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#I’m genuinely horrified by how I managed to pull this off.
autisticlancemcclain · 5 months
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Keith thinks he might actually sink into his bed, that’s how goddamn tired he is.
It’s just been — such a long day. Painfully long. Keith thought dragging his brother out of Black’s astral plane would make things less stressful, but nooooo. Of course not. That would be too easy. Of course Shiro decides he doesn’t want the Black Paladin title back, and that, actually, he’d like to retire. Of course Keith can in no way find it within himself to force his brother, who only ever wanted to explore, back into the crushing expectations of the leader of the universe’s strongest weapon.
So. It’s just — a lot.
There weren’t even any missions today. Honestly, Keith prefers mission days — they’re a one-and-done kind of deal. You fly into battle, you think you’re gonna die, you panic about your friends dying, usually no one dies, you either complete the mission or you don’t, you go home. Of course there’s the soul crushing terror and overuse of energy that comes at the price of actual genuine years off his life, but that’s so clearly a Future Keith problem. Once Keith parks Black into the hangar he can Stop Thinking About it, except of course for the horrifying and endless nightmares.
But all this planning shit is horrendous.
First of all, Keith is an action guy. An investigation guy too, sometimes, if there is conspiracy involved (and/or some fuckass has challenged him in any way no matter how minuscule), but what he is not is a tactician guy. A planning guy. That kind of shit is for people who have crippling anxiety and are plagued with constant thoughts about how everything can and will go wrong. That’s why it’s a job for Lance. And Allura. And Hunk. And Shiro.
But not Keith. Keith prefers to walk blindly into dangerous situations and deal with whatever is thrown at him after. Black Paladin Keith, however, motherfucker that he is, has to sit down in meetings for a thousand hours and listen to people argue and try not to wish death and curses upon a myriad of irritating Coalition leaders and allies.
Keith needs a goddamn nap.
Not even bothering to take off his boots, and ignoring the Lance-shaped voice in his head squawking about how disgusting that is, Keith stuffs his face into his pillow, reaching blindly for a blanket and yanking it up to his ears. He is going to Sleep, goddamnit. He is going to keep his comm where it is, stuffed under his mattress, and pass the hell out, to be woken only by some terrible and glorious act of God herself. The universe and all its associates can take an hour to kindly piss the hell off and leave Keith alone.
A knock sounds on his door.
Keith screams. Loudly.
“Keith?” calls a voice, muffled through the doorway, and of course it is the one person in the entire world who Keith has never and will never be able to say no to.
“Hnnnnnngh,” Keith responds. He actually tears up, a little.
The door slides open. Hunk pokes his head in, smile sweet and guilty and hopeful.
“I’m going to swallow engine oil,” Keith anguishes.
“Maybe don’t,” Hunk suggests lightly.
Keith groans again, shoving his head back into the pillow. Hunk patiently waits for Keith to get his shit together enough to lift his head again. Probably because he knows he’s more effective if he can manipulate Keith via facial expressions. Ugh. Keith should ask if he can return his friends. Get store credit, maybe. It’s not worth it.
Hunk smiles sunnily when Keith manages to pull away from his pillow, proving his point. Keith scowls extra hard at him.
“I am busy, Hunk.”
“I need parts,” he pleads, hands pressed together and under his chin. “Pretty pretty please.”
“You have a lion that you can pilot yourself!”
“I need the parts for the lion. Duh.”
Keith groans again. He should say no. He probably can say no. If it was urgent, Coran would be flying the castle for the parts. Hunk is coming to Keith because he knows damn well that Keith is a sucker with a saviour complex. Keith is not going to give in this time.
…Except he is so. Because he is a sucker with a fucking saviour complex.
Fuck.
“You’re bumped down to third favourite,” Keith grouches, rolling off the bed and allowing himself three seconds to sprawl on the floor.
“Yeah, right,” Hunk snorts.
Keith growls. Hunk, wisely, chooses against anymore teasing or commentary, deciding instead to quickly back away and head back down to his workshop.
“Okay thanks Keith bye! Love you bunches!”
Keith rolls his eyes, fighting off the smile that traitorously wants to fight it’s way across his lips, and reaches for his comm to get the details of Hunk’s errand.
“I am going to fucking bite him,” he says, carefully controlled, as he reads the message.
MISSION SHOULD YOU ACCEPT: get parts for hunk because you love him so
OBJECTIVE: obtain 174g of Noxalian black ore (pure as possible)
PEOPLE NECESSARY: two so you should take lance probably ;)
LOCATION: Noxalia-1242
DANGER LEVEL: like -2 but you’re so whipped for lance that it probably brings it up to like a 12 lol. loser
He’s red in the ears and it’s goddamn annoying, is what it is, because these are official mission documents, Hunk, which means they are technically public Coalition information once the mission has been completed. Public.
Hunk is the worst out of all of them for that. He actually had the highest record of diplomatic incidents caused, because he is actually physically incapable of keeping his comments to himself and this can, as one might anticipate, offend a large number of people.
But since he is a good fucking friend (the best, maybe) especially because his friends are class four menaces who do not deserve it in the slightest, Keith drags himself away from his bedroom and towards the materials room, where he knows Lance is.
He makes his frustration known.
Despite the fact that he was stomping like a petulant child and Lance has ears akin to the sonar receptors of a Navy submarine, Lance doesn’t react when he comes into the room, hunched as he is over a project of his.
Keith stops short. He grins wickedly, mood suddenly shifted.
Oh ho.
Oh ho ho.
Quieter, now, although he knows it doesn’t matter, Keith creeps towards the Red Paladin. He makes sure his footfalls are soundless and soft, just like he was taught by the Blades, and his body is directly behind Lance, in the blind spot of his peripheral vision. He focuses on the chair Lance is sitting on rather than his actual person so as to not envoy the feeling of being stared at. And quietly, quietly, he sneaks up behind him.
“RAH!” he shouts, seizing Lance’s shoulders and shaking them. Lance shrieks at the top of his lungs, jumping twelve cubic meters into the air, flailing wildly and sending his sketchbook flying at Keith’s face. Lance’s aim, as it always is, rings true, and the spine of the heavy book nails Keith directly on the bridge of his nose.
“Ow!” Keith yells, pain made worse by the heaving gasps of his laughter.
“¡Chingada madre de cráneo grueso!” Lance screams, hand pressed to his chest, and then, for Keith’s benefit, continues: “You mother fucker! You backwards, tumbleweed-guzzling, sand-eating, cow-fucking son of a minotaur! I’ll fucking get you! I’ll fucking — crush you to death! Come closer, Kogane, I swear to God I’ll wreck your shit —”
Breathless, weak, and wheezing, there’s nothing Keith can do to avoid Lance’s menacing advancing. He can’t even summon the strength to lift his arms to defend himself from Lance’s smacking. He just sits there, taking it, laughing harder every time he remembers just how fucking high Lance had jumped.
“You fucking — stop fucking laughing! Asshole!”
Lance’s expression is only growing more murderous. His mouth is pulled back in a snarl and he sure are shit isn’t pulling his punches. The only thing assuring Keith that he’s not genuinely about to die, curled on the floor, completely devoid of dignity, is the ever-present warmth in Lance’s brown eyes, even as they’re narrowed in fury.
“I — I’m sorry,” Keith wheezes, loosely wrapping his hands around Lance’s ankle as he kicks him. “Please. Oh my God. Stop. I cant breathe.”
“I hope you suffocate!” Lance shrieks.
“Lance, please,” Keith begs. With more strength than he knew he had, Keith heaves a giant, calming breath, shoving the image of Lance’s face as he’d practically flipped off the chair far into the recesses of his mind. Fuck. “I’m sorry. You were so focused. I couldn’t resist.”
Lance huffs. He kicks Keith one last time for prosperity before plopping on the floor next to him, scowl still affixed to his face, but lips twitching with a clear attempt to keep it there.
“I’m allowing your amusement because I laughed today when Senator Grmsx called you a toad. But watch your back.”
“Noted,” Keith says with amusement. He sighs, breath shuddering with the last of his laughter, and stretches out, sliding his feet under Lance’s thighs and resting the back of his skull on the floor. He stares at the ceiling until his vision gets unfocused and blurry, making the glowing blue streaks warp and swirl. He smiles slightly when he feels Lance’s arm hook around his bent knees.
“I got conned,” he laments, flipping his arms behind his head.
Lance hums. “Hunk?”
“Yep.”
“Capitalised on your intense need to do things for your friends to send you on errands?”
“Mhm.”
“Sucks to suck.”
Keith tucks his folded hands under his head and looks up at Lance, smiling in a mirror to Hunk, earlier, sweet and guilty and hopeful. “Well…”
Lance pulls away, waving his hands. “Nuh-uh. No way. You’re not dragging me into your shit, Superman. You want to help everyone around you like the tryhard golden retriever you are, that’s a you problem. I’m a bitch on purpose so I can be errand-free.”
“Please?” Keith tries, batting his eyelashes. The thirteen year old version of himself in his head is dying of embarrassment. (Good. He can suffer for a bit. He used to insist on sleeping on the floor because sleeping on a bed was ‘too mainstream’.)
Lance glares at him. Keith can actually physically see his resolve breaking. He’s very smug about it.
“Ugh,” Lance says.
“Thank you,” Keith says, smirking.
“Ugh,” Lance says again, much more pointed. “Where are we even going?”
Keith climbs to his feet, offering a hand to pull Lance up, too. He stretches and shifts his shoulders, leading them both out of the material room and down to the hangars.
“Noxalia-1242. Hunk needs some kind of ore.”
Lance gasps, dropping Keith’s hand. It is then that Keith realises that they were holding hands, and chokes on his own spit.
“Noxalia-1242? You sure?”
“Yes,” Keith rasps, still dying. Lance doesn’t notice, beaming so wide his eyes are nearly forced shut. He lets out this shout of excitement and wiggles, a little, like he can’t contain himself, and it’s so fucking cute that Keith somehow chokes again, which he didn’t think was possible. There’s a genuine concern that he may pass away.
“You should’ve led with that! Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”
He sprints the rest of the way to Black’s hangar, dragging Keith along. Keith tries desperately to get ahold of himself. It works about 27%, which is way more than he was expecting.
Lance is practically bouncing in glee the entire trip, scrambling out of his seatbelt and twirling around the cabin the second they breach the castle’s orbit. He’s actually humming to himself. Keith’s grinning so wide it hurts, and he doesn’t even know why they’re excited. Lance is just — infectious, as he always is; bright and all-encompassing and sparkling.
It’s a struggle and a half to land, and not just because Lance is being distracting. (Or, well, that Keith is distracted by him. It’s not really Lance’s fault. Keith was once distracted by Lance yawning, for reasons he’s too embarrassed to admit even to himself.) The surface of the planet is slate grey and thick with swirling, furious clouds, and it’s a testament to Black’s power that they manage to stay mostly steady, because Keith is a good pilot but he well and truly can’t see shit. The landing is rough.
“C’mon, c’mon!” Lance urges, out of his seatbelt faster than Keith can blink and rushing him to get out of his. “Let’s go!”
“I’m coming, Jesus,” Keith mumbles, finally releasing that damn buckle. He has to sprint to keep up with Lance, following him to the slowly opening hatch.
When they get to the open door, Keith is assaulted with a gust of frigid air and a spray of water. He curses, ducking to the side, hiking his collar over his head so he doesn’t get too soaked. He wishes he’d known to bring his armour.
“Fuck, it’s — pouring!”
Lance laughs, delighted, and before Keith can even think to stop him he sprints down the ramp, into the rain, soaked to the bone immediately.
“Lance! Lance — come back here! What are you doing?!”
But Lance only laughs again, and Keith can’t hear it because of a roar of thunder but he can see it in the giant grin on Lance’s face, open-mouthed, and the way he squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back and opens his arms to the skies like he’s worried the rain isn’t soaking enough of him.
“You’re going to get pneumonia, you anaemic dumbass!” Keith shouts.
“Come join me!” Lance shouts back.
The worst part is that Keith doesn’t even think.
He stumbles down the ramp without even a second of hesitation, before he’d even realized he’d moved, cursing the whole time, shocked with the sudden onslaught of cold and windy and wet. There’s something about the way Lance said it, not come out here not it’s just rain, dorkus not come get wet!, but come join me. Like it’s not about the rain but about the rain with Lance.
The very iron in Keith’s blood is pulled to him like the world’s strongest magnet.
“If I wanted to get soaked for no reason I’d jump in the pool fully clothed,” Keith grumbles, but there’s a breathless quality to his voice that cannot he muffled.
For the first time since he sprinted out of Black like a madman, Lance tears his face away from the heavens, looking at Keith with eyes that seem impossibly dark with from the reflection of the clouds, almost black as the storm.
“You hate the rain?”
“Yes!” Keith says emphatically, but he hears his own voice like a distant echo, far away. Lance’s laughter is bright and feels louder than the thunder, like clinking gold bangles. Keith’s heart drops to his stomach and his eyes go wider than planets.
Lance turns, slowly, hands still spread wide, face easy and open and peaceful in a way Keith has never seen on him, turned back up the the pelting rain, every droplet doing something to him that makes him glow.
“How could anyone hate the rain?”
Suddenly, wholly, breathlessly, Keith doesn’t. His collar slides from his slackened fingers and flops back over his neck, soaked through. His hair plasters to his forehead and it’s wet and cold and water drips directly into his eyes but suddenly he is warmed from the very centre of himself, ricocheting outwards.
“It’s breathtaking,” Keith finally admits, and he is, this son of the skies, this boy of the rain. He is the most breathtaking thing Keith has ever seen in his life.
He swallows, tilts his head up to the sky, and smiles.
———
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petedavidsonscock · 10 months
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Chowder and Dex have been studying in Chowder’s room for a few hours when Nursey slams open the door, walks in, and collapses onto the bed. He mutters something, but Chowder can’t make it out because Nursey’s face is fully buried in the pillow.
“What?” he asks.
“I said,” Nursey says, turning his head to the side, “I’m melancholic as fuck right now, bros.”
Dex snorts, not looking up from his code.
“How come?” Chowder asks anyway.
“Because the year’s ending .” Nursey pushes himself up just enough that he can flop over onto his back. “Like, sophomore year. We’re already halfway through college. Like, we just got here.”
“Yeah,” Chowder jokes, “our Taddy Tour was last week, right?”
“Exactly! Time moves despite and against our own desires. It’s mad fucked up.”
Nursey closes his eyes, apparently overcome.
When he doesn’t continue for a few moments, Chowder opens his mouth to prompt him, but Dex elbows him and mutters, “Don’t encourage him.”
Chowder frowns. He says in a low voice, “I’m not encouraging him, I’m talking to him.”
“Same difference,” Dex says flatly.
“What, you don’t think I should talk to him?”
Dex makes a face like, Yeah, kinda . Chowder makes a face back like, Explain yourself then .
“Like, he’s just sad and wants attention right now.”
“So what?” Chowder asks, genuinely confused. “We’re his friends, that’s part of the deal.”
“Well, it’s like—you can’t—” Dex stops, looking frustrated. “It’s like, you have to distract him. Or else he’ll keep working himself up into a fucking, like, pit of ennui.”
Nursey jerks upright. “Ennui? Did you just say ennui?”
He grins at Dex, who glares back at him and says, “I know the word ennui.”
Dex and Nursey have a side-pot Sin Bin, for when Dex uses a particularly English-major word or phrase, which, to his own frustration, he’s doing increasingly often.
“Babe,” Nursey is saying, “you did not know what ennui meant before me.”
“Yeah, I did. How the fuck would you know?”
“ Ennui . Come on. Admit that’s me. That’s a dollar.”
“I know words,” Dex argues, while Chowder plucks the computer off Dex’s lap and shuts it. “Just because I’m not majoring in sucking T.S. Eliot’s dick doesn’t mean I don’t know the word ennui.”
Nursey brightens even more. “ And bringing up a modernist poet. Two dollars.”
“No, fuck you.”
Nursey cocks his head, eyes wide and exaggeratedly interested, until Dex sags.
“Fine, I’ll give you Eliot. But,” he adds quickly, “I did know the word ennui. Otherwise I couldn’t have done so well on the SAT.”
Nursey groans, long and loud. “No one’s asking you. No one wants to hear about this.”
There are a few moments of silence while Chowder bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I don’t know if I remember,” he manages after a moment. “What did you get, Dex?”
“It’s pretty easy to remember,” Dex says, “in case you ever forget again. You just take Nursey’s score—” He ducks to avoid a flying pillow “—and add ten points. Convenient, huh?”
He smirks at Chowder, who says, “Ohh, cool, thanks, Dex,” and then Nursey starts hitting Dex with Chowder’s favorite stuffed shark while Dex scrambles to protect his face. As he watches Nursey get in a few solid hits, mussing up Dex’s hair, Chowder feels really glad he moved the laptop.
“Wait, guys,” Chowder says, as Dex gives up trying to fend Nursey off and attempts to grab the toy shark instead. Nursey pulls it out of the way, and Dex nearly overbalances, but recovers just in time for Nursey to smack him again.
“Fuck you,” he sputters, laughing, and stands for better reach. Nursey scrambles to his knees on the bed so he can maintain some height, and hits Dex before switching the shark to his other hand to hold it out of danger. Chowder watches, horrified, as Dex, in scrabbling for the stuffed animal, falls basically on top of Nursey. They're still presumably fighting over Chowder’s (innocent!) shark, but, with the inevitability of a car crash, there comes a moment when they both stop laughing to look at each other. Dex is propped over Nursey, they're staring into each other’s eyes, it’s really clear what they're both thinking about, and Chowder wants to die. He’s happy that his two best friends don’t hate each other anymore, he is, but this might actually be worse.
(It’s not really worse. He’s really happy for them. But, like, seriously? In his bed?)
“Um, guys?” he tries, but his voice comes out quiet and very high pitched. “Guys!”
They startle apart.
Or, actually, Dex hastily shoves himself off of Nursey and to a sitting position. He scowls, already starting to turn red.
“Uh,” says Nursey, who has better maintained his composure. “Yeah, as I was saying, uh.” He blinks hard, regrouping. “It’ll be weird when everything changes, you know?”
Chowder gives him a few long moments to squirm—which Nursey doesn’t, because he has a great poker face, but Chowder hopes he feels really awkward inside—before picking up the conversation.
“That makes sense,” he acknowledges. “But you have to have change to have improvement, right? I mean, graduating will be scary, but it’ll be nice to live in a place that has, you know, normal, not-falling-apart furniture and actually hot water.”
Dex looks up. “Is the hot water out again? I thought I took care of that last week.”
Oh. “Oh, yeah. It’s still working in other places, just not in my bathroom.” Chowder has been meaning to call maintenance. “But I really feel like this time it’ll fix itself if I wait long enough.”
Dex rolls his eyes and gets up. “I’m gonna get my stuff. C, just tell me next time.”
He leaves, presumably to get his tools from his dorm. When the door closes behind him, Chowder glances at Nursey, who looks—God. Besotted might be the right word. After a moment, Nursey flops backwards onto the bed.
“Ugh.”
Chowder glances down at his computer and deletes a stray line break.
“You know,” he says softly, “we’re still gonna have this. After, I mean.”
“Have what?” Nursey asks without opening his eyes. “Dex being pissy all the time?”
“Us. The Frogs.”
Nursey sighs. “I guess.”
“No, really.” Chowder slides out of his chair to sit cross-legged on the floor, ticking points off on his fingers, getting more certain as he speaks. “Rans and Holster are gonna be here for like every Kegster. Bitty’s totally gonna move in with Jack when he graduates, and that’s only forty minutes away. And we have a whole year before that of him being captain.” He can’t help but grin. “He’s gonna be ‘swawesome . And, like, when it’s our turn, we’re not gonna stop being friends just ‘cause we don’t have to skate suicides at 5am together anymore.”
Nursey is still enough that Chowder can tell he’s listening intently now.
“It’ll be different,” Chowder adds. “But we’ll still be us.” He hesitates, then takes the plunge. “And you and Dex…”
“What?”
“You’re both obviously in it for the long run.”
“Oh,” Nursey says. He totally fails to sound normal. “You think?”
Chowder snorts. “Uh, yeah. The other day he asked me whether it would be weird to invite you to his family’s Thanksgiving.”
Nursey props himself up on an elbow to stare at Chowder. “Wait, like, next year Thanksgiving? It’s April.”
The expression on his face is so stunned that Chowder finally lets out the laugh that’s been building inside him for most of this conversation. “Yep,” he says finally.
“Oh,” Nursey says. There’s a smile growing on his face, so sincere that Chowder almost feels like he’s intruding. “That’s chill.”
“Yeah,” Chowder says, then considers. “I think it’s maybe all gonna be okay, actually.”
Nursey turns that smile onto him. “You know I love you, right, man?”
Chowder picks himself up off the floor: this moment definitely calls for a hug. “‘Course I know that,” he tells him. “I love you too.”
~~~
thanks for reading! here’s the ao3 link for if u want to leave a kudos/comment.
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mp3chan · 1 year
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plz reblog/follow if u enjoy!
pairing: jeongin x afab!reader
tw: biting/marking, unprotected sex (plz wrap it yall), MINORS DNI
wc: 657
-> kinkmas 22’ masterlist!
© copyright mp3chan 2022 (don’t repost, steal, or translate!)
“mine.” jeongin panted, his hips slowly pushing into you as he caged you beneath him with his arms.
you bit your lip to keep from making too much noise, his cock stretching you open the exact way you liked it. the perfect amount of pain without it being uncomfortable.
“yours.” you whispered back to him, arching your back so your chest were practically touching, baring your neck to him.
jeongin didn’t know what came over him, he said possessive sounding things in bed, but now he had an uncontrollable urge to mark you up. show the others your his.
so he did. you whimpered feeling his teeth sink into your flesh, enough to bruise and leave a mark but not enough to actually pierce your skin.
jeongin immediately stilled and pulled away from you, looking absolutely horrified with himself. “s-sorry.” he stuttered out, hoping you weren’t mad or hurt, but mostly he was just embarrassed.
“hey hey it’s ok!” you smiled up at you, leaning up on your elbows to get closer. “i like a little pain. it’s ok…you can bite me.” you told him with a small smile on your lips and reaching up to gently caress his cheek, trying to reassure him.
jeongin was about to ask if you were sure but was silenced when you kissed him deeply. “bite me, innie. you want the others to know i’m yours right?” you smirked, knowing exactly how to wind him up and get him going.
“fuck…y/n.” jeongin groaned, thrusting harshly back into you, watching immediately cover your mouth to keep from waking up the whole dorm. “thank you.” he whispered in your ear before biting down roughly on your shoulder again, being careful not to actually puncture you.
you struggled to keep quiet as jeongin’s thrusts got more erratic and forceful, obvious he was getting close to climaxing as his rhythm faltered.
jeongin moved his head over to the other side of your neck to mark it up as well, his biting trailing down to your clavicle and chest, making sure your sufficiently marked up.
“fuck….close.” jeongin managed to groan out, expecting you to tell him to pull out and finish on your stomach like usual.
you clenched down on his cock and wrapped your arms around him, biting down onto his shoulder gently as your orgasm washed over you as well.
“y/n..” jeongin groaned gripping his bed sheets tightly, hearing them rip as he spilled his load into you.
jeongin panted as he stayed hovering over you, finally catching his breath and then looking at you, gently caressing your cheek.
“you ok?” he asked, his cheeks becoming dusted in a light layer of pink as he felt his usual embarrassment sink in.
you smiled up at jeongin and nodded. “great actually.” pecking his lips quickly as he pulled out and began to clean the both of you up.
~~
“you sure you don’t wanna cover those up?” jeongin asked you the next morning before you went to join him and the other boys for breakfast.
“why would I?” you replied innocently as you tugged your tank top on, glancing in the mirror jeongin had in his room, seeing the bright purple bruises on your neck and chest.
“im never hearing the end of this.” jeongin groaned in embarrassment, trailing behind you as you entered the kitchen.
“hey y/n…..holy shit!” changbin looked absolutely stunned and mildly horrified at the sight of you.
you obviously looked wrecked, despite you taking a shower and brushing your hair. the visibly bruising, hickeys and bite marks told another story.
“are you ok???” chan asked you looking genuinely concerned.
“did you try to fucking eat them???” seungmin asked jeongin, earning a laugh out of you and most of the boys.
you tossed a hash brown bite in your mouth from felix’s plate. “you should see what jeongin is hiding under his shirt.” you winked at the boys, taking off running when you heard jeongin curse at you and bolt to cover your mouth.
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writereleaserepeat · 7 months
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Fan Mail
Fan work based on the Kane & Jim series by @whumpsday . I’m always so inspired by K&J, both in how to make a compelling story and how to be a better author. Please go read the original K&J before reading this - I promise you the investment of time is worth it. Some creative liberties and departures from canon have been taken to make this story work.
Summary: Jim gets a special delivery - fan mail. Kane is horrified when he finds out what this means, and Liz manages to make it worse.
WC: ~5500
CW: recovery from abuse and torture, PTSD symptoms, hate comments
Kane heard the familiar hum of the mail truck long before it reached the end of Jim’s driveway. The poor excuse for a vehicle sputtered along with its usual concerning wheeze. After hearing it for the first time, Kane had been waiting for the day when it inevitably gave out for good.  In the meantime, however, it would continue to deposit a meager collection of mass-mailed pamphlets in Jim’s mailbox once every weekday.
“Is that the mail?” Jim called from the kitchen, having apparently heard the telltale rattling on his own.
“Yes,” Kane answered simply, unsurprised that even a human was able to hear the metallic beast’s pathetic keening. After a moment he heard the vehicle’s direction of travel change, and Kane’s red eyes widened as his heart accelerated in his chest.
“It’s… it’s coming up the driveway.” His words came out strangled by fear, terror at the sudden and unexpected.
Of the days Kane had spent tucked away inside, hiding from the daylight that blazed beyond dark curtains, he’d come to embrace the comfort routine. He heard when the birds first began their song before dawn, and he listened to the wind shift through the nearby trees as mid-morning became afternoon. He found melodies in Jim’s footsteps upstairs, tracing the man’s path throughout the home each morning before he fetched Kane from the basement. Crickets began their crescendo as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, signaling that it would soon be time for Kane to return to the basement once more.
But the mail truck was supposed to pause for a moment before carrying on down the road. It wasn’t supposed to travel across Jim’s driveway and sputter ever-closer, carrying another human and goodness knows what else in its belly.
“Oh, Liz and Laken must have sent me a package,” Jim said with nonchalance. “Blaise drops any packages off on the porch, instead of the mailbox.”
The fact that Jim sounded unfazed did little to settle Kane’s growing panic.
“A package? But- but don’t they visit often? Why would they mail something when they can just bring it over?” The questions were all hiding Kane’s true concern: what’s the catch? How is this going to hurt me? Are the hunters finally coming back for me?
There was the brief sound of Jim drying his hands on the kitchen towel, and then he reemerged in the living room with a half-smile on his face. This one seemed genuine, kind.
“I think they want me to have a pleasant surprise now and then. I know money is tight for them, but they always find new ways to try and lift my spirits. Besides, if I refuse, Liz just starts counting how many birthdays and Christmases I missed.”
“Oh.” Kane’s anxiety coiled inside him like a spring. It was a painful reminder of those years he’d stolen from Jim, the years that Liz would never be able to return with a thousand well-meaning gifts. It was a reminder that Kane was a monster, and always would be.
The vampire soon realized that Jim had picked up on his nerves. He’d drawn the jacket tight around himself, pulled the hood in close to his cheeks, formed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It was like Kane was a child, trying to hide from the monsters in his closet.
Jim ran a hand through his curls and gestured halfheartedly towards the basement door.
“Why don’t you go downstairs for a few minutes? I’ll have to open the front door to get the package, and I don’t want you to worry about the sun.”
That was all the convincing that Kane needed. He willingly went down the stairs, past the silver door, and down into the dark recesses of his basement – no, the basement. He even let out a breath of relief as he heard the lock secured.
Moments later the rattling of the mail truck ceased to an idle hum. Kane could then hear Jim chatting with a stranger, their smiles evident in their tones.
“Hey, Blaise, how are you?”
“Doin’ just fine, Jim. I have a package here for you, not too heavy, but figured I’d spare you the walk down the driveway.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it, man. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Oh, I’m okay, the missus packed me some water for the road this morning.”
“Alright, if you say so. You take care now.”
“Likewise. Enjoy your afternoon, the weather out here is beautiful.”
Both of their voices were warm, friendly, alight with the jovial tone of passing acquaintances. The front door closed and Jim walked back to the kitchen, dropped his package and letters on the kitchen table, and then the lock on the basement door slid open.
“You can come up now. Blaise is gone, and the door is closed.”
Kane trotted up the stares obediently, relieved that Jim had been telling the truth, but simultaneously burning with shame. He’d made Jim go out of his way for something as simple as getting the mail, all because he couldn’t quell his own anxieties. Kane did nothing but complicate Jim’s life, all he’d done for the last decade was complicate it, and he wasn’t poised to stop any time soon. He felt the full weight of his burdensome existence deep in his stomach.
Although he’d heard the front door close, Kane swept his eyes carefully around the room before letting the basement door shut behind him. True to his senses, and much to his relief, there was no sunlight leaking into the house. Further inspection revealed pamphlets and a large box on the kitchen table, but Jim had seemingly ignored them in favor of the meal he had working on the stove.
The question dropped from his lips before Kane could swallow it. As anxious as the unexpected mail drop had made him, he was just as curious what Liz could have sent along through the post.
“Aren’t- aren’t you going to open it?”
“Nope,” Jim said without hesitation, and without apparent annoyance at Kane’s prodding inquiry. “It’s not a gift. Its garbage, and the garbage is where it’s going as soon as I’m done cooking these onions.”
“I can take care of that for you,” Kane offered, desperate to be helpful, especially after the scene he’d nearly caused because of a simple package delivery. Whatever was in that box was definitely a sensitive subject for Jim: Kane could hear it in the human’s rapid heartbeat and he could see it in his tensed muscles.
“It’s fine,” Jim said, his voice wavering a touch. “But… sure. Just dump the contents right into the trash, and put the box in after it, alright? Might have to cut the box down for it to fit.”
“Yes, Jim.”
Eager to assist, and pleased he’d remembered to use Jim’s name under pressure, Kane sprang forward and whisked the box off the table. His talons effortlessly split the tape and he proceeded to shake out the contents into the nearby trash can.
Much to Kane’s surprise, a pile of letters came fluttering out of the box, and they fell in piles onto the waste that was already sitting in the bottom of the trash bag. The panic that had just been quelled re-emerged. Kane drew in a breath and let out a shaking whimper. There was no way Jim had meant to throw out letters, right? They were handwritten, addressed to him by name, sealed with stamps and beautifully scrawling script.
“I- Jim- I don’t think this is- these are letters! They’re addressed to you!” His nervous exclamation was louder than he intended, but Kane wasted no time in digging his arms down into the wastebin, fishing out fistfuls of letters in a hurried attempt to save them.
When he glanced up, Jim had a scornful look on his face, which made Kane shirk back.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why they’re trash. Put ‘em back, stuff ‘em to the bottom of the can, and get the bag ready to go to the curb.”
Kane had to force a swallow, and he quickly dropped the letters back into the bottom of the trash. The rest followed, and he tore the cardboard box into pieces that he piled on top of the letters. Whatever they were, Jim didn’t want to see them, much less acknowledge them.
Before he closed the lid he noted the return address on the box. It fluttered to the bottom of the trash just like the letters, but not before Kane had taken in the sender’s identity.
Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.
That created more questions than it answered. However, Kane knew he had already pushed on Jim’s good graces with this matter, and the thought of upsetting him further made the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stand up straight. If this was something Jim wanted to keep a secret, Kane would let him have that secret.
Still, the curiosity gnawed at him like hunger.
---
Five days after the incident with the mysterious package, and four days since any remaining evidence had been schlepped outside for trash collection, Liz and Laken came to visit. Kane had been gradually growing accustomed to their visits, including Liz’s caustic stare. It was no less than he deserved.
The two hunters had just come off shift, so it was quite early in the morning when they’d arrived. Kane had heard their arrival upstairs, and he’d listened with earnest pining as the family laughed and joked and made their way through the otherwise quiet house.
Kane had been allowed upstairs after sunrise. The ankle restraints were familiar by now, even comfortable, and he was able to sit on Jim’s couch in silence as Laken retold stories of the last week in town. He was sure the interest was apparent on his face, but he sat rapt through Laken’s retelling of the butcher who had finally gained the courage to ask the diner owner on a date. Although the entire affair could have lasted no more than two minutes, Laken had managed to stretch the tale into almost ten minutes, and their impassioned dramatization was the most relaxed Kane had been in days.  
It was pleasant. There was no denying how nice it was, sat like a friend among these three humans, even if they largely ignored Kane’s presence. He was soaking in the laughter, the smiles, no matter the fact none were directed at him. Their blood smelled sweet, but not nearly as sweet as the joy Kane gained from listening to them laugh at something aside from his own pain.
The illusion of perfection was shattered when Jim finally piped up.
“Yeah, you won’t believe what I got in the mail this week. Another box of fan mail from the fuckin’ publishers. I told them months ago that I didn’t want them forwarding that shit anymore.” When he spoke he only sounded mildly irritated, at best, while Kane knew he’d been furious when the box had first arrived.
Kane immediately sat at attention, his calm dissipated, and he leaned forward as the siblings scowled in unison.
It had to be about the box and the letters, of course. There was no other noteworthy mail that Jim had received over the last week. “Them” could only mean one thing: Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.
“Fuckers,” Liz grumbled, and she took a sip of her cold cola, her lips smudging the frost on the side of the glass. “You’d think they’d at least screen it, right? You know, actually look at what they’re sending you, not just stuff it in a box and hope all is well.”
Jim scoffed.
“I don’t want any of it. No praise, no love letters, nothing. They can burn it, for all I care. Just stop sending it to my doorstep.” There was no hiding the sheer disgust that dripped from every word.
This only piqued Kane’s interest further. Why would Birchwood Forest Publishing send Jim love letters? And if they were indeed love letters, why did Jim speak of them with such vehement hatred?
Of the humans in attendance, Laken seemed the least bothered by the cryptic discussion. They stood up and stretched before grabbing the now-empty plate in front of them.
“I’m going to the kitchen to grab a beer and get the dishes started. Anyone else want anything?”
“I’ll be back once I take a leak,” Jim said, standing up alongside Laken.
“Guess that leaves me to babysit,” Liz said, to which the other humans laughed.
Kane’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He knew that Liz’s words were in jest, but dread knotted in his stomach nonetheless. As Jim and Laken left, Kane wrung his hands together. Being left alone with Liz was always scary. Even now, before Jim had left the room, her glare burned holes in his tattered soul.
“So, do you even know what Jim was talking about? The letters?” She asked once both humans were out of earshot. The accusatory tone was yet another clue Kane hadn’t picked up on before – whatever this was about, it was because of him.
When it came to Jim’s endless pain and suffering, what wasn’t Kane’s fault?
“J- Jim got a package the other day,” Kane started. There was a soft waver to his voice, but he pushed on. “It was large box that came with the mail. He told me to throw it away, and I did- well, I started to. I thought he made a mistake, because it was letters, and they were addressed to him. But… he made it very clear that he didn’t make a mistake. He told me to throw them out without even looking at them.”
“Mhm.” Liz leaned back into the chair and crossed her right leg across her lap. “Do you know what those letters were?”
For a moment, Kane was tempted to lie. After all, Jim had told him to throw the letters out, not look at who the box was from. He didn’t want to admit that he had learned more than he’d been allowed to. At the same time, he felt as though Liz could stare through him and all his secrets.
“No. All I know is that the box was sent from Birchwood Forest Publishing, and that it made Jim very upset.” This confession came just as quietly, an admission that he’d snooped where he shouldn’t have.
“You know that Jim published a book, right? A book about what you did to him. A book about how he survived, despite that.” There was no missing the accusatory tone in her voice, that anger she never quite abandoned when speaking to Kane. It was a sound that made him want to sink into the earth and never reemerge.
Yes, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear that I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me please please please…
“Yes,” he squeaked out, and pulled his hands close to his chest, as though that could protect him from a hunter’s stake.
“Well, you see,” Liz continued with another sip of her cola, “the book was a bestseller. Everyone loved the story. A human escaping from vampire territory? It was unheard of, especially after five years in captivity. It sold like wildfire the first year, and the sales haven’t slowed down since. But that level of notoriety, well, it causes problems too.”
Of course it did. Everything Kane touched caused problems for Jim. Even the very story of Jim’s captivity, and his attempt to make some profit from it, caused years of cascading pain.
“I’m sorry.” This time he couldn’t stop the apology slipping from his lips. It burned in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. There would never be enough apologies in the world for what he’d done, and the thought that it continued to this day ached in Kane’s very bones.
“You don’t know the half of it.” That acidic abrasiveness gave Liz’s voice an edge. “The book had only been out for a week when the publishers forwarded the first box of fan mail. That’s what they called it, anyway. These were letters that readers had sent in to the publisher, addressed for Jim, because the publishers are some of the only people in the world with his address. They gathered up the letters, put them in a box, and sent them his way. You should have seen the way he smiled, thinking that maybe he’d inspired hope in some people, or that he’d find someone else who went through the same thing.
“Sure, some of the letters were like that. They told him how brave he was, how they could never imagine being so strong, or that his story gave him hope that their missing relatives would come home safe one day. But there were awful letters too. People who wrote solely to tell him that he should have died in captivity. Vampires who snuck into human territory to send words of vitriol for all humans, not just Jim. There were letters that accused him of being a liar, that he’d made up all of that suffering for the fame. For every kind letter of inspiration, there were at least two more than made him sick. They hurt him all over again.”
Kane’s head spun. He’d known that humans could be cruel – he knew that intimately well after his stint with the hunters – but he had no idea they could be so cruel to one another. And because of his own ignorance, not just trusting Jim when he said to throw the letters out, he’d dredged up all that hurt again.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered, wishing he could hide his face. “I swear, I didn’t- I didn’t know. I never meant for people to hurt him like that, I swear, if I could stop it-”
Liz cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“For once, this isn’t your fault. I mean, it is your fault. But people being dicks for the sake of being dicks? Humans have done that to each other since the beginning of time. Still, it doesn’t mean that Jim can handle it, not anymore.”
That sisterly softness crept into her expression, sadness clouding her eyes. She didn’t look up at Kane, but instead down at the floor, focused intently on the edges of Jim’s rug.
“I won’t ask about the letters again,” Kane assured her. If he’d learned anything from his time in captivity, it had been that making mistakes was unforgivable. Jim had been kind enough to let the letters slide this once, and without comment. If Jim had been upset by Kane’s inquiries about the letters, he’d hidden it well.
“I’m sure you won’t,” Liz said. “If you do, and he gets upset, you’ll have to deal with me.”
It was a threat that was often left unspoken, so Kane didn’t hesitate to acknowledge it.
“Yes, I understand.”
After a moment of thought, Liz tilted her head to the side.
“Have you read his book?”
“N- no, I haven’t. The only books I’ve read are the ones he’s given me.” These were the words that Kane managed to say, but even more ran through his mind.
I don’t think I can read Jim’s book, not by myself. You’d have to tie me down and read it to me so I can’t run away from what I did. It just hurts too much. Haven’t I already paid the price? Do I just have to keep reliving my sins over, and over, and over again? Is this the rest of my life?
“Well, maybe you should one day.” Liz spoke in a noncommittal tone. “I know he has some advanced reader copies still up in his attic.”
Kane was spared having to answer as Jim walked back into the room. He patted water off his hands onto his jeans, and stared at Liz with a smirk.
“What, not helping Laken with the dishes?”
“It’s their turn,” Liz shot back without a moment’s hesitation. “I did them last time!”
The siblings continued their chatter and Kane took the opportunity to retreat into himself, pushing out the questions and the discomforts from his time with Liz. If he sat with them for much longer, he’d be sick.
---
Kane had excused himself to the basement looking rather ill, and Jim hadn’t pushed the issue. The hood on the jacket had come up and Kane had wrapped his arms around himself, which Jim had come to recognize meant Kane was having a bad time. Given that it had only happened after he’d left the vampire with Liz, however, he had his suspicions as to the sudden cause.
“What did you say to Kane?” he asked, giving Liz a pointed look. Her shrug and averted gaze told him that she’d pushed something she shouldn’t have.
“I just told him about the hate mail.”
“Dammit, Liz,” Jim groaned. “You think the guy doesn’t have enough guilt? I tried not to tell him when it came in the mail the other day, and that was on purpose. I can promise you he’s blaming himself for it now, and I’m sure that’s why he left early.”
“I told him it wasn’t his fault,” she said, somewhat defensively.
“Yeah, like that’s going to make a difference in his fucked-up brain! Ask me how I know.”
“He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. Sometimes, those consequences are so far removed from the action that they’re hard to conceive. I just wanted him to see that his actions have long-lasting effects in ways he’d never have expected.”
Jim sighed and brought a hand up to his neck. In his discomfort, even in front of his sister, he was compelled to cover his scar.
“He sees those consequences. He sees them every day, and I don’t think he needs any more punishment than he’s received. You’re not here all day with him. The guilt, and the trauma, they’re eating him alive. Every. Day.”
“If you say so,” Liz said. She wrapped her arms around him, a sensation he’d never grow tired of. “But if you ever need any help keeping him in line, you call me, alright?”
“I know,” he said, and closed his eyes. All he could see was Kane cowering away from him on the first day he’d been home. How was that the same vampire that had tortured him for years? “I know.”
---
“Hey, Kane?” Jim called down the basement stairs, unwilling to enter Kane’s space without permission or good reason. “Are you alright? Liz and Laken are gone, you can come up if you’d like.”
It took a few moments for the vampire to take him up on the offer. There was the telltale shuffle of chains around his ankles, which he hadn’t removed before Kane retreated to the basement. Those familiar red eyes appeared at the base of the stairs and Kane made his way up slowly, cautiously.
“You’re not in trouble,” Jim reassured him, hoping to head off any nervous questions before they emerged. “I’m not upset that you and Liz talked about the letters.”
“Oh. Okay, I’m… Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Jim said as Kane tip-toed into the first floor of the house. “You’re allowed to talk with my sister about things like that. Hell, you’re allowed to talk to me. You know you’re allowed to ask questions, right? If I’m uncomfortable I won’t answer, but you’re still allowed to ask. You’ll never be punished for asking.”
“Yes, Jim.” The answer wasn’t particularly convincing, but Jim wasn’t going to push it. He carried on instead.
“I know I was upset when the mail came, but you were still allowed to ask about it if you had questions. I would have told you why I was uipset. I was mad at the publishers for sending it, not at you for checking about the letters.”
Kane’s red eyes watered with sadness, but tears didn’t fall.
“I’m sorry,” the vampire said, all but blubbering. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel to you. I know it’s- it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not your fault.” Jim tried to stress this, despite the small voice in his mind wanting to scream. Yes, of course it was Kane’s fault, in some distant way. But the Kane in that stupid book, the Kane that the rest of the world got to know, wasn’t the Kane that stood before him today. This Kane could hardly get a word out without sobbing.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you for not getting upset.”
“Not upset at you,” Jim reiterated. “If you have any questions about the book, or the letters, you can ask. I might not be able to answer all of your questions, but I’ll try.”
He watched carefully as Kane looked down at the floor, then back up to Jim, and then back to the floor again.
“I… I had an idea.”
“Oh?” This came as a surprise to Jim. There were some things Kane had taken an initiative with, such as being useful around the house, but he rarely contributed any attempted ingenuity.
Kane fidgeted where he stood before continuing.
“You, uhm, did you like some of the letters? The nice ones?”
It had been a year since Jim had even opened one of the boxes from the publisher, and even longer since he’d read any letters the boxes contained. Even if there were a dozen letters praising his courage and complimenting the storytelling, one hate-filled page was enough to send him spiraling. It got to the point where even seeing the box in the mail spiked his anxiety and brought on nightmares.
It took a letter from a vampire, one who had managed to post the letter into human territory, to make Jim swear off opening them altogether. Those were the letters he remembered, not the kind ones. Those letters were the ones that gave him new nightmares.
“I suppose so,” Jim admitted with a sigh. “It was nice to hear from people who were supportive. I used to wonder if putting that book out into the world was the right thing to do, but enough letters convinced me that it did some good. I’d like to think it helped some people, wherever they might be in their lives. Maybe it still is.”
“Then… maybe I could screen the letters for you?”
This was something that Jim hadn’t foreseen. He stared at Kane with wide eyes, blinking in disbelief.  
“Wait. You mean you’d read through all of the letters?”
“Yes, Jim.” Kane’s voice rose in pitch, likely a combination of nerves and excitement. “I could read all the letters, and only pass on the ones that are kind and supportive. You’d never even see the other ones.”
An ache blossomed in Jim’s heart. This wasn’t just groveling and begging: it was Kane offering himself up as a barricade between Jim and the rest of the world, and he was doing so without any care for his own self-preservation.
Jim didn’t need prompting to remember some of the other letters he received. Letters that were neither expressing hatred towards himself nor admiration. There’d also been the letters from the vampire hunters and various victims, all dripping with hatred for not just all vampires, but Kane specifically. Undoubtedly, there were similar letters in the box that had been discarded just a few nights prior.
No words of affirmation from strangers would be worth putting Kane through that. Not now, not after everything had changed. Kane’s well-being was worth more than any hollow words of praise.
“No, man, it’s all trash. I don’t need that shit.” His smile felt painfully fake, but he put it on for Kane’s sake. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
A pause spanned the air between them as Kane’s distress prickled.
“And, uhm, Jim?”
“Yeah?”
“Liz said I should… she said I should read the book. You never gave it to me, so, uhm, I’m not sure if you wanted me to, but I… I would do it, if that’s what you wanted. It would… it would be hard, I’m not sure I could do it on my own, but I’d try, I’d really try, if you said to.” The tears Kane was holding back were obvious as his voice cracked. He couldn’t even look up at Jim as he spoke.  
Dammit, Liz. Part of Jim wished she was still in his living room so he could ask her what the hell she’d been thinking when she said that.
Instead, he had to draw a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Yes, this was a sensitive subject, but he was ready to navigate it. Jim knew he was healing, because he patted Kane gently on the top of his head instead of screaming. There were things in those pages neither would be able to bear revisiting.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never read the whole thing,” he ended up saying. He was painfully aware of just how much in the book could wind up traumatizing them both if they ever dared to read the words. “I would never, ever ask you to read that. It was something from a different time in my life. A different time in your life. So long as the cheques keep coming in the mail, that’s all I’ll ever care about it.”
“Are you… are you sure?” The incredulity in Kane’s voice never ceased to break Jim’s heart all over again. Even after all this time in Jim’s home, it was like the vampire expected him to become as grotesque as the hunters.
“I’m sure.” Say it until you believe it. “It’s in the past now. For me, and for you.”
“I can handle the pain,” Kane choked out, tears coming in thick now. “I can, I swear. It’s the least I deserve, to try and understand…”
“No. I mean it. You’ve been through enough; no, we’ve both been through enough. The book is a paycheck, that’s it: it’s not a part of any fucked-up penance you think you deserve. I don’t want you to read it.”
“Okay. I understand, Jim.” The pain in Kane’s voice was still heavy, but Jim could bear it now. So long as the vampire was willing to back down, rather than spiral into a panic, they were making progress.
“Alright.” Another smile on Jim’s lips, this one feeling slightly more real. “As long as we’re on the same page – no pun intended.”
For the first time in almost two days Kane let out a sound that resembled a chuckle. He still didn’t meet Jim’s eyes, but that was okay. This is how their life was now. Baby steps, one day at a time.
“How about we get the kitchen properly cleaned up?” Jim offered, trying to brighten his tone. He couldn’t be jovial, not with his heart thundering so fast and the weight of the conversation on his shoulders, but he tried nonetheless. “I know Laken and Liz try to be good guests, but they never put the glasses back in the right spot.”
“Yes! I can do that.” Kane was still wiping tears from his cheeks, but his enthusiasm was impossible to miss. There was no mistaking his relief at being granted a task, one that he’d been praised for before.
Without another word, Kane darted off towards the kitchen on light feet, the jacket relaxed a touch across his shoulders.
Jim followed after him, trying not to think about the advanced readers’ copies of the book that sat in his attic.
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husbandhannie · 1 year
Text
the blue
pairing: woozi x reader
word count: 760
genre: fluff
warnings: none
a/n: i like my scarf, but it was a pain choosing it.
taglist: @leejungchans @junhui-recs @itsveronicaxxx.
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“i’m sorry i’m taking so long”
jihoon looks up at your words, averting his eyes from the orange cap he had been eyeing for a few moments. 
jihoon doesn’t like shopping. neither do you, really – but you’ve been forced to undertake this ordeal because of the state of your winter clothes (and maybe because your mother seemed genuinely horrified at their not-so-great condition). when you told your boyfriend you were planning on going shopping to replenish clothes for the coming winter, you didn’t expect him to offer to come along. you had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to, but that only made him more insistent. i know i don’t have to, he had said, i want to. 
that shut down any efforts on your part to stop him from going on an excursion he might not enjoy. jihoon doesn’t explicitly express his feelings towards you often (he’s not much different from you in that regard), so it always catches you off-guard when he’s direct – a fact you have a suspicion he knows.
that brings you to the present; jihoon waiting patiently in the accessories isle of the rather gigantic clothing store while you try to pick out a scarf, having managed to narrow it down to a beige-patterned one and a dark blue one, both with similar material and prices. you’ve tried each of them about four times now, and even you’re getting impatient with yourself. 
jihoon, on the other hand, has said nothing about your indecisiveness, patiently responding to the list of pros-and-cons you had drawn for each scarf. he’s been almost saintly patient today, only showing any frustration when you tried carrying the shopping basket. i don’t have much to say about sweaters, he had said, pulling the basket from your hands, the least i can do is carry the clothes.
“don’t worry about it”, he responds, giving you a gentle smile, “i know you think about these things, it’s okay. i don’t mind”. 
oh, how you wish you could kiss this man. right here, right now.
“i do like to think about it, but”, you pause, picking up the beige scarf, “i’m tired, and i can’t think anymore. i’ll just take this, it goes with everything i have”.
“are you sure?”, he frowns, holding out the basket so you can drop the scarf in, “you like the other color better”.
“i do”, you nudge him along to the direction of billing counters, “but this one is more versatile. and i’m hungry”, you smile at his chuckle, “so this will do”.
[...]
“only i would buy a scarf and forget to wear it the very next day”, you snort, snuggling into your jacket in the hopes that it covers your neck. it doesn’t.
after coming home from the shopping trip, you had discarded the untouched bag in a corner of the room and started working on your assignment, only stopping to order dinner. you had forgotten about the new clothes until a few minutes ago, when you met jihoon outside his studio for a walk in the slightly chilly november night. the slight pain in your ears reminded you that you had also forgotten to buy a cap on the trip. 
“yeah, about that”, jihoon pauses in his step, and you turn around to see him rummage through his bag, “here”.
he pulls out a blue fabric, shaking it open from its folded state. it’s the scarf from yesterday, you realize, the one you didn’t end up buying. jihoon steps forward and places it gently on your shoulder, moving it so that it won’t fall when he lets go. your hands instinctively clutch the fabric when a gust of wind blows, and you tilt your head into its warmth.
“you’re supposed to wear it, you know”, he says, unzipped bag still in his hand, “you’ll get sick”.
“when did you get this?”, you ask, already tying it around your neck.
“went back for it this morning”, he answers casually, and you wonder if the red on his ears is due to the cold, “you really liked it, so i thought – “
he pauses, and your heart almost beats out of your chest – the chest safe and warm under the scarf.
“thank you”, you murmur shyly, before pulling him in for a kiss, only pulling away when the wind on your ear makes you shiver. 
“wait, i almost forgot”, he steps back and his fingers dive into the bag again, this time pulling out an orange cap, “i thought this might go well with the blue”.
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justsome-di · 8 months
Text
Nobody Ends Up Dead In a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 24
Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years by the time his co-workers set him up on a blind date.
The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.
While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.
After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.
You can also read this on AO3. If you don’t want to wait for new chapters, the complete story is on Patreon for only $4 with bonus stories! If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!
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Damián was beautiful.
Alex wanted to watch him sleep forever on the pillow next to him. Sun came in through a sliver where the curtains on his window parted and laid right on top of him. It stretched over one eye and into his hair, catching all of the subtle highlights that Alex had never noticed before. There were strands here and there of lighter brown, almost red in the sun.
One curl laid on Damián’s forehead, perfectly coiled. His lips were parted, and he was breathing deeply and soundly. There were little cracks along his lips. Just a little dry from sleep.
Alex didn’t want to disturb him.
But Alex was choking. Damián’s arm, flung around him all night, was laying on his neck. Alex hadn’t realized just how much muscle he had on him until his forearm was crushing his windpipe.
Alex tried wiggling free without waking up Damián. In a desperate move to get oxygen flowing to his brain again, he lifted Damián’s arm off him. It woke Damián up with a little startled hum.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “Your arm got heavy on top of me.”
“You’re a little mouse of a man. I didn’t mean to crush you.”
“I’m what?”
Damián rubbed his knuckles over his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.
Alex leaned over to check his clock. “8:30.”
“It’s so early.”
Alex was usually leaving the apartment at 8:30 on weekdays. 8:30 was sleeping in for him. But he knew Damián worked different hours.
“Do you want breakfast?” Alex asked. “I have eggs and cereal. And I think bread if Eve didn’t eat it all before she left.”
“I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
Alex sat up and tossed his portion of the blankets off his legs. Damián caught his hand. Their fingers moved over one another, rubbing over knuckles and soft skin, still warm from sleep and a snug bed. Damián brought Alex’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm.
Alex thought about all of the places he had never been kissed before. He hadn’t known there could be so many places he enjoyed it. Even feeling Damián press against his palm, right along his heartline, managed to make his stomach sink and lift in waves.
He had really fallen for Damián. It should have worried him. He should have been thinking about the issues with the scheme—if this were happening, there was no clear way of knowing if their Halloween date would be work or pleasure. He wanted to pay Damián that $625, but he didn’t want Damián to feel insulted getting paid if there was something genuine between them.
But in the moment it didn’t worry Alex too much. There was still a week and a half before Halloween. And for now, he was still in bed with Damián.
He pulled his hand away from Damián’s lips and moved it up to his hair to brush it back from his forehead. He let the pads of his fingers just barely touch his skin and followed Damián’s hairline to his ear. And then he followed the curve of his cheekbone.
“Coffee?” Alex whispered.
They climbed out of bed. Alex found clean clothes to change into and lent Damián sweatpants that were too short in the legs and a t-shirt that fit perfectly.
He got to work making the coffee. Damián settled himself at the counter, trying to rub the rest of the sleep from his eyes.
Last night had really happened. Alex poured water into the coffee maker. He had really taken Damián home, and they had somewhat acknowledged feelings for each other. Some feelings.
Alex turned on the electric kettle tucked away in the corner of the counter. He poured boiling water into Damián’s mug and let it sit while he pulled out of the bag of fancy coffee he had just bought that week. It had been ground in the coffee shop for him. Eve didn’t like the sound of his grinder, and he was glad himself that he didn’t have to start up the loud, crunching whirring of it that morning.
He measured out the grounds perfectly and set them in the filter at the top of the pot. As the coffee dripped down into the pot, releasing a nutty and warm aroma through the kitchen, he poured out the hot water from Damián’s cup and dried it with a fresh dish towel. He wanted the mug to be warm so the coffee stayed warm, but he didn’t want there to be too much lingering water to dilute the drink.
The coffee machine beeped, and Damián watched Alex pour their cups, his eyes the most wide they had been all morning. Before Alex handed Damián’s mug over, he wiped down the side to clean up the minor spillage and cleaned up the coffee pot. When the steam rising from the mug finally began to wane, Alex tested the sides of the mug to make sure it wasn’t too hot to hold.
“I’m giving you one of Eve’s mugs,” he said. It was one of the few clean mugs. He hadn’t started the dishwasher last night due to more urgent things being on his mind. “This one is her favorite.”
“I love it. Please let her know I love it.”
“It should be cool enough to drink now.”
Damián took the cup that read #1 Dyke across it in bold letters and set it aside. He wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and pressed his face into his chest. Alex laid his hand on Damián’s head.
“Is there anything you want to do today?” Alex asked.
“I have a client this evening,” Damián said. “I think I just want to spend the morning with you.”
He pressed his face into Alex’s chest. And then, as if it was all too much all too suddenly, he pulled away. But for those few seconds they were so close, Alex smelled the very, very faint scent of flowery shampoo and hair gel and felt the warmth of Damián swallow him whole.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Damián asked. “At the club, I mean.”
“Yeah! It was nice seeing, you know, all of that.” Alex sat down next to him. “It was like I belonged there.”
“You did! You do. It’s for us. And I know it’s not something you’d typically do, so I’m very proud that you gave it a chance.”
Alex had felt so at home. He hadn’t realized how much he kept his identity close to his chest until he was surrounded by people who were, without a doubt, safe to be around. Even if they hadn’t spent much time there at all, it had left its mark on Alex.
“Oh no!” Alex said. “The drag queens. We didn’t get to see the show.”
“Noo! I’m sorry.” Damián was genuinely apologetic. “We can go back another night, and I promise you can see a show.”
“You’ll take me back?”
“Of course! If you want to go.”
They made plans through the morning. Alex didn’t want to go back too soon. The club had left him drained despite, he assured Damián, having a really good time.
They wrapped their hands around their coffee mugs and curled up on the sofa. The morning news played quietly in front of them until a cringy celebrity gossip show began and they turned it off, favoring their own conversations over any background noise.
Damián told Alex about his first trip to Dorothy’s. He went with friends a while ago, and he was old enough that he no longer necessarily liked club hopping and had felt so welcomed at Dorothy’s that he didn’t find any reason to go to a new club.
Alex told him all about how he had always preferred quieter places but that he was too awkward to go somewhere where he’d have to talk to people on his own.
“Why not go to Eve’s book club?” Damián asked. “We could have met long ago if you had.”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Sitting around in a group of strangers and talking to them all at once sounds like something I’ve had a nightmare about.”
“They don’t stay strangers.”
“I know, but they start out as strangers, and that’s the obstacle.”
“I was a stranger.”
“Yeah. That’s my fear. What if all those people at the book club are just being paid to be there, and I have to organize a dozen more revenge schemes? I don’t have the resources for that.”
Damián laughed. “I promise everyone goes to those meetings of their own volition. Any revenge schemes you find will be coincidental.”
Damián ran his hand over his hair. It was tangled along the back. The curls had come loose. The top looked fine still, somehow.
“Is it even that much of a revenge scheme anymore?” he asked. “The whole party? If the plan was to show up and pretend that we actually like each other—and I don’t want to assume anything, but—“
“Yeah. I know.”
“Whatever this is now—and we don’t have to put a name on it or anything—I don’t think we’re exactly lying. Not totally.”  
“Well.” Alex sighed. “I don’t know. It still feels like revenge, I guess?”
“It does.”
“Should we change something?”
“Like pretend we’re getting married?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“I have no idea how we’d go about planning that considering we’re both cis, gay men. Would it be terrible if we stick to our original idea and we pretend like dating?”
“No. I’m still planning on hamming it up. I have to give a good performance. I’m going to brainstorm all these things I’m going to brag about. Like how you wake me up with coffee and we have these long talks in the morning.”
It was true at least once.
Damián leaned back into the sofa and pulled his legs up around him. He looked tired. He must not have been used to waking up so early.
“You can take a nap if you want,” Alex said.
“I might.” Damián yawned. His nose scrunched up like a rabbit’s. “You don’t mind? I’d be bad company.”
“No, go ahead.”
“I’ll try not to fall asleep.”
“It really is okay.”
Damián settled into the couch, his head turned to Alex but his eyes closed. Fairly quickly, he fell asleep. His breathing slowed and deepened, and his mouth parted just slightly. When he was totally, deeply asleep, his nose began to whistle in the sweetest way Alex had ever heard.
He had never watched someone sleep before. He thought it would have felt more creepy. But it was quite nice. Damián looked totally peaceful getting much-needed rest.
Alex tidied around him. He started the dishwasher and rinsed out their mugs. When he was done and dressed and groomed for the day, Damián was still asleep but had fallen into a more comfortable position. Alex covered him with a blanket and returned to his own spot. If Damián didn’t wake on his own in the next hour, he would wake him and gently ask how much time he needed to get ready for his appointment and if he wanted a late lunch. But in the meantime, he was perfectly content with Damián sleeping next to him. And he would let himself get his hopes up that there were going to be more days exactly like that. 
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ladyknightellen · 18 days
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I would love to hear more about The One Where Henry's Metaphor Is Not A Metaphor or read a snippet from it!
Okay so, little summary of sorts, then I'll give a lil snippet!
-Henry was born with his heart partially outside his body along with some other issues that go along with that condition (the actual condition is called Pentalogy of Cantrell in case you're curious)
-For the most part, it follows canon, but deals mainly with Henry's struggle to find a balance between his genuine medical needs, and the safety precautions that have been imposed on him by his family. Basically Mary is being awful in new and horrifying ways, and Catherine stopped fighting her and became a bit of a helicopter mom after Arthur died.
The party is loud and bright and everything Henry would normally hate since he can’t dance or drink, but the moment he sees Alex, he doesn't really care anymore. The suit he’s wearing makes him look like he stepped off a runway, and Henry is sure his mouth is hanging open.
He can tell that Alex wants to dance, but he stays with Henry and talks with him about anything and everything. When the songs change to some early 2000s hip hop however, Alex can’t seem to help himself and he doesn’t resist when Nora comes and starts pulling him up.
“Come on Henry!” She yells over the music “You come too!”
“Oh no, it’s–” Alex trails off, like he’s trying to decide how to explain things to Nora without actually explaining it to her. He looks at Henry with a look that says ‘help’ and ‘sorry’ and Henry makes a decision that he knows he’s going to regret.
“I’ll join you!” Alex studies him with a concerned expression, and as they walk towards the dance floor, he pulls him aside and gives him a concerned look.
“Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to…umm…” He trails off, and Henry finds it painfully endearing how worried he looks.
“I’ll be fine Alex, remember how I told you that I don’t like people treating me like I’m made of glass?”
“Oh, right, sorry.”
Henry only makes it through one song before he starts feeling dizzy, and Alex follows him when he wades back through the crowd of bodies to find somewhere to sit down.
“Don’t bite my head off for asking this, but seriously, are you alright?” Alex asks. Henry doesn’t try to answer out loud, but he manages a weak nod that does nothing to help the dizziness and pounding headache.
“Do you want me to leave?” Alex asks “Because I don’t think I should, but I’m not gonna hover if you don’t want me to.”
“Stay” Henry says as he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, willing his body to take in deeper breaths. “I’ll be good– In a second.”
“I’ll believe you when you say something without gasping for air.” Henry cracks one eyelid open and gives Alex a look.
“I told you, I don’t– need you to treat me like– I’m made of glass.”
“Well call me crazy, but I feel like there’s a pretty big gap between treating you like you’re made of glass and just making sure you don’t pass out in the middle of a crowded ballroom.” He’s right, and Henry knows it, and he doesn’t have the energy at the moment to even attempt to protest, so he just nods and waits for the episode to pass.
When Henry opens his eyes this time, Alex is sitting in a chair next to him instead of hovering over him, but he’s still glaring at Henry with an expression that is a mix of worry and exasperation.
“I’m fine now Alex, I promise.” He says, sitting up fully again.
“Okay, see, now I believe you.”
“You can go back to dancing now, I’m fine.”
“No no it’s fine, I don’t mind hanging out with you, I’m sorry Nora dragged you out there.”
“Alex, please, just go back and enjoy your party. You don’t have to sit here with me the whole time, I know you want to dance and have fun. You don’t have to reign yourself in on my account, and don’t say you’re fine and you don’t care, because you are currently bouncing halfway out of your seat to the rhythm of the music. Go enjoy yourself, I’m fine. I promise.” The words come out a bit more forceful than he intended, and Alex looks almost hurt, but after a few more seconds, he stands up and gives Henry an awkward little wave before rejoining the mass of people on the dance floor.
Henry watches him for the next three songs until the DJ starts counting down to midnight. He sees Nora wrap her arms around Alex’s neck as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her in for a kiss just as everyone screams
“Happy New Year!”
For the second time that night, Henry feels like his chest is on fire, but for an entirely different reason. He’s not sure how he gets outside, but when the cold hits his face, he stops and reaches out to grab hold of the first thing he can find to steady himself. The bark of the tree is rough on the palm of his hand and it’s oddly comforting and grounding.
“Sir, are you alright?” Shaan’s voice startles him, and when he turns around so fast he nearly collapses.
“I–” He starts to say he’s ‘fine’ but he knows Shaan wouldn’t believe that for a second. The only problem is; there’s not much Shaan can do about what’s currently making him ‘not fine.’ “I’m not in need of assistance at the moment.” He says finally.
“Are you certain of that Sir?” Shaan asks, and there’s something in his tone that tells Henry that he’s picked up on what’s going on, or at least grasped that it’s not a medical emergency that’s got him gasping and holding on to a tree for dear life.
“Not really, but there’s nothing that would be in your power to do about my current predicament.”
“Ah, I see.” Shaan says, then waits for a moment, probably assessing if he should stay or go. “I’ll return to the room then Sir, if you don’t require anything from me.”
“Yes, thank you Shaan.”
Once Shaan has left him alone again, Henry rests his back against the tree and slides down to the ground to sit. He tilts his head up to stare at the night sky, the distant fireworks flickering in the edge of his vision, and he wonders, as he often does, if his father is watching him from somewhere in the great beyond.
“Hey dad” He says, feeling slightly foolish talking to the sky, but the words keep coming and he couldn’t stop them if he tried.
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Fictober Day 9
Prompt: Sounds like a you problem
Fandom: The X-Files
          “Mulder, that tickles.”  Scully manages to squeak out between giggles.  He is drawing small circles with the tip of his middle finger around Scully’s burgeoning belly.  No matter how many times he touches it, kisses it, or lays his head upon it he still can’t settle into the fact that this is their child growing moment by moment inside her.  “Besides Mulder I have to go to work I’m gonna be late.”  She attempts to rise from the bed but is held down by the weight of her belly.  “A little help her please.”  She demands reaching out.
          “I don’t know Scully,” Mulder says with an impish grin.  I think you should stay home, play a little hooky with your baby daddy.”
          She ruffles her face in disgust.  “You know I hate that expression Mulder.  Besides some of us have jobs to get back to.”
          “Oh, not me.”  Mulder bats back mildly confrontational still not sure what unemployment really means to him.  “I’m just practicing my newfound stay at home dad skills.”  He waggles his eyebrows at her eliciting a genuine smile as she hoists herself out of the bed.  “Seriously Scully, just call in.  I’m sure Doggett will understand.”  He says his name with just a hint of vitriol, it isn’t Doggett so much as the fact that he has his job and his partner, that’s the real problem.
          “As much as I would rather stay in bed with you all day and listen to you list off some truly horrifying baby names, I have a mountain of paperwork waiting for me.”
          “Sounds like a you problem Agent Scully.”  He says agent in the most mocking tone he can muster as he swings his body over the end of the bed.
          “Yeah, well paperwork tends to pile up when you’re mourning the death of your child’s father.”  She steadies herself against the door frame, pulling the skin of her forehead up and down.  “I’m sorry Mulder… it’s still, I don’t know.”  She shakes her head at a loss for any words that could adequality describe what putting him into the ground as their child grew inside her was actually like.
          “No Scully.  I’m sorry.  Go to work.  I’ll be here when you get back.”  He places one hand on her belly and the other beneath her chin as he tilts her lips up for a kiss.  “I’m not going anywhere, not again.”
She nuzzles her nose into his, breathing her words into his lips.  “I won’t survive it a second time Mulder.  I can’t lose you again.”
“You’ll never have to say goodbye to me again Scully.  I won’t do that to you or little no name.”  He presses a kiss to her lips, forehead, and stomach.  When he made that promise he really believed he meant it.  In a few months they’d both know he lied.     
@fictober-event @xffictober2022 @today-in-fic
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Unfinished Drabble
I worked on this a few weeks ago and realised that I'll probably never get around to finishing it, but I like it too much to delete, so I'm posting it here. Enjoy a half-finished, mostly fluffy (if you ignore the last part) drabble.
After about twenty minutes of scrolling through a niche food blog that MJ uses for their date nights in the city, Peter manages to find a hole-in-the-wall spot for him and Tony to have lunch at. 
“This it?” Tony asks, pulling into the parking lot of Anderson’s Breakfast and Lunch with the cherry-red Ferrari (his most luxurious car) that he likes to parade around for Peter’s embarrassment. As long as he isn’t being picked up from school with it, Peter really doesn't mind it all that much. 
“Uh-huh.” The parking lot is full of holes, dragging the car down near the Earth before they right themselves. The seventeen-year-old smiles sheepishly when Tony shoots him an unimpressed look. He always pretends to care more about his extensive car collection a lot more than he actually does. “Careful, Mr. Stark.” 
“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, kid.” Tony grumbles as they park.  
“You forget to put on your seatbelt at least once a week.” 
“God, when did you become such an evil, miserable child?” Tony sighs dramatically, setting a hand over his chest like his poor heart is breaking. Peter grins wickedly and rolls his eyes. “Remember when I was the light of your life? Your childhood hero? Your biggest inspiration-”  
“Old age is messing with your memory.” 
“I’m telling May that you speak to me like this.” 
“Go ahead. She encourages it.” 
They’re celebrating Peter finishing his first semester’s exams; only one more semester of high-school before he’s (hopefully) off to M.I.T in the fall. He’s as excited as he is terrified to leave Queens come September. Tony has been around to calm him from every spiral thus far, but he’s worried that as he months fly by, it won’t be enough anymore. 
Peter forcibly pushes those thoughts away. Leaving for Cambridge is still over seven months away. Right now, he’s still here with Tony, about to devour all the greasy brunch food that his stomach allows. There’s nowhere that he would rather be. 
The hostess’ (a teenager that can’t be much older than Peter, with snowy blonde hair and skin so pale that it practically sparkles in the sterile restaurant lighting) jaw drops when Tony Stark walks in. She shivers and stutters while she gropes for their menus, stumbling a little as she leads them to their table. Tony thanks her with a genuine smile (Peter whispers a thank you too, but he sincerely doubts that she notices in her starstruck haze).  
“This isn’t one of those vegan places that your girlfriend likes, right?” Tony asks worriedly, after they sit down. He sets his sunglasses on the table, something that Peter knows isn’t a meaningless gesture. This is him being open, being vulnerable, like his therapist suggests, which he knows from Tony’s various complaints.  
“You have a weird vendetta against veganism.” Peter picks up the syrup-sticky menu, grimacing. “And no, it’s not.” 
“I would like to see you try to be vegan, Mr. I-Need-Six-Thousand-Calories-A-Day-To-Function.”  
Peter was horrified when he first discovered how deeply his enhanced metabolism affects his calorie intake, mainly because there was no way that May would be able to afford to feed him as much as he needed. Despite Peter’s adamant protests when Tony found out, he sends a generous chunk of cash every week to make up for it.  
“I bet I could do it.” The seventeen-year-old insists.  
“Your favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs.” 
The bickering dies down as the pair get engrossed in their menus. The waitress comes back around, still trembling ever-so-slightly, to take their orders. Peter orders a BLT and a fried egg over avocado toast (something MJ recently got him hooked on), and beams when Tony orders French Toast and fruit. 
“Hey,” Peter starts joyously, after the waitress has left. “You’re finally trying normal breakfast food, instead of all that fancy stuff.” 
“What are you talking about?” Tony stretches an arm leisurely over the cushion of the book, full attention on Peter. In two-and-a-half years of knowing him, he’s still not entirely used to hanging out with his childhood-idol-turned-father-figure almost every day.  
“Normal people don’t eat raspberry pain au chocolate.” 
“Chocolat.” Tony corrects him, laying the French pronunciation on thick.  
They fall into an easy rhythm after that, because how could they not, when they are together practically every day. Over the years, the weekend internship has shifted into Peter staying at least a night or two during the week, on top of whole weekend, on top of all his holidays from school, on top of just for a few hours when May is working late and he doesn’t want to be alone at the apartment.  
They talk about Peter’s new STEM classes and what he did on patrol last night and where he’s planning on taking MJ for Valentine’s Day. 
“I could pull some strings and get you two a nice dinner reservation.” Tony shrugs, like it’s something he does for people every day. Peter toys with the sleeve of the M.I.T hoodie that he stole from the billionaire’s closet last summer, when he was going away to Europe.  
“Thank you, but...” He clears his throat. “I don’t think Em will like a fancy dinner. I was thinking of taking her to this used record and bookstore in Flushing that she really likes.” 
Tony doesn’t look offended, reaching down for his wallet instead. “I can still lend you a couple bucks. Is three hundred good?” 
Peter clearly chose the wrong moment to take a sip of his water. He nearly does a spit-take. “Three hundred dollars?” 
The man rolls his eyes, throwing the bills at Peter. “No, three hundred pennies. Yes, three hundred dollars, Peter Piper. We live in the most expensive state in the country.” 
“It’s a used bookstore, Mr. Stark.”  
“The word used isn’t in my vocabulary.” 
Peter snorts just as the waitress sets down their plates. The teenager falls silent, nearly choking in his haste to take the first bite of the BLT set down in front of him. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, ignoring Tony semi-amused look from across the table. Tiny places always taste better. 
He’s nearly done with his avocado toast when he feels it.  
It being something cold slipping down his neck. The hairs on his arm stand up, rising to attention as the air seems to shift around him. Something twists in his stomach, burning his insides like acid. Something… something is wrong.  
Tony notices it almost immediately. “Pete? What’s wrong?”  
He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is dead air. Every impulse buried deep inside of his brain is screaming at him to get away, begging him to protect himself. Protect himself from what? The air gets hotter and hotter until he’s sizzling from the inside.  
A thumb is suddenly rubbing small circles into his wrist. It brings Peter back momentarily, enough to catch a glimpse of Tony’s hand clasped over his own gently, before every other feeling outweighs it. He feels dizzy, Tony’s voice muffled and foggy in the far background. “Hey, hey, buddy, are you having an overload?”  
Tony stands, probably about to make a mad dash for the car to grab Peter’s ear defenders and his sensory sunglasses, but Peter’s senses sharpen at the exact moment the man slides from the booth. Peter gets up just as quick and throws himself at Tony, around the torso. “Wait!” 
They hit the ground just as the windows shatter from the force of the explosion. 
When Peter comes to, he’s sitting up. 
The contradiction makes his head spin. His lips feel stuck shut, so he breathes stuffy air in through his nostrils as he attempts to move. Peter realizes, quickly, that his arms are pinned firmly behind his back, feet planted in front of him but flat and unmovable.  
“He’s awake.” There’s a gruff voice near his ear, grating against his sensitive hearing. Peter feels himself wince as broad, rough fingers grab his face and force it left, squeezing his jaw. He doesn’t open his eyes as hot, rancid breath blows in his face.  
“It’s your fault if he punches you out.” Tony’s familiar voice is across the room, too far for comfort. “He’s cranky when you wake him up.” 
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I Get the Feeling That You'll Never Need Me Again (Jason Todd x Reader x Dick Grayson)
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You had always been a timid person who just needed the confidence to break out of their shell. It was what Jason did long ago, constantly challenging you out of that shell whilst providing you that safety net. Since Jason was gone and eventually discovered dead, you had shyed away from everyone, even though you still remained very close to the Bat family. 
Heights were your biggest fear. Jason often tried to remedy it, assuring you not know did you not have to worry about him and his family- you also had nothing to fear. He often took you at nights just to hang around on the rooftops. A gentle and small exposure to your fear. Now that he was gone, so was your bravery to counter it. That was until Nightwing, of course. He got the idea somewhat randomly. You seemed happiest with Jason even if you dragged you into your fears. In a way, he was good for you just as you were good for him. Even if you were terrified, you had the time of your life with him. So he figured why not try again. You would do Jason proud. He'd have never let you live it down if he knew you had stopped after all. 
To Nightwing’s surprise, you agreed and took his hand. "Oh I haven't done this in a while and it shows." Your legs felt like jelly as you tried to breath through your anxiety. "Just look up." Dick said as he climbed down the chimney. You did, even craning your neck as far back as you could manage. Even as you felt yourself begin to lose balance. Dick chuckled as he took your hands and pulled you upright again. "Not that far." He said with amusement as you let out a small laugh as you looked to the ground bashfully. 
Nightwing walked along the edge of the roof. "Okay now you're just showing off." You said flatly. "Haven’t you heard of the Flying Grayson's?" Dick grinned and you giggled. "Once or twice." You replied with a smile. "I'm a big fan." He nodded. "Oh yeah?" You asked. "Come on up with me!" Dick held out a hand. "I'm good, thanks." You grimaced "Come on... you know Jason would never forgive me if I didn't pressure you into this." Dick chuckled and you sighed. He was right. Jason would have none of it. You sighed again and took his hand. "Okay, stand in front of me. I've got you." Dick held your hands as you began to tremble. He interlocked his fingers with yours. "Okay, now I'm going to jump down and you are going to relax and I will literally walk you through it." "Oh, how delightful." You muttered, keeping your eyes away from the drop. "Or I could let go?" Dick offered with a smirk. You squeezed his hand tightly. "Don't you dare." He snickered. "Take a step forward." 
You were surprised how quickly he had you relaxed. It wasn't long before the two of you began to play around. Dick went the extra mile to get you to relax and genuinely smile. It's just what came natural to him. He was the one who'd want to cheer his loved one up no matter what. "This is very like the Titanic." You said. "Huh?" He asked. "You know like the titanic when they're at the point of the boat and arms out? Rose is all happy feeling like she's flying? You know, the most romantic scene out of one of the most romantic movies of all time!?" You gawked at him as the two of your dropped your arms out of position. "That's a romantic movie?" Dick grimaced. "What do you mean?" You asked. "That movie is so sad and the amount of people died- why are you looking at me like I just grew another head?" "I don't know whether to be horrified at myself or you. Wait, no I choose you! The movie was a literal love story!" "Meh..." Dick shrugged. "Meh!?" You cried out. "What do you mean 'meh'!?" "I don't know, I just don't consider death on a boat to be all to romantic! Didn't she let him go after saying she wouldn't? Wasn’t there a whole thing about how both of them could fit on that door?" "Oh no, I need to get you to watch this movie with me." You said with determination. "Absolutely not!" He shook his head. "I fell into that trap by Barbara and I can't guarantee Tim will have my back this time." The two of you laughed. 
After a moment, Dick held out his hand and waited. You looked at his hand before inspecting his gaze. "What?" You asked as you reached out with your own hand. "Dance with me." He grinned as he pulled you to the middle of the roof. "I can't dance to save myself." "I won't tell anyone." Dick chuckled. Slowly the two of you began to sway, both of his hands upon your back with yours around his neck. It was indescribable how safe you felt with Dick, just as you had done with Jason so long ago. You never pictured yourself being on a roof ever again. Yet here you were, looking into Dick's blue eyes, slow dancing on the roof. "Thank you for this." You said softly. "No, thank you. Jason would be proud of you, you know." Dick smiled at you. "I miss him." You admitted and he nodded. "That's okay. Good even. It means you haven't forgotten him." "I always wonder what he'd be doing now if he was alive. What we would be doing. What we'd be like." You spoke quietly. "Maybe we would be different." Dick pondered. "I'd have more than just Tim to torment." You laughed. "I don't think you need to worry about what you'd be like because you'd make him proud every day." Dick smiled at you. 
Out of sight and seemingly out of mind, Jason watched that very rooftop from another. His red hood covering his face as he kept hidden. His lips in a tight line, his harsh gaze almost a fierce glare etched permanently upon his face. A lot had happened since he was Robin. It almost resembled watching his old life from a third person point of view. The life he used to have was long gone yet so close and playing out before his very eyes. He watched as Nightwing took your hands and spun you. He watched that beautiful smile of your grace your features. He missed that smile more than anything when held captive. He had to imprint it into his mind to keep him going most days. To be somewhat released from the pain and the situation, he'd picture that smile and all the times he had earned that smile. Once again, he was being replaced. There was a new Robin and now you had found someone to fill the hole he had left. It should have been him. It should have been him up there with you. Not Dick Grayson. Although, Jason was overcome with a wave of realisation and a hurt that only struck on old wounds a deep vague pang in his chest. It looks like you didn't need him anymore. Once again, he was left in the past.   The last bit of hope in him died, snuffed out like a candle. There really was no going back.
I am SORRY, JASON.
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icharchivist · 11 months
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god now i’m thinking back to the Nalhegrande arc and how it really managed to make me genuinely Hate, Hate, HATE Gilbert, that it’s one of the few antagonists in GBF that i find genuinely unredeemable and that i hate with all of my being, but how the end they gave him is so, so horrifying, that i can’t even be glad that he suffered to this extend and therefore i feel just so genuinely bad about Gilbert, not because he had any reason to be pitied for his backstory or anything, but just because the way his storyarc ended was just so damn cruel. Earned in the sense that it was always building up to it, but man. man.
Like this specific mix of pure, unfiltered hatred, with this pure unfiltered horror that I can’t be glad about in any case, is so damn rare imo and i’m still so amazed granblue pulled it off. one of the best antagonist of the game imo.
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mazuwii · 2 years
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Chapter 13 || Stolkhom
Reiner x reader
Previous chapter
Authors note: I am so sorry for being so late, this entire year has been about my collapsing sanity all because of my stupid art. And genuinely, this has helped me take a break from it. Even though it’s the last. Again, it is unedited and I’m sorry if it’s not good but I’ll get to it. Thank you for supporting me! I really appreciate all of you
Warnings: violence
Lunging at the man threatening him with a knife, Zeke tossed it out of his hold and managed to land a punch against his jaw, in hopes of knocking him out. His previous training days should be paying off but today, he was abnormally shaky and fragile. Would he make it out alive? Would Pieck hate him for dying on her-
He cut his thoughts out a bit too late as a fist collided against the side of his head, causing him to collide against the counter and slide off the horrifying dent he left.
Even though his vision blurs for a short while, Zeke tossed himself away from the direction of the incoming knife, grabbing the wrist and twisting it. The man shrieked, triggering the other to charge toward the blond with his iron knuckles.
"Stop fucking around Jeagar, one hit and it's over for you!"
Suddenly all his fears cornered him the instant his neck caged in between the bigger man's bicep and forearm. No matter how hard he scratched and pried at his arm, it wouldn't even jerk. If he didn't move, the other man would stab him, right into his open torso. There seemed to be only one way out.
Although a trick so dirty, Zeke swung his leg up against his groin. The knife dropped to the cold floor as the man's voice did, kneeling in agony.
The former didn't seem to like that. Suddenly snatching a fistful of Zeke's hair, he yanked his head back before pounding it against the table. Zeke collapsed with a bloody nose, in pain but conscious enough to notice the sharp weapon had fallen precisely by his side.
Before the military officer could finish the job off with one last blow to Zeke's head, the bearded man punctured his chest, now straddling his limp body with the bloody knife in hand. He swiftly jabbed another two holes to ensure his death.
However, the end of his worries was far from near. A growl that hadn't alerted him due to his dizziness pulled him out of his daze too late.
Even in such a state, Zeke refused to give the knife up. The two men toppled over the other in a wrestle that would determine who would finally win. Zeke wasn't looking so lucky. He was in such a state of shock that all he could do was shakily grunt. The look of horror engraved into the dead man's face stuck to the front of his mind. He had never killed someone so up close.
When his physical strength proved worthless, Zeke shoved the man off and attempted to reach for the knife cabinet on the other side of the room, however his frailty resulted in the other man thrusting him against the hard table. It didn't budge, not even against Zeke's aching hip.
He snatched Zeke's collar before puncturing his torso. He didn't have enough strength to yell, all he could do was weakly moan and scan for the knife with his wavering vision.
Just as he was about to aim for another stab, a huge pan collided against the back of his head, shocking Zeke when he had collapsed out of the way to reveal his fiance standing there, mortified at the sight of the injured man.
"Didn't I... tell you to run a-away?"
"We can't talk about this now!" She snatched the towel from the counter and ripped it into a nicely sized shred. "We have to get you help! Fast!"
After tying the shreds of fabric tight around his wound, she wrapped an arm around his waist and slung his arm over her shoulder, bearing a majority of his weight.
≈≈≈
Both adults bathed after making love. And although it may have been far off into the middle of the night, they decided to leave sleep to go make princess cookies. Reiner was cutting out heart shapes and Y/n was slicing them into the shapes of crowns.
The small tap of movement caught her attention, making its way to the sleeping dog. "Look at that little cutie pie..." Her powdered finger pointed to the comfy small bed in the corner of the room, their fluffy baby curled in the midst of all the fuzz.
"He's just earning back that energy from terrorising us all day." Reiner joked, sporting a wholesome smile.
"Yeah well, his harassment is appreciated." His wife giggled under her breath. "Hey, look." She nudged him closer, "I made a cookie man."
His bronze eyes wandered around the funny shape she made, on the baking tray and ready to go in. "We'll see how he turns out." He pecked her forehead.
While they waited for the cookies to bake the two were sharing a book, huddled together in a blanket. The pages seemed useless since they trailed off to chatting away at Christmas, making small plans and connections to what they could do. "No Reiner." She laughed, "You can't cut the Christmas tree."
"What?" He whined, "But then how"-
"We'll buy a fake one. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll have a car by then... It'll be so fun." She ruffled his hair, her smile fading into a scornful look aimed into the open space. "... every last Christmas was ruined by those shit stains."
Reiner's eyes softened at her huff of defeat, his hand going to her head and gently rocking it back and forth to tease her. "That's all in the past, you're safe now."
She latched onto his wrist to stop him from tilting her head like a little playball, darting an accusatory glare at him. "Me? You were the victim of those rats, if only I could pull a pied piper on them."
He snickered, "And what? Lead their children into a cave?"
"No, I'd lead them into a cave and- and I'll sentence them to an eternity of having an itchy throat!"
"Yeah? That's the worse punishment you could think of?" Reiner burst out hysterically as she began listing more. Her finger poking at him only made it worse.
He dipped back against the couch, making her tower over him. "Why are you laughing!? I'm being genuine!"
"Sorry..." He calmed down, wiping at his eyes. The warmth of his hands planted against her waist. "You're just too cute."
"I'm trying to be protective here. At least pretend to feel protected."
"I don't have to pretend." He lowered her onto him, hoping to kiss her at least once. Alas, the oven had to interrupt the moment. A smile lit up her face as it cocked towards the direction of the noise, "Get up! Get up! We can decorate the cookies now!" She hopped off after giving him a hard peck on his lips.
Smiling at the ecstatic woman, he wordlessly followed.
Everything came out looking fine, maybe a bit wonky but nothing that would ruin the planned decorations.
The couple prepared coloured icing beforehand and so took right off to it once they cooled down from the heat.
Yet even during such a calm moment, somewhere, a catastrophic one plays out. 
"AUNTIE PIECK!" Out of all the horrific things occurring in the car, the last thing Pieck needed was Mihai's blood-curdling screams. This had been going on ever since she sped off from their abandoned house. The little boy was strapped in the back, eyes as wide as saucers shot towards the dying man beside him. 
"HE'S NOT WAKING UP! UNCLE ZEKE ISN'T WAKING UP!" He sobbed, "AUNTIE PIECK! YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!" Although intentions were pure, his constant crying caused the poor woman to grip onto the wheel, her sense of direction barely clinging to her mind. She was driving at a speed no sane person would- especially at a time like this.
"Mihai, calm down... please..." He could barely hear her over his high pitched squeals. The blond man had been long gone since he entered the car, Pieck hoped he was just napping- or had fallen asleep. It wasn't weird for him to do that, especially in dire moments, Zeke had a reputation for falling asleep anywhere, no matter how loud, cold, or uncomfortable.
However, the hinted ideas of death haunted her mind the more she stared at him through the rearview mirror. His bloodied palm was limp on his lap, far from the dampened cloth that was once holding the blood in. Zeke's head tilted back, slightly nudging only when the car curved directions, or hit a bump.
Through all this, his chest mildly heaved. Maybe his breaths were weak, but it was still something.
"Reiner look." She called without moving her attention away from the cookie. "Hm?" He leaned over, finding the tan cookie with a full head of blond, brown dots for eyes and a smile. "I made a little Reiner."
"You forgot one thing." 
Y/n hummed in confusion, observing as he bought a bag of white icing to the tray and began carefully outlining something. She patiently waited for him to finish, the patient woman trusted him, as long as he wasn't touching the beautiful face she created.
"Here, now it's done." Once revealed, she was met with a badly drawn six-pack.
"Confident, aren't we?" She scoffed.
"Oh come on, don't you think"-
Her hand shot up. His words rapidly came to a halt in response. "Reiner... hear that?"
"What?" He whispered.
"There's a car at the front." She rushed to the closed curtains to take a peak through the open creaks, only to gasp.
"Hey, dove, you okay?"-
"That's Zeke and Pieck!" Y/n wasted no time in sprinting off to the front door, leaving Reiner dumbfounded. He shook his confusion off and hastily followed after her trail.
The car door flew open to a hysteric Pieck. Instead of greeting Y/n as she usually would, she frantically stumbled to the back door, where she snatched Mihai out of his seat the second she had undone his seatbelt. Y/n jogged to the panicked woman, in hopes of figuring out what was going on with her. 
"You- uh- I! Have to go to the hospital, take Mihai!" She dumped the shrieking boy into Y/n's arms.
"Wait, Pieck! What's wrong?!"
"Zeke was stabbed!" 
"What?!"
Before she could duck back into the car, Y/n latched onto her wrist and yanked her back. "I'm driving you there, stay with Zeke, I know a faster route so... Just gimme a sec..." She cautiously ran to her husband and gently held out their son to him. "I won't be gone for too long-" The blond engulfed his crying child, cupping the back of his head and muffling his screeches of sorrow. His gaze never left his frantic wife, who snatched her coat from the hanger beside him.
"Rein, if anyone comes, close the attic curtains so I know someone's gone in there."
He nodded obediently, not having the chance to add anything else as she had raced into the car and started it in a rush. Even through the dark of night, he could spot her determined eyes trained on his, as if reassuring him. Right before she pulled out and left. 
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Reiner gently kicked the front door closed. A swarm of warm air engulfed the sobbing child once he was carried inside. "Uncle Zeke- he!" Mihai choked, "He's dying!"
Although very much clueless as to what happened, Reiner could understand to some extent that this may have been a military matter. Were they searching for him and figured Pieck and Zeke have an idea of his whereabouts. But how would they figure out that he's actually alive? After all, Y/n did mention that the doctor helped spread the word that he died. 
"You know your mommy and aunt Pieck would never allow that to happen," Reiner said. He took the little blond to the sofa and swaddled him in a fluffy blanket, returning him on to his lap. Where Mihai cuddled against his torso. Slowly, his crying reduced into occasional sniffles. "Really?"
"Of course, they're both very smart women."
"Pa..." He whimpered, "I was so scared."
“You’re safe now baby,” he kissed his head. His larger hand rubbing comfortably at the boys back. Mihai yawned in response. Having his sleep interrupted and witnessing terror unsurprisingly sucked out all of his energy.
“Now you just go back to sleep, kay? I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Mmkay… night…pa.”
By the time Zeke had been taken in, the two were reassured he would be okay by the doctor. He hadn’t lost too much blood, thankfully since the knife missed any vital areas.
Y/n went to go rest by Pieck’s side outside the operating room, being her shoulder to sleep on.
Neither really knew how long they had slept for but by the looks of it, only an hour passed.
That didn’t phase either of them, in fact they linked arms, accidentally drifting back into unconsciousness on each other.
Pieck was content, okay with the fact that they gave up their hometown for this. Now they could change who they were and start new lives, maybe even start a family… even with worrying about when the military may find them. Who knows, would they leave them be? Or hunt them down again?
Whatever it was, she knew she’d keep running, the same with Y/n. Of course.
Later on the doctor woke the two women up to break the news that he was alright. Pieck was allowed to go into the room with Zeke, to finally reassure her worries. However, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about poor fatigued Y/n, who got dragged into this mess.
Pieck told her, that it was fine to go home now, and that the two would manage just fine. Y/n understood, she’d just be the third wheel if she stayed now. And even though Pieck offered to drive her home, she declined, saying that the bus was a preference. With that, she took off after sending Zeke her regards.
This time, she caught a cab, knowing it would be far too dangerous for her to travel alone at such a time.
Relief washed over her time and time again today, but it never hit so hard as to when she caught sight of her house, free of any violent signs.
Her aching legs took her to the living room, where neither of them were. Nor the kitchen, where all mess had been cleaned away. She took off upstairs and into her room, where her child and husband lay.
Stretching out her sore muscles. She climbed into bed and joined the two. Only sleeping after kissing each of their cheeks.
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thegamecollection · 2 years
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CHECKING OUT THE MURDER HOTEL!
It’s very fitting to us that after seeing the first in this collection of horrifying, interactive drama survival games make its debut at Gamescom 2018 with Man of Medan, we then got to experience hands-on the final chapter in Part One of the Anthology with The Devil In Me at Gamescom 2022!
From the moment we felt the fear on deck way back when, to last week’s short stay at The Murder Hotel, we knew we’d be hooked on this range of offerings from Supermassive Games. The team of course behind 2015 horror classic ‘Until Dawn’ were never going to let any of us down when it came to choice-based terror... And true to form with the previous 3 releases in Part One, The Devil In Me ticks the boxes in eerily strong fashion.
Firstly we’d like to thank our friends at Bandai Namco Entertainment for providing us with the fast pass to play the game! We’d also like to extend an apology to the (many) disgruntled fans of the series that we walked past to get to the front of the queue. A special mention to the guy that said “yeah, you’re really sorry”... Honestly, we were!
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Now that our apologies are out of the way, let us get down to the nitty gritty and tell you about our experience in-game...
If you’re familiar with The Dark Pictures titles then you need no introduction to how they play. This sounds like we’re saying “it’s just more of the same” and whilst that may be true, that is by no means a negative slant! The consistently strong pacing is unshakable, and the life or death (sometimes death or death) choices that leave you feeling genuinely responsible for a friend’s untimely demise, is as raw a feeling now as it was in 2018.
I found myself playing as Jamie, one of a group of documentary film makers that have been invited to a modern replica of H.H. Holmes’ infamous Murder Hotel. A real-life serial killer from the 1800s and a wild one at that. If you’ve seen the initial trailer for this release then you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about when I say the story feels scarily like a SAW movie! From the off I felt like I was indeed playing a game in which there are no rules, only death... And that quickly became apparent.
Wandering the abandoned halls, climbing over strewn objects, shimmying across tiny ledges and jumping gaps with nothing but a torch for guidance, all felt like a familiar yet shuddering experience. Cut-scenes playing in between my movements showed a dark figure in the shadows, watching my every decision and revealing the evil behind this whole gruesome setup... Again I revert back to my SAW link and how it felt influential in this story.
True to form, jump scares are never far away! I found myself stepping backwards in a painfully uncool manner when a mannequin in front of me was sharply pulled into a vent by chains. The headset I was wearing really played it’s role of scaring me half to death brilliantly. Nice one, headset. I’d have thrown you if you were mine.
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(I wasn’t allowed to take photos in here so this is the only one I managed to get! Sorry, Bandai!)
Continuing my move through this not-so-fun house of fun, examining clues, getting separated from other characters by collapsing floors, finding keys, and shuffling bravely in the dark, all lead me to the climax of this gameplay demo. Two compressed chambers with my friends, Erin and Kate, stuck inside side-by-side... Of course, the oxygen supply began to seize. Of course, I had to choose. Sorry, Erin. It wasn’t personal. Truth be told I didn’t even mean to choose you to die. But as she spluttered, coughed her guts up and faded away in front of my eyes, she wrote a clue in her own blood on the window:
“NOT PENNY’S BOAT”
If you’re not a LOST fan then this will instead be lost on you. It’s also of course NOT what she wrote, but we won’t spoil things for you too much!
Here is a *SPOILER ALERT* however... My colleague who played at the station behind me later informed that he chose to save Kate instead. This in turn saved Erin too... I say it again... Sorry, Erin. I barely even knew you.
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Feast your eyes on the Gamescom Trailer above for The Devil In Me and don’t just take our word for it... Whilst its the last in Part One of The Dark Pictures Anthology, it’s by no means least.
Pre-order on all formats ahead of its launch on 18th November, right here at The Game Collection!
Fans of the SAW franchise and The Dark Pictures alike will all find themselves saying “Yes, I want to play a game.”
-Jack
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lieutenant76 · 3 years
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Caught in the storm wip for patreon.
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Ik you've done something like this but can u pls do a smut were me, remus and Sirius are in a relationship and I'm remus's good girl and he's a soft dom with me but he's all strict w Sirius
Good girl and bad puppy
Or
Sirius getting wrecked and you treated like a princess
Enjoy darling <3
Warning: 18+
---
“You do know he loves me more right?” Sirius asked slowly, as if he was talking to a daft toddler.
“Shut up Sirius” you hissed, “I know you‘re doing it on purpose.”
You hid your head behind your book again, desperately trying to block out his annoying face.
“He loves me moreeee” Sirius sang, his voice breaking midway and you snorted.
“Yeah right, especially with that voice.”
Sirius grinned, his tipical eye-crinkling, teeth showing grin. It let you know that he did not mean anything he had said earlier. Both of the boys loved you just as much as you loved them.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you do behave every once in a while though.”
Sirius’ face fell, as if you just said the most ridiculous thing in all those years you’d know each other.
“And why would I do that?” He looked genuinely spooked.
“Because he would be nice to you as well?” you said slowly, this time him being the daft toddler.
His face was horrified as he yelled out with utter disgust in his voice. “That is absolutely outrageous! Why would I want Moony to be nice? Ew! You take your vanilla shit and leave me out of this mess-”
“Alright I get it! Jesus Christ, you need anger management!” You cut him off, angrily turning back to your book.
“Vanilla shit, huh?”
Sirius closed his eyes, silently cursing under his breath. Putting on an exaggerated smile he turned in his chair, hugging Remus around the waist. 
“Moony!” he said, overly cheery, “Oh I’ve missed you! Sit, sit.” Sirius ushered him to sit and gave you a pleading look. Caving, you put your book down.
“Hi Rem” you smiled and he leaned over to kiss you after he kissed Sirius.
“Hi sweetheart, what were you talking about?”
You shrugged, cheeks tinting pink. Fuck, you are a terrible liar.
“Oh um nothing. You know, the usual...” Your voice trailed off and Sirius nodded ethusiastically. 
“Exactly!”
Remus smirked and turned to Sirius, raising a brow. “So you were discussing how vanilla I am?”
Busted.
You immediately responded. “I didn’t say that, Sirius did!”
Sirius gaped at you, mouth opening and closing a few times before he spluttered, “You - You utter bit-”
“Padfoot.” Remus warned, expression turning strict instantly. Remus hated insults out of the bedroom.
Sirius turned to him, a pleading look in his eyes. “Moony, I swear I didn’t mean it like that!”
Remus tilted his head to his right. “How did you mean it Sirius?“
Now it was Sirius‘ turn to blush. „I just said that I like you being“ he cleared his throat and rushed the last part “um- roughwithme.“
Remus smirked at Sirius and nodded to himself.
„Bad puppy.“
Sirius melted.
---
„Moony?“ Sirius stuttered as Remus looked him up and down, a thoughtful look on his face.
„Can‘t decide if I want you to fuck her or if I want to fuck you...“ Remus said with a coy smile.
You bit your lip when you felt your cunt clench at his words, already wet from the way Remus was staring at the both of you. Like he just wanted to wreck you.
„I certainly wouldn‘t mind fucking her“ Sirius smirked, but Remus just hung his head and chuckled.
„I don‘t care if you mind Sirius.“
Whenever Remus said your boyfriends actual name you knew that the scene was starting. It was a warning, if you will.
You pinched his hand to make him shut up and for once he listened.
„What do you say pup?“ Remus looked at you, a gentle smile on his face when you shyly played with your fingers. „Tell Remmy what you want.“
„I want-“ you licked your lips exitedly „I want you to watch us fuck, Remmy.“
Remus‘ smile widened and he nodded his head. „If that‘s what my baby wants...“ He opened his arms and gave you the signal to start, leaning back on the chair to watch you. His two precious subs, both the most gorgeous beings in all of Hogwarts.
Sirius took the reigns and pulled you on his lap, lips eagerly smashing on yours and he kissed you sloppily. Your hands wandered under his shirt and you traced his soft skin with your fingertips, savoring his soft moans and shivers. He flipped you over, craling between your thighs and continued to kiss you soundly, hips grinding on yours. He slowed down, his clothed cock grinding over your bare cunt, slow and teasing.
“Stop showing off and fuck our girl.” Remus said between grittet teeth and Sirius smirked at the dom. Turning back to you he put your hands on the waistband of his boxers.
“Undress me” he drawled.
You tugged his boxers down and his hard cock sprang free, already flushed and leaking. You tried to wrap your legs around him and pull him close, but he blocked your attempts and forced you into a different position.
Your were on your hands and knees with your fae towards Remus when Sirius pushed in with a hard thrust, not even giving you a second to adjust before he pounded into you. You fell forward and let out moans and shrieks when he hit that spot inside of you over and over again. God, it felt so good. The veins of his cock were rubbing at your sensitive walls, his balls slapping your ass. The sight was obscene, being watched by one boyfriend as the other one just watched with a self-satisfied grin. Watching you get fucked like a slut.
Remus made his way over after a particular loud cry from you and took your face in both of his palms, thumbs smoothing over your flushed cheekbones. Your hands instantly clasped on his wrists for some stability.
He chuckled. “Look at my darling girl, getting fucked by our puppy, hm?” Both of you groaned at that, Sirius starting to get aggressive, fingers digging into your hips with one hand on your clit. 
“Ah there!” you gasped, thrusting back against him “Right there Siri please!”
Sirius growled low in his throat. “Oh? There?” He pushed so deep your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. 
“Make my good girl cum, puppy.” Remus barked out, leaning in to swallow your moans.
“Yes, Sir.” 
Sirius pushed you further down with one hand between your shoulder blades and kept you there, adjusting his hips and oh. Hit punded your spot over and over again, his sweat dripping on your back as he fucked and fucked. 
“Is my beautiful girl gonna cum for her Remmy? Yes?”
You were gone at this point, babbling absolute nonsene as your desperately clawed at the sheets for some stability. 
“Cum, baby.”
You screamed out when your release hit you like a brick wall, your entire world turning white. Legs trembling, fingers shaking and your cunt clenched so tight Sirius was forced to stop moving. So full, you felt full to the brim. 
“Out, puppy.” Remus commanded and Sirius pulled out, sitting back on his knees, cock steadily leaking cum. Fuck, he had been so close. 
“Princess” Remus turned to you “Prepare our boy.”
You grinned and crawled over to the bedside table, pulling out a dildo. Sirius hated lube, the masochistic fucker said he loved the burn of the stretch. Remus sat down and pulled Sirius up until his back was resting against his chest and spread his legs, holding them up for you.
Remus kissed the side og his head and nipped at his ear harshly. “Don’t you dare cum, puppy.”
You pushed the dildo against Sirius lips and he spat on it, taking it in his mouth until it was completely wet. The dildo wasn’t exactly big, only a preperation before Remus fully stretched Sirius with his own cock.
You rubbed the tip against his tight hole and watched as he began to open up. Remus put his hands around his cock and bally, squeezing hard to keep him from cumming. Sirius let out a loud groand whe the tip slipped it, back arching with the delicious pain of the stretch. 
“You fucking slut” Remus mocked “Getting fucked with a fucking dildo like a whore. Thank her for pleasuring you!”
“Thank you!” Sirius cried out when you fucked him in a steady rhythm, the dildo gliding in with difficulty, making it feel oh so better.
You kissed his legs, biting at the flesh of his ass and went faster. You fucked him until his legs trembled and he couldn’t talk, before you ripped the dildo out. He chased you with his hips and begged shamelessly.
“Please no! Please Moony, please! I’m a good boy!”
Sirius was crying, his cock fucking hurt and his prostate throbbed with irritation of being yet again robbed from another orgasm. 
“Come here baby and wet my cock. Wanna fuck my little puppy.”
You took Remus in your mouth, suckling gently and wet him with your spit. He twitched at pulled away, too sensitive from watching you both the entire time without touching himself once. 
“Sit on his face.” Remus told you gently and you quickly straddled Sirius’ pretty face, effectively shutting him up by pressing your cunt on his mouth. Remus spit on Sirius’ hole, a degrading sight but Sirius relished in it, watching Remus push inside his tight clench.
Sirius nails scratched your thighs and he gladly tasted your pussy, his groans going straight to your clit. His tongue was everywhere, in your hole on your clit, sucking and slurping liek a starved animal. You were maoning loudly, your huips grinding on his face with sharp movements, hsi nose catching on your clit and making you cum for the second time. 
“Yes! Yes, lick it all up!” You cried out and gushed all over his mouth and Sirius whined, truly like a puppy, and lapped everything up diligently. You felt another pair of hands on your waist and Remus pulled you back, your tits pressed against Sirius chest and Remus fucked you.
Sirius was crying now, his third time being denied to cum, while you were getting your third in a row. 
“I can’t Remmy!” you shrieked “Please! Too much!”
Sirius and you were holding onto each other as Remus made a mess of you. He knew exactly what he was doing to reduce you to a blubbering mess. Giving Sirius nothing and you too much.
Sirius tugged you down to press a punishing kiss on your lips, angry that Remus treated you so gently and him like a slut. His teeth sunk into you bottom lip and you came again, falling against his chest. Remus growled and pulled out, jerking Sirius off in a fast pace and fucked into him deeply. With one hard thrust he came deep inside of Sirius, and Sirius shouted, voice raw as he finally came for the first time. His cum coated your fronts and Remus fucked his release inside of his tight clench, making it leak out from the sides.
“My precious loves” Remus cooed and kissed your cheeks. “So good f’me. Love you so much, c’mere.” 
Remus laid down in the middle, pulling you both to his chest and stroked your hair softly. You were a sticky mess, dried cum and sweat, but you didn’t care.
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pastelwitchling · 3 years
Text
Michael wants to know why Alex trusted Ramos.
Michael glanced over at Alex in the passenger seat, his chin rested on his palm. His lower lip was cut, his fingers and forearms were sliced into, there was a gash along his cheek, and a bruise just under one eye.
Michael’s hands tightened on the steering wheel the longer he looked at Alex, anger boiling just below the surface of his skin, mingling with an explosive power he was barely managing to keep at bay. They had just dropped Kyle off at the hospital with Liz after Alex had almost singlehandedly saved him from an impenetrable facility.
“I knew you’d be the one to save me,” Kyle had murmured with barely contained relief against Alex’s shoulder as he and Michael helped him into the car. Yet Alex had refused to get checked himself, explaining instead how he had been recruited into Deep Sky after Forrest had explicitly warned him against it.
“It was just something I had to do,” he’d said, and nothing else. Like Michael wasn’t worth the self-defense, the explanation. He’d been silent since, only speaking a few words of encouragement and comfort to Kyle as he’d left them, with an embrace and a promise to come back tomorrow to check in on him.
Alex sat still now, his brows pinched like he was studying a code that only he could see, his lips pursed, his free thumb scratching into his index finger. It was like he couldn’t even see Michael.
“You don’t have to worry,” Michael told him, if only to see his reaction. “Ramos is locked up in one of his own cells. We’ll get the Scooby gang together and figure out what to do with him tomorrow.”
Alex only hummed.
A moment, then, “You’ve been awfully quiet since we got Kyle to the hospital. You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Alex shut his eyes, like Michael’s voice bothered him. “Guerin, please,” he said, not without a little edge. “Just give me a minute.”
Michael nodded once, slowly, his jaw clenched. “Mmm.”
A minute turned into ten, when they finally pulled into Alex’s driveway and Alex went to open the door with a distracted “Thanks.” He pulled at the handle, and the door was locked. “Guerin, the door –”
“Yeah, I know,” Michael said, turning in his seat to face him. “Talk to me, Private.”
His shoulders slumped, exasperated. “Oh come on, not now.”
“Yes now,” he said with an edge of his own. “He was holding a gun to your chest. Now, Alex.”
“I’m fine,” Alex insisted, “and I don’t want to talk about it.” He tried the handle again, and again it wouldn’t give. “Open the damn door, Guerin!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael demanded. “And don’t give me the ‘secrecy is the price of admission’ crap that Long gave you. After everything, if you really think I’ll believe that some secret club rule would be enough to keep your mouth shut, then –”
“I get it, okay?” he snapped. “I was wrong, you were right. Again! Can you please just give it a rest?!”
Michael faltered, distracted, and Alex took the chance to open the car door. He stepped out, limping up to his porch and Michael followed.
“Hey!” he stormed after him and grabbed his arm, turning him around. “We’re not doing this,” he demanded, forcing his voice low but no less venomous. “You’re not running away from me just because it’s getting hard!”
“Don’t do that,” Alex said through grit teeth. “Don’t cling to the person I was when I was seventeen, Guerin! I’ve grown up, I’ve stuck around, you’re the one that chose someone else, so don’t blame me for who I was just because of your own guilt!”
He yanked his arm back and turned around. Michael followed him inside. “Why’d you trust him?” he demanded, his anger rising with something else, something pleading and desperate and raw. “Why’d you trust him?”
Why him and not me?
Alex had always managed to hear through his anger to the pain beneath, the hurt. This time, it seemed, he’d been wounded too deeply to see past his own misery.
“Fine!” he whipped around. “I get it, okay? I’m stupid, I’m stupid for trusting someone else that I shouldn’t have trusted! Flint, my dad, Forrest, Ramos – I’m an idiot! I should know better by now, but I guess I don’t!”
Michael watched, startled and hurt, as Alex paced his living room, his fists pressed to his temples. “He told me I wasn’t my father,” he rambled, looking for once in his life so lost that Michael didn’t know what to say or how to fix it. “He told me I was – I was different, that I was good, and I believed him, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry, okay? Kyle almost died because of me and you were in danger and I had to push you away, and I’m so, so sorry!”
“Hey, hey,” Michael pulled Alex in against him, but Alex was shaking. “Alex, c-calm down.”
Alex inhaled a shuddering breath, his body tense and his hands trembling on Michael’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his shirt desperately as if terrified that he would fall apart if he let go.
Then in a cracking voice, he whispered, “I just wanted a family that – that wanted me,” and any remnants of Michael’s anger and fear fell away at once. His eyes fell shut and he held Alex closer, putting a hand in his hair, his arm around his waist tight.
“Okay,” he murmured, and pressed his face to the crook of Alex’s neck. “Okay, Alex, it’s okay. Breathe.”
“I thought I was doing good,” Alex whimpered, and Michael felt tears against shoulder. His heart shattered and he held Alex tighter. “I thought I was better than them.”
“Shh,” Michael pressed a soft kiss to Alex’s neck, his shoulder. “Just breathe, baby. You’re safe now. I’m here, you’re safe.”
Alex pressed his trembling lips to Michael’s shoulder to still them, and Michael exhaled with an open mouth against Alex’s skin. He dug his fingers deeper into Alex’s hair, reveling in the soft strands between his fingers, assuring him that Alex was here, safe and sound, in his arms.
Michael held him as he silently cried, held him until exhaustion took over and he fell asleep on the couch, his head on Michael’s lap. Then Michael took to looking for the first aid kit and cleaning Alex’s wounds. A horrifying thought came as he carefully took care to his cuts and the gash in his cheek. That Alex had not wanted his injuries tended to because he wanted to feel the pain. Because he thought he’d deserved it.
Michael pushed the ugly thought aside and pressed a gentle kiss to Alex’s bruise before he laid a small bag of ice across it. Alex must’ve been far more exhausted than he let on because he only whimpered at the sting, but did not wake.
While Alex slept, Michael felt like he was on autopilot. He took off Alex’s prosthetic, pulled a blanket from a closet and covered him, and went to make a big lunch as he knew Alex had probably not eaten properly either in too long.
All the while, his mind replayed past conversations he’d had with Alex, things he’d said and done since Forrest had left town.
I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything. I just don’t want you anywhere near whatever it is I decide to do.
He hadn’t been able to understand what Alex had meant, why he was keeping the information to himself. Now he realized it was because he’d had his own suspicions all along. He’d discovered the person he trusted had betrayed him, and he hadn’t wanted Michael in any danger. He hadn’t wanted his own pain on display, not even to the man he loved.
So he’d fought the battle himself. Like always.
“You’re still here,” Alex’s brows were furrowed with something like surprise as he stood in the kitchen doorway, on his crutches.
Michael shrugged a shoulder and offered half a smile. “Food’s ready. Hungry?”
“Uh –” Alex started, but his growling stomach was answer enough. A small, genuine smile came to Michael’s lips and he held out a hand to help Alex sit down, but he was already taking a stool. He was good at proving that he didn’t need anyone.
Michael looked down a moment, then filled a bowl for him. He sat down next to Alex as he ate, watching the way he gulped down the soup in minutes, too hungry to do anything else. When he was done, Michael was already pushing his own bowl towards him.
“Thanks,” he murmured, grabbing another spoonful when Michael reached out and brushed his hair back behind his ear. Alex tensed.
His words still echoed in Michael’s ears above all else. I just wanted a family that wanted me.
Michael said, “I want you.”
Once again, Alex seemed to read his words for the truth they were. His shoulders slumped. “I know.”
He sniffled, “I’m so sick of you jumping into the line of fire for me.”
Ale sighed, like he’d been expecting this. He returned to his food. “I don’t mind.”
“You should.”
“It’s you,” he said roughly, as if that was reason enough to get himself shot at.
“I’m not special.”
“You are to me.”
“And you’re everything to me,” Michael argued. Alex seemed at a loss. “If anything ever happened to you . . .” He shook his head, unable to even finish the thought. “You said you’d burn the world down. I’d make it beg for the flames.”
Alex searched his face. He seemed to realize that Michael was more serious than he’d ever been before because he slowly took his hand and kissed his knuckles.
He held Michael’s gaze steadily, his dark eyes calming Michael’s racing heart like nothing else could. Now he was the one holding on as Michael fell apart. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Michael nodded, brushing Alex’s chin with his thumb. When he felt like he could speak again, he said, “Me, too.”
I finally got around to writing this! Yaaay!
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