#like the resolution was bad or something and i have to start from the ground up and they wanna have another god damn meeting with me

[trashmouth-richie]

the boy is mine // ziggy’s version ♡

@carolmunson prompt

♡firstly, i’m so excited about this, for the unification this could have for all of us fandom wide— hopefully there are more ideas like this in the future 💕

tw: depictions of hard times, established relationship, blue collar (?) vibes, money troubles, but you’re in love so it’s a non issue. fluffy, illusions to smut but nothing mentioned.

1.3k

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.

props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook.

dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order):- "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" - "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true."- "and you like that?"- "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Birthdays.

Something rarely celebrated between the two of you. Even though you both agree every year would be different, every new year’s resolution—sworn to do it, but always falling short.

Until this year.

It wasn’t a pony or a working television, and still with the daily struggle of bills piling up and work slowing down— Eddie promised himself, your day would be special.

He dipped into the ‘broken window’ fund— started when some little shits tossed rocks at the “freak’s house”. It consisted of an empty pickle jar that lived in the same dark bottom cabinet holding the potatoes.

Just a few bucks, that’s all he would need until payday on friday.

The shopping basket was nearly pathetic looking as he scoured aisles for a special treat, realizing he had come up short when he needed an extra few bucks for gas.

Putting back the cake mix, the card, and a pack of twizzlers—Eddie left the store with a single can of vanilla frosting, the off brand kind.

He rushed home, hoping to still have enough time to beat you there before your shift ended at work.

Scrounging for the small notebook you got him for christmas, he flipped through the pages filled with past conversations about the pros and cons of leaving the trailer park, a forgotten list for groceries, and an even shorter list of bills that could be pushed back a few days.

He finally finds a clean sheet, clear of pen marks and gets to work. His hands flew with D&D esque inspired calligraphy, scrawling “happy birthday baby!” with a tiny jagged heart at the bottom with his initials.

A car door slams on creaky hinges and he knew you were home before even hearing your soft footsteps on the worn concrete— giving him only seconds to do a quick sniff of his pits and rake through his hair with his fingers— rings getting stuck along the way.

Your keys jingle on your finger as you lug your purse by its strap, nearly to the ground like you were walking a dog on a leash.

“There she is,”

The same cheesy charmer line he had greeted you with since you were teens meeting between classes by your locker, faces wedged almost as one to kiss as much as you could before being late. Hormones on fire.

Eddie ‘benjamin button’ Munson aged backwards, you were sure of it. Where you looked exhausted at any given hour, Eddie's puppy dog eyes grew bigger every day, not a single wrinkle on his cherub face.

“Hey babe,” you yawned with a hand covering your mouth, “did’y have a good day?”

His smile, all dimples and porcelain teeth stretched a mile wide along with his arms as you walked into them, pressing your cheek to the middle of his chest, arms slung lazy on his hips.

“Always a good day babe, never bad. And..someone, not sure who, has a birthday.”

Lifting your head his chin is dipped to you, “someone doesn’t like their birthday, Eddie— it’s a waste.”

You never had, it was never happy before Eddie— stemming from divorced parents fighting about which one should pick up the cake, and who was buying the gifts because ‘I did it last year’ which ultimately dissolved into you telling them not to worry about it because it was just another day.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Eddie frowns, “that’s not even true.”

You grumble into his shirt tossing your head further into him inhaling his scent. He kisses your hairline and strokes your back before working to remove your coat.

“Five years we’ve been together, it’s time we celebrate shit, sweetheart.”

Mumbling a drawn out ‘fiiine’ into him he tips your chin, with a curl of his forefinger, a little smirk on his lips.

“You’re really cute when you pout y’know it?”

“and you like that?”

His lips slot against yours, and you hum with content, “oh darlin’” he says with a fake southern drawl, “I love it.”

-

The tub was filled with the warmest temperature the water heater would allow— which wasn’t a lot, but still, it felt nice on your sore muscles from your shift at the same plant both Eddie and Wayne worked at, opposite shifts from you.

Eddie’s rings clacked on the plastic edge as he slid his long legs around yours into the water, sitting on the other end of the tub. He had helped you undress, hanging your coat on the back of a chair, giving you the beautiful homemade card that made tears spring to your eyes.

He followed behind you into the bathroom, running the water and putting the drain stopper into the drain before he ran back out to the kitchen returning with arms filled with stuff that he kept hidden from you until you were comfortably sitting in the cramped bathtub.

He plugged in an emerald strand of colorful christmas lights that you didn’t even know you had. It filled the cluttered countertop, weaving around the bar of soap and kitchen cup designated for holding your toothbrushes, lighting the bathroom in a cozy Christmas ambience… in April.

“We ran out of like, nice cups— is this okay?” He asked before pouring a can of Busch light into two red cups that were nabbed from Benny’s before it shut down.

Scrunching your face you move your arms from the depths of the water to reach out for his extended offering of warm beer, “when have we ever had nice cups?”

He laughed shrugging, “yeah, you’re right.”

Sitting square in front of you, long legs bent and wide open, Eddie holds up his cup in a cheers, “to you, my love, my sweet beautiful hotter than hell girl who for some reason fell for my charm, happy birthday.”

Clinking a his cup with yours you both smile before taking a swig of the cheap warm beer.

“mm, that’s nice.. what year?” you tease, never even having wine in your life.

He plays along like he always does, swirling the cup and putting the tip of his nose to the rim, “ah yes, a refined 1989 I believe— a good year for Busch I've heard.”

You both laugh until your sides ache. This is why you adored him, making a normal day special by just being him—corny, cheesy, poor— and you had never been happier.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, reaching out of the tub, ribs stretching taunt against his skin, soap sliding down them.

He grabs a lighter from the counter and opens the tub of frosting. Brandishing a white waxed candle tucked behind his ear with the flair of a magician, he plants it in the center before lighting the wick and sitting down roughly in the tub, water splashing onto the floor.

The flame lit up his features, his tongue poked out in concentration, the yellow light filling his dark pudding eyes with a boyish glee, and then they met yours.

“Should I sing?”

You shake your head, happy tears stinging your eyes, “no, this is perfect,”

“Well make a wish.”

You close your eyes tight not knowing what to wish for because all you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you. Blowing out the candle you lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth, hard and deep.

The beer tipped into the tub and was long forgotten as your lips worked down his neck, wet strands of hair curled around, his arms pulling you in, making you sit on his naked lap, the frosting birthday cake sitting on the floor.

You kiss for awhile, your chest pressed into his, his hands squeezing your ass, the heel of his foot knocking the plug from the drain.

“If you don’t stop,” you mutter between kisses, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie smirks, dimples poking out, stroking your cheek thumb sweeping your swollen bit lip, “throw pillow is already on the bed, besides, I’m not afraid of a little trouble baby.”

#carols prompts #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

[disneyprincemuke]

our spot, 2 * ls2

it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

warnings: logan is the warning idk

notes: i know it took me forever to write this subpar ass second part but like- i kinda like it because i'm bad with resolutions and making up (i'm single)

also i'd like to have a word with whoever made this gif because it's like so disrespectful like he is so fine why would u do this?

(f1 masterlist)

(prev)

“you’re growing up too fast,” your mother had said to you earlier after you finished packing the last of your boxes. the boxes that would be sent off to new york in a couple of days before you head out right before new year’s.

thankfully, your family agreed on flying over with you to spend the holiday with you. you had spent weeks and months rethinking the choice of your relocation; if you could handle being away from your family.

your father insisted you explore the world without them by your side and you took up the offer. you'd broken up with the guy you were seeing a couple of days ago.

while you had your doubts about where your relationship was going, there was no denying the amount of time you'd spent together. it still stung you quite a little bit to up and leave him. he had asked you if there was any way to make it work, but you couldn't get yourself to say anything.

so, he pulled you in for a hug and wished you well. and then you left, tearing up very slightly on the drive home alone.

it would be nice to start fresh in a new place. your last conversation convincing you to pick up the pieces of yourself and start moving on for real.

though, it seems it would take forever to do that. you hadn’t only lost a romantic connection when you lost logan, but also your best friend.

the first person you called when you crashed your car on the highway when you were 17, the person who stood up to the girl who made fun of you when you were 9, and the only one who knew you better than you knew yourself.

so here you are at 3 in the morning walking the quiet streets of your small town with your hands in the pockets of your sweater. you try to stifle the sniffle that escapes you, having spent the past couple of hours in tears at the thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known.

packing up and spending months in new york, then indefinitely in germany made you a nervous wreck. though the company you’re working for has arranged everything for you from the airport pickup to the apartment estate you’ll be spending your days in.

when you left your house, you glanced across the street to disappointment. logan’s truck isn’t parked on the street and his room had its blinds drawn — the way it’s been since you last saw him.

when you first got the promotion, you almost picked up your phone to text logan. but the heavy weight of guilt made you hit erase and put your phone down after a second.

even when you had graduated about 6 months after cutting contact, you wanted so bad to send him a photo of you and your degree together. but, there was something so embarrassing about reaching out and starting a conversation like nothing had happened.

you posted it on your instagram stories, reposting every single tagged picture for days after to hopefully prompt a message of congratulations from logan. but he didn’t bite.

it made you wonder if you’ve truly made a mistake suddenly cutting him off.

you sigh, making a sharp turn after you pass the school. there’s a dark figure up ahead on the playground that makes you question if it’s a mistake that you’ve come here so late at night.

but it’s a relatively safe gated community. you press your lips together as you approach, your breath hitching in your throat when you’re finally able to make out the man sitting at the end of the slide.

“fancy seeing you here,” logan mumbles, throwing the pieces of rubber from the playground floor into the ground. “it’s late.”

“yeah, i just finished packing,” you answer under your breath, passing him to sit at the edge of another slide. “just needed to do some thinking. didn’t expect you’d be here.”

logan grins to himself with a soft chuckle. “yeah, i’m sorry for intruding.”

you hadn’t been here since you last asked him to come here and see you. in fact, prior to that meetup, you’d only been here a total of 5 times since you last talked.

it reminded you too much of the memories you shared with him growing up.

you lie back in the comfort of the slide. “don’t worry about it. i don’t come here often,” you smile to yourself as you confess. "not anymore."

"i can tell," logan mutters. "i've been here every night since you texted me."

"oh." you take a deep breath, not knowing if you'd like the answer to your question. "what for?"

"thinking real hard," he says just barely above a whisper. he turns to you with a small smile. "i was thinking about you. and germany... and how close it is to me."

your breath hitches. you won't admit to him, but you accepted the offer to move to germany to at least be remotely close to him. or to at least convince him to give your relationship a shot.

you've been apart for years. the only way you got to spend time together back then was if you'd make the effort to visit him in the uk, or if he had the time to fly back home. it was difficult to keep finding ways to make the relationship last.

you had to pretend for a while that you never had to end it. but you knew in your heart two years ago that it cannot keep going on like this. you cried and cried every single time at the airport when he would have to leave you behind in this small town.

you knew his mother mentioned to him about the guy you were seeing. because your mother came to you asking questions about the mysterious guy you never even told her about.

every night after that, you thought about calling logan to explain yourself; that it's not what he thinks it is. but were you really in the position where you had to explain yourself?

"i do love you," he says, picking at the rubber grit once more to avoid your stare. "but the long-distance... barely seeing each other for months on end... it was hard. i couldn't give you what a normal guy would. i couldn't keep making you wait around for nothing."

"but that's not up to you to decide," you say slowly, hoping that he would understand where you came from. "it's unfair. i was willing to go through all of that with you. we've been through so much together."

"i didn't want to risk losing you over something like that," logan sighs, looking up at you in despair. there's a sadness in his eyes that you've never seen before. "it was lonely without you. you're my best friend - losing you over something different entirely was devastating. i didn't have anybody else."

you shake your head, unsure of what to say to him. it was lonely for you when you cut him off. you went from communicating everyday to only catching glimpses of his life on tv, instagram and media news sites.

every single achievement you had, you thought about calling him and hearing his proud voice. but you couldn't fully back yourself on the fact that you broke your own heart because he wanted to keep you around.

"i thought of you every single day," logan says. "i'm sorry. i know you've got a boyfriend and i'm sure he's great, but-"

"i told you," you laugh dryly, throwing your head back. "if you just tell me right now... i'll be all yours."

"but i can't do that to somebody else," logan frowns with a shake of his head. he's contemplated a lot over the past couple of days. how appealing your proposal sounds to him, but the fact that you're still seeing somebody has been making him hesitate. "you know what that means."

you press your lips together. logan's always made sure that he was as morally right as much as he could with his decisions. you sigh, a small hesitant smile stretching your lips. "we broke up."

"what?"

"i broke up with him a couple days ago," you whisper, dropping your eyes to avoid his questioning stare. "i just wanted to go to germany with a fresh start."

logan doesn't say anything immediately. and you don't follow up your confession with anything either. so you look up into the sky as you sway your feet left and right as you try to count the stars that illuminate the night sky. your heart pounds in your chest as you anticipate what he will say next.

and you know he's still there, thinking hard because you can still see his shadow against the playground flooring.

"stay the night," he says softly.

you sit up, both of your hands gripping the sides of the slide as you turn to look at him. "what did you just say?"

"come home with me and then let's talk about it," logan smiles, though he still looks just as tired as before. "let's figure it out, you and me; germany. let me make this right."

"you idiot," you laugh, tears falling out of your eyes again as you have another outburst. "logan."

"wait, why are you crying?" his voice is soft and laced with shock, hands held out towards your body. "i thought this was what you wanted? did i cross a line? i'm sorry."

"no, i just," you cry, wiping the tears from your face. "god, i just missed you so much. i'm sorry. it's not you."

he's now gotten up from his seat. he's knelt down next to the slide you're sitting in, trying to reach out and touch your arm. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry it took me this long." his thumbs swipe over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "please don't cry anymore."

@thatgirlmj @lfm98 @gentlyweeps-world @ladywhistledownx @charli123456789 @lightdragonrayne @k-pevensie28 @angsthology

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x y/n #logan sargeant x y/n #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant fanfiction #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

[lvrdrafts]

Rescued by Love Final

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

The air in the room was heavy with tension, each heartbeat echoing the weight of their unspoken words. Bucky's eyes were filled with a mix of desperation and hope as he looked at you, his heart laid bare.

"Y/N, please," he implored, his voice a soft plea that seemed to hang in the air. "I know I fucked up and I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes pleading for you to reconsider. "Please don't do this. I know I can be better for you."

Your eyes met his, a mixture of pain and indifference clouding your gaze. "Bucky, you don't understand. This arrangement was forced, and I've tried to find something worthwhile within it. I really did. We both knew it was poison from the start"

He stepped closer, his fingers grazing the edge of your hand as if reaching for a lifeline. " Angel, I want to fix this- build something better for us."

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, the bitterness in your voice unmistakable. "You're missing the point, Bucky. This isn't some fairytale where we can just fix the mistakes and forget the bad things prince charming did"

Bucky's grip on your hand tightened his voice a mix of sorrow and urgency. "Please, Y/N, let me show you that I can change, that there's still a chance for us."

You pulled your hand away from his, your voice resolute as you held your ground. "Bucky, stop your just hurting me more the more you talk. It's time for me to break free from this cycle of being someone no one cares about, please"

Your gaze met his, a tempest of pain and skepticism swirling within you. "Bucky, every word that left your lips was a lie. You left me feeling foolish for ever believing you were different." you say walking towards the door "Don't wait up, I need time to think about this"

Hours turned to night, and then into a new day. The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon by the time you returned to the place that had once held only pain. In your hand, you held a document that represented the finality you sought – the divorce papers.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly as he looked at you, holding his coffee tightly. He must have sensed the gravity of the moment, the weight of your decision. Silence hung in the air for a moment, the room seemingly holding its breath.

You walked closer, each step deliberate, your gaze locked onto his. His features, once so familiar, now seemed distant and foreign. The air was tense, like a taut wire about to snap.

"I've made up my mind, Bucky," your voice was steady, but the undercurrent of emotion was palpable. "This is the only way to move forward."

His eyes locked onto yours, his voice a mixture of desperation and determination. "Please, sweetheart, let's not give up on what we had. I'm ready to fight for us, to demonstrate that change is possible."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, your heart fortified against their release. You didn't want to show him pain so you stayed strong "Bucky, you're in too deep".

You hand him the pen "Please if you care for me so much then sign it"

Without a word, Bucky reached for a pen, his hand trembling as he signed his name on the divorce papers. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you that is all I ever wanted to do, that's why I wanted this marriage," Bucky says as the tears fall down his eyes.

"Well I'm sorry I didn't get the divorce papers sooner, your protection is torture," you say calmly walking to your room to take your belongings. It felt like deja vu yet this time you were happy it was repeating. This time you had control of your life no one else.

Taglist:

@cjand10 @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @hereticdance @kentokaze @bruher @tupperwarefullofdirt @unaxv @learisa @emerald-writes @aya-fay @stinkerbelle007 @scifinerd1818 @paarthurnax59 @vickie5446 @almosttoopizza @kandis-mom @kittimbo

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst

[noosayog]

wc: 1k

content/warnings: angst, fluff

final part, directory here.

noos's notes: thank you for enjoying this series! I'm the worst at writing making up scenes, so I hope this isn't too abrupt but I really never thought I'd actually finish writing this series if not for all of you who reblogged with comments and tags! xoxo

--

When Sakusa asks if he can come in to talk, you decline and offer to go to a nearby park. It’s summer and the weather is permitting, but he feels a cold chill despite your tentative smile. It’s not lost on him that you don’t want him in your safe space; you’ll only allow him an audience on neutral ground. 

It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this. He’s grateful that you’re even willing to speak to him. 

“I-”

“What-” 

You both speak at the same time. Sakusa clams up and awkwardly gestures for you to speak. You sigh. “What did you want to talk about, Kiyoomi?” 

Now, he had planned out what he would say at this moment. He had a whole script, as well thought out as could be in the span of time he ran from the locker room to your place. He was even going to take Atsumu’s lines and incorporate them into his speech.

But he’s not used to the cold front and polite smile. His mind blanks out and he’s on autopilot. 

“How can I show you that I care about you?” 

You frown. Not the reaction he was looking for but at least he got the stranger-danger smile off your face. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think… I’ve been doing a good job of showing you how much I care about you.” 

“Kiyoomi…” you trail off. 

You pause for a moment, your facial expression resigned. Sakusa fears he might’ve said the wrong thing again. Where was Miya when you actually needed him? 

“I’ve never thought that you don’t care for me. Honestly, this is all on me. You’ve made it clear from the start that you don’t feel for me the way I do for you and that’s not your fault-” 

Kiyoomi is desperate to open his mouth, call himself an idiot and set the record straight, but you hold up a hand to finish. 

“Not your fault and I think it’s time I really put some effort in to let go of these feelings and stop hoping for things and crying at bad times and,”

You’re babbling nonsense at this point, voice getting softer and wobblier by the second and it’s terrible but all Sakusa can think about is how happy he is that you still seem to be in love with him. 

Silly, stupid, absolutely knuckleheaded Sakusa. Him. 

He says your name, resolutely, with promise. 

You shut up and raise your face to him. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more clear. When I say care for you, I don’t mean it was a friend.” 

You blink. The tears have stopped. Something’s working. 

“I mean it as… well, the way you meant it when you told me you liked me.” 

He’s on a roll now. 

“It took me a really long time to realize this and even after I did, I needed Miya to knock it into me. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was in love with you from that very first night, I’m sorry that I’ve been a coward and selfish, and I’m sorry that I’ve made you cry by yourself. So let me rephrase. What can I do to make you know, without any doubt, that I like you so much and I want to care for you in a way that you’ll let only me do?” 

Sakusa heaves out a big breath and he kind of expects you to just kiss him like they do in novels and movies but you just stare at him with big, uncomprehending eyes. 

You’re quiet for a moment and when you speak, you say something Sakusa isn’t expecting. 

“I want to, but you need to give me a reason to. All you've given me since we slept together are signs that you don’t want us to be together.” 

He did consider the possibility that you had already fallen out of love with him, but you still seemed to be very much emotional over all this. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he had made so many mistakes that even the weight of your love was overshadowed by hurt and distrust. 

He wants to let his flight instinct kick in again, but he didn’t steel his resolve and selfishly demand that you meet with him for nothing. 

And as a minor afterthought, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle reporting back to Miya that he ran from you again. 

“So let me ask you again, then. What can I do to show you how much I mean everything I just said? Make you breakfast and take you out for dinner? Clean your apartment? Tell you I love you everyday?” The list goes on. 

It makes you giggle and Kiyoomi counts it as a point won. 

“Are you sure this time, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi almost swoons at the nickname. “Yes.” 

“Then, while all those things sound good, I just need you to promise that you’ll try harder to talk to me when things get uncomfortable. ‘Cause all I ever wanted was for you to stay.” 

“I will,” and he means it. 

“It would be nice to hear you tell me you love me everyday, though.

“I’ll put a calendar reminder so I don’t forget.” He’s a hundred percent serious. 

You laugh and he leans closer, desperate to hear - no, feel - that familiar sound better. 

“That’s cheating!” 

“I’ll remember. I’ll never forget anything about us ever again.” 

“Omi,” you’re gentle as you pat his cheek. “It’s not possible to never forget anything. Just don’t forget to tell me how you feel.” 

“I can do that,” he promises. 

You laugh again. It's the kind of laugh like you don’t believe him, but he supposes that’s alright. He knows he can’t erase the months of loneliness and pain he caused you with just a few pretty words. But he does plan on spending the next few years, maybe the next few eternities, doing exactly that.

#noos writes #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq fluff #hq angst #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff

[imogenkol]

— 15 LINES OR LESS

I was tagged by @voidika @corvosattano and @kyber-infinitygems thank you!!! 💕💕💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

RULES: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

“Well, I’ve fucked myself,”

“You really want a werewolf fugitive in your home for longer than necessary? I take it back, you are an idiot,”

“Ivan gave me the authority to remove individuals who display violence on these grounds unprovoked. Which means I get to tell you to promptly fuck off.”

“Others will test me no matter what. They already have, actually. I think I make my point pretty damn clear, so I sure as shit ain’t gonna go and fill out a questionnaire with my personal information like I’m at a werewolf DMV.”

“Like I’d ever let you eat something out of a can.”

“You come anywhere near her again, I won’t have as much restraint as I did today.”

“If he thinks that just because you’re the only one I won’t immediately clock that I’ll actually listen to what you have to say, he’s got another thing coming.”

“You are not my alpha… You never were and you never will be. I don't have an alpha.”

“I was afraid to die because I didn’t want you to remember me as an almost. I didn’t want you to look back and think ‘she almost loved me’, because I do love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. And the thought of me dying without you knowing that was too much for me to take.”

She halted by the bar for a second, pointing at Toby and slurring “You owe me…” her brows suddenly furrowed. “Shit, I didn’t do this for any money, did I?”

Jayde cleared her throat. “Listen, Nick,” she started and downed her entire glass of whiskey like it was water. // “It’s Patrick,” he corrected with a scowl. // She shrugged. “Eh, I knew it ended in an ‘ick’.”

Jayde scooped the kitten up and he flopped around in her grip like a ragdoll, trying to gnaw on her fingers. She held him up and tilted him this way and that, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Then she plopped the kitten back down on the bed and looked at Nadya with resolution. “Greg.”

Bonus Nadya Lines!

“I can imagine you’re here because of something bad… But it’s not my job to judge you. It’s my job to help you. And I want to help you, but it’s kind of hard to do that if you won’t at least talk to me.”

“Can’t we just… I don’t know, act like we aren’t doing anything wrong? I mean, that’s how you get away with shoplifting.” Jayde stared questioningly at her. Nadya’s face flushed once again. “N-not that I shoplift, I was just watching a petty crime documentary one night –”

“Did I ever tell you the way you set up a campsite is sexy?”

#oc insp: Jayde Thatcher #oc insp: Nadya Bishop #ship insp: woven and thatched #I know 12 is a lot more exposition than anything but I couldn’t NOT include the ‘Greg.’

[get-your-fics]

Through the Looking Glass

Summary: “I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then.” —Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader, Jake Lockley x fem!reader, Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count: 9.2k

Warnings: Rough non-con, panty kink, violence, blood, gunplay, glove kink, asphyxiation, murder, creepy behavior, kidnapping, discussions of mental health

Note: the wait is over! writing this one hit a little too close to home lol. i want to thank my wonderful beta @nephilxterra for everything she did to workshop this. love you to pieces!

The first time you saw him was in the early morning.

Everyone was waiting for group to start when the big double doors marking the entrance to the psych unit swung open. Two paramedics wheeled a gurney right across the white line on the ground you weren’t allowed to cross with a man strapped to it. The unit you were in constantly saw people coming and going, so no one else paid him any mind. However, even at the risk of seeming rude, for some reason you didn’t understand, you couldn’t stop staring at him.

He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He had dark circles under his eyes, and the hollows of his cheeks were sunken in and sallow. The patients who were brought into the unit were normally calm (usually due to whatever anti-anxiety meds that had been given to them at the emergency room they were transported from), but there was something different about how resolute he appeared, like he was preparing himself for what was to come.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and his eyes locked with yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt rooted to the ground by his eyes on you, as if he’d turned you to stone with the weight of his gaze alone. You couldn’t tear your eyes off of his. There was something impossibly dark about them, like they were two cold, empty voids you could fall into and get lost in forever. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

You thought you saw his lips curve into a hint of a smirk before he was wheeled out of your sight.

You didn’t see him again until dinner time.

He was considerably more groggy, trudging into the rec room where the other patients waited while the nurses passed out trays of food. One of the nurses called out the name ‘Marc Spector,’ and he moved forward, clutching one of the unit’s standard issue blankets close around him.

By the time you got your tray, you spotted him sitting alone at one of the tables, picking at his mac and cheese absentmindedly with the tongs of his fork. Your heart wrenched in your chest with pity for him. You were lucky you’d been brought into the unit late in the night so you’d had time to process the situation while you slept. You could only imagine how overwhelming it was for him to be thrown into the middle of it all.

You mustered your courage before walking over to him. He raised his head when he saw you approach. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, plastering a smile on your face.

He looked up at you through droopy eyelids. “No, not at all.” His voice was weak, but you could just barely make out the lilt of a British accent.

“Thanks.” You slid into the chair across from him and introduced yourself. “You must be Marc.”

“Actually, my name is Steven,” he corrected you.

You blinked at him. You could’ve sworn the nurse said Marc, but you must’ve misheard. “Oh, my bad.” You shifted in your seat. “Is this your first time in a psych unit?”

He tilted his head, his face drawn up in a pensive expression. This close, his eyes weren’t hollow like they seemed before. Maybe it had been all in your head. “I’m not sure.”

You furrowed your brow. How could someone not remember being institutionalized before? Maybe whatever drugs were in his system were still wearing off. You didn’t recognize him though, which meant it was at least his first time in this particular unit. “That’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to be afraid. Everyone here is really nice.”

He perked up, some of the fog clearing from his gaze. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re all easy-going. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Groups are optional, and most of the time they’re just fun stuff like games and arts and crafts. It’s not like you’ll be forced to spill your deepest darkest secrets or anything.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “Honestly, the most annoying part about being here is the nurses waking you up at six a.m. to check your blood pressure.”

That managed to earn a wheezy laugh from him, and you’d be lying if your stomach didn’t flutter a little at the sound. “That’s good to hear.”

Your face heated up under his gaze, and when you smiled at him this time, it was genuine. “Don’t worry. You’ll be in and out of here in no time.”

From then on, you and Steven were practically attached at the hip. He told you everything he knew about Egyptian mythology, reciting all sorts of stories about the gods Osiris and Anubis and Taweret that were better than any trashy romance novel you could find in the unit’s bookcase, and in turn you showed him the ins and outs of the unit. You took turns seeing who could solve a Rubik’s Cube the fastest (which Steven always did in an unprecedented short amount of time). You played long running games of Golf with the other patients, keeping score of who was in the lead until someone went home and then you’d start all over again.

You couldn’t remember smiling as much as you did since Steven had arrived there. You felt more yourself when you were around him, like you’d been sleepwalking through life and suddenly you were wide awake for the first time in months. Which made it even more heartbreaking when you discovered that he wasn’t real.

Steven Grant didn’t exist.

You were sitting in the rec room with the TV turned to a channel running a marathon of old B movies. The one that just so happened to be playing was Tomb Buster, a film whose main character was a British archaeologist who excavated Egyption tombs and just so happened to be named Dr. Steven Grant.

At first, you were worried that you’d imagined him, that you’d somehow seen this film before and it’d snuck into your subconscious, creating Steven as a way to cope with being stuck in the unit for so long. But it turned out to be very much the opposite: Steven was a coping mechanism for Marc Spector.

Steven fronted consistently since coming to the unit as far as you could tell. You figured he must be a protector, and the stress of the situation was too much for Marc to handle. You hadn’t actually met Marc, but Steven told you plenty about him, though it didn’t always paint him in the best light.

“He can be a real bugger,” he huffed. “Honestly, it’s better off if you don’t meet him. He’d probably just brood you to death.”

After a couple weeks, you’d finally worked up the nerve to ask him how he ended up in the unit, but he told you he didn’t quite remember. He said he figured Marc must’ve brought them in. All he could remember was waking up in his room before being called to dinner where he met you.

You didn’t care that Steven was an alter. You’d met plenty of people with DID before. After all, you were in a psych unit. You were just happy to have a friend. It almost made you selfish enough to wish that he wouldn’t leave.

You couldn’t sleep, not that that was new to you. You had long grown used to fitful, restless nights where you tossed and turned in bed, jolting awake from nightmares you couldn’t remember.

You were also used to feeling eyes on you at night. After all, the nurses completed their rounds every hour, peeking in on each patient through the little window in the door. But recently, something felt off. You could feel someone watching you, and no matter how tightly you clutched the thin hospital blanket to your form, you shivered at the chill that settled deep in your bones.

You burst awake for the umpteenth time that night, sitting up tangled in sheets soaked through with sweat. Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession as you sucked in big gulps of air, and your heart pounded against your ribcage. You reached for the cup of water at your bedside, hoping to get rid of the dry, sour feel in your mouth, only to find it empty.

You grabbed the cup and slipped out of bed, creeping out of your room. You padded down the hall in sock-covered feet, squinting against the fluorescent lights that were on all hours of the day. The faint noises of a commotion hit your ears, growing louder the closer you drew to the rec room.

When you got there, you saw Steven was awake too. His back was to you, and he was pressed up against the doors to the unit, slapping his palms against them. There were two nurses with him, trying to get him away from the doors and coax him back to bed.

“Please, please! You’ve gotta let me out of here!” he yelled. His voice was deeper, and lacking the usual intonation of his British accent. “I’m gonna hurt someone!”

You nearly crushed the plastic cup in your hand. That wasn’t Steven. That was Marc.

“Marc!” you rushed towards him. “Hey, Marc, it’s okay.” You told him your name. “I’m a friend of Steven’s.”

He went still, dropping his arms at his sides. He slowly turned around to face you. His dark hair was wild, and his eyes widened when he saw you. He pressed his back against the doors as much as he could. “Get her away from me!” He pointed at you, his finger shaking. “Stay away!”

Your heart sank to your stomach. You’d been looking forward to meeting Marc, only for him to be so scared of you that you couldn’t get a chance to talk to him.

You felt a hand on your arm and nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped to see a nurse at your side. She must’ve snuck up on you. “Come with me, let’s get you back to bed.” She patted your arm. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

You let her guide you away, craning your neck to see Marc for as long as you could before he was out of your sight.

You didn’t see him for a couple days after that.

When he returned to the unit, you were ecstatic. As much as you wanted to hug him though, you resisted the urge and approached him cautiously with your tail tucked between your legs like he was a wild animal that might spook at any moment.

“Hi,” you said timidly, a small smile on your lips. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes were barely open again, the same way they’d been when you first met him. He was probably still recovering from whatever calming meds the nurses had given him. “I’ve been better, love,” he said, his voice thin.

Your heart thumped a little faster at the pet name, though you reminded yourself he used it often and now was especially not the time to get hung up on little things like that. “So I finally met Marc…”

His face fell. “You met him? When?”

“The night before they locked you away from everyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “He didn’t seem to like me very much…”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, trust me. He was very adamant about making it clear,” you said.

He scoffed. “How could he not like you? I find that hard to believe.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “I swear, and he thought he was the more sane of the two of us. Bloke must be out of his mind,” he muttered under his breath.

You bit back a smile. He focused his attention back on you. “What did he say to you?”

“He told me to stay away from him.” You frowned. “He seemed like he was scared of me, Steven.”

His hand shot out and grabbed yours, gripping on tight. “Well, don’t listen to him, alright?” He looked down at his hand and, realizing he was holding you too tight, let go. “I don’t want you to stay away. I’d dislike that very much.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “You would, now would you?”

“Aw, bug off.” He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I’m sure he was just freaked out to be fronting after weeks of being dormant. It probably had nothing to do with you. Besides, what reason would he have to be scared of you in the first place?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Steven. I don’t want to make Marc unhappy.”

“But have you stopped to consider what’d make me happy?” He raised his brows. “And since I actually know you, I figure that’s more important, yeah?”

He batted his lashes at you, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. You heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But if Marc gets mad, that’s on you.”

His face broke out into a lopsided grin. “Puppy dog eyes work wonders, don’t they?”

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t suppress it anymore and threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I missed you, Steven.”

He went still for a second before tentatively wrapping his arms around your middle. “I missed you, too.” He let out a breath, the tension leaving his body as his shoulders sagged. “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m back now.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, clinging to him like your life depended on it. You didn’t want to ever let him go again.

You rummaged through the little cabinet in the corner of your room that held what little belongings you were allowed in the unit, a towel wrapped around you. You frowned when you couldn’t find your favorite pair of underwear, though you didn’t think much of it. Things tended to get misplaced when the nurses did the laundry all the time.

You huffed and grabbed for a pair blindly. You knew it was stupid to be upset over something so miniscule, but when you were required to wear a hospital gown and pants the unit provided for you everyday, getting to pick what underwear you wore each day gave you a little bit of freedom back.

Once you were dressed, you walked out into the rec room. You felt ten times lighter when you saw Steven sitting on the sofa by the TV like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You skipped over to him.

“‘Ello, governor,” you mimicked his accent as you plopped down on the cushion next to him. “What do you feel like doing today? Maybe some coloring, round up the others to play some Golf? Or do you just wanna zone out and watch TV all day?”

He didn’t respond, too busy trying to stare a hole into something over your shoulder. You cocked your head at him before glancing behind you to see a nurse rolling out one of the patients into the rec room.

“Oh, him? That’s just Arthur Harrow.” You folded your arms over the back of the sofa and shrugged. “You haven’t seen him before because he hardly ever leaves his room, and when he does, he’s usually out of it.”

When he didn’t respond, you looked back at him and froze. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and his body was trembling all over, like he was convulsing or having a seizure. You were about to call a nurse over when he stopped and blinked, his eyes returning to normal.

His gaze fixed on you, and you felt paralyzed. His brows were drawn together, and the features of his face were set into a stern expression. His lips were pressed together in a taut line. You knew in an instant that this wasn’t Steven you were looking at any longer.

“Marc?” you asked tentatively.

He said your name, his voice grim. “You have to listen to me very carefully. I need to get out of here.”

“Marc, I know this must be confusing for you,” you spoke in an even, calm tone, mirroring the way the nurses had talked to you many times before. “But you’re safe. You’re in a psych unit. You checked yourself in at the emergency room, don’t you remember?”

A crease formed between his brows as they knitted together. “That wasn’t me.” He shook his head.

It was your turn to look confused. If he couldn’t remember coming here, and Steven couldn’t either, then who did?

“You’re not listening to me.” He latched onto your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin. “Something very bad is going to happen if I stay here.”

Alarm bells rang in your head, and your muscles locked into place. “Marc, you’re hurting me,” you whispered, gritting your teeth.

“Do you hear me?” He shook your wrist, baring his teeth. An errant curl fell down his forehead. “I need to get out of here before something bad happens!”

You glanced over at where the nurses sat across the room. They were looking over at you, taking notice something was wrong, and started to stand. “Marc, you need to calm down or you’re going to get locked away again,” you hissed. You couldn’t handle even a few more days without seeing Steven again.

“You’re not safe.” His voice rose in panic. “He’s going to hurt you.”

Your lashes fluttered. “What?” He wasn’t scared of you, but for you? “Who’s going to hurt me? Is it Steven?”

Before he could answer, two of the nurses were on him. “Too much excitement for the day, huh, Marc?” one of them cooed in a sweet tone.

They each grabbed him by the armpits and hoisted him up, escorting him towards the hall. “Why don’t you take some time and rest in your room, all right?”

“Stay away!” Marc shouted after you as he dug his heels into the ground, his voice bouncing off of the walls. “Stay away!”

They dragged him out of sight. You stayed where you were, the sudden silence that had fallen over the room making the tension even more palpable.

He once again disappeared for a couple days, and when he returned, he was the same old Steven you knew well. You didn’t mention the encounter you had with Marc. You figured there was no point talking in circles with him. But you never could quite get Marc’s words out of your head.

You and Steven were the only ones still awake in the rec room. The TV had long been switched off, and the nurses were gone for the moment, most likely trading off shifts.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out?” you asked him, curled up in the recliner and hugging your knees to your chest.

He pursed his lips in thought. “I’m going to look up at the sky,” he said, his voice almost reverent with awe. “That’s what I miss the most about being in here: being able to look up at the night sky and see all the stars forming constellations that were there long before us and will be there long after us, too. Reminds me that in the grand scheme of things, we’re quite insignificant.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that’s real uplifting.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean that compared to the billions of years the earth has rotated around the sun, our lifespans are like a blip in comparison.” His face was tilted up like he could see the stars through the ceiling. “So we shouldn’t waste time worrying about the little things and make the most of it we can.”

You rested your head on the back of the chair and admired his profile. The longer you’d known Steven, the more you started to look past the under eye bags and appreciate just how disarmingly attractive he really was: the strong curve of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw, his long lashes brushing against his cheekbones, the crinkle by his eyes when he smiled. How thick and soft his dark curls looked, just tempting you to reach out and run a hand through them–

Your runaway train of thought was cut off when he turned to look at you. You sat up, hoping he hadn’t noticed you ogling him like a freak. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get out?”

You cast your gaze down to the floor. You were finally confronted with the sad truth, and you still couldn’t stare it in the face. “It’s not really a matter of ‘when,’ moreso an ‘if.’”

His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no point in me going out there when I’ll just end up right back here.” You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes. “I don’t think I’m meant for the real world, Steven.”

He started to rise from his chair. “Hey, don’t say that.” He scooted closer to you. “Don’t talk about my best friend like that. You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.”

You wheezed a laugh, a tear dripping down your cheek. You went still when he cupped your face in his hand, gently brushing away the tear with his thumb. You couldn’t help but lean into his warm palm like a cat nuzzling his skin.

He dipped his head to stare directly into your eyes. “You’re going to get out of here, okay? I promise you will. And when you do, you’ll have me by your side.” The corners of his lips tilted into a small, fond smile. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

Your heart leapt unevenly in your chest. You thought back to what he said earlier, about making the most of what little time you had on this speck of dust hurtling through the infinite abyss of the universe. If that was the case, there’d been something you’d wanted to do for a long time, and you didn’t think you could hold yourself back any longer.

All it took was for you to slightly lean forward to close the space between your lips. Your nose bumped against his, and your teeth clacked together, but you made the most of the clumsy, fumbling kiss that you could. He froze against you, and when he didn’t ease up, you pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You could already feel your skin heating up in embarrassment and started to shrink in on yourself. “I just thought–”

Before you could finish your sentence, his other hand came up to frame your face, and his lips crashed against yours. This time, the kiss was like something out of a novel or like what you’d seen in the movies, passionate, sparks going off and fireworks erupting. All the cliches and interchangeable love songs had been right.

You broke away at the same time, both out of breath. Your gaze flickered down to his lips to see they were swollen, a lovely shade of red.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice soft like he was afraid speaking any louder would disrupt the peace that enveloped you both like a warm blanket. “I wanted to do that for a long time, too.”

It was like he could read your mind. He caressed your cheek, and you melted into a malleable ball of putty in his hands. You sighed and closed your eyes, a dopey smile on your lips.

The bubble that had encapsulated you both popped when someone cleared their throat behind you. You pulled away from each other in an instant and turned your heads to see a nurse looming over you.

“Time for bed,” he grunted and didn’t say anything more.

You both crept down the hall like schoolkids who had managed to get away with something naughty, giggling to yourselves. You stopped in front of the door to your room, and he paused in front of his a couple doors down from you.

“Good night.” You bit back a smile. You wanted to kiss him again, but knew better than to risk it. The nurses would be on their rounds soon.

He leaned back against the door to his room. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

You raised a brow. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?” You shook your head. “Wow, you really are a nerd.”

You pushed through your door without saying anything else.

You slept peacefully that night for the first time in ages.

Finally, your unconscious state wasn’t plagued by nightmares, by shadow creatures chasing after you while your legs felt like lead. Instead, you dreamed about laying in a wide open field with Steven while staring up at the night sky. He would point out all the different constellations to you, rambling about each one at length, while you’d be preoccupied looking at him like he was the one who hung the stars in the sky. You’d much rather stare into his eyes than at the night for hours at a time any day.

When you woke, your eyes fluttered open, and you stretched your limbs with a groan. Remnants of your dream started to come back to you, and you grinned like an idiot, hiding your face in your pillow. It was still dark in your room, and you half-rose to glance over at the alarm clock on the bedside table to see it was still the middle of the night.

You huffed, though you supposed you should still be grateful. You couldn’t remember the last time you got that many hours of sleep in a row. Maybe kissing Steven wasn’t the cure-all to everything right away. Or maybe you’d have to go farther with him next time to get even more shut eye…

Before your thoughts could veer off into dangerous territory, the skin on the back of your neck rose to stand on end, and you shivered despite the covers on top of you. You looked over at the door, and sure enough, you could see a shadowed face peeking through the window into your room.

You were about to shrug and write it off as one of the nurses checking in on you when the face’s features struck you as odd. Your blood ran cold through your veins when you realized who you were looking at.

It was Marc. At least, you thought it was him. The lines of his face were too stern and the pitch of his eyes too dark to be indicative of Steven.

You managed to break from the paralyzed trance he caught you in and reached up for the light switch on the wall. You flipped it, flooding the room with light that had you wincing. You looked back at the door, but the little, square window was empty, showing nothing but the blank wall in the hallway.

He was gone.

The next day, you ran over to Steven’s room first thing after you dressed. His door was wide open, though when you scanned inside, he was nowhere to be found. You heard the telltale sound of running water from the adjoining bathroom and deduced that he was in the shower.

You took the open door as an invitation to come in and took a seat on his bed, deciding to wait for him. You tapped your foot against the floor as you smoothed your hands over the covers. His bed was perfectly made, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You imagined him tucking in the sheets to your shared bed when he got up in the morning while you grumbled, pulling the comforter closer around you.

Your cheeks burned as you thought of how many times you’d imagined messing up his bed with him. Now that your feelings were out in the open, would that be a possibility? It’d be tricky with the nurses doing their rounds, though you supposed an hour was enough time to sneak in at least a little bit of fun.

You were drawn from your salacious thoughts when you looked down to see something wedged between the mattress and the bed frame. You furrowed your brow at the piece of fabric. Normally, you would’ve minded your business, but the pattern looked oddly familiar…

You yanked it out from where it was stuck and held it out in front of you. A pit formed in your stomach when your sneaking suspicion was confirmed: it was the pair of underwear you’d lost a couple weeks ago.

You blinked as all the blood drained from your face. You pinched them on both sides between your thumb and your forefinger. You looked inside to see that they weren’t clean. In fact, there was a dried substance crusted over the crotch.

You flung your underwear across the room. At the same time, the door to the bathroom flung open, and your underwear smacked the bare chest of a fresh out of the shower Steven before falling to the floor.

You both stared at each other for a moment, neither one of you daring to speak. You were too consumed by your recent discovery to be fazed by the fact that he had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

He said your name, his hair straight and plastered to his face like a wet rat. “What are you doing in my room?”

You ignored him. “What’s that?” You pointed to the underwear on the floor.

He looked at you in bewilderment. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, I found them in your room tucked into the side of your bed.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t put them there, I swear.” He stumbled over his words as he spoke. “It must’ve been Marc.”

“Marc, huh?” You clenched your jaw. “I’m guessing it was also Marc who was peeping at me last night?”

His brows drew together, and his upper lip curled in confusion. “What?”

“I woke up last night and saw you staring at me through the window.” You’d thought maybe you were still dreaming when it happened, but now you knew it had very much been real. “Originally I thought it was Marc, but now I’m not so sure…”

“What are you implying?” he asked.

“I talked to Marc a couple weeks ago, before you were secluded again,” you said.

His mouth fell open. He looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think it was important at the time, but now that I know you might be creeping on me…”

“I am not creeping on you!” he interrupted.

“He told me I wasn’t safe and that ‘he’ was going to hurt me.” You stared him dead in the eye. “Who else could that be referring to, Steven?”

“Why are you taking his word over mine?” he fired back. “You don’t even know him!”

You stood up. “Why don’t I talk to Marc then and get this all sorted out?”

He looked disgusted. “That’s not how it works. You can’t just summon one of us like a dog waiting at your beck and call.”

“Well, that’s very convenient for you to blame everything on someone who can’t even defend himself,” you spat. “It must be nice to never have to take accountability for your actions.”

He stumbled back a step, like your words had slapped him in the face. You softened a little bit at his pained expression, but your blood was boiling hot in your veins with fear and anger and embarrassment, urging you to keep going.

“Is everything alright in here?”

You both looked over to see a nurse hovering in the doorway, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two of you.

You stepped away from Steven. “Everything’s fine. We’re finished here.” You looked back at him, sneering, “If you see Marc, tell him he got what he wanted.”

You stomped towards the hall. You paused in the doorway and glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Oh, and you can keep those by the way.” You gestured to the underwear still on the floor by his feet. “They’re ruined now.”

And then you left without turning back.

Today was the day Steven was finally going home.

You stood in the corner of the rec room, watching him. He sat at one of the tables near the double doors, his leg bouncing up and down impatiently. It was the first time you’d ever seen him out of a hospital gown, and you didn’t even get to tell him how adorable he looked in his jacket and flat cap. You wondered if those were the clothes he’d worn when he checked in all those many months ago.

You were surprised at how quickly he managed to recover. It only took him a couple days to be discharged after his fight with you. You wondered if you’d been what was holding him back all along, and now he was doing better without you.

Your whole body ached with guilt over what you’d said. You wished you could take it all back, to suck up all the venom you had spewed so easily. You wished you’d heard him out and hadn’t been blinded by rage. Maybe you’d reacted too quickly. Maybe it’d all been a misunderstanding.

But it was too late. He was leaving now.

You watched as a nurse came over to him and told him something that made him stand up. He started towards the double doors, and your heart pounded in your chest. Before you knew what you were doing, your feet carried you over to him.

“Steven!” you called out. “Wait!”

He stopped right as his hand rested on the double doors. He turned around, facing you with a blank, unreadable expression. You stood on the other side of the white line on the ground separating you, shifting your weight from foot to foot and toying with your fingers.

You hadn’t even thought of what to say before you went storming after him. All the things you’d wanted to say to him for weeks rested on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to spill out: I didn’t mean what I said. I miss you. Please don’t go. I love you.

But there was one thing above all the rest that you wanted to say to him more than anything.

“Steven, I’m…” Your voice sounded impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He stared at you, long and hard for a moment. You could feel your pulse throb in your wrists as you waited anxiously for his response.

“I have to go.” There was something off about his voice. It didn’t hit your ears right. “My ride’s here.”

Then, he turned and pushed through the double doors without looking back.

You stood there, watching the doors swing on their hinges while your heart cracked in two in your chest. You swallowed down everything else you desperately wanted to tell him, and all your unspoken words sank in your gut like a stone.

You went back to life before you met Steven.

After living in color for so long, it felt strange to see in black and white again. You withdrew into yourself, not going to groups, eating meals in your room, skipping out on games of Golf with the other patients. You were no longer content with the meager friends you’d make who’d leave in a couple of days. You wanted him.

You’d had hope that maybe there was a chance you’d leave and stay gone once, but now you were sure you were never getting out.

You were lying on your side, staring at the blank wall in your room. You were thinking about the time Steven tried to teach you French (which you had failed at miserably, but you really just wanted to hear him speak the language of love) when you noticed how eerily silent it was. In the middle of the day, there was always some noise in the unit, but now it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Footsteps cut through the quiet drawing closer to your room. You twisted around to watch as a figure passed by. You caught a glimpse of them through the window in the door, their face shadowed by the flat cap low on their head.

Your heart rate spiked. It couldn’t be…

You threw the covers off of you and jumped out of bed in a hurry. You peeked your head out of the room just in time to see him turn the corner. You slipped down the hall, following in his tracks. You wondered if you were seeing things, if you’d finally truly lost it. Only one way to find out…

You rounded the corner and noticed the door to Arthur’s room was open. You furrowed your brow as you crept forward. You peered into the room and saw the figure with his back to you, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his jacket as he hunched over.

“Steven?” you asked, hopeful. Had he come back for you like he promised?

The man stood up straight and whirled around to face you. Your face fell. The man you were looking at had Steven’s face, but his eyes were cold and dark without the usual twinkle in them. They made goosebumps rise on your arms.

You stumbled back a step. “You’re not Steven.” And judging by the harsh, grim lines of his features, he wasn’t Marc, either.

He swayed to the side and something behind him caught your eye. Arthur was sprawled out on his bed with his mouth open in a silent scream, his wide eyes boring into you. A red stain bloomed in the middle of his white hospital gown.

He was dead.

The man smiled. “Allí estás, querida.” He took a step towards you. “Esperaba que te presentaras.”

That’s when you noticed the gun he was gripping in his gloved hand.

You opened your mouth to scream, but he was on you in a second, clamping a gloved hand over your mouth. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back flush against his solid chest. “Silencio,” he hissed in your ear.

You writhed against him, kicking your legs, but his hold on you remained strong. Your screams came out muffled against his hand. He dragged you down the halls like you weighed no more than a feather, even as you struggled. You tried to dig your heels into the ground, but that did little to deter him.

As he carried you, you noticed the carnage he’d left in his wake: patients and nurses alike, some you’d known for months, slumped over on the floor and painted scarlet. You were oddly enough thankful for his hand over your mouth as you gagged, your stomach contracting in on itself.

He pushed through a door and yanked you outside. You squinted against the harsh light assaulting your eyes to see you were behind the hospital. You sucked in a breath of fresh air through his hand covering your nose and mouth. You had no idea your first time outside in months would be like this.

He pulled you over to a white limousine that was parked behind the hospital. He wrenched open the door and threw you inside. You landed on the plush seats, and he slid in after you, closing the door behind him and shutting out the light behind the tinted windows.

You instinctively reached for the door handle, but before your fingers made contact, you heard the lock click into place. That didn’t stop you from tugging on it anyway. “Let me out!” you yelled, slapping your palms against the glass. “Help! Somebody, please!”

He sneered as he grabbed hold of the back of your hospital gown, ripping you away from the door. His other hand holding the gun came up and brought it down on you, smacking you clear across the face. Your head fell to the side, your cheek already blazing. The inside of your mouth was cut from where metal had struck against teeth, the copper taste of blood flooding your mouth.

You clutched the side of your face, your cheek throbbing under your palm. Your skin stung and was already starting to swell. You backed away from him and pressed yourself against the other side of the limo, as far away from him as you could get in the confined space.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whimper.

He chuckled, and the sound made a chill run down your spine. “Si quisiera matarte, ya estarías muerta.”

You wrinkled your brow. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How’s this, princesa? Better for you?” he asked in a thick hispanic accent.

You swallowed hard around the lump in your throat. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Jake Lockley.” He tilted his head, eyes trailing over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “I’ve been waiting to finally meet you for a long time, querida. It’s a shame you had to behave the way you did.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You kidnapped me.”

“I could’ve done way worse. You saw what I did to your little amigos back there.” His lips split open into a grin. “You should be thanking me right now.”

You gritted your teeth, thinking about the corpses littering the hallways of the unit at this very moment. “Why did you kill them?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said, though he didn’t sound apologetic in the slightest, “but they were in the way of my target.”

You furrowed your brow. Target? The image of him hunched over Arthur’s dead body covered in blood flashed unbidden in your mind, and you had to keep from retching again. He’d been after Arthur the entire time.

“Why?” you asked. Was he some kind of hitman or something? “Why did you kill him?”

He leaned back in his seat, his lips tilted into a lopsided smirk. “That’s for reasons far beyond your understanding.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?” you snapped. “Or is that also too far beyond my understanding?”

He wasn’t fazed by your temper. In fact, he seemed impressed by it. “You got quite the mouth on you, querida.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s one of the things that drew me to you.”

There was an intensity in his eyes, an almost sort of fondness he held for you. Your eyes went wide. The underwear. Marc’s warnings. The face in the window. They’d been him this entire time.

Steven was right, and you had called him a liar to his face.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Jake continued. “I was worried you’d become a distraction that’d I’d have to get rid of, but that was before you proved yourself useful to me.”

You curled your upper lip. “Useful?”

“You knew all the exits and entrances to the building, when the nurses would be on rounds and change shifts, all the blind spots on the security cameras.” He spread his arms wide. “I have to hand it to you. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d have been able to pull it off.”

The world started to spin around you. You’d known everything there was about the unit and told it all to him so freely. He’d taken advantage of the knowledge you’d acclimated after being there for so long and your loneliness. You’d practically served Arthur to him on a silver platter.

“No…” you muttered under your breath. You shook your head, your breath accelerating to the point where you were nearly hyperventilating. “No…”

“Think of it this way: without you, a lot of more people would’ve potentially died.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like he was discussing the pros and cons of buying a new car. “Consider the fact that I’m sparing your life as my repayment for your help.”

You squared your jaw. “Thank you,” you spat.

He hummed, his eyes sliding over you. “I can think of some other ways you can show your appreciation.”

He reached forward and cupped your face in his gloved hand, stroking your skin with his fingers. Your muscles locked into place, your pulse thrumming at the pace of a hummingbird’s wings. You tried to shirk him off, but he tightened his grip until he was squishing your face, the leather of his gloves painfully digging into your skin.

“Steven,” you tried to say, but it came out garbled. “Steven, I know you’re in there. Don’t let him hurt me.”

“He already told you that’s not how this works, remember?” He leered at you. “But don’t worry. He’ll be watching everything I do to you.”

You were thankful he was holding your chin so tight, stifling the sob that threatened to come out of you.

He tilted your head this way and that like you were a pet he was appraising. “I meant it when I said you have quite the mouth.” His tone was menacing. “But I think I have a better use for it.”

He pinched your cheeks closer together, forcing your lips apart. “Open.” He pushed a gloved finger into your mouth.

A fire burned in your eyes as you prepared to bite down. He must’ve felt your jaw tense, because he started tutting. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

You felt the metal silencer on the gun in his hand press against the side of your head, and your body went stiff. “I’d hate to blow your pretty brains out all over the inside of this limo.” He smirked. “It just got cleaned.”

He slipped another finger into your mouth, parting your lips even further. He thrust them in and out, feeling around the wet cavern of your mouth. His fingers were so thick, they filled the entirety of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and pushing against the roof of your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t want to see his face, the same face you’d admired and adored for so long, twisted into something so cruel and ruthless and menacing.

“Open your eyes,” he hissed, pressing the gun harder against your head. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped open, staring up into his unforgiving ones. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, the leather shiny and glistening. He shifted his grip on your chin, and your saliva felt cold and tacky against your skin.

“I wanted to see you like this from the first day I saw you.” His voice was low. “On your knees for me like the putita you are.”

His hand shifted on the gun, and then he was pushing it into your mouth. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull, and you made a noise of defiance, pushing against his knees. He didn’t ease up, sliding it further into your mouth. You stilled when it hit your uvula, your throat constricting painfully around the metal.

The gun retreated, and you sagged in his grip a little bit, exasperated. But then he thrust it all the way back into your mouth, forcing you to gag again. “Come on, putita. Treat it like a cock,” he taunted you. “You know how to suck cock, don’t you?”

You looked at where his finger hovered over the trigger and knew what he would do if you didn’t comply. You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head in time with his thrusts despite the way you trembled in his grip. Your mouth squelched each time the gun sank to its limit.

“That’s it, cariño,” he purred. He let go of his grip on your chin to pet the top of your head condescendingly. “Isn’t it so much better when you’re a good girl for me?”

The gun was massive, thicker than his fingers and even longer due to the silencer almost doubling its length. And he insisted you took all of it, shoving it down your throat. Your jaw ached from how wide it was pried apart, and your dry lips cracked around where the gun slid into your mouth. Your tears mixed with where your drool collected on your chin, dripping onto your lap below.

He pulled the gun out with an impatient growl. You sputtered, coughing for air. Your lips were swollen and sore from all the abuse they’d already suffered.

“Turn around,” he demanded.

You froze, fear seeping deep into your marrow. You stared up at him with wide, unblinking eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“Turn around,” he repeated, gritting his teeth. “Now.”

You still didn’t move. He got fed up and grabbed you by the hair. You cried out as he yanked on your scalp, forcing you to turn around. He pushed on your head, and you crumpled to your hands and knees in front of him.

Alarm bells went off in your head when you heard the jingle of his belt behind you. “I thought you were done with this.” He undid the buckle lightning fast, tugging it loose through the loops on his pants and whipping it off. “What happened to my good girl?”

“Please, don’t,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. “I’ll do anything, but not this.” Not like this.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, querida,” he sneered, pushing up your hospital gown. “You may not want me, but I know you’ve wanted this body for a long time. I saw the way you looked at Steven.”

You wailed as he pulled down your pants, your underwear going with it. He leaned down and pressed his nose against your folds, inhaling deeply. Your body tensed, your face flushing with embarrassment.

“I love your scent.” He sighed dreamily. “I used to jerk my cock late at night, smelling your panties, but the real thing is even better.”

He retracted from you, and you went lax under him until you felt him position himself at your entrance. “I can’t wait to get inside you any longer.”

Panic flared in you. “Wait–” you started to beg but were cut off as he pushed into you.

You wheezed, jolting forward as he thrusted into you to the hilt. You fell to your elbows, arching your spine as his grip on your hair kept your head up. Each time he thrust into you hard, it felt like a punch to the gut. His hold on your hair was so tight, you thought he would rip the strands straight from your scalp.

You tried to scramble away from him until you felt the gun pressed against the back of your head. “Don’t test my patience, putita,” he grunted.

You went still and squeezed your eyes shut, your chin wobbling as you held back sobs. Even without the gun, you knew you’d be helpless against him. He could overpower you easily. At least now you weren’t forced to look at his face anymore.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned. Sure enough, there was a telltale squelch as he fucked into you, every ridge and vein of him sliding against your sensitive walls. “Is this all for me?”

You yelped as he sped up the pace, the clap of flesh against flesh filling the interior of the limo. He let go of his grip on your hair, and your head fell forward against the seat. He brought his hand down on your ass hard, eliciting a squeak from you. You were sure you’d have an imprint of his glove on your cheek for days afterward.

“Do you think Steven could fuck you this good, huh?” He leaned forward to growl in your ear, his hand slipping down to rub at your clit. “‘Cause I don’t think he’d last more than thirty seconds in this warm, tight pussy.”

You bucked against him involuntarily as he rubbed light, fast circles over your clit, the fingers of his gloved hand sticky with your spit brushing against the bundle of nerves just right. Your vision went white as pleasure spread across your whole body. You clawed at the leather of the seats, leaving scratch marks as you convulsed around him.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s it.” His voice was husky as he didn’t let up on your clit. “Come for me, putita.”

You mewled from the oversensitivity as you came down from your high. The guilt and shame set in, heavy like a stone in your gut, and you felt sick to your stomach getting off on this man forcing himself on you.

“Do you think Marc could make you come that hard?” He pressed the gun harder into your head until it dug into your scalp. “‘Cause I think he would finish before he could get to feel you squeeze his cock like that.”

He hammered into you at a frantic, rapid pace. He shoved your head into the cushions until you couldn’t suck in a full breath of air. You scrambled, trying to push yourself up with your hands pressed against the seat, but his hold on you didn’t budge an inch. Your screams came out muffled, and your lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck, just like that.” His voice started to rise in pitch, and his thrusts lost rhythm. “You’re gonna make me come, putita. I’m gonna fill you up, have you dripping with me for days.”

You were too out of it to try to protest. Your head swam as you felt him thrust into you as deep as he could. He stilled as he came inside of you, flooding your insides with his hot seed.

He pulled out of you and flipped you over. You gasped for air, greedily sucking in sharp intakes of breath. The fuzzy, gray dots clouding your vision started to clear just as his lips crashed into yours, stealing what little breath you’d manage to inhale. He forced his tongue into your mouth and ran it along the cut on the inside of your cheek, making it sting all over again.

He pulled away from you and licked his lips, painting them red with your blood. You slumped back against the seat, overcome with exhaustion. He looked down at where his come mixed with your juices trickled out of your abused hole, pooling on the leather cushions beneath you.

“Khonshu is not gonna like that,” he muttered to himself. He took off his hat to rake a hand through his sweaty locks before putting it back on. “He’s not gonna like where I’m taking you either.”

He rose, ducking his head as he climbed into the front seat. You mustered enough strength to lift your head. “Where are you taking me?” you rasped.

You caught his dark gaze in the rearview mirror. He twisted around in his seat to look at you over his shoulder, raising the gun still clutched in his hand as a reminder of his power over you. (Not that he needed to. You were too weak to fight him now, anyway.)

“You’re coming with me.” His lips parted in a smirk. “Steven said he wouldn’t leave without you, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

Translations:

Querida - Darling

Cariño - Sweetheart

Princesa - Princess

Putita - Little bitch/slut

Silencio - Silence

Amigos - Friends

“Allí estás. Esperaba que te presentaras.” - “There you are. I was hoping you would show up.”

“Si quisiera matarte, ya estarías muerta.” - “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

#dark!fic #moon knight #marvel #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x y/n #marc spector x y/n #jake lockley x y/n #fanfiction #one shot

[canarydarity]

Tango hadn’t quite yet wrapped his mind around the fact that he was here. Having done it now three times before didn’t make starting over any easier, didn’t make the game any less terrifying. He tried not to let his eyes stray to the timer perpetually counting down in the corner of his vision, but it didn’t matter—each beat of his heart was a second, and his pulse was keeping time even if he was trying not to. 

Tango thrust the shovel back into the ground, the dirt on their island moist and clumpy instead of crumbling and dry, and resolutely ignored the reminder that this game—like all the others—would likely end with him fertilizing this very ground. He wasn’t really expecting to win. Tango had no idea why it was that he was here. 

“Oh, it’s Joel!” Etho called from the other end of their small patch of land, and the call sounded like a warning. At first, Tango was thinking about how you almost wouldn’t believe the two had been soulmates last time, but as he thought about it, he changed his mind; what is a soulmate but he who knows and understands you best of all? If Etho’s call was a warning, it was because he knew Joel demanded one. 

He hadn’t looked up, but the waves made by Etho’s boat washed further up the shore toward the ground Tango was terraforming, and he shuffled a step or two to the side in distaste. He hated the water; it always made him feel…extinguished. 

“I can’t believe you’ve replaced me with a cow, Etho!” 

Tango snorted. No offense to Joel, but he could. It was probably more telling of Etho though than his spurned ex-soulmate. 

Tango pulled his shovel out of the ground, tossing its contents off to the side. He primed to dig into the ground again.

“Hey guys, are you setting up here, by the way?”

He stopped. Tango knew that voice—he spent weeks obtaining fluency in its passive anxiety, in the undertones of worry about doing something wrong. 

He had no trouble finding Jimmy; Tango simply looked up and he was there, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck like he did when he was feeling unsure. His face was scrunched in a kind of wince and his eyes shifty, but this too was not unusual for him. The familiarity hit Tango like a truck—no, that wasn’t enough. What hit harder than a truck?

He hadn’t seen Jimmy since…

Since when? Since they’d watched Scar get eaten by zombies? Since they got separated in the commotion of having succeeded in leveling the playing field of green names and changing targets? Since whatever last brush of shoulders or arms or hands occurred before he fell to his knees, alone, on the doorstep of the boat Joel and Etho argued over now only a few feet away?

“Cause…we’re the bad boys and we were gonna set up here.” Jimmy finished awkwardly, trying to sound firm and falling flat; the phrase came off like it was said by a kid who was threatening you with a toy sword but acting like he could use it to deal you some good damage. 

Tango raised an eyebrow; it took him only a second later to realize that he was smiling (he wondered when that had started). Bad boys, huh? One guess as to where that name came from—but Tango couldn’t let his gaze stray from Jimmy to lay eyes on Joel; he heard him and Etho bickering in the background, but it breached not a thought in Tango’s mind. 

He wanted to laugh, or—no, he wanted to play scared; he wanted to double over and fake being in pain like anyone should do when pretend stabbed by a kid playing with things he couldn’t understand. 

But Joel was still yelling and Etho was still taunting, and the division between this little island and the hill across the water was clear. Tango dropped his shovel and wiped his hands off on his pants so he didn’t do anything stupider.

Skizz and Impulse giggled and laughed about Jimmy’s claims, but Jimmy seemed none the wiser; stopping to place a furnace and quickly cook some steak; glancing over his shoulder, glancing at those on the island, glancing at Joel. These games always made him jumpy, Tango knew that. 

Tango hadn’t looked away, which was how he knew Jimmy’s gaze didn’t land on him once. 

It was Etho that caught his attention at last. “No! Don’t you dare…”

Tango scrambled up the slant he was working on to see Etho on the other side rowing away, cow in tow, and Joel smirking on the edge of the sand, arrow notched. There was not a second more of observation before he let it fly and it made its mark. 

Tango whined at the loss; of course, Joel had no way of knowing just how hard a time they’d been having with their bovine friends, but even if he had, he’d likely just have laughed. 

“YES!” he heard Joel scream, jumping around in the sand; a sore-winner he definitely was. 

Tango was already skidding down the side of their island and into the water when Joel shouted again, “Jimmy, run!”

He heard his soulmates cry of “wait wait wait!” but wasted no glance backward as he climbed up onto the mainland, shaking water out of his hair as he did; steam evaporated off of him as droplets flew. 

“Hey!” Tango shouted after Joel, though he clearly only had eyes for antagonizing Etho. “that took us 30 minutes to find!” 

Tango was knocked over from behind before he got the chance to see if he’d managed to get through to Joel at all (this was probably for the best, as he definitely hadn’t). He felt the fine gravel of the sand dig into his palms where he caught himself, but he barely registered the tick of damage from the shove and subsequent collapse; not like he felt it from the realization of who it had come from.  

Eyes wide and blinking like he couldn’t believe what it was he’d done either, there was Jimmy, only a few feet away. His chest heaved from the running, but he was otherwise still, half turned towards where Tango kneeled on the ground, half turned towards where Joel was running off into the woods. 

Neither of them looked away. Tango felt his health regenerate, but he didn’t think he believed it. Sure, he was at full hearts, but then why did he feel like the sand beneath him was shifting and making space for his burial; had Grian coded in some sort of quicksand?

Tango used their hesitation to process the fact that this hit hadn’t harmed them both; he knew logically that it shouldn’t have, but the experience was something else entirely; the feeling somewhat akin to grief.

“C'mon, Jimmy,” fell out of the trees to which Jimmy’s back was turned, and Tango watched him tense as the sound reached them both. Also behind him and to their right was Etho climbing out of his boat, feet touching down on the shore, path ahead pre-determined. 

Jimmy broke their eye contact only to close his eyes, and when he opened them again he swallowed and said “sorry, rancher,” feet beginning to backpedal. It was quiet enough that Tango could believe it just for him, and that implication of not wanting anyone else to hear shoveled the last of the dirt on Tango’s corpse, surely, it had to. Jimmy didn’t turn away—not until he stumbled and absolutely had to, not being able to risk the danger of walking backwards anymore. 

Tango rubbed his hands on his pants, feeling the sand and stray pebbles peel themselves from the indents they’d created in his palms upon impact, scrambling to his feet to follow. He bent only to scoop up a rock on his way. 

Even just inside the first row of trees, the forest was a different place entirely. The beach fell away, but the scene change didn’t do anything to turn the tide of their circumstances. Tango stopped just behind Etho, caught up just in time to hear:

“Everything precious you have in this series, Joel, it’ll be taken from you, you understand?”

Joel didn’t look concerned. He was still smirking, still playing up the part of the bitter ex (and seemingly getting too much enjoyment out of it, for Tango's liking). It was just like Joel to enjoy the breakup more than the relationship. 

Jimmy was further away, half behind Joel and resolutely avoiding looking in Tango’s direction; he was always hiding behind things he was taller than. Tango remembered when Jimmy’s go-to source of cover used to be him. 

Joel just rolled his eyes, a scoff his only response. He placed both hands on Jimmy and pushed, jumpstarting him into moving. Tango somehow managed to resist the urge to narrow his eyes further. He dropped the rock he was holding—he felt stupid for grabbing it now; it wasn’t like he was going to throw it; it wasn’t like he was capable. 

Bad boys they’d said; the Jimmy that Tango remembered had been kind. Maybe he had to rework his definition of a soulmate; he didn’t think he wanted to. 

Etho turned too, having done what he’d intended. Tango felt more so than saw Etho pat him on the shoulder as he passed. He didn’t need to look at his timer to know that not even 3 minutes had passed. 

“Yeah, I’m with you, Etho,” he said—but he was still staring off into the trees. He watched until Joel and Jimmy had woven too far into them to be visible anymore, but Jimmy didn’t turn back once.

#hey guys i havent thought about anything besides jimmy hitting tango for days hahaha #happy belated gay minecraft birthday to me amiright #worm writes #limited life spoilers #limited life #limited life fic #team rancher #boat boys #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #tangotek #tango tek #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #etho #ethoslab #team rancher fic #life series fic

[jihyocentric]

i had to delay the pup hyo due to personal stuff, but it's here finally!

-

perhaps nayeon was being a little evil when she gave jeongyeon that task, but she didn’t wake up in a good mood, upset with jeongyeon for an unknown reason, and doing that was her way to have her sweet revenge.

the instructions were rather simple, all jeongyeon had to do was brushing jihyo’s ears and tail, as it was the time in the month to get rid of the excess fur jihyo would left around the house.

it wasn’t a lot, but it bothered nayeon to have it in their sheets, on the ground or on the couch if jihyo were to sit there for a long period of time, and although jihyo hated to have her ears and tail groomed with a scary brush, she couldn’t run away from nayeon.

with jeongyeon, however, jihyo takes advantage on the fact that jeongyeon is clearly hesitant to touch her when she’s whining and asking her not to, successfully avoiding being brushed, despite being slightly scared of what nayeon would once she got back home.

but it wasn’t always like this. at some point when nayeon had just gotten her, jihyo used to love having her ears and tail brushed. the affection she’d get from nayeon was everything she’d ever wanted, and after the grooming she’d receive cuddles and treats for being a good puppy.

she started rejecting it after she saw the amount of hair nayeon took from her.

nayeon had been careful not to let jihyo see it, but the only moment she slipped and accidentally didn’t hide it from jihyo before throwing the excess fur away, jihyo decided that she didn’t want to be brushed anymore, as the brush nayeon used was allegedly stealing something from her, a part of her.

that very same reason is what she explains to jeongyeon, tucking her head into jeongyeon’s neck the third time she tries to make jihyo comply. the puppy even goes as far as rejecting the fruit snacks offered to her, determined to escape this month’s grooming.

jeongyeon palms jihyo’s ears, carefully tugging at the fur. she shows jihyo that she was truly shedding, hopeful that it would make her understand that it was time to let it go, but jihyo doesn’t seem to care at all.

“we need to do it, pup,” jeongyeon sighs, nearly going insane, not knowing what to do when jihyo looked at her with her bottom lip sticking out, eyes shining, almost crying. “it’s for your health.”

“but my ears will look bad,” jihyo whines, tail between her legs, ears flopping down. “they won’t be as soft and fluffy!”

“of course they will,” jeongyeon quickly assures. “it’ll be fast and i’m only taking what is already shed, i promise, pup.”

jihyo hums and shrinks in jeongyeon’s lap, trying to get away from the discussion, not wanting to make any deals with jeongyeon, resolute in her decision to not be brushed that day.

“we should do it before nayeon comes back,” jeongyeon adds, her heart tightening at the guilt she feels by making jihyo purposefully scared, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “her methods won’t be as nice as mine and you’ll even get treats and cuddles from me. what do you think, puppy?”

jihyo’s eyes widen at the mention of nayeon, thinking about the last time nayeon brushed her.

she wasn’t the best puppy, jihyo knew that, especially when she bit nayeon, but getting silent treatment from nayeon was even scarier than being scolded. jihyo didn’t want to go through that again.

despite the slight tremble of her body when she reminds of the last time she had to be groomed, jihyo was still determined to have it on her terms, tail wagging when she has an idea.

if she had to be brushed and lose a part of her, then she had the right to get something from the pain they were putting her through — even when there was no pain involved when she had to be brushed.

“will you get me new legos?” jihyo mumbles softly against jeongyeon’s neck, tail swishing, suddenly interested in that conversation. “been asking for them but nayeonie says i have to be good to get them.”

jeongyeon swallows thickly, wondering if the price of momentary peace was worth it.

“maybe…” jeongyeon replies slowly, instantly regretting it.

“i’ll let you do it.” jihyo pulls back, a big grin on her face, leaning in and kissing jeongyeon’s lips briefly, excited to get what she wanted.

jeongyeon laughs nervously, uncertain of how she’d hide from nayeon that she had just bribed jihyo into having her fur brushed, deciding to think about her other problems later.

jihyo sits on the couch willingly, letting jeongyeon run the brush against her ears and her tail, the object not as scary as it used to be when she thinks about the worse alternatives: having nayeon being mad at her or not getting a new set of legos.

if jihyo hadn’t been stubborn before, she would’ve known it felt good way before jeongyeon groomed her. she was nearly sleeping, head fallen back against the couch, ears twitching softly, pliant when jeongyeon made her turn around so that her back faced her, moving from her ears to jihyo’s tail.

nayeon walks in silently, shocked by what she sees, both angry because it looked like jeongyeon didn’t struggle at all to get jihyo to be groomed when she wanted her to, and incredibly jealous that jihyo was letting jeongyeon brush her without whining and trying to bite her.

“how did you…” nayeon lets out shakily, trying not to give away that she was upset.

“u-uh…” jeongyeon stutters, taking the brush away from jihyo’s tail, the puppy peacefully sleeping with her head fallen back to the side. “i just… promised her c-cuddles and treats.”

“oh, great!” nayeon huffs and walks away, going straight to the kitchen with the groceries she’d bought while she was out.

jeongyeon follows her, trying to figure out why nayeon was suddenly snappy, but not before making sure jihyo was comfortable in her sleep.

“what did i do?!” jeongyeon asks from behind the counter, watching as nayeon aggressively took the groceries out of the bag.

“nothing!” nayeon replies loudly, her own voice making her flinch. “i’m sorry. it’s really not your fault…”

“what is it then?” jeongyeon sighs.

nayeon bites her lip. “did you date any girls from work? yesterday i heard some things… i know we weren’t together back then, but…”

“i didn’t date anyone,” jeongyeon says, as if she was trying to find the right words. “did you walk in when they were talking or…”

“i wasn’t supposed to hear it. they were embarrassed when they noticed i was there,” nayeon breathes out, hands shaking, not a fan of the feeling inside her chest. “there’s no reason for me to be jealous. do i sound stupid? i do, don’t i?”

jeongyeon smiles, relieved that it wasn’t something serious, walking around the counter to hug nayeon.

she kisses nayeon’s forehead sweetly, reassuringly.

“you don’t sound stupid.” jeongyeon tells her. “it’s cute, actually.”

“so cheesy.” nayeon groans, making jeongyeon lean down to kiss her cheek. “lunch is on you.”

nayeon pats her shoulders and leaves, wanting to join jihyo on the couch.

“but i cooked yesterday!” jeongyeon whines.

#drabble #nayeon #jeongyeon #jihyo #3mix #2yeon #nahyo #jeonghyo #puppy!hyo #sfw #non rq

[twig-tea]

My Ride Re-Watch Self-Reflection

This is going to be self-indulgent and long, apologies in advance!

Something you need to know about how I watch shows: I care the most about character arc. I prioritize character arc over plot holes, pacing, and possibly even politics. This is not an endorsement for watching shows this way AT ALL and it certainly isn't a moral judgment on any viewers that do or don't do this, it's just how my brain is wired (and it's not an objective judgment on shows, either! Not every character actually needs to grow--even though typing that out is giving me hives lolol). So when a character does something that I think is either out of character or unearned by the narrative, I get annoyed; if they don't change or they keep making the same mistakes I lose interest; and if a character arc is awesome, I forgive a lot of things that can make shows unwatchable to other people.

I watched My Ride as it aired in 2022 and I was so in love with that series, it was poised to become a favourite. I was so burnt out on series that had a misunderstanding leads to breakup in the second-last ep, and this show has sidestepped that with the conversation about Khai by having Mork insist on talking right away! Plus Tawan, through the entire fiasco with Por, was always direct, he didn't run from Por and he didn't ignore his own suspicions or jump to conclusions, he sought Por out to ask directly: "Are you mad at me?" "Did I do something wrong?" "Are you seeing someone else?" I loved both Tawan and Mork so much, they clearly deserved one another and deserved happiness.

And then at the end of ep 9/start of ep10, Tawan sees Mork hug Fern and runs away, quits his job before he finishes his certification and internship?! And Mork is the one who the narrative seems to think has to prove his commitment to their not-yet-a-relationship when he's been the one committed this whole time? I had 2gether flashbacks and I did not like it. I didn't like either side couple's resolution, I didn't like that Tawan had regressed in a way that didn't feel (to me, at the time) earned, and I didn't like that Mork didn't have any (again, to me at the time) character growth.

So I never rewatched it. I remembered the first 9 eps fondly, loved so much of what the show had in it, especially Cheep and Dej and the characters of Mork and Tawan, and recommended it when it came up, but always hesitated to put it on a favourites list, and I struggled with the ending and how I felt about it--at least partially because I suspected it was a me thing rather than a show thing. And then, after La Pluie, I realized this screenwriter was good and trusts their audience and I should give it another chance and maybe pay more attention. Plus the re-airing was perfectly timed to start. So I've been (mostly) quietly watching again, and whew I'm so glad I did.

I still don't love the side couples, lets get that out of the way lol [if you don't want to think about these storylines, skip this and the following paragraph]. I think Boss is neurodivergent-coded and you don't get "over" neurodivergence through force of will (at least, not without burnout). Thinking about this couple through the lens of Semantic Error, which you could argue is very similar on paper, Toy tries to pull Boss out of his carefully constructed world, while Jaeyoung tries to make space for himself in Sangwoo's world while doing his best to follow Sangwoo's rules (though he definitely pushes--but contrast Jaeyong moving a single pen to Toy throwing whole shelves of books to the ground). If My Ride had shown that Toy didn't need Boss to completely change, and had them find a way of working through Boss' and Toy's needs to find a new normal together, I would have been much more comfortable with this story. On rewatch, I will say that Toy's initial bribery attempt was not as bad as I remembered, but that man needs to keep his hands off those bookshelves, and the show needs to stop scaring Boss in order to give Toy one redeeming thing to do, as @callipigio said that was not cute.

As for the hets, the only thing I picked up on rewatch that I didn't appreciate the first time was that despite her confidence, Nadia was also not used to being chosen by the men in her life, and so when she saw Mayom had options after coming back from Japan, she assumed he would choose anyone else and that's why she was so upset. And so, the reveal that he got this attention because he was trying to meet her expectations, and that he was thinking of her in Japan and bought her a souvenir, showed he did put her first and did choose her. I just wish Nadia had suffered longer by seeing Mayom being appreciated for the hot, talented, and kind man he is, and had visibly learned something or changed in any way because of it. I don't think she has a satisfying character arc and so I didn't like this story. [again: this is just my taste! Not every story needs to contain personal growth! I am not advocating for this to be seen as a moral judgment! It just means this story was not satisfying for my brain because of it.]

Ok, Mork and Tawan time. This time, on rewatch, I picked up on hints they dropped earlier; that Mork struggled more than I noticed the first time with his bisexual awakening; that Mork didn't like how he hadn't gone to college or university, but he had been willing to make that sacrifice for Fern. How Tawan really missed his family and wanted to eventually practice medicine in Chiang Mai. How Tawan only ran from Mork and Fern after Mork described their relationship as work buddies [he not only calls them friends, he backtracks and says "not even really a friend, I know him from work"! And as @sparklyeyedhimbo pointed out in their rewatch, Mork had literally asked Tawan to co-parent just the day before, so the messages were extremely mixed]. All of this feeds into what happens in eps 9-10.

[Mork you were like this even when you were just "workplace associates", stop this foolishness]

Firstly, the timeline of ep 9-10 struck me on this rewatch in a way it didn't when watching the first time. If I'm not wrong, Tawan was already mostly burned out; his heartache led him to use up his accumulated vacation to go home to Chiang Mai, but then came back after just a few days because Mork missed him; then went to see Mork while he was still on vacation, got shocked by the existence of Mork's kid, spent a day or couple of days with them, then made study materials for Mork and Khai (likely because he knew he wouldn't have much time in the future) and then got surprised again by seeing Fern--this would I think still be during the week of his vacation? At that point, he just wanted to go back home to once again lick his wounds but his vacation was over and he had none left (he told us he used it all when talking to his parents at dinner). So in that context, actually, quitting as an instinct makes a bit more sense--I've actually been there, at one point I was going to burn out and put in my notice, and my boss stepped in and told me to take leave instead. I'm really glad his advisor was able to do the same thing my boss did for me, and talk him out of quitting but encouraging him to take leave instead so that he could go home without messing up his future.

And in paying better attention, I realized this time around that for Tawan, going back home rather than confonting Mork both made sense and was good for his character arc. Before this, he'd clearly not been visiting home at least partly because he kept taking shifts for friends, and partly to make time for Por; so after giving up some of his time in Chiang Mai to be with Mork, it makes sense he'd want to be there when he thought he might have read Mork wrong after all. And Tawan pushing and pushing Por to get answers blew up so badly in his face last time, that retreating rather than confronting Mork actually does make sense in context. Also, like Tawan said to Nadia, he was tired of not being put first, and when Mork didn't go after him outside the garage after Fern called him back, Mork had put Fern first in that moment. And up until then the only confessions Tawan (and the audience) has gotten from Mork were in Mork's imagination; he'd flirted but not actually said anything concrete aloud. So Tawan needing something more from Mork to prove that Mork actually does feel the way he's been implying, and he would put Tawan first, is fair and fits what took place in the show, actually--my past self was I think applying an unfair lens on this as a point of convenient dramatic tension. Finally, I realized on this rewatch that Tawan leaving without saying anything, after he knew Mork panicked last time and specifically told him not to do that, could be read as Tawan being a little bit selfish, actually, (which as @bengiyo said these two characters could use more of), and leaving to be chased after could be seen as Tawan (at least subconsciously) indulging a self-indulgent impulse. Having thought that through I now appreciate it as an action of his character arc rather than resenting it.

And now we get to Mork's character arc. Because Mork is already the best boy, so what could his character possibly stand to learn?

This was my thinking on first watch, but on rewatch I think he demonstrates that he grew in a few ways. First, he goes through the self-realization and acceptance of loving another man. I didn't give that journey enough credit the first time around.

Secondly, he re-orients himself after a breakup from a relationship that spanned multiple years. I know a lot of people saw the petrol/gas analog by Dej as learning to love men instead of women, but I saw it as learning to love Tawan rather than Fern--because they are two different people, and they have different things they need from you, and he has all of these learned patterns from his relationship with Fern that he has to unlearn, including putting her feelings first. Going back to the moment when Mork doesn't go after Tawan, if you accept my reading of Uncle Dej's advice, Mork's choice not to go after Tawan but instead to stay with Fern is contextualized through this conversation as Mork falling into old habits and putting Fern's wants and needs over all others including his own. He then corrects this by not agreeing to get back together with her, but not until promising to always be her smile--in other words, he's still struggling with reorienting himself in terms of who Mork is in relation to Fern when not her boyfriend. [This also makes Dej's pointed comment about gas being cheaper than petrol a pointed jab at Fern and her demands of Mork's money specifically, which the petty part of me enjoys.]

Mork also faced his fear of heights for Tawan, though he did that before he even acknowledged he had feelings, so I'm not sure I'm counting that as anything other than Mork continuing to be the best. But when, on the mountain, Mork finally says aloud the thing he's been daydreaming about for at this point months, this is definitely character growth and feeds into my first part about Mork struggling with his feelings for a man. I realized on this rewatch that Mork always talks about his feelings for Tawan as a hypothetical or a question--"Do I like him?" "Could we be together?" "If I do like him, what should I do?" He doesn't state his feelings as a statement except in his imagination (I think--may need to rewatch again to confirm), until the confession on the mountain. So, as @lurkingshan pointed out in her post, My Ride also makes the same point as La Pluie that clear, verbal communication is key to a relationship.

Mork also gets to be a teensy bit more selfish near the end, which I didn't really clock the first watch-through. When Tawan explains why he thought about quitting and how he wanted to relocate to Chiang Mai so that he could help take care of his mother, Mork's wheels started turning and he began planning for their future together up North--again this is not new, Mork planned his future with Fern and her goals in mind so it makes sense he'd be planning his future with Tawan in the same way. Because Mork is best. But! This time he includes in his future plans his goal to get a degree and open a garage of his own. I love this, it's such a small victory but I think it's important for his character that the thing he's seemingly regretted most about his choices (giving up on his own chance to go to school) and that he did for someone he loved (putting them through school) is now something he's doing for himself (as well as for his shared future with his partner). And this also reflects Mork internalizing Dej's point about how he's got to recalibrate--because what Tawan needs from Mork is not the same thing as what Fern needed from him, and these different circumstances allow him to adjust his future plans and fit in his own dreams. Love that for him.

I love that we get the timeskip to see a glimpse into their future, beyond it just being so sweet, it allows us to see the ways in which they've fit together, and how their relationship is not perfect--Tawan forgets their anniversary, Mork is trying to establish himself in a small community that probably does not open easily to outsiders--but it's balanced in that they support each other to make up for one another's weaknesses (Mork doesn't actually care and is happy to be the one who remembers these things; Tawan is happy to pay for the restaurant).

I didn't say anything about the Tawan/Por relationship above because I didn't really catch anything new on rewatch, from the get-go I thought it was so well done. Por is believably self-absorbed and Tawan really does such a good job of trying to do everything right. He talks to him directly and listen to his own instincts, but is surrounded by people (Por, Nadia, Mork) who tell him to let it go and ignore the signs. I continue to love to hate Por. This thread is a little unresolved because Por comes sniffing back around Tawan's ward, but we didn't really need to see Tawan reject Por, which I appreciated as the show writing him off as not a threat. I did pick up more on the glimpses of the kindness that La Pluie shows its female characters in how Fern is treated; Fern is shown to be selfish and materialistic, but also legitimately struggling with their life as-is, and by showing her trying to get Mork back, at least it gives her the credit of letting her realize what she was missing when it was gone. I'm glad La Pluie went further with keeping Nara complex and human.

Finally, I have to shout out how much love this show has for queer community and found family. Cheep and Dej give Mork and Tawan and even Fueang a safe haven to come to when they're hurt and confused, and they give so much advice. Everyone else has said it (I know @chickenstrangers mentions how special it is in their rewatch but I'm sure others have too) but it's worth repeating how much of a difference this makes for these characters.

Fueang and Mork also give one another advice and support, and I think it works well in the show that actually both Fueang and Mork can mostly just give support and some generic advice, but they can't speak from experience the way Cheep and Dej can. Still, the motorcycle gang support Fueang, and then Mork, in getting their respective partners. Tawan's sister knows exactly what is going on and gives Mork a challenge to make sure he's good enough for her brother. Fueang and the gang also show up in Chiang Mai because they're so sure their bro is going to mess up his confession, and then they cheer on the kiss when it does go well.

Mork taking on Khai as his own child when his brother failed to step up is also a beautiful reflection of the love and care his uncles gave to him and modeled for him; he clearly sees them as parental figures and was able to imagine himself as a parent to Khai because of it--and he never questions whether his getting together with a man would have a bad influence on his nephew/adopted son, the way we see Jim struggle with this in Moonlight Chicken, for example. More queer elders in stories please and thank you!

I feel so much less conflicted about this show now that I've gone through this exercise. Feel free to tell me if you think I got too far in my head and overanalyzed lol I'm always open to being told I'm now adding things that aren't there. I just really needed to deconstruct why I had issues last time and what changed for me when I paid more attention. Also, this experience makes me want to binge Step by Step to see if it makes a difference in how I feel about the ending to that show...but I don't think I'm ready for that yet.

And if you read all that, you're awesome.

#my ride the series #my ride rewatch 2023 #typed so i can stop thinking it

[wreckingtickles]

The Auction - Bundles 4 & 5 (NSFW)

The fifth chapter of a spicy tickle fic starring 8 (sort of) boys from MHA/BnHA.

I'll be the first to admit this one is a bit disappointing.

The Auction Masterlist

Words: 1,722

“And we’re back! Next up is Bundle 4. Since you seem to have had a lot of fun during the break, why not shoot for the electric toothbrushes again?”

But Bakugo wasn’t listening. He was both looking and not looking at Kirishima’s, the latter’s eyes still resolutely closed, his face still flushed.

“Shitty Hair.”

“Yeah? Are you ok?”

“My murder list just got a whole lot longer. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t be a moron. You’ll just make it worse for yourself.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Orange!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“See, Red is keeping his eyes closed because he doesn’t want to enjoy seeing his friends suffer. Isn’t that right, Red? Or are you afraid that something will happen and they’ll think you’re an even bigger perv?”

“I’LL FIND YOU AND END YOU IF YOU KEEP MOCKING HIM!!”

“How fiercely protective of you! Such… good friends you must be,” the announcer said with an emphasis that Bakugo didn’t like one bit.

“Baku-bro, stop,” whispered Kirishima, even redder than before, with none of his usual energy. It had all gotten to him.

“What a hero you are, Red. You know it will tickle more if you can’t see, yet you’re willing to take it. Is it moral superiority, or just saving face? Regardless… Bundle 4 begins now!”

Bzzt. The auctionees heard them before they felt them, like an angry swarm in the night. And then, the buzzing got drowned out.

“Ooh, I can already tell this is going to be a good one! But just to keep things fresh, let’s do single-perspective now!”

Bakugo

Kirishima and Deku were the first to break anew as two toothbrushes landed right in the center of their hollows. Even Bakugo knew that was Kirishima’s most ticklish spot. He’d made full use of it after the first time the idiot redhead had pounced on him, tickling him in front of Sero and Kaminari. Bakugo had waited for him to go back to his room, followed him inside, wrestled him to the ground, crossed his legs around his waist from behind, and clawed and scratched at Kirishima’s upper body to his heart’s content. Kirishima had begged him to stop after one minute; Bakugo hadn’t stopped for half an hour, which he’d almost entirely dedicated to the redhead’s ribs and armpits, which he’d immediately identified as his worst spots. Kirishima had laughed, begged, and wheezed, but nothing had been able to spare him Bakugo’s revenge.

But Bakugo was in no position to worry about his friend, because he wasn’t exactly un-ticklish himself. He huffed and puffed as the toothbrushes buzzed around the center of his hollows, but he would endure it, he had to. The real issue was that he was starting to sweat.

The vibrating asshole kept teasing him throughout, but Bakugo knew he couldn’t do anything other than scowl, too busy trying not to burst into laughter, and even then he knew he looked ridiculous. So he shifted his attention to the buzzing of the toothbrushes, the sound of his restraint clanging as he fought against the sensation, trying to ward off the poisonous words trying to worm their way into his ear.

Not even he knew how he did it, but somehow he made it through the whole thing without laughing, though mooing abundantly. But before he knew it, it started all over again, with ghostly hands squeezing at his thighs, digging into the innermost portion, thumbs nearly touching the orange boxers. It wasn’t as bad. But it was still more fighting. More struggling. More holding back. And Bakugo began to wonder how much longer he’d be able to hold out.

Shindo

When Shindo felt the toothbrushes land in his hollows, he smiled. Not because it tickled, no, the exact opposite. The harmless vibrations of the dental implements failed to gain purchase in his senses, accustomed as they were to his Quirk.

“This feels like a major oversight,” he commented out loud. He knew they knew.

“Luck of the draw, pure and simple! Is that regret I hear in your voice?”

“Ha, definitely not,” he scoffed. “I’m glad I get to enjoy the view.”

To his right, Midoriya was laughing his head off, as usual. It wasn’t something Shindo cared for particularly. What he did enjoy was the fact that despite the forced mirth, and actually because of it, the greenette looked broken. Flushed, sweaty, worn-out, almost in pain, but of a harmless kind. Overwhelmed. Seeing him like that stoked an appetite in Shindo, to dominate that toned, stocky form that somewhat clashed with the sweetness of the owner’s features, naïve and cute. What things Shindo could do to that young man, if only he could reach him. Tear off that green underwear. Make him go blind and keep him on that tortured edge. If none of what was happening was real, it had to be a dream. So why not make the most of it?

And yet, he couldn’t. So he looked to his right, and chuckled. That cocky jackass, fighting so hard not to laugh, making twice as much noise as if he were, and wasting that much more energy. Now that, that was also enjoyable, to see him fight a losing battle against the obvious. And it got Shindo wondering, would he be doing the same against a wave of pleasure? No doubt. Give him pain, give him bliss, until the façade crumbled, and he begged.

Ah, shit. He was hard again. That was frustrating. Time to distract himself.

“Hey. Your name’s Bakugo, right?”

The orange-clad hero was obviously trying to ignore him, as his scowl revealed.

“What are you doing? It’s so obvious you are very ticklish. Why not just laugh?”

No response.

“I’m sure they tickle a lot, those toothbrushes in your armpits. Don’t they? Ah, is that a smile I see? No? Can you imagine if they were all over your body? Like Transparent, whatever his name was. Can you imagine being in his place? I don’t think you’d be able to take it. But it would be so much fun to see you try. And fail.”

Bakugo had probably heard about half of what Shindo had said, but the latter could tell that he was pissed, and that was fun in its own right.

“Oh, Black, I’m afraid your break ends here. See, we did make special accommodations for you.”

The back of Shindo’s head tingled with alarm, but he tried to play it cool. “And what might those be?”

The only response he received was the toothbrushes – all four of them – leaving his armpits… and swarming the tent in his boxers.

“GAH!” he exclaimed, shocked by the toothbrushes’ audacity, as well as by the unbearable mixture of hilarity and urgent pleasure.

“You thought we didn’t know that not all of your body is immune to vibrations? We know what you use your Quirk for, you naughty boy.”

Gasping laughter threatened to break out of Shindo, originating from the very pit of his stomach. The damp fabric lessened the ticklish sensation a good amount, but the vibrations still had him eager, yearning. And he surprised himself trying to resist the feeling. No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who got teased. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who had to bite his lip.

The toothbrushes – six, six of them now! – were neither trying to really tickle him, nor to push him over the edge, he could tell, they were too unfocused. Their only purpose was to keep building his arousal. And so they did, without allowing him release, release which he himself opposed, until bundle 5 ended for all, silencing the toothbrushes.

But even then, Shindo was allowed little respite, because when bundle 6 started shortly after and the disembodied hands started kneading into his thighs, the proximity to his arousal kept teasing him, taunting him, mocking him.

Kirishima

When the toothbrushes made contact with his armpits, Kirishima almost opened his eyes; but no, he held on, making it that much worse for himself, as he didn’t know where the devices would strike next, if more of them would come. But the toothbrushes seemed pretty content roaming his hollows, sending ticklish vibrations through the terribly sensitive skin.

His nerves were on edge, all the more receptive to the toothbrush action as they begged him to look, to survey what was triggering them, but he couldn’t. It was already embarrassing enough that he was enjoying what was happening to him. But the tormented laughter, the straining and thrashing coming from right next to him, permeating the hall, was so much worse. If he also looked… no, he wouldn’t let himself enjoy what he saw. Even if they said it wasn’t real, it… it didn’t feel right.

So he didn’t see the second pair of toothbrushes coming, landing squarely in the center of his pits while the first set roamed their muscled edges. He let out a mirthful scream when it happened.

He’d innocently tickled his classmates on more than one occasion, and he’d been recognized as the resident tickle monster. This had resulted in multiple reprisals. And something Sero had once said had stuck with him: the more muscle he put on, the more ticklish he got. What was supposed to make him stronger, somehow made him… if not weaker, more tender. Like after his Quirk ran out of stamina.

Somehow, someway, he made it through the third wave of toothbrushes, only for Sero’s theory to gain more credence as he felt hands squeeze at his thighs, sending ticklish shockwaves coursing up his legs. And his laughter mingled with the others’.

He needed this to end. Because guilt was ruining a good thing.

With his eyes closed, he didn’t notice that the hands he still felt on his thighs were but phantom tickles. No, it was everyone else’s laughter subsiding that told him it was over. That it was safe to open his eyes.

“We’re almost done!” claimed Ojiro. “There’s only one bundle left.”

Kirishima blinked off the tears as his vision struggled to readjust to the stark illumination of the auction hall. Across from him, Midoriya didn’t look relieved. “Yes, but it’s probably…” He trailed off, shooting Bakugo a worried glance.

Kirishima saw the blond curl his toes.

#mha tickle #bnha tickle #spicy content #tickle content #tickle fic #tickletorture #ticklish!kaminari #ticklish!bakugo #ticklish!kirishima #ticklish!inasa #ticklish!bakugou #ticklish!midoriya #ticklish!todoroki #ticklish!shindou #ticklish!shindo #ticklish!ojirou #ticklish!ojiro

[mostremote]

reflecting on 2023, thoughts for 2024, long personal post

How would I sum up 2023? Well, it's certainly been productive. Securing a permanent position at a university I adore is unreal, and I still subconsciously assume there's been a mistake and they'll fire me any day now. After what was essentially 7 years of precarity, having professional stability is absolutely wild. I love my job, I love my students, I love my colleagues, and it's insane to me that I seem to have actually "made it" professionally.

My second book is coming out with a Big Publisher and that's very nice too. I don't have much emotional attachment to that project, but it took a lot of work and I'm satisfied that it is reaching its appropriate conclusion. I will make, I am sure, zero money out of it, but that's academic publishing for you lol

I gave my first keynote paper at a (cute, small) conference, so that was also a milestone. I also organised a very successful conference in which like 1/4 of the speakers cited my work, which was absolutely surreal and made me want to disappear into the ground.

I made a huge amount of progress on my novel, it's pretty much finished, and my one real resolution for 2024 is to make a proper effort to get it published. I'll wait until my academic book is out to start that process, but that's the one resolution I'm setting for myself. I don't know if I'll have any luck (it's not exactly a book with mass appeal) but I want to at least give it a shot.

Healthwise, well. It's been a ride. A good ride, but a ride nonetheless. I switched medications for my chronic illness, coming off a really major one and getting onto a much milder one, as I've been basically asymptomatic. This is good news all round: I've adapted well to the new meds, and I don't have to deal with all the nasty side effects of the old meds (they fuck you up long term). The main problem I have now is that I can't drink much alcohol, but that's a small price to pay for good health.

But one side effect of the medication was weight gain. I gained around a stone after I'd been on it for a year but I figured that was just "not being in your early 20s anymore" weight gain. Turns out nope! I haven't weighed myself lately but I have visibly lost a lot of weight and it's a little disconcerting to be suddenly, well, very skinny again. I look much younger and smaller. It's not bad, it's just a stark difference to adjust to and not something I was expecting to happen in my 30s.

I've also adjusted my hormone regimen. I don't have any long term plans (i never do lol) but I've been enjoying playing more with feminine presentations. I'm just, comfortable with my body and happy with who I am. How about that!

Mental healthwise, hoo boy. Let's address my being cursed by an ancient amulet and becoming crushingly obsessed with the fictional villain of The Hunger Games. I haven't spoken about this on here but The Shivering Season is significantly informed by my own experiences with different forms of abuse and mental health problems, and I have been processing a lot while writing it. Sometimes I've had anxiety attacks while writing, which never happens to me! There was a point before Christmas I was having anxiety attacks at random everyday, just hanging out watching TV, because it seems I was bringing so much stuff to the surface. And I seem to have worked through some things, because the intrusive sexual abuse thoughts/fantasies I have experienced compulsively for, idk, 15+ years have gone. Completely gone. Really, really weird! I need to go back to therapy about this but I just don't know how to explain "I became obsessed with The Hunger Games and now I have 70% less trauma" in a normal way.

And I have been extremely manic these past 2 months. That is probably obvious from how I've been posting, but jesus christ. I wake up at 5am, I fall asleep at 11pm (and as someone who historically needs 8-9 hours every night, this is significant). I write thousands of words almost every day. I am generally inclined to periods of mania, but this is extremely intense and it has lasted since the start of November. I'm scared of crashing, both because this hyperproductivity is giving me a lot of positive brain chemicals and because I don't know what kind of person I'll be if it goes. Will the intrusive thoughts come back? I don't want them to! I've been very happy without them!!

And that's the conclusion, really: I've had a very happy year. I'm mistrustful of happiness, but I am still happy. I don't know what to expect of 2024, but I am optimistic, and content, and marvelling at in what a good place I'm in now compared to how I was.

Happy new year!

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Tailspin | Chapter 12

Maverick x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell falls in love with his number one rival’s girlfriend.

CW: love triangle, angst, elements of infidelity, slow burn, you're going to feel so bad for Ice, I apologize in advance <3

Start from the beginning: Chapter 1

You scream as Maverick stumbles back, nearly tripping over the curb into the parking lot. Tom follows him down, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket to prop him up. His face is twisted in anger as he throws another punch.

Maverick isn't fighting back.

You run for the door to the bar and swing it open. "Goose!" you cry. "Slider!"

Goose and Ron don't wait for you to elaborate. They are up before you've finished calling their names. They know exactly what's going on.

Goose comes crashing through the door, with Ron directly behind him. Ron grabs Tom by the shoulders to pull him away while Goose puts his hands on Maverick's chest to push him back. Tom tries to fight Ron off while Goose holds his arms apart to separate them further.

"Let go!" Tom is yelling.

"Cool it, man," Ron says, struggling to keep Tom from attacking Maverick again.

There are a few bystanders in the lot who start to look like avid spectators as they gravitate toward the conflict. Goose is muttering something to Maverick, but the latter is just shaking his head without responding.

Tom lunges forward again and it takes both Ron and Goose to restrain him this time. Finally, Goose and Ron manage to pull them apart, but not before a jeering crowd starts to form with the five of you in the center.

You feel the heat of your tears as they stream down your face. You're watching Tom and Maverick stare one another down and, even though the fight is over, your whole body is still shaking uncontrollably. This is precisely the scenario you were aiming to avoid.

You wipe your eyes resolutely, angry at Maverick for getting under your skin again, furious at yourself for letting him, and outraged at Tom for resorting to physical violence. You shake your head and turn to leave.

You walk briskly, pushing through the growing crowd, out toward the street. The evening sun is bathing the stretch of road in a warm glow despite the cool air. It's golden hour and everything looks like it's on fire.

You walk defiantly, despite hearing Tom calling out your name. You don't even turn to look at him. He catches up with you quickly, pulling on your arm, which you promptly rip out of his grasp.

"Go to hell!" you shout at him.

"Where are you going? There's nothing here for miles around!" he yells back at you.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, shaking your head.

"What was I thinking?" he yells. "I wasn't thinking! I saw him standing there so close to you – I fucking lost it, Amelia!"

You stop walking and look at him. You understand where he's coming from. You sympathize, even. But you're not ready to forgive him. "You beat him up, Tom! Nothing even happened!"

"Nothing happened?" Tom laughs derisively. "Nothing happened? I'm not an idiot, Amelia!"

You stare at him. "We were just talking."

Tom watches you stonily. "About?" he asks quietly.

You lower your gaze and bite your lip.

"Yeah," he says. "That's what I thought." He brings his hand up to your chin, lifting your face with his index finger. "Is it just him?" he asks, his blue eyes swimming. "Tell me it's just him and you have no part in this. Tell me and I'll believe you."

You let out an uneven sigh, watching him miserably. "It's not," you whisper. "It's not just him."

He closes his eyes, dropping his hand.

"Tom," you say, picking his hand back up, but he pulls it away roughly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."

He nods, looking at the ground. He chuckles. "Not about Maverick," he says. "So, was it all bullshit, then?" He looks up at you contemptuously.

You watch him sadly. His words hurt even though you probably deserve them. In any case, you'd rather he take his anger out on you than on Maverick.

"Well," he says quietly, "I guess you were right. Something is missing between us. Or, rather, someone."

You shake your head. "Tom, I'm don't – I'm not going to go out with Maverick. I won't do that."

He shrugs. "Why not? You might as well. The whole of Miramar has seen the two of you together." He waves his arm back toward the bar.

You stare at him. "Hardly," you say flatly. "And this isn't about your ego, Tom. It's about the fact that you and Maverick still have to work together."

Tom shakes his head. "There's no way" –

"Tom," you say. "I'm leaving in a few days. Neither one of you is ever going to see me again. You and him have a long professional relationship ahead of you. Don't let something as trivial as this jeopardize your future."

Tom watches you wretchedly. "You were my future," he says, his voice breaking.

You meet his gaze and shake your head. "I don't think that was ever the case," you respond.

...

A few hours later, you're banging on Maverick's door, yelling for him to open it.

"What's going on?" Goose pokes his head out of the adjacent room.

"Where is he?" you ask threateningly.

"Maverick?" he asks.

"Either of them! Tom is still out and Ron has no idea where he is. I thought maybe Maverick would know, but he's also missing!"

Goose blinks at you apprehensively. "I don't think Ice is with Maverick."

"Where is he, Goose?" you ask urgently, not in the mood for his ambiguous responses.

"He's at the station," Goose says resignedly.

"What? Why? It's almost midnight!"

"My guess is he's at the gym decimating some poor, old punching bag," Goose says.

You stare at him. "Oh, dear god, Goose. What if Tom had the same idea?"

Goose sighs, reaching inside for his keys. "I'll drive," he says, closing the door behind himself and marching over to his car.

...

The moment Goose turns off his engine outside of the station, the two of you see Tom leaving the hangar and walking to his car.

Tom's Buick roars to life and he pulls out rapidly, taking off into the darkness. You stare after him worriedly.

"I'll follow him," Goose says. "Can you please make sure Mav's okay?"

You nod, pulling on the door handle to step out of the car. Goose drives off after Tom as you make your way toward the hangar, holding Goose's key in your hand.

You step inside the dimly lit space, looking around warily. You're half expecting to see Maverick lying somewhere against a wall in a pool of blood and you shudder at the thought.

"Maverick?" you say quietly, your voice echoing around you despite your low volume.

A moment later, Maverick steps out from behind one of the parked jets near the far wall. He looks surprised to see you.

You don't bother waiting for him to say anything. The anger that's been boiling inside of you finally senses an opportunity for release. You advance on him heatedly and, holding your arms out in front of you, you shove him with enough force that he has to take a couple steps back. He stares at you in shock; you've clearly caught him off-guard.

"I told you!" you yell. "I told you this would happen!"

Maverick holds his arm up reflexively when you try to push him again.

"Why would you do that?" you're shouting, your voice ricocheting off the concrete walls around you.

Maverick catches your wrists, stepping into the light. You can see that he's got a cut on his cheek and his eyebrow is bleeding. "Why are you here?" he asks abrasively.

"I was looking for Tom," you respond spitefully.

Maverick nods, looking past you coldly. "You just missed him," he says flatly.

"I know," you say, trying to fight his grip. But he doesn't let go of your arms until you've stopped struggling. You let out a resigned sigh and respond angrily, "I needed to make sure you were okay, obviously." You refuse to make eye contact with him.

"You have a funny way of showing concern," he says, still with a hint of malice in his voice. Although, you're not sure why he's angry with you. Probably because you blame him for all of it.

"I can be concerned and mad at the same time," you reply bitterly.

You hear him breathe out steadily and, even without looking at his face, you know he's watching you. You stand there in silence for a long time, neither of you willing to concede. Finally, he says, "You're a day late. But you made it."

You could tell that he's trying to rile you, but you won't let him. Not again. "You know that's not why I'm here," you respond coolly.

You're still stubbornly glaring at the ground while the two of you spend another few moments in silence. Then, he asks. "What happened with Ice?"

You glance up at him. "I could ask you the same question," you say.

Maverick watches you carefully, pursing his lips. "We had a talk," he says.

"A talk?" you ask, raising your eyebrows skeptically.

Maverick blinks up and over your shoulder, staring blankly at the empty hangar behind your back. "Of sorts," he replies.

You let out a derisive chuckle. "Right," you say. "And did his words split your lip?"

His gaze shifts back to focus on your face. "Something like that," he says with a small smirk.

Your eyes lock for a moment but it's enough to undermine your resolve. Once again, you feel yourself being pulled in his direction without any physical force. Once again, he's making you dizzy. You shake your head irritably. "None of this is funny," you say in response to his flippant grin.

"I'm sorry," he replies quietly. "I can't help but smile when I'm with you." He shrugs. "You make me happy. Even when you hate me."

Read Chapter 13

Tag List:

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@tomhiddlestonsleftkneecap

@glamorousangels

@capswife

@fresh-new-yoik-watah

@hariestyles1

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

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[eternalchiyo]

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 ~𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 04~

Summary: Chiyo snaps.

Word Count: 2360

She was floating in nothingness. Heavy fog surrounded her. There was no ground below her feet and yet she tried to take a step forward, what other option would she have anyway? Chiyo took a few steps, but it did not seem like she was moving forward at all.

What was this place?

The thick fog made it hard for her to see, but she felt as if she wasn’t alone. An unsettling feeling creeped over her, but her feet dragged her into a certain direction. It was as if something called for her.

“You finally came,” a feminine voice said.

“Who’s there?!” Chiyo tried to cry out, but the sound of her voice came out muffled.

Suddenly she saw a faint silhouette of what she assumed was the woman that called out to her before.

“You’ve finally come,” the woman’s arms reached forward and her hands cupped Chiyo’s face, “my Lilith.” The touch felt so familiar for some reason.

“Lilith…” the woman said, “why did you leave Adam?”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. There was no way, could it really be? She wanted to say something, call out to the woman in front of her, but there was no voice coming out.

Soon enough, she was alone in the foggy darkness again.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth. Like a baby in a cradle.

It had been a while since Chiyo felt so warm. She wanted to stay there forever, wherever this place was. But where was she? And what was this familiar scent?

Lavender and honey.

Shuu.

Chiyo moved her head slowly, the terrible headache starting to become more prominent. It must have been from before when she hit her head. She opened her eyes and saw his broad shoulders in front of her.

Was he carrying her?

Groaning softly, she rested her chin on his shoulder, messy blond locks tickled her cheek. He didn’t react.

“What happened?” she asked.

Her voice was groggy, and her head increasingly felt like someone has been pounding at it with a massive hammer for hours on end. She could see some of the other’s walking along the forest path in front of them.

“The limousine crashed,” Shuu said.

So, they were walking home? Chiyo leaned more into Shuu and closed her eyes again. She needed a little bit more rest and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she still couldn’t help but enjoy being this close to him. Just for a little while longer, she thought. Just for a little while she wanted to pretend that nothing bad ever happened between them; that everything was fine.

She couldn’t help but destroy the illusion.

“Why did you kiss her?”

Shuu stopped abruptly in his tracks.

“Get off.”

“What– “

“I said get off, are you deaf?”

Reluctantly, she complied.

Her legs felt wobbly against the ground, but Shuu did not seem to care and continued to walk ahead of her.

“Wait,” Chiyo said.

Shuu turned around. He was annoyed, she could clearly see it on his face. The way he looked at her practically screamed to carry on speaking already.

“Don’t you think it’s enough already?”

Her voice strained, trying to keep herself composed. She really did not want to cry in front of him and she clung onto that resolution desperately. How long did he intend to keep on going like this? Clearly neither of them was happy.

“Don’t you think you have proven your point enough?” she said, “I understand, you hate me, so stop it already.”

“Prove a point?” he huffed, “There is no point to prove. I could not care less about you.”

Lies.

Chiyo took in a deep breath. This was all too much for her to handle.

“Then why? Why do you keep on hurting me on purpose?!”

It was horrible having to admit that what he did actually hurt her. But how was she supposed to go on? There was no way she could go on living with him when he kept doing this to her. The whole thing seemed like a sick and twisted joke.

Her voice came out louder than she intended and made the others, who were already further ahead of them, turn around to see what was going on.

Shuu was taken aback but the girl did not leave him any time to react.

“Why did you show up to save me when I was being attacked, only to push me away moments after?! Why do you kiss others in front of my eyes?! Why do you do with my body as you please and then pretend nothing ever happened?! Yes, you’re so indifferent, aren’t you?!”

There was exactly one thing Chiyo hated about Shuu, and it was how he always pretended he didn’t care about anything. Her face felt hot, angry tears streaming down her cheeks, her resolution not to cry in front of him long forgotten. Out of breath from yelling all the things she kept inside her for so long, she looked up at him. Seemingly unfazed, he stood in front of her.

“Get off your high horse already. I don’t care about you in the least anymore,” he said. His voice seemed calm. Forcibly disinterested; she did not buy it.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Chiyo said in disbelief, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you say that.”

“Do you think I owe you anything?” he made a step forward, glaring at her. “You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.”

Chiyo was speechless. Shuu rarely got angry in a way that he raised his voice like that. It scared her. Would he be able to do harm to her if she kept on pushing? Probably.

“Cut it out immediately, both of you!” Chiyo saw Reiji come closer out of the corner of her eye but kept on glaring at Shuu. His voice sounded distant to her.

“We have other, more pressing issues to take care of and all you can think about is starting this pathetic fight in front of everyone and put your pitiful failed relationship on display? You truly are good for nothing.”

They both turned to glare at Reiji. At least one thing they could agree on.

“Hurry up already,” he said, “Chiyo, I need you to fill me in on every detail about your encounter with Mukami Ruki, make yourself useful in some way at least.”

He turned to Shuu: “And you, frankly I do not care about what you do, as long as you keep out of the way.” Chiyo felt as if she saw Shuu roll his eyes at his younger brother before he put his earbuds back in and took off, leaving her behind with Reiji. She couldn’t help but actually feel embarrassed, it wasn’t really comforting to know that the whole family now was witness to how broken her relationship with Shuu really was.

She wanted to die.

Reiji was serious when he said he wanted to hear every little detail about her encounter with Ruki. She even had to explain her weird Mocha incident, which was the reason she ended up in the alleyway in the first place. There was not really much to deduct from this though, as she could be replaced with any other girl. Vampires did hunt for humans occasionally after all. On further thought, their meeting was hardly a coincidence.

When they arrived at home Yui told everybody about the weird dream she had while they were knocked out. A mysterious person had called her Eve and told her that she needed to find her Adam. Chiyo was not an expert on Bible studies, obviously, but it did not elude her that both their dreams mentioned Adam. She decided to keep the information about her own dream to herself though. Something told her it was not the right time to bring it up.

“Why did you leave Adam?”

That was what the mysterious woman in her dream had asked, but who was she? Chiyo had her suspicions, but could it really be? The touch she had felt had been so warm and loving. Almost like the one of a… Mother…?

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? She never met her own mother, that woman died during childbirth, and she was sure she would have never been this gentle towards her if she were alive. And why did she call her Lilith?

“Do you think those Mukami bastards might be behind the crash?” Subaru asked.

“Yes, it all is a little bit too convenient don’t you think?” Laito said.

Well, all those things happening at the same time did seem a little suspicious, Chiyo agreed with that.

“Indeed, it would be best to proceed with caution,” Reiji said, “we should keep an eye on Yui as well.”

Chiyo rolled her eyes. Yes, of course, let’s protect the human girl, while Chiyo was the one who almost got sucked dry. Obviously, that didn’t seem to be their priority right now.

Well, she also did not tell anybody about that before so maybe the fault was hers.

Moving on, everybody agreed it would be easier if Yui chose one of them to keep an eye on her. Ayato was the obvious choice; he was always swarming her like a mosquito anyway.

Chiyo kept on brooding over her own strange dream. She needed to find out who or what Lilith was first. If it was in any way connected it must have been something biblical. She doubted there was enough source material in the Sakamaki family library though; Vampires and the Bible did not seem like that good of a match. Although Yui’s sole presence in this house would have you believe otherwise. She did manage to find a copy of the bible, though Chiyo really did not feel like scanning the whole book for any mentions of that name.

There was the option to scout the school library for more source material, but she could also ask Yui for help. The idea of being dependent on a human displeased her.

She decided to keep that option in the back of her head, hopefully she would never need it.

The next day Chiyo made a beeline to the library, not even thinking about joining classes that night. The thought of accidentally meeting Shuu there made shivers run down her spine. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand but nevertheless it kept on wandering back to the fight from the other night.

You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.

There had to be some deeper meaning to his words. There always was with Shuu.

Well, he wasn’t wrong probably. Since the order came from King Karlheinz there had to be some reason. Some reason related to the dream perhaps. Which in turn meant she had to get to the bottom of this first if she wanted to make some sort of progress! It wasn’t like she could just ask for an audience and ask the King what exactly he tried to do. She’d lose her head in the process most likely.

Suddenly, she felt strangely cold. She looked around; was someone stalking her? Her heart nearly stopped when she saw a pair of steel-grey eyes stare at her. Luckily, she had her emotions in check and suppressed the need to scream her soul out.

Him again!

“My, you look like a deer in headlights. I can’t say I dislike that frightened look in your eyes,” Ruki said.

Chiyo frowned at him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t look like that, if you didn’t sneak up on me like a creep,” she said.

Ruki, who had been sitting at one of the desks, looked like he was lost in thoughts for a second, before he stood up and leisurely walked over to where Chiyo was standing. She was now trapped between him and the corner shelf.

“I’ve been here for quite a while now. Maybe little girls like yourself should exercise more caution while being in a school full of monsters?”

Chiyo looked up at him, still frowning. Life was hard when all of your opponents were taller than you. She didn’t feel comfortable in Ruki’s presence at all, his aura had something she couldn’t quite place. Still, she forced herself to stand her ground. She was not gonna give away that she was actually a little bit scared of him.

Ruki looked her up and down and it made her skin crawl.

“I like the bratty look on your face,” he said, “or rather, I want to know which punishment would turn it into one of complete obedience.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened in shock and her face suddenly felt way too hot. She took a step back and bumped against the shelf.

Ruki let out a soft laugh.

“Did that excite you?”

Chiyo tried to regain some of her composure and forced her face back into the frown she was giving him before.

“Obviously not,” she said.

However, she wasn’t so sure herself. She just hoped it was convincing enough for Ruki to finally leave.

The bell rang, indicating the end of the first period and Chiyo could feel the relief. Soon the hallways would be filled with students, which would hopefully put Ruki off from pestering her further.

“That’s too bad,” he said and made his way back to the desk he had previously been sitting at. He collected the book that was still laying there before turning back to Chiyo again.

“You know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

Chiyo watched him walk out of the library as she tried to calm her nerves again. Her hands were trembling, and her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest. What was this feeling? Disgust hopefully?

Something about Ruki made her unable to keep her emotions in check properly. Usually, she had minimal issue with staying stoic or composed enough, it gave her the creeps how it didn’t work with that person. She hoped that her book hunt would put her mind at ease at least.

#(( author making chiyo suffer for 30 minutes straight )) #((I still feel like I suck at writing ruki properly )) #everlasting spark #admin writes #dark 04 #fanfiction #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers

[ereborne]

1, 2, 4, 8, 12, 15, 17, 20, 26, 32, 44, 46 (weird or genre-defying books), 47, 50

Thank you for so many prompts!! This was so fun to do and now it is so long. I hope it's as good to read as it was to write out!

1) Name the best book you've read so far this year: I answered Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuire to digs just a moment ago, but I'm glad you asked too, because honorable mention goes to Inheritance by Nora Roberts. It came out in November, not technically 2024, but time is fake and 2024 is just beginning anyway, so I'm counting it. Inheritance starts pretty slow and for a bit I was wondering how it was going to manage a satisfying resolution, and then I realized she was doing something new! (unfair. she's been building to this since 2015, it's just that now is when it's starting to really click with me) Instead of a trilogy with three couples whose romance arcs each get centered in their own book, this is going to be a trilogy focusing on unraveling the family curse/haunting, with the four main characters growing tighter as a unit (and forming their two romantic pairs, of course) throughout. I really like the characters and I am delighted by the curse/haunt storytelling. Cannot wait to see more.

2) Favorite fantasy book(s): this is so hard. okay, okay, brief rundown. brief. I can do this. bookshelf by bookshelf, I think. we'll take as granted everything by Seanan McGuire, sure. Bayou Moon and Magic Strikes by Ilona Andrews. By the Sword and From a High Tower by Mercedes Lackey. Bryony and Roses and Summer in Orcus by T Kingfisher. The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane. The Long Patrol-Marlfox-Taggerung by Brian Jacques, which I always read in a shot as if they were one book. Similarly, the Protector of the Small and Magic Circle quartets by Tamora Pierce, and the Icewind Dale trilogy by RA Salvatore. Tangled Webs by Elaine Cunningham. The Return of the King by JRR Tolkien (really all the LotR trilogy, but even I cannot say I sit and read them all three straight through as if they were one). The Wee Free Men and Thud! by Terry Pratchett.

4) Favorite science fiction book(s): The Ship Who Sang and Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey. Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie. Exit Strategy and Network Effect by Martha Wells. The Galaxy and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers. Rescues and the Rhyssa by TS Porter (also a favored queer fiction book, but I love the alien worldbuilding so much it has to be here)

8) Favorite queer fiction book(s): Humanity for Beginners by Faith Mudge. Nightvine by Felicia Davin. the Harwood Spellbook series by Stephanie Burgis (also a down-in-one-shot series). Holly and Oak by R Cooper.

12) Favorite horror book(s): I haven't read too many horror books, so my pool is limited here, but The Twisted Ones and The Hollow Places by T Kingfisher both gave me the shudders so bad.

15) Which genre(s) are your favorite? Fantasy! I love all the fantasy subgenres, and especially the magical realism overlaps.

17) Favorite finished book series: How finished is finished? A lot of my serieses are made up of several trilogy/quartet subsets together in a world. hmmmm. The Protector of the Small quartet again by Tamora Pierce, I think.

20) Where and how do you find new books to read? I mentioned in my reply to digs that I'm subscribed to a ton of newsletters, but I feel like I undersold their effect on me. I don't know how many I'm subscribed to--just sat here and off the top of my head counted to eighteen that post at least weekly and I'm so sure I'm missing some--and I love having that regular infusion of book progress and reviews and writing thoughts and commentary. I really do recommend that folks subscribe to their favorite authors.

26) Favorite novella(s): Silver Shark by Ilona Andrews. The Seven Brides-to-Be of Generalissimo Vlad by Victoria Goddard. Jackalope Wives by T Kingfisher.

32) Name your favorite author(s): massive overlap with everybody else I've listed here. who haven't I mentioned? Jennie Crusie, Jayne Ann Krentz, JD Robb (which is a Nora Roberts penname but they've got distinct enough works I want to list them out separate). Patricia Briggs, Patricia C Wrede, Max Gladstone, Gail Carriger, Nalini Singh. And Ed Greenwood, about half the time.

44) The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup: The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien. Watership Down by Richard Adams. Agnes and the Hitman by Jennifer Crusie. Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs. The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. Phoenix & Ashes by Mercedes Lackey. The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard.

46) I like (weird or genre-defying books), recommend me a book to read, please: First thought was the Humans Are Weird series by Betty Adams, though that might not be what you mean. They're intensely fun collections of 'humans are space-orcs' style vignettes. Maybe more directly books that are weird would be the Craft Sequence series by Max Gladstone and Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw. Very toothy complicated magical realism. And my favorite genre-blending books are always the Elemental Masters books by Mercedes Lackey. A Study in Sable for instance is equal parts a Sherlock Holmes story and a retelling of The Twa Sisters fairytale, and also a coherent installment in an ongoing historical fantasy series about elemental mages in early 1900s England.

47) What are the last three books you read? Indexing by Seanan McGuire, Die in Plain Sight by Elizabeth Lowell, Pirate's Honor by Chris A Jackson

50) What kind of book have you never read but always hope to find at some point in the future? This is such a fascinating question. I don't know that there's anything in particular that I've always wanted and never found, but there are things I'm always looking for more and better examples of. I'm extremely picky about soulmate AUs, so a good one especially captivates me. Oh, or a really well-handled impromptu adoption! Child characters and bureaucracy are both tricky to write and things I know a lot about, and when they're done well they hook me so hard.

#asks #carrionfourth #I have been working on these answers for hours. it's so hard to choose favorites!! #very fun though and very interesting to think some of this through #my bookshelves are grouped a lot more by how they make me feel than by genre so mentally categorizing them was a neat process #I hope you were ready for the enormous wall of text you've inspired! #I feel like it's also a big list of proper nouns with little elaboration but there's no sane way to elaborate on them all #so if anybody would like me to talk more about a given book or author hit me up. I can and will talk about books forever

[val-victory]

Bitleaks File 01

[The only thing in this Post is a Video File]

[The Video starts with a Splash Screen as depicted below]

[The Resolution changes to a 2:3 Aspect Ratio with 128x192 Pixels (standard Resolution for Xtransceiver and related Gadgets)]

[It appears to be a Headcam Video of somebody(Person A) walking through an abandoned Industrial Park]

[The Clouds are dark, Thunder can be heard, but no Rain is visible or audible on the Video]

[The Buildings are in a State of Disrepair and Pokémon like Grimer and Trubbish have found a new Home between the Trash and Industrial Waste.]

[Person A can be heard breathing through a Gas Mask. Their Breath: unsteady]

[Additionally 3 Pokémon are accompanying Person A

Scizor, right Pincer injured, keeping Pace with Person A but at a Distance of 6 Feet.

Mawile, Situated in a Baby Carrier worn by Person A, Mouth is covered by a small Gas Mask, Maw is not covered.

Vikavolt, flying around in erratic Patterns, it keeps alternating between hovering in Place and quickly Flying to a new Hover Place, the Low Bass of it's wings is heard throughout the Video]

[Person A begins talking:"Where the fuck is Bit?"]

[they frantically look around, bright blue Hair can bee seen at the Edges of the Cameras vision.]

["Bit did you digitize yourself again? are you for real? i thought you wanted to go here?"]

[A small Sprite of a Porygon2 appears on the Video, it is superimposed on top of it. at first it does what can best be described as a Laugh, and then a little Dance.]

[Person A: "You are the worst. A+ Coward Behaviour. Shitass."]

[The Porygon seems to take delight in being verbally abused and continues the Dance]

[The Group reaches an abandoned Power Plan]

[upon realizing that Person A lacks the Strength to open the Door, they order the Scizor to Bullet Punch the Door open.]

[The Inside of the Entrance Hall is filled with a group of sleeping Grimer, with a few Gestures Person A commands their Pokémon to stay silent and stealthy, Vikavolt stops flying and starts crawling on the Floor.]

[Person A purposefully and stealthily approaches an Industrial Size Door in the Back. the Electricity is still on. Person A presses a Button. it opens the Path into a large Cooling Tower, about 150 Feet in Diameter.]

[Person A looks behind them to make sure that the Grimer are still asleep.]

[There is a Spiral Staircase constructed at the inner Diameter of the Tower, Person A and their Group start descending]

[Through the Bad Quality of the Video it is quite unclear what lies at the Bottom, it Flashes both orange and green, and is illuminating something large and yellow.]

[Person A: "no way, why is that there? i thought this was gonna be easy. Fuck fuck fuck. Schkrinkel i probably need you for this."]

[Mawile is removed from the Baby Carrier]

[Person A: "make sure to bite as hard as you can. Go for the Head. i don't want this to turn into a Battle.]

[Person A points towards the Large Yellow Thing, at this point it is clear that it is a Pokémon, and it is sleeping in Front of a Machine made of Glass, something in there is Blinking in orange and green.]

[The Mawile slowly approaches the large Yellow Pokémon, and prepares to bite with it's Maw. It Bites down hard, the Effort is visible in its Body Tension.]

[A loud Cry is Heard, and the Pokémon Raises it's Head, It's Zapdos. The Mawile only injured it's right Wing.]

[Person A: "I told you to go for it's head, you Fuck!"]

[The Zapdos is fully awake now and starts attacking Mawile, at first it tries to Peck at it, the tiny Mawile is not prepared for this but manages to block a few hits with it's Maw.]

[Person A: "Sense, go defend your friend. kill that fucking Thing."]

[Scizor attacks the Zapdos with a Bullet Punch to the Back]

[Zapdos realizes it won't win on the Ground and tries to Fly, but it's injured Wing prevents it from starting a proper Flight, instead it clings it's Talons into the inner Wall of the Tower and half-flies half-climbs.]

[The Intensity of the Battle has awoken the Grimer from the Hall above and they start pouring into the Cooling Tower.]

[Person A: " Okay, change of Plan, Schkrinkle you go after the Grimer, cover for Sense. Sense you need to use your Flash cannon to get that Bird down. (tone goes sarcastic) and if only i had a pokémon who knew Ice Beam, that would be helpful wouldn't it? BIT?" (Bit is sleeping on the Screen)]

[The Pokémon comply, the Mawile Iron Heads the Grimer away, while Scizor starts shooting it's Flash Cannon. Scizor doesn't even Aim, it looks to the Ground and raises it's left Pincer, Flash after Flash is released from it.]

[Person A takes cover behind Rubble.]

[Zapdos is currently locked in half-Flight Battle with Vikavolt. They are exchanging Zap Cannons, none of them take a lot of Damage and they keep charging the other one up.]

[Zapdos is eventually hit by the Flash Cannon of Scizor, and crashes into the Machine in the Middle of the Tower, a loud Crash and an Explosion is heard.]

[After a few Seconds Person A emerges from their Cover behind the Rubble. They begin searching for their Pokémon. Glass shards are everywhere.]

[The Grimer have been badly affected by the Explosion, many are only moments away from Fainting. Most have Glass Shards sticking out of them.]

[The First Pokémon they find is Vikavolt who descends from the Top of the Tower, it seems proud of what it did.]

[Scizor was blasted to the Wall by the Explosion, however it quickly stands up and acts like nothing has happened.]

[Together they start searching for Mawile, and it seems that it has disappeared.]

[Person A: "Be quiet! I'm hearing something." they give a hand sign to be quiet.]

[a loud slimy chewing Sound can be heard.]

[Person A approaches a large Pile of Rubble and finds Mawile behind there, no longer wearing it's Gas Mask. It has an Expression of pure hate. It is chewing on the Glass Shard covered Corpse of a Grimer]

[Person A: "Stop, what are you doing!? Stop! Bad Schkrinkel! You are disgusting!"]

[They run over trying to pry the Maw open, but it seems too late, it has already swallowed.]

[Mawiles face is full of Satisfaction, it is glad that it did this.]

[Person A: "i hate to do this, get back in the Ball, why did you eat that? you don't like center Visits do you?"]

[Mawile returns to the Ball with a pouty Mouth]

[Person A now looks over to the Machine, and the passed out Zapdos lying on top of it.]

[Person A: "Can you imagine... if i caught it. if i threw a Ball at it. I would own a Zapdos." *they retrieved a Ball from their Bag and are contemplating throwing it.* " Me the owner of a Legendary Bird... Laughable." *the ball is placed back into the Bag*]

[Person A approaches the Machine, they reach their gloved Hands inside to retrieve a small Part, it was the Source of the orange and green Blinking.]

[Person A(gleeful): "only two more... Bit can you believe it? We already have three."]

[The Feed Cuts on a closeup of the Machine Part]

#rotomblr #rotumblr #pokemon irl #cw pokemon death #cw: gore #lore #THIS IS A BITLEAK; VAL DOESN'T KNOW THAT THESE ARE HAPPENING. AND CAN'T SEE THEM.

[themarginalthinker]

Conflict Resolution

It started with Marko mumbling to himself.

At first, Michael couldn't catch it, and his attention was more or less focused on the game of poker David and Dwayne were trying to teach him.

"You know, this would be easier to learn if your version didn't involve cheating as a literal rule of the game," Michael says, to which David only smiles sharply, and Dwayne snorts.

"That's what actually makes it fun. Now are you gonna play, or are you gonna keep fingering your hand?" David says.

"Don't fucking say that," Michael winces, and yes, keeps looking over his spread. He's got what he thinks is a decent hand, but David keeps distracting him, Dwayne's got a poker face that the phenomena was named after, and with his weekly allowance in the pot ('motivation', as David had called it) Michael isn't sure he wants to risk playing it.

Marko and Paul are hanging around in the rafters, in spots tucked away where humans would have trouble getting to even with a ladder. Paul is plucking out some tune or another on a bass guitar, playing with the sound like idle hands toy with a pencil when bored. Marko is...well. He's not sure.

For the most of the night since he got there to hang out, the youngest in the pack hadn't seemed to be able to sit very still. No one else had wanted to brave the rain and wind currently assaulting the outside, and David had made it pretty clear that going out alone was asking for one of the few types of trouble the pack wasn't interested in. So even the most fidgety was grounded. Marko had bounced from annoying his pidgins, to organizing boxes of seemingly random items, to smoking, to annoying Dwayne, to coaxing Paul into a bout of wrestling, but when everyone else had drifted to their own activities, he'd just started pacing, mumbling to himself.

And now, about an hour into that activity, he was getting louder, and beginning to focus his attention on Paul again. Scooting closer, getting into his space, only jumping back when Paul would growl and shove him off. It had been in good fun before, but now, as Michael begins to formulate a plan to get himself a technically-legal flush, Marko gets into Paul's space, and the older vampire actually hisses.

Just a flash of teeth, a flick of glowing eyes, an actually upset expression on his face.

David looks up, and Dwayne glances at him for a moment. Just enough that Michael can slip out the card in his sleeve, just like they taught him.

"Stop quoting that movie," Paul grumbles, hands tense on the bass.

Marko smiles, but it's a little wide. A little too many teeth. "It's funny."

"Not in my fuckin' ear, dude. I'm tryin' to work on shit."

Marko backs off with a smirk, and then keeps up his, apparent, quoting of the entirety of whatever movie was on his mind. Paul takes a second, and then returns to his plucking.

David goes back to the game, but Dwayne's eyes linger on the two for a bit longer. Probably for the best, Michael had only just managed to slip his play past David, there was no getting past tall, dark, and knows-you-before-you-do.

"Not bad," David says, looking over Michael's cards. "I won't be taking your lunch money tonight. Dwayne?"

Dwayne merely blinks, and then puts down "Inverse flush."

He sets down the hand, showing off the Ace of spades, One of Diamonds, Two of Clubs, and Three of Hearts.

Michael gapes. "That's not a real thing-"

"House hand," David and Dwayne say together.

"I'm starting to think chalking up winning hands to that is also cheating," Michael hums, watching his week's pocket money disappear into Dwayne's.

David just smiles again, and is about to say something, when all hell breaks loose above their heads.

In the time it had taken Michael to make his play, and Dwayne his, Marko had crept close to Paul again. And this time, it didn't look like he was going to take any warnings for an answer.

Whatever whispered, irritating movie line had sparked it, Paul exploded with a snarl that echoed off the walls of the cave like a lightning crack. He launched himself at the younger vampire, bass tosses aside and down to the floor of the cavern, where he and Marko soon followed, knocked off their perch. They were a blur of claws and teeth, tearing fabric and flesh alike. Marko was holding his own, until Paul managed a lucky strike, and the smaller vampire shrieked, suddenly pulling to get out from under Paul.

Dwayne shot forward the instant they were at ground level, a dark streak against the red stone and orange flames around them. David following a close second, jovial face from seconds before all hard lines, fangs also out.

Michael for his part had jumped when the screaming started, away from the table, and backed up as much as he could. He knew...he knew that this wouldn't be a danger to him, not as long as he kept himself out of the way of a stray claw or wild lash, and they'd feel pretty bad about hurting him inadvertently, but as it was happening, in the blood and heat and rage of the moment, instinct didn't care what collateral happened. Just the damage.

Dwayne went for Paul, and David for Marko. A large, strong hand slipped under Paul's throat, and squeezed. Fingertips finding the hinges of the jaw, prying loose what was locked in place. Dwayne's own face had gone beastial, a growl so low in his chest that Michael could feel it from across the room. Slowly, Paul's teeth came loose, and the moment they did, Marko was yanked out from under him by David.

Granted, that didn't actually stop the fight. Marko writhed in David's grip, eyes aflame and mouth still open, whether to keep screaming, or find his own mouthful of skin to sink teeth into, it wasn't clear. David's hand was gripping Marko's air with a fist that Michael was sure would have torn a normal human's scalp off.

"ENOUGH!"

Dwayne's voice booms through the room like thunder. It stops Paul and Marko. Michael feels deafened.

In the sudden, fragile silence in the moments following, Dwayne hauls Paul back, turning his face to glare with dark hellfire into his eyes.

"Go cool off."

He bodily tosses him, towards an offshoot of the cave to the left. Paul catches himself before he hits the ground, and with a hand holding his jaw, shoots off without and backwards glance.

David keeps his grip on Marko, who is suddenly looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, while still smug. Only he could manage, Michael guesses.

"If D takes you out, are you gonna find Paul again when you get back?" David asks against Marko's throat. Threat of what he will do if Marko does gleaming sharp, white, and prominent over his bottom lip.

Marko takes a moment. His eyes flick to the tunnel Paul had disappeared down. At that, Dwayne looms over him, blocking his vision and any attempt Marko might have made.

Marko eventually shakes his head.

"Good," David says, sounding so much lighter than the situation really seemed to allow. "Get lost, then."

He drops Marko, who wastes no time making for the entrance of the cave. Dwayne hot at his heels.

It's a long minute, following that, where David just watches them leave, and then keeps watching, likely to make sure Marko didn't decide he wanted another dose. Eventually though, when Michael moves to shift his weight from one foot to another, David sighs, letting his shoulders drop.

"It's always the rainy nights in," he says. He looks around, starting to kick the loose, sandy earth over the splatters of blood on the floor, already absorbing it.

"Are they," Michael starts, feeling incredibly off-footed, "you know...gonna be okay?"

David raises an eyebrow. "Who, Paul and Marko? Of course."

"This is an 'of course' situation?" Michael asks.

"Hey, in a group like ours, this is what specialists would refer to as 'conflict resolution'. " He laughs. "There was conflict, and it's been resolved."

Michael blinks. "But, they were tearing into each other-"

David just cuts him off again, smile faded somewhat. More serious.

"Michael. I mean it when I say it's done. Them getting their teeth in each other is all they wanted. And when they're apart, it's over. I'd know. It happens between all of us, at some point. It's...what comes of living as we do. We're all we've got, for everything."

Michael's eyes track over the bloody droplets, the bass lying with a broken neck in a pile of miscellaneous junk in a corner, and then the card table.

He supposes that's really all there is to it, then. No use arguing. He starts to collect the cards, and David joins him again.

"...The Inverse Flush is not a thing," he says.

David smiles, all teeth. "What are you gonna do if it's not? Fight me?"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #drabble #writing #fanfic