#couldn't draw other eye without looking weird

[tale-of-two-queens]

Hug in the garden

Another cute sketch of @reverseenchancia lovely oc requested by @queenkiarathebright (with Viviane's permission of course)

Sorry for the big delay and inactivity, depressive episodes and stress suck. However, the drawing turn out cute and i hope you two like it

[l1tw1ck]

Denial

Omega!Bottom!FTM Kenma x Alpha!Top!Male Reader

Kenma couldn't force himself to think about any hot girls whenever the two of you would get off using each other's bodies. Not even that hot domme he saw on twitter could beat you.

🏐 Word Count: 2,021 🏐

AFAB Language Used | (had this in my drafts since DEC.. i forgor)

CW: Mild Dub-Con, Thigh Fucking, Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Virginity Loss, Fingering, Creampie

“This is just what best friends do, Kenma.” You reassure him as you rub your cock in between his thighs.

“You're such a great friend.” You groan. Kenma silently stares in between his legs, extremely turned on and intimidated by your size.

You convinced him that doing this is perfectly normal between friends and that you’d be helping each other from getting blue balls.

“So you're into that kind of thing, huh?” You ask, looking at Kenma’s phone. He jumps and drops his phone in his lap. “Hey, don't be embarrassed. Nothing wrong with being into pegging. If it makes you feel better I’ll share my kinks too.”

Then one thing led to another and here you are.

It's risky for an alpha and an omega to do this kind of thing since it can escalate pretty quickly but you're both taking suppressants and you're virgins with absolutely no suitors, which helped get Kenma to agree.

“You just gotta imagine I’m a hot girl, like the one in that drawing.”

“Okay-” Kenma shuts his eyes and tries to visualize the hot fictional woman in the drawing he saw online. He tries his best to focus but the only thing he can think about is you. And how fucking hot you sound. The sound of your labored breaths and restricted moans is more than enough to make him come. Is it strange to get off on a guy’s moans? He slightly opens one eye, just enough so that he can see without you realizing, and shuts it right back when he sees you staring straight at him. Did you open your eyes first? Did you realize he opened his?

You bite down on your lip. “Shit— I’m close–” You warn him.

He opens his eyes. “‘s okay..” He mumbles. “You…you can.”

“Yeah? God, you're the best.” You groan. Kenma shudders and orgasms, his pussy longing for you to be inside it. He watches as spurts of cum splatter on his stomach and on the band of his sports bra. He wants to taste it. He wants it inside him. “Did you come?” You ask, wiping him off with a tissue.

“yeah-” Kenma says shakily, leaning back. “We…we should do it again..another time..”

“Agreed. This is so much better than getting rejected all the time.” You grin.

Kenma hugs your pillow as your cock slides back and forth in between in his ass. He’s once again only in his underwear. He has a vibrator, one part stuffed up his cunt and the other pressed against his t-dick. Kenma knows deep down he doesn't need the vibrator and that he could go multiple rounds just with your cock sliding against him but he doesn't want to admit that or worse, admit it to you.

You're under the impression that Kenma’s watching porn with noise cancelling headphones but in reality, the audio is muted and the noise cancelling feature is turned off. It's not gay to like the sound of a guy pleasing himself…it's basically the equivalent to watching porn with a guy who isn't afraid to moan.

“That's it– just lay there while I use you…like a good boy..” You resist the urge to slap his ass.

Kenma bites down on his lip. He’s glad you can't see his face or else you’d realize he doesn't give a shit about the random porno he has playing on his phone.

“So good for me…so fucking good..”

He whimpers quietly, his cheeks red. It’s hard to justify the arousal he’s feeling. He can't even convince himself that he's imagining some random girl saying that to him. He's getting turned on by you, your voice, your hands, your cock, your scent. He really wishes it was him you were thinking about. Then he wouldn't feel so weird.

Kenma’s toes curl when he hears your about-to-come voice. The slight change in pitch and your breathlessness is just what he needed to hear to push him over the edge.

“So good for daddy..” You groan. Nevermind, that is what he needed. Kenma squirts, shaking heavily. You come just seconds later.

You slowly breathe in and out, staring at the cum splatter on his back. There aren't many things more erotic than this. Your eyes trail down to his clothed pudgy cunt, a patch of his gray underwear darker than the rest, making you realize he squirted. God, you wish you could just stuff your face in that.

Kenma turns around and takes off his headphones. “I’ll shower first.”

You lean back into Kenma’s couch and look at him as he's avenging your character's death in the game you're playing. You wonder what he really thinks about all this. “Hey…I’m curious..”

“Hm?” Kenma hums.

“Can I touch you? Like…more than usual?”

He keeps playing the game despite his surprise. “If you want to.” His cheeks are red. “I don't mind doing whatever…cause we’re best friends, like you said.”

“Really? So I could like…finger you and that’d be okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a bit. “You could go all the way..if that's what you want..”

“Wow…okay.” You gulp, slowly inching towards Kenma. You hesitantly place your hand on his thigh before sliding it inside his shorts. He does his best to keep fighting the boss while your fingers explore the space between his legs. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm-” He nods, losing focus as you reach his dick. He lands the final hit on the boss and pauses the game. He can feel your heavy breaths.

“You're so wet— sorry.”

“‘s fine. You can…you can talk.”

You feel more confident now. “I just started and you're already this worked up..” You murmur, sliding a finger inside him. “See how easy that was..” You slowly add a second one. Kenma leans back. His heart is beating so loudly. He sets his controller next to him, then roughly grips the arm of the couch. Your fingering skills need work but Kenma definitely can't tell.

“Uh~ Daddy~” Kenma moans, a bead of sweat drips down his forehead. The noise you made in response makes him shudder.

“Say it again.” You breathe out, somehow finding his g spot.

“Daddy!” He cries out, his cunt aggressively squeezing around your fingers.

“Good boy.” You take your hand out of his pants. The two of you look at each other for a few seconds before turning away. You’ve both decided to ignore the elephant in the room.

“I- I’m gonna…. clean up..” He says, standing up abruptly.

Kenma figures that since you’ve basically given up on getting a girlfriend, he no longer has to feel bad about his arousal towards you. He can just give you everything a romantic partner provides without even having to tell you about his feelings. It's perfect.

“You did really well today.” Kenma holds your hand, pulling you inside your hotel room. “We're going to the quarterfinals ‘cause of you.” He pushes you against the door. He pulls your shorts down while getting onto his knees. He kisses your length and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“This is so much better than an after party.” You throw your head back as he sucks your cock. He makes good use of his tongue as he takes all of you in his mouth. Kenma’s head bobs up and down while he humps his hand.

The two of you jump at the sound of knocking at the door.

“Hey!” Kuroo calls out your name. Kenma knows he should get up and hide in the bathroom but he just can't pry himself away from your cock. You grab a fistful of Kenma’s hair and push him further along your length, letting him know you don't want him to leave either. “You're not coming to the party?” He jiggles the door handle. Kenma looks up at you with the most seductive eyes you've ever seen, his tongue swirls around your cock.

“Are you asleep?” He knocks again.

“I’ll be there later!”

“You better be! You're the reason we're celebrating! And tell Kenma to come too!” Kuroo leaves.

The adrenaline rush makes your cock erupt like a volcano in Kenma’s mouth. Kenma swallows it all then stands up. He leans into your ear. “I’ll give you something else after the party.” He smiles, making his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

As soon as you get back to the hotel room, you press Kenma against the door, reversing your previous positions. You couldn't stop the guys from getting you drunk. You forgot you're not supposed to drink alcohol when you're taking suppressants and now you're extremely horny. “Sorry, Ken-” You mumble with your face buried in his neck. “You're such a good friend for me…so fucking good, baby.” You quickly expose both of your lower halves and grab Kenma’s legs, your dick throbbing against his pussy.

“Wa- wait-” Kenma looks down. He was planning for this but he didn't anticipate you acting like this. He's only a little tipsy but he can tell his scent is making you drunker. And your strong pheromones definitely aren't helping him suppress his own.

“You can handle it, Ken, it won't even hurt.” You slowly align the tip of your cock with his entrance. “‘Cause your pussy’s made for me. It’ll fit.”

His cheeks are burning hot. He knows you're super drunk and super influenced by your arousal and his pheromones but hearing that makes his heart flutter. He is made for you. Every part of him. It won't hurt. “Ye- yeah- it's made for you.” He watches your lips curl into a smile.

“That's right.” You slowly slide inside him without much resistance. “There we go…there we go, baby.”

Kenma digs his blunt nails into your shoulders and presses his head against the door. It does hurt but it's not as bad as he thought. He moans your name. None of the dildos he's used could even come close to your cock.

“Fuck—” You moan. You sink your teeth into his neck. Kenma gasps, his eyes widening. You marked him. He bites down on his lip and grins as you bottom out. He knows it's wrong but he's so glad you marked him. Now you have no choice but to stay with him. You belong to him.

You thrust into him slowly. “You feel so good..”

He moans your name. “Yes- yes– like that—” He loves the pace you're going at, it gives him the opportunity to really take you in properly. He doesn't even care if his teammates can hear him. He's too happy. “Daddy~”

“‘M gonna knock you up, Ken…breed you til you're full.” You grow.

“Yes! Breed me~!” Kenma squeals. He rolls his eyes back and moans shamelessly. He's already gonna come.

You quicken your thrusts. “Mine.” You both reach your climax at the same time, his pussy happily takes in your seed.

You slowly open your eyes. Kenma’s next to you fast asleep and wearing your shirt. Your memories of last night are foggy. All you remember is fucking Kenma and marking him. You wonder if he’s mad at you. You hope not...this is what you wanted all along. You didn't plan for it to happen so soon though.

He wakes up thanks to you shuffling out of bed. He says your name sleepily.

“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up.”

“‘s fine.” He sits up. “Last night…”

“I…I barely remember it, but I know I marked you..” You stare at the teeth marks on his neck. “I’ll take full responsibility. You're my best friend so I won't abandon you.”

“Thanks..” He smiles softly. “I don't mind. It's better than dealing with rejection and break ups, right?”

“Right.” You nod, smiling back.

“Can you help me shower? My legs are sore.”

“Of course." You pick him up.

The team stares at you and Kenma as you sit down for breakfast. They're almost done eating. Kenma’s ears are bright red.

“Soo…” Kuroo pokes the last chunk of his food with his fork. “Should we be worried about…a baby….?”

[thewitchblue]

You were a ray of sunshine in the Batfamily's life. You loved the children and Bruce with your entire heart, and everyone took notice. You loved each of the family members differently but equally intensely. No kid ever felt unloved by you.

You softly hum as you trace Damian's face. He always struggled to sleep. He struggled to relax enough even with sleep medication aiding him most nights. Until you start humming softly and draw patterns on his face lightly. His entire body physically relaxes as his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out after a minute. His face subconsciously leans into your soothing touch.

With a tender smile on your face and a gentle forehead kiss, you moved onto the next Batboy who struggles with sleep: Dick. You knock your secret knock with a smile on your face. You had a soft spot for Dick the second the kid lost his parents. How could you possibly not when his small body shook so badly in your arms? He had the same tormented look Bruce used to have before your loving family formed.

You hear a soft but excited "come in" from Dick, who seemed to have still been getting ready for bed. He loved it when you told him stories above all else. You told him thousands of your stories, but he was always excited to listen to you talk about the moment you adopted him. You'd tell him about how much you loved him as you reminisced on the first time he called you mom. How your heart had never been so full of love and adoration for your kid. He wasn't an easy kid, but you loved him deeply, and you reminded him constantly.

Dick gives you a warm smile as you set down his nighttime tea: always chamomile with lemon and sugar cubes on the side. It had to be sugar cubes, as the packets tasted weird to him.

"What story do you want tonight, sweetheart?"

He surprised you, honestly, when he asked to hear about how you met Bruce. You chuckle softly.

"It was a rainy Thursday night. We both became vigilantes the same day and met during our nightly adventures. We looked at each other for a long time before we heard police sirens and ran towards it. I must have saved his life hundreds of times that night. We have been close together ever since."

Dick cuddles into his bed and looks at you with wide eyes. He was always excited to hear this story. With a look of adoration, he murmurs,

"And you give us a hard time about our recklessness."

You roll your eyes but can't fight the fond smile off your face. You gently play with Dick's hair, continuing your tale,

"I'm not the one charging into burning buildings nightly without superpowers, darling.

Dick and Bruce adored your moral compass more than anything. You always did what was right no matter how hard it was to do. You saved thousands of lives throughout the time you were a vigilante with Bruce. He called you rash every night because of the way you handled being a superhero, but you see the endangered people and never hesitate. You are immune to damage of all types, so it was easy to run into the thick of danger to save everybody from a burning building or from the Joker's psychopathic game. Joker was angry when he found out you couldn't get hurt. You don't even feel pain because of your powers. You weren't a fun target to him, so he gave up.

"I wish I could've met younger you. I love seeing my mom being a casual badass."

You laugh softly, giving him a cheek kiss as a goodnight. Batboy number 3 was Jason. Jason took after your personality more than the rest and defends you even when it's just reporters talking bad about you. You taught him how to love and accept being loved, despite everything. You taught him to look for the best in everyone because their stories often run deeper than the surface.

You can hear his excited steps as he lets you in. He held up the newest book he wanted to share with you. You read to him every night, as he finds your voice soothes him.

He drags you to his bedside and climbs into his bed. You kissed his forehead before starting to read the book. He knows he could listen to Audiobooks, but he found it was you that soothed him. He found the narrators of Audiobooks often annoying or dramatic, but you read the exact way he wants you to and at the perfect speed.

He was soon drifting off as well, your hand holding his and squeezing morse code messages into his hand. You kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving on.

By the time you were done with all the children, Bruce was back. You grabbed the first aid kid you keep in your shared room. Bruce must've had an easier night because his injuries weren't nearly as life-threatening as usual.

He hissed through his teeth as you cleaned his wounds, but you murmured reassuring words and held his hand with your free hand.

"Just a few more, baby. You're doing so good, my hero."

He squeezed your hand when you were done. His exhausted smile was still so full of love for you.

"We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

He kissed your cheek gently. He loved you deeply, even when it was hard for him to express it. Love truthfully scared him ever since his parents' deaths, but you were the ray of sunshine in his darkest of nights.

"I'm lucky to have my little army of heroes. I love you and the kids."

He gave a tired hum of acknowledgement.

"We all love you too."

Alfred, appearing as silently as ever at the doorway of the bedroom, said,

"Master Wayne, if you don't marry her, I will."

You laugh at Bruce's shocked expression. He whipped around to face Alfred, who was staring at him with a look that was so serious you couldn't help but smirk at. While you'd love to marry Bruce, you knew it wasn't that simple for him. He struggles with the idea of having a loving wife waiting for him. He doesn't feel like he deserves it at the moment, and you respect that. You will continue to be the mother of his children and the warm presence in his life. You voice your thoughts,

"Alfred, I don't need to marry Bruce to be part of the family."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce, but Bruce was in another place.

"That much is clear, but I still want you officially part of the family. You're the glue holding everyone together."

You smile at the duo. Family is so much deeper than blood, and you continue to prove it to the Bat family every day. You ruffle Bruce's hair gently.

"I'd never say no to my boys."

Bruce took Alfred's advice on your anniversary. He proposed in front of the entire family, which inevitably ended in a dog pile of hugs from all your boys and a sweet kiss from Bruce.

Bruce, your private and loving fiancée, confirmed the engagement to the world the next day, holding up your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. He held your engagement hand everywhere he went, the rest of the Bat family fighting to hold your other hand, eventually scheduling who holds your other hand in an endless cycle.

[gay-dorito-dust]

been thinking about dante with an artist!reader who secretly draws him (he finds out anyways). like he knows they can draw but suddenly stumbles upon a whole different sketch book and sees beautiful drawings/doodles of him in either his human form or devil trigger even. I can imagine he’d be a lil’ emotional bc “never thought someone could see me this way” and then confronts the reader about it (its all cute and stuff*barffss*)

Dante had never once knew a day where you were without your sketchbooks, pens, pencils, a handful of colouring pencils and a incredible talent to bring whatever you drew to life. It didn't matter what it was that you were drawing becuase it always came out looking better then the actual thing; art was a massive part of your life with some of your favourite works were pinned to your walls, showcasing your range as well as your clutered desk filled with half finished sketches and images that you were using as references were strewn about the desk too.

So when you had asked him to grab something from your room, a sketchbook? pencils? that weird manakin that you use when drawing people? He couldn't remeber exactly what you wanted as it went in one ear and out the other. So he thought if he grabbed whatever his eyes landed on and pray that it was the one that you needed, however what his eyes first saw was your open sketchbook on your desk, and on the two page spread was sketches and drawings of him and his devil trigger form.

Dante's breath hitched in his throat as he felt himself move on it's own towards the open sketchbook on your desk to get a better look of the sketches, only to be left without without any air within his lungs as he saw how you saw him; dangerous but in the beautiful way possible with how you made the red within his coat stand out, or how you made gold mingle with the red of his devil trigger pratically glow in a heavenly light as his horns looked more like a halo then actual devil horns.

You even made his wings looked beautiful on their own with how you made them look as though they had collected all the colours in existence and selfishly hoarded them within his demonic looking wings!

You made him look ehtreal, like he wasn't a demon but instead an angel with a unique look that made him look demonic, and it was enough to have dante a little caught up in his feelings as he didn't exactly held a fondess towards his demonic heritage as it was only something that granted him more benifits for demon hunting and nothing more. Yet here you were making him wanting to appreciate this aspect of himslef when he goes through all of your sketches, only to find more of his devil trigger and himself whether it'd be him fast as sleep or eating pizza and strawberry sundaes; You made him look like a work of art only ever seen within a museum along with the other admired masterpieces.

Something he didn't think anyone would ever see him -especially his devil trigger form- in that particular light and you only proved him wrong by drawing him the way you saw him on the daily, and enough to draw him in bulk within the precious pages of you've sketchbook, something you've told him stuck with him about how you didn't draw anything you didn't view as beautiful or was worth showing it's hidden beauty.

So seeing him within your sketchbook only made Dante feel more honoured to be viewed as beautiful by you, to be the muse that you spent countless and tireless hours working on to perfection late into the night, to be something you wanted to display the truest beauty of by drawing him from the heart of an artist and the end result was something Dante couldn't have fathomed at all.

Further forgetting what he had came into your room orignally for, Dante rushed out the door and went down the stairs in a flash as thougg he was running out of time, capturing you within his arms as he burries his head within your neck and catching you by surpise. 'Jesus Dante, what's gotten into you.' you laughed as you heard him purr soflty in your ear, making you smile and begin to run your fingers through his hair gingerly. 'what's going on within that head of yours?' you add barely above a whisper as his arms tightened on your waist.

'I saw you're drawings of me.' was all he said, still in someway in disbelief that you could make someone like him look like something worth drawing, worth any aspect of portayal as anything other then some half demon that people stay clear of.

You stop caressing his hair upon hearing him say this, which only made him groan as he nudged his head further into your neck needily, huffing and pouting like an overgrown puppy dog that desperetly craves affection constantly. 'You did?' Dante hums. 'what did you think of them?' you asked, nervous now of what his thoughts and opinions on them were.

'i've never had someone draw me, or see me like you do.' Dante says. 'You know i've never liked my devil trigger, nor the fact that i'm half demon, but yet seeing your drawings of me have made me want to be kinder to myself and not be so harsh to a part od me that you view as beautiful.' He adds, kissing the side of your neck as you caresed his hair once more, making him purr once more as his eyes closed in content upon feeling safe.

'Silly Dante.' you cooed, kissing the side of his head, 'of course i see you as beautiful, always have and it doesn't matter what form you take because you'll always be my beautiful muse, devil trigger or my sweet toothed man,' you finished, wanting nothing the to make Dante see that he was all the man you ever seen him as no matter what, it was the least you could do in hopes of showing Dante that he was worth the time and effort you put into your drawings of him; You do it a hundred times over again if it meant getting squashed tightly against his chest as he purrs into your neck like an conent cat.

Dante pulls away to look you in the eye, mimicing your soft smile as he rests his forhead against yours, high off of your words as he wished he had met you earlier in his life but regareless he'd treasure you with his whole heart for as long as he can. 'Your too good to me sweetheart, far too good for me but i'm too selfish to let you go now, far too greedy to let anyone else be seen the way you see me.' he says, nudging his nose to yours.

'Then be selfish all you like becuase i'm not going anywhere, im content here in your arms as life with you is an adventure i wake up each morning eager to greet with open arms.' You tell him, pecking his lips soflty as another purr ripped from his throat. 'but please for the love of god don't leave pizza boxes laying about again or i'm cutting you off from having strawberry sundaes for a month.' you added with a pointed look as Dante pales, knowing this was bound to come to light no matter how much he kisses and cuddles you to death.

'Dully noted sweetheart, dully noted.' Dante said, hoping you wouldn't actually cut him off from his strawberry sundaes.

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || this is part two || part three || part four || part five

Simon wakes up late, rubbing his eyes and groaning. Usually- because of his big, strong build- he would get away without getting hungover, but today felt different.

His eyes widen as he remembers the antics of the night before, peering down at the inside of his wrist and the smudged scrawl of numbers. "Fuck..." Ghost gulps, standing up from his messy bed and pulling open the blinds to the mid-day sunshine. Thank goodness it was the weekend.

After a moment of just standing idly, recounting the evening as well as questioning life choices, Simon glances at his phone, turning it on only to see the bombardment of texts and notifications. Most texts were from Soap and Gaz, begging for a follow up on the 'window lassie' but also multiple from his other mates (who Soap had obviously blabbed too about the encounter) pretty much pleading for information and context.

"Shit," He moans, grabbing on a T-shirt and fumbling the blurry number into his contacts. He didn't even know your name, let alone why he was quite so smitten with you. The soldier takes a while typing out and deleting messages, almost feeling panicky over what to send. Christ this girl is making me soft. He thinks, frowning slightly as he hovers over the send button.

'hi'

It had taken him four whole minutes to pluck up the courage just to send two letters. 'hi'.

What the fuck.

You look over at your phone as it buzzes, peering at the notification from an unknown number. You assumed it was the man in the mask- Simon- from the previous night.

'who is this?' you respond, clicking send without a second thought. You raise your eyebrows a little at the immediate response.

'Simon' You read his text out loud, laughing at how eager he must have been to reply so quickly. After adding him to your contacts under the name 'mask man (Simon)' you return to your conversation with the man. You giggle again as you see Ghost typing on and off for at least five minutes, spluttering as he finally sends 'U ok' three letters. No punctuation. Damn.

Simon perches on the end of his mattress, phone clutched firmly in his large hands. He was still texting you, freaking out a bit as he sees the three dots appear. He had that weird feeling in his stomach again... That unfamiliar (unfamiliar to Simon, at least) feeling that must be what other people describe as 'butterflies'. He stares into space, whole body jumping up as the phone pings.

'I'm good thanks'

'You?'

Ghost grins widely as he reads it, palming his face as if to switch back to a grumpy exterior. He couldn't fathom why he was getting so giddy over this girl and was even more surprised that he was this giddy without even drinking anything. (Not counting the night before, of course.)

'good'

You smile at his answer. You felt as if you knew this man you'd never even spoken to properly. Heck, you'd never even seen his face, but still found yourself blushing at the thought of him.

Taking a deep breath, Simon sends another text. Goodness knows how long it took him to write those three deadly words- 'are you free today?' He turns his phone off, tossing it onto the bed and pacing around the room for a minute. It was very cliché and comical, but very unironic.

When the mobile vibrates again, he throws himself across to the phone, heart beating quickly and face red with nerves.

'yeah. wanna get coffee or something?'

Ghost's reaction is the text book definition of a jaw drop, his eyes widening and pulse thumping in his ears. He jolts up again and starts rummaging through his chest of draws for any clothes that were somewhat decent. "I need new clothes, what the fuck is this shit..." He mutters, grimacing at the tatty old jeans and tops with weird and out of date slogans.

Unbeknownst to Simon, you were doing the exact same thing, grabbing out dresses and jeans and T-shirts and jackets, squinting at the old stuff you'd probably had since you were a teenager. You return to your phone, realising you hadn't proposed a time or place for meeting up.

'is 3ish good? The coffee shop along West Street?'

You can't help but feel a buzz of excitement as Simon replies with a thumbs up emoji, your whole face lighting up as you rush back to picking out a nice outfit.

All this for a man I barely know? You think, raising your eyebrows absent-mindedly. Sure. Why the fuck not.

At three, you stand outside the suggested café feeling way more anxious then you had expected to. You glance at your phone every so often, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket and gazing around at passers by trying to pick out your date from the crowds. Date? You thought it was a date, at least.

Simon rushes down the road, stuffing his wallet and phone into the pockets of the cleanest jeans he could find. He tugs on a jacket as he speed walks, also hosting a plain black T-shirt and the same skull printed balaclava as before. He figured he should probably explain the mask... just to ensure you didn't think he was a robber, or something sketchy.

Yet again, his heart starts to pound as he catches sight of you, his cheeks burning beneath the mask. He approaches you with a slower pace, trying to seem nonchalant. "Hi," He gasps, doubling over to catch his breath. Simon was usually a very fit man, what with his work, but the anticipation seemed to make him weaker.

"Hello," You respond, smiling warmly at the man. Still in that mask, huh? You think, raising your eyebrows and looking down as he gasps for air. "Are... you okay?" Stuttering slightly, you reach out, hand hovering over Simon's back unsure weather to pat it or hold him up or at least help him in some way.

"Sorry-" He grunts, standing back up and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I ran," He gushes, trying to justify his panting.

"Oh..?" You nod, a bit confused. "Should we go in?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. Ghost smiles with his eyes and nods, tentatively placing a large hand on your back as you walk inside together.

here's the part two, hope you enjoyed it!

I'll do part three if you guys want! (I'll probs do it anyways bc what can I say, I'm kinda invested)

@scaleniusrm

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Excuse me, Mr. Loaf Man?

Masterlist²

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: platonic: Salesman x Reader,

Characters: Salesman, Reader, background homeless people, parents - mom and dad,

Tags: gn!child!Reader, compassionate!Salesman, still unhinged!Salesman, abusive parents, angst, fluff, comfort, 2nd person POV, Reader's POV, alternating POV, 3rd person POV, Salesman's POV, Reader is a single child, obsessed!Salesman,

Warnings: spousal abuse(implied), child abuse, starvation, force feeding, yelling, child negligence, vomiting (mention), Reader is locked in a closet as punishment, cuss word(s) (I think)

Summary: 10 year old Reader prefers spending their time in a park. They can keep themself entertained. Sometimes they see a man walking around, talking with homeless people. After a couple of times, they decide to approach him.

Word count: 6075

Acronyms: (y/n) - your name, (f/n) - father's name, (m/n) - mother's name

A/N: Pretty sure there's dubious pacing; mind any possible grammatical errors or accidental shift of Reader's gender.. Tell me if I missed a tag; I'm weird and I can't write

A/N: I was the one that made the childish drawing above on my tablet. Just for this fanfic. I just edited it a little to look like it's a child showing it (hands are from google). I tried to make reader neutral looking but I couldn't manage. But it's the thought that counts. Don't copy without tagging me.

Reader's POV

You make your way to the nearby park, again. You sort of can't wait, you hope that the kind man will be there today as well. For days you've been bracing yourself how to approach him.

On days when your mom can't immediately pick you up from school, — tuesdays, thursdays and fridays — you learned to keep yourself busy. Your favorite place is at the park. Nobody bothers you there. And one day you saw a man in a suit with bags in each hand. He went up to every homeless man and woman handing out something. You couldn't see it from so far away. No one looks at homeless people. But he does, so he must be kind.

If he's willing to talk to them then maybe he'll talk to you too? No one really likes you either. You don't have any friends. And dad certainly thinks of you as too revolting to look at.

After that day you went to the park every time mom runs late. Keeping an eye out for him. He wasn't always there. But you felt better after getting a glance of him. Also you kept shortening the distance from which you were watching him.

But now you are ready. You didn't have to wait long after arriving. You basically rush up to him and before you can chicken out you speak. "Excuse me, sir…?"

He turns to look at you, his expression a little irritated and curious at being interrupted. A raised eyebrow and a short "Yes?" is enough to make you continue.

"What do you have in those bags, sir?" you ask tilting your head.

He considers you for a moment then he opens one bag, curtly replying "Bread."

You feel your eyes widening at the amount of packaged loaves. Is that what he always offers others? You look up at him eagerly, "Can I have one, please?"

To your astonishment he agrees and lets you take it. "Gamsahabnida, sir." [Thank you, sir] With that you rush back to your spot on the bench.

You happily eat while you see him going through every person. After the last man, he then walks and stops in the centre of the pavement. He does something you didn't see before nor expect. He empties both bags to the ground, bread lands on the ground. And when a man crouching, reaches for one. He stomps on it.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice." His voice is loud enough for you to clearly hear what he's saying. "I'm not the one who threw these away." He points to the ground, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

And then he starts jumping and crushing the bread. You keep nibbling on your loaf but it does nothing to calm your beating heart at the familiar sight. You know very well it's a reasonable punishment for not eating. You don't understand how they could keep denying the bread to the point that today the kind man had enough of them. You're happy you managed to get one loaf from him.

You keep your gaze down on the ground in front of you. There's still plenty of time until mom can finally drive you home.

So you decide to do your homework. You were already half-way done when lesson ended. You were putting the last touches when a shadow falls on you and your notebook. You glance up to see loaf man staring intensely at you. Does he want to sit here?

Your cheeks flush with shame, you scramble up to pack everything. "S-sorry, sir."

He grabs your wrist to stop you from packing up further. "It's fine. I don't mind." He gives you a small smile. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?"

You hug your exercise book to soothe yourself. "At work. Mom doesn't pick me up until later." A bit of silence passes that you break quietly. "Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious."

In softened voice and a bit slowly the man speaks, "Did I frighten you little one? Are you scared of me?"

You're pinching and rubbing the book cover in a soothing motion. You look at the ground which is when you notice he still has the paper bags but this time containing stomped on bread.

"Not really? I was a little startled when you dumped and crushed the bread… But I get it. My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so; even if I don't like the taste."

"Is that so?" It's told with an edge you can't pick up.

You nod your head, your grip on the book loosens.

"How old are you?"

"…ten…" Your answer is mumbled enough that the man has to lean in closer to hear it.

"You're ten?" He whispered in disbelief. He looks around as if to see if someone finds this unbelievable as well. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes jump across your face in search of something.

"It's usually 4:48 PM. Maybe minutes earlier or later. I don't mind it much. I'm a big kid."

His eyes darkened for a moment only to be swiftly replaced by softness and calmness. He sends you a charming smile. "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

You shake your head and that's that.

Since Mr. Loaf Man doesn't mind, you unpack again to finish the rest of your homework. He doesn't speak to you again. Just sits there, quietly observing you. After you finish every homework you had, you decide to play around. A little hide and seek. Mr. Loaf Man even played along with you! When time neared 4:30 you already have everything in your backpack and are ready to head back to your school gate. That was the moment when he offered to walk you there. He's so kind! Of course you readily agreed.

After arriving to your school, he makes sure you'll be okay alone and walks away. You only wait six minutes after that for your mom to come. You step into the car and buckle your seatbelt.

"Did you have fun at school sweetie?"

"Yes, mom. Just like always. I even got to solve an equation and write it on the board!" You say with excitement.

"That's amazing, sweetie."

...

"Mom…?" she hums, "…what's for dinner today?"

"Maybe… Baechu Guk, hmm?" You actually like it so maybe it won't be that bad today. You will lick the plate clean! And dad will be happy. It's not your favorite but at least it's not sannakji. You felt really sick after eating that. You hate it but dad makes sure you eat it everytime it's served. You can cry and scream but dad knows how to force you to swallow it. But more often than not, you throw up afterwards. And then you don't get to eat for couple days. As a way to make up for you wasting food.

Mom parks the car before your house. You quickly get out to help her carry the grocery bag. She opens the door and you make your way to the kitchen. Not before quickly taking off your shoes. In fast moves you set everything on the table and then place things in the correct cupboards (those that you can reach).

Your mom walks in, having already hung her coat. "That's okay, (y/n). I have it from here. You go to your room and do your homework, okay? Food will be ready in half an hour." She rubs your head.

"Okay mom." You go to the front door to leave your jacket on the hanger. You hurry to your room.

You only have 30 minutes to think of a gift for Mr. Loaf Man. You need to show your gratitude. It's proper.

But you don't know what he likes… A bracelet is out, he doesn't seem like the type. Besides it's more a gift for girls. A key chain? You don't know his favorite colors though, so it's out too.

A picture maybe? Nothing goes wrong there. Maybe it's a little basic… But you might be able to give him something better later on.

But you want it to look, if not good, decent enough. It has to show your gratefulness. So minutes pass as you test out different colors and positions and something always didn't sit quite right. It turns out ugly. You ended up re-doing it every time. You couldn't decide what else to draw when mom calls for dinner.

Dad already sat in his chair, his face forever frozen on expressing frustration. You join the table as mom brings food.

First portion goes to dad then mom and then to you. You wait until dad starts eating.

"(y/n), tell your dad what you managed to do today."

You nod your head, enthusiastic to share your accomplishment. Dad might be happy too. "I got to do an exercise in front of the whole class! I solved every equation correctly."

He scoffs, "What is there to be proud of? You probably forgot to do your homework."

You lower your head and focus on eating, every ounce of excitement leaving your body.

"(f/n)!"

"What?! You know I'm telling the truth! They're incompetent! Not even the top of their class." He grunts and goes back to eating.

"They're capable enough not to need help with homework. (y/n), did you manage to finish everything your teacher gave you?"

Forgetting to swallow, you answer that yes, you did. Your mother continues, "See? They did that in half an hour."

Dad growls and bangs his hand on the table. "Are you blind, (m/n)?! Did you not see what I did? How many times have I repeated myself- No talking with your mouth full! Clearly (y/n) is a useless brat! Nothing stays in that head."

You curl in on yourself further. Wishing to become invisible in this moment. But you also hurry with Baechu Guk to avoid angering him further. And because you're going to need it. As you know you can't avoid your punishment for forgetting a rule. Thankfully this time your dad decides to punish you after dinner.

Mom cleans the table while dad grips your small arm and leads you to the punishment closet. He shoves you inside. "You should know the deal. But since you're a forgetful dumbass, I'll repeat it for you." He leans closer to your face, disgust clear on his face. "You stay here as long as the number of times you broke the rules. For every disobedience is 10 more minutes. Today marks 110 minutes, congratulations. Now, quiet!" He hissed the last part. With that he slams the closet shut. You hear him lock the closet door with a key.

You're shaking all over. Alone in the darkness, dreading how long 110 minutes will feel like. You feel your tears run down your cheeks. You hope he won't forget to get you out. You won't have time to do Mr. Loaf Man that drawing otherwise… You hope that this friday he'll be there and won't mind your company again.

earlier, Salesman's POV

He's heading toward the park where most of the homeless reside. It's the latest whim of the frontman. Social experiments. As if humanity has any hope for redemption. Especially the trash. He's confident it's the fault of player 456 for this idiocy.

Arrogance seems to be a heritable trait for winners. They think of themselves as special. Player 456 with his will to put a stop to the games and player 132… well, being chosen as the next frontman and successor by the host surely went to his head.

He arrives to the park when he hears someone run in his direction. He was ready to pay them no mind. He's far more irritateable today. He keeps walking until he hears a child's voice. "Excuse me, sir…?"

Curious what a child might want from him, he turns his head to look at them. He lets out a clipped "Yes?". Though he had no intention for it to come out unkind. Apparently today the hold on his mask is far looser than he thought.

Astonishingly the child isn't deferred by his sharpness. With a tilt to their head they ask the last question he expected. Which it shouldn't have been, considering the circumstances.

"What do you have in those bags?"

He considers for a moment what to do. Ignore, not ignore, lie or not. But he sees no harm in answering truthfully. He shifts his hold to open one of the bags so the child can see inside. He says "Bread." with more stable tone, but still has some curtness to it.

He sees their eyes widen with wonder. Their mouth goes slack in shock. They look back up at him in seconds asking if they can have one.

He agrees. One package less won't interfere with overall choice of the less fortunate. There's always more than enough bread left over. Not many choose food over a lottery ticket.

They rush off after saying "Gamsahabnida, sir!". And he goes about his routine. He approaches men, among which only one chose to take the packaged bread and immediately inhaled it. The few women there are a different matter. Within the four only one chose lottery. It always seems like females are smarter in that regard. It's never enough though.

But today, there was something about their choices that kept adding fuel to his already bad mood. He stops in the front, puts down his suitcase and the bags. Then he takes one bag after the other and spills their contents to the ground. Homeless crowd moves with confused apprehension. He pays them no mind.

He feels a twitch of apathy at the quantity. This pile of bread shows exactly why natural selection is so important. Here's proof that humanity's advancement in medicine not only helped raise quality of life, but also allowed inferior genes to survive. Some characteristics should've died out a long time ago.

"Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?" Unbelievable. The audacity of the question. Doesn't the damn hypocrite hear himself? He declined it, preferred a hopeless chance at winning lottery over nutrition.

The revolting scum reaches for the bread. The entitlement astounds him and he won't let it stand. He crushes the bread with his shoe. But he gains no satisfaction witnessing the uncomprehending expression. "I gave you a chance, and you made your choice."

It doesn't register in their microscopic brains. His voice raises: "I'm not the one who threw these away." he point at the ground to emphasize, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

But he observes no shift in their expressions or postures. No change. No remorse. Nothing.

Their lack of critical thinking and absolute absence of self-awareness among them drive him into a frenzy.

He stomps and jumps with fervor, squashing as many bread buns as he can. He unleashes on these packages his tightly contained frustration and anger toward this crowd, his boss and that stupid player 456.

His energy runs out fairly quickly but he feels slightly better for it.

He presses his hands against his face, applying pressure to further ground him to the present. Tries to fix his hair then straighten his spine and tucks in the tie.

He look around to see which packages survived the ordeal. He picks up each one that did and puts them back into the bag. The ungrateful vermin don't deserve good things that's clear.

He's back hiding away behind his calm and unbothered mask. He makes a move to turn around and leave when he sees them. The same child that inquired after the bread.

They're still here? Why? If they saw his actions, why do they remain around? And… are they doing homework?!

He finds himself puzzled and his feet lead him to them automatically. He can't avert his eyes from the sight. Apparently unbothered by the scene he caused just now. He stands there casting a shadow over their book.

You startle and seem in a hurry to make space for him to sit. Except… It looks like you want to get away entirely. He doesn't want that. He takes hold of your wrist to stop you.

"It's fine, I don't mind." He aims for a reassuring smile and doesn't know if he succeeds. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?" Why are you alone when anything tragic can happen to you at anytime?

He notes you're a little nervous or shy but aren't hostile toward him. "At work… Mom doesn't pick me up until later." How much later? He's a psychopathic man who keeps up a facade on a daily basis just to pass as normal; and even he knows it's negligent to leave someone so small and innocent without protection. Wasn't there a saying or a quote telling children should be cherished? Is society at such a low point it's acceptable nowadays? A spark of anger lights up within him, again. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts.

"Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious." Such a polite child. He notes that you still hang on that book for dear life.

He slows his words intentionally, softens his tone to not unnerve you further. "Did I frighten you, little one? Are you scared of me?"

He observes your body, hands are shaking a little, fingers twitching at the book cover.

"… My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so. Even if I don't like the taste."

You answer quietly, but oh. Hearing that you not only understand his actions but your dad forces you to eat something you don't enjoy. That's a brand of cruelty that he finds distasteful. Forcing anybody to anything they're unwilling to is atrocious. At least, he manipulates and twists other's perceptions until people agree by themselves. He has enough finesse to do it the correct way after all.

"Is that so?" You only nod your head. Moreover you're not as tense anymore. Maybe that's what spurs him on to ask the next question, even if it has the ability to anger him further. "How old are you?" He leans in quickly enough to hear you say ten.

T e n .

"You're ten?" He voices his disbelief so quietly he doesn't know if he made any noise. He looks to his right then left almost looking for any possible threat because this child is ten years old and alone, left to their own devices. He's breathless for a moment, because at this discovery he feels unreasonably protective. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes take every detail of your face, hoping that it won't be long. But his hopes are crushed like the bread beforehand.

"It's usually 4:48PM…" What kind of parent leaves a child alone for 3 hours?! Truly horrible one, apparently.

"…I'm a big kid." Ohh… The instinct to kill anyone who would even dare to ruin that innocence overwhelms him for a second. He harshly tugs on his control to smile pleasantly at you, "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

He receives a shake of your head as an answer. It's so frustratingly easy to have your trust. How come nobody took advantage of that already, he does not know. But he will try his best to keep an eye out for you from now on.

Which he'd be doing a poor job since, at some point, you seemed to have disappeared into thin air from one second to the next. He grew alarmed instantly when he didn't see you next to him. Looking around for you or possible suspects wondering how he didn't notice anyone move. That was until he heard a giggle. He whips around to see a child's shadow behind the tree. He felt instant relief, his heart slowing it's alarming rate.

Apparently someone thought it'd be a good idea to play hide and seek without telling him. And since you're not in danger…

Well… Two can play that game.

"Little one? Where have you gone to?" Another muffled giggle can be heard. "I didn't get to become friends with you properly…" He overexaggerates his sadness. "How will I play with you when I don't even know your name little flower?" He stomps his foot dramatically, childishly, "And now you're gone and we won't meet anymore. Because I don't know how to find you…"

Now those adorable giggles turn into full blown laughter. You step away from the tree and easily run to him to hug his legs.

"You're so silly! We're already friends!" He hugs back to the best of his abilities. And says with, not even faked, surprise: "Really?! I didn't know that!"

"Besides we can meet here in the park, I come here after school, most of the time."

He feels a gentle smile on his face. Being in your presence for such a short time already make him feel lighter and his world a little brighter. Such an easy happiness. "That's good."

"Yeah, also my names is (y/n)! Now you know me." You clap your hands, excited, and go to sit on the bench again.

(y/n), what a beautiful name. I'll protect you, (y/n). No harm will come to you.

He looks at his wristwatch. 4:04. Soon you're getting home. He will walk you there.

When he asks if he can, you agree, again. Turns out he could only walk you to the school gates. Your mother picking you up with a car.

He chose to depart from you, but he stayed to observe from afar. He was displeased since it looked like the mother is malnourished as well as tired. Most of the fault lies solely on your father then. She at least looks a little overworked. It's clear your parents are unfit for the responsibility of caring for a child.

Soon (y/n) will rely on him for everything. He can't wait to meet again.

Back to Reader's POV

When you were finally let out of the closet you were tired. Emotionally drained. You couldn't draw for Mr. Loaf Man now, since you didn't have any energy. You went to the bathroom almost immediately.

Now you are laying on your bed, under the comfort of your blanket and beloved plushie. You pray you'll have time to draw something tomorrow at school. You already put your crayons in your backpack. You just need time. It doesn't even matter to you how it'll turn out. But you can't, won't go empty handed.

You fall into dreamless slumber.

And so you wake up next morning and go through the motions until you're at school. Then at breaks you sit somewhere on the sidelines, using the time to draw the most standard and boring drawing ever. First you did him then yourself. Then you drew a sun in the corner. You wrote who's who just in case. On the next break you drew the green grass and lastly the blue sky.

You're happy it's friday today. That means Mr. Loaf Man and the weekend.

When your lessons end you're in a hurry and have a slight spring in your step. You're basically vibrating with anticipation. You'll head straight to the same bench as yesterday.

But when you arrive… You gasp. He's already there waiting for you. You feel a wide grin spread on your face in happiness. When he notices you, his expression lifts as well.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes!" You nod your head quickly a couple of times, it made you dizzy. "I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Whether it's your nickname for him or your gift you don't know. You take off your backpack and immediately open it to reach the drawing.

"I'm sorry it's not good and not pretty enough but I was in a hurry." You hand it to him. He holds it gently as if afraid of crumbling it. He looks at it for a long time in complete silence. So much so that slowly your proud smile gets smaller and smaller. "You don't like it…?" Your voice wavers slightly under your sadness. Your blurry eyes make their way from his face to focusing on his tie.

"What-?" His voice croaks as if he didn't speak for days. "I love it."

You look up at that. "Really?" His face is unguarded. His eys are shiny, one tear already ran down his left cheek. His eyebrows are twitching as if they're unsure which way to go.

"Of course, it's just… it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift. And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He open his arms offering a hug. You take him up on it. His grip on you is unyielding. "Come on, don't cry. There's no need." You hoop your arms around his neck and press your face to his shoulder. He picks you up into his lap. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?" is gently whispered to your ear. You choose this moment to pat his hair, in — what you hope for — is a soothing gesture. You don't know if you succeeded since he started trembling.

He doesn't let you go for a long while. But you don't either.

When both of you are back to decently presentable — and not falling apart — you break away from each other.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He takes the grocery bag that was next to him and reaches inside. He passes to you another packaged bread. You take it and immediately dig in. You thank him for it. "Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you then to the homeless then back to you. "No and no. I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in askance.

But you nod your head, "Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow, "What do you mean?"

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food." You smile up at him, "That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair. But…" You take a thoughtful expression, "I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week."

You focus back on the man's face only to be met with an impressed and proud expression. You feel your cheeks warm up at that look.

"You're very smart and observant, little one;" his soft voice prods at your shyness, "not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When your eyes don't lift from the ground, he speaks up again. "Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?"

You look up at him in question.

"What? I have some ideas…"

Salesman's POV

He finds his yesterday's behavior a little ridiculous. Moreover over a child he barely knows anything about. He couldn't put his obssessive focus towards learning more. With only their name and the fact (y/n) has horrendous parents.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't pay any attention to their mother's car registration plate. At least then he'd have a starting point. At this point in time however he can look into the school. The type of students there and the staff.

It did nothing to calm his mind.

He spent his time in bed thinking of many ways to bring them closer to him. How he should go with disposing their parents when he finally learns where you live.

The following morning he wakes from restless sleep and stayed that way throughout his day. Five people he approached to recruit and each time his hand was twitching to use the pent up energy on slapping the trash.

Arriving to the park at similar time as the day before wasn't a problem. Although he automatically sits down on the same bench. Call him overeager and impatient all you want. He has enough patience to wait for you.

And waiting for you he was. He didn't even learn if you have time to come here today.

But he shouldn't have worried, he sees your small form approaching him with clear joy. The moment he notices you, he feels his mood improve. He's not even sure if he manages to contain his own happiness over your eagerness.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes! I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Loaf man? However did you come up with that? And did he hear correctly..? You brought something for him?

Quickly your backpack's on the ground and a paper's in your hands. He looks at the paper and his breathing stops. A drawing.

You made a drawing for him, of him and you. "I'm sorry it's not good and pretty enough but I was in a hurry." He can't tear his eyes away from it. He gingerly accepts it from you. Your hands did this. For him. You spent enough of your time thinking about him, in good light nonetheless, that you had to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. It's the most precious thing he came across in a long time.

"You don't like it…?" He barely catches your voice. But when he registers the insecurity in it. He finally looks at you, however it does little, because he doesn't know when he started tearing up.

"What-?" His voice croaks from the sheer pressure of emotions. But he'll sooner kill himself than make you feel inadequate, unappreciated, unloved. "I love it." You have to know that.

"Really?" Fragile hope in your voice is enough to render his tailored armor useless. How does he explain?

"Of course, it's just…" he breathes deeply, "it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift." Does he even remember the last time? "And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He needs to hold you. In this moment he craves to bring you as close as he can to his normally unfeeling heart. He open his arms in invitation.

You take him up on it too.

He grips you strongly. You can't leave him. Not when you demolished his foundation, unearthing emotions he never thought he could feel. You simply can't. He'll lose himself completely.

"Come on, don't cry. There's no need." He doesn't know if it's directed at you or himself. Your small arms wrap around his neck, your face tries to bury itself in his shoulder. He picks you up to hold onto you more comfortably. He presses his head against yours. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?"

His thumb moves up and down on your back. He drowns in his overwhelming love for you. That's when he feels your hand. Your fingers going through his hair, petting him.

Here he is. A monster reduced into quivering mess. Wrapped around your little finger. You're such a devious yet innocent little marvel. You don't even do this on purpose. To have him ready and willing to bend to your every whim in no time at all.

It takes a long while for both of you to calm down and for him to regain his control. You break away from each other when you're sure neither of you won't fall apart all over again.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He reaches next to him for the bag he nearly forgot about. Since he can't trust your parents about your nutrition, he'll take it upon himself. Three hours is a long time for you to grow hungry anyway. There's no harm in providing food. You take the bread from him and with a quick thank you start eating.

"Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you. You never even talked to them and you're concerned for them. He looks at their pathetic figures, lying, wasting away in the sun. They're undeserving of your concern. He looks back at you and your questioning expression.

"No and no." He shakes his head, he doesn't even want to think about them much less approach. Even if he knows he'll have to at some point. "I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in mimicry of your action yesterday.

And just like the other times, you don't question his actions nor motives. You simply nod your pretty head.

"Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow at that.

"What do you mean?" He can feel his shackles raising. Such a dangerous territory…

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food."

So not only is your father shoving food down your throat… He starves you for not holding it down as well. If he ever gets his hands on that repulsive monster, he'll make sure he suffers greatly for his sins.

Your large smile grounds him away from his plans. Even if that smile shouldn't be so wide after talking about your abuse. How did your innocence survive the ordeal?

"That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair."

Him? Fair? Kind? He's flattered you think so, but he doesn't see it. It's probably because your childish view wasn't ruined. You never saw him do anything truly monstrous. He'll make sure you don't.

"But.. I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week." Your pout is very cute and he'd probably focus on it for longer if not for what you said.

You intelligent and observant little creature, you make him feel emotions he didn't before. He's impressed how someone so young can be smarter than the common person. Maybe there's still hope after all. You might not have been acquaintanced for long, barely a day, but he feels pride for your astuteness. He latched onto you. You're his; his light in this dark world with deceptive roads and sharp curves covered with shadows. He'll nurture that intelligence to the best of his abilities.

He sees you blush at his attention, poor thing… You must be so unused to positive attention. He won't let it continue. With a softness he didn't know he's capable of, he voices the compliments. "You're very smart and observant, little one; not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When you still don't look up, he speaks again. This time on a different topic, away from his admiration. Baby steps.

"Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?" It works wonders. You look up with a question in your eyes. "What? I have some ideas…

…What do you think about ice-cream?" His suggestion makes your eyes light up with excitement. His world is a little brighter for it.

He'd take you to every shop and buy you anything you'd briefly glance at if that's how you'll look everytime. Just for a chance to see your smiles again.

After ice-cream, you spent the time by simply being in each other's company. You wanted to go back to the park and so you did, but this time to a different part of it. Far away from those hopeless causes. The time flew past just as quickly as the day before. But this time when he walked you to your school's gate and left to observe from afar. He remembered to memorise the licence plate.

He can get to know you to his heart's content. But first, home.

I feel like my brand of weirdness clashed with Salesman's diffrent kind of freak; but I don't think he's too OOC..?

I hope you liked it. <3 There are other parts I have in store, but they can act as stand alone. Tell me if you want me to write them.

There's no masterlist for Squid Game yet

[dolcekissy]

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes smoking and mentions of sex.

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rafe had never met a girl that couldn't give two shits about him, until he met you. you know what you want, who are you, what you like, who you like, what you fuckin' hate, who you fuckin' hate.

you've always been so down to earth. always wanting to party, not giving a shit what other people think about you. down to smoke a blunt at anytime, anywhere. especially those cherry flavored blunt wraps you always smell and taste like when you kiss him or when you walk past him, it keeps him craving you. he likes that you have fun and do what you like, unlike the other bitches that are put on this earth to be one of 2 things ─ a whore or a fucking loser.

rafe has grown to be obsessed with you, hyper fixated on you. the fact you aren't like all the whores and fucking losers that are dying to be with him, the ones he fucks once and kicks to the side. he doesn't know how to handle you or why he feels the need to chase you around like a lost puppy.

he just can't leave you alone, the fact you aren't quick to fall for him is something he hates yet loves so much. you're addicting, which is why he's one ─ in your room laid up in your bed sharing a blunt with you, right after fucking the shit out of you, and two ─ gently rubbing at your soft vanilla & wood scented skin after texting you at 2 something in the morning,

"fuck & smoke?"

read 2:13 am

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"rafe?" he looks up at you staring down at him, watching you take a drag from your freshly lit blunt. you gesture the blunt to him and he takes it, taking a long drag and letting the smoke sit in his lungs. he sighs at the taste of that stupid cherry flavored wrap that will always remind him of you.

when you first started messing around you would always make him leave right after. but lately you've grown to like his company. you like being able to fuck, smoke, and touch on one another then make him leave.

he lifts his head watching you stand up adjusting your soft black tank top, eyeing your figure in the mirror infront of you. his eyes trail down to your ass barely covered by your lacey black underwear that compliments the shape of your ass so well. he watches you fix your hair and wipe the dried running mascara off your face. he finds it so sexy knowing he makes you feel so good you cry.

"you're so pretty." he says to you softly. you turn around and look at him, smirking. "yeah?" you say quietly moving back over to your bed, sitting next to him. you watch him place his hand on your thigh, drawing circles and writing his name, laying his head back down on your bed.

"yeah." he moves his eyes to yours, your eyes low and already turning glossy and red. he swears your eyes when your high is a blessing and a curse. you could make him do anything if you looked at him like that all the time.

rafe also knows what he wants, what he likes, who he likes, what he fuckin' hates, who he fuckin' hates. he hates the fact that you're at the top of his 'who i fuckin' hate' list.

he doesn't necessarily hate you in a 'if murder wasn't illegal this bitch would definitely be gone' type of way, he hates that you're all he thinks about. he's always thinking about the way you look at him, the way you smell, how good sex is with you. he hates that you don't think about him like that. you could go days without talking to him and you wouldn't even notice. he hates it, yet it's so addicting.

you move rafe's hand off your leg standing up again, grabbing a random vinyl from your shelf filled of vinyls and placing it on your record player. turning the volume nob up just enough to hear it quietly play. music fills your ears, breaking the silence in your room. when you and rafe are together the silence is never awkward or weird, it's always comforting and calm. rafe has grown to appreciate that. he'd rather sit in silence with you than have some bitch barking in his ear.

you sigh making your way back over to your bed and sit next rafe who is totally hogging your blunt. you grab the blunt from his hand flicking the smoking object, watching the ashes fall onto your ashtray. you take another long drag and move to straddle his waist. giving the blunt back to him.

"hi" rafe says quietly, grinning softly at you while rubbing your hips. "hi, rafe." you say returning his grin, laying your head on his chest.

you lay there like this for a few moments, listening to his heart beat and the music playing in the background. you close your eyes starting to nod off, his gentle touch relaxing you.

"don't want you talking to other dudes anymore." you open your eyes and sit up looking at him for a minute before scrunching your face up in confusion, a small smile on your lips.

"aren't you the one who said no relationship n' feelings n' shit?" you say laying back down on him.

"mm, jus' cause i don't want you talking to other guys doesn't mean we're dating. jus' don't want you to."

you sit up once again placing your hands on his stomach, running your nails over his skin. you watch him place the blunt on his lips taking another hit. he always looks so good like this.

"and since when are you allowed to tell me what to do n' what not to do, mr. cameron?" you ask playfully.

"mm, since right now." he says moving his hand from your hip to your ass, squeezing it.

you take the blunt from him taking a long hit before grabbing his face and kissing him, blowing the smoke into his mouth. "mm, i don't think so cameron."

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[starry-bi-sky]

Danny hurts.

That's nothing new, but he thinks he deserves to talk about it still. He hurts specifically behind his eyes, as if he's been doing nothing but stare at a screen all day, and his lungs feel shallow and stifled like he's run for a mile without stopping. There's an ache in his knees like abdominal cramps, stretching down to his calves and slightly up his thighs. His shoulder blades ache, rooting center towards his spine, snaking down to his hips.

It's bearable, but he still hurts.

It was a nightmare that brought him here, with his arms wrapped around Bruce's middle like a cobra and his ear pressed to the man's stomach. It's not a heartbeat, but he's already checked for it, and if he stops and listens, real quiet, he can hear Bruce's internal organs gurgling. So it's the next best thing, it means he's working as he should.

Bruce's curved finger draws a line down his spine, and then back up, slow and soothingly. Danny shudders involuntarily, gooseflesh popping up on his skin, and his arms tighten briefly, then loosen up. He shakes for a moment, and then tries to sigh out of his nose in a way that didn't reveal just how awful he felt.

"…Tell me about flying?" Bruce asks him after a few seconds of silence, voice quiet and low; tentative. The petting doesn't stop, and Danny blinks slowly. To think, first, and then to try and come up with a response. His jaw feels heavy and sluggish beneath the skin, the way it usually feels when he doesn't want to talk.

He cleans the cobwebs off, tightens his fingers around Bruce's shirt. Loosens it. "Incredible," he croaks, "Weird. It was— crazy. Instinctual. All I needed to do was think about it, and then not even that after I got used to it. I'd think about going up and- and I'd go up. Or down. And I'd tell myself to slow down or go faster, and- and uh, I would."

It's weird, talking about his powers to someone who isn't Sam or Tucker- or, or Jazz. Even weirder for it to be an adult. A living one, that is. And one that would just— just listen. Just like that. And ask questions with no judgement, none that Danny could pick up on anyways.

He starts drawing abstract shapes into Bruce's back with his finger, trying to think. "It was- it was so weird, and so cool. Have you ever— have you ever had one of those hyper-realistic dreams as a kid, where everything felt real? It was like that." He continues, and the tension bleeds out of him, and the grief, and the hurt, "I could go as— as high as I wanted, and since I didn't need to breathe, I didn't need to worry about choking."

Bruce keeps quiet, and it's a bit of a relief, Danny's gaining steam. "I wanted to touch the stars," he tells him, staring unfocused, "and I had this revelation one day, uh- I think the summer after my accident, that I could now. I didn't have to wait anymore. I could probably fly up and up and up, and I'd be in space." It'd been a ground-shaking revelation to him, and it'd shaken and then shattered his foundation of rules and what he could and couldn't do.

He focuses back in on the feeling of tracing the edges of Bruce's ribs, and Bruce does the same to his spine. "I- I uh, didn't. Of course. Going up- was— well— I, I'd never been that high before. I tried to, once, just to see if I could. And then I looked down, and Amity was a bunch of specks below my feet. Like an ant colony. Or a bunch pebbles." It had been amazing, and horrifying. He could see it from one end to the other, and he only knew where home was by the OPS Center on the top, sitting like a satellite.

Danny swallows the spit gathering at the corners of his mouth, "It was terrifying," he says, "I thought that if I kept going up, I'd lose Amity and never be able to find it again. I knew Earth was always rotating, I got scared that if I went up, when I went down Amity wouldn't be where I left it." He trembled the entire flight down to the ground. It'd felt like some sort of epiphany to him, or a kind of enlightenment. His mind had pushed past the borders of what it thought to be foundational, and now a bubble had popped. And he didn't like it.

"I went back down, and told myself I'd try again when I was older." And the world was less scary.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Bachira Meguru assuming he's unlovable.

Being called a monster for their whole childhood really makes a mark on a person's life and self-esteem. But for Bachira, it was unavoidable.

At first, he tried to ignore the mean comments and pretend he didn't hear them. Maybe that would make the loneliness go away. Maybe it would make the problems disappear.

"He's a freak!"

"Eww, don't get too close to Bachira! You'll get lice!!"

"He's stinky"

He heard the whispers. He just used to pretend he didn't. For both his and the children's sake. So he could pretend he was normal. At least for a while.

And, sometimes, even parents, grown-ass adults, called him weird. Shouldn't they set an example for their kids? They tell them: "Don't judge other people! You never know what they're going through!", but are always the first to talk shit about someone, even if said someone is a little kid.

"Poor kid. It's probably the parents' fault."

"He says he sees a 'monster'! He's probably schizophrenic."

"My son is afraid of him. Specially when he's playing soccer. He said he's very scary"

He tried to ignore them. He really did. He tried to smile through it all and treat people the same way he always had nevertheless: with respect. Because crying would make his problems real. He didn't want them to be real. And he was doing a good job at it! But one faithful day, he snapped. The final nail in the coffin.

"When I grow up, I want to be a football player, just like Zico!" 11 year old Bachira said, showing the whole class a drawing of him, Zico and his monster playing soccer together. His smile was as bright and blinding as ever, specially because he was talking about his passion: soccer. He loved it so much. It helped him escape the harsh reality for a while.

The class went silent. They used to think Bachira was weird, to put it slightly, but this? It just made him even more weird! They all knew that he could never be a football player. He was an outcast. A freak. He was a monster. And monsters couldn't live with humans. Nobody wanted a monster on their team.

And so, instead of clapping like they did with the other kids' drawings, the class started to laugh. It started out quiet, but later it turned into a full, loud laugh. All of them. And Bachira always dreamed of making everyone there laugh, but not like this. They weren't laughing with him or because of him, they were laughing at him.

"Uh? What's happening, miss?" He asked the teacher, confused and on the verge of crying. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of them, please. That would be another thing for them to laugh at.

He swears on his life that he heard the teacher laugh a little, before the adult crouched down to match his size, grabbed his drawing and put it on his desk, while the other kids' drawings were being stuck to the board with tape. And then, he heard one of the worst sentences he ever heard in his life. One that he knew would definitely keep him awake at night:

"Meguru, being a football player is too hard for you. Why don't you settle for something more real and reachable? Like a doctor or a lawyer?"

He didn't understand. Some kids here wanted to be astronauts, others wanted to be models. Hell, one wanted to be a dinosaur babysitter. And their drawings were hanging on the wall, like they were going to be achieved. Bachira felt like no one believed in him. Like he was being put aside.

He then realized the problem wasn't what he wanted to do. It was him. Anyone could be a football player, but he couldn't. Because he was a monster. He was different from others.

And so, the tears began to fall. One by one, first from his left away and then from his right eye. His vision began to blurry. Left eye, right eye. Left, right, left right. Kids laughing, teacher laughing. His drawing on the desk. Left, right. Left right. He couldn't even see his own hands anymore from how blurred his vision was. He looked to his side. Left, right. The door. His escape. He needed to leave.

So, without second thought, Bachira ran towards the door. He couldn't care less for the teacher calling his name. He wouldn't come looking for him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody cared enough to do it.

He sat behind a tree, protected by it's shadow. He continued to cry. Hard. He put his hands in his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling, but he couldn't. He needed to let it all out. He just wished he had someone by his side during his breakdown. He really wanted a shoulder to rely on.

"Hey"

Maybe he was, indeed, schizophrenic. Because, the moment he looked up, he saw a girl he swore was too pretty to be real. The sunset made her have an angelic glow, and the wind made her hair flow just the right way. Her face was like a greek statuate, and he swore he could hear a soothing symphony playing in the background when he met her eyes: they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, and he could imagine himself being lost and found in them. She was just too pretty. Too pretty to be here for him. And so, he managed to stop crying for a while and said, between sniffs:

"Did you lose a bet?"

The way your face contorted was almost comic.

"What?"

"Did someone pay you to come here? Where are the cameras? And how much was it?"

"I didn't lose any bet" you said, frowning. "I came here to check on you because I wanted to. I don't get why everyone laughed at you. Your dream is not stupid. Nobody's dream is."

"Even Richard's? He said he wants to be a dinossaur nanny" he said before he even thought about it. He then widened his eyes, because what if you were Richard's friend? What if you hated him now because he said something bad about your friend? What if he already screwed everything up? What if...

"Okay, you win. That one's actually stupid." You laughed. He made you laugh. This time, someone was laughing because of him. He felt like he was capable of everything at that moment. Your laugh was a sweet, infecting, honey-like melody. It made him wanna laugh too. He didn't realize it, but he had already stopped crying, and was now just staring at you with big, blown and unwavering eyes. His mouth slightly parted, like he was studying you and comitting everything about you to memory. Almost as if you were indeed an ilusion, and would disappear the second he blinked. He couldn't believe you were real. You were real, and you were talking to him.

After a while, you stopped laughing and finally noticed his intense staring. Suddenly bashful, your cheeks turned a bright red.

"I-I just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your dream. I think- no, I'm sure you can achieve it. You just have to work hard for it. I-I've seen you playing sometimes, and it's honestly amazing how focused you are. Bachira, I want to be your friend. That's it, if you'll let me-"

He hugged you. Hard. If it was any other time, he would have been afraid of scaring you off with the sudden hug, but he couldn't care less right now. He needed this. He needed a friend. You were just what he needed. You were perfect.

He started to cry again. This time, the first tear came out of his right eye. Right, left. His vision was getting blurred from how hard he was smiling. Right, left. Right, left. Your arms hugging him back. Right, left. The sound of the school bell, signalizing the end of the school day. People would see you and him hugging and you would probably be called weird by them for being next to him, but you still didn't break the hug. Right, left.

He didn't want to escape like he did during the class incident. No. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted time to stop, to be in your arms for eternity. He didn't want to pull away. He finally made a friend. You were his first friend.

Bachira Meguru used to think he was unlovable, but you proved him wrong. You proved he could, in fact, be loved. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a freak. He was Bachira Meguru. Your best friend. And he wore that title with pride. Later on, he had the honour to be called your boyfriend, and he was even prouder of that one.

He used to think he would never find happiness. That's why, the moment the ref blew the whistle signalizing the end of Japan U-20 against Blue Lock eleven match and securing Blue Lock's victory, he couldn't think of anything else besides his girl. He ran across the field to you. Because you were like a magnet. He couldn't be apart from you, or else it felt like the whole earth would explode. He was yours and you were his. You both were meant to be.

"You did it! I love you, Meguru!"

He laughed. A pretty, genuine laugh followed by a couple of tears, beginning from his right eye, of course. His mother was recording behind you both, the blue lock team was smirking and whistling at the sight of you two and the television was streaming the moment for the whole world to see. But neither of you cared about the extra eyes. You were the only ones on the world. You always made him feel like that, and he hopes he makes you feel that way, too.

"I love you so much. Thank you."

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for accepting the title of being my girlfriend proudly. Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

He then lifted you and spun you in the air, smiling hard. He brought your lips closer and then kissed you. A kiss full of emotion and love. So much love: raw and pure.

You proved he wasn't just lovable. He was also capable of loving. And there's nothing prettier than loving someone.

Bachira Meguru was lovable, and you made sure to show him that. You loved him, and he would do everything to keep it that way forever.

~A/N: there's a "saying" that says that if you're crying and the first tear is from the left eye, you're crying from sadness. If the first tear comes out of the right eye, they're happy tears!!

Masterlist

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Alliances are built while minds crumble. An unexpected guest appears. The end draws near.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [17] [19] [Chapter Index]

18 * Mirage [11.5k]

"Got a job got money got a place to be, Run though the desert trying to find me, me, me."

White on white - FIDLAR

        Markus was used to making split second decisions. He could rush to hide you, but then Mohawk, who had the same speedy perception as him, would see. Get pissed, know he was trying to hide you. Or he could let Mohawk see you, risk letting the unpredictable freak inside the building where you'd clearly just got done fucking Tracksuit. Both seemed like bad ideas. 

        Markus turned but didn't move from the doorway. Body blocking your frame.

        "Hey." Mohawk didn't seem to notice how strange Markus's positioning is. His dark eyes were wild and unfocused. He'd gone weeks without water, surviving off blood which only shriveled his brain. "You hear any of that," he pointed to the dull colored sky, "up there."

        Markus's eyes flicked to Gray who was also weighing the options of quickly hiding you versus hoping Mohawk just didn't spot you.

        "No." He'd been too busy scolding you and Tracksuit. Both standing behind him now. Listening. Wild cards he couldn't control. You weren't sure what you wanted to do, what this was about. They told you Mohawk had been in contact with them, but unreliable, unpredictable and insistent on staying alone. 

        Mohawk huffed out his nose. "Where's the others? Don't wanna relay this shit a billion times."

        Tracksuit didn't look at you as he put his mask back on, moving out the other busted window, lounging on it to block his view of you. "Right here, guy."

        "What about the gay one?"

        "I can hear you." Maskless floated over from the tent. Relieved to hear something that wasn't moaning or bickering.

        Mohawk nodded to himself, "Okay, okay, good, awesome, yeah." He didn't notice how weird it was three of the Marks blocked his view into the building. Too distracted by his pounding headache, the heat, and the gnawing fear. "We gotta move or like form defensive maneuvers or something or-" He swayed on his feet, holding his aching head a moment before continuing, "Assholes gonna come for you. Kill ya, take one of ya hostage and replace that pussy loser." His head lolled against his shoulder, hair drooping sad against his head. Suit ripped, exposing his arms just past the shoulders, shoving off slivers of his thighs. So tired. So worn. He just wanted to lay down and rest but there was never anywhere cool, safe, with water or with the thing he craved the most- you.

        You knew who the 'assholes' were, you needed to know about the other, your stomach twisting as you spoke without thinking, "Pussy loser?"

        Mohawk snapped upright. Unsure what he'd just heard. He'd been hearing a lot of things in the quiet desert lately. Mainly your voice or his fathers whispering over his shoulder or in his blank dreams. 

        Sand shifted softly inside the building. The Marks in the windows tensed but stayed silent. Hoping you'd just stay inside, let Mohawk believe it was a heat mirage, but you needed to know. You pushed at Seb's back, "Move." He did. Unsure if that was the best idea but feeling like he owed you some pliancy. 

        Mohawk had to be hallucinating. There was no way a human like you could still be alive out here. But there you were despite him rubbing his eyes. The sun reflected gold on your sweat-slicked skin, shoulders unburdened with stress in the sweet afterglow of sex. He didn't feel himself step forward, couldn't stop his arms from reaching out for your skin to make sure it was real, you were real. "(Y/n)?"

        Gray floated into his path, "You can speak to her after we've-" Mohawk grabbed him by the arm and flung him away with shocking force. He rushed forward, half-expecting his arms to go straight through you but his hug lands home, wrapping around your body. He nuzzled his stubbly jaw into your (hair/scalp) inhaling deep. You smelled terrible but unmistakably like yourself. You groaned in his grip, ribs on the verge of bruising. He chuckled an apology, holding back tears as he looked into your face. Thumbs coming to your cheeks, poking and stretching, making double sure.

        Squished lips part, "You can quit it now." You grunted, not knowing how much your voice was a melody to him.

        He didn't think about the others, the repercussions, he just kissed you. Pressing his lips hurriedly to your forehead, your cheeks and finally your mouth. Teeth meeting your forcibly puckered lips. Worming his tongue past your surprised defenses, tasting you, tasting meat, tasting...

        Markus tore him off, "You're hurting her." 

        You stumbled back against the concrete building. Mohawk's eyes wide, set on you, not even acknowledging Markus' hand on his shoulder. "Who the fuck was that?"

        You violently rubbed at your mouth now infected with the taste of stale blood, "What?" 

        All preconceived notions were out the window. He wasn't thinking right. Relieved. Scared. Pissed. Dehydrated. "Who the fuck were you just kissing?" 

        Behind Mohawk, Markus fixed you with a look. One that made you want to rebel against daddy but you knew he knew better. Don't tell him. Don't rub anything in his face right now. He's dangerous.

        You'd play along. Bitch out Markus later. "I'm not your girlfriend, dude. I'm not gonna taste the same."

        "If you look and sound the same, you're not gonna taste different. Who?" His gaze slid to Seb. "Was it you?" His hiss was venomous, completely murderous. 

         Seb held up his hands, "Haven't seen you in forever but I still believe in bro code, man."

        Mohawk nodded to himself like it wasn't the most obvious lie ever. He turned to Markus.

        "Must've been you." Partly true but he didn't need to know that. "Did you make her call you Daddy or something? Huh? You sick f-"

        Gray was a flash. "Enough." Suddenly they were both yards away. He had him on the ground before you could even process, Gray's boot pressed to Mohawk's neck. "This is unimportant to the issue at hand. Where are they now? Are we in immediate danger?"

        "I don't have a fuckin' GPS on them you," Mohawk grabbed him by the ankle, tried shoving him off with an, "idiot." This time Gray was expecting the attack, budged but not far, foot pinning him back into the sand. Mohawk choked, sinking into the soft ground. "I'm not the one you should be worried about. Like I told you, they're coming to-" Mohawk shifted, tried to dislodge Gray with a kick to the side but Gray was unmoved, sustained by food and water where Mohawk was not. "-kill you!"

        Gray didn't let up. For one, it was a good idea to keep crazy in check. For two, Mohawk had forced himself on you so openly, then had to audacity to be angrier than he was at the situation. What a silly, stupid man he was. Gray could not wait to be rid of him.

        "Let him up." 

        Gray's foot didn't release. Your control bounced off him like a rubber bullet. You tried, "Please?" Not expecting it to work.

        He barely lifted his foot, lost his focus to look at you, but it was enough for Mohawk to slip away on his back. Huffing and shaking off sand as he hovered above the ground.

        Mohawk eyed him darkly, "Was it you?"

        A nasty human part of him was tempted to tell Mohawk you'd sucked his dick, to upset him. The Viltrumite half of him overruled- but only barely. "As I said it's inconsequential."

        That seemed good enough for Mohawk. So dazed he couldn't detect double-speak. He made no move to choke you out in another hug so Gray made no move to pin him down. Annoyed as he was that you didn't want Mohawk on the ground where Gray felt he belonged. 

        You pointed at Mohawk, "By pussy bitch you mean Phantom, right?" Mohawk nodded stupidly, just happy to hear your voice now, to have your attention. "He's alive?" Another nod.

        "Those shitheads have been eatin' 'im alive." Mohawk doesn't tell you he's been eating him too. Though you already had a pretty good idea of the situation based on the taste lingering on your tongue.

        Markus can see the idea before it's even a twinkle in your eye. "Don't make him take you on a suicide mission. He's weak. You'll both die."

        "I'm not weak." Mohawk snarled as if he wasn't about to wilt in the sun.

        "Then we all go!" You snapped. "There's two of them, six of us! They have no chance."

        The truth of that rolled through the group like the hot wind on the dunes. It wouldn't be a hard fight. It'd be over fast. There'd be at least two bodies worth of Mark jerky to eat. Except none of them trusted each other and they all knew it. Had felt it when you were gone, there was nothing holding them together without you. There was no guarantee everyone would survive the fight, especially you in your fragile human body. A worse alternative, if you didn't go, somebody could be on the verge of death and cry out, 'Stop, I'll tell you where (Y/n) is if you don't kill me!' No Mark Grayson took defeat gracefully. 

        They had no synergy in battle, hadn't trained since landing here. When the fight was done, one of them could be hurt, easy to kill, and the others just might converge in for extra meat and another Mark off the competition roster. Markus and Seb shouldn't exactly be on a battlefield together at the moment.

        None of them say it. All of them hope the others aren't thinking it, but they are. Nobody trusts the others enough. Cocky in their strength but worried the others would dog pile when they were down.

        "I have a better plan." Gray said. 

        Mohawk watched the sky, eyes erratic. "Can we maybe talk about it somewhere less out in the open, shithead?"

        ***

        The cave was lit by a sunbeam, traveling miles upon miles down, a reminder you weren't trapped anymore. You stood on the spotlight's edge, it was far as you'd go into the cave. They needed to relocate, had to gather supplies for a journey, it was the only good option for the moment, and Gray insisted on going to collect food. You thought he meant any lingering bugs, maybe the fungal garden he'd talked about digging up. But you were mostly dwelling on the fact you felt no sense of closure being here again. When they said you had to come with them, you didn't fight. Wanted to see this place one last time and say goodbye to it on your terms. 

        Most of the cave had filled with sand, the Queen's pool was polluted with the stuff. Mohawk dove into the water without a second thought, drinking until he almost threw it all up, but all you could think about was Mark kissing you in the clear water, the sound of chittering bugs surrounding you. You could no longer hear them, the Queen's body and the thousands of dead decomposing eggs filled the cavern with the scent of rot. The Marks moved efficiently around you like the bugs used to. Somehow with your kingdom crumbled, you still rule. 

        Seb fashioned pieces of the Queen's shell into vases to hold as much water as possible. Maskless stayed above ground, keeping constant vigilant guard for the alleged incoming threat. Markus stood behind you, offering, "I can take you up if it's too much."

        Your eyes scanned the sand for Mark's body but found nothing. Maskless had told you he was buried. Good, he deserved that much. But you still felt sick seeing the cave and not him. Not knowing what he did to himself, what you did to him.

        "I'm still pissed at you." You said. He didn't argue because he didn't agree with your frustration, wasn't sorry for getting upset. You did something stupid, childish and now you were trying to act like you hadn't made a mistake. Like you weren't shaking, feeling the heavy guilt deep in your gut for fucking Seb then coming back to Mark's grave. It'd do your marriage no good to rub your nose in it, so Markus let you feel what he'd been trying to protect you from. 

        He knew you were crying though your back was to him. Could tell by the set of your shoulders and stuttered breaths. He watched you while you stared at the sand pile, trying not to dive into it. Neither of you watching the other two in the smoke filled hamster hut. 

        Gray didn't apologize for attacking and Mohawk didn't attack. The truce was glass-brittle, but they worked together silently. Gray was using the sheet of your worn cot as a sack to store the smoked meats inside while Mohawk tore off pieces of a Mark ribeye with his teeth. Occasionally moving a piece into the sack for Gray.

        He'd relay the plan to the others later but for now he wanted to hammer home it's importance with Mohawk, who was clearly a loose cannon.

        He spoke as he pulled long stripes of dried thigh off the makeshift wrack. "You must understand why we don't want her around them."

        "I'm not stupid," Mohawk said with a mouthful of meat. 

       Gray didn't agree, but kept talking. "(Y/n) thinks she wants to fight, but what she really wants is Phantom dead."

        Mohawk remembered the fight. The suspicion of Phantom. The confirmation of Scars and Lensless questioning him everyday and you not being with them, dead or alive. He knew the freak was involved but not the extent. The memory made him angry nonetheless, "Knew I should've killed that emo fuck."

        Gray shook his head. Mohawk had reported his condition while you all flew over. You seemed partly enthused, partly annoyed by the news. Wished you could've done it yourself.

        Gray said, "It'd be best for us to remove Phantom from the equation quietly, but (Y/n) wouldn't like that. She's smart for a human, she'd find a way to make us confess." He knew most of the others wouldn't be able to withstand your mental control- those who could would fall prey to your more manipulative tactics. He wasn't sure he could hide anything if you touched him again. "We have to bring him to us, let her kill him herself. That way, she won't have any reason to walk into immediate danger and those two will wear themselves down without food or entertainment."

        Mohawk quirked a brow, mind returning to him more with every chew and swallow. "We can't trust him you know."

        "We won't keep him alive long. Just enough for him to tell us more about the others condition and talk to (Y/n). I'm eighty percent sure she will want answers for what transpired here." Gray tested lifting the sack. Heavy and straining, but it could take a few more pounds. 

        "What'd he do?" 

        "(Y/n) hasn't fully divulged." As if Gray would tell him if he knew. 

        Mohawk grunted into another bite. "And what if I wanna kill those assholes myself?"

        Gray leveled him with a stare. Eyes near black unlike Mohawk's chocolaty rich hue. "They'll kill each other for us, they're unstable as is. No risk on our part." Mohawk opened his mouth to argue, but Gray doubled down, "You want to live to be with (Y/n), correct?" His mouth shut. Gray didn't like the idea of keeping Mohawk around, but knew there was strength in numbers. Despite how things hashed out when you went missing, he wouldn't let it happen again. "Then we are agreed."

       ***

       Seb dragged the impromptu pots over. One in each hand. Huge and sloshing.

        "There's some left," Seb reported, "But I don't wanna risk spilling so we can come back for the rest later."

         Markus nodded but made no move to help. He thought Seb would do well to struggle and think about what he'd done, and more importantly Markus was planning to carry you to safety, across the new threshold wherever they decided to hunker down. He looked to the sky above the cave, found Maskless floating still. No signs of danger yet but still the others should, "Hurry up."

        Just then Mohawk and Gray exited the hamster hut. A rugged sack slung over Gray's shoulder, hanging heavy with smoked meat. The smell penetrated through the rot and punched you in the gut. You knew all at once what was in that bag. You wanted to hurt Gray for holding it. Wanted to force them all to tell you who'd done the processing, but all of them had probably helped- all of them kept this from you. Except for one.

        There was no time to lash out. Not with the impending threat.

        You turned to Mohawk, trailing behind Gray, gait much steadier than it'd been before but nowhere as healthy as his companion. "Wherever we're going, you're flying me." You didn't need powers to make him do it. 

        A wry smile slid across his cracked lips. "Was jus' gon ask, baby." He trotted to your side, took you into his arms like you belonged there. He was much gentler this time, even asked, "This good?" You nodded and he beamed. Tired, sunburned, feeling butterflies. 

        "(Y/n)-" Markus started.

        "Don't talk to me." 

        ***

        The rock was cool. Retaining the heat from the day but not baking you alive. Gray spotted the slab of stone after an hour of flying low and slow. After scouting the area and deeming it Lensless and Scars free, construction began. Construction being Gray spinning like a drill and hollowing the thing out. Only leaving a narrow hidden hole at the bottom to get in and out of. You refused to go inside until there were more exits. Tiny punched holes in the roof for slits of light so you could remember- you weren't back in the cave.

        He obliged with curt nods. Never once talking to you. Not under control but respecting your wishes. You'd need time to process and he was okay with that. He was just happy you hadn't yelled at him like you had Markus on the flight over. While he worked, the others gathered scraps from the wastes. Always with an eye on the sky. Wondering if they were going to spot Scars and Lensless. Wondering if the momentary peace was going to shatter. You stayed outside while the work was done, trying to make yourself a bed. 

        "Piece of shit." You hissed as the garbage disintegrated in your hands. You'd been trying to make a place to sleep for the past half-hour with what little you had to zero success. Just a birds nest of useless crap.

        As it turned out, Mohawk was right. Scars and Lensless were on the prowl. When Maskless and Seb went back to the camp to grab supplies after convincing Gray they'd be careful. They got dangerously close to camp before spotting Scars' torn cape. They hid behind a dune, watching, calculating if this was a fight they could win, two on two. Seb thought yes, Maskless thought no. When Seb shifted to fight, Maskless held him back shaking his head. 

        They watched as the duo raided camp. Tore the tent apart. Turned the concrete ruins into rubble, calling out, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

        They didn't move. Waited until they got bored and left, heading in the opposite direction of the new camp to their relief. They took what they could from camp, but it wasn't much. The cots were shredded and Lensless stole Seb's beloved hammock for himself. Asshole.

        They returned in a sweaty panic. Explaining everything as Gray swept the remnants of the rock dust outside. Gray insisted scouting end for the day, that everyone come inside at once. Nobody argued. Even you, whose body prickled from being in an enclosed space again. So soon after returning to that cave and the memories it brought back. You had to remind yourself over and over of the hidden exits. The light filtering through the roof in tiny dots. 

        The boys talked shop. The threat level, how safe it was here, how they were going to parse out food, when and if they should attack first. On the other hand, you stayed alone in a corner. Given up on the cot. Idly sticking a sharp piece of metal through scraps of cloth to make... you don't even know. You just needed something to do with your hands.

        Night fell. The first in this new palace of stone. You pushed off Markus's quiet offer of cuddling. Refused Gray's offer of a patchwork blanket he'd made in a matter of minutes. You curled alone by the fire, shoved into the corner away from the exits. Ceiling holes patched for the night with cloth so no fire light escaped. The floor was freezing even so close to the fire. Nothing was comfortable. The smoke smell reminds you of Mark's meat sat across the base, hidden behind a stack of rocks. As if you not seeing it would hide the truth of what they'd done.

        Bugs crawled between your fingers. The last handful alive had found you hours after leaving the queen's chamber. Came chattering along, carapaces milky with age. They'd all die soon. You could go back to the cave, pick through the rubble and eat the dead, but you were sure they were decomposed by now. There was only one option left and you knew it. Hated it, but had trouble admitting to yourself- it was probably the right move. Still, you turned around when Gray looked at you. Ignored Markus when he tried to talk to you. Shoved off Seb's jokes. Maskless didn't acknowledge you and for that, you were thankful. He had always been the most understanding when it came to your time in the cave. 

        "Wanna share body heat?" Mohawk stood over you, watching you shiver.

        The last time you saw him, he rifled through your phone and pissed you off so bad Mark thought it'd be a great idea to take you into the caves he killed himself in. You fixed him with a glare. "We're not friends."

        He bit back the urge to say, 'We're more.' He was worn, but not emotionally stunted.

        He sat heavily by your feet, voice soft, "Heard you went through hell."

        "I don't want to talk to you." Ouch but at least you were speaking to him. At least you hated those other guys right now, not him. 

        He laid himself behind you. All too aware of the others watching him. "Don't gotta talk to be warm." He held his arm over your waist, waiting for approval to bring it down.

        "I have the fire." You grunted.

        That wasn't a no. His arm draped over your waist, pulled your back flush to his warm front. The floor was still freezing but Mohawk was like a furnace. You didn't relax into him but you let it happen, took the comfort you desperately needed. Markus's discomfort, palpable from across the room, was a plus. 

        ***

        You counted the days as they passed. One, two, seven, nine. The first few were wrought with tension. Everyone but Mohawk, who had no idea, was pissed at Seb. You both were annoyed by Markus though you didn't share this with Seb. He'd kept the jerky from you too so right now you weren't feeling very buddy-buddy.

        You ate the last of the bugs as they died of old ages skittering in your palms. There'd been a few close calls where Scars and Lensless flew overhead. The worst happened one morning when they landed on the bases roof. Everyone went still. Prayed to God they wouldn't hear the surge of heartbeats through the rock and fabric covered holes.

        They only touched down a second. Lensless heaving and telling Scars to, "Slow down."        

        "No." Scars snapped. "This is survival, we can't just slow down."

        "We should still conserve energy." Lensless huffed. "Dunno when we'll run into those weaselly assholes."

        Scars made a noncommittal noise before his boots left the roof. "Come on."

        Lensless sighed. Debris rained as they took off.       

         Nobody moved for minutes until Mohawk snapped, "Are we all just a bunch'a pussies? They were right there!"

        "Keep your voice down," Maskless said.

        "You didn't make a move either." Markus said.

        Mohawk reeled on him, "Because I know you pussies wouldn't back me up." 

        None of them object. You do, "I would. We can still go." 

        Mohawk was a strange case. He was obnoxious, always ready to bite someone's head off, but he didn't turn your boyfriend into jerky. He backed you up on arguments with Markus he had nothing to do with. He kept you warm at night. He told Gray to stop fucking you with his eyes so much. 

        You weren't quite friends like you and Seb were, even closer post-fuck with lots of time to talk about nothing (when you momentarily forgot you were mad at him and got lonely) but you didn't exactly hate Mohawk either. You wouldn't die for him, but you were more than okay with the idea of helping him kill those fuckers. 

        "No, you're not," Markus said like he was judge, jury, and executioner. Intent on protecting you though you'd been snappish and cold toward him for days.

        "You can't stop me." You said knowing he could. Knowing despite your fully healed leg you couldn't control Markus. You thought you had in Japan when you first met but you saw it now- he was just placating his wife. You added, "I can make the others stop you from keeping me here."

        His eyes darkened. "You can barley control those two at the same time." 

        Seb barked out a, "Hey!"

        Maskless rolled his eyes. Hating that he was your personal training dummy. "We're not having this conversation again. Nobody's letting (Y/n) leave because you idiots won't admit she's a valuable asset who could make sure those freaks don't move while we lop their heads off. This wouldn't be a hard decision if you weren't all selfish assholes."

        Mohawk narrowed his eyes on Maskless. "Why do you care all of a sudden?" Nobody had fessed up to whose spit was on your breath days ago. For all Mohawk knew, Maskless switched teams. 

        Maskless looked exasperated. "I don't. I just know if I was alone in the desert, you would've killed me already. The only reason you haven't is because I'm the one who found her." It was a truth they'd all been dancing around. Maskless wasn't part of the wider universal play involving you, he'd fallen to the wayside. No one but Seb would care if he died. Once the jerky dried up, he was next.

        "Why would we do that?" Markus snapped though they all knew why. A Mark alone was a sitting duck waiting to be eaten by the duo. The only reason Mohawk hadn't been was he was fast. Avoidant. 

        You vaguely recalled Maskless pulling you out of the cave. The hours after him splinting your leg. You should've said it days ago, "Thanks for that by the way, even if you just did it to keep yourself alive."

        He rolled his eyes but said nothing. He felt a bit guilty about you knowing, but it was the truth. 

        Markus didn't like where this was going. "She's not a survival totem."

        Maskless threw up his arms, "She literally is! The only reason we have food and water is because of her." The bugs and the Mark meat. "Those two want her, she could be bait and we could sneak up on them or something. Anything's better than just sitting here doing nothing."

        Mohawk bobbed his head along. "Gay one's got a point."

        Maskless's lips thinned. Gray's expression gave no tells. "It's too dangerous to use her at bait." A few weeks ago he'd think differently but now all he saw when he looked at you was pleasure unclaimed. Too rare to give up.

        Maskless didn't care. He just needed the quiet part they'd all been avoiding to be said, "She already is bait to you people. The only reason you assholes haven't killed each other yet is you don't want to die in the fight and not be the last guy standing who gets to fuck her till you both die." He turned to you, "I'm sure you're great and all but this macho bullshit is insane. Can't we just take care of the problem now so it's not one later?"

        "No." Markus wasn't listening to the greater point, just digging in his heels like he always did.

        This could go on forever. You stood, "I'm going to bed."

        You went to warmest corner you could and curled into a shivering ball. Peace and almost quiet, until Seb came over. Gray and Markus watched him as they bickered on. 

        "You look like you need this more than me." He said as you uncurled.         

        You cringed at the fabric. It used to be white, but it'd since gone gray with sweat and sand stains. His tank top, the only thing worthwhile him and Maskless recovered from camp. He hadn't worn it for a long while. The sight of it made you remember it's absence during your encounter. His bare chest. A dull heat lit in your stomach.

        "Didn't think we were at the sharing clothes stage." You mumbled as you took it, slipped it over your head and let it come around you like a terrible smelling blanket. 

        He huffed out his nose, flopping down beside you. Mask pushed back into his hair. He'd worn it a lot less since then too. Only worn under the sun to protect his face going tomato red and peely. The others saw his face, so what was the point in hiding what they all knew was there anyway? 

        He gave you a look like you didn't make him cum twice. "Seriously?"

        You shrugged, his shirt pressing in, thin and barely retaining your heat. "Never did that with any of mine." You keep the words vague, watching Mohawk's back. Thinking of the first Mark who broke your heart. Accidentally wearing his sweaty socks the morning after, his boxers too loose under your pants. You hadn't done that with anyone else. 

        "I mean, me neither but-" He paused when Markus turned to him a mildly murderous look. "Yeesh." Seb threw out his voice for the whole room to hear, "Don't mind us being normal and well adjusted over here."

        Heads turn, faces are made. It's Maskless who speaks, "Cool, yeah, just step outside the conversation about our survival, guys."

        Seb rose a middle finger with a lazy smile. Maskless chuffed but said nothing else. Turning back to the others to bitch them out. "See that?" Seb said.

        "What?"

        "Asshole didn't attack me cuz we're cool." They had to be, trapped in the desert alone together for to weeks. Maskless knew Seb cared, knew Seb was just as stressed and was better than him- able to step away for a breather. "We're like, totally buddies now."

        "No, we're not." Maskless said mid-argument with Markus before getting right back to it.

        "He doesn't mean that." Seb whispered.

        "Yes I do."

        "He doesn't." 

        Maskless dropped it. Seb grinned, lighting a new feeling in your stomach, jealousy. They had a bond you didn't have with anyone. It'd been a week out in the new hideout but you'd been dismissive and avoidant of anything longer than a five minute conversation. If you wanted that, you'd have to engage. Come out of the mental cave Mark trapped you in. You were going to die out here, you'd accepted that in the cave. Why not make more friends? Why not try to be happy? You had nothing but time with them, no rent, no quota to reach for Machine Head, you were more free than you had ever been. It wasn't like you'd had to try very hard for them to care about you and plus, if they did care about you- they just might take you to Phantom. With him gone you could put Mark to rest.

        You closed your eyes and focused on the crackling fire.

        The argument went in hotel-revolving-door circles while you slept. 

        That daddy-loving freak never gave. He said you should always be protected, always be safe, but how could you be with the assholes prowling the desert?  Mohawk argued until he couldn't hold it in, he needed to hit something but daddy-wannabe dearest would whine about the attention it'd draw. So he left, flying into the atmosphere hoping the thinning air would help him think.

        Of course he didn't want those freaks to kill you, but he wanted to see you murder those freaks at the same time. He wanted to see you get revenge- God the idea of you pissed and bloody got him going. But he couldn't relish the moment if he was busy holding off Scars and Lensless if only-

        He almost didn't hear the flap of fabric. Mohawk spun, fist reeled back, ready to bash Scars head in.

        Gray hovered in the black night. Arms tucked behind his back. "You watched them for a time, yes?"        

        Mohawk paused but didn't unwind. High above the camp, where no one could see or hear them fighting- perfect grounds for an ambush killing. "Yeah." 

        "Where are they usually at this time of night?"

        "Sleeping or eating parts of that other guy."

        Gray nodded. "And how long do they usually do that for?"        

        ***

       Mohawk looked over the dunes. Camp a spot in the distance. Early day sun beating on his skin. "You really think they won't hear?" 

        "They will." Gray said evenly, "They'll most likely come to investigate as well. We'll tell them if they do."

        Mohawk blinked at the other man. The two of them hovered feet over the sand. Well, three of them technically, but Phantom wasn't floating, he was laying on Mohawk's back. Seeping blood and drool into his torn suit. 

        "I thought you said we wouldnt tell any-"

        Gray didn't wait for him to finish. He dove into the rock they'd found jutting out of the ground. Impact a firework crack in the dawn. Surely picked up by everyone at camp, considering they were only a mile away. Gray was back at his side, dust and rocks already spun off his nearly pristine uniform before Mohawk could curse him out. "I said we wouldn't tell (Y/n) for some time." 

        Mohawk's nostrils flared but he lowered into the freshly dug cavern. Entrance hidden under a small rocky ledge. "So you just conveniently left out the part where everyone else finds out and is pissed at us- mostly me because your slimy ass is gonna lie and say you weren't involved."

        "Lying is not productive." Gray followed him inside. Watched as Mohawk threw Phantom down. He landed in a slumped seat, unreacting and pale. Obtaining Phantom wasn't the hard part, it was making sure Scars and Lensless were far enough away to get in and out. Gray was sure they were weak- human flesh and blood dehydrated the body, clouded the mind. But they seemed surprisingly lucid, leaving their camp lightning quick just as the sun was rising. As though eating Phantom's limbs raw had made them better. Maybe it had. They'd waited for hours, scooped Phantom up and flew fast and hard until they were sure they hadn't been seen. 

        "What's your plan then?" Mohawk appreciated Gray's attitude, but was wary. Gray's eyes seemed to glaze over him- like he'd already decided he was an afterthought just like dad had. Mohawk proved dad wrong, dead wrong. Was itching to do the same thing to Gray if need be.

        Gray lowered to his haunches, pulling a vial from his waistband. "(Y/n) wants revenge. She'll get it but-" he paused to unwrap Phantom's gauze, exposing hot, throbbing wounds, reeking with infection, "-she'll have to wait."

        Mohawk watched him work the liquid into the red stumps. "Why not just let him hurt?"

        Gray didn't stop. "He's hours from death and (Y/n) isn't ready to see him. She'll kill him on sight and live to regret not getting answers. He has to be lucid. If it makes you feel better, its a healing accelerant not a pain killer."

        Markus couldn't have come at a better time. Leaving the other two to watch (Y/n) while he investigated that sudden noise outside. He didn't need to ask any questions to know what was going on. The secret hideout, the wound-healing-accelerator on Phantom's stumps, everything he overheard. He'd thought of it too, bringing the revenge to (Y/n) but he wasn't sure- Gray was. He could admire that.

        He could feel Mohawk's apprehension, waiting for the scolding he associated with Markus.

        "How long until he's stable?" Markus asked.

        "Few days." Gray said. "A week at most, the infection is in his blood."

        Mohawk hovered by the exit. Anxious to see (Y/n), ring burning in his pocket. "Stable but not able to hurt her right?"

        "Theoretically he could still kill her in this state." Gray finished, hands bloodied. He made a note to bring rags and a small basin of water. "But he won't." 

        "You can see the future now or what?" Mohawk said.

        "I spoke with Maskless." Gray said holding back a smile. He liked the little nicknamed you'd given them all very much. They were helpful and personal and made him happy. "He claimed Phantom talked about working extensively with the human government-"

        Mohawk clicked his tongue, "Yeah, so did I, doesn't mean anything."

        "I did as well." Markus said, and knew working alongside the GDA did not mean you were a good person. 

        Gray didn't know why he was surprised by this. They just seemed so... sure of themselves, like they didn't need someone in there ear telling them what to do- like Gray had all his life.

        "Ah." He rose, moving his hands so fast the blood flung off of them and painted the walls. He could make a hideout for Phantom but never promised a good one, he didn't deserve it. "Maskless also reported his (Y/n) was killed by his father, not by him." It was said without emotion, yet Markus and Mohawk felt like they'd been hit with a bowling ball. Phantom was pathetic, desperate, but in one singular way, better than them both.

        Mohawk prowled forward, fists balled. "Don't act like you're better than me-"

        Gray watched him come, saying evenly, "I mean nothing by it. I killed her of my own volition."

        That gave Mohawk pause, "Well, I didn't." He spat, almost feeling like the bigger man. Knowing he wasn't. He could've controlled himself better. He thought part of him gutted her on purpose. Sometimes he wondered if she survived if he would've killed her anyway.

        "She is dead." Gray said matter-of-factly before nodding his head in the direction of camp, "She is not. You came for a second chance, so did he. We must trust he won't ruin it." He moved around Mohawk and flew quietly back to camp. 

        ***

        Lensless's back hit the wall, which shattered around them. They struggled against one another until they fell heavy down into the sand. Scars atop him, hands fisted in his collar. "Where is he!?"

        Lensless who had just gotten home from a day of fruitless scouting, blinked up stupidly at Scars- before the fist came cracking up under his chin.

        He was reeling but laughed as he said, "What are you talking about, dude?"

        Thinking this was some game, some kind of roleplay scenario Scars made to fight. Fine by Lensless. He hadn't been able to properly flex his muscles in weeks. He missed fighting, missed killing more.

        "He's gone!" Scars lunged. 

        Lensless narrowly dodged, feeling a gust of wind slap across his face. "No way. He has one leg and can't talk. There's no way he got away."

        Scars pivoted midair. "That's what I thought until I realized- the only person would could've taken him was you." He was coming again. Faster than Lensless could dodge. Fist pushing up into his solar plexus, sending him shooting into the air, blood spewing from his dry lips.

        "I didn't!" Lensless whined as he put on the brakes. Launching himself toward Scars rather than waiting. 

        "You knew we'd run out of him eventually. You hid him from me to have all the meat to yourself!"

        They met. Fist to hand, holding each other off with straining muscles and scowls. "Is it so hard to believe someone could've rescued him?" Lensless half-snarled, half-grinned.

        "We haven't seen anyone else in weeks!" Scars knee came up and kissed Lensless's crotch. He doubled over, opening his back for Scars elbow to come down. 

        Lensless landed in the hot uncaring sand. A cloud formed around him, sucking particles into his lungs with every breath. Scars landed hard, one foot on Lensless's chest ready to push down, break it open, pierce his heart on a rib. Lensless grabbed his ankle bruisingly hard, bearing teeth as he said, "We haven't seen bones either, bro." 

        ***

        Mohawk's hair brushed against the cave roof. "Come on, babe, you gotta try harder than that if you want it back." 

        You had been trying for the better part of five minutes to get him to come down. At first you were able to make him float down, nearly land, but soon as your single stolen boot was in reach, the control would wane and he'd snap back to the ceiling. Taunting you again. 

        Day fourteen with these assholes in the new base. Things weren't bad. You'd been trying to loosen up which was hard when you'd been so tightly wound these last few years. Not holding grudges was something you were unaccustomed to. Often you had to look to Seb for inspiration on how to be easy going. Conversation flowed from him in spigots despite how angry everyone was at him two weeks ago. He didn't seem to care, always sharing a story that related to something. Always funny or fucked up but relatable, endearing. 

        Markus made a point to never laugh at his jokes, but you swore you saw him half smile whenever you did. He hovered around you an annoying amount. After a few days you stopped batting him away as hard. You hadn't forgiven him, but it was better to not stay bitter- a habit that was difficult to grow out of. He never held anything against you, even when you were shitty. It made the idea of talking to him, messing with him a little more appealing- fun. Your affections cast like bait he always bit at and the more time went on, the more you liked the bite. Markus liked to act tough, but when you talked to him, were sweeter on him than you had been in weeks, he melted like wax. Relaxed those broad shoulders and chiding tone. 

        Then there was Gray. With stories of his own that were mildly terrifying with how dystopian they were. He hovered, nowhere nearly often as Markus, always off somewhere doing something for hours on end. You thought he was scavenging so you never thought to ask. He helped you build beds and a terrible storage bin that collapsed in on itself every two days, but you always came together to rebuild it. Hoping it'd hold but it never did. You swore Gray sabotaged it on purpose.

        Maskless watched the romcom bullshit from the sidelines. Most often found with Seb talking about nothing. Hands always busy breaking down kindling or sewing Seb a hammock or air boxing. The idea of sparring had been thrown around too many times to count but Markus always shot it down, seconded by Gray everytime. It'd attract attention. 

        Meanwhile, you trained here and there. Working with your latest, very willing test subject, Mohawk. Who you kept trying to goad into taking you to kill Phantom. He'd just smile and say, "When you don't suck," and steal something of yours in hopes you could control him into giving it back.

        At first, you could make him give it back. But after days of no food only water, your strength was starting to wane. The others had busted out the Mark meat not long ago. You always left when they did, sitting on the other end of the cave. His smell stuck inside your nose as you tried not to imagine how his flesh would melt in your mouth. The more days went by, the less you vividly you could remember him. It'd only been thirteen days after all. You spent more time with this group than him by now. And you wondered why you were still holding on. You felt silly for it. But you still hadn't eaten. It showed in how Mohawk barely moved when you said, "Get your ass down here."

        Hands on his narrow hips he hummed, "I don't think I will!"

        His cocky grin made your guts flip. It reminded you of Mark. The before Mark. The pre cave crazy Mark. It wasn't fair he was hot. Fine, two could play at that game. "I'll hold your hand."

        He cackled, "You think I'm gonna go easy on you to hold your hand?"

        "For a whole minute. Won't move away or nothin'," you waved at him, "this baby is all yours." It was a push and pull game, the flirting. Once you started you couldn't stop, finding that leaning into affection felt better than leaning away. It helped you forget. Replace the bad memories, shitty as it made you feel.

        Heels hit the ground so hard they cracked rock. Mohawk snatched your hand from the air, held one between two, staring at it like a precious diamond. You actually didn't think it'd work. Didn't think holding your hand would mean that much to anybody. Thought at least, you'd have to barter to a kiss on the cheek or something more intimate- or that he wouldn't take the deal at all. Training was a good idea but you hit a wall without eating anything. You wouldn't eat Mark. Not yet. 

        Markus didn't look up from the water he was boiling. "That's not training."

        "I think making the ruler of a powerful empire do what I say is something but you do you." 

        Mohawk batted his lashes at you, squeezing your hand between his, "You think my empire is powerful?"

        "No shit, it's an empire."

        He grinned and interlaced your fingers. Without a timer and without a care, the touch lingered longer than a minute.

        ***

        They stood in the remains. Broken down in their fight that lasted too long. Energy wasted on bickering when they should've been looking for Phantom. They sifted through the rubble, looking for dried brown trails, sniffing for blood so hard they were lightheaded. Except they'd been lightheaded for weeks. Surviving on blood had crossed some wires, fried the others, left them perpetually achy and brain fogged. 

        Which was probably why it took them so long to realize they weren't betraying each other. 

        Lensless chucked another piece of rubble that looked just like the rest. "He's definitely not in here."

        "No shit." Scars said.

        Lensless kicked another piece. "Definitely not anywhere. Just gone. Disappeared like the rest of them."

        Scars was quiet a moment, trying to envision that day you'd gone missing, to see the other versions of him. "How many of us were there when we first came?"

        Lensless thought hard, pressing on his eyes. "I don't remember."

        ***

        "Just eat it." Easy enough for Seb to say, chewing a piece down to the juices in his cheek. "Tastes way better than the bugs."

        You swallowed. Looked down at the piece of red-brown meat in your palms. A handful of ounces had never felt so heavy. Day sixteen in the new base, almost a week of no food. You'd boiled the shells of the bugs, tried to convince yourself it tasted like broth, but your powers had gone completely. You needed to eat. 

        Gray watched you, leaning forward on his knees, trying to catch your eyes, "If you want revenge-"

        He'd said this already.

        "I have to eat, I know." You finished for him. "I just-" You looked up, locking eyes with him. Swallowing, throat dry despite recently sipping boiled cave water. You'd been letting details of your time with Mark slip out of you in a slow drip. 

        Another drip escapes you now. Partly because of the crack that'd formed inside you as the hunger consumed you, partly because you hoped a sob story would make them give in to what you wanted. "He told me about his dad throwing him in prison." The words make Gray go stiff, the idea so out there for him he didn't know what to say. "It ruined him, he was so different from all of you because of that one thing his dad did. I keep thinking about what I'd do if I met his dad, but I literally have. I had dinner with Mister Grayson a few times before everything went to piss. He scared the shit out of me just as some suburban dad and I think- what could I do against that? Could I have even changed what happened to him?"

        "Nothing." Gray said. "Father is one of the most promising solders in the empire." 

        You frowned at the meat. Why were you frowning? Had he said the wrong thing? That's why you were starting the conversation, correct? That his father, that Viltrum was impossible to resist? God, he didn't understand humans at all.

        Mohawk cackled over the fire crackle. "Are you kidding? I murdered the fuck outta dad when I was like sixteen."

        Now that got your mind off of things, a possibility no Mark had ever told you about, "Seriously?"

        Mohawk's back straightened at your attention. In his world, he was showered with praise and attention at all times, but the only thing that mattered through all the politics and conquering was beginning and ending his day with you. Out here, you attention was always split between different versions of himself. He was subject to watch as you grew closer to shittier versions of himself. He could share, really, he wasn't as immature as he acted, but not in these wastes. Not when he was so starved of things to think about. He wanted you all the time, none of the other distractions. 

        Whatever. He could think about murder and double crossing later. Right now, he had your attention. "Yeah, it wasn't even that hard."

        ***

        Mohawk's head was partly split open. Oozing brains over his brow and hairline. Hurt like a motherfucker but that was fine. Everything was hunky-dorey-okey-dokey-artichoke-y because dad was finally dead. Beat brainless into the side of Mount Fuji. 

        "Should've," huff, "told," huff, "me," huff, "earlier," huff, "dipshit."

        Dad's broken jaw doesn't twitch. No more lectures. No more holier than thou bullshit.

        A fat shadow encompassed the mountain. Mohawk looked up and saw his ride. His future stretched ahead of him, deceptively straight forward.

        ***

        "So yeah, babe, with me around you ain't gotta worry about no dad." Mohawk said.

        "She was literally talking about the prisoner's Nolan." Maskless nibbled one of the dryer sticks of meat.

        You looked down at your own stick of meat. Wishing it was Mark's dad, it would've made things so much easier. You felt sick now. Knowing in another life Mark could've defended himself, killed Nolan. Your Mark lived, didn't go to prison but he threw you in it. This shit wasn't fair. 

          "Nolan was the most powerful man on Earth, he worked with powerful people. He had resources. How did he never look into me? I wasn't very good at hiding what I was doing when I first started working with Machine Head. We talked on unsecure lines. He didn't have anyone watching his son's girlfriend? Did he just not care? No cameras, no tails, no nothing?"

        Seb tapped at your side with his shoe. "Where are you going with this?" 

        "I never worried about him, but the more you guys talk about him the more I think I should have. I saw on the news after. He was there when I fought Mark." Machine Head's office was fucked, of course there were people recording the high rise. And who did they catch hovering hundreds of feet above the building? Omni Man. "I didn't know Invincible was Omni-Man's son, I didn't even know Mark was Invincible. He hid it from me. I wonder if Nolan was surprised to see me in there or just thought yeah, that makes sense."

       Seb poked you again. "You gonna eat that or just keep babbling?" 

        Markus gave him a look but spoke to you, "Knowing my father, he knew and he didn't care."

        Seb snorted, "Knowing mine, he didn't even know Mark had a girlfriend."

        "They were close in my world. I wonder what he said after Mark broke up with me." You wanted to slap a hand over your mouth soon as you said it. Cat's out the bag. Mohawk already hit the nail on the head but saying it outright was something else. Weight both off and on your shoulders. You test it, saying, "I tried to stop him. It didn't work."

        Blood shot out of your nose. Headache like a hammer to your temple. You on the ground. Machine Head's hired grunts unconscious around you. Mark's eyes were wild on you, "Did you- Did you just-!?"

        You had tried to make him forget while he ranted and raved about what you'd done. Instead you found the ceiling of your powers. The way he looked at you like shit on his shoe made your heart ache. You felt sick, you had no fight left.

        "Yeah." You breathed, "Yeah I did."

        "You can't just control me like that! Have you done that before?!"

        "No." You wiped the blood rolling from your nose. "I'd never do it unless I had to Mark- I love you. I don't want to lose you!"

        He laughed. Actually laughed. Mean and angry. You heard that sound every night in your dreams for the next few years as your life circled the drain. "You don't love me."

        Mohawk doesn't laugh this time. Today he's not bitter. Today is he soft and malleable and maybe if you gave enough of yourself away, he'd take you to Phantom and let you kill him.

        "Fuck him." Mohawk sounded genuinely angry. "Fuck him, like actually. That's the most romantic shit I've ever heard done by someone who isn't me."

        Seb rose a brow at him. "What'd you do Romeo?"

        "What didn't I do." Mohawk looked and sounded far away before his eyes re-focused on you. "He didn't deserve you, fucking asshole."

        "I know." You half smile before getting back to your train of thought, "I tried to stop Mark too." Because you don't think they get it, you add, "In the caves. He was freaking out and I tried to calm him down and he just-" Your hands burned. You realized you were gripping the meat hard, so hard your knuckles were pale. At least you weren't crying. 

        "He killed himself." Gray watched your hands but didn't move, willing them to open, willing the pain to leave your face.

        "I know." You grit out.

        "You misunderstand me. He did that to himself of his own volition."

        Your hands opened, you could see the outline of where the meat was pressing into your palm. "His own volition." You echoed, "My powers are based in interpretation. Whatever you think they mean, you do. He thought stop meant kill himself so he did it- because of me. He didn't want to do anything, he thought I wanted him dead." 

        "Oh, come the fuck on!" Mohawk threw his hands up, "So what? He was weak and stupid! You've said you want us all dead! Who cares! Do you know how many of us would've loved to be trapped in a cave alone with you? I wouldn't have gone apeshit, that's for sure. Apeshit on that-"

        "You're not helping." Markus said.

        "He knew what he was getting into." Gray said. For once, actually saying the right thing.

        He did know. He gave you a grand tour. Knew Phantom was in on it. Let it all happen knowing he wouldn't be able to handle it. For taking you down there to love you, to die, you start to hate him. 

        Still you hesitate to bring the meat to your lips. Mohawk said with too much confidence, "If he was as pussy-whipped as you make him out to be, he'd want you to eat him. I know I would."

        You bring the meat closer. Stomach churning. Lips opening. "I wouldn't want any of you to eat me."

        You're about to bite down when Mohawk nudges his head into your arm. Nuzzling. "I know babe, you want all of us dead. Which totally isn't happening but if I do die before you, take a cut out my shlong, yeah? That thing's gonna one juicy sausage. Mama mia."

        "That's not funny." You're laughing and cringing as you bite down.

        ***

        Scars dragged his head above the water that dripped near black grime off his face. It'd been a stroke of luck that him and Lensless had found this place. The both of them gone crazy from months without any water when they were so used to having it a short flight away. They'd tried to soothe their throats with blood, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd dranken Phantom's blood. He should've savored it- but that didn't matter now. He had water again.

        The cave hadn't been there before. They shoved dried bug carcasses into their mouths. Guzzling water from the queen's throne whenever they were slightly thirsty, which was all the time. They wandered the cave, finding cave ins that smelled of meat and smoke and most importantly- you. 

        For all they knew, this was the only water source left on the plant. For all they knew, someone would come for it and the abandoned shelter. For all they knew, there was no one left at all.

        Days pass.

        The smell dissipates. The remaining bugs, corpses and living, are eaten. Hunger they were unused to gnaws at their psyche. They drool over the queen's pool thinking of raw flesh. They watch the hole to the ceiling from dark corners, waiting to ambush. Day turns to night to day. Nobody comes. They search and find no caves or bodies or people wandering the waste. 

        They begin to wonder if any of it was real at all.

        ***

        Day seventeen in the new hideout.

        Laughter is more common. Jaws are looser. Friendship is an open current passing between you all. Even Maskless who swears up and down he hates you all, has waning venom in his tone. Despite the summer camp attitude, the threat looming in the wastes was still real. Last night Scars and Lensless roamed nearby dunes, screaming into the night. 

        "Is anybody there?"

        "Helllllooooooooo?"       

        You thought they were trying to lure you out. Trying to find a replacement for Phantom because he was near death or dead. You tried to convince any of them to let you outside. To make them and their fried brains to take you to Phantom. To kill the whole lot of them easy peasy. 

        You opened your mouth to command someone, anyone to remove Markus from blocking the fucking exit when he said it.

        "I'll take you soon." Gray is behind you. So close he nearly boxes you into Markus's waiting chest. "You have to be patient."        

        "When is soon?"

        "Soon." 

        That night Gray stayed the night in the tiny hovel. Monitoring Phantom's progress. Willing him to wake, to speak. Gray was a patient man but it was wearing thin. He needed your praise for a job well done. Desired it. Had wet dreams about it. 

        Again, Phantom didn't wake in the night.

        ***

        Another day of training. This time your mentee was Gray. Seb had excused himself not long after Gray returned. Said he was going to look for supplies. They'd been doing that an awful lot the past few days. Searching in shifts. You thought little of it. You assumed it was better if only one person left at a time to minimize risk of being spotted by the crazies.

        You sat on stools of cool rock facing each other. You hurled commands at Gray. Fed and watered, expecting easy compliance. You get a battle.

        "Stand up."

        He stayed seated.

        "Get up."

       He did not.

        "Move!"

        Nothing.

        "Tell me why you're so hard to control."

        "The Mark of your world never joined the Empire, correct?" His voice is like a godsend. Finally you got him to do something. Eagerly, you nod. "Was there anyone sent from the Empire to coerce him into doing so?" You wrack your brain but simply don't know. Mark faught so many aliens on the news all the time, you tried to avoid the stories entirely. Gray hums, "You wouldn't know him then- my mentor."

        You lean forward. High on control. "Who was that?"

        "Conquest." He said. 

        You blink. "Like the concept or?"

        "Be advised you are not controlling me and I'm giving up this information of my own volition." The words are like a slap to each each cheek. You never felt the connection, never felt his mind in your grasp, you'd just been too excited to notice. Motherfucker. "He's the best of us. My mother was worried he'd kill me in training but I survived."

        You dropped the training ball, curious now. "How's hitting shit make you resistant to me?" 

        His brows rose. "Mental fortitude is important in battle." 

        That... Made a lot of sense. Markus seemed plenty mentally steely and you couldn't get him to raise a finger.

        "Hm." Learn something new everyday but you didn't quite like the taste of defeat. You go for the jugular, which always seemed so exposed with these men when it came to you, "Kiss me."

        Heads turn right as Gray practically lunged out of his seat. Hands still tucked behind his back while his lips met yours. Kiss so hard, your lips were pressed to your teeth. As soon as it was happened, he was pulling himself away pink cheeked.

        "Hey!" Mohawk was across the cave at ready to punch his throat, "What the fuck!?"

        "Congratulations." Gray slid back into his chair. "You controlled me."

        Mohawk's fist paused. "Wait- hey- why'd you tell him to do that?"

        You shrug, "Thought it'd be worth a shot and it was. I win." Except you knew Gray was lying and had lying in wait hoping you'd pull a desperate move. Clever. 

        "Your control didn't last long." Gray said, eyes intense. He was practically begging you to ask him again. His slowly growing erection was also begging. He shifted, hiding it under the fabric. 

        You know what his shifting legs means, had seen it plenty since your encounter. You smirked, knowing a distracted target was an easy one. "Spin around."

        Gray hovered and did a stiff about face. Throwing off the control after a spin and a half but looking mildly perturbed. "You-" 

        "That's two for two." You remind him of the lie you were mutually spinning.

        He swallowed, wiping the surprise off his face quick as it appeared. "You're getting better but we must pursue training to ensure you can hold onto a target longer than a second." He sat again, crossing his legs. 

        "Me next." Mohawk insisted. "Me!"

        You give him a look that isn't withering, "You'd do that anyways." 

        He ignored Gray, ignored the lesson at hand to lean into your personal space. Smelling of sweat, breath spray, and cologne he hastily applied once he thought you were open to make out. Sure, he was jealous but Gray could be dealt with later. What mattered more now was you. "That such a bad thing?"        

        You hum pretending to consider. "What'll you give me in return?"

        "Best orgasm of your life." His voice was teasing but his face was serious. 

        Heat suddenly sparked in your core. You swallowed down the fluttering in your chest, "I can DIY that one, thanks." Though honestly? You were tempted. You hadn't been able to get your rocks off in weeks, not since Seb, who seemed content not pursuing things again if it meant no one was mad at him. You knew you'd have to find a replacement sooner or later. Like Mohawk who was offering, even if he was a dick. "What else you got?"

        Seb rushed into the room then, wide eyed, mouth open. Words die on his tongue when he sees you. "Uhm- uh- the thing is- yeah."

        They spoke cryptically for a few moments, as you watched. Gray said he had something to show you. Mohawk said not to freak out. They took you outside. Flew over the dunes a half second before taking you inside a boulder.

        Your mouth was agape, nose burning with the smell of days old blood. The heat prickled at your skin despite the shade.

        It was hard not to when the reason for Mark dying was right there. Leaning sweaty and pathetic against the wall. Hair shaven from his scalp. Five o'clock shadow gone into a full midnight, the stubbly beard longer than the hair on his head. His suit was torn and abused, exposing peeling skin. Most disconcerting was the glaringly obvious lack of limbs on one side of his body. Stumps pink with newly grown skin and blisters. 

        Despite the hell he'd been through, his glassy blue eyes were looking at you like you were an angel sent from above to bring him salvation. You were anything but.

        ***

        Across universes, across dimensions, Angstrom Levy was nearly finished paying off his debts to the Technitions. Daydreaming constantly about the revenge he'd enact on one Mark Grayson. 

[star4daisy]

map - 972 words - @rosekillermicrofic

tw: wounds, physical assault

Barty had always refused to see the doctor after his father was done with him. He'd learned the lesson to avoid them when he was twelve, trying to find someone to help him and his mom out of the house. No one ever lifted a finger to assist them.

That was until he passed out after one of their little sessions and Barty woke up being tended by lovely long fingers that held him with care.

Barty hadn't felt a gentle touch in years — ever since his mother died — so he couldn't be blamed for being unable to resist coming back, especially when he noticed that the doctor didn't ask questions that Barty couldn't give him the answer to.

Two years passed with comforting touches and sharp needles mending Barty's skin back together. With time, Evan Rosier mended more than just Barty's skin. Evan turned him human again. As human as Barty could ever become after years of neglect and abuse.

Evan was tending to the wounds on his back as Barty complained about the other soldiers' behaviour, he could barely feel the sting of the alcohol as his open back was getting disinfected.

He'd been through this enough times to know how the procedure went, Evan would caress his unmarred skin with one hand to comfort him and then press his needle inside Barty's open flesh, always trying to put him back together. Evan didn't always succeed. Sometimes Barty thought that he had been broken one too many times for it to work again.

If things had been any different between them Barty would've never allowed Evan to map the scars on his back with his lovely fingers. Barty had been ashamed of it for so long, of how ugly they looked. Sometimes he still flinched from the touch, his subconscious never expected the proximity to not be a danger.

No one had gotten close without taking a piece of him along with them, Evan had been the first to give. To fix.

Barty was in awe of him.

Once Evan was done and had wrapped the worst of it in gauze, he began the tradition of kissing every old scar on Barty's body. Evan started with the one on his shoulder, just a slight brush of his lips that was enough to make Barty shudder. The effect was bigger on his body than any sharp tool had been before.

Then Evan kissed his spine, Barty had to restrain the instinctive jerky movement so he wouldn't pull away from him.

He never wanted to pull away from Evan again.

The tradition had started the first time Barty pulled away from him when Evan touched one of his scars. "Why do you always do that?" His tone was curious.

"They're ugly, you're not," Barty said matter of factly. "No reason for you to have to see them," he shrugged uncomfortably.

Evan froze in the process of taking his gloves off. "Who said they were ugly?"

"I did."  

"Crouch," the name was said as a warning.

"You know who."

Evan studied him for a while and then he pulled Barty's chin up, forcing him to look into Evan's stony blue eyes. "Nothing about you will ever be as ugly as he is, inside and out."

Barty nodded jerkily, avoiding eye contact once again.

"I mean it, Crouch," Evan pulled him by the chin again. "They're a part of you, each one of them tells me a story about who you are. They're a map to your soul. How could that ever be ugly?"

Barty felt like his throat was swollen, which was weird because he was sure he hadn't been hurt there. "Don't call me that," was all he managed to say. "That's his name, not mine."

Evan nodded slowly, analysing Barty's features as if he needed to draw him from memory. "And how would you want me to call you?"

"Barty is fine."

"Barty," Evan said it like he was tasting the words in his mouth.

"Yes?" Barty answered, finally raising his head out of his own will and Evan rewarded him by kissing Barty for the first time.

Now, as Evan had grown used to tending to his wounds and Barty was more comfortable with his body and soul, he finally gathered the courage to admit to Evan the truth in his heart. "I hate him," he said. "I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone."

Barty knew it was wrong of him to say when they were in the middle of a war, that he should hate their enemies more than the man who was leading them to victory. But he couldn't keep it inside anymore, the words had been choking him for years and Evan — his only safe space — had allowed him to breathe after spilling them.

Evan didn't stop the task of mapping Barty's scars with his lips, when he spoke it was against the skin of Barty's neck, "Do you want me to kill him?" He offered, warm breath sending chills down Barty's spine.

Barty was ashamed of how long he'd thought about this before. "His death might condemn us all."

"Or it might free us." Evan was like the devil whispering behind his shoulder.

"It needs to look like an inevitability." Barty finally conceded, turning to look at Evan's cold eyes. "We couldn't just shoot him, we'd be dead in thirty seconds."

"Don't worry, darling." Evan kissed his jaw, moving his lips slowly until he reached Barty's mouth. "I've had a plan since the first time you entered this tent bleeding because of him."

When Barty went to sleep that night he could finally relax in their makeshift bed. Even if his father's death resulted in all of theirs, Barty found he could be at peace as long as he had Evan by his side.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Penalty II

Barcelona Femení + Jenni Hermoso x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Jenni tries to score a penalty

Jenni arrives after lunch, stretched and ready to beat you where Alexia has failed.

"Can you believe that this is the same kids that Tana went around getting our shirts for?" Jana asks in disbelief as Jenni sends an absolute rocket towards the goal only for you to collect it like it was shot at you by a six year old.

You drop the ball to your foot before shooting it back to her.

Jenni doesn't have your skills in the slightest so she doesn't catch it with her hands but rather her stomach. To her credit, she takes it well and grabs the ball to take another penalty.

"You know," Pina says as she watches Jenni kick another ball at you," When Aitana came up to me to ask, I was certain she was giving them to a kid that wanted to be a forward. I watched her grab one from Mariona and Salma before me."

"But why?" Talia asks suddenly," She's always wanted to be a keeper."

"I didn't know her," Pina replies with an eye roll," Aitana didn't give much of an explanation. Sue me for assuming."

"I couldn't imagine her as anything other than a keeper," Aitana says finally as another ball goes rocketing at you that you collect without even a second thought.

"It seems weird now that you say it," Pina agrees," But again, I didn't know who it was for at the time."

She reaches for more of the juice that Paredes packed.

Across the field, you collect yet another ball as Alexia grabs Jenni by the back of the shirt to pull her into an imitation of a team huddle.

The two of them are close enough that their heads are pressed together, no doubt trying to come up with a plan they haven't tried yet.

You stand there awkwardly, adjusting your gloves as the two veterans whisper together like two schoolkids. You wait a little longer before deciding that you'll just go and sit down while the two of them cook up a master plan.

"Hey," You say to Talia softly, taking her hand as you sit down.

"Hey," She replies," Are you finished then?"

"I think they're trying to work out a plan," You confess," They're two seconds away from drawing it out with a stick in the dirt."

It's a bit embarrassing for them because you've hit the nail on the head. Both of them are clutching sticks, looking on the ground for a patch without grass so they can draw something out.

"Do you think they regressed since they retired?" Talia wonders aloud when Jenni and Alexia find a clear patch and get to work drawing with their sticks. "Like, do you think that they've gone back to children? Is that what's going to happen to us?"

You frown. "I don't know. Did it happen to your cousin?"

"Patri was always a child."

"Okay!" Alexia says suddenly, clapping her hands," We've got it. We've done it. Get back out there."

You laugh a little under your breath but get back up.

"Don't let them win!" Patri yells after you along with the jeering from the rest of the girls as you take your spot back on your goal line.

Jenni runs up to kick the ball only to fall short and wheel around back to Alexia to whisper to her about something.

Alexia whispers back until they're having a little argument in hushed voices.

"Come on!" Pina cajoles," Are you scared or what?"

There's more jeering the longer they take until Jenni steps up again.

She doesn't do a run up and you're already moving to the left before she's even realised she's shooting that way.

You collect it easily, rolling the ball back.

Jenni huffs and Alexia runs up to whisper something into her ears. She nods and tries again.

Just like Alexia, she grows a bit more annoyed the longer it takes to get passed you. You don't give her any hope and the next time Alexia comes up to whisper in her ears, she snaps," I know! It just isn't working!"

"Do you want to stop?" You ask," It's getting late now."

"Yeah," Jenni says," Alright-"

"No!" Alexia snaps," Don't admit defeat! Don't let her win!"

"Hey!" Jenni throws her hands up in defence. "I'm more than happy to let her win. I know when we're outclassed."

"We're not outclassed! We're just rusty!"

Jenni claps you on the back as Alexia continues to insist she's just a little rusty.

"How do you deal with her at training all the time? Is she this intense as a coach?"

"More intense," You answer," You should see her when the midfielders mess up."

Jenni laughs. "Oh, I can imagine. Does she still get crazy eyes?"

You shrug and that's answer enough.

"I don't get crazy eyes!"

Jenni can't stop laughing now. "Sure you don't, Ale."

[moonstruckme]

Idk if this is even enough for a request but I would love to see poly marauders w a reader who takes extremely hot showers, like maybe she’s already in the shower when the boys come home and they go to join her but start squealing and they jump back out, pouting at her about “it’s too hot! You’re boiling, you’re going to pass out in there” etc. I just think it’s funny and I love a good hot shower. (Bonus pts for plus size reader!! Not sure how that would be important but I’d love it if it was!)

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! I couldn't really find a way to make it plus!size reader without describing her body a lot but that felt sort of weird and I ended up cutting most of it, so unfortunately it's only plus!size reader if you squint a bit

cw: non-sexual (okay, some sexual, but it's only lightly implied) nudity

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 628 words

Steam whooshes out of the bathroom when James opens the door. The mirror is completely fogged up and he’s immediately warm, but that’s alright, because he’s shrugging off his shirt anyway. 

“Hi, angel,” he calls over the spray.

“Jamie?” Your voice echoes off the tile a second before your head pokes out past the curtain. “When did you get home?”

“Just now, but Sirius and Rem are already in the kitchen making dinner.” Well, Remus is making dinner. Sirius is providing commentary. “Can I join you in there?” 

Your smile comes quick and devious, water dripping from your chin. “Sure you can.” 

James hurries out of his pants and socks, pulling aside the curtain. “Alright, scoot ov—ah!” He hardly gets one leg under the spray before he’s jumping back. “Shit that’s hot! What the hell, lovie? Are you trying to cauterize yourself?” 

You laugh like he’s overreacting, which James knows for certain he is not. Steams pours out so thickly from behind the curtain it’s a wonder there’s any water left to wash yourself with that hasn’t instantly evaporated. “What’s wrong with a hot shower?” you ask. 

James doesn’t know how to answer that. “Hot” doesn’t even begin to describe the temperatures you’re subjecting yourself to. He hears footsteps in the hall, and a second later Sirius is opening the door, Remus behind him. 

“Did someone yell?” 

“Yeah, me,” James says, accusatory, “when I nearly had the skin scorched clean off my leg.” 

Sirius raises a single brow. “That scream was awful girlish, Prongs. You sure it was you?” 

“Prick,” James laughs. “Go on, feel the water. It’s like she’s punishing herself in there!”

Remus steps past Sirius, sticking his hand under the showerhead. His eyebrows raise, and he draws it back (albeit with much more dignity than James had withdrawn, but he’d been caught by surprise). “That really is quite warm, dove. I can barely hold my hand under there, how’re you doing it with your whole body?” 

You shrug, turning towards them, and it occurs to James that he and you are both naked while your other two boyfriends are fully clothed. There was a time where you would’ve tried to hide yourself from them in this state, and he’s hit with a rush of gratitude that that time has passed. Still, he doesn’t quite like the look of you like this, steam rising off your body as water that may as well be magma slides over your curves. James can’t believe you when you say that doesn’t hurt. 

“It’s nice,” you say, like some kind of psychopath. “I don’t know, I like it.”

“Sweetheart, you could pass out from heat like this,” Remus frets.

“Is it really that bad?” Sirius is skeptical, until Remus presses the palm that he’d held in the water to his face. His eyes widen. “Fuck, how can you stand that, babe?” 

“You guys are wimps,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “It’s cold outside, and I fancied a hot shower. Sue me.”

“But this is more than hot,” Remus says. James nods ardently. “You’re really telling me you don’t even feel lightheaded?” 

“I don’t,” you promise, but James isn’t having it. He pulls the curtain aside, gripping the fat of your hip (“Fuck, Jamie, you’re freezing!”) to reach around you and adjust the water temperature. 

“There,” he says. “Let it cool down a bit, and you won’t melt your brain, plus I’ll be able to get in with you. Okay?” 

Remus nods satisfiedly, hurrying back towards the kitchen to attend to whatever he’s likely left on the stove, but you pout. “It’s going to be cold,” you complain. 

“I’ll be in there with you,” James reminds you, grinning when you brighten. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too cold, lovie.”

[sihtsisdrowkcab]

DP x DC prompt - Villainess AU

Hey! So I found this promt and just had to write something with it!

https://www.tumblr.com/kuroishuuha/714717053010984960/dp-x-dc-prompt-villainess-au?source=share

Prompt

-Danny is transported into a novel/game where he is the villainess fiancé of the male lead.

Knowing that only death awaits him at the end, Danny tries to end the engagement (who knows if death will stick this time - Danny is not gonna risk finding out)

Meanwhile, Jason finds himself as the male lead of a novel/game he never read/played

The system in his head is telling him that the only way to get back home is to have a happy ending with his fiancé

So we have Danny who is desperately trying to end his engagement and a Jason who is trying to woo his fiancé (and cursing the original male lead - because the guy must have done something horrible for his cute and nice fiancé to be desperate to break up with him)-

Story

Danny was so over this. He thought this would have been easy, maybe not on his parents part god knows they don't give up without a fight, but his fiance has shown nothing but disdain for him his whole life (even if he wasn't here for 90% of that life) He thought he'd only have to tell his fiance that he didn't want to marry him, his fiance would be ecstatic and run into the sun with Ophelia and he'd get the weight off his shoulders and wouldn't have to worry about dying anymore and yet...

"No."

Danny just looked at him with horror "What do you mean no?" He practically yelled.

"No, I won't break off the engagement."

"Why not!? You hate me! You've hated me since the moment we met! I know you want to be with ophelia!"

Jason looked like he was trying to read his face which makes no sense, if anyone should be trying to read the other's face it should be him!

Danny grabbed Jason's shoulders and shook them, he knew he wasn't acting like a proper gentleman, but his life was on the line! "Have you lost your goddamn mind? What in the world is wrong with you?" He paused, took a breath and let go of the teshis shoulders. He was sure this had something or the other to do with politics, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it at all. He took another step back, he had to appease Jason somehow. "Look, neither of us wanted to get married and neither of us really knew what we were getting into when our parents signed the agreement and had us agree to this, my parents won't back down but from what I know of your parents they'll let you back out of this no problem. My parents will be pissed but that's neither here nor there. There is really no reasonable excuse for why we shouldn’t break off our engagement." Danny said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. There was no way Jason could deny all of that.

-

How could Jason deny all of that?! He was acting completely out of character, which was funny because he hardly knew what his character was like at all besides from second hand accounts. When he was told he just had to get a happy ending with his fiance he had thought this would be a piece of cake, he had brushed everything else off and took this as a really weird miny vacation, how hard could it really be to marry your fiance? Everything was already set up, it couldn't fail.

Except for the fact that apparently he was a dick and hated his fiance and she was done with all that, which he would have cheered on the fiance any day, get rid of that dick 100%. But now he was here in that dick's place and having to deal with his stupid problems and his fiance wanted to divorce him! How was he ever going to get a happy ending out of this? He did eventually want to get home no matter how annoying Bruce could be at times.

His fiance huffed drawing his eyes to him, he really was very pretty, he had no idea why Damian seemingly hated him. Sure he was being annoying as hell right now but really that was all Damian's fault.

"look i don't know why you seem to be fighting for this, it seriously seems like you just forgot everything!"

Jason froze, should he go with that? It really would be rather convincing seeing as he really didn't know Damian at all.

Danial paused, his eyes widening as he fixed on Jason's hesitance, seemingly picking apart all that he was and assessing him not adequate.

"You really don't act like Damian at all..."

He froze again, was that a good thing? Was this gonna be what gave him away?

"Did you hit your head or something? Temporary amnesia?"

"Y-yes!" Was he messing this up, would Danial believe that?

"Then why are you fighting so hard to keep the engagement? You don't know me at all."

Shit. shit what did he say? How did he convince Danial to keep the engagement if his other self hated him and this self didn't know him?

"I-I heard how wonderful you were from my parents and- and fell in love!"

Danial backed up with a distured look on his face, fuck he shouldn't have said that. "Love? After just hearing about me? That’s… kind of creepy."

“I just want to get to know you!”

Danial looked at him, his shoulders slumped and he looked resigned as he said "fine we'll keep up the engagement for now.” yes! “But when you get your memories back, we're breaking it off.”

Not great, but at least he knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

 He turned around to leave, oh wait. "I haven't told anyone else I've lost my memories so could you keep that one to yourself?" He asked, turning back around.

Danial looked at him suspiciously. "Why haven't you told anyone else? Not even your family?"

Fuck again! Why couldn't he just get this right? "Of course my family knows!" He really hoped Danial never met them because they absolutely did not. "but no one at this school does, i don't want them to treat me like i'm made of glass like my parents." Not completely off base, they've been tiptoeing around him all summer, probably because he was acting so weird.

"that makes sense." Danial sighed, he looked suddenly like the whole weight of the world was upon his shoulders. 

Jason screwed up his face, he had definitely been the one to place it there. He wanted to go over to him and tell him that they could break off the engagement after all but he really couldn't do that. "I'm sorry." He settled for instead.

Danial looked surprised. "You’re apologizing?"

"Yeah, I've made this so much harder for you than it really had to be. And you don't really know me anymore and I really don't know you."

Danial looked at him with something akin to empathy. "It's hard being thrust into a world that's unfamiliar to you isn't it? No one you trust or know around you and having to be something your not."

Jason looked at him in genuine shock. "H-how?"

Danial looked panicked for a second before he gave a light laugh. "I may not have amnesia but I do have expectations from everyone around me." He rubbed his arm. "Everyone says you're way out of my league and that I'm lucky to have you." This time his laugh was bitter.

"If anything you said about the old me was true it was really the opposite."

Danial gave a snort that Jason couldn't help feeling was the prettiest thing he's ever heard. "oh believe me i down played it."

Jason looked at him aghast. "Downplayed it!? Just how bad was I??"

Daniel gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a smirk, "Now that, my friend is a talk for another time. Danial moved past him brushing his shoulder, what felt like a shock passed through him and he went stiff. When he finally came to his senses he was all by himself, What had just happened?

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[reginyani]

Late Night Case Files | s.reid x reader

summary: you and Spencer find yourselves working late on some case files, and what starts off as a deep conversation ends in something more intimate.

cw: Y/N used, reader implied as a female, make out sesh (sorta), earlyseasons!spencer

wc: 811

A/N: please reblog if you enjoyed! reblogging is the only way to promote fics on tumblr :) this is pretty simple, but the ideas are not flowing recently💔

It was well past midnight when you and Spencer Reid found yourselves in a dimly lit conference room. Case files were scattered everywhere, but you both were too deep into this case to just take off and leave it for tomorrow. Coffee cups were carefully placed away from the stacks of papers, barely touched and cold.

Spencer looked up into the distance, muttering to himself while he processed new information. You watched him for a few moments, visibly seeing something click in his brain that hadn't before. He looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. It was quite amusing, actually.

"Y/N, I think I've got it." He motioned with his hand for you to come over to his side. He held onto the file, letting you look at it for a moment before telling you. You looked at him, confused, still not understanding. He finally pointed at the paper, looking up at you. "Right here," his voice was quieter due to the darkness of the night. "This here is the connection we've all just looked over. We missed it, and there it was... in plain sight." He sighed.

You smile brightly, nodding at his connection to the case. "You're amazing, boy genius," you said softly, but not just about the case—just him in general. Spencer's usual distance from you, both emotionally and physically, was absent tonight. He was closer than normal, almost leaving no space between you two, like right now. You shifted slightly away from him, realizing how weird it was to be so close to him. It wasn’t normal.

He looked over at you, smiling at your compliment. "I'm just doing my job, Y/N." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, waiting for you to say something else.

"It's not just that, Reid. You see every little detail that others don't. It's truly something that you should give yourself more credit for." Spencer's lips parted slightly as you said this, like he was going to say something, but he hesitated. "What?" you asked.

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I've missed out on the most simple things." He looked down at the files scattered on the table again before looking back up at you. "Like... really connecting with people, you know?"

You were taken aback by this. This was Dr. Spencer Reid, a man who could crack cases in seconds, decode a serial killer’s mind without any issues! But something about the atmosphere of the dark night outside the windows, the late hour, and the rhythm you shared in the work you had just done made him feel... loose.

You met his eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry, I've just never had the opportunity to talk about this stuff with anyone before. Not in any way that feels... real," he explained, causing you to automatically nod in his direction.

"You're not alone, Spencer. I think everyone struggles with that sometimes," you said, puckering your lips with empathy. You couldn't help it, the warmth spread throughout your body as you felt the connection between you two growing by the second.

He was standing in front of you, barely any space between you two. You soon began to notice this—it was hard not to. You both stared into each other's eyes, letting the tension grow heavier.

Spencer broke the silence, sounding almost breathless as he smiled at you. "Did you know," he began, putting a hand on your cheek and drawing you closer to him, "according to studies, kissing is actually safer than shaking hands?"

You raised an eyebrow in question. "Kissing? Really?" you asked, your heart beating rapidly. He didn't answer, instead slowly closing the gap between you both.

When your lips met, it was soft at first, like a question that you had to answer. You quickly answered it, pulling your hand up and resting it on his shoulder as you deepened the kiss. Your other hand found its way to his neck, holding onto it as you pulled him in closer.

You both eventually pull away, his hand still resting on your cheek, your breaths mingling between you two. You smiled, and he sent one back. Your breath started to calm, and he opened his mouth.

"Way safer than shaking hands..." he muttered, still breathless from the previous act.

You chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. "Well, I think I can take that as a compliment."