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piratefishmama · 1 year

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Beware the Thorns

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

In many in journalistic circles, Eddie Munson, was Steve Harrington’s partner. The eye candy on his arm, cool, indifferent to everyone, he didn’t stray to the cameras for his five minutes of fame, he breezed by them as if he were just… better than them.

He was beautiful, skin like pale porcelain, dark curls full of lustre, and volume, dark doe eyes mysterious and inviting, broad shoulders, slender waist. His body only ever donned in the most expensive of dark fabrics, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dolce, nothing touched his skin but perfection.

To those who knew him better, he was Eddie Munson, professional escort, his services were expensive, he catered only to the rich, but he was good at his job.

Services included attending events, non-sexual but intimate bathing, the ‘boyfriend’ package, something Steve had been paying for, for ooooooh two years now? Long distance work, sex… sex was usually a given according to MOST people, and they did like to try and argue for it being included in the price of something basic, but Eddie charged more for it, and was often coy and promising enough to make them wait for him if he wanted to hold off.

And boy did he have them on a hook when he held off, the hunger to sink into his pert little ass keeping them paying, and paying, and paying for his time, for his presence on their arm. He was worth the wait, but he didn’t want to give in too fast, less they cut ties after getting what they wanted, they were his business, he had to keep them wanting.

He was a long game escort, he wasnt a wham bam ka-ching thank u ma’am/man kind of deal, wasnt a one and done sex worker. He put more time into it. He put serious effort into it. He was good at it.

He even had his own website.

Granted the website was listed as something else entirely so you had to know what you were looking for because wow, some of it was illegal, but word of mouth got him around more than enough to keep the lights on in his Indianapolis penthouse apartment, it was cosy, had everything he needed.

It helped that his clients were LOADED. One had to know where to go to get those big bucks, had to know which big fish to dangle the worm in front of.

He’d dangled that worm in front of Steve Harrington while on the arm of someone else, there were… rumours, of his sexuality floating about, stories from his high school years, that one gay bar he’d been spotted in with his friends, the way he’d touch pretty men, and look a little longer than necessary at things a straight boy shouldn’t be looking at while high as a kite.

He just hadn’t come out yet, at least, he hadn't until Eddie had been seen on his arm at a charity gala, having appeared to jump ship from the arm of the Hagan boy somewhere behind the scenes.

Nobody could get a word from the sole heir of the Hagan Hotel fortune as to what happened either, lips were zipped shut on the matter, he hadn't even tried to smear Eddie's name which some journalists found. Strange. Given Hagan's verbal evisceration of his previous exes.

Tommy wasn’t… bad, per-say.

He could be sweet when he wanted to be, but he rarely wanted to be. He was also overconfident, he lacked the ability to hold insults to himself, and had on more than one occasion called Eddie a useless whore in a fit of anger over some such nonsense.

So. Eddie cut those ties at the first big fish opportunity.

He was one of Eddie’s… longer lasting clients though, the half a year he spent seeing him regularly was… sometimes okay, the sex was fun, access to the good drugs was awesome since Hagan didn’t shy away from them, and he got paid nicely for his time, but he was glad he didn’t have to spend all his time with the man as an actual partner would have.

Probably would have strangled him by now.

Steve Harrington wasn’t like him though… Steve was his favourite client.

Eddie Munson had waltzed into Steve Harringtons life with all the ease and grace of a man who’d lived in wealth his entire life.

Like a rose he was beautiful, but hidden beneath the pretty petals there were thorns to consider.

He wasn’t truly his, and therein lay the thorns. He was paying for the privilege of his company, paying for him on his arm, paying for him to breeze by flashing cameras in fancy suits, paying for him to act the part of a loving, attentive boyfriend for the paparazzi trying to catch a glimpse of his love life.

It was easier to pay a professional, than allow a civilian into his life.

It was easier to bring Eddie home with him, watch him waltz around his living room in his tailored semi-sheer silk button-down shirt, tucked neatly into his black Gucci tux trousers, his blazer left draped over one of the chairs, it was easy watching him sway, the twinkle of his draping silver chain ear cuff catching the light from the lit lamps amidst beautiful dark curls, his slender hips swaying to the quiet music Steve had put on that evening after a long night of schmoozing with the press, with his peers.

People who probably knew who Eddie truly was, but… were tight-lipped enough not to spill the beans, because blowing that whistle would of course shine a spotlight on how they’d know.

It was safer for them to just smile and nod.

It was easy, joining him, slipping behind him, and pulling him close, ass to groin, trailing kiss after kiss down his warm, smooth neck, hands on his hips easing him back, into him, close to him in a slow, rhythmic grind of intent.

Easy to convey what he wanted to a professional, knowing he’d get it.

It was easy to lose himself in the idea that this man was his to take to bed, and because he wasn’t truly his, but an employee…

It was easy to let him go in the morning, his wallet some three grand lighter, depending on what they did the night before… it was easy… until it wasn’t easy anymore.

Until the brief press of lips to his forehead as he feigned sleep in the morning, and the soft rustle of his wallet being rifled through for the exact amount owed and nothing more, because he’d long since told Eddie where he kept it, and gave him permission to just take what was owed and go if he had to go.

Until all the things he’d found so easy about Eddie’s presence in his life… stopped being easy for his heart to ignore.

The soft press of lips to his brow in silent goodbye left him wanting nothing more than to pull his beautiful porcelain rose, thorns and all, back into bed and demand he stay just a few more hours, the feel of his body pressed close in the night, curled under the Egyptian cotton sheets with him, had him lying awake at night longing for the sun to take just a little longer to rise.

Eddie Munson wasn’t his. Not really.

And maybe, maybe he figured, as he slipped on a pair of dark leather gloves for his early Monday meeting, the touch of his hired lover still lingering on his skin, the bruising hickey the brunette had left during the night, before disappearing before dawn as he KNEW Steve had an early meeting, knuckles cracking as he flexed them within the reinforced gloves.

Maybe, he figured as the iron knuckles embedded in his gloves met the soft, weak, easily breakable jaw of the latest person to cross him and his business partners, the sickening crunch of bone breaking beneath skin...

Maybe Eddie not really being his was a good thing.

That didn’t stop him, or his heart, from wanting.

It being a good thing didn’t stop his hands from dialling those digits he’d long since memorised, he didn’t even need them saved in his contacts, he had them, the only number he’d ever memorized, he had it there by pure muscle memory. A number carved into his very soul.

Sometimes even if he wasn’t trying to call the brunette, his fingers would dial as if his heart had simply taken over his mind when it came to him. This time however, he purposefully dialled.

After cleaning his hands of the sickly, dark red that’d stained them, gotten under the fabric of his gloves and ruined them, he dialled, knowing that when his addiction answered, and he always answered… everything would feel okay again.

The racing of his heart would slow, calm would wash over him like waves slowing their turbulent rolls after a storm had passed.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite person in the whole wide world~” his voice thick and throaty, he always sounded so fucked out when he answered the phone, like the strongest whiskey mixed with the finest of honey. Steve knew this wasn’t a greeting purely for him, Eddie didn’t save numbers, he didn’t to keep his clients safe in case the police got hold of his phone, and he sure as fuck didn’t speak like that in private, he’d heard Eddie in private…

Heard him when the brunette didn’t think he could hear, when he thought Steve to still be in the shower, he was on the phone to someone, probably a friend, who Steve didn’t know but definitely not a client, Eddie always sounded different when speaking to a client… somewhere deep down… Steve almost wished he had that relationship with him instead. Almost.

He did wished he could see the real him, hear the real him instead of this imposter, instead of the façade he put on, it worked for him, fuck did it work, he could fuck his own fist for hours just listening to that voice, but… he wanted more, he’d wanted more for some time.

But he’d take what he could get. If all Eddie would give him were an imposter, then… an imposter he’d take. It wasn’t as though Steve were being truly honest about himself either.

Thorns. So many little thorns.

“Flatterer” he hummed, earning a deep laugh from the speaker that had his heart thump against his ribcage, fuck, he didn’t deserve that laugh, didn’t deserve the warmth it filled him with, a man lay broken not far from his feet, blood pooled around his head, barely alive, he didn’t deserve the warmth Eddie gave him.

But he’d greedily soak what was offered up.

Eddie didn’t seem surprised it was him either, which was nice, it made his greeting seem all the more real, he just… adapted, quick as lightning “as if you don’t deserve it, are you gonna be home tonight, baby?” Deep down he knew this wasn’t Eddie… deep down there was a fiery, excitable, loud, nerdy man hidden beneath the surface probably cringing at the tone of voice being used, but it was what he was allowed to hear, it was all Eddie was willing to share with him, and that was okay.

In every part of his life, he was in control, he could have what he wanted, get what he demanded… but with Eddie… he got what he was given, and he was happy for it.

“I should be home by eight…”

“Ugh good… I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” Whether it was the truth or not Steve never knew, he liked to believe it was, he liked to think his addiction missed him as much as he missed his addiction while he was away “what do you want for dinner?” He smiled against the phone, silent for a moment as he basked in the domesticity of it all, how easily Eddie made him just… BELIEVE that he was a sweet housewife, ready to tend to his every need “… baby?”

“Just thinking… you know I love everything you cook, so many options…” Eddie was incredible at everything, he used a knife better than some of his most skilled bodyguards, men who’d trained with a bladed weapon for most of their lives, he had two ex-black ops on his staff and neither of them could handle a knife quite like him, of course comparing them wasn’t exactly fair, one used it to fillet fish and cut vegetables, the others… cut into other things.

He liked Eddie’s use of them far more than the other.

“Want me to surprise you?” He liked giving Eddie creative freedom, liked it far more than when he told him what to do, telling him… didn’t always get the best results, Eddie liked his freedom to create far too much, surprises tended to feel more… personal, tailored to what he thought Steve might like.

“Please, I could never choose, it’s all so good” another laugh, softer, it sounded so real… so honest, a spell he dare not break by saying the wrong thing, tearing into the space they created together, the fantasy life together by insinuating that this wasn’t the norm… that he couldn’t always have Eddie making his dinner like he longed for.

“Have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you when you get home…” he was doing something, couldn’t stay on the call, was he with someone else? No… he’d never answer if he was with someone else, the thought made him grip the phone tighter though, jealousy coursing through him at the mere idea that someone else could be occupying his time… stealing his attention away. “Love you, baby” it wasn’t real, just a fantasy.

It still made all his fears, all his worries vanish, pop like bubbles, washed away by the torrent of warmth that flooded him with those simple words.

“Love you too” he only wished Eddie’s words were as real as his own.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #BewareTheThornsFiclet #No Upside Down AU #Steddie #Escort!Eddie #Shady!Steve

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leeknowsintrusivethots · 10 days

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A Stray Concubine

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Pairings: Prince!Lee Know/You, Prince!Bangchan/You, RivalNoble!Hyunjin/You? We are all about possibility here. Summary: Entering into a harem choosing was something you have been groomed for since you were young. Your aim is to make Crown Prince Christopher fall at your heels in order to restore your ruined family name and fortune, but games of love are much harder than games of lies and deceit. Content: Angst (is it me if it's not?), slow burn, smut(warnings below when applicable), fictional historical universe, dark themes, second person perspective, historical-typical gender roles, imperial harem-inspired concubine system, multi-pov, lotsa plot/world building, political intrigue WC: 5246 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites.

Taglist: @blondechannie @torialefay

Notes: Things got out of hand. Side note, our main character now has a last name to avoid the excessive use of 'Y/N.'

You

“I’ve heard the young Lord Hwang is here in the Capital for the festivities.”

“I do wonder what the the Lord is up to now. 'Twas a nasty business with his parents' death and all.”

A flutter of feminine words carried by the cool breeze of dusk. They were as hollow as the chirping of birds, but with the weight of lords clanging swords.

“I suppose that's why he's here,” the middle aged gentleman said conspiratorially to his companion. He was dressed in the fine, rich fabrics of the upper class, but his dress did not hide the lascivious glances he would steal at the young woman he spoke to.

It was another lesson you had learned: social standing was meaningless when it came to the lustful notions of men. It didn't matter King, priest or commoner; all men floundered their morals when presented with something pretty dressed in silks. This gentleman was no different.

“It's such a shame to have felt such tragedy so young,” the woman said softly. It was another flutter, a fine beating of appropriate sympathy and poise. Whatever lot she had hailed from, she had been trained well.

“Oh,” the gentleman intoned with a glance around him. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. He scanned the ladies and lords who conversed and drank around him quickly before his eyes settled. He was looking directly at you.

You had been wandering through the throngs, seeing and being seen for most of the festivities. You had to ensure you played your part of a well-bred lady making connections. It also served to listen; gauging the mood of the nobles who inhabited the palace alongside the royal residents. You had expected attention, but none so blatant.

“But I do hear the daughter of the Wicked Witch of House Sterling is in attendance,” the man stated, loudly enough for his feminine companion, you, and everyone within the breadth of the long table he occupied to hear. Lords and ladies alike recoiled as if hit. Some laughed with unease, but most seemed unsettled by the reminder of years past.

“My Lord,” she exclaimed with exaggerated scandal covering her classically attractive features. She fanned herself as if the wave of her hand could rid her of the shock of his statement. “Is it true?”

“It is, my dear. They say The Witch and her daughter ensorcel men with the bat of their lashes, and use their livelihood to keep themselves young and beautiful. I fear for the young bucks of the court.”

The woman saw her cue, and like any well trained woman – she took it. She leaned in with the bat of her own lashes to whisper into the man's ear. At her attention, his own wandered from you back to her and her hands on his weak shoulders. She pulled back just far enough to wink directly at you. She was playing the game, and she was playing it well.

Grateful for her intervention, you gathered your skirts loosely in hand and set off through the crowds.

The banquet hall of the palace was large enough to house the entirety of the nobles in the realm and most of their major retainers as well. It was a grand structure with elegance and richness built into the very walls. Tapestries with the heraldry of the Bangs hung from every beam and nook— The yellow eyes of the black and white wolf following all those who dared their presence with a sly keenness.

The women who made up the King's Harem had their own heraldry, passed down from the families they hailed from and kept if only as a token of fondness from their lives before. They were not permitted to hang in places of state, nor were they permitted to even be within eyesight of the Wolf. It was a threat to their power to place such importance on lower houses, and could be seen as an act of treason to even suggest such.

It was a shame. The banners of houses Seo and Yang in particular were vibrant and colorful. They would have brought life to the white, gray and black of House Bang but nothing could overshadow the crowned wolves.

Your thoughts of banners and symbols were a distraction from what you planned. The beating of your heart had its own flutter, one far less beautiful and flattering than the woman from earlier. It's crescendo sped as you stepped into the line of courtiers that neatly led up to the dais where the royal family sat like pretty paintings. The line moved, but painstakingly slow. It inched forward like the crawling of a slug after a hard rain, and you could only wish someone would salt you and be done with it.

Those in front and behind you chatted and carried about merrily as they waited their turn. They were of two sorts: simple creatures who had neither hide nor hair in the affairs of court or sordid schemers whose flattery and lies were concealed enough to be on the winning end. They had no fears of how their presence would be received by the rulers of their realm. They were safe, while your head was already placed on the metaphorical chopping block.

Your only hope at calm were the banners.

Every time the herald at the head of the procession called out names and titles, you brought their banners to mind. House Jeon, Lords of the Anpanman Woods: a wooded forest with an archer riding atop a monstrous hare at its forefront. House Wang, Wardens of the Southern Border: a thin sword with a snarling hound’s head as the pommel. House Kwon, Protectors of the Treasures of the East Sea: an extravagantly colorful sea dragon dripping in molten gold as it ascends from a deep blue ocean. House Min, Keepers of the Western Jungles: a rare, white tiger stalking amongst a dark green growth.

Every Great Lord was in attendance with their minor counterparts, and every one of them had their proud banners and symbols with deep rooted history and lore. You had been taught all of them by your tutors in your childhood, growing up with stories of their conquests and lineages.

You remembered that House Jeon was one of the youngest of the great houses, rising to power by claiming the timber bounty of their woods. House Wang was older and more storied, a history of mismatched allegiances with the King across the wastes and ancient claims to the Crown of Miroh. House Kwon was even older and as powerful as it was queer: Sea Lords with ties to the Free Isles in the West. House Min was the most shrouded. They were covered in the mythos of legends, with fact and fiction blurring reality.

“Lord Hyunjin, of House Hwang, Keepers of the Heartlands,” the Herald called. Their banners depict a common ferret curling around a brilliant sapphire. They were upstarts who had risen with the Bang's rule; they were no friends of you or yours.

You watched as the handsome Lord smiled and jested with the Royals, even with stern King Bang himself. He seemed to pay close attention to the Princes’ Christopher and Felix. It would not do to dwell, but you noted his connections with a keen interest.

The Hwang's had been close to the crown for more than two centuries, since the House Bang had risen from their ancestral home of the Forded Rivers to claim the throne through blood and war. The Hwang's had been Champions of the cause, steadfast allies of the offensive in the Red Rebellion . Their loyalty had not been forgotten and their rise had been meteoric and quick compared to the lengthy reigns of other Great Houses. In a matter of a few generations, they had risen from titles minor landholders to a major power in the politics of the realm. You had no doubt that Lord Hwang sought even more favors with the friendships he curried with the Princes.

As you continued your wait, you watched the man in question lobby about. He was tall, but graceful and as elegant as any old house could be. Even as he spoke to fellow couriers, he was refined but approachable in a way that most were not. He smiled coyly at another courtier before his eyes met yours and his lips fell flat. You averted your gaze quickly, your mind faltering. You had not killed Princess Mai, but his stare suggested otherwise.

“Young Lady Sterling,” was all you received from the Herald when your time came. There were no titles, no honors, no places of power. All you had was a family name that was dying, connected to a murderous traitor.

Relying on your training in graces and decorum, you dropped to your knees and bowed to the family who ruled the lands you called home and recited words from a distant memory. “Of bravery and courage, of rule and might; blessed and long be your reign.”

“You may rise,” King Bang commanded.

And so you rose to regard the man who condemned your father to death.

He sat in the middle of the dais with his queen to his right and his Most Favored, Beauty Lee, to his left. She was as resplendent as ever in expensive silks with her hair coiffed into the most stylish fashion with a pleasant smile curving her rouged lips. The queen was more somber. She wore the dark purple hues of royalty, and kept a regality that was unapproachable to say the least. She regarded you coolly, but you could see the hostility in her eyes. Princess Mai had been her natural daughter.

“You certainly favor your mother,” King Bang commented gruffly. It was not an exclamation of emotion, it was a simple observation.

“I’m pleased to hear I have my mother's charms, Your Majesty,” you replied with eloquence. You spoke softly, keeping a demure coyness about yourself that you had honed to a fine art.

“She was always a welcome sight,” the King added. Courtly arrogance mixed with courtly love. He too was playing the game. He blessed you with a smile that had the scar at the corner of his mouth standing to prominence before posing a question that had you caught off guard. “Which one of my sons is it then?”

“I'm sorry your majesty, I don't–”

“Is it the laughing and fierce Prince Jeongin? Or mayhaps the shy and courtly Prince Jisung? Or do you prefer the bold and strong Prince Changbin?”

“I–”

“Or perhaps your mother plans to aim higher?” He barreled along, his words never losing the flirting intrigue of courtly love but gaining the edge of a longsword. He glanced down the table of the dais, past his queen and to the silver crown threaded with dark iron wolves that sat atop Price Christopher’s head. He made no comment, but he did give you a look akin to pity. You hated it that look and everything it stood for.

“Your Majesty,” you spoke, inflicting an intentional waver to your voice and forcing your eyes to water with tears. It was not hard to fein being the weak, scared girl that King Bang required of you. “I would never dare to presume any grand intentions. I a humble servant of the crown, and I will do whatever you require to earn your love back for the House Sterling.”

“I owe no love to your family, young lady, and I never intend to. House Sterling is dying, and I will not save the family of Traitors. It's only by the good graces of your Mother that you both were not banished across the northern border.” The edge was dulling. One flutter. Two flutters. A few more until it wouldn't even be able to cut butter.

“My mother has retaken her maiden name, returning to the mantle of the Jeons. I have no such luxury, Your Majesty. I will forever be cursed by the sins of my father, but I will forever work to make amends.” A flutter of a sweet song. Honeyed with the naivety of a girl, and blessed to come from pretty lips. The blade was dulled, but you were set on making it crumble to iron dust.

“And how would you do that?”

“Put me to work, Your Majesty. I will slave as a Maid until I earn your love, or my death.”

A rumble went up behind you at your proclamation. You paid them no mind. Your attention was on the King.

He's the king of a realm. Make him feel like the King of the world. The only man within your sights. The highest of them all– a God.

“The youngest of the formerly Great House Sterling content to scrub floors and empty chamber pots?”

“My House’s pride is nothing to me. I serve the crown before all others. My duty is to to realm, Your Majesty– to you.” You dropped to your knees to peform the formal bow again. It was a sign of respect, a sign of your servitude.

“You may outdo your mother's charms yet,” the King remarked with a hidden smile playing in the shadows his golden, heavily bejewelled crown cast upon his face. “I will discuss your plight with my Councilors, Lady Sterling. Until a decision is made, you are welcome to feast and revel in the glory of the Royal Court.”

“You are most kind and just, Your Majesty.” You stood from the ground with the help of the Herald. He touched you delicately and respectfully as the flutters stirred up the dust of iron. You had won. It was a small victory, the first of many, but it was still a victory.

In the haze of the glittering particles, the court watched.

Beauty Lee regarded you with renewed interest. Queen Bang was stony, her murderous eyes portraying her displeasure but no words leaving her pursed lips. The Princes all watched with varying levels of interest in their Father's affairs, but the only one whom mattered still looked at you with pity.

It stoked your anger. You were a daughter of the Great Sterlings, former Wardens of the war torn Northern Borders. Your family was fierce and proud, tempered by the harsh climate and the even harsher hands of the war torn barbarians. You had the blood of warlords, conquers, and leaders. You may strip your pride to appease the King, but it would always be in your heart. You hated the Princes' pity, but you could use it in the same way you used the King's fondness for beautiful damsels.

His son would be no different. He would fall at your feet, ready to restore you and your family for no other reason than the love of being a hero for a the songs of singers across the continent. It was as simple as playing him like the harp you spent so many hours practicing. His tune would be notes of restoration and riches.

“Lady Sterling!” A boy called as you made for the Hall’s exit for a breath of fresh air and to revel in your victory. He was young, freshed faced with the hint of acne playing across his forehead. He dressed in the livery of House Wang: the metallic glint of iron present on all the accents of his dark clothing. He bowed politely before handing you a scratch of gray fabric.

It was rimmed with shiny silver thread and had intricate wolves with gems inlaid into the fabric for eyes at all four corners. The initials LMH elegantly scrawled along the center in delicate lines and swirls.

It was a royal favor, but not the one you had desired.

Christopher

To the great ire of their father, Minho had refused his place on the dais.

The refusal had led to a screaming match that could be heard in the next wing. The roars of his brother and father filled the halls with curses and anger. It only worsened when Minho refused to attend the festivities all together. King Bang had threatened to have him whipped, to which Minho had laughed maniacally and downed the rest of the fire whiskey he insisted on having on hand with his father.

“Do it! I've learned well how to bear pain, Father,” Minho screamed in rage at the threat.

Christopher wasn't certain on what lengths King Bang would have gone had he not stepped in with a sobbing Beauty Lee at his heels. He wasn't even certain on which had calmed the King; his intervention and promises to handle his wayward brother or the tears drenching Beauty Lee's silks. Either way, he had relented and Minho had avoided the whip.

It was the beginning of a deadly dance. He would have to balance the both of them: his father's hot headed rages, and his brother’s own uncontrolled hatred. The price of losing would not be a simple sore foot. A wrong step could ripple across the floor and disrupt the entire performance; sending everyone toppling to their dooms.

“That was the murderer?” Changbin asked from his side. The third prince had been too preoccupied with his food and the ladies milling about to pay much attention to the King's audiences. He had only taken note when the girl had fallen to her knees to prostrate herself in desperation.

“She's no murderer,” Christopher chided.

“Did her family kill our sister or not, Chris?” Changbin countered with annoyance. Anger simmered just under the surface. Princess Mai was a sore topic even so many years later.

“They did. She did not. She was just a kid when it happened.” They had all been young then. A child's blissful ignorance was no place for the blame of their parents’ faults. All of the Princes' should know that, but Christopher knew it most.

“Mai was just a kid, too. An innocent, sweet, lively and damn charming kid. Had she lived, I would probably be in debt for sweets and dresses. I would have been a beggar proudly for our baby sister, yet you take up in defense for the blood of her murderer?”

“I miss Mai as much as you do, more even, but her murderer was executed. There's nothing else for us to do,” Christopher shot back. He was feeling his own anger rise. There were few things that he wouldn't do for his family, his siblings. Changing the past was not within his realm of capabilities.

“Are you truly that much of a fool?” Changbin asked incredulously. His anger was still held tightly in check.

“Is it foolishness to allow a person to pave their own path?” Christopher returned. He lacked the heat of his younger brother. He could never be mad at any of the boys who shared his blood. They were all young, still finding their way into manhood and rule with the black and white lens of good and evil. If only the world were so simply colored.

“It's foolishness that could end in an early grave.”

It was not Changbin who answered. The voice was feminine, but hard. It was the voice of a woman who had seen too much, been forced to harden her edges at the behest of those in power around her.

Queen Bang regarded her natural son and his brother with a stern stare. The panes of her face were sharp, severe even. Hers was a beauty that didn't often mesh with the other ladies of the palace. It was refined but not delicate; the type of face that would strike fear in a man's heart as much as lust. It had both Christopher and Changbin sealing their lips tight to stave off any protest that bubbled.

“This is not appropriate banquet conversation,” she stated with a final withering stare before turning her attention back to the audiences entertaining the King. He was deep in conversation with a Captain from the Free Isles about some strange sea beast that had been spotted. From the look of the table, he was also deep in his cups as he boasted about hunts from his youth of beasts of yore.

Taking the reprieve, Christopher searched the room for Minho. He had promised he would at least be present, wandering the room discreetly so as not to raise gossip about the Second Prince being excluded from the dais. He was to have his first pick of any Lady that caught his eye, and he had only to choose one– one gentlelady to give his father the illusion that the wayward Prince had been subdued into court life.

Of course, Minho had to make even a simple task an effort in patience and persistence.

However, Christopher could not have patience. It went against everything he knew and everything he was, but he had to act. There was no room for error, nor weakness in the Court of Miroh.

At a look, the page was running towards him. He was well dressed in the colors of his Liege, the fabric glinting in the light like polished iron. With a well placed command and Changbin watching curiously, the boy took off with quick feet and vigor for a promised knighthood.

A future King had to be a man of action.

Minho

The palace library was a place of wonder for any intrepid mind. It was filled with the works of great scholars and war strategists renowned for their taciturn. Works from all across the world, they told of histories, battles, and gentleman's philosophy. It was all knowledge that any young man should know, approved by the crown and kept up by an army of ever present eunuchs who dusted the shelves and kept the sight fit for royalty.

Tomes upon tomes of knowledge lined the high walls with ladders placed at intervals to reach the topmost shelves. The tops of the ladders ended in marbled ceilings that supported the second floor balcony. It was a wide open walkway lined with yet more books that opened up to show the floor below.

Minho had spent a lot of his youth in the brightly lit rotunda. He studied with his appointed tutors, absorbing the knowledge a spare must have like a sponge desperate for hydration. Even when the old men would give him leave, he would stay. Day would turn to dusk as he poured over the words of wise men.

But Minho had learned what the library could teach him. When he had reached out for more, he had been denied. The Library eunuchs had told him that they held all the knowledge in the world in their shelves. His tutors had brushed off his queries with well mannered hands. His father had outright scoffed and berated him to work harder at his swordsmanship instead of wasting his time with yet more books.

Desperate for more, Minho had sought knowledge through travel.

His early years had seen him guesting the courts of Great and Lesser Lords, browsing their own shelves for things he had yet to learn. Each time, he was disappointed. Each time, he moved on with more vigor. It wasn't until his desperation took him to the city taverns, art houses, and lone monasteries in tall, reclusive mountains that he learned the greatest lesson of his life: through understanding of life could never be found until one experienced the people of the world itself.

He had come to hate the palace library, disdaining the time he had wasted learning what was deemed appropriate for a Prince. It was unfortunate that it was an excellent place to find a quiet and unassuming corner with few ears that listened. It was even more deserted with the Selection happening. No Lords browsed the shelves, and few eunuchs were on duty.

“How have you been, old friend?” Hwang Hyunjin asked as he slid into the seat next to Minho. They were cushioned and pushed into an empty corner, meant for spending hours reading.

“Better,” Minho answered. The table between them held a silvered platter complete with three tumblers and a decanter of liquor. He poured them both a drink and took a healthy swallow of his own.

“Does the idea of Miroh court life distress you so much?”

“As much as having my manhood chopped off,” he answered wryly.

“I'm sure our glorious King would love to have that arranged if you don't fall in line,” Jackson Wang joked as he took a third seat. He squeezed in next to Hyunjin, the table separating the Prince from his guests.

“Yes. He would,” Minho agreed grimly. Another sip of the liquor had fire burning in his throat. He poured some for the new arrival in the empty glass.

“It needs not be that way,” Hyunjin stated. “It's as simple as doing what he asks.”

“I will not, and I'm surprised you would even suggest such.”

Minho had spent time with almost all the Lords of Miroh. He had supped in their dining halls, listened in on their councils, advocated for reform favoring the small folk with what attention he curried. He was familiar with them all, but none more so than Lords Wang and Hwang. They were as close to him as his own brothers. They knew his views and he knew theirs.

“We have discussed this before. If you want to seek change, you have to be in a position to do so,” Jackson said. He picked up his tumbler and sniffed the liquid indulgently before taking a healthy swallow.

“And it shall not be by so blatantly ignoring your father's wishes,” Hyunjin added. His own glass remained untouched.

“You wish me to abandon everything I believe and play the part?” Minho was annoyed, but not surprised. This was a normal point of contention in the trio.

“Jackson controls the Southern Border. I have dominion over most of the Midland Plains. We have influence, but with a Prince advocating to our ends, we could scarcely be denied”, Hyunjin said, passion deepening with every word. It was the same old conversation, but never had he pushed so blatantly. Minho's return to Court seemed to heighten his resolve.

“We could not risk altering the realm within a fortnight. We have to play the long Game. Even revealing our cards too soon could lose us royal favor, and power. Your father is not so inclined to a liberal nature,” Jackson added. He had abandoned his seat all together, glass of liquor in hand.

“The long game is waiting until Christopher is crow–”

“Your brother is a strong and moral Prince, but he is a traditionalist. Even in him, you will not find the ally you think,” Hyunjin cut off Minho's protest.

“If you are suggesting we overthrow my brother, you won't have to deal with my father. I'll have your head of my own accord,” Minho spat, sudden anger getting the best of him. His brother's all had their faults, but he would forever be loyal to them.

“We would never suggest such a thing, but he will need the right people around him when he ascends. The current Council, baring myself and Lord Wang, are all bootlicking yes-men with traditionalist loyalties. They would see the same wars and the same laws in place for eternity,” Hyunjin countered.

“Ah, the Late Lord Jeon’s writ on the rights of a nobleman. What a crock of shit,” Jackson hummed as he browsed the shelves. He was sipping his liquor as Minho and Hyunjin spoke, browsing through the tomes on the shelves next to their group as he did. Even though he didn't seem too invested, Minho knew it would be unwise to think so.

The Wang were an old name and had ancestral rights to the Southern Border. Across that border, was an endless stretch of desert ruled by a King shunned and forgotten by all except the Wang’s. It was said the family's outlandish politics were an extension of that King's will, and the Wang's did not hide it. If anything, they flaunted it and were the only Great House to push for liberal reform– at least with any visibility.

“He needs you to be his right hand, but the other Lords would never accept you as you are now,” Hyunjin advised, ignoring his friend's outburst.

“What our ever so serious Hyunjin is suggesting is a mummers’ farce. Do your father's bidding where the world can see, while playing your hand behind the scenes,” Jackson said, still making the odd disproving noise as he browsed the books written by less inclined individuals. “It's not ideal, but it's become necessity.”

Minho did not like anything that was being said.

He had spent his whole life concentrating on the belief that rule and power could never end without corruption. It didn't matter how just and moral you were, the reigns of an entire people would callous and blacken your beliefs until your life revolved around cowing populations into submission with the threat of a sword. That was simply how human nature worked.

His beliefs had not come without cause.

The Red Rebellions had torn the realm asunder. It had been all in the name of ridding themselves of a tyrant King Kim. When the Bang's had won, the Kingdom entered a golden age. Arts and philosophy flourished and laws changed to usher in a new world for the people of the time, but history had proven to be cyclic. Even being his own family, Minho could not deny that the reign of the Bang family was heading in the direction of the Kim’s.

His only consolation had been Christopher. He was a just and upright man, but he had been raised to rule under the constant traditionally forged sword of their father. He had never seen the world outside of the Capital, and likely never would.

He would never see the villages in the dense Jungles of the West. The deeper you went into the verdant green, the more sparse populations got until civilization gave way to angry wildness that had retaken abandoned towns; their peoples forever lost to disease. Many still living remained under constant quarantine, never able to leave their homes for fear of spreading illness and death by the swords of those who held them there. They would not be helped. They would die and be forgotten like the others.

He would never know the desperation of the poachers in the Anpanman Woods. They were injured soldiers who had served the realm only to be discarded when they were no longer of use. They were green boys who were forced to support their families. They were the downtrodden no one cared for until they stepped on the toes of a Lord.

He would never see the sorrow of the wives of the Eastern Coast. Their husbands left them with babes still at the breast to mine gold in the crown controlled Free Isles. For the cost of the Crown's coffers, a lot of them would perish at sea or in the mines. They would never see their children grow.

Christopher would have to connect with his people. He would have to live amongst them to remember that it was not a Nation he ruled, but living humans with lives and stories of their own. Forgetting that was often the fall of a good King. He could not forget. Minho would not let him.

“Give me a script and dress me in motley, damnit.”

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celticcrossanon · 3 months

Text

BRF Reading - 2nd of February, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 2nd of February, 2024

Question: Will Harry be moved from the royal family website in the next three months?

Interpretation: At his point, it looks likely

Card One: The Three of Swords.

This is a card of pain, heartbreak, despair. suffering. There is a lot of pain in the future. This could happen in various ways - Harry could do something that is even worse than he has already done, it could hurt King Charles to take him off the website, Harry could feel hurt at being removed from the website. Any or all of the above are possible. I'm not getting any sense of who this pain is from or who feels it, the energy is simply of pain and heartbreak in the not-to-distant future.

Clarifier: The Eight of Cups. This is a card of walking away from a situation that causes you pain/grief/suffering. It is also one of my death cards, as it shows a descent into the underworld.

I think that after his procedure, King Charles will find that he hasn't got the strength to deal with Harry and Meghan, and he walks away from the situation, either by handing it over to Prince William to deal with or by doing whatever his advisors/his wife thinks is best - a 'tell me what to do and I will do it' attitude. The pain of dealing with his errant son is going to be too much for him to cope with, so he is going to respond by abandoning his responsibility and walking away. He will let other people deal with the matter.

Card Two: The Page of Pentacles.

This is the card of an earth sign child, and/or a message about money/status/material things, and it is also my card for the UK as a country. There are two energies from this card. The first is that of the will of the people in the UK, who want Harry off the website and stripped of his titles. This is a pressure that is on King Charles and I believe he is aware of it. The second energy is that of a message being sent with an Earth sign child, Harry is the earth sign child, so either he sends a message to his father and is taken off the website as a result, or he is taken off the website as a warning to him over his behaviour.

Clarifier: The Wheel of Fortune in reverse. This is an indication that someone's fortunes are going to take a downwards turn. I believe that this applies to Harry, that his reputation is going to decline even further, and part of that could very well be his removal from the website.

Card Three: The Lovers

The Lovers is a card about choices, particularly choices in relationships and partnerships, especially romantic relationships. It is upright, so this is not about a split in relationships.

The energy coming through here is that of choices. Someone is going to have to make a choice; they can't continue to try and balance things. I think that Harry is going to have to choose between his wife and his status as a prince of the UK, and King Charles is going to have to choose between his care for his son and the demands of his role as monarch, i.e. protecting the BRF and possibly the UK from further reputational harm.

The Lovers is the card of Gemini, and Gemini is a duality. Again, this says to me a choice between two things - Harry/King Charles can no longer go on having both things at once, a decision has to be made to draw closer to one and further away from the other.

Depending on what choices Harry and King Charles make, there is a slim possibility of a reconciliation and Harry being back on the website, or never removed from it at all.

Clarifier: The Queen of Cups in reverse.

This is the card for Cancer, and we have three Cancerians in the BRF - Queen Camilla, Prince William, and Prince George. The Queen of Cups can be the card of the mother, and Princess Diana was also a Cancerian.

The energy of this card is that something is going to happen that centres around one of the four people above, and it will be so bad that King Charles will have to make a choice - he will not be able to put it off any longer. I think it will be something around Princess Diana, but I am not 100% certain. I am getting Princess Diana energy from the card, so it could be her.

The other things that may happen is something about the Harkle children, as this is the card of the mother in reverse. Maybe Meghan will be proven not to be their mother, or something like that. That feels more like an energy that will feed into and overshadow this decision about the website, but not the main reason for it.

Underlying Energy: The Four of Swords

This is a card of rest, retreat, retirement from something. It is also a card of having a damaged reputation and retiring to lick your wounds. It can also be a death card. The three of swords in the main reading moves to the four of swords, the underlying energy.

The energy of this card is of retirement, which makes me think that Harry (and Meghan) are going to be 'retired' from the royal website, either because of the damage they have caused to the BRF, or because they do something so awful that it is impossible to keep them on the website, or both.

Conclusion:

The strongest energy from this reading is the first card, the Three of Swords. Unless something changes the energy flows, there is some sort of heartbreak coming up either for Harry, the BRF, or both in the next three months.

I have to mention here that there was quite a bit of death energy in this reading. The Three of Swords can be a death card, as can the Eight of Cups and the Four of Swords. I'm mot getting any warnings of a person dying, which means either it is not a person dying or I'm not allowed to receive advanced warning of a death. I do think that something will end, but I'm not sure what, and that ending might be Harry off the website or the catalyst for that action.

That Three of Swords heartbreak will be the catalyst for sending a message to Harry about his status, which could very well be his retirement from the royal website because of his damaged reputation. Depending on how The Lovers card plays out in real life, he will remain off the website or he will be restored to it.

The decision to remove Harry from the website or not is all about reputation - both his own and the damage he has caused the BRF.

Given the underlying energy, I think that Harry will be removed from the royal family website in the next three months.

The energy from this reading gets weaker as the cards progress. Underlying concern about Harry's reputation and the damage he is going to the BRF - yes. This concern fuelling discussion about removing Harry from the website - yes. Some sort of extreme nastiness and pain in the near future - definite yes. Paying attention to what the people want - maybe. Removing Harry from the website as a message to him over his status - this is a stronger maybe, very close to a yes. Keeping him off the website permanently - this is where things get wispy and unclear. I think that depends on how future events unfold.

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goldengirlls · 2 years

Text

possesive

warnings: 18 + innocence kink + age gap (readers in her 20’s, rafe’s in his 40’s!!) + breeding kink + slight dom and submissive behavior always + bowtie kink

summary: the internet a dangerous place.

a/n: first part of dirty little secret!!! two things — don’t be a dick + show her lots of love!!! shes also slightly unedited so sorry for any errors !!!!

series master list

playlist

It was like a lion stalking its prey, stealthy and quiet.

“This dress is doing many things to me, Beautiful.” The husky voice spoke, hand wrapping around your waist, possessively. “It’s taking everything in me to behave myself.”

He wasn’t supposed to feel these things about you, especially someone your age. He was in his forties - never married, no kids, zero responsibilities except for running his fortune 500 company. He was working late one night, desperate to get off. Porn wasn’t an option. It was beyond scripted for his liking, so when someone had mentioned only fans it peaked his interest. That was until he had stumbled upon your account one night.

What he didn’t know at the time was she could see the members. He wanted more, so he started paying for the exclusive content you put out. He didn’t care about the extra money. All he knew is he craved you morning, day and night. Some call it a coincidence, he however saw it as fate. A crisp Thursday night at one of his favorite bars. He just knew he had to have you, so he bought you a drink. The rest being history.

He had to have you.

“Can’t wait to take you home and fuck you senseless.” A warm kiss being placed below your ear. His fingers tighten on your warm skin as you lean closer into his embrace.

“Bend you over on any surface and take you over and over again. Sink my teeth into your tan skin. Lick everywhere and anywhere I want.”

The more his husky voice spoke about the horrible things he had planned the wetter you got. He didn’t seem to miss the way your legs crossed over one another - he needed to have his head buried between them, as your legs dangled behind him, as you begged him to stop.

Finally having enough, you lean in closer to him, “These are for you. Say bye to everyone and come up to our room. I’ll be waiting.” You placed an item in his free black pocket, placed a kiss on his cheek and made your way up stairs.

His favorite pair. Your white lace thong. He had gifted many things throughout the relationship - this however was part of his favorite set he had bought you.

You were his desire. The things he did to you would make you burn into flames if you walked into a church. The things on porn websites that makes a person question what the fuck. He was beyond fucked. Somewhere in the midst of your secret relationship he had fallen hard for the woman that was twenty years and then a few younger than him.

“Fuck. Good girl.” He walked into the white french themed room, where he was met with his far from innocent dream. Naked, on your knees waiting for him.

“Only for you.” You crawled closer to the edge of the bed, where he now stood. His hand cupped your cheek, as he leaned down and kissed his second favorite lips.

He loved you for many reasons. You were a strong, independent, hard working young woman. Who was paying her way through law school when he first met you. His pants instantly tightening. Ambition was one of his favorite traits in a woman. His favorite thing? You were dripping with innocence. He was the first man to touch you and fuck did he love that. He corrupted you.

“May I?”

“Always.”

Your hands wrapped around his neck pulling him closer, “I want you to tie me up with your bow tie.” Doe eyed and honey lacing your voice. His lips danced over yours before connecting them into an all consuming, earth shattering, life sucking kiss.

“You’re gonna be the death of me — fuck.” Your arms tangling with lapels, begging, scratching, needing him to take it off. “Your wish is my command, only for this.” His lips wet, pink and starving for you before ripping everything off his body. The only thing left —

His bowtie.

His cold rings brushing your warm hands and tying them off. Not to be touched until every single desire was fulfilled, until your desire’s were filled. His priority — you.

“How’s that feel?” His lips connect with yours. Something he never wanted to be without. The question always haunting him how did he ever live without you for this long?

“Perfect.” Doe eyed, golden encrusted, innocent for him. His cock couldnt get any harder than it was.

His lips trailing down your body marking his favorite canvas. His favorite art. Stopping when his lips met your nipples. Taking his time to show you the attention they deserve, marking them — you. The filthy things leaving your lips only fueled his desire for you. So desperately wanting to swallow everything you were saying. Fueled him to keep going, never stopping unless he was told.

You were his.

His lips stained your soft skin as he trailed them up your thighs before connecting it to your dripping pussy and devouring you like it was his last meal. He craved you - then, now and tomorrow. His mouth grazing your clit, your back arching, begging him for more. Two fingers plunging in and out slow, deep, and lustful. His tongue tracing his name, grazing his teeth against your clit.

“Fuck - i’m gonna cum soon. Do that thing please.” His lips never left your clit, every time something sinful left your lips would only encourage his behavior and in return the vibrations he left on your clit would make your head spin and bring you closer and closer until it felt as if you couldn’t see, breathe and even think straight. He desperately wanted to edge you, over stimulate your whole existence but he was too desperate to go watch you fall apart beneath him. So, he took his tongue and traced his last name on your clit. It was always Cameron. It made him hard knowing you got off when he would spell his name. You knew what he was spelling and every time he did it it made you orgasm mind blowing.

He was obsessed. Possessive. Territorial. Whatever you want to call it. He was.

“Not yet.” His pace quickened, his wrist desperate for release but he was desperate for yours.

“Daddy please.” The sinful word was his melody. He felt as if he could cum at the sight of you. Who was he kidding it had happened before and he’d happily let it happen again.

“Cum now.” Your back arched as if it was possessed — in a sense it was by Rafe Cameron, the vulgar sounds leaving your lips, your fingernails digging into your palm needing a relief somewhere, somehow.

He was quick to move on top of you, meeting your mouth for a frendzy kiss. A much needed kiss. The faint taste of scotch, mint, a smidge of cigarette and all of you was transferred from his lips to yours. His hips grinded into yours, his cock brushing your clit each time earning a whimper.

“Please. I need you.” Your hips bucked up, leg wrapped around his waist asking for permission. Always. “Daddy.”

“How badly?” His lips met your neck marking no claiming you. He was possessive. Possessive over what was his. Like you were his property, in a twisted sense you were. The jewelry, clothes, trips — all of it was of branding. You were branded by him. “Beg. Me. Now.”

“Please fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me. I’m only ever this way for you. Claim me. Destroy me. I’m yours. You own me. All of me. Always daddy.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and all of his painfully red, leaking cock was pressed into you before you could mutter out anymore. He knew you better than himself. He knew what made your body shy — what drove it insane, his favorite he knew what to do to make it tremble and fall apart by his hands and cock.

Your leg wrapped around him, which earned him hitting a deeper angle. Your back arched each time he pressed into you, each stroke different — some deeper and faster or slower and sensual. He wanted you to feel him in your stomach, organs wherever and everywhere. He was fucking hanging by a thread. He was on the cusp of a mind blowing orgasm but he needed you cum first. Always. Where he really wanted you to feel him was your heart but he feared you would never.

Each thrust — long or short was meaningful. He didn’t know how else to show or tell you. This is all he knew. Show not tell. He was crazy

“Look down gorgeous. Look at how I make you feel. How you fall apart because of me. I do this. No one else. No one will ever touch you the way I do. Ok?” His breath fanned your face as he hovered over you, never wanting to be without you. “You’re mine.”

“All yours.” You moaned out. Hands trying and failing to break free of its prison. His bowtie restricting you from marking his back, digging no branding his back with your nails.

“I have these thoughts. These all consuming thoughts—“ His stroke deeper, brushing your g spot and his hand wrapping its self around your throat, “Thoughts of you, in white all the time. This world is nothing with you and me together. Thoughts of you naked. Thoughts of you next to me like the good girl you are because you’d do anything for me-“ His hands pressing firmer then before, “because you would do anything for me.”

“Good girl only, always for you. I don’t need anyone else — fuck i’m almost there.” Your legs wrapped around him, heels pressed into his back. “Wanna be yours forever. Cum in me. Please.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, pace sloppy and far from forgiving, “You will marry me. And have my children. Fuck swollen belly, tits — fuck, your pussy and clit always swollen. I’d fuck you day in and day out.”

“Yes sir.”

“Cum for me Gorgeous.”

Your cum covered his cock with that. The gates of heaven opened for him. That's all it took for his cum to coat the insides of your walls. You dripped of innocence, he would always be there to claim it.

His hands found their way to untie you and placed you on his chest. His hands ran through your hair as you two found solace in this crazy unconventional relationship. A relationship that he wouldn’t trade for the world. All because of a website called OnlyFans.

His. Now and Forever.

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mstgay3000stories · 6 months

Text

Frat4Sale: Crave

Another story about a lazy roommate :) Commissioned by Habernath. Hope you enjoy! For more, check out this link:

Kristopher was only twenty one, a junior at college, and quite a looker in his own right. He had brown hair styled high, dark eyes, and a clean cut, boyish face with kissable, pouty lips. When he smiled, it was mischievous and playful, highlighting his best features, and making him even more irresistible.

He took great care of his body too. He often worked out, shaved frequently, and remained fit and trim, oftentimes going out shirtless in public just because he could. He had the girls at campus fawning all over him, and had plenty of notches on his bedpost to prove it.

And yet, despite his stunning looks, he was a total slob at home. He knew it. Everyone that knew him knew it. But he didn’t care.

He even had a roommate at one point, who could vouch firsthand for his poor personal habits: a young man named Melvin.

Melvin and Kris didn’t really get along. Melvin was rather uptight, and not only was Kris a slob, he was also an ass. Melvin would pick up after Kris whenever he left his clothes lying around, or whenever he left his dishes in the sink, or left food out everywhere, and any time Melvin tried to bring the issue up, Kris dismissed him or even mocked him. Sometimes, Kris would walk around shirtless while snacking, shamelessly dropping food or crumbs all over his hard, perfectly sculpted chest.

“Uh, you got food on you,” Melvin would say.

“Why don’t you lick it off then?” Kris would reply, laughing mischievously as he sauntered away, leaving more crumbs on the freshly vacuumed floor.

Living with someone so careless was certainly difficult for Melvin. But it was balanced by the fact that he found Kris overwhelmingly attractive. He, like the many girls Kris had fucked over the years, had no problem cleaning up after him if it meant he could ogle his perfect body just a little bit longer. Fortunately, Kris never caught on, and if he had, he would have made life even more miserable for the sophomore.

Kris moved out of the apartment the next year, but Melvin still missed getting glimpses at Kris’ perfect form, from his amazing chest, to his perfect rear, to his tasty, sexy feet. How could someone so sloppy be so incredibly hot? One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

When a friend recommended the Frat4sale website to him, he was absolutely floored to discover his old roommate on it. He knew that Kris was part of some type of frat and was strangely defensive about it whenever he inquired. Now he knew the reason why.

He had heard several stories from others about the mysterious Aaron, the guy that ran the website and the frat, and it always seemed so implausible. A guy that could mind control others? It sounded ridiculous.

It didn’t stop him from pursuing a session, especially since Kristopher was available. There was no way he was letting that opportunity slide. Besides, he would know right away if it was fake or not given Kris’ reactions to it when meeting; the guy was as straight as a horizontal line.

He had saved up enough money since moving out to buy a session that lasted about a few days. He described the scenario to Aaron through a detailed email, a little something that had been born from his own private fantasies.

In his scenario, he wanted to be roommates with Kris again, to briefly relive their torturous time together, but under very different circumstances. Kris would appear at his apartment, and be back to his usual jerkwad self. He would take off his clothes, walk around shirtless, and be as messy and asinine as always, only this time there would be a penalty that came in the form of The Douchebag Jar.

The Douchebag Jar would require Kris to put money into it anytime he ‘broke’ any one of Melvin’s rules regarding tidiness. Anytime he left his clothes around? A dollar in the jar. Food on his chest? More money for the jar. Etc, etc.

However, each time, Kris would find himself inexplicably unable to pay. He would still have to pay the price for his infractions—and Melvin was going to make him pay with his body. If Kris was under control, as Aaron claimed, then his requests should pose no problem.

He was surprised when he got an email back from Aaron. Everything he had detailed could be easily arranged, all that needed was payment. Melvin sent the money, then waited for his day to arrive, feeling anxious and even doubtful. He wondered why he had blown so much money in the first place. He even made a Douchebag Jar just for fun out of a mason jar and a taped piece of paper, with the words boldly spelled out. He didn’t expect to use it. The whole thing was probably a hoax anyway.

On the appointed day, he heard his doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. He held his breath for a moment, half-expecting it to be anyone other than Kristopher, but when he opened the door, his mouth slipped open.

Kristopher was back. Melvin gawked at him for a few moments, scanning him up and down with disbelief, yet there he was, with the same surly look on his face, his muscles bulging through his thin cotton shirt.

“Move?” he said.

Melvin regained his senses and got out the way. Kristopher barged in, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“H-how are you, Kris? Nice to see you and—”

Kristopher ignored him and headed to his old room, as if he had lived there the whole time, then shut the door without a word. Just like the old days….

Melvin sat down on the couch to take a breath. He couldn’t get over it. Was Frat4sale real? His eyes wandered over to the Douchebag Jar on the coffee table and he felt a tinge of anticipation hit his cock.

Only one way to find out.

Kristopher came out a short while later and headed to the kitchen.

“What’s to eat?” he said.

Melvin stared at him. He had taken off his shirt, and was walking around in shorts and socks. Melvin’s eyes scanned his fine, muscular, hairless body, his cock rumbling between his legs. It was like they really were roommates again.

“Hello?” Kris said, opening the fridge. “You deaf or something?”

Melvin collected himself. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t been to the store lately.”

Kris groaned loudly, and instead of being annoyed, as usual, Melvin felt giddy.

Kris slammed the fridge then headed to the pantry, and returned with a bag of chips that Melvin was saving for lunch the next day. He opened it without asking, then shoveled a handful into his mouth, crumbs falling all over his bare chest.

He headed to the living room then slumped into a sofa chair and continued to eat messily, chewing with his mouth open, as more and more crumbs tumbled onto his skin. Melvin stared at him from the couch, his heart thumping.

“What’s that?” Kris said, nodding his head towards the Douchebag Jar on the table.

“That’s uh, the Douchebag Jar.”

“The fuck is a Douche Jar?” Kris said, eating even more noisily.

“That’s Douchebag Jar, and it’s part of, uh, the new rules I’ve set up here.”

“Yeah? What kinda rules?” Kris burped, startling Melvin. He felt so nervous he could hardly articulate himself.

“Right. Uh, starting today, anytime you make a mess in the house, you need to put a dollar in the jar.”

They stared at each other silently for a moment. Melvin thought Kris was going to burst into laughter, or cuss at him for something so idiotic. Instead, Kris looked down at the mess he made on his bare chest, crumbs strewn about.

“Fuck.” He ate a single chip, spilling even more crumbs onto his flawless torso.

“Yeah….”

“Well I don’t got a dollar, bruh. So now what?” Kris stuffed his face again.

Melvin took a deep breath. It was now or never!

“You need to pay up, and since you don’t have any money, uh, I’ll need to...need to take something from you. From your body.”

“What, you gonna cut my finger off or something?” Kris laughed in his familiar, childish laugh.

“No, I mean, uh,” Melvin took a breath, then stood up, “oh fuck it, you need to pay up by doing anything I say, that’s what. And right now, since you have no money whatsoever, I demand that you let me eat those crumbs off your chest.”

Melvin felt his cheeks turn red. Did he really just blurt that all out? He immediately regretted it. It always felt so much better in his fantasies.

Kris gawped at him quietly. While Melvin couldn’t see it, the jock’s brain was already going off, Aaron’s conditioning running through it like engine oil, twisting and changing his natural reactions, subduing his natural jock instincts to laugh and bully.

Instead, Kris broke the tension with a sigh, then tossed the bag of chips onto the floor. “Fuck, man, I knew I shouldn’t have moved back in. These rules are gonna kill me. Alright, fine.”

Melvin’s eyes widened. “Fine? What do you mean, ‘fine’?”

“I mean, fine, you can eat these crumbs off my chest. Whatever. Stupid rule, but I got no money on me, so I guess it’s fair.”

Melvin almost fell back onto the couch. He could hardly speak or even think at that point. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

“Well? What are you waiting for? Hurry up, bruh, I don’t got all day.” Kris grabbed a few more chips from the bag and chomped on them as awaited his fate.

He flexed his chest, inadvertently teasing Melvin with it. Melvin felt the temperature rise in his pants.

He gulped, then approached Kris, falling to his knees. He stared at his beautiful chest, covered in scattered, salty bits and pieces. He half expected Kris to punch him right in the face, but instead, he merely gazed at him with his usual irritable, impatient look. It was as if they were conducting a simple business transaction, that Kris wanted to get over with as fast as possible.

But it was more than that. It was a simple transaction that had given Melvin a full-on boner!

Melvin’s lips quivered as he stared at the fallen food on Kris’ chest. His cock throbbed heavily down below, turned on even more by Kris’ uncharacteristic permissiveness. He had always wanted to do this, and couldn’t believe he finally had his chance!

He noticed a rather large chip resting comfortably on Kris’ pec. His head leaned towards it, and, with his gaze locked with Kris’, he gingerly ate the chip right off the unaware jock’s chest, munching on it quietly.

He felt a rush throughout his whole body. The taste of barbecue and salt greeted his tastebuds, but the fact it had been removed from Kris’ body by his own mouth electrified him. He felt emboldened, his cock growing even more in his underwear. His head plunged forward, unable to contain himself, as he let his lips sink onto Kris’ entire pec, swallowing up the surrounding crumbs in the area. His lips slid along the surface, causing his eyelids to flutter as the delectable taste of Kris’ skin filled his senses.

“Fuck me,” Kris said in disgust. Yet, he didn’t move in his seat. His brain accepted the ‘punishment’ he was receiving, though ordinarily he would’ve tossed Melvin onto his backside by now.

Melvin, however, felt consumed with desire, his cock raging below. His lips smacked on Kris’ pec, sometimes taking a moment to chew the loose bits of food in his mouth. His tongue swirled around Kris’ nipple, causing it to get hard, while Kris grunted uncomfortably. He let his fingers squeeze the other pec, plumping up the muscle, while his tongue hounded the other one, the salty and sweet taste of the chips complementing the taste of Kris’ body.

He gently bit into Kris’ chest next, causing the jock to moan and swear at him, but he was so horny he didn’t care. He ate the chips right off his skin first, then chewed on the nipple hungrily, enjoying the strange, sweet and salty taste, erotic and delicious.

“Christ, dude, the fuck are you doing?”

“Gotta...pay the...price….bruh…”

He never used the word ‘bruh’, but it amused him to do so. Kris squirmed in his seat as Melvin continued to bite and lick his chest, crumbs disappearing one by one. He turned his attention to the other nipple and licked it to hardness, moaning with pleasure, enjoying the salty taste on his lips. He licked his lips, then gently bit into the muscled area, as if he were taking the first bite into some luscious peach, causing Kris to howl. Then he treated the nipple to the same service, swirling his tongue around it lasciviously, before gently nibbling on it as if it were a piece of jerky. Kris grit his teeth, but endured, while Melvin spoiled himself at his expense.

But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. His hunger caused him to lick the rest of his torso, moving down to his muscled abs, chasing any stray crumbs he could find. He gnawed on the ridges of Kris’ stomach, causing him to shriek again. Kris swore even more, but Melvin noticed he didn’t kick him off at all; he knew he could get away with anything he wanted to at that point. He licked the ridges of his abs, his cock leaking profusely in his jeans, then moved up to the chest again, licking a pathway up to the arms.

He had cleaned up most of the food by now off the torso, but his hunger wasn’t sated. He moved to Kris’ armpit.

“Oh come on. Why the armpit?” Kris said. Melvin explained that he was simply following through with the price that was owed him. Kris reluctantly gave in, his dark eyes shooting daggers at Melvin.

Melvin pinned his arm up against the couch, then licked the newly exposed armpit, basking in the sweaty, musky taste, even finding a few morsels that had fallen there, straight from Kris’ chest. He licked the area ravenously, to Kris’ disgust, a far different flavor than the one at his chest, but one that was just as tantalizing. The jock’s natural scent and deodorant aroma was a treat for him, one that he spent several moments indulging in, lick after lick. He then moved to the triceps. He licked Kris’ triceps while Kris scowled at him, taking great pleasure in feeling the smooth, yet bulging ridges of his underarm; his tongue moved up and licked the biceps as well, his lips smacking and plump, leaving red marks all across the jock’s skin.

“You done yet?” Kris said.

Melvin shook his head. He licked his way across Kris’ broad shoulders to the other arm, where he sucked and groped at his arm muscles, sating his hunger just a little bit more, then forced Kris to expose his pit. Once again, he went after Kris’ tender underarm area, collecting a whole new layer of musk and tastiness on his tongue, while Kris looked on with annoyance. Melvin felt like his cock was bursting. He spent several moments licking the area, building up even more lust, before allowing Kris to drop his arm.

“Now are you finished? You fucking weirdo.”

Melvin wiped his mouth, catching a few breaths. “No. The payment came up a little...short.”

Kris rolled his eyes. “What else you need?”

“Kiss me.”

Kris’ eyes widened in shock, but his brain wouldn’t let him deny Melvin’s request. His fingers curled into fists, and he shook his head in a threatening manner, but Aaron’s control was unassailable. They shared a tense moment before he finally agreed to it, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t be like that,” Melvin said, wiping the crumbs from his own face. “I’m just trying to keep this place nice and clean.”

“Whatever.”

Melvin laughed, then grabbed the back of Kris’ head, and plunged in. He moaned when their lips made contact, while his tongue invaded the mouth. He noticed Kris scowling, which amused him: he enjoyed delivering the taste of his own body back to the jock, as the taste of Kris’ body and barbecue flavored chips still lingered on the tip of his tongue. Kris looked uncomfortable throughout the entire encounter, while Melvin made out passionately with him, gasping for breath at times from how horny he was, his body writhing. He was so turned on from the kissing, and the thought of Kris tasting himself indirectly through his tongue, that he ended up cumming in his jeans. His body trembled as he released, yet his lips remained locked on Kris, forcing him to keep up with him.

Melvin finally got off, and Kris wiped his mouth with his arm. His chest was glossy with saliva, but, finally, spotless. He noticed the wet spot at Melvin’s crotch and was even more repulsed.

“Now we’re done,” Melvin said breathlessly. He grinned then left Kris alone in the living room, and returned to his own room. He was in disbelief at what he had just accomplished. He was so excited he even texted his friend about it, who was glad he was finally getting a bit of revenge on the messy jock.

The Douchebag Jar actually worked! And if he could get away with eating scraps from Kris’ body and making out with him, what else could he do to him during his stay? He had the next few days to entertain himself, and decided to take it slow.

The next time he saw Kris was later on in the evening, a few hours later.

He was shirtless again, but this time, his socked feet were on the coffee table while he watched a game. He sipped on a beer and didn’t even comment on Melvin’s presence. Melvin turned off the TV.

“The fuck?”

“Excuse me,” Melvin said, standing in front of the blackened display, “but I see another Douchebag Jar violation.”

Kris glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where?”

Melvin pointed to Kris’ socked feet on the table. Kris looked upset.

“I don’t got any money on me.”

“That’s okay. Stay right there, this won’t take long.”

“Man, are you gonna mess with me again?”

“You gotta pay the price, Kris. It’s what we agreed to.”

Kris swore again, but did as he was told and remained in his seat—allowing Melvin to kneel right in front of his socked soles.

He took a moment to savor the sight before him: two big socked size twelves sitting innocently on the table, teasing him with their sexy arches and toe length, the outlines looking utterly amazing. He caught a glimpse of Kris’ annoyed face between his feet, which made him chuckle. It served the messy fucker right!

He let his hands run along the jock’s socked feet, taking in their heft, his cock once again rising. The smell wafted into his nose, awakening his senses, putting him on edge. His mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to get those socks off!

He let his face run along the edges of Kris’ soles first, causing him to voice his disgust. He even felt his toes wiggle in his socks, and yet, Kris was still sitting there, putting up with his ‘punishment’, just as he was ordered.

Melvin pulled off a sock, and was floored. He knew what Kris’ feet looked like from their time together; he had fantasized about them often. But to be this close to them! He gazed up and down the wide, perfect sole, the incredible arch, the amazing toes. He pulled off the other sock, and was greeted with the foot’s partner, two perfect snacks just begging to be devoured by him. His cock was fully rigid and ready to go, despite the grumpy expression on Kris’ face.

He let his face run along the length of both feet again, warming himself up even more, not at all put off by Kris’ jeers and impatient tongue clicks. The jock’s feet were so warm and soft, so perfect, just like the rest of his body. There was a tangy, wonderful scent emanating from them, which drove Melvin even more wild.

He opened his mouth, and when his tongue made contact, his entire body shuddered.

“Fuckin’ nasty,” Kris said, folding his arms and looking away. Melvin didn’t care. The jock’s feet were a dream! His tongue licked up and down the soles, his cock throbbing heavily from the taste and texture. He took turns licking each sole, his neck craning up and down while his tongue lapped away furiously. Sometimes Kris would wiggle or spread his toes in revulsion, but it only heated Melvin’s loins even more. He couldn’t wait to get at those next!

He put Kris’ feet on top of each other, ignoring his protests the same way Kris ignored his own about cleaning up. Then, he allowed himself to take long, luxurious swipes right up both soles, causing them to tense, his own cock leaking profusely. He pressed his face against them and nuzzled his nose against the arches, taking in more of the scent, his mouth taking its turn from time to time to take in more of that authentic jock-boy taste.

He placed both feet side by side again, then brought the toes to his face. Kris flexed his toes back, which was the best he could do to avoid him, but Melvin held him down firmly anyways, feeling a slight rush of power at having so much control over the jock. He sighed happily as he let his nose run along the bottoms of all ten toes, breathing in their rich scent, enjoying the way they twitched and moved around.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Kristopher said. “This is some sick shit, bruh.”

“That’s funny, I used to say the same thing about your personal habits.”

Melvin let his tongue have a taste of Kris’ amazing toes, then moaned in satisfaction: Kris’ feet were delicious by themselves, but the toes had an even better flavor, and the jock’s reactions were a wonderful added bonus.

His tongue ran all over the toes, spreading them apart, allowing him to enjoy them even more. He opened his mouth and started sucking on them, fulfilling a fantasy he had harbored the entire time he used to live with Kris, his cock shooting out precum as soon as he tasted them.

He moaned breathlessly as he sucked toe after toe, spending a few moments with each one, his head bobbing up and down while his fingers pressed into the soles. Kris’ toes writhed inside his mouth, clenching futilely at times, yet he was powerless to Melvin’s assault. The jock could barely look anymore, and he hated the feeling of it. Yet, he felt ‘obligated’ by some strange compulsion regardless, though he couldn’t understand why.

Melvin had worked himself into a frenzy, and needed to get some release. Everything about Kris’ feet had fulfilled his deepest fantasies. He whipped out his cock (noting Kris’ even more extreme reactions), then daringly started rubbing them across his soles, squirting his precum all over it.

“Are you fucking serious? What the fuck?” Kris said.

“You only brought this on yourself, Kris. Time to collect the rest of your fine!”

He grabbed Kris’ feet and let his cock rub against the soles, moaning happily while his shaft quivered in his hand. He anointed the bottoms of his toes with precum, ensuring that it got between them, delighting in the way Kris spread them apart from shock, which only made delivering his precum easier.

At last, he grabbed the jock’s big feet and wedged his cock between them. Kris covered his face, while Melvin took his wet and slick, throbbing, veiny cock, and began moving in and out between the tight space between the jock’s soles. Kris constantly swore, yet he remained powerless, his face flinching. He knew what he had to do. The price had to be paid.

Melvin sighed and moaned breathlessly, working his cock up more and more, his balls ready to burst. He couldn’t believe he was actually fucking Kristopher’s feet, and every thrust felt incredibly satisfying, his cock thrilled by the sensations running through it. The fact that Kris hated it made it even more enjoyable, and the expression on his face was priceless. He thrust harder and harder, and shouted after one final, bigger thrust, cumming at last, and releasing copious amounts of his jizz all over Kris’ feet and legs. The jock groaned in disgust, and when Melvin was finished, he pulled away, leaving the jock’s feet a cum-covered mess. It was a mess that, for once, he was proud of.

He grabbed Kris’ socks.

“What are you doing with my socks? Hey, wait!”

Melvin started putting the socks back on Kris’ feet, slapping his hands away whenever he tried to stop him.

“This is the last thing, promise.” He covered them back up, and loved how they immediately began to dampen from the new layer of cum on Kris’ soles and toes.

“What the fuck, bruh?”

“I want you to wear these the rest of the night. Then you can consider your infraction paid for.”

“But I’m going out with the bros later tonight!”

“Well...make sure you take a shower when you get back.” He winked, then left, leaving Kris feeling even more agitated and confused.

Kris left for the rest of the night in a sour mood, but Melvin noticed he did his best not to make any more offenses. Melvin spent the rest of the evening relaxing, overjoyed with what he had accomplished on the first day alone, his cock taking a much needed break.

The next day, he woke up to find Kris wasn’t anywhere to be found. He prepared breakfast for himself, and was surprised to find Kris enter through the front door.

“Hey,” he said. Kris ignored him again. He looked like he had just worked out. He was in gym clothes, and they looked damp.

However, Melvin noticed he started undressing right in the hallway. He watched as he took off his socks and shoes, then the rest of his clothes, leaving them strewn all over the floor, a particularly nasty habit he used to indulge in back when they lived together.

But this time, there would be no futile pleading with him. Kris got down to his jockstrap, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Melvin stopped him by blocking him in the hall.

“Uh, move?” Kris said. Melvin took a moment to observe Kris’ gorgeous body, his beautiful ass sticking out behind him in all its bare glory, his strap bulging with meat.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Clothes all over the floor? Oh yeah, you need to pay the Douchebag Jar, no exceptions.”

Kris was in disbelief. “Are you serious? Do I look like I got my fucking wallet on me?”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate. Guess that means you’ll have to pay another way. You can meet me on the couch.”

Melvin walked past him. Kris hit the wall with his fist, but felt compelled to do as Melvin said anyways. Melvin was already seated in the living room when he entered it, a big, excited grin on his face.

He couldn’t wait to dole out the next ‘punishment’, especially with Kris already dressed for the occasion. The jock stood in front of the TV, his jock strap meeting Melvin’s eye level, his arms folded.

“What now?” he said. “Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m doing this shit, this is so unlike me.”

Melvin smiled.

“I want you to come over here and turn around. I’m gonna spank you, maybe rim you a bit, finger fuck you, then fuck you for real. What do you say to that?”

Melvin loved the outrage on Kris’ face, but he knew the jock couldn’t deny him in any way whatsoever.

And he was right.

“Fine. Do it. Fuck this shit, man. I swear I’m moving out the first chance I get!”

Melvin motioned for him to approach him, then turned him around, allowing him a fuller glimpse of Kris’ amazing booty. His own cock was ready, once again, and his mouth was salivating.

“Bend over.”

Kris sucked in his lips, and felt the sudden urge to murder Melvin, but it was abated by Aaron’s brainwashing. He did as he was told, causing his ass to pop out even more towards his horny roommate.

Melvin let his hands rove around Kris’ buttocks, feeling that familiar, and totally welcome, rush of power. He found Kris’ ass was just as perfect as the rest of his body, rotund, juicy, and just begging to be fucked.

He slapped the jock’s cheeks, causing him to yell out.

He continued to spank him, taking turns with each buttcheek, loving the fresh bloom of color that appeared on it. He enjoyed the way each buttock jiggled, as well as the very satisfying thwap sound, and his spanking got more and more intense, the more he recalled just how much of an ass Kristopher had been to him in the past.

Kris swore louder and louder, and his ass turned bright red from the frequent smacking. Melvin’s cock was immediately turned on by it all, signaling it was time to take Kris’ ‘punishment’ to the next level.

He pulled the jock strap down, and when Kris tried to protest, he simply handwaved it away, claiming the necessity of payment, while Kris grumbled under his breath.

Melvin pulled the jockstrap down, spotting Kris’ cock hanging between his legs. He would get to that some other time, but for now, he wanted to throw himself to the joy that was Kris’ ass.

He spread the cheeks apart, and was met with a musky, moist crack, a little ripe from the workout, but undeniably sexy. He pushed his face forward and took in even more of the sight and scent, his cock shuddering uncontrollably from it, while Kris winced and sweated from nervousness.

Melvin’s tongue extended, and he moaned gleefully at the rich taste that filled his senses. Kris groaned and shuddered, yet maintained position, as Melvin began to lick up and down his crack, holding onto his cheeks, his fingers digging into the juicy fat. He loved having the jock in such a compromising position; it was not only incredibly hot, but also humiliating to Kris, which he found highly amusing. His tongue lapped up the area, his own body turned on even more by Kris’ shudders and groans.

He let his tongue swirl around the hole, the taste far more rich there, noting how it clenched from nervousness.

“Relax, Kris, you’re not in prison or anything. It’s just me.” Melvin smiled mischievously.

“I might as well be in prison, you fucking asshole! Fuck you, Melvin.”

Melvin laughed and continued to rim Kris voraciously. His lips turned to the buttocks themselves, and he wiped them with his tongue, covering the surface wholly. Kris winced and griped as Melvin’s tongue stung his newly sensitive, reddened buttocks, but Melvin didn’t stop regardless.

When he was finished with licking and worship, it was time to give his fingers a go. He let his fingers trail down Kris’ moist crack softly and gently, causing him to feel even more nervous. His fingers ran across his plump buttocks playfully, their delicate motions making Kris feel more and more threatened.

“You’re not going to put those in, you know...”

“What do you think, dumbass?” Melvin smiled at his own uncharacteristic reply. He hardly ever cursed at anyone like that! But he couldn’t help himself. It was so much fun having Kris at his mercy!

Kris screamed when he felt Melvin’s finger poke at his hole.

“I haven’t even got inside yet,” Melvin said.

Kris whimpered, begging Melvin to not go through with it, even promising to clean up after himself later, which surprised Melvin. He had never known Kris to be such a wuss, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

He finally jabbed his finger inside. Kris let out a high pitched shriek.

“Now I’m inside you.” Melvin laughed as his finger dug deeper into Kris’ throbbing hole. Kris wanted to escape, to attack, but Aaron’s conditioning made sure he stayed put, to take his punishment right in the ass, quite literally in this case.

Melvin let his single finger burrow into the jock’s hole, further and further, taking as much liberty as he could, and when he had stretched him enough, he forced a second finger inside. Kris howled, while Melvin laughed, his cock throbbing even more, every finger and push inside the jock feeding his cock’s hunger bit by bit.

He fucked and stretched his hole like cotton candy being spun, and even managed to get a third finger inside, right up to the knuckle. He kept it there, enjoying the feel of Kris’ insides, yet another intimate body part he never thought he’d be acquainted with. Kris was teary eyed, and cursing by the second, yet his cock was strangely getting hard from the forced stimulation. Melvin allowed his fingers to push back and forth gently, spreading the jock’s entry point wider, while simultaneously also causing Kris’ cock to tent. The sight of it disappeared from view, and that’s when Melvin knew Kris was hard.

“Wow, you’re hard? Maybe you’re gay too.”

“Shut up!” Kris said, whimpering. He felt tense from the agony of having fingers up his ass, as well as the humiliation at being hard from it.

Melvin was ready. He pulled his fingers out, giving Kris some temporary relief, then stood up and got his own cock out. His cock throbbed heavily in his hand, and he gave himself a few strokes as he readied to put it inside Kris’ newly minted hole.

He let his cockhead swirl around Kris’ hole first, drops of precum wetting it even more.

“You fucking asshole….I can’t believe I’m letting you do this!”

Melvin laughed, while Kris continued to swear at him, but he stopped Kris’ protests by sticking his cockhead inside his hole, causing him to moan instead. Melvin spent several moments enjoying the feel of having made it inside, an accomplishment he took a somewhat twisted sense of pride in.

He sighed dreamily, preparing himself for something he always wanted to do: to fuck Kris in his ass.

He once again recalled the many times he wanted to do so in the past: all those times of agitation, frustration, all the times Kris laughed in his face. And then, with one fell swoop, he thrust as hard as he could inside the jock, violently, mercilessly.

Kris shouted and almost keeled over from the impact, but his cock reacted with joy. They both moaned as Melvin held the position, his cock throbbing against Kris’ warm insides, wanting more and more.

He delivered several smaller thrusts, gasping with pleasure and disbelief, both of their cocks throbbing intensely. He pulled away, leaving only the head in, then rammed Kris once again, all at once, causing both of them to moan even louder.

From there, it was a mix of smaller and medium sized thrusts. Both of them were writhing and moaning breathlessly, sweating profusely, while Melvin pistoned in and out, taking his roommate for a ride. His thrusts got shorter and faster. Melvin grit his teeth, and his balls swelled, as he finally came inside the jock, unable to withhold himself any longer. Kris shouted a short while after, cumming himself.

Melvin pulled out, and was happy to see his cum bubble out of Kris’ hole, a work of art. Sure, the living room was messier with all the cum all over it, but he didn’t care; he’d clean it up himself even! He was just grateful for the experience overall.

Kris, on the other hand, could barely walk, and hobbled away, naked and wet.

“Hope you enjoy your shower,” Melvin said with a cheeky grin.

Kris was far too upset to even say anything back, and wandered off, his lips pursed. He hated the feeling of the jizz sliding down his thighs, and his insides felt like they were burning. On the other hand, it had all felt earth shatteringly good, enough for him to cum twice from it, a fact he didn’t dare share with his roommate.

Melvin cleaned up, then retired to his room for the rest of the day, far too spent to play anymore. He only had one day left with Kris, but for now he needed a break!

The next day, Kris made no mention at all of his ‘punishments’, and the Douchebag Jar even made a couple of actual dollars throughout the day. It seemed Kris was being mindful of his own behavior. Melvin spent the entire day in, and noticed his roommate carefully avoiding some of his usual shenanigans, which amused him.

Kris grabbed a beer, and, while heading back to his room, opened it. It foamed and spilled onto the floor.

“You just spilled beer all over the place, Kris.”

“Fuck.” Kris searched his pockets. He patted them down, becoming more and more upset. “Oh come on, I know I had a dollar in here somewhere!”

“Sorry, but...you know what that means.” Melvin got up from the couch, ready to collect.

“No way, bro. I know I have some money on me. Just give me a second and I’ll get my wallet, and….”

Melvin shook his head. “Sorry, but the rules are the rules. Time to pay up.”

Kris shut his eyes in frustration, then angrily placed his beer on a nearby table. “How do I pay it off this time? Man, fuck this Douchebag Jar crap!”

“We’ll just keep it simple. A blowjob will do.”

“A what?!”

“You heard me.”

Kris stood there angrily, his mind stewing with all sorts of things he’d like to do Melvin, and none of them involved pleasure. However, he had no choice but to cave in to his fussy roommate’s demands.

“I’ve never blown a guy before.”

“First time for everything.” A grin spread across Melvin’s face as Kris fell to his knees, right on top of the small mess he had made on the carpet.

Melvin hastily brought his cock out, then ordered Kris to lick it to hardness. Kris winced, but did as he was told, gingerly moving his head back and forth as he brought Melvin’s cock to life. Melvin loved his reactions. He looked like some kid that was being forced to eat his vegetables, and couldn’t wait to stuff even more down his ungrateful throat.

It didn’t take long for him to get hard. Getting sucked off by a straight boy, especially one as hot as Kris, was incredibly entertaining, and felt overwhelmingly wonderful. When his cock was rock hard, he told Kris to lick his shaft. Kris scoffed, but Melvin didn’t relent, forcing him to do it anyway. He began craning his neck, doing his best to service Melvin’s cock and struggling, amusing Melvin as well as turning him on further.

He stopped Kris’ clumsy dick licking, then let his cockhead rub against Kris’ lips. Kris groaned and his face soured, but he stayed in position despite himself, even as Melvin’s precum made his lips glossy.

“Open up,” Melvin said.

Kris tried with all his might to resist, but he just couldn’t do it. He let out a frustrated cry, then his jaw opened, and then, Melvin was inside his face. Melvin’s eyelids fluttered as he sank inside his messy roommate, his hands running through Kris’ fauxhawk.

He loved the sight of Kris’ displeased expression, his cheeks bulging with his cock. He loved the feel of his tongue on his rod, which slowly pistoned in and out, much gentler than the forceful ass fucking he had delivered the day before.

He enjoyed the slow, steady rhythm, slowly edging deeper and deeper, further and further down Kris’ mouth….and then started to pick up the pace. Kris gagged, even looking up in shock, but Melvin only tightened his hold. Once again, he felt a rush of power and was more than happy to punish Kris for his past behavior, driving his dick further down his mouth until he was fucking his throat. Kris gagging became more pronounced, his eyes watered, and his nose started to run, while Melvin clutched his hair tightly, pulling it from his scalp.

He started skullfucking Kris, forcing his head to move rapidly against his pelvis, his nose hitting his skin. Melvin moaned and gasped, the whites of his eyes showing as he surrendered to the immense pleasure, the joy of finally giving Kris what he truly deserved. He came, filling Kris’ throat with his jizz, causing him to gag and even cry.

He pulled out, and his jizz fell onto the carpet, mixing with the beer stains on the carpet and making an even bigger mess. Kris collected himself, coughing and retching, holding his throat, his face red and his chin dripping with cum.

“Don’t forget to clean that all up,” Melvin said, leaving to the restroom to freshen up after his hearty blowjob.

The day continued without a hitch. Kris even cleaned up after himself, including the mess from their blowjob earlier. Now that Melvin was rested again, he was ready for more. He knew he only had a couple hours left with Kris. While he was more than satisfied with his session so far, he was hoping to at least catch him in the wrong one more time before he took off good.

He got his chance. Kris was getting ready for a shower for a date later that night. Melvin knew that, once he left, he would never see him again (unless he paid for it, of course). Kristopher was on the phone, talking to his latest female conquest, and was getting ready for a shower—but was in nothing but his underwear.

When he came to the living room to grab a snack, Melvin cleared his throat.

Kris looked at him with an annoyed expression, and covered the speaker on his phone. “What?” he said in a hushed voice.

Melvin pointed his gaze towards Kris’ underwear.

“So what?” Kris said in whispers. “I’m not making a mess, am I?”

“Walking around in your underwear is still a violation.”

Kris got louder. “I thought walking in a jockstrap was a violation, when the hell did underwear become a bad thing?”

Melvin wouldn’t hear it. “Sorry, but this is an infraction, and you need to pay up.”

Kris’ face was shocked. “I don’t have any money on me, I’m on the phone! Have a fucking care, would you?”

Melvin smiled to himself. How many times had he made that exact same plea in the past?

But this time was different. He wouldn’t budge.

Kris shook his head angrily. “Sorry,” he said to the girl on the phone, “I’ll have to call you back.”

“No, wait!” Melvin said. “Stay on the line. This will be part of your payment.”

Kris was puzzled. Melvin explained he wanted to give Kris a blowjob this time—while he remained on the phone.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Kris whispered.

“No. Just horny,” Melvin said bluntly. “Plus, I find this amusing. Stay on the line. This won’t take long.”

Kris was speechless as Melvin got to his knees. He encouraged him to keep talking, even as he pulled his waistband down, revealing his big floppy cock.

Finally! He had been so busy with the rest of Kristopher’s beautiful body the last couple days he never had a chance to acquaint himself with his cock, one-on-one. Now it was time.

“Yeah,” Kris said nervously on the phone, “I’m uh...I’m still here, baby.”

Melvin began stroking Kris’ cock as he talked to his latest date. It grew stiff by the second, throbbing with every pull on it, every squeeze heating it up. Kris leaned back on the wall as Melvin stroked him to a fat erection.

“Yeah babe...we can go out to the beach l-later and...ohhh gawd….what? N-nothing it’s...mmmm….w-what are you talking about...I’m fine!”

Kris sucked his lips in, as Melvin began licking his cock, taking his time to indulge in the taste. It was everything he ever dreamed about when it came to Kris’ cock, musky, manly, hard as steel. Kris’ knees wobbled as Melvin serviced him, the veins throbbing rapidly in his shaft.

He hissed. “No, you’re the only one I’m talking to right now, babe, I swear! It’s just….oh gawd….ohhhhh…fuck...”

Melvin took Kris inside his mouth and began sucking him hungrily. He gazed up at the jock as he whimpered helplessly, and could hear the girl on the phone growing more confused...and angry.

He smiled as he sucked on Kris’ cock further, causing him to grow more restless as his head bobbed back and forth, the jock even moaning at times.

“N-no, I’m not...not fucking another girl right now at all! You crazy? You sound like my stupid roommate M-mel...oh fuck...mmmmmm….Melvin...ahh!”

Melvin almost laughed, his cheeks bulging with Kris’ cock. He tasted his precum, and increased his sucking, doing his best to draw more and more out of the captured jock. His sucking became heavier and more rapid, rendering Kris incoherent. Kris’ eyes rolled up and he dropped his phone, as he moaned louder and louder, while Melvin sucked him like a leech. Finally, the jock exploded, his cries spreading across the living room. A smile managed to spread across his face, but was immediately dispelled when he realized his call had ended.

“Aw shit,” he said. He pulled out his cock from Melvin’s mouth, grabbed his phone, then returned to his room, making several attempts to reach his date again.

“You fucking asshole, Melvin!” He yelled, right before he slammed the door.

Melvin wiped his mouth, the taste of cum still fresh inside it. As far as he was concerned, the session was officially over.

Kris finally ended up leaving later in the evening, taking his gym bag of stuff with him, and Melvin watched him drive away through the window. He returned to the living room, and picked up the Douchebag Jar. It seemed he had made five bucks in total over the last three days, which meant Kris had cleaned up after himself exactly that amount of times. It was five times more than he ever did in the past. He took the money out, and put the jar away, and couldn’t wait to use it once again. He was sure it wasn’t the last time he’d run into his douche of a roommate, and he’d have his jar ready for him.

#male hypnosis #hypnosis #gay hypnosis #malefeet #gayfeet #mstgay3000

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blue-thief · 2 months

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@galaxynajma here are the actor/artist/writer isakainess hcs i mentioned earlier 🫡 (this got wayy longer than i was expecting it to be so it's basically a fic outline atp

kaiser started off as a child actor which explains... everything

when he was really young he popped up in a few roles for some pretty big movies

his biggest role as a kid though came when he was about ten where he played a big supporting character in a long-running kids' sitcom (think stuff like hannah montana, icarly, etc)

he's more or less cut off contact with his parents but he was fortunate to get a hold of his money once he turned 18

he's since moved out, rents out his own modest apartment, and he's shown up in a few moderately successful things

he's far from being an a-list actor but he's got a decent following

even though most people wouldn't be able to recognize his face, he can mention the stuff he's been in and people will be like "ohh yeah i've heard of that, i've been meaning to check it out"

he usually has to wear makeup to cover up his tattoo. most of his notable roles came before he cut + dyed his hair

his goal is to become an oscar-winning actor and he was able to get the lead role for a really serious film. his new hair just happened to suit the role

meanwhile there's ness the writer

he started off studying something STEM-related to appease his parents. besides, he needs a backup plan just in case the whole writing thing doesn't work out

but he soon dropped out due to being overwhelmed by how intense his competition was

fortunately enough he's still in contact with an ex classmate and he got some money doing copywriting for their side gig's website

on top of that he started submitting flash fiction and poetry to different competitions and magazines like CRAZYYY just to make a little more money

kaiser stumbles across one of his pieces, looks into him a little more, and finds ness's personal blog

he reads up on ness ranting about his parents and how he has no money

at this point kaiser's kinda fallen in love but he doesn't wanna seem too weird

and he reaches out to ness saying, "hey ik this sounds kinda weird but if you really wanna pursue your dreams but you're low on money you can become my roommate"

at first ness is like "wtf is this guy gonna try to kill me"

but he's late on rent and about to get evicted so he's DESPERATE

he agrees to meet kaiser to assess the vibes

and well. obviously ness falls head over heels in love with kaiser

(obv kaiser isn't gonna kill ness but don't follow in ness's footsteps guys you probably won't end up being as lucky)

and it works out great. kaiser's more than happy to cover most of the rent, he's out most of the time filming, and ness just has this bigass apartment where he's got ample space to work

anyway while kaiser's out and about one day he's at this cafe

there's this one worker on break, still in his apron and everything

he's off in the corner doodling something

the worker is isagi

and kaiser notices isagi is drawing HIM

kaiser goes up to him all smug like "wow, are you a fan? you want an autograph?"

and isagi's like "bro idfk who you are i just really liked your tattoo"

they talk a bit and isagi tells kaiser where he can find more of his work

isagi's mostly focused on digital art and commissions but he's also studying animation

kaiser finds his instagram and commissions isagi

"that napkin doodle you made of me was pretty good but i'd love to see how well you can capture my beauty given ample time (and money) ;)"

kaiser quickly becomes isagi's most frequent and highest paying client

you can say he's basically become isagi's (and to an extent ness's) sugar daddy

but kaiser likes to think of himself of those wealthy patrons from the renaissance

kaiser loved swinging by the cafe to ask about isagi's progress on his latest commission

one day he overheard isagi panicking about not being able to pay rent

and kaiser's like "you can move in with me and my roommate if you want"

and well. isagi does exactly that

ness kinda gets all crazy and possessive like "WHO'S THIS HOW DID YOU MEET HIM HOW DO YOU KNOW HE'S NOT-"

suffice to say he and isagi don't get along at first

but kaiser's never home so it's mostly just them on opposite sides of the apartment, sending glares at each other every now and then

it's BECAUSE kaiser is never around that isagi and ness are forced to bond with each other eventually

FUCK THIS POSTED INSTEAD OF GETTING SAVED AS A DRAFT

oh whatever i'll probably make this into a fic and fill in the rest that way 😭😭

#i might make this into a proper fic someday idk #blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #michael kaiser #alexis ness #kaisagi #kainess #nessagi #isaness #isakainess #kainessagi

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 6 months

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Of Celtic Crosses and Wheels of Fortune

Hey there! So as I'm sure most of us are aware by now, in Double, Mikoto's diamond earrings have now changed into earrings which look suspiciously like the tarot card of the Wheel of Fortune, and the symbol also appears repeatedly throughout the MV.

This actually could confirm something I had been suspecting since MeMe regarding how we're meant to read the celtic cross spreads which appear there, and has some interesting symbolism attached to it.

CW Murder, workplace abuse

So it's pretty widely known that there are three different celtic cross spreads which appear throughout MeMe. Here they are:

(The first one actually flashes on screen twice, but there's no noticeable difference between the two appearances so they're assumed to be the same spread)

The third one is filled out by the cards which appear afterwards.

So, how does one read these spreads? ... No seriously, how are we supposed to read them? I don't engage in divination, I don't know what I'm doing. Let's hit up the internet to see how we're supposed to go about this!

Ah, I see. The problem with tarot cross spreads is that the order the querent sets up the cards and the meaning they each have is arbitrary. In fact, as you can see, there's even cultural differences between how Japanese people read it vs how westerners read it. But, is there any way to know how Mikoto reads them? I believe so.

So let's start by what's always the same. The first card always goes in the center of The Wheel (yes that's the name of the thing), the second on top of it, and the last four go bottom to top in The Wand (or The Pillar or some other name). The question comes from the other four cards in The Wheel.

Why is this important? Well, because the order of drawing changes the meaning. If you draw them in a circular fashion (case 2 in the above diagrams), the cards have meaning based on draw order. If you draw them in any other way, they have meaning based on position. This means to know how we're supposed to read them, we need to know how Mikoto draws them.

Thankfully, there is a way I think we can tell. Check out the ending of MeMe:

The second card goes on top of the first, as established. Then, the next four appear with a part of the card off frame. Even though card 3 is off center, only the bottom is cut off. Card 4 has the right cut off, then card 5 has right, then card 6 has top. Thus, the draw order is likely bottom, right, left, top. This... doesn't match any of the websites I checked, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that it's not a circle, so the meaning is related to position.

For our purposes this post, we're interested in the middle three. The left card is the past, the middle (first card) is present, the right is future... in western readings. Look back at the Japanese examples I gave:

未来 is future.

過去 is past.

As you can see, because Japanese people have different reading rules, sometimes they read the spread Past->Present->Future, but sometimes they read it Future<-Present<-Past. The way you tell which is which is that the Past card is always drawn before the Future. Which, yeah, makes sense. Looking back at Mikoto, he draws the card on the right before the card on the left, meaning we're probably supposed to read it Future<-Present<-Past.

Alright got it? Good. Now, we have to check which spread belongs to each alter.

The third spread is easiest. Based on the lighting, the punch at the end, the red mannequin in The Fool card which carries a skull, etc, John appears to be the one reading it. There are more reasons to believe this, but they require a deeper reading of the spread than I'm willing to enter here. So trust me bro.

Then, the second spread has the reversed King of Cups in the first card of The Wand.

That card of the spread represents... different things depending on the source, but generally it's the attitude the querent takes about the problem they face, the power they have over the situation, or even advice; basically, it's how the querent approaches their problems. The reversed King of Cups can mean a lot of different things, including emotional repression or violence. However, since John has this card in this position as well, we can assume this querent approaches problems the same way John does. We can thereby assume this spread belongs to the left-handed alter who also killed someone, who I'll call Midokoto. Yes I still believe Trikoto (probably should make a post compiling evidence in Double, which there's a decent bit of), since the host is probably right-handed. By process of elimination, the first spread must be the host's, who I'll just call Mikoto. Again, there's other reasons to believe this, but I don't want to go too deep into the spreads.

Alright, back to the Wheel of Fortune. I'll start with the second spread, which has it reversed in the Concious ("as above") position. This position represents what the querent wants, the thing they are actively and conciously working towards. The reversed Wheel of Fortune can represent several things, including misfortune, unhealthy cycles, etc, but in this position, I believe the most applicable reading could be resistance to change. In other words, this alter is actively working towards keeping their life as it is.

[MeMe] Maybe it's ok to try to keep on living Split in half, make that heart beat

I've talked about it before, but I believe this is what Midokoto is working towards. Although that post is slightly outdated (I now no longer believe pronouns in lyrics are a good way to determine which alter is on screen), I still believe this is Midokoto speaking. He's the only alter who doesn't want change, which I think may also be implied by Double. You know those image flashes which appear all throughout Double? The only one we can be sure is probably attached to Midokoto is this (plus a few other images):

After all, this alter holds the bloodied bat with the left hand. You can also see the "crown of thorns" associated with John (long story) isn't over his head, and the antlers connected to Mikoto (long story) are nowhere to be seen, but I'm not sure that makes sense to anyone but me. I really should make a "Trikoto in Double" post huh.

(Note: The English lyrics on screen simply repeat "I was having such a hard time, I was trying so hard", which applies to all alters and doesn't use a pronoun in Japanese)

The thing you'll notice are the diamonds there, which look a lot like the earrings Mikoto was wearing prior to Double. This is, as far as I can tell, the only time these things show up in one of these image flashes. Additionally, this is one of, if not the only image flash which doesn't include the Wheel of Fortune. And the Wheel of Forutne by itself a symbol of change, and of cycles. Thus, this is the alter who doesn't want change, and who is least involved in the cyces of their lives; Midokoto.

Is this good or confirmation bias? Good question! Moving on.

Because you see, the most interesting thing to me isn't the second spread, but the other two. Because the Wheel of Fortune reversed is the Future of the first spread, but its upright version is the Past of the third.

This already tells us some stuff, doesn't it? Mikoto's future in that spread is John's Past in a way, which makes sense. The outcome of the first spread is The Devil, a card which is representative of the querent's darkest desires, which-

[Neoplasm] (Translation) John: I might be the person Boku wishes he was. The person who stubbornly stands his ground, who doesn’t cry himself to sleep from stress, who gives people their payback.

Oh, hey John! Yeah, between that line and the Devil card coming out of the mirror in that one scene of MeMe, it's fair to say John is represented by the Devil card in some way. In other words, both the outcome card and the Future card point at the appearance of John as a result of the toxic cycles in Mikoto's life. Mainly overworking, apparently.

What's interesting about these cycles is that the opposite is also true. John's Future is the Five of Swords, the same card in the Past of the two other spreads.

This card in this position basically means (among other things) conflict, in particular defeat or walking away from a conflict. I believe this represent's Mikoto's actions after John/Midokoto kill someone. After some stress is alleaviated, Mikoto begins fronting most of the time, and he doesn't want to engage in conflict. He tries to make everyone happy, which ends up stressing him and once again starting the unhealthy cycles of abuse in his life, the "reversed Wheel of Fortune", which once again leads to John breaking the cycle by killing a threat. Does that make sense?

That's why the Wheel of Fortune card is upright in John's Past. Because it's the Past, it's possible to interpret it as the destruction of an unhealthy cycle. In other words, John appears to break an unhealthy cycle... or, he appears when an unhealthy cycle is broken.

This is where we acknowledge the card in MeMe is different from the one in real life.

For one, all the missing animals and mythological creatures, but I won't get into it. The presence of multiple wheels can be seen as a representation of various cycles, and they're bike wheels for likely no other reason beyond stylization purposes.

However, what's interesting is that there's already blood on the wheel. Naturally because this cycle involves murder, but if so, does it make sense for it to be in John's Past if he's the only killer? You could certainly read this as "someone had already died by the time John split from the system", which fits the theory John only split from the trauma of a murder and not just stress. But that may just be confirmation bias, so take it with a grain of salt.

Regardless of that, this whole explanation serves to answer why the Wheel of Fortune is so important to Double. It's showing this cycle more directly. The unhealthy cycles from overworking and hiding feelings end up in murder. The symbol is connected to both Mikoto and John since they make up the cycle (mostly) and wish to break it, but not to Midokoto, maybe. It's weird.

Anyways, regardless of whether or not you agree with my insane ramblings, I hope you enjoyed the analysis! Take care!

#milgram #milgram theory #mikoto kayano #double mv #meme mv #does this make sense i dont know #mikoto is no less of a headache after double huh

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.

Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter One - A New School in an Old Town

"Are you sure you have everything you need?"

With the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder, you let out a chuckle in reaction to your father's speech.

"Yes, Captain Rogers, I'm sure." You retort good-naturedly, adjusting the box in your hands and opening the bedroom door with your foot. "I already got the last box, and I have the tour with the monitor girl now, so I gotta go. I'll call you later, Dad."

Steve sighed. "Okay, kiddo, take care. I love you!"

You hummed back as you put the box down on the bed to turn off your cell phone and put it away in your pocket.

Your gaze circled the messy room for a moment. All the boxes filled with your belongings scattered around, and you wondered for a moment how they would look organized there, the posters, the decorations. Sighing softly, you made your way out behind the room of the monitor responsible for introducing the Xavier Institute to you.

Fortunately, you didn't have to look far. Natasha Romanoff was chatting with two other girls at the end of the female dormitory hallway and offered you a kind smile just before dismissing the girls when you reached them.

"Everything okay with your room, Rogers? "She asked, calling you by your last name, and you cleared your throat to say thank you.

"Yeah. And I actually prefer Stark." You blurted out, to which the girl raised an eyebrow. You didn't clarify why, and she didn't insist.

"All right, Stark. Let's begin with the dorm anyway, since most of us spend most of our time, especially the seniors, locked in here while we try to keep up with the classes the stricter professors give us." She leads off casually, walking further ahead. "Your room is 121, and mine is the last on the right. The blackboard on the side of each door is for identification and for cool messages, like Jean and her good morning messages. Or, Anna and her moody messages in response to that."

You chuckled short, looking back to see if you could identify the pictures of the said girls, and smiled when you saw Jean's one outlined 'Someday you'll go far" and the other door, who you assumed was Anna’s were written 'and I really hope you stay there’.

"They seem fun." You mutter to Nat who nods in agreement.

"You have no idea." She says mysteriously before gesturing to another wall. "Over there is our bulletin board. Everything relevant at the Institute gets notified here. Scheduling exams, club applications, official events, and so on. If you miss something and are selling something, you can put an ad here too. Oh, look at this, Peter is offering tutoring..."

"Can boys come in here?" You asked curiously, and Nat giggled.

"Officially, no." She retorted. "But no one's a snitch if you want to bring a boyfriend. The Parker boy sure didn't come in, he's not allowed anymore. He probably asked some girl to paste the poster here." Nat explained, pulling out one of the contact wires, and tucking it away in her pocket. "Come on, I'll take you to see the rest of the place."

The institute was huge as the application website said. Natasha took you to see everything from the main study building, labs and classrooms, to the gym and volleyball courts outside.

"We also have a hiking club, which does its trips through there all the way down to the bay." She informs you as you both reach the east side of the outside hall of the main building, pointing to the tall trees a short distance away. You see that there are markings at the entrance with symbols of that club. "They, like most clubs, are still open for applications if you have any interest."

You chuckle awkwardly. "Sounds fun, but I think I'll just focus on classes this year." You mutter and Nat shrugs her shoulders.

"it's up to you." She says. "If you change your mind, they'll reopen enrollment in the middle of the year, or of course, if you befriend the leader or offer to buy lunch for all the members. I've seen the last one happen firsthand." She comments with a wink.

Natasha introduces you lastly to the pools and then leads you to the entrance of the Institute.

"Do you have your schedule yet?" She asks, and you nod. "Well, it's the only fixed time besides curfew at 10 p.m. Don't let the Drax Guard catch you walking around outside of curfew, okay? He's not very sympathetic, and he always seems to be invisible, so it's impossible to tell where he's hiding waiting for us..." She counters, and you laugh softly at the indignant tone of voice. Nat looks around and nods to a few students who greet her before gesturing further ahead. "The bus stop is over there, those who decided not to stay in the dorm usually use the circular vans and show up here at class time. If you have the day off, you can take one of them to go into town, they are always around and a lot of people like to eat lunch outside of here. Are you 18 yet?"

"Yeah."

"Great, then you can sleep out without permission." She explains with a smile. "The underage students do it on the sly, and usually have to come back before their first class so they don't get spotted by Drax. Anyway, I think that's about it, do you have any questions?"

You lift your chin toward the corner. " The train station doesn't work anymore?"

Nat raises an eyebrow. " You know it there?"

You smile awkwardly, nodding. "Yeah, I used to live here when I was younger. I went to live in New York about five years ago when my dads got divorced."

Nat stares at you and then lets out a small exclamation. "Wait, you're part of the Stark family, from the south side? The former owners of the Power Plant?"

You shift the weight of your feet. "Yep, that' them." You agree clumsily. Nat chuckles.

"Wow, aren’t you guys like super rich?"

You laugh through your nose, scratching the back of your head. "Not anymore..."

Nat slaps her hand on her forehead softly. "Oh, shit, sorry. Of course! All that commotion after all. Your whole family left Westview for that, huh? Why did you come back?"

You clear your throat, looking away. "Look, maybe I should finish organizing my room, I still have to visit the counselor. But the tour was lovely, Natasha, thank you very much for that."

Nat hesitates, but seeing that you were uncomfortable with the questioning, she quickly nods and lets you go.

On the way to the dorms, you try not to think about your old life in Westview, but it is impossible not to.

–//–

Natasha didn't lie about the difficulty of the lessons at the Institute.

You would have thought it was because you were in your last year, but you saw younger students locked in the library with piles of books and articles on their desks when you went to get some, so you knew it must be standard teaching. It made sense, the Institute was a renowned institution throughout the United States.

Your curriculum, fortunately, was not so busy. Apart from the compulsory subjects of regular school and the chosen course, you had a lot of free time, especially in the afternoons. Too bad you spent most of this time studying and doing homework.

It had been almost a month since you had started your classes, and all you had done so far was stay in your room studying, not even visiting the old train station - which by now you knew had been decommissioned shortly after the power plant - or the rest of the city.

At least you were making friends. Peter Parker, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova were your closest colleagues. Yelena was your next-door neighbor, and on your first day she helped you with the locker room shower trick.

It was a funny situation actually. She was quite inquisitive, and definitely very comfortable with her own body. You left the shower stall in a towel and almost stumbled away when you found the girl leaning on the sink - completely naked - brushing her teeth.

And she stood there, saying nothing, watching you change.

"I like your tattoo." She declared suddenly, and it took you a few seconds to understand that it was with you.

"O-oh, thanks." You say clumsily, sticking your head through the hole in your shirt. "My dad would kill me if he found out though."

She laughs, spitting toothpaste into the sink and washing her mouth out before turning to you again. "You sneaked it out to make it?"

You hesitate, but then clear your throat, denying it. "Actually, no." You mutter. "My other dad took me to make it, for my sixteenth birthday. He wanted... something for me to remember him."

Yelena blinked in surprise, absorbing your confession. And then she grabbed the towel and covered her body. "It's a nice tattoo, he had good taste." She said gently before leaving the garment.

The next day, she sat at your table during breakfast. And during lunch. And the next day too, and the others as well.

You found out that Yelena was Natasha's adopted sister - and she was pleased to hear that you were adopted too - and despite her being a few months younger than Nat, they were both in their last year like you.

In the second week, Yelena was mumbling her way through her calculus homework and was approached by a boy from the next table over.

"I can help if you want." He offered gently, but her grimace widened.

"I don't need your help, Parker." She retorted annoyed, but he sighed.

"Come on Yelena, there's nothing wrong with needing help..."

But Yelena collected her things and left the table, and you were completely confused by the whole thing. The boy sighed again before leaning a little toward you.

"Sorry about that. I'm trying to convince her that there's no shame in needing tutoring." Informed the boy. With that, you exclaim softly.

"Oh, you must be Peter Parker! I saw no ad on the bulletin board."

He smiles. "Yeah, that's me. And you are?"

"Y/N Stark." You say. "If you're good at calculus, do you think you could help me with some of Mrs. Van Dyne's questions? I'm kind of stuck on her paper. I can buy you a snack in repay."

He chuckles. "Don't worry about it."

Peter quickly gathered his belongings and moved to your table, sitting down next to you.

Parker was great company, and he was brilliant. It was up to you to convince Yelena that there was nothing wrong with asking for help though. And with a hamburger and a casual, understanding attitude on the subject, you succeeded.

After that comes the adorable and disastrous Kate Bishop and her latent crush on Yelena - who is probably the only person who hasn't noticed yet.

Kate was one of the richest girls in school - you heard that her family had a security company and several deals with the city council - and she was quite popular. She was in the journalism club with Peter, and practiced archery as a hobby. She had a talent for getting into trouble but never faced any real consequences because her mother, the elegant Eleanor Bishop, was on the parents' council and made generous donations to the institute's funds.

You didn't have an opinion about Kate and didn't want to be swayed by school gossip, so when the girl - who occupied the locker next to yours - came over to greet you as you put your books away, you were nice.

"You're friends with Yelena Belova, right?" Kate tried to sound casual, but you could see the blatant curiosity in her eyes, which made you let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, kind of." You mumbled. Your vague answer made Kate hesitate.

"You're not dating her, are you?" she inquired and to that you chuckled, returning a physics book to your locker before turning your body to Kate.

"No?"

"Oh, great. Cool." She retorted relieved. "Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

You crossed your arms. "No, but I can tell her that you asked..."

"No!" Kate exclaims quickly, and you have trouble hiding your smile. She takes a deep breath, trying to disguise it. "It was just silly curiosity. I'm Kate Bishop, by the way. Yelena was my colleague in the archer club before she quit it and I'm just wondering why and.... damn it! I'm babbling again. You don't want to know this-"

You cut her off with a small laugh, "Don't worry, Kate. I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure." You said with a nod. "I can find out if Yelena is single, without mentioning any names."

Kate's eyes light up. "Really, you would do that?" She asks hopefully, and you smile gently.

"Sure, I'll catch up with you later." You inform her, closing your locker before leaving her.

You found out that Yelena didn't have a partner in a rather abrupt way. You looked for her around the school for a while after the last period and found her going over some exercises with Peter in the biology lab.

Professor Banner gave you a nod of greeting, turning his attention back to the papers he was reviewing, and you walked over to the workbench where your friends were.

"Hey, Belova!" You called out, taking the free stool on the other side of the table. The two of them looked at you. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Y/N."

"Are you single?"

She raised an eyebrow, and Peter couldn't hold back his laughter - getting elbowed for it. You looked at her curiously.

"Are you interested by any chance? I should warn you that I see you only as a friend..."

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, not me."

She narrows her eyes at you, resting her arms on the countertop. "Then who?"

You shrug. "It was just a curiosity."

Yelena doesn't seem to believe much, looking at you suspiciously. Peter laughs at her reaction.

"She's single, Y/N, partly because everyone in this school is only looking for sex-OUCH!" Peter's speech is interrupted by another hard elbow from the blonde. You stare at them in confusion, and Yelena huffs in irritation.

"You're a big mouth, aren't you, Parker?" She complains as the boy massages his rib.

"Sorry, I'm a little confused..." You mumble, and the two of them exchange glances. Yelena sighs loudly.

"Great, here goes." The blonde says, staring at you. "I haven't told this to anyone apart from my sister and this gossip monger here, and if you have a problem with this and say something stupid I will break your arm." She comments and you raise your eyebrows in shock. But Yelena softens her gaze, looking almost unsure. "It's been a few months since I found out I'm asexual."

You stare at her without knowing what to say, surprised by the sudden confession more than anything else. Yelena grimaces.

"Do you have a problem with that, Stark?" She questions determinedly, clenching one of her fists, and you laugh sheepishly.

"N-no, Yelena, of course not." You mutter quickly. "You know I'm queer too, right?"

"And that doesn't prevent anything." Yelena retorts. "A lot of people in the community discriminate against others."

You swallow dryly, sighing. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry if you've been through something like that." You say sincerely. "But know that I have no problem with your sexuality. And I'm honored that you trusted me to tell me."

Yelena smiles in appreciation, extending her closed fist for you to hit.

"I told you she was cool." Peter muttered but Yelena didn't seem too happy with him for sharing her secret. When they seemed about to get into a fight, you intervened.

"Anyway, are you aromantic too? Or are you up to date someone..."

Yelena laughed suspiciously. "I'm beginning to think you're hitting on me, Stark."

You rolled your eyes humorously. "I'm not going to say who asked, Yelena, there's no point. But just for the record, I'm sure a lot of people would be interested, besides being super pretty you're really cool."

Yelena rolls her eyes in embarrassment, and Peter makes a provocative mouth sound that almost gets him punched again. You chuckle.

"If the person doesn't care about sex, I'm in. If it's a girl of course." Yelena finally clarifies, and you hum in understanding.

"Fine, I'll let her know." You murmur mysteriously, and Yelena huffs impatiently wanting to know who it is, but you pull away from her hands with a laugh. "I'm going back to the dorm, want to watch a movie with me later?"

"Only if I get to choose." Yelena retorts and you shrug, but Peter complains.

"I don't want to watch anything scary!" He defends himself, but Yelena laughs, pushing her shoulders against him.

"And who says you're invited? It's the girls' dorm, big boy." Yelena reminded with a friendly teasing tone that you don't understand. Peter, surprisingly not bothering to miss the invitation, smiled almost proudly as he rolled his eyes, before turning his attention back to the question book. You put your hands in your pockets.

"All right, it'll just be the two of us then, Belova. See you later?" With Yelena's nod, you wave goodbye to them.

Your friends go back to studying, but before you leave the classroom, Professor Banner calls you over to her desk.

"I couldn't help overhearing the conversation, I do apologize..." He began by leaning over to get something from his drawer. You cleared your throat.

"That's not very polite, sir." You reminded, half worried about Yelena's exposure. But the man offered you a gentle smile, and from the drawer, he pulled out a flyer.

"Don't worry, Mrs.Stark, I haven't heard anything I didn't already imagine. After all, who would Yelena Belova have taken her doubts with if not an adult?"

You almost said 'google' but Bruce was looking at you so kindly that you didn't have the heart to do so. You smiled in return, accepting the paper he held out.

'Queer Alliance Group' was written in bright, colorful letters, with meeting times and the information that the club always had open membership. You chuckled half-heartedly.

"Wow, that's... wow." You didn't quite know how to define it. It sounds cool, but you still had a vision of the old, traditional Westview, and imagining an LGBT youth club in a small town like that was a bit difficult.

"We are no sports group, but we do some recreational activities. We mainly offer therapeutic support, in case you need someone to talk to. You and your friends would be welcome."

You tuck the folded paper away in your jacket pocket. " Thanks, Professor Banner. I'll think about it."

He smiled contentedly and nodded. Before you left, Bruce adjusted his jacket, and you could see the asexual flag brooch on his sweater. He gave you a wink when he noticed you looking, and you smiled before leaving the room.

–//–

You told Kate Bishop that Yelena was single on Thursday after PE. You had just finished using the showers, and Kate, who had the next period - arrived early in the locker room.

You were drying your hair with a towel and almost screamed in fright when the girl appeared in front of you without a blouse.

"Hey!" She greeted you excitedly. "Did you find out that information for me?" She asked like a secret agent, and you laughed nervously because you could see her breasts.

"I'd like to have that conversation with clothes on, please" You try but she grimaces.

"I just got out of archery practice, I need a shower..."

"God, I don't deserve this." You complain, sitting down on the stool to put on your shoes. Kate huffs anxiously, bypassing the row of lockers to approach you.

"Come on, Stark, just tell me. I've been waiting all week for this answer." She dramatizes making you laugh.

"She's single, but if you want something, you'll need to have a heart-to-heart with her." That's what you say to Kate, who stands thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Okay, I didn't expect that step." She says in a panic and you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

"You thought she'd be single and what, magically become your girlfriend?" You tease gently, and Kate blushes, crossing her arms.

"Maybe..." She mutters, getting another laugh out of you.

"Come on, Kate Bishop, I'm sure you've asked someone out before."

She grunts embarrassed. "Okay, first of all, guys do that. And I don't date them, so I have absolutely no idea how to ask anyone out. And girls? They are frightening. Too pretty or too sarky. And Yelena? God, she's both. She'll eat me alive if I even think of going near her..."

"I bet you'd like it if she ate you..." You joke but Kate lets out an indignant exclamation, slapping you on the shoulder that makes you laugh.

"You have to help me!"

"Put on a blouse first." You retort and despite rolling her eyes, she covers her breasts with one of her arms. You laugh. "Thanks, that's better."

Ignoring you, Kate asks, "Will you help me?"

To torment her, you make a thoughtful face the entire time you finish putting on your sneakers. "What's in it for me?"

"My eternal gratitude." She retorts.

You laugh. "Aren't you the sweetest, Miss Bishop?" You retort good-naturedly, getting up now that you were dressed. "I can't sell your eternal gratitude on eBay though."

She rolls her eyes. "I have money if you need it-"

"Jesus, what an idea Kate! Imagine how it would sound if you paid me to date, my friend!"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I would totally pay for Yelena to give me a chance-"

You laugh incredulously. "My god, you're a disaster. Tell you what, I'll think of a favor, and in the meantime, you sit down with me at breakfast and I'll officially introduce you to Yelena, what do you think?"

Kate hesitates, and you know it's because she sits at a table of nearly twenty people - the entire popular gang of this place - who would surely miss her. But her crush on Yelena speaks louder. She agrees almost immediately, and you wrinkle your nose at her expression.

"You're a cutie, Kate Bishop. I'm sure Yelena already noticed you." You say to her, pinching her nose in playfulness, and causing her to blush at the phrase. "See you around."

Easy as that, Kate has become your friend. The first day was a little strange because she didn't quite know how to act when sitting down, but once the social awkwardness was overcome, the three of you got into a very comfortable rhythm.

Yelena however seemed completely clueless that Kate wanted to date her, even though it was obvious to anyone.

On Friday of the last of August, you were putting your books away and Kate practically teleported into the locker next to yours.

"Tell me what I'm doing wrong!" She declared dramatically, and you chuckled without taking your eyes from checking your books.

"I'm going to need more context to answer this, sweetie."

She sighs loudly, her back pressed to the locker. "It's about Yelena, of course! I've done everything, she just doesn't notice me!"

"Everything? You told her you're interested and asked if she felt the same way?"

Kate crosses her arms. "Don't be ridiculous."

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "Seriously, Bishop, you amuse me. Keep thinking Yelena will read your mind, Peter and I have a great time watching you and your puppy dog eyes."

Kate grunted in embarrassment, moving away from the locker only to open the door with the intention of putting away her books.

But a flyer falls at her feet, and she bends down to pick it up.

With a dry laugh, she comments, "Great, my life is already a mess and they want to play tricks on me..."

You put your history book away, turning your face to your friend with curiosity at the complaint. "What's this?" You ask about the pamphlet.

She turns the paper over to you. "It's a silly first-year club, I didn't even know it still existed. I'm sure it's a prank. What a jerk thing to do..." Kate grumbled annoyed, crumpling the paper and storing it in the pocket of the flimsy jacket on her arms before starting to put the books away in her own closet. She went back to talking about Yelena, but you weren't paying attention.

You looked around and noticed two clearly first-year girls standing at the corner of the hallway looking at you. As soon as Kate crumpled the paper, they made faces of disappointment, and once they noticed you were looking, they widened their eyes and tried to cover it up, before practically running out of the hallway.

"Hey, Kate, let me take a look at that flyer again?" You interrupt her - she doesn't mind.

Once you have the crumpled poster back in hand, she comments:

"I think it used to be a mix of science group and biker gang, but nobody ever really talked about it."

You force a smile, looking away from your friend. "And what else do you know about them?"

She shrugs. "Not much, as I said, I didn't even think it existed anymore. It was one of the banned clubs when that accident at the dam happened."

You gasp slightly. "What accident at the dam?"

Kate smiles sadly. "I don't know much about it, it was my freshman year so I didn't know the kid. But he was pretty popular here, he was on the running team. You've never seen the memorial?"

You deny it with your head. Kate sighs, putting away the last book before beckoning you to follow her.

She leads you outside through the emergency exit, into the outer gardens. And stops in front of a small sign at the entrance to the gym. It was completely vandalized, so you never noticed what was written beyond the graffiti before.

"Here, it was a very sad thing when it happened. The dean even made a speech because the kid was his stepson." Narrated Kate, pointing to the stone. "He was one of the founders of that club, I guess, so I didn't imagine they would go on without him."

You clear your throat so as not to show any kind of emotion in your voice. "Yeah, that's not very common."

Kate doesn't notice, putting her hand in her pockets. "Anyway, I'm sure it was just some prank. I never signed up for the Mystery Club, and honestly, I have enough trouble already."

You force a smile at her, and Kate exclaims when your cell phone alarm rings.

"Shit! I totally forgot I have a dinner date with my mom and my new idiot stepdad. Wish me luck!" She quickly says goodbye, kissing your cheek before running towards the dorms.

You bend down, to get some of the dust collecting on the iron plate stuck in the grass. Your fingers trace the graffiti on the small photo next to the tribute message.

"Mustache would have suited you, Pietro." You whisper sadly before standing up.

–//–

Your determination to find out more about the mystery club dragged on for the rest of the week.

Since you didn't know many people at school, you couldn't just ask anyone about it. Imagining the approach made you laugh.

Hey, do you know anything about the secret club founded by the boy who died in the dam about three years ago?

Scary, honestly.

Peter and Kate, having been first-years at the time the club closed, knew no more than what you could find out on the Internet about the tragic accident in Westview. ‘A 15-year-old boy drowns in a local dam during a school outing. Grieving neighborhood, all feelings with Dean Charles Xavier over the loss of his stepson.’

Flipping through the news made your stomach turn, so you risked asking Yelena, who didn't want to talk about it.

In fact, she was angry with you. "Why are you asking about this?"

You swallowed dryly, clumsily. "I just wanted to know a little more about how it was..."

"It was fucking horrible, Y/N, that's how it was!" She retorted angrily, closing the locker tightly.

She came to apologize the next day, regretting that she had yelled. She sat down next to you and pulled out of her pocket an old, crumpled photo.

"I found this in some locked boxes yesterday after I lost my temper with you. Sorry again." She mutters, pointing to the photo. "His name was Pietro Maximoff, he joined on a running scholarship here, and he was my best friend."

You swallowed dryly, picking up the photograph. Yelena looked away, at the green field in front of her where besides the team's people training, some people were practicing running.

The photo is full of people you know and doesn't know - some colleagues you've seen in the hall, Natasha with a longer hairstyle, and Pietro with his arms around Yelena as if he were climbing on top of her. Everyone looks so happy.

"The Dean told everyone we were on an official science club activity, an exploration tour. But that's bullshit." Yelena counters with a sad laugh, "It was a stupid party, with stupid people, and everything was so stupidly fun that nobody cared how much alcohol was hidden in the drinks."

You swallowed dryly, staring at Yelena. "Weren't you all 15 years old?"

She gave another wry laugh, spreading her own legs wide. "As if that ever stops anyone." She retorted upset. " Either way, there were older people, from the later years. That's why Pietro wanted to go so badly. He wanted to get in with the seniors, to make the captain of the team. I just wanted Natasha not to think I was a loser."

"Nat doesn't think that." You assure her, and Yelena smiles sadly, nodding in appreciation.

She sighs lightly. "One minute, we're all dancing and laughing. And Pietro is gone for two seconds, and the next thing I know, the police are on the spot, organizing a search inside the dam for my friend's body." Yelena fell silent, sobbing, and you put an arm around her.

"I'm really sorry, Yelena." You say to her, hiding your own tears. "I'm so sorry for asking."

She gives a tearful laugh, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I know you didn't mean any harm."

Once she has calmed down, you pull your arm away to return the photo, but she refuses.

"You can keep it."

You frown. "But he was important to you."

She smiles, looking away. "Pietro used to tell me about a friend who left Westview before he joined the Institute. Someone he loved, and missed dearly, and who was smart enough to have joined that school along with him. Someone who started the Mystery club at Westview elementary school."

You swallowed dryly, looking away from the photo, Pietro Maximoff's smiling face stared back at you.

"What else did he say?" You asked with emotion. Yelena sighed.

"That he was very sad to lose you and his mother in the same period." At Yelena's speech, you sniffled, nodding in agreement. "But he also said he never blamed you for leaving, you know?"

You laugh in disbelief, wiping your face on the sleeve of your blouse. "Hard to believe that one, Lena. And honestly, I would have understood if he hated me. My parents dragged me out of this town in a hurry, and I couldn't even stay for the memorial."

Yelena shakes her head. "Y/N, you were a child. You couldn't stay if your parents decided you wouldn't." She reasons, and you smile sadly.

"It doesn't matter, Yelena." You retort. "He needed me here. They both did."

Yelena swallows dryly but sighs in defeat afterward. She waits a moment to speak again.

"I know you probably think he hated you for leaving, but Pietro told me he understood." She continues. "He really understood, Y/N. He said that if there was a chance to heal your father, and if the chance was outside the pollution of the power plant, that he understood the rush. He would have chosen to do the same for his mom if there was time."

You sigh in emotion, trying to control your tears.

"Thank you Yelena." You say sincerely, being able to feel at least some of the guilt you have carried for so long leave your back. Pietro had no way to say he forgave you for leaving, so Yelena's words would have to serve as some consolation.

"Don't mention it." Yelena retorts with a smile.

You watch the sunset begin to happen, and it is beautiful from the bleachers. The runners are wrapping up their training, and Yelena takes her gaze from the scenery to you.

"After Pietro left, the club was banned, and the gang drifted apart." She recounts. "If someone reactivated it, none of the old members are part of it."

You blink at the information and nod in appreciation afterward. You put the photograph away in your pocket, and stand up.

"You should talk to her, Y/N." Yelena says before you leave, and you swallow dryly because you know exactly who she is talking about just by her expression.

You put your hands in your pockets and give an awkward laugh.

"I was kind of hoping to find her here." You say, and Yelena smiles sadly.

"Sorry, you were late." Yelena retorts. "Wanda was expelled last year."

You widen your eyes slightly, more impressed than anything. "Shit, what did she do?"

Yelena shrugs her shoulders getting up. "The question is what she didn't do..."

You chuckle. "My god?"

Yelena grins as she shakes the dust off her pants and approaches you, patting you on the shoulder to get you to follow her.

"Where do I start? Property damage, or maybe that time she told counselor Harkness to stop being a two-faced bitch in the middle of the hallway..."

–//–

So far, you had little information about the Mystery Club.

It was reactivated in secret by someone - Yelena didn't think it was any of its former veteran members, but that didn't make much sense to you. Why would someone who had no contact at all - like this year's first-years - be interested in a club banned from the school after a horrible accident?

But when you looked for Yelena's old friends - the original gang as she wrote behind the photograph - none of them seemed to have the profile to establish a secret club.

Pietro, obviously, wasn't. Yelena was beyond the options as well, the whole thing was too sad for her. Natasha had too many activities occupying her schedule. Carol Danvers had the necessary popularity, but she had just been promoted to team captain, so she wouldn't have time, and it wouldn't make sense to risk her position for a banned club. Her girlfriend Maria Rambeau was known for following the moral code of ethics of the school to the letter, as well as being class president and having the perfect resume. She would not risk tarnishing her record for this. Clint Barton and Maria Hill had the profile of troublemakers, but they were too antisocial to start something like this.

Wanda was no longer part of the school. Still, part of you knows that only she would have the audacity.

It had been exactly one month since you had been at the institute, and your search had come to a dead end. You needed more information to continue, and your remaining option was to approach the girls you believed had left the flyer in Kate Bishop's locker.

They were definitely avoiding you because, for days, you didn't see them around. But finally, after sneaking into the theater during rehearsal, you found them.

"Don't say anything and she'll go away."

You laughed at the smaller girl's whisper. "I can hear you, you know." You told them.

"Pretend you are not seeing her." The other whispered back, but you grimaced, putting your hands in your pockets as you approached them.

"Well, Romeo and Juliet, I wonder if we could have a chat?" You asked, teasing about the rehearsal robes and both of them sighed before the smaller one retorted you:

"I don't know what you think you saw, but it's not what you think!" She declares. You raise an eyebrow.

"I saw two brats trying to play a trick on my friend."

The taller one lets out an exclamation. "It wasn't a prank! Shit, Kamala, she thought it was a prank! That's why she crumpled up the invitation and-"

"America, stop talking!" Kamala elbowed her friend, but you were smiling.

You looked around at the rest of the drama group that was leaving the place at the end of class and lowered your tone.

"If you don't want me to turn this flyer and your name into the principal, you will answer my questions, okay?" You say, and they sigh in defeat, nodding. You laugh lightly. "Don't look so sad, I promise I'm great at keeping secrets. Definitely better than you guys. Come on, let's go for a walk."

America and Kamala follow you to the parking area, the emptiest space in the Institute. They look equally dissatisfied.

"All right, I want to know who reactivated the club."

The girls widen their gazes in surprise at the straight question, and it is Kamala who babbles:

"W-we don't know that!" She says. "We don't know members of different levels. Everyone gets an invitation in the locker, and then the missions-"

"Missions?" You interrupt curiously, and America sighs.

"It's like a scouting club. We get missions and rewards."

You cross your arms. "Then why all the secrecy?"

Kamala and America laugh, shrugging. "Because it's fun." They answer together, you laugh impressed. They are children. Still, the story is weird.

America sighs. "Look, everything in this place is over-supervised. It's nice to have something that doesn't have to go through dozens of student council approvals or reviews."

"Yeah, the missions are fun." Kamala adds. "The Dean would never let us go camping to see a solstice or make records of the wild animals in the local Forest. He would keep everyone locked up in that building if he could."

"We just do cool stuff in nature and take pictures of the local town legends. It's harmless. Can you please not rat us out?" America asked making you smile.

"I still have another question." You retort, raising a finger. "There's nothing wrong with the activities you talked about, but I would be surprised if a 17-year-old had any interest in them. Why recruit Kate?"

They shrug. "We just follow our mission."

You huff softly. "You said they get a mission invitation, can I see it?"

Kamala and America exchange hesitant glances, but the taller one nods to the other. Soon, Kamala pulls her backpack forward and rummages through her materials for a moment. Then she takes out a folded card and hands it to you.

The typed handwriting makes you smile. "Lovely, really. Quite rustic." You scoff managing to get a roll of the eyes from both of them. On the paper, it reads simply recruitment: Katherine Bishop, Third Year.

"Can we go now?" Kamala asks, but you deny it with your head.

"What is the reward for recruitment?" You question. America bites the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.

"I think it's a rated paper of the chosen subject." She confesses and you let out a surprised exclamation.

"Harmless you said, huh?" you comment, ignoring Kamala elbowing America. You tuck the invitation away in your pocket. "I'll keep this, girls, thank you very much."

"But-"

"And it's a pleasure to officially meet you two. I am Y/N Stark, original founder of the Mystery Club." You declare, patting each shoulder of the girls in shock before walking past them.

You make your way over to the pair smoking in a secluded area of the parking lot. Colleagues you haven't had a chance to talk to yet.

"Are you lost, Stark? The library is the other way." The rude teasing almost intimidated you to turn on your heels and head back inside, but Clint Barton might be tall but he wasn't two. Although, Maria Hill giggled and had muscles exposed by her tank top that made you swallow dryly.

"I was just chatting with those first years." You start clumsily, shifting the weight of your feet. "Funny story actually, they put up a flyer-"

"Touching, really." Clint cuts in impatiently, wafting a little smoke forward. "Why don't you share that with someone who actually wants to hear you? Like your angry friend or that tranny?" He mocks with a chuckle, but you frown in confusion and Maria clears her throat.

"Come on Clint, no need to get personal." Murmurs the girl, but the boy just rolls his eyes, taking a long drag.

You step forward. "What are you talking about?"

Your question makes Clint laugh, tilting his head as he tosses the smoke upward. Away from Maria, not you.

"Shit, I forgot you're new. She didn't even watch last year's nonsense, Hill." Commented the boy. Maria was no longer smiling, clearly uncomfortable with her friend's posture. Clint puffed again. "I'm talking about that little faggot Parker, of course. Although he can't be gay, right? He's a girl. I don't know how that shit works."

You were in shock at the complete offensiveness. You didn't know about Peter's transition of course, he had known you for less than a month and probably had no reason to tell you.

Clint laughed, shrugging at Mary's grumpy expression and you swallowed dryly.

"Don't make fun of my friend, Barton." You warned, he laughed, putting out his cigarette on the wall.

"Sure, I won't bother that She-male if she stays away from me!"

If there's one thing Steve Rogers has taught you, it's that violence is never the way. He also taught you how to throw a good right jab.

And you only stopped when your hand was bleeding, and someone pulled you around the waist.

Maria was dragging Clint away from you, so who was-

"What a way to see you again, kotenok." Wanda panted softly in your ear.

You shuddered, the anger completely dissipating. She helped you stand up straight, and she was standing right there in front of you. You almost couldn't believe it.

"Wanda, what are you...?"

But she was looking behind you, and she grimaces at Barton's bloodied face. And then she looks back to where the Drax security guard and some students who saw the fight from the race track start pointing.

"Come on Wanda, she'll be expelled if they catch her here." Maria warns and the brunette in front of you doesn't wait, grabbing your uninjured hand and pulling you away.

Ignoring your shock or the adrenaline coursing through your veins, Wanda opens the door of a pickup truck and pushes you inside. She climbs into the driver's seat, wasting no time in starting up.

You see in the rearview mirror the pool of blood on the ground where Clint's head was and gasp slightly, trying to stop shaking and keep the tears of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Wanda starts the car, and the parking lot and the Institute are left behind.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Mystery Club

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anxiously-sidequesting · 7 months

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Okay I'm so sorry cuz, not to post two things literally minutes apart, but I just got some inspiration for a post that's been sitting in my drafts for like 5 months now so. I want you Girlies to enjoy some Diviner headcanons I came up with

Storm wizards can visibly bristle. You know how like when your hair stands on end for any varying reasons (static shock, fear, the cold), well Storm wizards can just do this whenever. Excitement, anger, shock, etc., it can make their hair puff up and out like a dandelion. It's cute shut up

Storm wizards are physically more resistant to hearing loss (tinnitus) than any other type of wizard, but ironically enough they're the most likely to suffer from it when they're older. Along with spells of crashing storms and roaring waves they have to endure whenever they use their magic, it's common for Storm wizards to go into constructive work as adults; which involves drills and shit. A large percentage of diviners have partial or total hearing loss when they're nearing their elder years

As mentioned above, Storm wizards typically invest their time in work that involves building something in some way. Architects, plumbers, construction workers, inventors, even woodworking are jobs that you'll find are mostly Storm dominated. Due to their skill, creativity, and interest in that field they're often sought out and they often apply when they're of age

Funny enough they're paired with their magical opposite, Myth wizards, when it comes to certain things because they're also good at creating things for some reason(?). Myth wizards typically create things like art, so you'll see Myth wizards being authors, movie and play directors, performers, song writers, etc. Whether they need props for their shows or some Diviner thinks they can just do it better than a Myth wizard they usually find themselves together in a professional setting. Sparks fly

Storm wizards typically have incredible vocal range and are able to do really cool things with their voices. Ventriloquism, since they're able to throw their voice around. Mimicking other people's voices and even animal sounds with an eerie accuracy and some are even very good singers. (I'm pulling this from the website where it says that storm wizards use their voices to charm storm creatures into helping them. and also the Sirens exist)

Storm wizards are also just kinda loud. They shout and yell a lot even when they don't have to. They're banned from libraries /j

If their magic is strong enough, Diviners can sense, smell, and even taste storms miles away from when they hit. Not all of them can do this but it's very fortunate to have a friend go "oh yeah we're gonna have a tornado in a couple of hours" even if they were warned on the weather for cats beforehand

(((i was gonna say that they would be good hypnotists because that sounds metal as fuck and it seems like they have that kind of power anyway. but im afraid im making them too OP as it is so this is just kinda up in the air)))

Diviners get zoomies. It's common for them to be very "flighty" in general but when they get that random burst of energy or when they just feel super happy or euphoric for some reason they are flipping off walls man. Running around and squirming and shit. Menaces

#sorry if i really did make them too op LMAO #next post about them ill try to come up with weaknesses and setbacks they have so i can balance it out #wizard101 #w101 #wiz101 #text posts

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chaisshitposts · 6 months

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Hiii Chai,

Recently I came across a video gamma mindset technique which is mainly to generate gamma waves within 2 minutes. The person who was doing was able to do that post doing the pysch k posture. Can you do a research about this why bcoz gamma waves are common in Buddhist monks as they are deep meditators and it will be generated while having OBE like astral projection or lucid dreams. Ia there any relation between psych k and gamma waves, I was amazed

Thank you love!

I'll be honest, I had no idea what some of this meant so I had to Google those first— but I did some research as you've asked -> I had no idea what gamma waves involved but apparently they're the fastest brain waves that occur when conscious and alert. The website linked here states that, "Gamma brain waves have the highest frequency among all brain waves. They are associated with high levels of thought and focus. They can have different effects depending on their levels in your brain:‌

If your brain produces high levels of gamma waves, you tend to be happier and more receptive. You may also have a higher intelligence quotient or IQ and better concentration.

If your brain produces low levels of gamma waves, you may develop learning and memory problems. You may experience lower concentration, attention span, and mental ability. Lower levels of gamma waves can even lead to learning disabilities and mental disorders."

That same website then goes on to list off various benefits that come from gamma waves, "‌Gamma waves are associated with higher brain functions like cognition and memory. A recent study has shown that gamma waves can improve your working memory.

Studies have also revealed that increased gamma brain wave activity can help you achieve the highest concentration levels. Gamma waves can also promote higher states of awareness and increased brain function during meditation. ‌

Gamma waves have the following benefits:

They can improve your cognition and problem-solving ability

They help you with information processing

They can improve your memory

They can help increase your attention span

They can increase your awareness and mindfulness

They may boost your brain’s immunity and function.

Being the curious bee I am, I went on YouTube and decided to see if there was anyway to activate gamma waves— took me a couple minutes before I stumbled on the 'Gamma Mindset.' The dude talked like a salesman but fortunately he offers a free 'masterclass' where ya sign up with an email and name. Sooooo, I got it, and in the 'masterclass' it includes a 40 minute video. Naturally, I started watching it, and he does muscle testing of different statements and then he says he's going to give the patient the Gamma Mindset technique— guess what it was? Psych-K but while lying down.

🧎I already knew that Psych-K was the whole brain state but I had no idea that it also amped up gamma waves in our brains which could explain why it works so fast to subconsciously reprogram.

I always encourage everyone to do their own research! However, based on my research— it seems that Gamma Waves are produced through doing Psych-K aka the whole brain state posture.

#— chai's asks. !! ~#— anonnie. !! ~

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 6 months

Note

the Toyota Yaris is my babygirl... (I have a 2002 one which I named Tilly)

can I learn some more about my car maybe?

Call yourself Dr. Pepper because you can!

I have made a helpful diagram to illustrate.

Very happy someone asked about the car me dad was gonna buy, so I get to show its funky optical-illusion digidash that, through some magic I must say still eludes me, is made to look a lot further than it is so your eyes don't have to refocus to glance at it.

And I know what you're thinking - "Wow, digidashes are so cool, if only there was a website that collected them all" and my dear where do you think I got this image from? ;) But there's another cool thing about this image, speaking of it - what's with the coordinates in the lower display? Well it turns out that's why that button at the bottom right says "NAVI" above it - for the low low price of an absolute fucking fortune that it seems no one was willing to pay you could get your Yaris fitted with a little underseat satellite navigation unit that fed off map CDs (because people who say things were better back in the day just don't remember the details that well) and gave you directions in return!

"But wait", I hope and pray you're thinking so I get to do the reveal, "where's the screen then?" Well it's right there! What more screen do you need to be given a turn and a distance?

And that's not even all the cool tech that the Yaris ever got! In 2004, they made a special version called "Yaris Blue", available in blue, blue and blue, which offered steering wheel controls and what color was that tooth again ah right Bluetooth!

Hm. I wonder what website this image came from. Guess we'll never know. Anyway, imagine life in 2004 with a decked out Yaris: electric windows, a sunroof, Bluetooth and satnav, a wicked digidash... what else did you need? Hell, what else do you need today? Maybe a bit of space, but that was taken care of by the Yaris Verso that was introduced alongside it a couple years later! It married Toyota reliability and quality with a surprisingly spacious mini-MPV body style, with the only problem of being phantasmagorically ugly.

yeah. I don't think even in Japan you couldn't find one that looks decent.

Hm. I'm gonna need to sample the public on this one, but the fact that they call it Fun Cargo there may risk swaying me over.

They also did other fun things with the Mk1 Yaris in Japan, like calling it Vitz, giving it a turbo version because of COURSE, and making it one of Gran Turismo's most famous surprise win cars. You know how Gran Turismo has made many people, including some of y'all, fall in love with some cars? Yeah. I suspect it's done the opposite here. It is worth noting, here, that Gran Turismo random car prizes were not influenced by what cars you already had. Do you see where I am going with this.

youtube

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

#one thing I have noticed about these though is many of them seem to have door handle issues #they just stay pulled up instead of being flush with the body as they should #hopefully yours is okay on that front #toyota yaris

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notinthislife50 · 3 months

Text

Chapter 49

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

"Hey Garth," Sam answered his phone, rousing you from your sleep. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, wrapping your hands around Dean. And groggily greeted him "hey."

Dean, smiling at you through the rearview mirror, squeezed one of your arms. "Hey, you sleep okay?"

"Mhmmm," you hummed in response, turning your attention to Sam, who had just hung up. "What's up with Garth?"

"It's close, Farmington Hills, Michigan. Dude got ripped limb from limb inside his locked apartment," Sam confirmed.

"Well, that's not good," Dean remarked.

As the three of you approached the sheriff, Sam introduced the group. "FBI? You guys are quick. Haven't even got the body out yet," the sheriff replied.

"Well, the FBI is all work and no play," Dean glared at Sam.

"Alright Jack, calm down," you elbowed Dean. "You know, why don't you give my partners the tour while I look around?"

"You sure you don't need help?" Dean called from behind you.

"I work better on my own," you shouted back.

In the kitchen, you pulled out your EMF reader, finding nothing. Soon, you rejoined the guys.

"Fortunately, we got a real lead off his cell phone," the sheriff said. "An accountant, also in his 30s, also lives alone."

"How is he a lead?" Sam looked confused.

"The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird."

"Weird how?" you asked.

"You shall bleed for your crimes against us," the sheriff quoted. "And, this beauty I am a mage. I will destroy you. These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning."

"Well, we're gonna need to take the first crack at the suspect," Dean confirmed.

"It's your world," the sheriff replied.

"Lance Jacobsen? We're with the FBI," Dean stated as the three of you entered the interview room.

"The FBI? I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe Ed's dead," Lance broke down.

"Lance, just breathe. You're fine," you comforted him. "We just need to ask you a few questions. Try to calm down."

"We want to know about the texts you sent Ed last night," Dean questioned.

"I told them when they brought me in those texts weren't from me. I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me," Lance sobbed.

"Did you really think that sentence was gonna clear things up?" Dean asked, perplexed.

"I'm sorry. This is all a big misunderstanding. Those text messages were from Greyfox the Mystic to Thargrim the Difficult. Our characters in Moondoor. Moondoor is a game that Ed and I play."

"You're Larpers?" you asked excitedly.

"Yeah, we play Moondoor every other weekend at Heritage Park. All the info about it is on our website," Lance smiled slightly at you.

"You guys have a website?" Dean asked, looking at you.

"Yeah, one of the players designed it. If you log onto the site, they should have posted pictures from last night's feast. I was there all night," Lance confirmed.

"What does any of this have to do with the texts?" Sam asked, growing impatient.

"I play a character named Greyfox the Mystic. I'm a very, very powerful mage in the game. Ed was Thargrim the Difficult of the Elder Forest, son of Hargrim and Bouphin, he was Lancelot to my Merlin," Lance explained, breaking down again.

"Well, if you guys were so tight, then why the threatening messages?" Dean inquired, nodding his head in confusion, when he saw the smile on your face.

"We were named to the queen's honor guard, in anticipation of the coming Battle of Kingdoms this weekend. I thought he broke protocol, so I called Ed after game hours and accused him of cheating, and then I challenged him to a duel."

"A duel?" Sam said, not believing what he was hearing.

"Wands and swords at dawn," Lance nodded.

"Now, when you say wands, do you mean magic wands?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

"No. Un-magic wands, Agent. Because what I want in a duel is an un-magic wand. Yes, fake wands. It's a game. I can't believe it. Oh, ye Gods, Thargrim the Difficult has fallen," Lance began sobbing.

"Hang in there, Lance," you patted his shoulder. "We will find out who did this."

The three of you left the interview room.

"So? Do you believe in Dungeons & Dragons?" Sam scoffed.

"Those weren't crocodile tears, Sam. That's not our guy," you said confidently.

"So what are we looking at?" Sam asked.

"You saw the chain mail. This could be Fifty Shades of Greyfox for all we know," Dean smirked, winking at you.

And you blushed, smiling at him. "That's a LARPing experience I wouldn't mind trying."

"Dear god," Sam groaned.

"All right, well, let's check out the Moondoor site, and see if Lance's story checks out," you smiled.

"Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game," you grinned, leaning back in the chair.

"You sound like you know all about this," Sam accused.

"Well, Sammy, I do," you said proudly.

"We definitely need to get out more," Dean groaned, causing you to slap him on the shoulder. "And how do you know all about this?"

Before you could answer, Sam had clicked on the Picture Gallery where Lance appears dressed in costume and holding a tankard.

"There' s our guy," Sam confirmed.

"It actually looks kind of awesome," Dean grinned.

"It really is," you laughed.

"All right, there's a video," Sam rolled his eyes at you both.

Sam clicked on the video, but called out in shock when he saw the woman on the screen. "Wait, is that?"

"Queen of the moor, Charlie," you announced proudly, cutting him off.

"Wait, you knew about this? She said not to talk to her?" Dean sounded hurt.

"Yes, we came across each other in World of Warcraft. I told you I was playing with her," you tried to explain.

"Wait, so Charles the Warlock is Charlie, Charlie?" Dean finally caught on.

"Yes," you laughed.

You watched in sadness as the coroner wheeled Lance's body away.

"You're gonna want to see this," the sheriff pointed, indicating for you to follow him.

You all watched in disbelief as Lance coughed up blood and died in the interview room.

"God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer," the sheriff looked disgusted, making you angry. Dean pulled you into him.

"He isn't worth it," he soothed.

“There. See that?” Sam rewound the video, pointing at Lance's tattoo " Same as Ed’s, You recognize it from anything?

“Aside from the mark of the creepy here, the only thing these guys have in common is LARPing.” Dean shook his head defeated.

“Lucky for us, we know the queen.” you sadly smiled.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @my-obsession-spn @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @spnbaby-67

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obsidiancreates · 3 months

Text

Why Bounce Around To The Same Damn Song (Part 1)

(Another Henry Revealed As Asshole fic but Real Psychic Shawn flavored this time)

“Whoa, dude, stop here.”

“What?! Shawn, the Arby’s closes in like, fifteen minutes!”

“What? Since when does Arby’s close in the middle of the day?”

“I don’t know!”

“Just- pull over, man. I’m getting a vibe.”

Gus pulls The Blueberry over, parking in front of a set of small, run-down shops under apartment buildings. He peers around Shawn’s head and reads the sign. Miss Ivana’s Nirvana. “A psychic shop?”

“Yeah.” Shawn tries to look through the curtains of the window. “I feel like I should go in there, man.”

“You’re already psychic, why would you need a reading?”

“I’m not… sure.” Shawn tilts his head, squinting. He’s still not great with figuring out what the feelings-only parts of his abilities are. They’re a lot more complicated than picking out details in a shaky vision, or catching hidden meanings in words, or even catching snippets of another person’s thoughts- which he’s also not great at, yet, but he’s good enough to know Jules is just being nice when she says Buzz’s wife’s homemade tapioca is good. He didn’t know someone could gag so intensely in their mind without it showing on their face.

The feelings-only are different. It’s like when his ADHD acts up and makes him forget why he entered a room, or where he put something he was just holding, or the thing Gus told him was really important to remember before talking to someone he probably shouldn’t be talking to. He knows something is just there, just out of reach of his comprehension, and it’s almost like a physical, tangible blockage that he could potentially push away but he just can’t quite get the right footing.

“Maybe she’s a fraud who needs exposing? You still can’t talk to ghosts, right?”

“Still not even sure if they exist, Gus. All those websites you send me say different things. Plus, I think if spirits really existed and could demand revenge on their behalf there’d be a lot less white people in the world.”

Gus nods. “Alright, but make it fast, or I’m leaving you here.”

“Fast. Got it.”

Shawn steps out of the car and opens the shop door. It’s dimly lit, cluttered, and there’s a section with big velvet curtains and a table covered in classic fortune-telling props. The air smells like incense and sage, making him cough a little.

“Welcome to my Nirvana,” a young blond woman says in a thick non-specific Eastern European accent, sweeping otherwise soundlessly out from behind a shelf cluttered with crystals. “You are looking for something.”

“Yeah. Your real accent.” Shawn angles his head at her with a disappointed look.

She straightens up, her incredibly numerous amounts of jewelry clanking together like she’s a windchime. “How’d you do that?”

He brings a hand up to his head. “I’m a psychic detective. You can take your pick on which of those told me the accent was fake.”

It was the psychic part.

“So… what? Are you scoping out the competition?” She crosses her arms. “Because I am not packing up shop. This is the first time I’ve made a steady living from this, you know.”

“Look, honestly I don’t know what I’m doing here either. I got a psychic vibe while driving by and now my buddy is about to abandon me so he can go get at least five meat-piled sandwiches for half off, and I can’t even blame him!” Shawn looks around. “It’s not like I don’t have crystals like these, or tried this uh… burning stuff.”

“Incense.” Ivana raises an eyebrow. “What, are you new to being psychic?”

“No! … Maybe. Are you?”

“I’ve had the gift as long as I can remember.” She sits down at the table. “Now are you gonna buy anything, or are you just going to stand there making my shop smell like Axe deodorant?”

“For your information, it’s Axe body spray. And you call yourself psychic.” He scoffs. But that twists something in his gut, his voicing doubt. It feels… bad.

“You’re the one using his hand to convince me you can hear the spirits.”

“So there are spirits.”

“Duh? Did you come in here just to learn how to fake it better?”

“Do you think I’m faking?”

“Maybe.”

“No you don’t.”

“If I think you’re real then you should know I am too.”

“... Fair.” Shawn looks out the door to see Gus literally pulling away. “Wh- Gus!”

“I saw that coming.”

“And you didn’t warn me, wh- I was looking forward to those sandwiches! Man… so much for helping a fellow psychic out.”

“You’re like, ten years older than me. You should’ve been able to see it.”

“Okay first of all, there’s no way I’m ten years older than you. Second of all, I… am working on the future-seeing thing, still.”

Ivana leans forward, resting her elbows heavily on her table. “You have a very bright presence, for being so annoying and childish.”

“Thank you. It’s because my hair is a blessing.”

“No… it’s because you carry the gratitude of many.” Her eyes trail over Shawn, unfocused and glassy. “Why’re you here?”

Shawn steps back. That look is really unnerving. He hopes he doesn’t look like that when he’s analyzing people. “Because my partner just drove off without me, and I don’t want to walk anywhere.”

Ivana rolls her eyes. “Come here. I’m going to do a tarot reading for you.”

“Uhhh, no. No, I don’t do that stuff.”

“You’re a psychic who doesn’t do tarot?”

“No, I do not! Or crystal balls, unless I think the client will pay extra for that. Then I have five.”

“Sit down and pick a card.” She says it so forcefully that Shawn just obeys- because a psychic pull told him too, and definitely not because he was intimidated by for a second. Not at all. He goes to pick one- and finds himself picking three, leaving them face-down, knowing how this is meant to go even though he’s never done this before.

She flips the one on Shawn’s left over first. “Do you know the meanings?”

Shawn actually thinks he does. He doesn’t want to. “Uh, no.”

“So that’s why you’re here. You’re denying something that the spirits wish you weren’t. This is The Emperor, reversed. Someone in authority, abusing that authority.”

“No, I don’t think so. The Chief is actually very lenient with us.” He knows it’s not talking about The Chief. Or Lassie. Or even the Psych office landlord who keeps trying to raise their rent before Shawn reminds him that more than half his properties aren’t up to code and Shawn can prove it if he has to.

“This card is showing us something from the past, something already done. What was. The next to are what to do, and what to avoid.” Ivana flips over the middle card. “The Three of Cups.”

“That one’s not so bad.” He sees images of him and Gus getting tacos together, him bringing Jules a smoothie, him breaking into Lassie’s house to restock the man’s peanut butter because he always forgets to and Shawn wants a reliable store of PB in every house he regularly infiltrates, dammit. “It’s uh, quality time, right? With people I care about.”

It doesn’t escape his notice that someone is missing from those visions.

“Now I’m starting to believe you.” Ivana flips the last one over. “The Six of Swords, reversed.”

Shawn laughs, even as something twists in his gut and squeezes in his chest. “That one’s a mistake.”

“It’s advice. You’re being warned not to leave something big in your life unresolved.”

“Yeah, I got that. But uh, it’d sort of ruin… everything, so I think I’m going to leave now.” He gets up. “And I’m-I’m sure yours and the… spirits, intentions are good, but there’s no way in hell I’m following that advice.”

Ivana looks at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“For once, yes.” Shawn turns, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking to the door. He freezes just before opening it, sucking in a sharp breath as his hands fly to his head.

Gus is ten years old, listening to Shawn complain about something Henry did. Gus is nodding, listening, but Shawn hears him think ‘There’s no way it’s that bad.’

Mrs. Guster stands in the doorway, talking to Henry, while five-year-old Shawn and Gus play in the living room. “Now I’ve heard around town about your… unusual way of raising your son, and I want your word right now that you’ll leave mine out of that sort of thing, because if my Burton comes home and tells me that you did anything he says Shawn talks about, I won’t be bringing him around here again.”

More recent, a case- their thirteen year high school reunion. Gus looks at Shawn and says “That’s easy for you to say, Shawn. No-one had any expectations you would amount to greatness.”

Shawn’s whole body feels tingly, and he has to shake himself to get feeling back into his limbs. Ivana is standing next to him, wide-eyed. “What was that?”

“Um.” Shawn looks down at his hands to make sure he’s here, really here. “I don’t-”

“Was that a vision? I’ve never had one that strong.”

“Really? I get those all the time.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, a little.” Shawn shakes himself again. “Not totally.”

“I told you, you’re being warned. Something is blocking you from contacting the spirits who want to speak to you, I can feel it. It’s something emotional, and they’re begging you to resolve it.”

“I thought you said you don’t get strong visions.”

“I’m better at mind-reading and tarot, it’s true. But-” She moves to touch him, and Shawn pulls away. “But I can feel a very strong presence around you while standing this close. Hovering, worrying, desperate.”

“Great. That’s-that’s exactly what I want. Another looming presence in my life pushing me to do stuff.” Shawn huffs. “Awfully hypocritical of them. Can you just, tell me how to avoid that kind of thing happening to me again?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re clearly a different kind of psychic than I am.”

“What, are we dogs? There’s different breeds?”

“It’s time to leave my shop.”

She shoves him out the door, literally, just as Gus pulls back up. Shawn takes a moment to compose himself, looking anywhere but The Blueberry, before getting in- or trying to.

“Dude, you didn’t leave any room for me to sit down.”

“There’s room right there.”

“I’m not some twig anymore, man, I can’t fit in a seat literally piled with sandwiches.”

“You’re the one who decided to abandon me for a talk with a fraud.”

“She’s not a fraud, Gus.” Shawn tosses all the sandwiches into the backseat, despite Gus’s whine of protest. “She’s the real deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I could feel it, which was super freaky. At one point I just mentioned she might be a fraud and it felt like that time I ate those expired mini-tacos from your freezer.”

“Eugh!”

“Point is… apparently I was drawn in there because spirits are real, and… I can’t talk to them. Yet.”

“So… what? They lead you somewhere you could get advice?”

“Sort of. She can’t talk directly either, but she… gave me a tarot reading.”

“I told you we needed to invest in a set.”

“Not until we find one with either all of the Thundercats on each card, or themed around Tears for Fears songs.”

“You can commission custom sets from local artists, Shawn.”

“Really? … Sounds expensive.”

“What’d your reading say, Shawn?”

“Right. That.” Shawn shifts in his seat as Gus pulls away. “I uh… so, weird part first, knew what the cards meant just by looking at them.”

“Which makes sense since you’re psychic.”

“Yeah, yeah. And uh… they were kinda about… my dad.”

Gus waits for Shawn to go on. Shawn licks his lips first, suddenly feeling very, very trapped.

“... Shawn?” Gus glances over, concern starting to seep into his expression. “What’d they say about your dad? … Is he dying?”

“No, no. Nothing that bad.” So, so bad. Henry just- gone. Forever. Shawn can’t even imagine it, and he doesn’t want to imagine it, for all he might fight with his dad. “But uh… Gus, how-how much do you remember, about the uh… training, I did, growing up?”

“What?”

“The cop stuff he made me do.”

“I don’t know. I know I thought it was kinda intense.”

“Yeah, but… what specifically? Do you remember?”

“Well… I remember the stuff when we were scouts, with the rocket and all that.”

“Right.”

“And him using a lot of stories about him and his partners to give us lessons.”

“Yeah.”

“And I guess I remember you talking a lot about him making you earn desserts and stuff.”

“... Yeah.” Shawn leans his head back against the headrest of the seat. “Do you remember the case at our reunion?”

“Of course I remember it, it almost ruined all my hard work!”

“Remember going through the yearbooks?”

“Shawn, I know you’re stalling by trying to make me piece everything together myself. What does this have to do with your dad?”

Shawn sighs, looking out the window and pressing the top of his tongue to the center of his top lip before saying, “You said no-one had any expectations of greatness for me growing up.”

“I did? … I did.” Gus’s concern melts into guilt. “But your dad did, didn’t he? I’m sorry, Shawn, in the moment I just totally forgot.”

“It’s alright, man, I-I didn’t say anything to correct you or anything. … But I guess I’m… trying to get a read on how much I need to tell you, to… I don’t know, unclog my psychic senses or whatever.”

“What?”

“... I’m supposed to open up about, Gus. The spirits want me to tell you, and Jules, and even Lassie about all the stuff from when I was a kid.”

“Wow. … Isn’t that kinda-”

“My personal hell? Yes, it is.” Shawn thumps his head against the window and watches the sidewalks, counting hats. “Which they know, apparently. So I don’t know why they’re asking me to do that. I’m kind of doing just fine without talking to any spirits, anyway.”

But you could be doing better. He’s not sure if the thought is some psychic intuition or just him knowing the truth, and frankly he doesn’t care. It is true. It’s probably always true. It’s a thought that, nine times out of ten, comes into his mind alongside the frowning image of an old man with a rough voice and disappointment just dripping from the words.

“Shawn, did your dad…”

He doesn’t need to be psychic to know where Gus’s train of thought is going. “No, not like that. He never hit me. At most he-he handled me a little rough while booking me for the car thing. But that’s why I don’t wanna do this, man, I just- I know everyone will make it a big thing and it’s… it’s not not a big thing, but it’s a big thing for me, you know? It’s not really anybody’s else's business.”

Even though the spirits disagree.

“... You should probably take some time to think about how you wanna do this, then.” Gus glances over again, Shawn can see it in the reflection in the window. “I know this kind of thing isn’t easy for you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Shawn says with a huffed and bitter chuckle. God, he hates this. These ugly, nasty feelings that bubble up whenever he thinks about it. He drowned in these feelings for years and it was the worst time in his life, and because he couldn’t get his head above the water he started trying to push the water itself below and now it just sits there waiting for him to stop pushing it-

He has to suck in a breath as the feeling of actual water in his lungs passes over him, and he reaches to slap Gus’s hands without looking away from the window. “Stop the car!”

“Wha-”

“I totally just got a vibe, man, I think someone drowned around here, recently!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re avoiding it.”

Shawn groans, tossing a crumpled paper ball at the trash can without looking. It goes right in. “Gus-”

“It’s been a month, Shawn. I know I said to take some time and think about how you’ll do it, but I know you and I know when you go from taking time to putting something off.”

“Gus, don’t be your coffee mug handle that broke when I picked it up.”

“Shawn, I’m serious. You basically got spiritually kidnapped into a creepy tarot reading specifically because you needed to talk about it, and now you’re not talking about it!”

“I have dinner with my dad in two days, Gus. I don’t really want to churn up all that stuff before I have to go help him prepare a fish or something again, I hate that enough.”

“So cancel.”

“Already tried- stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“I can totally read your mind right now, Gus, it’s like you’re literally shouting at me. Every time I talk about my dad now all your alarm bells go off, and that’s exactly what I don’t want!”

“Since when are you so protective of how people think of him?!”

“I don’t know! I just- I don’t want the three of you going around thinking he’s a monster or something all the time! Even if he kinda is. Man, you know I’m not good at figuring these kinds of complicated feelings out! Stop asking me to!”

“Not until we make some progress.”

“... Fine. Fine, I will… talk to everyone, as a group, here in the office, next week. Happy?”

“As I can be in the situation.”

“It’s not a situation.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I can do this all day, Shawn.”

“Well that is a complete waste of your time, and especially of mine!”

“Yeah, well, suck it.”

“You suck it!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules and Lassiter are cleaning up their desks when they both get a text at the same time.

Just had a major psychic feeling, guys, come by the office ASAP. Bring good snacks. <3

“Aw.” Jules smiles as she tucks her phone into her pocket. “Carlton, did you also get-”

“Yeah, I got it.” Lassiter sighs and swings his jacket on. “I’m not stopping for any snacks.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together resting against his lips, one leg shaking up and down and making a fast taptaptaptaptap sound against the floor as he waits. Gus sits next to him on the couch, and gives Shawn a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s going to be good for you in the long run,” Gus says for the millionth time that day.

“Man, you know I’d rather have things be good for me in the short run.”

They hear the door open, and both look up as Jules and Lassiter enter the office. Jules looks immediately concerned, while Lassiter looks more annoyed than anything.

“Shawn? What’s wrong, you look nervous. Is this is about a case?”

“Not uh, not quite.” Shawn gestures for Jules and Lassiter to sit in the armchairs set up across from the couch. They do, with Lassiter rolling his eyes as he sits. Shawn is kind of grateful for the irritation- it’s more comfortable than the way Gus and Jules are looking at him. More familiar.

“What is this about, Spencer?”

“Well, I uh…” Shawn opens his mouth to continue, but he just can’t. He just… can’t.

Gus, as always, is there to put together the missing pieces and fill in the gaps. “Shawn recently had a… metaphysical revelation,” Gus says. “He’s been dabbling in new ways to hone his abilities, and he was given the advice to unblock some parts of his mind by sharing some things.”

Shawn points at Gus to confirm it.

“What, like group therapy? This is ridiculous.”

“Believe me Lassie, I’m not happy about it either.” Shawn laughs, hollow, and his leg starts shaking faster. “But uh, every time I think about not doing this, preferably ever, I get a real kick in the ass by the spirits.” Mostly visions of people defending his dad, or his dad making all those claims about how he’s not responsible for why Shawn is the way he is, and god does the reoccuring vision of his dad claiming “A good cop trusts his gut, his instincts,” make Shawn just… mad.

“Shawn… what is this about?” Jules reaches out and puts a hand on his leg, stilling it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Maybe. … I-I don’t…” Shawn takes a deep breath. “So it’s uh… about my dad.”

Lassiter scoffs.

“You know, with him… getting involved in cases as much as he does, and uh… Gus, I-I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. I believe in you.”

“Spit it out, Spencer, after a shift I want to go home, not hang out in a fire hazard.”

“The spirits want me to tell you guys about my dad and how he raised me,” Shawn forces out. “Apparently keeping it to myself is ‘bad for me’ or something. And I uh… I don’t really know where to begin, so just… bear with me here.”

Lassiter eyes Shawn suspiciously. “Raised you how?”

“... I guess I’ll start with us, with this.” Shawn lets out a deep breath. “Lassie, you remember when my mom did your psych eval?”

“Unfortunately.”

“She told you she has an eidetic, tonal, memory.”

“How did you kn-”

“My dad, has an eidetic visual memory. I… have both.” Shawn pulls his hands apart and puts his hands to his temples and plasters on a grin that’s probably the least convincing fake smile he’s ever given. “And he knew it, real early on, before I can even remember.”

Jules gasps softly. “Oh, Shawn, but the things we see on the job-”

“It’s not that bad,” he says quickly. “Trust me Jules, I’m fine with all that. But uh, on top of that, when I was really young my mom diagnosed me as also being hyperobservant.”

Lassiter stands up and points to Shawn. “Aha! That’s it! I knew it, I knew you had some secret-”

“Lassie, sit down, I’m also genuinely psychic.”

“Yeah, right-”

“You’re excited to have caught me but you’re also thinking about how many arrests will be overturned or reexamined if you turn me in. You went to a bar on Saturday and ran into someone you liked in highschool, but h- uh, she-” Shawn glances at Jules and squints for a second, then nods. She knows, Lassie told her, good for him. “He, was already married so you went back home and looked into getting a dog for the rest of the night.”

That wipes the triumph off Lassiter’s face, and gets his ass back in the chair.

Shawn rides the high of that for just a moment before Gus clears his throat and Shawn remembers why they’re all here. He looks back down at his knees. “So uh… yes, I have a lot going on up here is what I’m trying to say.” He gestures at his head, waving his hand in a circle around his skull. “And pretty much from birth my dad figured, hey, I’ll train the kid to be the ultimate detective. The job was everything to him, and uh… he made sure it was everything to me, too.”

“That’s a pretty heavy expectation for a kid to carry,” Jules says in sympathy. “Especially with your dad having such a high-standing reputation.”

“No kidding,” Shawn laughs the same empty laugh. “So a uh… a lot, oh my childhood, was training. Stuff like uh… like even when Gus and I would play hide-and-seek, you know? He’d turn it into a lesson about how to keep a perp from seeing or hearing me if I was sneaking up on them, or-or blindfolding me, and telling me to figure out what he was doing around me just by the sounds, stuff like that.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Lassiter says.

“It was, usually. And I did really, really want to be a cop, just like him, but it was still pretty…” Shawn claps his hands back together and purses his lips, searching for the words, the feeling. “Pretty overkill, a lot of times. I mean, come on, teaching me to-to forge stuff in case I ever went undercover? I was six. I didn’t even know that kind of thing wasn’t normal until I started going over to Gus’s house. And then I started wanting to explore more things, and… started kind of… thinking about how Gus and my lives were different…”

Shawn takes another deep breath. “Like, his parents didn’t bury his Easter eggs underground and leave broken glass and a tarp over it and expect him to dig them up on his own.”

Lassiter sits up straighter, and Jules pales. Gus lets out a soft “Oh my god.”

Shawn grips his hands together. He hates this, he hates it, he doesn’t want them look at him like this, he doesn’t want them to know about this-

“Spencer, that’s a serious allegation of mistreatment and child endangerment,” Lassiter warns.

“I’m not- this isn’t a case, Lassie. I’m not trying to get my dad in trouble, and certainly not trying to get him arrested, alright? I’m just… trying to get a few things off my chest, out into the open.” Shawn clears his throat. “So, yeah. At Gus’s house he didn’t have to do that, or-or get locked in a car trunk in the afternoon to learn how to kick out a taillight, or have to hear about kids spatter brains on driveways when he brought a comic book home.”

Jules makes a sound like she might vomit. “And he knew you’d always remember all of that, perfectly?”

“... Yeah. And it uh… didn’t make me love my whole… deal.” Shawn flicks a hand up at his head again. “He never believed in psychics, so that was fine, but the other stuff… I dunno. I guess he thought it meant I just shouldn’t have been a kid or something, but I know he still thinks of me as a kid anyway.”

“Can’t always blame him.” But Lassiter’s words are as hollow as Shawn’s previous laughs, an understanding dawning in his eyes. “So he spent your life training you to be a cop, and never let you consider anything else.”

Shawn nods. “Got upset if I even mentioned it. Ever. But he also wouldn’t let me do stuff like take karate, which is weird, because I think a cop who knows martial arts seems super dope but I guess he thought a gun would be enough.”

“Did he train you in firearms too?”

“Oh, yeah. And it turns out being psychic gives you crazy good long-distance vision, which is neat, so I got really good really fast. He always freaked out when he thought I was in danger, still does, but he wanted me to be in the middle of shootouts someday at the same time. He’d have me run away from him in the middle of the woods to teach me avoidance tactics, and then lecture me for doing the same thing because I didn’t want to kill fish with him.”

Jules and Lassiter share a look, and both lean forward at the same time.

“That wasn’t okay, Shawn. Any of it,” Jules says firmly. “And if talking about this is helping you clear something up with your powers, we’ll listen to every example you’ve got.”

Shawn leans away from them a bit, mouth parting, and looks over at Gus.

Gus is crying. Not in the full-face-scrunch whistling tea kettle way he usually does. Just quiet, horrified tears over all the things he just missed during their shared childhood.

“Hey, stop that.” Shawn shakes Gus by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare feel guilty, Gus.”

“I can’t help it,” Gus sniffles. Jules reaches behind her for Gus’s desk and passes some tissues over. “Thank you.”

“I’m not- I’m not looking for guilt or pity.” Shawn looks each one of them in the eyes. “I’m not looking for anything, just for the spirits to leave me alone about this, okay?”

“We understand,” Jules assures. “Right, Carlton?”

“Right.” Lassiter is looking at Shawn in a way Shawn isn’t used to. He tries to reach out, just a little, to get a glimpse of what Lassie is actually thinking about him right now. It’s like trying to reach for something in a dream, where your arms don’t really exist and neither does what you’re trying to grab, and focusing too hard wakes you up before you can grab it but focusing too little sweeps you back into nonsense. Shawn can’t quite get a grip.

Shawn sniffs a little, and then nods, and then nods again harder to make his whole body move with the motion. “So uh… just, telling you guys everything, then? Because that could take a while, with the whole… memory, thing.”

“As much as you need to tell us. No more, no less.” Jules offers him her hand to hold. “And Shawn, I just want to say that I’m really, really honored that you came to us with this. That you’re trusting us, even though this is hard for you.”

“Of course, I trust you guys. I’d trust you both with my life, literally. If we got body-swapped I’d be completely relaxed knowing you’re probably treating it even better than I do.”

“That’s not really a high bar, Spencer.”

“Even my hair? It’s a high bar to trust you with styling my hair, Lassie.”

Lassiter considers this, and then nods in agreement.

Shawn takes one more second, and then looks up fully. “Time to get into the details, I guess.”

And he does.

And it turns out to be a long, long night.

Everyone wishes Lassie had stopped for snacks.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn wakes up the next morning, groggy and sleep deprived and feeling wrung-out like a hand towel in an industrial kitchen, he hears his grandpa’s voice.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Henry Spencer walks into the SBPD the next morning, Juliet O’Hara elbows him hard in the gut as she walks by, and while Henry is still leaning against the front desk corner catching his breath Carlton Lassiter walks up and yanks him away from the desk to throw him out the door.

“What the hell-!”

“For your sake, we better not see you around this station for at least a week. Any sooner and I can’t guarantee you leaving it without O’Hara pumping you full of lead.”

“Wh-”

“I mean it, Henry. Stay out. Or else.” Henry learns what Or else entails a week later when he follows Shawn into the station and hell breaks loose.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #child abuse mention #psychfic #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #real psychic shawn spencer

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