in Buck like that.' BAM! Just like that he would make it clear to everyone that he isn't willing to play that part and it isn't happening.

Now, if you want an example of an interview by someone who really doesn't want to play a gay character, but had no other choice because it was the only job he could get? Look no further and Google one of Lou Fjr's unhinged interviews where he talks about how he doesn't think it's always appropriate for two characters to make out on screen, but that rule only seems to apply to male/male relationships. He never seemed to have any issues with making out with women on screen before. 🙄

But anyway, let's not get distracted here by talking about that man and let's get back onto the subject of Ryan's interview.

I know that I probably won't be able to change your mind on this Nonny and I'm not even going to attempt it, because in all honesty? I'm tired of all the nay-saying and the inevitable spiral of fear that happens every single time when something happens in this fandom.

I don't know what you want? I've been in so many fandoms, shipping ships that NEVER became canon even though they should have. There was always subtext of course, but that's where it ended. The rest of the story we (the fandom) had to build up from scratch.

For Buddie though--

This isn't just about subtext anymore Nonny. This is fullblown TEXT! It's all there in the show, in the PR, in the interviews, in social media, in Family Fued and Jeopardy! What more could you possibly want?

If you don't believe it by now? There is nothing I can say or do to convince you, so you will just have to wait and see as the episodes air.

Tell you what though--

I predict that we will find out about Eddie's sexuality sometime before or at the very last in episode 8x15. Bold statement, I know. But I feel very confident about this. Oh and Buck? I'm willing to bet that all of his spiraling will finally lead to him realising he is in love with Eddie and this will be shown to us even sooner than Eddie's coming out.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now excuse me while I go bask in the glory of the impending promise that is Buddie canon. 😏

[jjscrybaby]

What if sweetheart kook’s male cousin visits and JJ and JB spot them together at the mall. And they look like friendly and all cause they are relatives but JJ doesn’t know it so he gets insecure thinking the reader finally realised he is not enough for her. When the reader invites him over he thinks she’s gonna break the news of break but instead he meets her cousin, gets relieved and they have a movie night.

jj maybank x sweetheart!reader | resolved angst | (jealous!jj, misunderstandings, reader & jj being a bit oblivious, fluffy ending!)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“This is so fuckin’ boring,” JJ complained for the sixth time in the last hour. John B needed a perfect gift for Sarah’s upcoming birthday, and apparently that meant JJ had to spend his Saturday afternoon in the mall. The only person he’d go to the mall with without complaining was you.

“Just shut up. I told you I’d buy you churros,” John B sighed, looking through the array of necklaces that the girl behind the counter had gotten out for him. The majority were out of his price range, but it was still nice to get ideas for the future.

As JJ leant against the wall, subtly hitting his vape under his sleeve, he felt his mind go to you. He’d texted a few times, asked if you wanted to come over before he knew he’d be stuck with John B, but you’d said you were busy. He assumed that meant hanging out with the few Kook girls you actually liked. He was halfway through thinking about if he should buy you something when he looked up and out the shop window, his eyes landing on a sight he never wanted to see.

You sat on a bench, a boy next to you showing you something on his phone. You were giggling, swatting at his arm as the two of you shared some fries. JJ’s face fell, his stomach dropped and he suddenly had an urge to throw up. Sure, you weren’t his girlfriend, but it was a known fact that you liked each other. It was just a waiting game at the moment, him trying to plan how to gain the confidence to pop the question, but maybe he’d left it too long. Maybe you’d thought about it and realised you didn’t really like him. He was a Pogue, that was all he’d ever be.

“I’m leaving,” JJ announced, catching John B’s attention who turned to him in confusion. He looked past JJ, seeing the same thing the blonde was staring intently at.

“Shit, Jay,” John B muttered, placing his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s not what it looks like. They’re just talking.”

“Fuck that,” JJ scoffed. “I’m not a mug. If she doesn’t want me, fine, but I’m not lettin’ myself be played by a Kook.”

“Hey. Don’t talk about her like she doesn’t mean shit to you when we both know she does. Let her explain, alright? Don’t blow your shit and ruin this, okay? You’ll regret it,” John B warned.

Thankfully, John B picked out a necklace and the two of them were back at the Chateau within the hour. JJ sulked in his room, smoking a joint and thinking about the way that boy had you giggling. You’re not the kind of girl to lead someone on, he knows that, that’s why he’s so confused. If you were seeing someone you would have told him… right?

It was half seven when his phone pinged, your contact showing up on the screen with a text. ‘come over for a movie night? my parents aren’t here <333’. What was this? The other dude gets you for lunch and he gets you for dinner? How is that fair? He wanted to ignore you, but the little hearts you’d added to the message had him softening. Before he knew it, he was on his bike heading over to your place.

You opened the door within seconds, little pyjamas on with a sweet smile playing on your lips. You squealed, happy to see him as you threw your arms around him like it had been weeks since you last saw each other. As hurt as he was, he couldn’t help but hug you back — inhaling the scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Missed you,” you murmured, smiling up at him like you hadn’t been with another man all day.

“Yeah, uh, missed you too,” he muttered. Your face scrunched up in confusion, he was normally a lot more reciprocate of your excitement.

Your hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him inside your house. You lead him into the living room and he froze. The boy was sat on your couch, scrolling on his phone. What was he doing here? Had you invited JJ over just to break the news that you just wanted to be friends? He’d try, sure, but he wasn’t sure he could go back to being just friends.

“Oh! Jay, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is JJ,” you introduced, a smile on your face as you looked between them.

“Ah, this is JJ,” Daniel smirked, a teasing tone to his voice that had your cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you go upstairs? We’re having movie night,” you explained. “I mean… you can stay, I guess. But you won’t want to, we’re watching rom-coms and you hate—”

“I can take a hint,” he interrupted with a chuckle, getting up from the couch. He gave JJ a warm smile and ruffled your hair as he passed. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He called as he disappeared up the stairs.

“What is he doing here?” JJ didn’t mean to sound so aggressive, but he couldn’t help it. Why were you acting like this was completely normal?

“Hm?” You hummed, turning to look at him worriedly. “Um, he’s visiting for the week from college.”

“Your parents know he’s here?” Now he knows he isn’t going to win this competition. He hasn’t even met your parents! How is this fair? The first girl he properly falls for and she’s got some secret boyfriend.

“Well, yeah.”

“And they’re just fine with that?” He scoffed, pulling away from the hold you had on his arm.

“Well, he is my mom’s nephew,” you mumbled, looking at him anxiously. You weren’t sure what you’d done wrong. You knew you hadn’t seen JJ today, but you hadn’t seen your older cousin since Christmas and you didn’t think it was polite to not spend at least one day showing him around the island.

JJ’s head snapped towards you. He was silent for a moment, before a laugh left his mouth. Daniel was your cousin. JJ had spent the entire day freaking out over you having a boyfriend when said boyfriend was your cousin. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I was a dick.”

“I’m confused,” you said softly, stepping towards him hesitantly.

He strode over to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed an apologetic kiss to your temple. “I saw you earlier, at the mall—”

“You were at the mall? Without me?” You pouted, interrupting him.

“It was torture, trust me, but not as fuckin’ torturous as me thinkin’ you had some secret man that you’d kept from me,” he confessed.

“Did I… did I not mention I was hanging out with my cousin?” You were sure you’d told him, but now that you really thought about maybe that was Sarah you’d told he was coming to visit. Your cheeks heated up, maybe because you felt guilty but also because you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest that had appeared once you realised that JJ had been jealous.

“No, baby,” he chuckled, looking down at you. “I should’ve asked, though. Shouldn’t have been a dick, ‘m sorry. And when your cousin comes back down I won’t stare at him like I’m gonna kill him.”

“Mkay,” you hummed with a giggle, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Only want you, Jayj. Thought you’d have worked that out by now.”

This time it was his turn to blush. He rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips as he lifted you up and sat down on the couch with you in his lap. He kissed your jaw, stroking your cheek as he stared at you in awe.

“You’re the only one I want, too.”

[dekariosclan]

Hmmmm. 🤔 Just thinking of my perpetual singleness. How do you think Gale would act towards someone who maybe doesn't believe that he really fell in love with them? Or maybe doesn't think his feelings will last?

No pressure to answer of course!

I feel like his first reaction would be grand gestures, but then he realizes that they may come off as fake to a tav who is already having trouble trusting. It may stump him for awhile! He would have to put that genius mind to the test for this one.

Ah anon, I so wish I could tinker with the Confidence™️ stat of every Galemancer who writes in with a question or uncertainty over whether Gale would love them because of ‘insert-perfectly-normal-human-trait-that-our-shallow-modern-society-has-deemed-unworthy.’

I’d give you all 20s in Confidence, because that’s how Gale sees his beloved: a perfect 20.

Actually, no! I take that back. Gale would consider them higher than a 20. What’s the highest a DND stat can go with bonuses, etc? Because it’d be that number plus 5. Maybe plus 10.

….actually, you know what, is 99 an achievable number?

(ok you get the idea)

Here’s the thing: the feelings and uncertainty that you just described are ✨exactly✨ what Gale is feeling when he realizes Tav is in love with him.

He simply can’t believe it:

And what I truly think would happen, IF Tav were insecure about their relationship at all, is that Gale wouldn’t even have to do any grand gestures or pondering over how to convince Tav of his love—because he would already be proving it to them every single day.

He would be going out of his way to prove HE was worthy of THEIR love, because he would struggle to believe that someone as wonderful and gorgeous and amazing as Tav would love someone like him: a shamed wizard with nothing but failed relationships (both mortal and immortal) under his belt. Would Tav’s feelings for him last? Gods, he hoped so…

And if Tav hasn’t been a relationship before? If this amazing wonderful Tav is SO wonderful that any potential suitors were too foolhardy or too cowardly to scoop them up?

Well! Gale will simply need to prove his love tenfold for this beloved Tav, this incredible Tav, whom, for some unknowable reason, chose to be with him!

Anon, do you see what I mean? Tav would have no time to feel unworthy or insecure—because they’d be too busy loving and being loved by Gale 💜

———

Anon, you might also be interested in a slightly different/shorter version of this ask regarding how Gale would respond to a romanced Tav who explained that no one had ever been interested in them before.

[voxisdaddy]

Hey! Chito is back with something (finally). Anyway, here’s something I’ve lowkey been thinking about for awhile now~

Nah but imagine meeting Lucifer and getting closer over time. Theirs some obvious tension there that’s growing, a bunch of romantic feelings and you get to know one another better, intensifying those feelings. Now imagine Lucifer lowkey bragging about how he bagged the first mans wife, then got his second in bed too. He’d tell you this with a grin, expecting you to be impressed or amused that he managed to screw over Adam—the very man who leads the exorcist army to eradicate sinners in hell—twice. Though you don’t see it that way. His heart stutters and sinks a little when your expression falls a bit and you put just a little bit of distance between the two of you. Whether or not you like Adam, part of you imagines what it would be like to have been in Adam’s position all those years ago. You have a wife, who’s subsequently stolen from you but whatever. You get a new wife, someone new to love, someone who is apart of you, and the same guy who steals your wife tricks her into eating an apple and then later sleeps with her—taking his second wife too. That sounds…heartbreaking. If you were in Adam’s shoes, maybe you’d grow to resent Lucifer too. Lucifer tries to laugh it off, clearly awkward that you’re now awkward about it and have this mild look of disgust and disappointment on your face. He takes a step closer to you in hopes of maybe moving past what was just said in full confidence but then you dismiss yourself politely and quickly. ‘He’s the king of hell for a reason’, you’d shake your head as you disappear back to your room.

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about this, especially when we saw Able—Adam’s son—in the official Hazbin Hotel art piece for Christmas. I kept seeing a lot of comments/fan theories about how Abel might actually be Lucifer’s child and not Adam’s. And quite honestly, that just makes me feel so sad for Adam ☹️ I love Lucifer very much. Very, very much, but the whole bragging about how he homewrecked the same guy twice and is still proud of it like millions and millions of years later is such an ick for me 😭 i know its a bit deeper than that and we have a lot to uncover in the upcoming seasons, but it still makes me sad for Adam lol

[whovianofmidgard]

Summary: There is only one thing that can shut down Fëanor's ranting and raving once he has started: being handed a baby. Any baby, really.

Author's Note: Inspired by this post by @istaricelebelasse Hope you like this silly thing I made from your post!

Snippet:

The first memory Nolofinwë has of Fëanáro he is only a tiny elfling not even a full year old. At that age Nolo stumbles more times than actually walks and has yet to say his first word, though mostly because he prefers observing others until he is confident that he can properly mimic their pronunciation.  

In his memory Nolofinwë is being entertained by his big sister Findis in his play pen when he hears shouting coming from the other room. He does not understand what is happening or what is being said but he recognises the raised voices of his Ammë - upset - and his Atya - beseeching. However, there is a third voice, an unfamiliar voice, that is angry and hateful and for a small baby like Nolo it is very frightening.  

His laughter abruptly fades and the funny voices Findis is making his dolls talk is no longer distracting. Soon enough Nolo's bottom lip starts to quiver and the first hiccups of incoming tears bubble up.  

Findis quickly picks Nolofinwë out of the playpen, holding him close, and she says, "Don't cry, baby. It's just Náro being stupid."  

Nolo doesn't know who stupid Náro is but he doesn't like that he's angry. However, the warmth of his big sister's arms is nice, and it comforts him enough to momentarily stave off his crying.  

Findis hoists him onto her hip for a better angle to hold him, and confusingly to Nolo, she heads for the door where the arguing is coming from and not away from it as Nolo would prefer. As they enter the shouting becomes louder, and before Nolofinwë realises what is happening he is being handed off to someone else.  

"Here, hold this," Findis talks over the argument, and Nolo is suddenly being unceremoniously dumped into unfamiliar hands.  

Then suddenly there is silence, and Nolo has his first ever look at his elder brother.  

He looks a lot like Atya is Nolo's first observation. The second is that Fëanáro's hands holding him under the arm pits and resting on his ribs are hotter than anyone else who had ever held him. As Nolofinwë stares with big surprised and somewhat confused baby eyes the ugly scowl on Fëanáro's face falls away, and after a long moment of staring back at his tiny half-brother, his features soften.  

Then in a stark contrast to his angry ranting, he opens his mouth and in a high-pitched tone he coos at Nolofinwë.  

"Well, aren't you the most adorable little thing! With your itty-bitty button nose and your teensy-weensy toesies! Yes, you are!"  

Whatever previous grievances there have been are all but forgotten, and as Fëanáro smiles wide, eyes shining with glee at having a baby in his hands, Nolo joins in with his own tinkling peel of giggles that just sets Fëanáro off on another round of ridiculous babytalk.  

Somewhere to the side Nolofinwë thinks he remembers hearing Findis wryly commenting, "See, Atya, it still works. Just like when I was little." However, Nolo is too enamoured with being under the overwhelmingly bright focal point of his elder brother's positive regard as Fëanáro continues to coo and fuss over him.  

Nolofinwë has been chasing that high ever since. 

Read the rest on Ao3

[urauntiefaye]

what do you think &team’s ideal types are? i’m feeling extra delusional today 🤪

&Team Ideal Types🌸

WC: 834

TW: None? I mean I talk about their possible ideal types but that should be all, let me know if I do miss anything

A/N: This is completely my opinion in no ways am I saying this is how it actually is.

Kei-

I feel like Kei might like someone who's just as energetic as him. Along with someone who has that edgy feminine mature vibe to them ya know?. He wants to be able to go out and explore with his significant other. Also wants someone who is confident in themselves and is fairly independent. Like that strong girl boss vibe. Someone who can take care of themselves but won't mind if they let him help them in the occasion.

Fuma-

I think and this could just be me being biased, but I think Fuma might like someone who's also into exercising and taking care of their physical health like him. It's not a must for him but I think he would like gym date nights ngl. But like I said it's not a must for him, I feel like he mostly cares about if you two can get along. So someone who's into similar things like him, like Pokemon. He also gives vibes off wanting someone who has that mature look but less edgy.

Nicholas-

Someone who has a good fashion sense. Nicholas really likes fashion and I really think he'd prefer if his partner did too. I think aesthetic wise he might be into someone with more of an edge look. Like a laid back edgy obviously put effort in if that makes any sense. He wants someone who's chill too, but is able to be serious when the time calls for it. He honestly just wants someone he can vibe with despite what kind of aesthetic they have tbh.

Euijoo-

hmm, someone who has that cute soft vibe? Like he doesn't really mind what his partner looks like but I feel like he's more drawn to someone who's more earthy. Like a down to earth chill person. Best bet this man loves a bookworm. Wants someone who is willing to take care of him when he's down. I also feel like he'd like someone who is more outgoing and sociable. He doesn't mind if they aren't but having someone be more extroverted in a way helps?.

Yuma-

Someone he can tease playfully. He doesn't want to straight out bully them, but I feel like Yuma likes someone who is easy to tease and will tease back. He lives for that playful banter. He also wants someone he can fully trust and feel comfortable with. He wants to be able to lay down with them and just talk. Either it be about silly things or you two are trauma dumping. Oh, also he wants someone who doesn't judge too much. Looks base I don't really see him caring too much.

Jo-

Hmm, someone who is okay with him being quiet. I know that's probably pretty obvious, but I know a lot of quiet people and they hate when people are always like “speak louder” or “I can't hear you”. So someone who doesn't do all that. Looks wise I feel like Jo would like someone more feminine. I also think he would want someone who is artistic like him so y'all could go on like pottery dates or go take an art class together.

Harua-

This one was a little hard for me honestly. It's not that I don't see him being interested in anyone, it's more so I just don't know what this dude would be into. Or if he even really has a type? I think he does value chill time so someone who also values that. He wants to be able to just hangout and do nothing. But he also values honesty so anyone who's honest. I think he just goes with whatever he's feeling tbh. So if he's into you he's into you, there's no set type with him unlike the others.

Taki-

Someone who is just as silly as him, I feel like he's drawn to people who have that bright accepting energy to them. But he also likes people who are slightly more mature than him. In a sense he wants to be taken care of, so someone who naturally takes on the nurturing role suits him best. He'll take care of them too, but he just screams wanting someone to take care of him. Like he just feels so loved when people essentially baby him. I think he might also like an older significant other.

Maki-

Someone who is super laid back and has a similar humor to him. Aesthetic wise I think he'd like someone who usually dresses like a bum in sweats and a hoodie but when special occasion comes around they bring out their best clothes and look like a fucking God/Goddess. I feel like Maki would really like a Bruh person ya know? He definitely also wants someone who's okay with getting out of their comfort zone a little. Obviously not if it pushes a boundary but a little bit is nice. Also why do I low-key see Maki getting with someone who's into the whole Tarot cards and crystals thing?

[fictionalcreator]

Ohhh my god, your mind!!! This is EVERYTHING!!

Him remembering getting kidnapped?? Going along with Brother "willingly"??? oughhhh

The image of KRS speedrunning a Tower because "I have someone who needs me outside" aughhhh

He's probably one of the first to clear a Tower and certainly the first to clear a high-ranking Tower in under 6 months. He likely can't do it solo from the start but he learns quickly. He's too much of a bleeding heart to abandon the people he meets along the way (he keeps coming up with reasons they may be useful later) but he doesn't let himself get bogged down by them, either. He needs to get out of the damn Tower.

If you're gonna be part Kim Rok Soo's team, you need to get used to moving with brutal efficiency. He won't be angry you if you can't keep up or anything, he'll just start to consider you staying behind safer than going with him. (He'll need to time to develop the leadership skills that let him move forward while pulling others up with him)

Of course, the fact that he's not distracted by the prizes awarded by the Tower (hella suspicious, he thinks) and the glory to be found in clearing the Tower (useless, ew, he wants to be slacker) make others stare at him in awe. He doesn't even want to claim the credit for the first clearing of an A-rank Tower. How could such a selfless person exist? (of course, he keeps the riches that come from it. Those can actually be useful)

OOH maybe beating the Tower was, like, a boss fight, and at the end of it our resident Mr. Can't-Go-A-Full-Arc-Without-Fainting faints and it's while he's asleep that he gets out of the Tower and reunites with Cale. He explains the situation to Cale while he's still out, but it's when Cale wakes in KRS's body and actually sees the state of the world for himself that he has his awakening.

So, from everyone else's perspective, KRS beat the Tower, passed out, and woke up a changed man. Cue rumors that clearing a high-ranking Tower gives you new powers but also a glimpse into some forbidden knowledge or something. And whatever he saw was bad enough that he refused to ever enter another Tower.

'Cause. Like. The Towers may be tough, but they are, in a way, designed to be cleared. Unlike the hellscape of S-rank monsters getting preyed upon by even more terrifying monstrosities that the outside world has become.

Ohhh what if the 8 Unranked monsters showed up almost all at once? The Towers are the only safety from those things. Or, maybe even the Towers can't protect people from them? They show up later on, once people have gotten somewhat comfortable around the Towers, and in the end it's only Crazy Bastards (tm) like Cale/KRS who rejected the Towers' blessings can take them down?

Also can you imagine? KRS has never been particularly good at taking care of himself, but he knows that he needs to eat to function, and the Towers are surprisingly rich in food and plants/monsters/monster plants that can be turned into food, so even though he pushes himself a lot, his body is sturdy and agile with high stamina. (It has to be, if he's going to be working at maximum efficiency) Cale would have a field day. He's never, ever, felt so light on his feet.

He'd develop a habit of sitting on/walking along ledges and giving the people around him mini-heart attacks while doing so.

And lucky you mentioned what KRS is getting up to in Cale's body 'cause you BET that's what I was thinking about all last night!!

At first I think he'd just be a bit confused and be like, damn he wasn't kidding this is lot of hair, before kicking into analytical mode. Then he's just like, shit. I gotta get outta here.

He knows a lot about Cale, but the one thing he never saw Cale do was act nice like he said he does for Brother. He's confident in his acting, but. It's Brother. If his Cale impression isn't 110% right Brother is going to notice that something is off and then it's goodbye forever to any chance of escape.

(That, and, he may be just a little more curious about Cale's world than he would ever possibly admit)

The question is, does he know that Cale remembers being kidnapped? Maybe Cale only talked about it in vague terms. Roksu wouldn't want to put Cale's family in danger, but also. He can't stay here.

Cue attempted escape and nearly falling to his death before being caught by our dashing rogue from a distant land, Choi Han.

I think the Henituse family would be the royal family in this AU, if we're sticking to the Tangled setup. Maybe the kingdom is currently under the rule of the corrupt vizier, who has orchestrated a (mostly) bloodless coup and is working with the White Star.

I think it would be fun if Alberu was, like, a weretiger or something hehe

Maybe he's the Maximus the horse equivalent? Like, sure, he doesn't like the current situation, but he can't do much about it at the moment, chained in his tiger form, and Choi Han did steal something pretty valuable, so he might as well play along and give chase when ordered to. At least for now. And at the end Cale pulls a Caligula and appoints a tiger to court. Luckily for everyone involved, the tiger makes for a very effective politician. (Alberu won't let being a large magic animal stop him from effectively ruling a country)

So on krs!Cale's side, the main conflict outside of working towards a way to communicate with the other side would be to take back the kingdom from the vizier (perhaps Adin or another minor villain). They'd have to investigate Cale's backstory, probably. The question is what would spur them to do that? Maybe Choi Han is already involved in something?

White Star would probably still have some larger, more diabolical scheme up his sleeve aside from just pursuing immortality (possibly involving a dragon?), one that might rope in Cale!KRS's reality as well

I also wonder what KRS would think of the weight on Cale's body. If Cale's never been more light on his feet, Roksu has never been more weighed down. Would he appreciate the weight? Or would be find it troublesome? He'd learn to use it to his advantage, like he does with most things, but I wonder how tempted he would be to chop all that extra hair off. Probably one of the reasons he restrains himself is that he doesn't want to do something so drastic to Cale's body that Cale hasn't approved of. (I don't think he's bothered to request a haircut since the story started in canon, too)

The "you can't cut the hair or it loses it's healing powers" also has to be true. And krs!Cale can surely come up with 3 dozen ways that would be useful enough to justify not cutting it (for now).

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[itspileofgoodthings]

i love my counselor because she refuses to pry. don’t even know if she knows that’s an option, I have so rarely met a person who stays so thoroughly in her lane.

[kil9]

everyone agrees that the patriarchy teaches men to hide their emotions, and that this is a bad thing, so why is it that when men actually show an emotion everyone jumps to call him an abuser or manipulator or whatever :\