#it got them matching coping mechanisms

[peterocleus]

Just saying (since I have yet to see it be mentioned), Robotnik carving Stone's face on a rock whilst in the Mushroom Planet—only for it to be disregarded after an attack—is technically the same thing as Stone making a latte art of the doctor's face and it getting destroyed by a random man. You're not slick with the parallel, SEGA.

[aleese1111]

Continue the seongje and baekjin one shot, plss 😭 I love your writing btw

three wolves, one flame three | geum seong je x union!reader x na baek jin

summary: she disappears for three days. the group chat stays active, but her silence buzzes louder than the messages. when she comes back, no one asks for an apology—but some things still need saying.

warnings: [slow burn] violence, blood, emotional repression, miscommunication, bruises, language, toxic coping, mild angst, vulnerability, references to mental strain, unhealthy attachment .

author's note: this is lowkey boring . next chapter i will end some fights, maybe . requests ,,

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , .. two .. three .. ??

she didn’t show up the next day.

or the day after.

she didn’t say anything in the group chat either, just read messages and left them on delivered. the trio thread kept lighting up—seong je sending blurry photos of some idiot who thought he could run with their stuff, his bruised knuckles front and center in half the shots. baek jin replied with deadpan sarcasm as usual:

you get off on sending crime scene selfies or what at least wipe the blood next time, dumbass.

she left no reaction. no thumbs-up. no eye roll. just silence.

seong je didn’t say anything about it, but every time the chat buzzed and her read receipt popped up, he stared a little longer than he needed to. his replies grew shorter. more photos, less commentary.

baek jin didn’t press her either. he already knew where she was—texted once, got a vague “need space,” and left it at that.

by the time she walked into the office again, three days had passed.

the air smelled like microwave ramen and disinfectant. the arcade outside was still warming up—machines humming, half-lit—but inside the office, baek jin sat alone at the desk, mechanical pencil in one hand, a half-solved sudoku in the other.

she didn’t say anything at first. just walked in like she’d never left, dropped her tote bag by the couch, and moved to the filing cabinet near the wall.

baek jin didn’t look up. “you look like shit.”

“thanks.” she pulled open the drawer, flipping through documents with more precision than necessary.

silence.

“you okay?” he asked, quieter.

she paused. “eventually.”

he nodded once. “fair.”

she didn’t look at him. “did you keep the delivery records from last week?”

“top drawer. labeled in red.”

she found them, tucked them under one arm, and started organizing them into the accordion folder she’d abandoned three days ago. her movements were stiff—robotic, almost—but her eyes didn’t have that wild look anymore. just tired.

“i saw the chat,” she said suddenly, still facing the files.

baek jin raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“seong je’s still trying to impress us with his selfies.”

“he’s consistent, i’ll give him that.”

she didn’t reply. just clicked the folder shut and slung it under her arm like a shield. “i need to take these to the garage.”

baek jin leaned back in his chair, watching her go. “try not to set it on fire.”

“i’ll try.”

she left without another word.

@ . !

the motorcycle garage still smelled like sweat and oil, like time hadn’t passed since the last argument cracked through its walls.

seong je was slouched on the couch in his corner, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, doing whatever it was he did when no one told him not to—probably scrolling, probably brooding, or both. his school shirt was off again—just a tank top now, stained with grease—and his hands were already a mess of oil and old blood, wrapped haphazardly in gauze.

he heard her before he saw her.

she walked in with the folder hugged to her chest, eyes scanning the shelves for the logbooks that matched her records. she didn’t acknowledge him. not at first.

seong je didn’t move, but his eyes tracked her. “didn’t die after all,” he said flatly.

she didn’t look up. “sorry to disappoint.”

“you ghosted.”

“i needed air.”

he let the silence stretch. then: “baek jin knew?”

“of course he did.”

his jaw tensed. “right.”

she moved to the shelves, tugging out a binder, flipping through it like she was looking for something worth fighting about. but her hands were steadier than before.

“you mad at me or just at the world again?” he asked, not moving from where he stood.

she glanced at him—finally. her face unreadable. “if i was mad at you, you’d know.”

“that a threat?”

“no,” she said, softer now. “a fact.”

the silence that followed was brittle, but not sharp. just... unsure.

he watched her for a second longer, then went back to the caliper, voice quieter this time. “i thought maybe something happened. something worse.”

she froze for just a second before kneeling beside the lower shelf, pretending to search again. “why would you think that?”

“you left. no word. that’s not you.”

“it is when i’m not interested in a second breakdown in the span of a week.”

he didn’t respond to that right away.

then, voice low: “you don’t have to disappear to handle your shit.”

“i do when it’s loud.”

“...was it me?”

she blinked at the shelf. slowly. “you didn’t help.”

“good,” he muttered, tone sharpening. “because i’m not gonna play nice just ‘cause you cry once.”

“didn’t ask you to.”

“good.”

she shut the binder.

they stared at each other again. neither moved.

then—somehow gentler—seong je spoke. “i didn’t mean to scare you. that night. i just... i get stupid when i think we’re losing something.”

she exhaled slowly, standing back up. “then stop getting stupid.”

he smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

she moved toward the desk near the corner, setting the folder down. her posture eased a little, like the fight had already drained out of her. like whatever she’d been holding in those missing days had been emptied somewhere between baek jin’s silence and this garage’s stale heat.

“i’m not mad,” she said finally.

he didn’t reply. just nodded, once.

“and i didn’t cry,” she added flatly.

he snorted. “sure. must’ve been rain indoors.”

she rolled her eyes and flipped open the folder. “shut up and hand me the maintenance logs.”

he passed them over without a word, but when their fingers brushed, just briefly—she didn’t pull away.

@ . !

the garage was quiet. not just physically—quiet in that crawling, weighty way that meant something unsaid was hanging in the air, uninvited and unwelcome.

she finished shuffling through the folders, double-checking figures on her phone with one hand while holding the corner of a page with the other. she didn’t make a sound until she shut the last file closed with a dull thunk against the desk.

seong je hadn’t moved. still on the couch, one leg bent under the other, his fingers idle now, phone dark on his thigh.

she turned slowly, stretched her arms overhead until her back cracked, then walked over. he didn’t say anything, just watched her as she dropped down next to him like it was nothing. like she hadn’t ghosted the groupchat. like she hadn’t gone missing. like he hadn’t noticed.

she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. offered him one, wordless.

he took it.

the first drag was silence. so was the second. the air filled with smoke and something sharp that had nothing to do with nicotine.

“…you good?” he asked eventually, not looking at her.

she exhaled through her nose. “yeah.”

that was all she gave him.

he nodded once, jaw flexing like he was weighing his next words, then letting them drop.

she leaned back into the couch, staring ahead at nothing. the kind of stare that meant her thoughts were somewhere else—untouchable, maybe even to herself.

he lit his second drag. “baek jin didn’t say anything either.”

she glanced sideways at that, just briefly. “he knew.”

“hm.”

they sat there in that stillness for a while, smoke curling above their heads, shoulders brushing occasionally in that too-familiar way that meant something used to be here, maybe still is, maybe not.

“…next time,” seong je said, after a moment, “just send a blank message or something. so i don’t gotta keep guessing if i should start digging.”

she flicked ash into the tray. “you don’t need to guess.”

“still did.”

she didn’t say anything.

didn’t have to.

then, softer—quiet enough that it could’ve been for her or for himself—he added, “hard not to.”

that silence after hit different. not sharp. not cold. just real.

she didn’t look at him. didn’t flinch either. just sat there, smoke slipping past her lips like it didn’t matter.

but it did.

even if neither of them said so.

the cigarette burned low between her fingers. seong je had already stubbed his out, leaning forward with elbows on knees, eyes low, jaw set in that unreadable way of his.

she tapped ash into the tray again. “you ever gonna say what’s actually bothering you?”

he blinked. a beat passed. then he gave a breath of a laugh—more air than sound.

“didn’t think we were doing that now.”

“maybe we are,” she said, voice flat. “maybe i’m asking.”

he leaned back, stretching his arms behind the couch. the motion pulled his shirt tight across his chest, scars visible under the loose neckline.

“…i thought you weren’t coming back,” he muttered. it wasn’t accusatory. just honest.

she didn’t answer right away. the truth sat heavy behind her teeth.

then—quiet—“i almost didn’t.”

that shut him up for a second.

he turned his head to look at her. really look.

“you leaving for good wouldn’t have surprised me,” he said. “but not saying anything would’ve.”

she looked straight ahead. “i didn’t owe anyone a goodbye.”

“but you left us on read,” he said. “that’s worse.”

that earned him a look, finally. she wasn’t angry. just tired.

“you make it sound like i ghosted my high school friends. i needed time. that’s it.”

“you left me wondering if i fucked up,” he said plainly. “and baek jin kept saying nothing. that’s how i knew something was off.”

she pulled her legs up onto the couch, cigarette now mostly forgotten in the tray.

“…baek jin saw something he wasn’t supposed to.”

he arched a brow but didn’t press. didn’t need to. whatever it was, he filed it away behind that quiet demeanor of his.

she tilted her head back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment. “i’m here now. that’s all that matters.”

“that all?”

she didn’t answer.

a knock echoed from the other end of the garage—a metal-on-metal tap against the doorframe. baek jin stood there, leaned against it, holding two plastic bags.

“you two gonna sit in your own smoke all day, or you want shitty convenience store food?” he asked.

seong je didn’t move. “depends. you get the melon milk?”

baek jin nodded. “one for each of you.”

she stood, brushing ash from her jeans. “then i’m in.”

as she walked past him toward the back table, baek jin’s eyes met seong je’s. something unreadable passed between them.

then seong je stood too, cracking his neck with a quiet roll of his shoulders.

back to normal. almost.

but not quite.

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , .. two .. three.. ??

[frosttbitten]

got vi on my mind again so here's this

nsfw. mdni.

pit fighter vi who gets so mad when she loses a match that she's borderline breaking in to your apartment at two am

her hands are shaking when you open your mouth to question her about her purpose in your apartment

but she's not giving you a chance to speak before she's yanking you by the front of your shirt, kissing you hard as her hands wandered to your waist, pulling your hips flush against hers.

now, you're not too sure how one kiss turned into clothes thrown over your living room, two of her fingers so deep inside you, but you're not really one to complain about that. not when she's moaning into your mouth muttering "pussy's s'tight, baby. squeezin' me so tight i can barely move my fingers"

poor baby's so upset about the fight she lost she's not realizing how sensitive you are by the second time you've came on her fingers. vi wouldn't care either, she's too upset. and what better coping mechanism than burying her face between your legs? her lips wrapping around your clit before she's pulling her fingers out of you, replacing them with her tongue, whimpering against your pussy because you just taste so good.

her free hand is pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you from squirming, her tongue fucking your little hole for ages, even though her jaw was starting to hurt. she'll deal with that happily if it means she can stay between your legs

you can't think by the time she's done with you, her head resting on your chest, looking almost innocent. you might've believed it, too. if not for the three... maybe more orgasms she pulled from you.

maybe the loss was alright if it meant she got to fuck you like this afterward

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

I remember you making a post about possibly making a neglected hero/vigilante reader so all I'm thinking about is nh! Reader just acting or being DC's version of moon knight and having beef with a DC villain or the DC version of Dracula. like we act unhinged with the batfam as a coping mechanism so they just see us as batshit crazy and impulsive but everyone else gets the more strategic and thoughtful side

(Omg I'm sorry this turned out so much longer then needed -💠)

(SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG YOU BARELY DONT EVEN REMEMBER SENDING THIS ASK AHHH)

Reader is definitely Red x. No question, ask they're definitely.

Red X reader has too much fun terrorizing the Teen Titans and Young Justice at the same time. You basically stole big brother Dicks whole flow by taking his costume. You get to fit in while taking his weapons and being inspired by some of his other gear, like his batons, and making them way more lethal. He'll be absolutely shocked and confused why somebody has his old Red X costume and how come they look way better in it than he does. It's just not fair. You're having fun bullying Damian and Jon, pushing those boys around like rag dolls as they try to take you down. Villain or hero, you're just in it for the fun, really. Sometimes, you will team up with the bats, but other than that, you’re ruining them. You trashed Bruce’s Batmobile on a joyride with some of your villain friends. Got to say, the kids at the H.I.V.E. really know how to party. You stole Jason’s motorcycles and modified them to match your whole Red X aesthetic. Tim literally hates you. Back when he had a crush on Connor, you were too busy flirting with him. You're messing around with Damian any chance you get, being the cooler older sibling that his teammates from the Teen Titans look up to—simply just bullying him because he's shorter. Wait until those Bruce Wayne genes kick in! But the funny thing is, none of them know you're actually Red X. You keep it hidden to the point where they honestly believe that you two are different people. And here you thought Bruce Wayne was a good detective; he doesn't even think his own kid is Red X! Last time you left your costume out in the open in front of Steph, you joked that it was for a cosplay. Thank goodness she was dumb enough to believe you. And being Red X, you can talk as much trash as you want. Duke is your permanent op when he signals, but you two are pretty indifferent about each other. You pick a fight with Cass every moment you get, having trouble learning your body language and fighting style. You're just so weird and confusing that she almost figured you out during a fight; you pretended to be weakened and hopeless just so she would get off your back. Idiots, I swear, it's fun being the outcast of the family.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[beholdthebangs]

No Touching

Sebastian x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Sebastian, hoping to participate in some escapism by taking his motorcycle out for a late-night ride, is instead talked into bringing you with him. How’s he supposed to long for you when you’re wrapped around him, hands all over him as he drives you through quiet highways? How’s he supposed to focus on anything else? Your persistence is maddening, but it also results in a little pit stop as Sebastian reaches his limit.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, choking, praise, smoking

A/N: Finally finished one of my oldest drafts, yay! This is fully the result of my instagram algorithm feeding me hot bikers, though I’ve only scratched the surface of the kinks those men have given me.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Some people cope with the constant onslaught of shit thrown at them with therapy. Some choose drugs, alcohol, sex, or violence. All Sebastian has ever needed is his motorcycle… and drugs, but mostly his motorcycle.

There’s nothing like the feeling of cool air hitting his face to break him out of a spiral. It’d been his coping mechanism ever since he got his motorcycle years ago and long rides had formed into a weekly habit so long as the weather allowed it. When he drove over to Zuzu City from his home in the mountains, he felt so distanced from this small town. The two places couldn’t be less alike, and there was pretty much no chance he would ever run into someone he knew. He could exist among so many people and blend in, not be perceived for just a moment. Those moments were rare in the valley.

More often than not, he wouldn’t venture out quite that far. Sebastian often preferred to wander down empty highways lit sparsely with street lamps, no destination in mind. On shorter drives, he’d leave his helmet and jacket behind and let his guard down, the feeling of rushing air tangling his hair, smacking him in the face and waving the fabric of his shirt around wildly somewhat of a treat for him. Because yeah, safety is important, but what is life without a little risk? Even without the fear of dying adding some exhilaration to the experience, it was always nice to get out of his house, outside of the somewhat suffocating atmosphere of the community he resided in, and have time to himself to just stop thinking so much. Many of the rides this year had been less about escaping the small town he lived in and more about escaping the racing thoughts he’d been burdened with… the thoughts he’d had ever since he met you.

So Sebastian carefully rolls his bike out of the garage and over the crunchy, fire-colored leaves littering the ground, preparing for another late-night ride. He gives the motorcycle a quick once-over, making sure it’s ready to go and brushing off some of the dust that had accumulated on the metallic black body with a soft rag. As he turns to dig his helmet out of the garage, he hears none other than the voice of his troubles.

“What are you up to?”

He turns back to see you only feet away, a palm running over the outside of the gas tank, the exact spot he’d just wiped down moments ago. It’s dark, long past the early autumn sunset, but the overhead light outside the front door lends just enough vision for him to make out your sweet smile. Your baby-blue worn jeans cling to your ankles, tucked into your black boots. Despite the seasonal chill, you wear a short sleeved shirt with a low neck. He supposes he can’t pass too much judgment as he also has a thin t-shirt on, but only until he can grab his jacket. Yoba knows facing the wind at highway speeds would feel brutal this time of year.

Retreating back through the open garage door, he tucks his matching helmet to his side. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to touch someone’s bike without asking?”

With a subtle roll of your eyes and a grin on your face, you pull back and cross your arms over your chest, the curve of your breasts growing more prominent with the motion. Sebastian struggles to pull his eyes away. “Where are you going?”

He shrugs. “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I want to go with.”

He takes the opportunity to rake his eyes down your body more egregiously. “You’re not dressed for it. You have short sleeves.” You look pointedly at his own arms, muscular and tattooed—and bare. “I’m going to put a jacket on,” he explains, exasperated. As if you should be clued in on his internal monologue. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he can’t help but act annoyed with you. You wear his patience thin so effortlessly.

“And you don’t own a second jacket?”

Sebastian hums, leaning against the wall behind him. “You really wanna go?”

“Yep. You promised you’d take me sometime.”

Seb shouldn’t be held to things he said when he was in a better mood. He’d been looking forward to cranking up the volume on his stereo and listening to some emo shit that would make his mom inquire about his mental health if he had done it in the comfort of his room. But here you are once again, ruining all his plans. Instead of snapping back, he simply turns away, grabbing two leather jackets and another helmet before pulling the garage door closed. Dropping all but his old leather jacket that had grown too small for him since he started helping his mom out with some manual labor woodworking projects, he holds it open for you. You turn your back to him, shimmying your arms through the sleeves with his help. He does the same with his own jacket, then sets a helmet on your head and straps it securely under your chin.

He lifts the visor up for you, revealing your eyes. “Do I look cool?” you ask with your hands shoved in the pockets of his worn jacket, his hands still lingering on your helmet.

Sebastian pauses then pulls back, looking at you at an arms length. While you tend to lack an edge in your appearance, the added apparel does bring something new to your vibe. “You look cool,” he finally confirms. Throwing his own helmet on, he asks, “Do I?”

You move closer, fumbling with his helmet and eventually pushing the visor up. Your eyes meet again, sharing a gaze Sebastian can’t deny the intensity of. Your fingers glide across the undone zipper of his jacket, gaze flickering down to break the contact. Finally you snarkily conclude, “No,” with a quick wink before moving away completely. Sebastian scowls, though he can’t help but take in a breath, your scent mixed with that of his old beloved jacket lagging behind as you close the distance with his bike. “Can I touch it?” you ask this time.

“You can touch it,” he answers quickly, because it doesn’t matter—you can touch whatever you want as long as it belongs to him. He’s intoxicated by the way you look and your scent mixed with his, something primal inside him feeling so possessive over you now that he’s marked you as his own in some way. He wants to tell himself to snap out of it, but Yoba does he like the thoughts clouding his head.

You climb carefully onto the back, leaving space for Sebastian to sit in front of you. He tugs on the sides of your borrowed jacket, zipping it up to your chin. As he takes his place, both of you swing your visors down. He starts the bike with a purr and the motion vibrates through your bodies. Even after all this time, Seb can feel the power of it between his legs, and he wonders what it feels like between yours, not used to the dull roar of the idle bike. He revs the engine a couple times and your arms fly around his torso, gripping him for dear life as he takes off down the dirt path toward the paved road.

Despite your presence, he does as he had set out to do and turns up his music, able to hear it clearly despite the wind rushing by his ears and the loud engine of his bike as you weave down the backroads. If he ignores the feeling of your tight grasp against his stomach and the heat of your chest pressed to his back, riding feels just like it always has. Part of him prefers not to ignore it though. He kind of likes the way you’re holding him like he’s your only hope.

Though he’d planned to go into the city, he cuts it short to avoid trapping you on his bike in case you’re not enjoying it, since it’s hard to check in over all the noise. Instead, he decides to head toward an overlook he loves going to, especially when he doesn’t have the time to drive all the way into the city or the patience to deal with all the people there. Pulling into the familiar dirt patch, he stops right where the trees thin to give a glimpse of the city from the top of the mountains. As he shuts off the engine, the quiet of the night is overwhelming. He’d grown so used to the noise of his bike and the blaring guitar through the speakers that the sound of dried rustling leaves in the wind and crickets chirping somewhere beyond the trees is a new, exposed feeling.

Seb climbs off, holding his hand out to assist you. You take it, wobbling on your feet as your body shivers. “You okay?” he questions, sliding the visor of his helmet up to see you better. All you can manage is a nod.

He slips the strap tucked under your chin undone, helping you pull the helmet off. Your hair is strewn wildly around your head, and though Sebastian is well aware of the curse of helmet hair, he can’t help but shake his head at how you manage to pull it off. You run a hand along your head in an attempt to tame your locks. Seb sets the helmet on his propped up bike before reaching over and combing his hand through your hair to gently pull the knots free. You freeze, eyeing him, but he doesn’t linger long enough to meet your gaze. Instead, he pulls his helmet off, resting it next to yours, and shakes his head wildly. His black hair flies around his face and instead of fixing his fringe to fall before his eyes, he simply pushes it back and it lays along either side of his head, shorter pieces framing the edges of his face. You’re still staring and he can feel it.

“What’d you think of the ride?” he inquires.

“Fast,” you breathe. He opens his mouth to apologize for his driving but is cut off. “Freeing. That was so fun.” He grins. You understand it. You understand him.

“It never gets old,” he assures you, turning to look out over the cliff at the city. You slowly move to stand next to him, facing the array of lights sticking out in the vast natural landscape. “Do you miss living there?”

You shake your head as Seb watches you from the corner of his eye. “It’s better in Pelican Town.”

Sebastian’s face falls. He can feel himself grasping onto the last of his dreams. He’d envisioned himself finding a cheap apartment, a new job that really fulfilled him, living life alone for a while. He’d never had the full autonomy to do whatever he wanted anytime he wanted. Maybe he’d meet new friends through work, or at a bar, and maybe he’d meet someone special, too. He’d thought it was surely more likely to happen in Zuzu City than the quaint town he’d spent so much time in where nothing ever changed. Until you.

“If I were you, I never would have left.”

“It’s not all it’s supposed to be,” you sigh. “I felt lonelier surrounded by all those people than I do now. No one cares about you here like they do at home.”

“Really?” You nod, but Seb shrugs. “I don’t think that would be the case for me.”

“You’d be surprised.” He turns to look at you, standing next to him in his old jacket, sleeves hanging past your wrists. “It’s hard to be someone when you’re in the city. You’ve already got so many friends and family in Pelican Town.”

“I’m just…looking for something more than that,” he admits.

“What more is there?”

He crosses his arms, turning back to the silhouette of the city. What more isn’t there? “I think it’s different for me here than it is for you. People talk to me because there’s a sense of obligation. My family didn’t choose me. My friends barely chose me, either. There are only so many kids running around the valley at once. If I can start something in the city, it’ll feel like I really earned it. I wouldn’t mind having someone to come home to every night, either.”

“Maybe you should look at it as fate. How amazing is it that these people you love all happen to be in a tiny little town where you are? That’s impressive.”

He notices the way you skirt around his last statement in particular. Maybe there’s no solace in that area that you can offer him. He pushes the gnawing feeling aside as much as he can. “I just think something will always feel like it’s missing as long as I stay.” Sebastian pulls out a cigarette, fumbling around in his jacket pocket to find his lighter. With a couple flicks, he lights the end and takes a deep breath before letting the smoke bleed out from between his lips. “So… you’re completely fulfilled now that you moved to Pelican Town, right?”

You chuckle. “Something like that.”

“What’s your secret?”

“I just got so busy that I didn’t have time to think about what I was missing anymore.”

He nods as if seriously considering that route. And honestly, it’s not that bad a plan. “And what are you missing?”

You hesitate, surveying the distant city as you speak. “It’s hard not to feel like an outsider. Everyone has known each other for so long that it’s hard to find an opening in a group, I guess.”

“I consider you a part of my friend group,” Seb replies.

“I am, but… it’s not the same. When people see you without Sam, they wonder where he is. No one looks at you without me and wonders where I am, you know?”

The idea warms his heart. Maybe it’s a little twisted of him—you’re pouring your insecurities out and he can’t help but think about the idea of you and him… so inseparable that it feels unnatural for you to be apart, even to others. “Are you trying to tell me you want to hang out more?”

You giggle. “Sure. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replace Sam.”

“I’m not looking for a replacement. There’s a lot that Sam can’t do for me.”

You quirk an eyebrow up, looking over to meet his gaze which hasn’t strayed from you in a while. He sucks in another drag from his cigarette. “Oh yeah? Like what?” He shrugs, refusing to elaborate further. He’s exposed himself plenty for one day and you’ve avoided that topic once in this conversation. He won’t make you do it again.

Sebastian finishes his cigarette, stomping it out and shoving the butt in his pocket to throw away when he gets home. “It’s getting late. We should head back.” He holds out your helmet before pulling on his own. When you spend too much time trying to tighten the strap, he makes quick work of it without another word before climbing on his bike and starting it back up. You climb on behind him and rest your palms on his chest, elbows draped over his shoulders. He takes off, the air a little thicker with tension than it had felt before. He can’t even begin to ignore the feel of you against his back, or the way your hands creep over the fabric of his t-shirt. Surely you can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest at the contact.

He turns over your discussion in his head, reading into the silence more than the words. If he were having a conversation with someone he had a romantic interest in (and he was), he would bring up romance. He’d lean into subtle flirtation. You didn’t. Maybe he should take it as an indicator that you don’t feel the same for him. That should be a relief. He’d spent the better part of his life planning and working, saving every cent he could to escape into the downtown only miles down the highway and leave the bleak, boring Pelican Town behind. Then you moved here and you began bothering him, gifting him cool rocks you’d found in the mines residing in his backyard, talking to him about whatever he pleased. The sound of footsteps scuffling down the wooden steps toward his bedroom always had him waiting with bated breath, hoping it would be you who swung the door open and interrupted his work. You made him smile and you made the stupid town feel alive.

He’s been conflicted between what he’s always wanted and what he wants right now. He’s stuck trying to figure out if you want it too. It would be so much easier to simply ask you what it is you’re searching for in spending time with him, but that’s far too exposing for the man’s taste. He could’ve pushed the point harder with you back there, but all the bad outcomes are too scary to make the elusive good outcome worth the risk. When faced with opportunity, he continually chooses the path of ignorance and coping with the consequences in favor of avoiding any uncomfortable conversations. And while he hates the feeling of unknown, he hates the idea of confrontation even more.

You pull away for a second and the fear of your hands leaving his torso scare him back into the moment. He can’t help the gasp of air he sucks in when your hands go to his thighs, running up and down the tight denim covering them. Your palm begins to venture a bit too close to his crotch for comfort and he grabs it, placing it on his stomach as if to silently ask you to just hold on. Surely you don’t understand what you’re doing, and the fact that he’s so head-over-heels for you doesn’t help his focus. Even now, fingers absentmindedly running over his abdomen, all the senses in his body are going crazy. Moving lower, lower, until they sneak below the hem and begin tracing over the line of hair on his stomach leading to the growing bulge in his pants.

“What are you doing?” he shouts over the wind and music, turning his head as much as possible while still keeping an eye on the road. Either you don’t hear him or you ignore him, because he gets nothing in return but the persistence of your fingers tracing imaginary lines over his abdomen. That’s not something a friend does. And here he was, wondering if you felt anything toward him.

He grips the handlebars hard, knuckles turning white with the force as he attempts to brush off your movements. His breathing is ragged, the skin of his abdomen burning under your fingertips. Without warning, Seb pulls off the road onto a side path that loops through the surrounding woods just outside Pelican Town. Once he comes to a stop, he kills the engine to avoid having to yell over the noise of it. Turning over his shoulder, he says, “New rule. No touching.”

“No touching?” you ask with a scoff. “That’s kind of difficult given the circumstances.”

“No…touching with your fingers,” he amends.

You undo the strap under your chin, pulling your helmet off and setting it on the ground as you climb to your feet. Standing to the side of Sebastian, you put your palms to the front of his shoulders and give him a small push, forcing him to lean back as he stares at you. The movement gives you enough space to climb on his lap, carefully straddling him. You push open his visor to reveal his eyes, wide as he tries to comprehend what you’re doing. You raise your hands as if to surrender. “So… this is allowed?”

He gulps, hoping the motion is hidden by his helmet obscuring most of his face. It must be so painfully obvious that the game you’re playing is having the desired effect on him, your heat pressed right on his bulge. Sebastian reaches out and grabs your hips, excusing the action as helping you stabilize yourself as you balance yourself precariously on his bike.

“That’s not allowed,” you tsk, tapping his fingers pressed into the skin of your side.

“The rules don’t apply to me,” he mutters, hardly able to form words at this point.

“No?” Seb shakes his head, not able to meet your eye as he looks at your chest so close to his face. “What are you going to do with that privilege?”

His mouth opens but no sound comes out. You reach over and unstrap his helmet, helping him out of it and dropping it at the wheels of the motorcycle. He’s dumbfounded and he certainly looks it, gazing up at you with your hair highlighted by the dim streetlight making its way between the trees separating you from the main road. “I wasn’t completely honest before,” you admit. “I’m missing more than just acceptance. I’m missing romance… and sex.”

“Sex,” he repeats, like he needs to say it to confirm that it’s correct. Like you surely had said something else and he’d just misheard you.

“Sex. I’m missing the excitement of some hot, surprisingly muscular,” your hand slips under his jacket, feeling his biceps through the thin cotton of his shirt, “tattooed bad boy underneath me.”

“You have a type?” he chuckles, hands slowly moving around your waist to rest on your ass.

“I do now.”

Sebastian tilts his chin up, looking down his nose at you through half-lidded eyes. His pupils are dark, part of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, the skin around it turning white with the pressure he places on the delicate skin. All of his energy is being used to resist; this isn’t the time or place. He’s never thought of you as a one night stand and the expectations for your first time together had always been much more romantic. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent countless nights rubbing a load out onto his stomach thinking about all the ways he’d fuck you. Because Yoba does he want to right now. But he’s a romantic underneath all the longing and hormones and he can’t make love to you in the middle of the woods and risk someone coming across it. He can’t.

Your head dips down just slightly, just enough to look at him through your long eyelashes. Your lips are pouted, so soft and pink and ready for his. Your tongue darts out just for a moment, running over your bottom lip, and that’s it.

“Fuck it.” His hand reaches toward you, fingers on the back of your neck while his palm cradles your cheek, and he has just enough grip to pull you down to crash his lips against yours. He’s respectful at first, giving you open-mouthed kisses but keeping his tongue to himself, satisfied with tasting the sweet spit from your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your tongue wander into his mouth and that boundary leaves him. It’s even better this way, able to explore the inside of your mouth and overpower you though you have the upper hand, remaining on his lap. His fingers curl into the fat of your ass, moving you back and forth over his hardening cock restrained by denim, teasing him as he aches for more. Your little moans as his pants provide friction against your clothed clit only fuel him, and he’s sure nothing exists in the world besides you right now as his hips rise to meet yours.

Sebastian parts with you, one palm pressing to the center of your chest as he carefully pushes you back until you’re lying over the gas tank, head tilted up toward the twinkling stars illuminating the night sky. He unzips the leather jacket and lets himself feel over your torso through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. Over your hips, your waist, your stomach, the curves of your breasts. His hand settles loosely around your neck, strained as you’re stretched over his bike. He won’t apply pressure. He just needs to see how good you look with his veiny hand serving as your necklace. He’d cum imagining you in similar positions before but it’s even better than he ever thought. “You’re so beautiful.”

You look down your body at him. “You’re so hot.”

“Thanks, babe.” Pulling back, he pats the side of your thigh and you climb off him with his help. He follows, propping his bike on the kickstand and backing you into a tree only a few feet off the dirt path. His height now aids him in taking charge, looking down at you, both breathing heavily before reconnecting. Your foot slides up the side of his leg and he grabs underneath your knee, pinning it at his hip as he grinds into you. Seb’s fingers are looped into your hair, tangling into it and using it to pull you impossibly close.

His lips begin to wander. They leave sloppy, wet kisses down your chin to your neck, lingering in certain spots so long that he’s expecting you to swat him away, but you don’t. You let him mark you in such an exposed place and it drives him crazy to know that you’re going to have to go to great lengths to hide the evidence from everyone in town or show them what you let him do to you. His teeth nip at your skin until you’re whimpering, back arched against the thick trunk behind you. He moves his attacks downward, lifting the hem of your shirt under the leather jacket he lent you. Seb peppers kisses over the top of your breasts for a moment before pushing your bra up, adding it to the fabric bunched up in his hand and exposing your tits. He has to distance himself for just a moment to take in the view of your nipples, taut in the cool air of the night, surrounded by the leather of his old jacket. He couldn’t have imagined a more amazing sight if he tried. You’re biting on your lip as he surveys you, and Yoba, he could bust in his pants right now. He could die happy right now.

But he takes into consideration your anxious mewls and moves back in, licking circles around your nipples and letting the cool air meet the hot saliva he leaves on them before finally taking one in his mouth and sucking, flicking his pierced tongue over the bud and basking in the sounds you make in response. His other hand unbuttons your jeans and slips inside, over your panties, tracing over your slit. Even without putting any pressure on it, he can feel the wet fabric and he wants to sink his fingers inside and feel you. The only thing more appealing is to wait until you’re desperate for it.

Your fingers run through his hair, pulling on the messy strands as you arch into his mouth, grinding your hips on his hand in hopes of finding some much needed friction. Sebastian holds out on you for as long as he can bear, paying close attention to your other nipple as he runs his digit lightly over your covered clit. Falling to his knees, he licks a long line down your stomach, past your belly button and lands at the waistband of your jeans. You pull your bra back over your breasts to cover yourself, his head no longer blocking the view from anyone who may wander across this quiet backroad, but Sebastian stops in his tracks. “Mm-mmm, keep your tits out.”

“What if someone sees?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper. He can’t hold back a laugh as you pretend you haven’t been moaning with no regard to the noise level for the past few minutes.

“You chose to do this here,” he retorts. “That’s the risk.”

“Sebby,” you whine pleadingly. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, hoping the blush spreading over his face isn’t obvious to you.

“Haven’t you figured out that I’m making the rules?” He gets back on his feet, helping you out of his jacket despite your weak protests. He pulls off your shirt and unhooks your bra, pulling the straps down your arms. You’re clearly afraid he’s going to leave you completely exposed as a consequence of your earlier action, but he’s not that mean. He lets you slide his jacket back on, and though your nipples are still out for his viewing, at least you can cover yourself should any onlookers pass by. Though the risk of being caught does add to the blood throbbing through his dick, he isn’t about to share such a beautiful sight with anyone else.

You accept your fate without complaint and, satisfied, Sebastian kneels back down in front of you and slides your jeans down your legs. You step out of them with his help, left in your wet panties before him. He can’t help but let his tongue glide over your clothed slit, able to get a taste of you through it and his eyes roll back for a moment. You ask him to touch you as if he has any self control left, already pushing your panties aside and laying his tongue flat over your clit, flicking the tip against it as you let out a strangled moan, taken aback by the speed at which he works. The sweet wetness is heavenly and his middle finger slips into you, curling toward himself as he feels your slick pussy envelope his digit. Sebastian could eat you out forever so long as you continue to fill his ear with those pathetic whimpers, so completely under his control and eager to have given it over to him.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into you, adding a second finger and pumping it in and out, wet leaking down his palm with the additional finger forcing your pussy to squeeze around him. He helps you lift your leg over his shoulder, boot hanging down his back as your otherwise bare leg drapes across his body. The change allows him to reach deeper, his tongue swirling over your heat faster, mixed with eager sucks and nips at your clit with careful consideration for the placement of his tongue piercing as you go a little wilder each time the silver ball drags across your swollen bud. You hold his face to you, fingers tugging at his hair as if that’s what keeps him nose-deep in your sweet cunt. Your hips writhe on top of him, riding his fingers and his talented mouth as if it’s the only thing that has ever mattered. Sebastian is pretty sure that’s true.

The way your body jolts forward, head hanging over his, it’s obvious you’re on the edge of orgasm. Your delicate pink walls suck his fingers in, the pads of his digits stuck to the spot inside you that makes your toes curl as he frantically flicks his tongue across your clit. The force of the knot in your stomach coming undone requires Sebastian to continue working your cunt while he holds you up against the tree, keeping you on your foot despite your trembling leg threatening to collapse beneath you. When you release his hair, obviously expecting him to pull back, you yelp as his assault on your clit and g-spot continues. “Seb!” you gasp out.

“Behave,” he coos, pulling away just long enough to get the words out. Your core, hypersensitive as you try to come down from such an intense high, isn’t taking Seb’s tongue as well as it was before. Your hips buck wildly, pinned to the tree with your leg still stuck over the man’s taut shoulder. Strangled whimpers leave your parted lips and he can’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he hears you struggle to follow orders. You have a tendency to be sassy with him, but fuck does it turn him on to see you so sweet, so eager to please him now that he’s gotten you naked and dripping. Sebastian slowly, painstakingly pulls his fingers from your tight hole, leaving your clit with a sloppy kiss and sets your other foot back on the ground before pulling himself back up to stand before you.

He takes his jacket off, throwing it in the direction of his bike. Lifting his shirt, he wipes his mouth off, sweet slick of your pussy being collected by the soft black cotton of it before he pulls it over his head and tosses it away. Sebastian’s pupils are blown out as he licks his lips, looking down at you. Despite eating you out for as long as you could bear, he still has a hunger apparent to both of you.

He ducks his head down, lips inches from yours as he looks between them and your big, pure eyes. “Let’s give those legs a break, yeah? Did so good for me.”

You nod hesitantly, eyelids fluttering closed as he closes the gap to kiss you and let you taste the remnants of mess you left on his face. The feeling of Sebastian’s hands under your knees is the only warning he gives you before pulling upward. You scramble to catch yourself but soon realize he’s got a tight grip on you, using the tree trunk to aid him. Your pussy, panties having slid back into place, sits against the denim-clad bulge Sebastian sports. He can practically feel you wet his jeans with your first orgasm and can’t pass up the opportunity to hump into you as his tongue fights itself between your lips.

“Need you,” you pant between heated nips.

Sebastian shifts your weight into one arm, using his newly freed hand to clumsily unbutton his jeans and slide his thumb into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down just enough to free himself from the restraints. He pulls your panties to the side and runs his length between your lips. He could melt from the warmth running over his cock and seemingly spreading into his stomach. Waiting another second feels so impossible so he makes quick work of lifting you another couple inches and positioning his thick tip at your entrance, letting you slip back down into his arms as his cock pushes its way between your silky walls.

Sebastian lets out a moan brewing deep in his throat. He’d spent hours alone in his bed imagining this moment with you and while it’s so much different than he’d ever thought it would be, the sight of your chest heaving under his leather jacket, your hair messy from the bark of the tree trunk behind you, and the heavenly way your cunt squeezes around him is something he would never wish to change. Your gasp as he slides in is a sound that will reverberate around his brain for days. Pulling his hips back, he thrusts into you again and holds you tight to him, lingering as he’s bottomed out inside you.

“You feel so good,” he whimpers against your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut so you can’t see them rolled back. “Fuck, why’d we wait so long to do this?”

“You wouldn’t make a move.”

Sebastian thinks back to all the times he felt he was pretty overt with you, coming back nearly empty-handed. Maybe he had hidden it all more than he thought. “I’ll make a move in the future,” he instead promises. You giggle. “Thought about your cunt for so long.” Sebastian sets his pace, nice and slow so he can bask in the feel of how wet you are, how your warmth pulls him in as his hips grind against your thighs.

“As good as you imagined?”

“So much better.”

You wrap your arms tight around Sebastian’s neck, fingers dragging along the taut skin of his upper back as you kiss him. He’s lost all restraint now, content in giving you messy kisses as he fucks into you. And while he wishes he could tell you over and over how sexy you look in nothing but his old leather jacket, how tight you are around his cock, how bad he’s craved this since he met you, he’d rather let you shut him up like this. Even though he’s fighting back an orgasm, desperate to prolong this moment as long as possible, he lets himself take in the sensation of this thing he’d dreamed about for months.

“Feels so goood,” you whine, chest heaving as you press the back of your head to the tree trunk behind you. Your hair is tangling into the bark as he thrusts into you, body bouncing and grinding on his cock like you were made for it. Having you in his grasp like this has Sebastian’s mind spinning. He’s losing himself to lust, even more than before, and all the dirty things he’s done to you in his mind are swirling around and fuck, he’s just gonna do it.

He pulls out, carefully setting you down with your boots flat on the ground. You look inquisitively at him, almost like you’re afraid to ask if he’d cum yet. He chuckles to himself a little. So timid, when just a few minutes ago, you were trying to grab his dick through his jeans as he was driving you 80 miles an hour down the highway on a bike. “C’mere,” he gestures, walking back to the dirt path where his motorcycle remains propped up with the kickstand. He tests it with a heavy hand, trying to wobble it back and forth. Not much movement, even despite it being settled on soil. As you walk up behind him, he wraps an arm around your waist, slipped under the jacket you still wear, and leans down for a kiss before spinning you to stand in front of him and pressing on your lower back until you’re ass-up, bent over the seat of his shiny black bike.

Sebastian runs a hand down your side, leaning into you as he works to position his cock between your slightly parted thighs. “You like the bad-boy look so much, with the piercings and tattoos and motorcycle… well, I thought maybe you’d wanna get fucked on it. Huh?”

He can practically hear your nervous swallow. Just as he positions his tip at your tight hole do you nod, moaning as he pushes himself inside from behind. His eyes roll back as the feel of your tight cunt envelopes him again, feeling so much deeper now. Your moans are heavier like he’s hitting the little spot inside you and as he stands, he admires how sexy you look and how nice your ass presses against his hips with every thrust, peaking out from under the oversized jacket. You grab onto the top of the bike, anywhere you can get a grip, stabilizing yourself against his harsh movements. Seb grabs your hips, pulling you back in time to meet his. The only thing that could make this better is if you’d kept your helmet on, but fuck, your pretty little face looking over your shoulder, lips parted, isn’t something he could bear to cover even for the sake of his fetish.

Staring at you does nothing to stave off his orgasm, so he instead accepts his defeat and leans into it. His chest presses to your back, one hand snaking its way over your hipbone to rub at your clit while the other takes hold of your neck again. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just needs to keep you close as he speeds up and coaxes out his orgasm. “Gonna be thinking about this for a long time,” he says with a breathy laugh, still in shock that he’s got you in this position out in the middle of nowhere. “Can you be a good girl and cum on my cock right now?” You whine, incoherent, but Seb doesn’t ask you to repeat it. He instead attaches his teeth to the tender spot on your neck already bruised from earlier. You grind back against him, your volume far past reasonable as you whimper his name and groan with every thrust.

Seb finally slows, taking his time to feel you pulse around his throbby length, finally holding tight to your neck as you gasp out for him. “Come f’r me, babe, fuck! That feels so good. M’ gonna cum, too. Keep goin’, keep squeezing my cock.” Seb buries his face into your hair, heavy breaths warming your neck as you cum and only a moment later, he’s nearly frozen inside you as spurts of cum shoot from his pink tip toward your cervix. “Shit, baby…. Your cunt is so fucking amazing.”

When he’s thoroughly milked his cock with your pussy, he pulls out, excruciatingly slow. The rush of white that floods out of you as he tucks his cock back into his boxers and rezips his jeans threatens to reset him, primal urges flooding his brain as he watches it drip down your thighs while you push yourself back up to stand. Seb steals one last stroke down your body before letting his palm settle on your ass, giving it one little smack before you turn to him, on your tiptoes to rest a peck to his lips. “That was fun,” you giggle.

“I’ve got a lot more to say about it than ‘fun,’” he nudges back. “Why don’t you stay undressed and I’ll drive us back like this?” You elbow him, walking past him to retrieve your clothing strewn about the ground. He watches you redress, trying to take in every moment of your exposed skin that he can since you refuse to live a little and ride naked down the little bit of highway left between here and home. Once you’re clothed again, he’s ready with your helmet, holding it over your head as you stand in front of him. He takes a kiss before sliding it on and securing the strap under your chin. He quickly does the same for himself, climbing on the bike and starting it up while you settle in behind him.

“No funny business this time,” Sebastian shouts over the motor.

“Can’t hear you,” you sing back, wrapping your arms over his stomach as he rolls his eyes, unable to stifle the goofy grin all across his face.

So Sebastian drives the remaining ten minutes home, going speed limit the entire way because your body feels better against his back than the enjoyment of an extra 30 miles per hour of wind hitting his torso. He pulls up to the garage in front of his house, turning the bike off and helping you out of your helmet. The temperature has dropped substantially since you’d first left, seemingly gone unnoticed at your little pit stop as you’d both been preoccupied with other things. “You can keep the jacket for now,” Seb offers, “as long as you go on another drive with me sometime.”

You reach out, shaking his hand to accept the proposition. “Give me a day and time. I’ll be there.”

“Want me to walk you home?”

You shake your head. “It’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “…Do you want to come inside?”

You blush, enough for Seb to see even in the moonlight. “I don’t know if I have the energy to do that again. I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out the second my head hits the pillow.”

“I’m happy to sleep if you are.” After all that, Seb certainly needs a substantial rest and truthfully, he just wants to get you in his bed and snuggle into you all night. “Plus, I can help you out with all those marks on your neck in the morning.”

“Wh—“ You lean over, looking into the side mirror of the motorcycle to examine your neck, quickly spotting the purpling bruise forming on the side. Seb’s pretty sure he can see the indent of his teeth embedded somewhere in there. You stand up, lips pressed together but you’re clearly hiding a smirk. “Fine. I’ll sleep here if you cover up your mess.” Seb sticks his hand out, shaking yours again to concede to your terms. They’re more than fair.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Invisible: Hermione x Reader {Blurb}

WolfStar!Slytherin!werewolf!Reader x Hermione

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, reader is a bit of a mess, insults, Hermione hit the reader a few times (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 2199

{Y/N} Lupin had never been invisible. Even on days you tried to be, the whispers and eyes still followed you through the halls. See, you were a bit too much like your father, Sirius. You styled like him. Every weekend, his old leather jacket, hair dyed a deep jet black, nails to match. Minnie would say you had the attitude, more in for a thrill then the consequence. Snape would say your grades were like his as well, just enough to pass and just engaged enough to not be called out. Not that you didn't relish in the attention and laughs you got when a teacher tried to reprimand you, and a very Sirius-like comment or two later, the classroom was full of snickering juveniles and you had one more detention on your record. A record, your father, for the life of him, couldn't tell you what it was for. He got an amazing job as an Auror straight out of school despite it all. If that wouldn't usually keep people a good distance away from you, you had the mind of your dad. Methodical and exact, Remus gifted you a weapon no one could quite match. Well.. until you met her.

Hermione Granger.

You see, nothing good could come of a troublemaker, unless they were a Gryffindor. If your reputation wasn't enough, your rule of kiss and tell would be. You were quite popular with the girls and guys of your year. You knew what they wanted and you entertained it. You understood who you were, a Slytherin, a delinquent, someone so bad yet irresistible. No one stayed later than a week or two, you never blamed them. When they got to know you, when they knew you weren't some fantasy written heart throb, their interest was lost. 

You liked to pretend it didn't hurt. It was good fun now and again, but every time someone stopped coming around you were reminded just what it was. Just the perfect amount of hurt and vulnerability for the next one when they came round. Your coping mechanism was the same thing hurting you, and you became cruel about it. 

You spent most of your days with Theodore Nott, a boy with much the same reputation. Complaining to each other just to fill the silence. If your parents knew you associated with the boy, there would be a riot. A Death Eater’s son, someone you trusted more with the secrets of your heart than your own father.

“So Snape says I have to stay in this Hogsmeade trip to study. Roped some poor third year into helping me.” You groaned and Theodore snickered at this. “Has the toad even seen your grades?”

“Bloody doubt it.” You huffed and took a drag of your cigarette. “Just hope it's not some brat, you know? Odd I have to study with someone younger.” You mumbled and handed the stick over to Nott, but it was intercepted by a pale delicate hand. 

Some girl, maybe only 14 years old, snatched the bud from your hand and dropped it on the cobbled floor. Stepping on it with a huff. She turned to you with a vicious smile. “How very kind of you for being early. Names Granger. Hermione Granger.” She held her hand out and you looked her up and down in annoyance. 

“Don't tell me you're the person who is supposed to assist me.” You scoffed and she smiled brightly. Clearly there was some hidden malice there. You were shocked a Gryffindor of all houses had chosen to throw away her weekend to 'help’ you. 

You huffed and took her hand, shaking it firm before she walked past you. You apologized to Theodore and began to follow her. 

That's how the unlikely dynamic began. That day you did everything in your power to get under her skin, and she yours. You would flirt with her, make crude jokes, ignore the work at any cost. She would badger you with questions you were sure the little lion didn't even know herself.

Your goal was to get her to leave you alone. But she refused.

Every time you were forced to detention study, there she was. It was like torture. You wanted to curse Snape’s very existence, but also thank him on your hands and knees for the opportunity. In normal circumstances, you would never have been able to even talk to Granger. She was so wrapped up in Harry -the chosen one- Potter and Ron -just stop whining- Weasley, you didn't even think about her much. 

That was your downfall, of course. You don't think of yourself as someone to fall, especially for an underclassman, but Merlin she was magnetic. Just enough sass and spunk, a bit of a smart ass but it left you wanting more. You tested the water a few times, but when Summer came around and you were sent home to your dads, you didn't send a letter, neither did she.

You and Hermione’s relationship was purely for studying. You knew there were people in your life that were made for certain times, and Hermione was made for quiet library rendezvous. For whispered flirts and cheeky comments between paragraphs. For daunting questions and electric praise. You just wished you could spend all year between those book pages, knee to knee, pretending nothing outside the library mattered. That you both weren’t helplessly over your heads.

That summer was hell, it felt like you were going through withdrawals. It's likely what it was, considering you wouldn't dream of bringing a smoke into your home. Sirius had a nose for that sort of thing. Though it seemed in your current state all you could think of was the fluffy haired girl. Even when you met some muggles to party with over the summer, even when you met up with some of your wix friends, you had fun but kept thinking about her beautiful eyes. It didn't help that you spent almost every weekend and full moon at the Potter’s, and your aunt Lily behaved so much like Hermione it terrified you. Especially since you were no James Potter.

It was pathetic, you decided. When the next school year came around, you did everything in your power to avoid her. Even getting good grades. Then, like some sick twisted joke, the Yule ball came. Everyone was pairing up and you didn't have the heart to stomach being around Hermione. You knew she wasn't someone to gloat or ramble on about the more feminine things in life, but even if it was just a passing comment you knew you wouldn't be able to take it. Knowing who was going to be whisking her off her feet all night, staring into her playful eyes, getting to see the caged bird fly, when you refused to beg for the key. You knew you weren't worth such a luxury. Hermione Granger was made for people like Krum, a famous Quidditch star, or a boy like Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Even Ron Weasley, a pureblood with a huge family with no real baggage. One that would allow her wings to spread and give her the freedom in her life. 

You caught yourself, thinking with such longing for her was vexing. You never found yourself thinking about forever. Not with anyone, until you met her. What good could you do for her? All you could truly offer was your father’s family’s blood money, your horrid reputation, and your werewolf blood. You knew how the world saw you, considering your father just quit last year because he was one.

When the night came, you and Theodore decided to go together. Most of the night was spent dancing with people who came alone, or each other, even drinking spiked juice when the weird sisters started up. Your eyes locked with Hermione’s, on complete accident. Your breath hitched when you saw her blissful smile turn to a look of hurt and disconnection. Your face fell, whatever joke Nott was on about with the girls you were with went silent on your ears. 

“Hey, man, I need some air.” You muttered to him, still holding Hermione’s eyes. Nott waved you off and you finally broke eye contact and hurried out of the hall.

You grabbed your suit’s coat on the way out. You were wearing a muggle suit, just a white button up, a green vest, black tie, and of course the black coat. You rushed to fix the coat around your sides as you began to turn down the hall. Getting as far away from them as possible.

“Don't you dare!” You heard a shout from behind you. You turned sharply on your heel at the familiar voice. You had never heard it so painful. You locked eyes with Hermione and she stalked toward you. You took a sharp breath and got ready for the first conversation you would have with her from the entire year. “What is your problem!?” She yelled at you.

“Hm? What's wrong, otter?” You played coy and pushed your hair back. You gave her your best smile, but from the look in her eyes you could tell it wasn't working. She scoffed at you and threw her gloves at your chest.

“You,,, You selfish git! I knew I should have listened to everyone! You're nothing but a scoundrel!” She shouted at you, in between shoves to your chest that got weaker as tears filled her eyes. You were stunned, jaw slack and trying to figure out just what to say in this moment.

You eventually grabbed her wrists and cooed at her to take a breath. It broke your heart to see her like this. “Come on now, you know I hate seeing pretty girls cry.” You mused and she huffed. “Don't call me that.”

“What? Otter or Pretty girl?” You asked and she huffed. 

“Both! You don't get to after what you've done!” Her shouts filled the empty hall. You grimaced and sighed. 

“Listen-”

“No! You listen to me!” She shouted over you and you quickly nodded. “I have spent my time at Hogwarts thinking I was invisible. I did my best, I got top grades, and the second people began to notice they acted like I was some kind of disease! Like I was just some arrogant cocky Muggle born who didn't deserve to be here.”

“You do-”

“It’s my turn Lupin!” She cut you off again and you nodded, putting her gloves in your pocket and leaning forward to try and dry her eyes. She leaned into your hands and it calmed her instantly. “I felt so out of place. I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then I met you,” She whispered and stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around your middle and she hid her face in your suit. “When I talked, you listened. When I asked you answered. You sought me out.. You made me feel like you wanted me around. Like I was special.”

You looked down at her in surprise.

“You were the first person to show me what that felt like. Everyone warned me that you were just a cruel flirt. And I guess they were right. I don't know what I thought, I see the girls you've had before, All pretty and done up, so bold and confident. I didn't even get the luxury to say I lost you like they have. Because I never had you. You never wanted me. You're cruel, {Y/N} Lupin.” She sniffled.

Your eyes were wide and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. Pulling her close into your chest you allowed yourself to press your nose to her hair. You let her cry in frustration in your arms. Not stopping her when she would occasionally hit your side with her closed fist. 

“Say something.” She begged pathetically, sniffling into your chest.

“... I have been torturing myself for months, thinking I wasn't worth your time, Hermione.” You admitted, voice dripping in shame. She scoffed and you pulled some of her hair behind her ear.

“Rubbish.”

“It's true.” You cooed in a playful tone. Pressing your chin to her head. “I was so wrapped up in the idea that you didn't want me back, Otter.”

Her sniffles slowly died out, she pulled back and looked you in the eye. You grabbed her cheeks again and leaned in closer. Your lips were a few inches from each other. You could feel her breath brush your lips. “You wanted me?”

“I want you.” You corrected and leaned in closer. She closed her eyes and her breath hitched. You stared at her, admiring her in the moonlight. You usually hated the moon and what it did to your family, but right now, you couldn't think of a better color for her. Your thumb traced her cupid’s bow and she huffed. “I am still mad at you, Lupin. So I’ll give you a choice.” She whined up at you and you smirked.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Kiss me or walk me back.”

You laughed and moved closer, your eyes lidding. “That’s a big gamble you're making there.” You breathe and she only smirks. “I like my odds.”

[sttoru]

𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i��ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

[hauntingmisery]

i know stobotnik dynamic’s been established in the fandom since day 1 and sunshine/moon is a classic for a reason but. just think about it for a second 

there’s almost nothing we know about pre-canon and pre-working together stobotnik. ivo jokes about being an orphan (jokes as coping mechanism let’s gooo) a couple of times and lee mentioned seeing stone as an orphan as well, both of them being very lonely and detached from human connections since childhood thus becoming very dependent on each other 

we also know how much of a competent badass stone is in that second movie prequel comic 

so imagine younger agent stone – no family, excellent military/espionage training, the next smartest person in the room after robotnik, cynical and cold 

and ivo – expressive attention seeking clown that probably got so much government funding by being the loudest robotnik in history, enjoying all the tiptoeing from the generals that feeds his ego on daily basis 

walters moves in mysterious ways, not god-like but more of a way too nosy grandfather-like. we can only imagine why he approved of the idea to get them to work together 

stone’s first day? 

robotnik is excited to show off his superiority in the rudest way possible, maybe even prepares a couple of new insults, confident to scare off yet another stupid little ant (so what if agent’s file is completely classified, nothing robotnik hasn’t seen before, that’s the line of work they’re in after all) 

agent stone is not easily impressed. he’s got blood on his hands, he changed so many identities he doesn’t know who he is anymore. and he feels so numb inside that he’s not even interested in finding out. so he’s not impressed by insults 

he is, however, impressed by something else, don’t worry 

robotnik’s seen as a robot by everyone around him. but robot is something that works for human, does what it’s told, no questions asked. that’s the opposite of ivo robotnik. stone is much closer to that definition 

and robotnik is easy. few cups of coffee, a compliment here and there, pretend to be less smart than you actually are so he gets an ego boost, ask something so he can yapp your ears off, sort his emails, call generals basic and boom – you got yourself perfectly functioning and somewhat satisfied evil genius 

now back to the impressive part: robotnik is impulsive to the point he’s awfully honest. his needs are very loud and oh isn’t it addictive to be needed for the first time in your life. he pokes stone for attention so hard it’s almost cute 

stone starts to smile and laugh, not just polite or passive aggressive way but genuinely happy to see robotnik goofing around 

robotnik picks up stone’s paranoia about security, thinks twice before spilling his biggest ambitions to the government, but invites stone to see his private ruling-the-world vision board

im not saying they changed each other for the better cause. you know. a villain and an enabler. but they definitely made each other happier

we saw how shocked ivo was when he realised someone actually cared about him. imagine what could’ve happened if he knew how much of an impact he had on another person himself. okay i’ll go cry in my corner now 

anyway tldr: they match each other’s freak and we are happy for them

[marauder-misprint]

hii! could you please write a remus x reader angst, (the ending being good or bad is up to you :D) where the reader has a werewolf phobia due to past experiences? and after a lesson which involved the werewolf topic, reader says some hurtful words, obviously not on purpouse, but remus gets distanced / upset and later reader finds out why??

Did I just have a bad day or is the angst so good that I brought myself to tears writing it? You tell me.

Thank you for the request ❤︎

Werewolf prejudice

Remus Lupin x reader

3k words

cw: angst, Dead Sibling, angst, no happy ending

One of the things you had in common with your friend group was how you didn’t talk about your past or your homelife all that often. James was the most open about his, being that he came from a loving and safe home, a home that he said was open to all of them. Peter, Marlene and Mary all had similar stories, a decent enough family that they didn’t despise going back to over breaks. The rest avoided the topic. From what you knew, Remus moved around a lot as a child so nowhere really felt like home except for Hogwarts, Sirius loathed his family to the point of running away and taking the Potters up on their offer to be his new family, and Lily loved her family but her sister had gained a distaste for her. 

Your parents were intense. So intense to the point where Hogwarts was the only place where you felt free and able to relax. You knew your parents meant well, but it was a lot. They put all of their expectations on you, and you could only try your best to graze them. After all, you were trying to live up to the aspirations they had for your older brother. Your older brother who was buried six feet deep. 

In all honesty, you didn’t remember the night all that well. A therapist said your body was repressing the horrid memories as a coping mechanism. They had said it was probably for the better. But because the memory was fragmented in your mind, no one would risk casting Obliviate on you. What you did know is that a werewolf had killed your brother when he was eight years old, you witnessed it and were scratched but managed to survive. And so, you hated any and all conversations about siblings, your childhood, your scars and werewolves. 

“You with us?” Marlene asked as she threw a piece of candy at you from where she sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the common room. 

You blinked, looking around the room. You were sitting on the floor among your friends. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I’m with you.”

“So… how was your Christmas?” Mary asked, holding up her hands to catch a candy that Marlene was sending her way.

“It was fine. Nothing too special,” you said uninterested. 

It was fine. It wasn’t special. It was a lot of your parents nagging you about grades and applications to internships that you had no desire to partake in. The actual holiday was lackluster. There was the usual family meal and exchanging of gifts. You received a quill, shoes and some chocolate. It wasn’t anything to brag about, not when James had come back with a new broom and Sirius had several new vinyls that he was going to play on repeat until they all knew the words. 

“Ugh, boring,” Marlene groaned. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything fun over break?”

“We went to a-” James started to say before Lily cut him off. 

“A professional quidditch match and got to meet some of the players, we know.”

“No need to be jealous, Evans. You could’ve come with, you know,” James said, smirking at her. 

“I’m good,” she said firmly.

“Was fun though,” Remus said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Shame the rest of you couldn’t come.” 

When Remus looked your way, you gave him a sad smile. You had received the invite, but your parents wouldn’t allow you to go, especially not when it was four boys going and no other girls. You argued that James’ parents would be there and if they let you go, maybe the other girls’ parents would let them go. No luck. So the boys got to meet famous players and you got to hear about it. 

“Rem, rest of your break good?” Mary asked.

He nodded with a hum. It was typical of him to not go into detail. 

“My sister came back from France! Was good to see her,” Peter said. 

You leaned back against the armchair Mary was sitting in, letting your eyes close. You listened to Peter recall the adventures his older sister had working for Beauxbaton. He noted that her French was getting so much better, although he said he couldn’t really be a judge of that being he didn’t speak it himself. 

“I can be the judge of that. Next time you write her, tell her I say bonjour,” Sirius said slyly. 

“You will not be flirting with my sister through my letters!” Peter gasped, causing the group to laugh. 

The peace that being with your friends brought you took over your senses. It was refreshing. Soon enough, one by one, your friends turned in for bed. You took Marlene’s spot on the couch after she left, putting you next to Remus. He moved his arm, which had been resting on the back on the couch, to be around your shoulder. As if it were second nature, you leaned into his side with a deep breath. 

Yes, it really had been a shame that you weren’t able to go to the quidditch match.

“So your break was fine?” he asked in a low voice when it was just the two of you left of your group. 

You sighed loudly as you gazed into the dying fire. 

“Grilled about grades, denied seeing my friends and best present were shoes,” you said dryly. “Yours?”

“Quidditch was definitely the highlight of it,” he said, sounding just as disappointed in his break as you did. 

“Wish I could’ve gone,” you grumbled, making Remus give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

“Me too,” he whispered.

Then you fell into a comfortable silence. You listened to the crackling of the embers and Remus’ steady breathing. You don’t know when your friendship with him started to feel like there might be a chance for something more. It was moments like this that heightened that feeling - his arm around you fueling the warmth inside your chest. The two of you had exchanged gifts before leaving on break and broke down into uncontrollable fits of laughter when you realized you bought each other the same book, saying ‘I heard it was good.’ (It was good. You wrote each other about every chapter.)

Remus nudged you awake. The fire was reduced to barely glowing coals and the entire common room had emptied out. 

“I think it’s time for bed, love,” he said.

You groaned but nodded, helping him up off the couch once you had stood up yourself. You bid each other goodnight before heading to your respective dorms. 

---

The professors wasted no time in getting back into the swing of things. You felt like you didn’t get to hang out with your friends as much as you wanted to with the piles of homework the professors assigned. You saw the most of Lily and Remus as they would join you in the library for hours on end. At least Professor Grimiski, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, took the first week to review some of the spells you learned in the fall term. 

“Now that we’ve finished the fall review, we will be moving into a deep dive about werewolves,” he told the class. 

You shifted uncomfortably next to Lily, unable to Remus slouch in his chair as he braced for the worst. Werewolves had been discussed in your previous years and you had managed to suffer through those lessons. You had a few nightmares after those lessons, but you were able to push through it. 

“Let’s see what you remember. Can anyone tell me some defining characteristics?” 

“Murderous, bloodthirsty, horrid,” you listed off under your breath.

“What was that? Please speak up,” Professor Grimiski instructed. 

“Sorry, professor. I was just saying that they are murderous, bloodthirsty, horrid creatures,” you said loudly. 

Your comment received mixed reactions from the classroom. Several students agreed with you. James, Sirius and Peter voiced loud objections as Remus shrunk further into his chair. Of all the people in the classroom who might have said something like that, he wasn’t expecting it to be you. 

“I see. Um, those aren’t the characteristics I was looking for…” the professor said, speaking slowly and scanning the room. “Snape, do you know-”

“They have a shorter snout, more human-like eyes and a tufted tail,” Sirius interrupted aggressively, sounding annoyed. 

“Ah, Mr. Black! There we go! Ten points to Gryffindor.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. Your expression was cold and unmoving for the rest of the lesson. You were only able to semi-pay attention. What you could remember of that night was on repeat in your mind. The night you lost your brother. The night your leg got the deep scars. The night you became an only child with the burden of living up to what he could never do. 

The moment Professor Grimiski dismissed the class, you stalked out of the room and disappeared into a bathroom. You needed to be alone for a little bit before you could tolerate another lesson. As you paced around the bathroom, you felt your breathing speed up. Fuck. You needed to be calming down, not getting more worked up. You splashed water onto your face and tried to take deep breaths. 

When you were composed again, you went to Transfiguration. You stood awkwardly off to the side of the room when you saw Remus sitting with James, deep in a whispered conversation. Usually you sat with Remus during Transfiguration. After a moment, you took an open seat next to Emmeline Vance. She gave you a kind smile. 

It was like that for the rest of the day. Remus sat next to James, Sirius or Peter in every class, even the ones he usually sat next to you. That left you sitting with new people and throwing off your groove. None of the boys would make eye contact with you. Even at lunch, they turned away from you. You were suddenly iced out without any inclination as to why. 

“Remus, Lil and I are headed to the library. You coming?” you asked in the common room after dinner. 

“No,” he said.

You swore that the armchair he was in was about to swallow him whole with how he was sitting in it. You doubted it was comfortable. The walk to the library with Lily was quiet. Both of you felt like something was up with Remus but neither was going to say anything. It was like each knew the other didn’t have the answer. 

After a few days of similar behavior from the Marauders, they returned to their usual seating habits. You were able to sit with Remus again, but it wasn’t the same as it was. He was far more quiet, more distant than before. He didn’t chuckle at any of your quiet jokes. He didn’t respond to any notes you slid his way. James, Sirius and Peter still seemed minorly upset with you, but at least they weren’t giving you the silent treatment anymore. 

Still, the silence from Remus was driving you crazy. How could you have gone from maybe almost something to not even friends? His behavior affected you more than the lessons on werewolves. Each lesson left you feeling tense and the more in depth Professor Grimiski got, the harder it was to breathe in the classroom. Remus, on the other hand, left you feeling empty and scared. You walked on eggshells around him, not wanting to upset him any more than you already had. 

In essence, it was a very rough start to the semester. 

Lily, Marlene and Mary all urged you to talk to Remus. You all knew him to be fairly level headed, at least out of the Marauders. He was reasonable. If you just asked, they were sure he would tell you what was wrong. 

You just had to wait for the right time. It had to be when he was alone and lately, it felt like he always had one of the boys glued to his side when classes weren’t in session. You figured your best bet was Saturday. James had quidditch practice and Sirius managed to get detention already. The girls said that they would rope Peter into a Wizards’ Chess tournament if they had to, which they did. Remus and Peter had walked into the common room together. Remus headed up to their dorm when the girls summoned Peter over with a prize for the first place that they knew he couldn’t turn down. 

It was your chance. You slipped up the boys’ stairs and knocked on the door to Remus’ dorm. 

“Wormtail, you don’t have to knock for your dorm, Merlin,” his voice called out. 

You opened the door tentatively. Remus froze where he stood. He was in the middle of putting on a sweater. You stared at each other, neither moving nor speaking.

You cleared your throat after a few beats. “Can I come in?” 

“It’s just me in here,” he said coldly.

“I… I know,” you said, entering and closing the door behind you. As you stepped further into the room, you fidgeted with your fingers. “I was hoping we could talk.”

He finished pulling on his sweater and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He was on guard. 

“About?” 

“What did I do?” you asked, your voice cracking and tears immediately threatening to fall. “What did I do to upset you?” 

He took a sharp breath. He hadn’t expected you to sound so broken. He swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep himself steady. In that moment, he hated the effects you had on him. 

“I-” he started to say before needing to take another breath. “I didn’t expect you to be so prejudiced.” 

Confusion immediately appeared on your face.

“What do you mean? Prejudiced?”

“Yes. Erm, about werewolves.” He pressed his lips together as he watched you chew on the inside of your lips. 

“You shut me out because of what I said about werewolves?” you asked incredulously. 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

“Yes.” 

“Wh-why?”

“Not all werewolves are… that,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust as he finished his statement. 

“But they are,” you said, your voice warbling. “They are horrible, horrible beasts. They are capable of ruining lives.”

“I know what they’re capable of,” Remus said. 

“Do you? Because if you did, I don’t think you’d be so sympathetic towards them.” You took your own deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Did you know that I’m not an only child? I had a brother. Until one killed him.” Your voice hitched and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face. “It almost killed me.” 

You lifted your skirt enough to show the deep scars on your leg. 

“Oh,” Remus breathed, taking a step back despite raising his arm to reach out to you. “Oh.” 

You nodded. “Oh is right.” 

“Oh gods… you’re going to hate me,” he said in a quiet voice to himself. He chuckled but it sounded eerily similar to a sob. “You’re going to hate me.” 

“Why am I going to hate you?” you asked in a voice just as quiet. 

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to sit on his bed. 

“I think you should sit down.” 

You gave him a quizzical look, but listened, sitting down on Sirius’ bed across from him. 

“I’m… I’m a werewolf.”

You stared at him. You were certain you didn’t hear him right. There was no way that your favorite person, the scarred boy sitting across from you whose arms made you feel like everything was okay in the world, was the same kind of creature as the one who doomed you to a life of never being enough for your parents.

“What?” you gasped after what felt like an entire minute.

“I’m a werewolf,” he repeated. “Please, please don’t hate me.” 

“But… you can’t be,” you said, shaking your head. “No. You’re… you’re you! You can’t be a monster… You’re…”

“I’m a werewolf.” 

“Remus,” you whispered. “Oh, Remus…” 

“Please, even if you hate me now, please don’t tell anyone. Some of the teachers know. And Sirius, Peter, James. But that’s it. I can't… I can’t have this getting out.” 

Your features softened as you took in the worry on Remus’ face. 

“How long… how long have you been a… a…” You can’t bring yourself to call Remus a werewolf. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.

“Since I was young. That’s, uh, that’s why I don’t talk about my childhood. It’s why we moved ‘round so much. I’m a risk. To everyone.” 

You nodded, not knowing what to say. You just looked at Remus and let your thoughts try to come to terms with it. 

“I… I don’t think I can hate you,” you said after a while. “Oh, Remus…” You paused. “What do you do… every… erm, full moon? How dangerous are you?” 

“I leave the grounds. I’m contained. Dumbledore made it so I could come to Hogwarts and not actively endanger anyone,” he explained. 

You nodded. You were full of conflicted feelings. You know you can’t hate Remus, but you don’t know how you can be around him when he’s a werewolf, not with your family. 

“I… I don’t hate you. And… I won’t say anything,” you said slowly. “But I need time. I… I don’t know if I can be friends with you.”

You stood up, wiping away the tears that stained your face. You left Remus sitting on his bed alone in his dorm. As much as it killed you to walk away, you knew you had to. At least for now. You had to figure out if you could separate the werewolf who ruined your family from the werewolf you sat next to in class. You didn’t know if you had the ability to accept the possibility of a good werewolf, although you did know that if there ever was a good werewolf, it would be in the form of Remus. 

[cloudyskydreams]

I love the way you write for the sanses. I'd love it so so much if you could do the same genre SFW and NSFW headcanons for swap and fell sans too, thank you!!!

Of course!! Took me a bit to get on these but I have prevailed against my lack of motivation woo✨ I really enjoyed writing these honestly they're so fun to me. As always hope y'all enjoy!

✨SFW✨:

Red:

•Reds a clingy guy at home and in public. He likes being close to you and he's a tad possessive because he didn't think he'd ever actually be able to get with someone and you're the perfect someone in his eyes, he can't lose you.

•He seeks you out for comfort often because he doesn't have a lot of coping mechanisms. Just a very disgruntled or upset red coming over to you and hiding his face in your shirt as he clings to you. Only at home of course, he'll cling to your hand in public or get some kisses for that sweet sweet physical reassurance.

•As I've mentioned before Red loves to read and when he gets over his embarrassment of you seeing him in his glasses he'd love to read to you if you'd let him. He used to with Edge when he was little and he's always enjoyed reading to other people and giving the characters their own unique voices.

•Hes a big guy so when he's cuddling and doesn't want you to get up he'll pin you underneath him. Uses his size against you definitely wether that be pinning you down or simply blocking your path if he doesn't want you to leave.

•Real easy to fluster this man he's all for flirting and being a hornball but cannot handle it being thrown back in huge amounts. He's not used to people actually wanting him.

•He does like to spoil you, he doesn't have hella money but he'll buy you nice things or things you want.

•He definitely steals small things of yours occasionally larger items like clothing. He hoardes small knickknacks he's gotten of yours over your time together and refuses to admit that's what he's doing even though he has just a small pile of your stuff in his underwear drawer of the dresser.

Blue:

•He likes to take care of the stuff around the house for you. Of course he likes a little help but he doesn't mind doing a few chores or being the main cook in the house if it makes life easier on you!

•Absolutely blogs about you, Blue is a big blogger and he has a whole blog dedicated specifically to ranting about you and how much he loves you, he doesn't mention you by name and has a silly codename for you.

•He loves matching couple things, he's definitely made you matching bracelets and has gotten matching keychains that represent you guys to have of each other. He thinks it's super cute and just loves matching with you.

•He makes a lot of gifts for you. He likes creating things with his hands so he'll make you stuff like little paper flowers bouquets and flower crowns when you're at the park.

•He loves going out for dates and trys to plan one atleast once a week, he's fine with just hanging around the house and doing stuff but he'd love to take you to the arcade or amusement park or a cute little cafe.

•Your interests are now his interests, or he'll try to get into them at least! If it's not his type he's more than willing to listen to you rant and keep up with specific people or characters just for you. Him seeing a little tidbit of info on something you're interested in and feeling so proud to tell you about it.

🍋NSFW🍋:

RED:

•Has the biggest praise kink, he's into degrading too just not as heavily, he loves being told how good he's doing and how hot he looks.

•Hes a switch with no real preference, loves fucking into you as well as being fucked.His favorite position is doggy style so he can play with your ass while he's fucking you.

•He's got a husky ectobody, his ecto-cock is 6.3 inches and a girth of about 5.6 inches. His femme body has double d cup tits which he's very proud of and a apple shape figure, he has a red outtie pussy that's gapes just slightly from past usage.

•Red loves toys using on him or you. He loves to have his ass or pussy stuffed full and teased with vibrators and all sorts of dildos and plugs. He has a collection that he'll bust out first chance he gets. He loves teasing you with them too, stuffing you full with a vibrator and watching you get off on it.

•On that last bit he's a vouyer so he absolutely LOVES watching you get off with his toys, he even does one of those make a dildo things with his own cock so he can watch you fuck yourself with it.

•Is into anal giving or receiving. He's pretty good at taking it and even has a few butt plugs he'll wear around occasionally. He'd love to get you your own if you'd be into it and he'd definitely tease you with it if you decided to wear it for him one day.

BLUE:

•Blue's a huge tease and he uses his innocent face to try and get away with it when he can. He'll "brush" past you feeling you up stealthily or whisper in your ear how hard he's going to fuck you and in what position and then just look at you with them big blue eyelights and adorable smile.

•He leans towards top and dom mostly but has no problem bottoming or letting you take the reigns. His favorite position is spread eagle he likes being able to look into your eyes and it gives him easy access to your neck and chest for bites.

•Blue's a biter, not just during cuddles but also during sex. His teeth aren't the sharpest but his canines have an edge to them and he loves sinking his teeth into your plush body and leaving marks. It drives him crazy if you show them off he's so proud of them.

•He's got a little chub to his ectobody but not as much as the other sans as he does have a regular workout routine he's pretty good at keeping up with. His ecto-cock is about 5.2 inches and about 5.9 inches in girth. His femme body is a triangle body shape and he has b cup tits. He has a light blue innie pussy.

•He really enjoys roleplay and his favorite so far is royalty and faithful knight/bodyguard. He likes seeing you dressed up in costumes for you and owns a bunch for both him and you to wear.

•Temperature play is a big thing receiving and giving. Imagine teasing his little clit with a icecube or running it up his cock length as he twitches underneath you gasping and moaning. Or him teasing you as he rubs them across your nipples and down your stomach watching the ice melt on your warm flesh.

[ericshoney]

Sweetheart ~ Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: mentions of mental health, coping mechanisms, implied ADHD!Reader, slight innocent!reader, use of pet names (kid, sweetheart, petal, bub) in a platonic way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you woke up at twelve full of energy. It wasn't unusual for you to wake up as a bundle of joy, but the time you woke was. You usually wake up at around two or three in the afternoon, not twelve.

You had slept in Nick's bed for the night, your own room being too "boring", or that's what you told Nick as you climbed into his bed to sleep. Not that it was unusual, you and Chris both struggled to sleep alone, sometimes you'd both share a bed, giving Nick and Matt a break.

When you woke, you saw Nick still asleep besides you. Not wanting to wake him, you slowly get up and go take a shower, getting ready for the day. After a bit, you heard Nick shout.

"You in the shower, kid?" He called.

"Yeah! Nearly done!" You shouted back.

You heard him mumble an okay before you quickly finished and got out, drying your hair as you walked back into the bedroom, seeing Nick sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning sweetheart." He said softly.

"Morning, how long was I?" You asked.

"Bout twenty minutes." He answered, making you nod.

Nick then went to shower and get ready as you headed downstairs to the kitchen, seeing Matt and Chris both awake. The two greeted you as you sat on the counter, swinging your legs.

"Your wearing odd socks." Matt mentioned, noticing your pink and blue socks.

"I got bored trying to find a matching pair." You confessed.

"Don't worry, petal. I'll sort it out later." He said with a soft smile. You returned it as Chris started showing you some edits on TikTok.

Nick soon joined the three of you as you then began discussing what you wanted to do for the day. The guys had a pre-filmed video so the day was yours.

"What about Target? Or the park? Or mini golf! Or what about bowling!" You rambled on quickly, making the triplets smile.

"We can do all of them bub, where to first?" Chris replied.

"Umm the park! No bowling! No mini golf! Target! Wait we haven't eaten so food!" You answered quickly.

"Sweetheart, take a deep breath. How about we go to Target, get some food and head to the park first?" Matt suggested calmly.

"Then we can go to mini golf." Nick continued.

"And end the day with bowling." Chris finished.

"Sounds good! Let's go!" You cheered, rushing to the stairs down to the car, the trio laughing softly.

"I'll get her shoes." Chris mentioned, grabbing a pair of your Converse.

By the time the triplets made it to the car, you were already sat in the back having unlocked the car, and playing a game on your phone.

"Bub, your forgetting something." Chris said, as Matt started the car. You looked up and realised he was holding your shoes.

"Oh right." You giggled, slipping them on and putting your feet on Nick's lap, letting him do your laces.

"To Target!" You cheered.

Music began to play as you looked out the window, watching the world go by and before you knew it, you had arrived at Target. The guys got out first before you, something they always did, in case you walked out in front of a car from being distracted.

"I'm gonna get some sour gummy worms!" You said, already excited for the sweet treats.

"Kid, you don't need anymore sugar." Nick said with a laugh. You stuck your tongue out as you all went into the large store.

You all started looking around, grabbing some stuff you wanted for now or later, Chris grabbed a large case of Pepsi saying he was running low, but you knew there were at least ten cans in the fridge. You then drifted away from the guys, a few fidget toys grabbing your attention.

~~~~

As you looked at the different toys, Nick, Matt and Chris started to panic, not seeing you by their side. The trio were protective over you and knew you didn't like being alone, so losing you in a large store wasn't good.

"She was just here!" Matt exclaimed.

"Where would she go?" Chris questioned.

"There!" Nick shouted, pointing out your small figure by the end of the toy aisle. You had a good handful of fidget toys now.

The three rushed over to you as you looked up at them with a sheepish smile. Knowing you made them panic.

"I got distracted..." You mumbled, holding the fidget toys.

"It's okay, petal, but tell us next time. Or grab one of us." Matt said gently, running a hand through your hair.

"Yeah bub, we don't wanna lose you in Target." Chris added.

"We're not mad." Nick reassured you, knowing you were thinking that.

"Okay! But look at these! They light up too!" You cheered, showing the brothers the toys you found. They smiled, knowing you were happy.

"We'll get all of them, sweetheart." Nick said, taking them to hold, in case anything else caught your interest.

You smiled wide as you all continued shopping before heading off to the park. The guys cherished days like this with you, knowing you'd get a lot of your energy out and be extra happy.

[temis-de-leon]

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist , Part 2 (kind of)

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

.

.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

.

.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

.

.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

.

.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

.

.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

 “Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

.

.

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.  

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

.

.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

.

.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

.

.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

 “Hey Lev��”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

.

.

.

@ourfinalisation

[i2rizz]

No way he pulled that but with Sendou Shuto and a serious (bonus if goth or something like that) S/O who is soft only for him????

Another day another nwhpt request✊️ but sendou lowk doesn't get enough writer's attention so i might just grace yall with a fic

No Way He Pulled That Pt.15

The Neo Egoist League crew had seen some things. Ego's unhinged psychology rants. Barou screaming at vending machines. Kaiser and Isagi glaring so intensely it shorted a stadium's lights once. They thought they'd seen it all.

Until they saw her.

At first the boys didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

Not when Sendou kept showing up to practice with scratch marks on his neck like he barely made it out of a black lace death match. Not when he changed his phone wallpaper to some blurry photo of what looked like a cursed Victorian painting. And especially not when he said, proudly and without blinking:

"My girlfriend’s the hottest girl alive. She’s so cool she scares people. But she lets me hold her pinky"

They laughed for hours.

"Bro, you downloaded her off Pinterest or sum?"

"You don’t even like goth girls"

"She’s either fake or you’re her emotional support himbo"

"Yall dont get it! She's so cool, man. Like, she reads Sylvia Plath and threatens me with eyeliner pens"

"Bro" Reo blinked, "are you okay?"

"She has a playlist called songs to hex men to"

"...What"

"No, like, seriously. She's so smart. And she wears these boots that make her like six feet tall. One time she told a guy off for littering and I almost proposed on the spot"

Everyone assumed it was an elaborate coping mechanism. Like, he had to be making her up. There's no way Sendou Shuto of all people managed to bag a mysterious, goth, goddess-level woman who quotes poetry and wears spike chokers.

Right?

Right??

So when Ego gave them a surprise beach day—yes, the devil himself granted mercy—they dragged Sendou along, still clowning him for the imaginary mistress of darkness he swore up and down was real.

Everyone was chilling - Barou doing crunches for no reason, Rin brooding under an umbrella, Bachira building a sand monster, and Isagi angrily trying to explain sunscreen ingredients to Kaiser, who very much did not care.

The other boys had just begun setting up the net when Reo looked up from his phone, eyes narrowing.

"Who the hell is that?"

Heads turned.

The music from someone's speaker cut out for a second, like the universe was holding its breath.

Across the beach, emerging like a mirage from a nightmare, was a woman. A vision.

Black mesh cover-up. Chunky boots. Lacy swimsuit peeking through. The kind of girl who looked like she either cursed your bloodline or read Baudelaire for fun. Maybe both.

She wasn’t just walking. She was gliding across the sand like she was paid for it. Cool expression, unreadable gaze behind black sunglasses. Jet-black nails, noise-canceling headphones, and the look of someone who wouldn’t even flinch if the ocean caught fire.

The volleyball court froze when the ball bounced near her.

And then. She bent to pick it up.

The sun hit just right.

Kaiser choked on his drink.

Isagi whispered something that sounded like a prayer.

Bachira actually dropped to his knees.

"You have got to be kidding me" Rin said, blinking furiously like that would fix the hallucination. (see what i did there? LMAOO)

And Nagi, barely lifting his head, muttered, "She looks like my sleep paralysis demon. I’d let her step on me"

Then—

"BABEEEE!!"

Their heads snapped to the source.

Sendou Shuto, golden retriever incarnate, was sprinting across the sand like a man on a mission. The woman smiled—smiled—and opened her arms.

And he dove into them like it was home base.

No one breathed. No one moved.

"You came!" he beamed, looking like a kid on Christmas.

"I said I would, didn’t I?" she said, voice soft and silken, brushing sand off his messy hair.

He preened. She kissed his cheek.

And everyone watched -slack-jawed, collectively going through the five stages of grief - as this gorgeous, gothic siren of a woman melted the moment she saw him.

"Is that her??" Reo whispered, scandalized. "Wait-no way. No. No. NO"

You smiled. It was slow. Dangerous. Sexy. The kind of smile that made people rethink their religion

The group’s collective soul left their bodies.

Otoya turned slowly. "...No way he pulled that"

"Okay but she’s like, scary hot" Reo hissed.

"And nice to him?" Nagi blinked. "Unfair"

"She hasn’t even looked at us" Aiku muttered bitterly.

"She doesn’t need to" Bachira whispered. "I feel like if she looked through me i would feel judged"

Barou clicked his tongue, jaw tense. "Tch. I ain’t impressed"

He absolutely was.

Kaiser was still muttering in German. Possibly casting spells.

"Oh, darling," you whispered, hands cupping his cheeks. "Did you drink enough water today? You better've stretched. I'll kill you if you cramp"

You kissed his neck. His NECK.

Sendou giggled.

GIGGLED.

Bachira dropped his popsicle. Rin audibly gagged. Shidou choked on his LaCroix. Isagi looked like his ego was dying.

And Reo just-sat down.

"This...this is wrong. Reality is broken. How did he get her?"

"She's...like a sexy vampire," Chigiri muttered, stunned. "And he's...Sendou"

Meanwhile, you were now lovingly applying sunscreen to your boyfriend's nose while scolding him for forgetting to reapply. He was beaming.

"I brought you your book" you added, "You left it at my place"

"You're the best" Sendou grinned.

You blinked slowly. Then kissed him again.

Every single boy in a 10-meter radius screamed internally.

Even Barou dropped his protein bar.

You could also hear Bachira screaming "is he bothering you queen?" In the backround.

Then—

"Who are your little friends?" she asked, finally glancing their way. One eyebrow raised.

"They’re my buddies!" Sendou grinned. "Say hi, guys!"

They didn’t. No one did. They just stared.

She tilted her head. "...Rude"

Shidou immediately bowed.

Isagi stammered a hello.

Bachira saluted.

Even Barou grunted something that could pass as a greeting.

Later, after she joined their volleyball game and smacked a spike so hard it nearly decapitated Reo, they huddled around Sendou like he was holding government secrets.

"How?"

"My brother in Christ how did you get her??"

"Do you have dirt on her or something?"

"Did she lose a bet?"

Sendou just sipped his juice box and smiled. "She threatened to stab me at a poetry night" Sendou said proudly.

"...What?"

"I asked if her outfit was cosplay. She threatened me. Now we're in love"

Reo, lying face-down in the sand "You don't deserve her"

Kaiser, ready to dunk himself in the ocean to feel something "I refuse to accept this timeline"

"BUT WHY—"

She walked by again, shooting them all a look so sharp it could cut glass.

The boys immediately turned into full-on panic mode - eyes darting like they'd just seen a ghost. In a desperate attempt to look innocent and not end up as collateral damage, they crouched down, nervously fixing Sendou’s hair and kissing his temple.

Sendou just grinned sheepishly.

Honestly, can you blame them? She looked like she was ready to burn the whole world down if anyone dared lay a finger on him.

The boys tho?

They reevaluated everything they knew about love, reality, and logic that day.

No way he pulled that.

But oh well, he did.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.83)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: soulmate bonds come in many shapes- like matching tattoos, picking the same house color, and mating bites... but those are no big deal right?

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Angst, Fluff, Discussions of past trauma, the good type of crying, lots of bickering, an attempt at humor brief blood, mating bites, discussion of asexual episodes/coping mechanisms

W/c: 20.6k

A/n: wow its been a moment since i've updated bily! i've been working on another series too- hold your breath and count to seven, if you've ever wanted to see what hobi would be like as a pack alpha- i think you'll like it alot. it's also referenced a little bit that its an alternative universe of bily so! i feel like i should mention it here.

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

The moon is high in the sky, winking like Hobi's crooked smile. The sound of crickets litters the tall grass, and the peepers across the way make for pleasant background noise.

Summer is here and in full swing. Is it August or July? Does it matter at all when summer always feels like this, always tastes like lemonade and sunshine? Noodle is sitting on the stone wall, tail wagging, pink collar catching the light from the living room, the kitchen, and upstairs. Every light in the house is on. Moths buzz around the streetlight.

The pack has taken to hanging curtains on the porch to keep the pollen out and off of the furniture, the stand still in the lack of breeze. Hobi's big Boston ferns hang between the translucent fabric. And the whole space has this light and airy, almost fantasy-like atmosphere with Jungkook's fairy lights and Tae's pink outdoor furniture. now still and unfilled under the cover of darkness.

Noodle's eyes narrow at the fireflies hovering over Hobi's garden beds. Overflowing with winding tomatoes, heavy and sweet.

His tail flicks.

You and Hoseok burst out onto the porch when the thunder of footsteps. Noodle scatters with a belabored yowel. The curtains ripple with your movement. Giggles stifled behind hands, your hand in his, him pulling you along, down the steps and over the stones, shoes untied because you’d pulled them on in a hurry.

“Hurry! Before they figure it out!”

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear you almost hear something when you start the car, maybe just Namjoon’s concerned tone from the upstairs as you escape unnoticed. Hoseok backs out sloppily, almost hitting your mailbox while you click your seatbelt. half falling over the center console.

He reaches over the console to take your hand in his, lifts it to his mouth as he turns out of your street one handed. Smile stretching against your skin.

Hoseok always looks particularly good at nighttime. The way that shadows wrap his elegant face, like a bud that’s barely blooming. You love his smile lines, his tousled hair, the crack of his giggle in the air. Everything.

You love everything about him, you tell him. The back of your hand still pressed to his lips.

“I love you. Don’t make it weird.” Hoseok licks the back of your hand, “gah!” you squirm trying to pull your hand away but his grip on you only strengthens. He doesn’t even reply.

He’s just turning down the steep hill when he realizes, letting go of your hand to pat his side, then the other. “Ah fuck- forgot my wallet.”

“I’ve got mine.” You say, holding up the fluffy bunny purse shoved in the middle pocket of his sweatshirt. The same one that jimin and tae gave you on your first date so long ago. It's ears flop in the wind, the windows down to let in the nighttime air.

“Need my ID for this.”

“Oh? Yeah you might be right...”

You’ve cut your hair shorter for summer. Hoseok likes it, you and Tae are opposites now, you with short hair and her with long. Hoseok tugs on one of the locks as he turns. By the time he rolls to a smooth stop in front of the house you stiffen.

Yoongi is already waiting there tapping his foot. Noodle by his side and curling around his ankle, looking mad at himself for the affection or maybe at you for startling him. Tail flicking agitated.

He's in his matching pjs, a black and white gingham top and bottom, a translucent face mask over his face, a bowl of Oreo ice cream in one hand, and Hoseok’s wallet in the other.

You roll to a stop in front of him, both of you grinning uneasily. Yoongi doesn't make any expression, just blinks at both of you. Substantially unimpressed.

Coming Saturday May 24th @ 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[lazarusrisingx]

idk bout yall but im an age regressor due to extreme trauma etc yada yada so imma talk abt the LADS boys rq. i also dont interact with other age regressors or talk abt my age regression very often because im embarrassed of it but its a coping mechanism for me and im stressed as shit right now but cant let myself go to that headspace so anyways!!

my asks are open so if y’all wanna request something or just ask questions you can!

completely SFW post, some slight angst but it turns into fluff so dont worry, mentions of some self loathing with caleb and sylus but thats about it

talking about age regression and what the LADS men would be like as caregivers!

zayne

is def a soft but strict caregiver, the cool calm and collected doctor

he doesnt want his little to get hurt and his time with pediatric patients makes him quite a skilled caregiver. he has quite a few rules and some soft rules for his little, and doesnt want them to have a babysitter because he loves being attentive and caring for his little when they regress.

he has heard of age regression as a coping mechanism for trauma, and did some research on it when he did a psychiatric rotation at the hospital, and after hearing more about the community he had some interest in it but its not something he ever actively sought out.

it fulfills a part of him he didnt know he had, it gives him the space to be less serious, and brings out a more playful side in him. but he has strong protective instincts once he reaches caregiver space, and it shows.

he has a hard time not giving in when his little is upset when he says they cant have more sugar, or need to go to bed, or that they need to take their meds. he doesnt like seeing his little upset no matter what, and his heart melts even though he knows that to much candy would make your stomach hurt, or that without your meds and treatment you would be sicker, he knows how scary it can feel when your like this and you need treatment, and he knows how to help soothe you and get you to trust him.

he doesnt do timeouts, maybe less than five minutes but he has so much expeireince with kids that he is able to apply it when your in littlespace, and get you to follow the rules.

he makes sure to discuss everything with you before you are in little space, learns your favorite shows, what might trigger you, every small detail he needs in order to be a good caregiver is talked about in detail beforehand.

your little space soon becomes something he looks forward to every day. a different way for him to relax, a different way to have fun. its his favorite and he loves it dearly.

Caleb

caleb is an energetic, slightly strict, but matches your chaotic energy type of caregiver.

caleb has known you your whole life. while in your teenage years and a bit into your adulthood you didnt quite understand why you would act the way you did, caleb adapted.

he wanted to adapt.

its only when hes gone do you realize you age regress, and his absence makes it harder to do so, and makes it harder for you to escape the things going on. you didnt feel safe enough, even though your mind would teeter on the age of little space you couldnt bring yourself to fall into it. beforehand you simply labeled it as feeling ‘silly’, never stopping to actually think about what was happening, not thinking about the fact that it happened whenever caleb was around and you got triggered by something. not always an upsetting trigger, sometimes just a kids show or being sureounded by your stuffies was enough to tip you into littlespace, a blissful headspace that felt akin to a warm blanket laying over you. where you let yourself rely more on caleb, where you didnt see the awful shit that was going on. it wasnt ignorance, it was a way to cope and heal.

Caleb didnt need you to tell him what you needed. he can recognize the signs that your regressing before you can, and it makes his heart melt in a littlle puddle of love to see it. even when you were teenagers and he was unknowingly babysitting you, he loved every moment of it. you get so playful, a bit mischevious, playing small childish tricks on him, and yes you became a bit more vulnerable to bad people so he became even more fiercely protective of you.

caleb has soft rules. he isnt very strict unless it comes to your safety. want to eat a bag of candy? of course! stay up all night with him? whatever youd like pip-squeak! he can almost never say no to you, unless he feels like it might endanger you. if he tells you no and you pout and cross your arms his heart will do jumping jacks and he will cave within a few minutes. the only time he puts you in timeout is if your throwing a particularly rough tantrum, or you do something that could hurt you. even then, its usually only a little less candy that day, and possibly going to bed a little earlier because he knows how worn out you must get over such big feelings, despite your protest that your never sleepy.

caleb never evereverevereverever uses the Colonel personality with his little. his eyes are always soft and his voice is sweet and gentle. he compromises a lot, and just how littlespace is freeing for you, its freeing for him.

he doesnt have to rough and cruel. he doesnt have to lead with an iron fist. his violent actions during the day are forgotten during these times. hes able to relax, to be protective, and on the days when his actions weigh heavily on him, when his guilt and self-hatred reaches a boiling point, when the pain of his own memories is dragging down his soul, feeling you hug him in your soft pajamas, your favorite stuffy being pressed against his face as your babbling about your day in that cute voice, its like a switch flips in his brain.

even in little space you help him to. if you notice hes looking a little down you always know how to cheer him up.

within the hour he no longer feels that weight in his chest. hes taking care of you, helping you, holding your hand and showing you how to build a pillow fort, as his own worries are swept away from the cuteness overload and sweet feelings that swell in his heart for his Little. just like zayne, your age regression heals a part of him that he didnt know needed healing aswell

Sylus

sylus is the definition of a spoiling caregiver. so sweet itd give you a tootchache. although nervous at first, he is ecstatic to be so close that youd trust him with this.

my man sylus. the cruel, cold leader of Onychinus, master of the N109 zone…

Cannot tell you no.

stickers on his face? absolutely little one. terribly ‘doing his hair’ before meetings with some of the cruelest men on earth? anything for you sweetie, such a cutie. makeup time? his favorite color is red can you show him which color is red sweet-pea?

Sylus absolutely cannot maintain any rules for his beloved little. outside of what might get you hurt, Sylus is a bit like caleb in the sense he cannot say no. except he doesnt even try to tell you no. caleb will put up a little fight, but Sylus? oh hes just a damn teddy bear.

shopping sprees, meetings with your favorite cartoon character voice actors, signed merch from each of them, unlimited stickers, unlimited hide and seek games, unlimited everything.

and its perfect.

his days at work are spent being ruthless, cruel, his heart guarded like a fortress, all for him to be able to come home and let it all leave as soon as he sees you clutching your favorite stuffy and begging him to read to you.

he enjoys story time the most. youll bring one of the many books he has bought for you, disregard whatever he is doing at the time, make him sit so you can curl up in his arms, put your head on his chest and listen to him read you a story.

but how did the cunning man get into this situation?

You brought it up. after a particularly horrible day, you were neck deep in age regression. kieran and luke had gotten a call from you crying so terribly that they responded without notifying sylus first. the mess they came in on wasnt one that was gorey, but one of you throwing a tantrum because the pillow fort you had tried to make wasnt big enough for you and all your stuffies.

hell they didnt even know you had this many plushies. and it was quite confusing to see you sobbing as if the entire world had gone up in smoke. they were just as panicked as you were, frantically trying to figure out the solution to your problem, you were hardly coherent, and it took a few frantic calls for sylus to already be on his way home, only knowing that you were a mess right now, crying so loudly sylus didnt even bother listening to the twins, cut his meeting off immediatley and sped home.

he didnt know what age regression was.

but he is a very quick study and he would never do something he didnt enjoy doing.

sylus is nervous though. the two of you have a lot of conversations about your regression, and he has a lot of questions. but he is nervous. maybe scared might be the right word.

hes scared that cold person he pretends to be is really him sometimes and hes scared you might be able to see it. that youll look at him youll see a monstrous thing, a wolf in sheeps clothing, because sylus sees himself like that sometimes.

it takes him a while to fully relax. its not because he doesnt enjoy this side of you. Gods no Sylus loves it. its the highlight of his day. seeing you smile so much, seeing you so excited your very atoms shake, the way you come to him for help, you come to him for anything and his heart melts. every little thing he wants to do it for you. open every peice of candy, change your shows around for you, get you more juice, every little thing you want and need of him he craves to do for you. all he wants is to take care of you. on his hardest days his solace is coming home to you. taking you to a park without anyone there so you can play on the swing, snuggling up with you and reading a book, letting you jingle out broken melodies on his instruments, humming a lullaby to you so youll sleep, every second of it fills his heart with a great joy he never knew he would be able to get. but part of him cannot fathom that youd place so much trust in him. that youd let him care and nurture the most vulnerable side of yourself.

but eventually, he relaxes. he becomes less of a quiet caregiver who smiles softly and encourages you. he becomes more active, soon enough the two of you are playing hide and seek around the house. hes chasing after you in a game of tag, hes laughing louder, hes less passive in his caregiving.

its also healing for him. a reminder that he is not what everyone says he is. yes he is ruthless but thats not all he is. he is not a cruel dragon, not a ruthless arms dealer, not a gang lord, none of it, not when he is with you. He is Sylus, his hands and words were not meant to only cause pain, but to heal.

he is open to only two other people babysitting you. luke and kieran become big brothers to you. when sylus is away he puts the two of them in charge when you regress. and yes just like real siblings the three of you get up to quite a bit of bullshit together, but nothing dangerous.

at the end of the day Sylus loves caring for you. it takes him some time to catch his footing, but once he finds it, he flourishes. he loves you so deeply, and it shows in every action.