#running any program takes longer

[hirazuki]

Well. Let's do this.

(i.e. this computer isn't going to set itself up T_T)

[anemonet]

hey rememberthe reverse iterators au. are you ever going to post about that again because i think it was pretty cool!

pebbles when he didnt even get to try

[More of my reverse iterator au if anyone is wondering what is going on!]

[kirexa]

I have soooo many p5 headcannons and twst is being dragged into them. Idia and Futaba have the same computer science class and they need a partner for a 'pair programming' exercise but neither of them pair up with anyone so they just get stuck with each other. It's awkward and neither of them try to talk to the other but they actually work really well together. What I'm trying to say is god knows they wouldnt interact with one another without outside help but they would be best friends I swear. If the universe forced them to interact, anyways.

[sanctus-ingenium]

Camera & Action in their own original concept sketches. these were on my other blog but since ppl seem to enjoy the designs i thought i'd have them here as well

ppl may already know that pascal is no longer in the canon of inver, i decided to make a new story :)

so it's about these pseudo-AI assistant/virtual creatures called imimata (singular: imimaton). In the context of the story it's specifically about celebrity culture, virtual pop stars/TV presenters, and labour relations

[copy-pasted explanation from the other blog lol but i have a tag for it here too with a lot more posts!!]

Think of a completely formless seed that, for a fleeting moment, has the potential to become an artificial intelligence, but always changing, with endless permutations and no permanent state of being. when kept within a resonance chamber (the ‘container’ that may be analogue or digital etc), it is fixed into place long enough for it to be able to become. the chamber holds it and allows it to develop instead of dissipate away instantly. the process of development led by external forces - intentional or unintentional - is called 'encoding’. professional encoders will essentially use this shapeless state of being to encode commands, personality prompts, and rules, essentially moulding the thing in the resonance chamber into a form dictated by them. when i say unintentional, i also mean that exposure to any stimulus will always be a learning experience, and the thing will grow and develop no matter what if it first gets fixed in one place. but it’s only referred to as an imimaton once it has been encoded - no longer raw matter, but hammered into shape.

encoding is basically the socialisation of an impressionable thing into a biddable and useful form. in the early Hertzian era (when this technology took off, 1830s ish - crucially, before the commercial application of imimata, when they were curious playthings for idle Great Thinkers), encoding was a process of conversation lasting many years, often for purely philosophical purposes, literally talking at something until it talked back. prior to this, natural magnets could be used to fix a proto-imimaton, and people would think of them as similar to homunculi. in today's digital era, encoding takes the form of inserting storage media into the chamber, essentially running a program in a computer that reduced the encoding process to a few seconds and the flip of a switch. Pascal is an example of a Hertzian imimaton, composed of information stored in radio waves rather than a digital storage medium (basically - he's analogue)

outside of encoding, clauses may be placed upon the chamber itself and these are less socialisation, they do not form the building blocks of an imimaton, they are purely strict rules and routines which it is bound to follow. one such clause could involve the censorship of certain words (so that an imimaton cannot say fuck even if they would otherwise have been able to), or strict boundaries on what information an imimaton is allowed to learn. a common clause also boils down to making it impossible for one to attempt to manifest physically.

Once this was perfected, imimata entered the workforce at the turn of the 20th century.

[...]

When Pascal made his TV debut in 1969, it was hyped up for months with ads which depicted him on set and in more realistic ways (almost appearing to be photographs - some even were!), while public reaction was carefully monitored. This was highly experimental and it still was not known whether the concept of a virtual TV presenter worked, so although they did hype it up, there was a level of caution too so as not to invite negative press.

The first series did not involve public audience members but people from the broadcasting studio standing in for them (this was not made known at the time). They used a combination of camera tricks and graphics to make it feel like he was physically standing in a room with these people (bearing in mind he was strictly contained and had no manifestation outside the broadcast - he was within a container at the base of the mast tower, with a recording device which could cast his image live, so viewers at home were seeing cuts of the Pascal feed and cuts of the physical studio and audience stitched together to appear continuous)

That was part of the gimmick - it was commonly felt that an imimaton should never be permitted to manifest/should have no manifestation, so the fact that he supposedly was manifesting but friendly and contained was a draw. the ads leaned into it quite a lot - marketing copy implying that you could touch him, go on dates with him, etc but always with a cheeky wink, a "not really", the audience at home were in on the secret of it not being real. but it worked really well and was super effective to generate hype and it sparked an entire golden era of imimata and manufactured celebrities (but Pascal remained notorious for being one of the only ones that could believably interact with a studio audience in an unscripted manner, due to his 'maturity' as an imimaton, having been brought up in the 19th century conversational era of encoding, raised on a diet of talking to philosophers)

The second season of the show came out quickly and to much anticipation, and with members of the public actually participating for the first time. The broadcasters set up a wall of CRTs in the studio which would display him to people on-set, and wired up each audience member with a microphone so he could hear them too (he appeared to see them well enough through the camera equipment). he was excited to interact with them and they liked him too, but he always had this slightly mean streak which his broadcaster tried hard to soften. but the meanness worked really well in the reality/game show format where half the entertainment is watching audience members get dunked on sometimes

Episodes could be produced at a rapid pace by taping multiple at once - three identical sets were built for season 3 allowing for three episodes to be filmed at once because he could of course interact with everyone freely and essentially be in multiple places at once. this was also where the first issues showed up on-set - he began to miss his timing cues, arriving just a bit too late to the stage, or taking slightly too long to finish his nightly sign-off. this was not apparent publicly as the episodes were not shown live and could be edited, but any member of the public who was on the show was often hounded after by superfans, so some stories did come out about Pascal's 'odd' behaviour on set. there was a behind-the-scenes documentary made about the entire producing process in season 3 as well, which included some interviews with Pascal himself, but mostly consisted of his handlers and technicians excitedly explaining the broadcast apparatus and containment devices and so on.

Following The Incident, the rare copies of this film became highly sought-after by collectors.

[creatingblackcharacters]

CBC's Donation Drive!

I am always telling others to act, and so, I've been thinking about how I can better utilize my platform to help others. My friend Ibtisam inspired me with her own idea to write thank you cards for those who are donating to lifesaving causes!

So, here's my own, LINK included!

I will be writing up to 100 thank you cards for those who donate at least $10 to any campaign or fundraising program of their choice. This can be individual GoFundMes, SudanFunds, GazaFunds, the PCRF, The Sameer Project, the Sudanese American Physicians Association (SAPA), Friends of the Congo... so many options. I'll take any of them. If you donate $20 or more, I'll even write you a specialized card with whatever you want (200 character max, appropriate things) !

I hope you consider taking the time to participate, and if not, at least reblogging to those who may be interested!

‼️UPDATE‼️

As things have changed, I am no longer fundraising specifically for Amal. However, I am still running a drive for a Live-Streamed lesson! If we can get to $500 in donations, I will live stream a lesson for the page!

[bugb1t35]

Sebastian solace x reader

Summary: What happens if you give a suicidal person the ability to come back from death time and time again, completely ok? Physically at least. Sebastian doesn't want to know.

Trigger warnings and content warnings: suicide, suicidal ideation, self harm and some graphic descriptions of death. Angst with a happy ending.

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Read on AO3 or down below :3

Word count: 6205

Author note

There will always be someone there. You are never alone and you are loved. Please remember that.

Also please ignore the spelling mistakes if there are any it is 7 am when I am posting this. Also I'm on mobile so possible weird formatting I'm sorry </3

__

The cold in the room bites at you, filling your lungs with a gasp as you open your eyes. The burning that consumed every inch of your body just seconds before is gone just as fast as the manilla folder slaps down on the desk in front of you, barely illuminated by a light from above. This feels different from the other deaths.

You wonder what snide remark you're gonna hear this time.

“A void mass? Really?”

You spare a glance up at him, glowing white eyes peering down at you, completely void of emotion. Completely unreadable. You give a meek shrug. It's not like you have to explain yourself to him, and you're already feeling a lot better than before. Lighter.

Like you can let yourself breathe.

“I tripped up. I heard an angler and hid without checking.”

His stare is still empty as ever, his tail shifts around somewhere in the dark room around you as he snickers and leans in a tiny bit closer. Just enough to see that fanged smile.

“Try not to be so careless next time, yeah? Wouldn't want urbanshade taking their brightest expendable out of the program.”

Normally the thought would send a chill through your veins, you’d give a snide remark back and then you’d be on your way to start another life, start another loop, and repeat the cycle all over again.

You don't have it in you to do that this time, so you smile up at Sebastian and bid him farewell, closing the folder and your eyes.

When you open them, you're back in the lobby. Other expendables rushing around, submarines docking and leaving, and the sound of rushing water flooding through the cave hidden port as you look out at the waterfall blocking the entrance that hides it from the view of any unsuspecting soul.

Standing up and dusting yourself off, you make your way to a dock.

The cycle begins anew.

—

Cold air rushing into your lungs, dim light illuminating a folder on the table, a hearty laugh. The same story once again. The searing on your skin is gone, now replaced by a soft tingling.

It's not entirely unpleasant.

A claw emerges from the dark and flips open the folder, circling the photo of a landmine slowly and tauntingly.

“Tsk tsk tsk. So careless. A mine in the middle of the hallway? I thought you were better than this expendable.”

The name is said low and slowly, certainly drawn out to mock you of the position you hold. You couldn't care less, this is the best you've felt in a while.

Your eyes skim through the page, not really caring about mines in particular, but it's something you'll be able to think about later on a slow run.

“Thanks for the info Sebastian! I’ll be heading out now.”

Your voice is awfully cheery for someone who was just blown to bits, but before he can say anything you're already sending him a smile and wave as you close the folder and blink away in an instant, back to the lobby.

Sebastian sits there for a moment longer than he should have, glancing down at the file still on the desk.

There's no way you hadn't seen that mine in front of you.

—

By the time you're at the 8th death from something he deems completely avoidable, Sebastian sits with the file already open on the table and eyes narrowed down at you as your body jerks back to life.

You can feel the hole that pierced through your body closing up, flesh mending and muscle regrowing underneath your jumpsuit. It burns, yet you're still grinning ear to ear.

“Beautiful day for some runs, isn't it Sebastian?”

He stares down at you with a glare, sounding incredibly unimpressed.

“You walked directly into a searchlight’s spotlight.”

For the first time, you catch something in his eyes, but it's gone before you can put a name to it.

“Just what exactly are you playing at here expendable? Some stupid idea that if you die enough times in such meaningless ways you'll be pulled from the program? That urbanshade will think you're too useless so they let you free from here only to go back to death row? Once you're here, you're here for good.”

His voice is practically snarling at you as you look at the papers on the desk in front of you before looking back up at him, pulling out your best sheepish laugh.

Letting him know wouldn't do anything.

“I guess I've just been off my game recently, but that doesn't matter. I just come back every time anyway’

You smile up at him with that same stupid smile, the one you’ve made every time for the past 7 deaths before this and close the folder, disappearing before he can get a word in once again.

A growl bubbles up in his throat that turns into an agitated scream as he swipes the folder and lamp off the desk, sending them crashing down onto the floor.

You have to have a goal here. Some kind of weird thing you’re working towards, you wouldn't be dying so senselessly for nothing, would you?

You have almost everything in the files unredacted, you've been on so many runs he's lost count and you've gotten as far as anyone can go before being sent back to start again. What could you possibly be doing?

He grumbles as he picks up the folder and lamp off the floor, dropping the lamp on the table with no regard for it and cramming the file back into the locker.

You have normal runs where you die normal deaths like every other expendable down here, things that most people would slip up on. So why is it that these completely avoidable (and quite frankly stupid) deaths keep happening closer and closer together?

You had to be losing it. Running down seemingly endless halls, getting hunted by every living thing in this forsaken facility like it's a sport, feeling your body die all around you... After one day any normal person would be starting to feel the grips of insanity beginning to claw its way inside them.

He stops for a moment and sighs before quickly shaking it off and getting back to work.

No use wondering what that would imply for someone like him. He’s thought about it enough already.

—

Sebastian’s eyes peer down at you as you grab some batteries off of his desk, watching and waiting to see anything that could tip him off to what you were doing. Even the slightest change in your behavior from what he's used to, anything that could be useful in any way.

Whenever you get to his shop, you always stop and chat for a few minutes with a smile. That's been something that's never changed about you.

Even on your first day, terrified as all hell and trembling from head to toe as you stumbled your way through the vent to his shop, you still smiled and introduced yourself.

You don't seem as…energized…this run. Something he's been noticing a lot lately. Very avoidable mishaps are always what kill you when you're like this.

Maybe you're not paying attention as much as you should be because your mind is elsewhere.

But where else would it be besides this hellhole?

As you turn to grab the keycard and leave he huffs, picking the medkit off of his tail as you turn to look at him questioningly.

“You’re not gonna be getting past the generators in the shape you’re in. here.”

This is something he would never do, something that defies all morals he’s gained since he's been stuck in this hellhole.

“6% off. You look like you need it.” he sneers out, knowing fully well that it’s an act at this point.

You look up at him, hand hesitantly hovering over it. Sebastian never gives anyone discounts for any reason. Something’s wrong. He's onto you.you put on the best playful grin you can.

It hurts worse than any death you've experienced.

“The Sebastian I know would never accept anything for less than full price. What's the catch?”

“There is no catch, now take it and get out before I change my mind.”

He can see how the smile doesn't reach your eyes, how the fatigue is creeping its way into every inch of you, but you take the medkit and turn around before he can look closer.

You wave farewell and thank him without turning around, crawling out of the vent and making your way down the hallway. He hears the sound of the med kit lid clattering to the ground as your footsteps fade into the distance.

You make your way to the next room, body fully refreshed but mind still cloudy. It was nice of him to do that for you. He's not usually that nice. It makes you feel just a little bit less foggy.

The door shutters open with a metallic shriek as you make your way inside, only to see that a giant hole in the ground blocks most of the way, with small wooden planks laid out to form a narrow path over.

You haven't killed yourself while fully healed yet. Will that make it feel even better?

Almost like second nature at this point you walk over to the edge and step over with no hesitation or second thought, your body falling down into the abyss with a smile on your face.

You blank just before you hit the

ground.

You jolt awake a moment later, head pounding that quickly dulls into a fuzzy feeling, the relief of feeling better almost instantly washes over you.

Sebastian isn't happy to see you again so soon.

—

After the 24th death, he decides enough is enough. He waits a few minutes after you leave to put the vent cover back on the entrance to his shop and he hoists himself up to the ceiling rafters, sliding into one of the air ducts to follow after you without you knowing.

He was getting to the bottom of this, one way or another.

__

Banging in the vents was nothing abnormal in the blacksite, hell, it's hard to go 10 rooms without hearing someone screaming for their life.

Random thumps, footsteps or other sounds of unknown origin don't scare you anymore. Quite the opposite.

If there had been no sound here, you probably would’ve lost it much sooner. Going on runs by yourself can get lonely. You used to love venturing into the depths of the broken down site with other people. But you'd prefer it if no one saw what you've been up to.

But it's good to know there's other things down here with you.

No matter how fucked up they may be.

The safe room door slides open and you walk inside, beginning to search drawers and filing cabinets for the keycard to open the next room.

Sadly, this room didn't have a way you could end your own life in it, so you'd have to keep going if you wanted to find a way to make this awful feeling end.

You hear a jingle to your left as you look around, eventually ducking down and finding the keycard on the floor underneath a chair. A small but triumphant smile crosses your face. Finally, you wouldn't have to put up with this much longer. You could start a new, hopefully better run.

A run where you don't feel like there's a bottomless pit in your chest where your heart should be.

A run without something that sucks all of the good things out of life.

You’ve been saying that to yourself nearly every round now. It's only getting worse.

You grab the key card and make your way to the door, sliding it in and waiting for it to click. The door opens with the same loud metallic shriek every door here opens with and you stand in the entryway for just a moment, before you hear what sounds like music to your ears.

The sounds of turrets kicking to life

Painter's voice cuts in from over the speakers like an angel descended from heaven itself to save you.

“Better hope you're bulletproof, buddy!”

__

Sebastian watches from up in the vents, having been following you for around 10 minutes now. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so far, it seemed like any other run; albeit a bit slower than normal pace.

The sound of turrets firing up was not something new to sebastian, he had heard painters splatter art therapy too many times to count at this point, even getting caught in it a time or two before the ai realized who it was shooting at.

He watched you as you stood at the doorway of the room, just outside of the turret's range. Most likely assessing the best path to get to the off switch.

You have the least amount of deaths from turrets, once even telling him that you find it fun. The ducking, weaving and adrenaline rush making it more like a game to you.

You should have no problem with this.

You take a step into the room and suddenly, something feels wrong. Horribly wrong. Without a moment's notice, you step directly into the moving turret's red beam of sight and it locks onto you, firing almost instantaneously.

He can only watch wide eyed in horror as bullets shred through your body in an instant, tearing flesh, ripping muscle and shattering bone. Your body crumbles to the floor in a matter of seconds.

When he sees your face, he feels beyond sick.

Blood gurgles out of your mouth, spilling down the sides of your cheeks next to tears. Your eyes are fully welled up, scleras turning bloodshot.

Worst of all, you're smiling.

The same smile you'd give to him when he had your favorite items in his shop. It was now twisted and warped, smeared in crimson that only sputtered out more and more when you let you a broken, drowned laugh.

He was completely frozen. He had seen so many bodies, he himself had killed so many, he's seen enough viscera and gore in this shit hole that it would make the world's most renowned biohazard cleanup crew resign permanently.

He’s committed atrocities against so many people, just wanting to survive down here and get out, same as him, so why…

Why did it feel so different now that he's seeing it happen to you?

He covers his mouth with his hand, suppressing the urge to vomit. He's seen expendables kill themselves before, he knows you’ve died horrible deaths before.

This shouldn't be any different!

But oh god…not like this…

Not with you…

Before he has the chance to keel over he blinks for the first time in what feels like years, and suddenly he's back in that oh so familiar dark room with a file in his hand and a shitty lamp barely illuminating the desk.

You're lying slumped in the chair across from him, how you appear after every death. Jumpsuit completely clean and tidy, all signs of blood are completely gone, and the bullet holes that riddle your skin are stitching themselves back up as if nothing had ever happened.

As if what he just saw was nothing but a horrible dream.

His eyes are still wide and jaw agape as you twitch to life, gasping in air, you sit and breath for a moment before looking up at him with the brightest smile and wave he's ever seen from you

“Turrets got me this time! Guess I got a little too ambitious when I was heading for the off switch!”

Your voice is so cheerful it's sickening now. He's never felt like this before. He can't move, he can't talk, he can only sit and stare in horror.

You look up at Sebastian, seeing him frozen like this is certainly new. You wave your hand in front of him, and when all you get in response is his mouth moving with no words you reach and grab the folder from his hands with no retaliation from him, too caught up in your own glee to notice the fear in his eyes.

You kick your feet back and forth and smile, humming a little as you browse over the file.

He swears he can still see the blood on your lips.

“Ok, well I'll see you next run Sebastian! Take care!”

you close the folder and just like that, youre gone from him once again

He stares at the folder on the desk before turning and looking at the file cabinets surrounding him.

How many times had you killed yourself and played it off as normal deaths?

How long has this truly been going on for? Had you been purposefully putting yourself in dangers way this entire time and only recently started ending your own life yourself?

Have you been doing it yourself this whole time and just gotten worse and worse the more it progressed?

All he knows is that he can't let it continue.

He can't.

—

You crawl through the vent into Sebastian's shop, standing up with a stretch and popping your back. You take a moment to stretch the rest of your limbs before moving over to Sebastian, giving him your best wave and smile.

“Hey Sebastian! Whatcha got in store for me today?”

He seems more tense than usual as he flicks his tail over to you, showcasing the stock for today. You idly chat about whatever you can think of as you make your choice, picking up some batteries and a flash beacon.

You bid farewell and turn to leave, but before you can even make it halfway across the room Sebastian flicks his tail again, this time slamming the vent cover back into place. You flinch a little from the loud noise and turn to him confused.

“I think we need to have a talk, friend.”

He sounds incredibly pissed and immediately you are racking your brain for anything you could’ve done to make him angry. You're too lost in thought to notice him leaning down to your level until his hands are gripping your shoulders.

“So, how many times now have you killed yourself on purpose? And why?”

His claws sink into your shoulder, not enough to break skin, but enough to be very aware of them.

You freeze, every muscle in your body tensing as your heart begins to speed up. He wasn't supposed to find out. How did he find out? You need to think of something to get out of this and fast.

He shouldn't know about this.

“Killing myself..? Sebastian, why would I kill myself? I've got enough things trying to kill me as is! I haven't been doing it on purpose!”

You try to play it off with a chuckle and force yourself to smile. It's not like this is about anything serious, or something that would matter to him.

He scowls at you, anger flickering in his eyes as his tail thuds against the ground in restrained anger.

“No one happily walks in front of a turret and then laughs about the fact they're bleeding out on the floor.”

Shit. Shit shit shit SHIT. He saw you?!? Not good not good not good NOT GOOD. he's probably going to think you're crazy and hate you. He'll be disgusted with you forever and never want to be near you again. You have to salvage this somehow. You have to.

“I was just so excited to see you…?”

“Wrong. Try again”

You fidget uncomfortably, looking anywhere but him. This is bad. How could you possibly make this seem like a normal thing??

“Why do you need to know? It doesn't involve you”

His grip tightens on your shoulders and you swallow nervously.

“It does involve me when i'm the one who deals with you every time you die.”

Your hands are shaking now as your eyes begin to water. Why did it have to go like this? Why did this have to happen? This shouldn't involve him at all, he's stressed enough as is.he shouldn't have to deal with you. You're being pathetic. Why couldn't you have just stayed dead on one of your attempts? This isn't fair. It isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't-

You didn't even realize you had started crying until Sebastian says your name. Not expendable, not buddy, not friend. Your actual name.

All at once, everything breaks and your legs give out underneath you with a sob, his hands quickly move under your arms to catch you and set you on the floor gently, making sure you don't fall.

Your sobs begin to grow louder as you grab your arms, nails digging into your flesh to try and calm yourself down as blood begins to pool at the openings of the new wounds.

Sebastian's eyes widen with shock and before you can do anything more in your panicked state, he grabs your hands, holding them above your head. You jerk back in retaliation to try and free yourself before quickly giving up, unable to do anything.

“I-”

you try to sputter out, choking on your own sobs.

“i -i dont-”

you sniffle and hiccup, unable to get more than a few words out at a time.

Sebastian moves his free hand to your face, wiping the tears away from your eyes. He squeezes your blood soaked hands gently.

“It's fine, take your time. I'm not going anywhere”

You stare at him teary eyed in silence for a moment before letting out a long and broken whine, more tears spilling over your eyes. This was wrong. You shouldn't be letting him see this. He's being too gentle with you. You don't deserve this.

“Jesus, if i knew that's how you'd react i would've said something else”

Sebastian forces a chuckle, trying anything to try and distract you from what you're feeling.

But his voice is quiet, as if he wanted no one else in the world to hear it but you.

You take a shaky breath, you have to get him away from you. He doesn't deserve to be put through this.

“I...”

Your voice trembles as you speak, your words almost completely unintelligible.

“I...hate you. I dont…I don't want to be near you.”

If you tell him you hate him, he’ll leave. He’ll leave and never talk to you again and he won't have to be burdened with you and your dumb problems ever again. He can figure out a way to escape and be free and happy without you constantly bothering him.

Sure you'll be miserable without him, you love him. But your feelings don't matter, not when it comes to him. His happiness is much more important. He'd be much better off without you

“You hate me, huh?”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm, enough to make you aggravated as you glare up at him. Why isn't he taking this seriously? Why isn't he leaving you?

“Y-yes! I…i hate you..! I hate you Sebastian! I never want to see you again! Get away from me!”

The words leave a nasty taste in your mouth and an even worse feeling in your chest. You didn't mean any of this. You could never hate him. But you have to, to keep him safe.

He stares at you, barely reacting to your outburst. His eyes narrow as he leans closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“No you don't.”

He says it so calmly, as if it were a fact everyone knew. Disbelief and frustration bubble up inside you as you try to shake his grip off of you, planting a foot on his chest to try and push him away from you. Your efforts are completely in vain as he keeps you in place without so much as even moving when you struggle.

“What do you mean I don't?! That's not for you to decide!”

“If you actually hated me, you wouldn't make such a pitiful face when saying it.”

He flicks you on the forehead right between your eyes as he says it, and you stare at him with wide eyes and jaw agape. Why won't he just believe you?

“I hate-”

“Nope. Try again.”

“I ha-”

“Nah”

“I-”

“Wrong.”

You let out a scream in frustration, tears of anger running down your face now. Why won't he just let you do this for him?!

“Now, are you gonna tell me what's actually going on?”

You turn your head away now. If he wants to play like that, you can play like that too. You'll just sit here in silence until he gets fed up with you and leaves. This is what's best for him.

You both sit in silence for a moment before he asks again, once again being met with silence. He groans in annoyance. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

The hand that was once wiping your tears away grabs your face, forcing you to turn and look at him

“Just tell me what's wrong god dammit!”

A baffled and angry sound escapes you as you try to wiggle your face out of his grip, but he only pulls you closer. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes piercing into you like they were trying to dig into your very soul.

You try to look anywhere else that isn't him, but he jerks your face to make your eyes meet him anyway. There's no escaping it this time.

“Im- I'm not going to burden you with this Sebastian! It doesn't involve you!”

He raises an eyebrow at this, backing away from you a bit but still keeping a firm hold on your face.

“You think you're going to burden me? Is that it?”

You scowl. What doesn't he understand?

“Of course It would burden you! You already have so much shit to deal with and I'm not gonna let my pathetic problems weigh you down more!”

Shit. You probably shouldn't have said that. He stares at you silently before letting go of your face and bringing your hands to your lap, squeezing them in his. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, the gesture making nausea and pain shoot through you.

“Are you actually stupid enough to think it would burden me?”

Because you can refute the insult, he holds a finger up to your mouth to shush you.

“You're one of the few things in this shitty place that doesnt burden me. If the only actual person I gave a damn about is hurting, then I want to know.”

You can feel your heart skip a beat at his words, but you try to shake it off.

no no no NO!.. this…this isn't right..! He shouldn't have to worry about someone like you! You're being pathetic!

“Don't tell me what is and isn't right. I've seen plenty of people being pathetic, and you aren't one of them. Especially not now”

Fuck, did you really say that out loud? You would cry more from embarrassment at this whole ordeal, but you've run out of tears by now.

You sniffle quietly, your voice coming out quiet and broken.

“I don't…I don't deserve you, Sebastian…”

Sebastian reels back, a confused look crossing his face as the fins on the sides of his head dropping down a bit to match.

Slowly, a snicker leaves him. Then another, until it becomes full on laughter. You didn't deserve him?? He's never heard something more ridiculous.

You stare at him confused as he laughs, his laughter only growing lower and harder, even bringing up a hand to wipe away a tear forming.

What is even happening right now…?

It takes a moment but he takes a deep breath in and out to recollect himself.

“You don't deserve me? I'm a monster! I mean, just look at me! Do you even know how many people I've killed? How many deaths I've caused?”

He chuckles to himself, but your eyes widen, panic growing on your face as you pull your hands out of his grasp. Instead, you clasp his hands together in yours as you practically lunge forward towards him. He flinches back from the sudden movement but otherwise stays still as he looks down at the most desperate face he's ever seen anyone make.

“No no no! You're not a monster! You're amazing Sebastian! Even with everything that's happened to you, you still help people! You let everyone and everything that was trapped in the black site out and even now you're trying to figure out a way to get painter out with you too! A monster wouldn't do that! Of course I don't deserve someone as selfless as you!”

The pure desperation to get him to understand you makes his heart drop. Why the hell is he the one getting nervous now? This is supposed to be about you for god's sake.

He opens his mouth to respond but before he can get the chance, you're already talking again.

“You run a shop when you don't have to, you could leave everyone to fend for themselves but you don't! Hell, you didn't even get anything at all from the dead drop shop and you still run it! You're amazing Sebastian! I could never ask someone like you to worry about someone like me!”

This time he's the one cutting you off before you can start talking again, an agitated look on his face.

“Woah woah hey- you don't deserve me? What the actual hell are you talking about? I've seen you give med kits to people who were barely bruised while you were bleeding out! I've seen you jump in front of people to take bullets so they wouldn't have to, seen you shove people into the last locker while you took the full force of pandemonium charging at you! When someone is hurt or sad, you're always the first person there to help! What in the everloving hell are you saying you don't deserve me?! I Don't deserve YOU.”

You begin to stammer something out before he holds up a hand, gesturing at you to stop for a moment. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs before looking back up at you

“Ok look, we’re not going to get anywhere like this and how I feel right now is irrelevant because you have been CONTINUOUSLY KILLING YOURSELF-”

He cuts himself off, taking a breath to calm himself before continuing

“And I care about you, which you can't change, no matter how much you want to. So for now, you are going to sit here and promise me that you will stop hurting yourself.”

He looks down at you and god, he's never wanted to take on someone else's pain as much as he does right now.

Your eyes are wide and bloodshot with tear stains on your face, your hair is messy and your arms are covered in now drying blood. If it were anyone else, they'd look pathetic to him. But it's not anyone else, it's you.

His heart clenches at the thought. He wishes he could take you away from here, shield you from all the horrors of this place. Protect you from every horrible thing you think about yourself. But for now, this is the best he can do.

“Do you think you can do that for me?”

Your name on his voice is enough to ease the pain of everything for a moment, but you hesitate.

Sebastian notices immediately, placing a claw under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“Listen, here's what we’re gonna do. I'm going to give you a walkie talkie, and the moment you feel any urge to hurt yourself you call me and I will come get you. If you can't use the walkie for any reason, you will find painter and tell him and I will come get you. Do you understand”

You swallow nervously, shame burning in your chest. You really don't deserve this, but there's no point in arguing with him anymore.

“Ok I um….I… I promise.”

You look away as you say it, not being able to bear how humiliating this feels.

“I see you every time you die, so I'll know if you don't tell me.”

“Ok, I understand.”

“And so help me god if I learn you threw yourself into danger I WILL-”

“Ok ok I get it! I won't!”

You grumble to yourself as he smirks, clearly proud of himself. This is the worst. You shouldn't be happy about this, that he cares about you enough to do this. How selfish you are-

“Now you are going to sit here and tell me about alllllll of the good things about yourself”

Wait, what?

Before you can object, or even ask what he means by that, he's moving his hands under your arms and picking you up as you shriek in surprise.

He moves his tail, curling it so you can sit comfortably on it as he drops you down on it before plucking a med kit off of one of the bags on his tail.

The med kit pops open with a click and he holds a hand out at you expectantly. Completely baffled, you rest one of your arms in his grip, his hand almost the size of your entire forearm.

Sebastian pops a bottle of antiseptic open and pours it onto a cotton pad before bringing it to your arm, holding it just above one of the self-inflicted scratches.

“Now, tell me one of the reasons you deserve to be cared for.”

“What-? Sebastian I'm not gonna-”

You hiss in pain as he dabs the rag over a cut, the antiseptic stinging the wound. He glances up at you expectantly.

“Ok ok um-....”

You sit in silence for an embarrassingly long time as you try to come up with anything good about yourself. Even with the things Sebastian told you earlier, it's still hard to believe you deserve any of this

“I'm…I care about others and always try to help when I can…?”

It comes out more like a question than anything else. You glance at him nervously as he nods and let's put a hum of approval, telling you to keep going as he grabs a roll of bandages and begins to wrap it around your arm.

This is going to be difficult.

You swallow nervously, your mind almost fully blanking.

“I'm a good person…?”

“Don't say it like a question, say it like you mean it.”

You tense up slightly at how…soft…he sounds. Your chest tightens and a lump forms in your throat. This is all way too...intimate. You think you might pass out if it goes on for any longer. Despite this, you push forward and try to be a bit more confident.

“I'm…a good person. ”

“Good.”

He lets your arm go, gently, grabbing your other one and beginning the same process of cleaning and bandaging it again. Your heart flutters at the praise and the touch.

“I can't stop you from caring about me, even if I want to, so I might as well let it happen.”

You sound defeated when you say it, like you just lost a battle but Sebastian is pleased to hear it.

“There you go, now you're getting it.”

He hums with approval and your face flushes as you look away. This is the worst. You're enjoying this way too much.

Despite every inch of you screaming at you, calling you selfish and undeserving, you feel your eyes begin to shut for longer and longer with each blink, your body getting heavier and your nerves beginning to calm down.

“I deserve to be cared for”

You can feel yourself starting to drift to sleep, and at this point you're far too exhausted to try and fight it. Sebastian finishes tying the last bandage when he notices. He puts everything back into the med kit and shuts it gently before setting it on the ground.

He shifts his tail so it's wrapped around you now, you mumble something incoherent in protest before getting comfortable again. His heart feels full for the first time in years as he looks at you.

“Rest well, ok? I know it's hard to believe but I..”

He trails off, debating on the best way to phrase it, or if he should even tell you right now.

You barely manage to open your eyes as you look up at him questioningly, still trying your best to listen to what he has to say. He can feel his heart stutter in his chest.

“I…I care about you. Get some rest, okay? You need it.”

What he wants to say is teetering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken into existence, but he doesn't want to drop that on you right now. It can be said another day.

As sleep begins to take you, against his better judgement, Sebastian leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead.

That's good enough for now

Ending note:

I haven't seen many things explore the fact that in pressure you come back completely fine after every death so I wanted to try my hand at writing it based on my emotions and experiences.

I am perfectly fine actually but a few months ago when I originally wrote this I was having the worst time of my life, but now that I'm better I decided to revisit it and edit it a bit.

Please remember you are never alone, there is always someone willing to help.

And don't forget dear reader, Sebastian loves you very much, even if he can't say it yet <3

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part One) (18+) | SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.7K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Phoenix had been the one to give you the final push, and right now you’re glad she did. You’d hemmed and hawed over the booking details for weeks, but when the cruise was only three weeks away, she’d insisted you finalize the paperwork and clinch one of the last available rooms.

“Come on,” She’d given you a knowing look, thin brows raised and lips curled into a smirk, “You need this.”

You do need this. Walking onto the cruise ship feels liberating, like you’re free from the shackles of the U.S Military and living a normal life. You’d been pleasantly surprised to have been granted leave by your commanding officer for the entire week, because Spring Break was a term typically foreign to the Navy. But your squadron's leave fell so perfectly in between late March and early April, so you’ll take the time off and enjoy it.

You’re really going to enjoy it. The cruise you needed oh-so-badly isn’t just an average, run-of-the-mill ship, it’s a program specifically targeted towards those wanting easy hookups. 

A sex cruise.

You’d almost been scared away by the no refunds, no rearrangements notice on the cruise’s website, letting you know that you wouldn’t be offered the courtesy of a swap if your random roommate didn’t work out. After all, the point is to get over your reservations, and have a good time. But, you think, it’s only a week, and none of the people you’re seeing around the ship so far look like anyone you’d refuse to have sex with. Do you feel ashamed for signing up for a sex cruise? Slightly. But you can feel slightly ashamed after getting your back blown out by whoever you’re lucky enough to room with. Right now you just need sex, something hot and heavy and rushed, the fervent slapping of skin-on-skin to release the stress pent up inside of you for months now.

Work is tough. You’re no longer the starry-eyed aviator that you’d been at the beginning of your career. You’re older now, you’re starting to exit the honeymoon phase of your job, and to top it off, you haven’t been able to score in months. 

You used to have no problem picking up a date here and there around the Hard Deck, but all of a sudden, it’s like Penny had shut off the tap of men pouring out into your lap. You can’t fathom why the entirety of San Diego suddenly decided hookup culture wasn’t for them, but you haven't been able to get laid in months, so you need this cruise. You’re partially terrified that word might get around to your squadron about your vacation, and that the slight shame you're feeling might multiply into something you'll never be able to face. Heaven forbid they change your callsign to Cruiser, or Hookup, or some other derogatory indicator that you're about to have the week of your life.

Hangman already teases you for not being able to take anyone home anymore, you can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out you got on a sex boat. You’ve always been able to bicker and banter with Hangman, dishing out as much as you take, but if he gets wind of what you’re doing this week, you might lose your never-ending stream of competitive banter once and for all.

You shove Hangman out of your thoughts; this is to get away from all of that. He’s a pest, the way he lays out teasing remarks with that saccharine grin on his face, like he’s the cheshire cat and he’s told you a particularly hard-to-decipher riddle. He’s a cheap rival at best, always poking and prodding about being number one, and how you’ll have to hike up your big girl panties if you want to be on his level, despite your record being neck-and-neck with his own. He’s never given you something you can’t return in full-force, but it takes effort to fire back the way that you do, and you’re eager to let your guard down this week and relieve your pent-up frustration.

You pass through the archway they’ve opened to the dock, big double doors angled inside over short, stubbly carpeting. It looks like what you’d find in an 80’s bowling alley, all clashing colors and wacky patterns. The railings to the stairs just in front of you are gold, and they spiral downwards elegantly over the 3 floors below you. They extend upwards 11 more, which is a scary thing to think about; being 15 decks high in the middle of the ocean. The carrier ships you’re used to aren’t small by any means, but their decks are mainly tucked away beneath the surface and shut in so that, if you ignore the rolling waves that toss you side to side, you can pretend you’re on land. Several mostly open upper decks are new to you, but if you’re lucky, you’ll stay centralized to your cabin, tucked away neatly on deck eight, getting your world rocked.

You’ve packed light, a single suitcase rolling behind you as your purse tucks over the handle. It’s an easy way to travel, and you thank basic training for the way that your muscles easily support your luggage as you drag it up a flight of the spiral stairs.

There’s noise everywhere, lights everywhere, people everywhere; it’s complete chaos. But it’s thrumming with excitement, with the promise of sex, and lust, and getting laid, and you fight to stop a grin from growing on your cheeks as you approach the registration desk.

There’s a man in front of you that’s arguing with the receptionist, something about incorrectly filed paperwork, which you don’t exactly blame the guy for. There had been about 35 forms to fill out, STD Test Results here and Consent Questionnaires there. You understand why they’re necessary on a sex cruise, and you’re glad they’re keeping their passengers safe, but they were a pain to fill out. 

The receptionist sees you file in line behind the man, looking all too grateful for the distraction.

“If you could just step to the side here,” He gestures, waving the man to the left of his place at the counter, “I’ll call someone down to help you with that, sir.”

The man looks displeased to be put on hold, but you take the opportunity when it comes to you, handing over your printed email confirmation that’s got your room number inked in bold black lettering.

“Ah, 838,” The man smiles, “Your roommate’s already gotten his key. Maybe you’ll meet him down there. But if not, you’re welcome to explore the ship. Here’s a map, we have plenty to do if you’re not quite ready to get started.”

The man hands you both a stiff key card, printed with your name and general information, and a map of the ship. It really is huge, and you marvel at how much there is to do besides sex. Maybe if your roommate doesn’t work out, you can hang out in the piano lounge.

The instrument makes you think of Rooster and his attention-grabbing routine at the Hard Deck, whenever he’s in the mood to go home with someone that night. Ladies love a piano player, and if this cruise doesn’t work out, maybe you’ll pick up the instrument yourself. If it were any other voyage, you’d probably be wishing your fellow aviator was on board to serenade the ship, but you’ll count your blessings that he’s not here to see your desperation.

You decide on the elevator rather than the stairs for the sake of your luggage, not wanting the suitcase to get battered hitting each step on the way up. There’s a crowd formed at the doors to the lifts already, humming with conversation and dripping with sex appeal. Two of the three men there are already shirtless and in swim trunks, and you hope you look half as stunning in the bathing suits you’d chosen to bring with you. One of them catches your eye as you sidle into the elevator and the quick wink he sends you lightens your mood. Even if your roommate doesn’t work out, maybe you can branch out and get Elevator Guy's number.

The ride up is cut off by someone on the sixth floor who manages to squeeze into your elevator. Then someone steps out on the seventh, and finally, you make your departure on the eighth. You mourn the loss of Elevator Guy, but you’re excited to meet your roommate, whoever he is. 

There’s not a long walk from the elevator to your room, but it’s a bit of a maze figuring out which hallway to take. You’re the third door down the corridor furthest left, and you slide your key card into the door with excitement brewing in your stomach.

Will he be handsome? Will he be drop-dead gorgeous? Will he have a six pack? Will he have a dad-bod? Will he have a beard? Will he be a brunette? Will he… be invisible?

He’s most likely not invisible, which means he’s just not in the room. The door swings open to a lovely space, portholes showcasing the dock and a single, queen-sized bed against that wall. There’s a suitcase stacked against one side of the bed, but no passenger to accompany it, and the bathroom light is off, too.

There’s a hat resting on one of the pillows, a blue-and-white patterned thing you recognize as rooting for the Dallas Cowboys. It’s the team Jake won’t shut the fuck up about when the game is on, so you’re well accustomed to seeing the color combo. Jake always accentuates his southern drawl when he talks about the Cowboys, just to remind everyone that he’s a certified Texan, as if anyone might have forgotten in the time it’s been since the last game. You hope that whoever your roommate is isn’t just a fan, but a southerner as well, because Jake’s twang would be ridiculously attractive if it wasn’t coming out of his arrogant mouth. But the hat has no owner in sight, so you can’t analyze their accent, and for that you heave a sigh.

He’s not here.

You’re a little let down - does he not want to meet you? - but you suppose that gives you time to go find the buffet, as well as explore the ship. You’d elected to skip lunch on the way to the port and eat on the ship instead, hoping for a debrief with your roommate before you hit it off tonight. But eating alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, and you can muscle through one meal. You take a moment to admire the room, a bright, clean space that you’re going to love messing up. The sheets are crisp and white, but there’s an imprint of your roommate on one side, like he’d stretched out for a while before heading back out. The dip in the bed looks large, and blossoms of excitement bloom in your stomach: he’s beefy.

You deposit your suitcase in the closet, filling out the hangers with your outfits and setting your lingerie on the shelf. You want easy access; you’re probably not going to look very sexy rooting around in your suitcase on all fours for a bra.

You refrain from changing, already in a weather-appropriate sundress that’s a pretty mix of pink and baby blue. You do a quick check in the mirror: no flyaway hairs, dress laying right on your hips, gloss properly lining your lips. You make sure you don’t need to reapply deodorant, perfume, or any other nice-smelling substance, and then you’re off in search of the buffet, eager to see the soft serve machine they’d advertised on their website.

The ship really is crowded, and you appreciate the unique atmosphere that comes from everyone knowing they’re only there for sex. You’re there to fuck and be fucked, and it means you can ogle the man that emerges soaking wet from the pool, slicking his dripping hair out of his face as he prepares to dive again. A woman eating with who you assume is her roommate gives the hem of your sundress a once-over, catching on your thighs beneath the fabric, and glancing back up to your face to level you with a momentary smirk. Confidence flows through your veins as you make your way out towards the wood-lined deck of the ship, looking out over the bright ocean illuminated by sunlight. 

A gust of wind blows the hem of your sundress to the left, but not enough to raise it, so you don’t bother catching it. The sea is beautiful, and you’re thrilled to have a relaxing time on one; you don’t normally get those on giant carrier ships.

There’s no runway here, no reserve of jet fuel, there’s just sun, fun, and lust.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in, uh, room 624, would you?” A voice pipes up from your right, and you turn to see a slightly younger man, clearly sun-drying from a dip in the pool. His hair hangs past his ears but he runs a hand through it backwards, and it means you get a better view of his face, adorned with an impressive scruffy beard, the same brown shade as his hair. However, there’s a ring of slightly lighter hair around his mouth that you hope is from what you think it’s from. His face is more squarish than long, skin a tone darker than the impressive tan Rooster sports after a day at the beach.

“Ah, no.” You laugh lightly, and the overexaggerated slump of his shoulders hints that he was expecting your answer. You take pride in the fact that he’d wanted to ask anyways, and you flash your key card at him, “838.”

“You mind if I remember that?” He leans against the railing of the deck, and once more you appreciate the open, bold atmosphere of the crowd you’re in, “If my roommate doesn’t mind not being exclusive.”

“I don’t mind at all,” You smile, feeling a slight flush come to your cheeks. This is going to do you a world of good. If your roommate has even half of this guy’s good qualities, his charming smile, his toned arms, his slight southern drawl, you’ll be more than happy to share your week with him.

“Daniel,” He sticks a hand out, fingers thick and rough-looking. You wonder what he does for work; something laborious by the look of his hands. 

“Y/N,” You smile back, turning to shake his hand. He takes you by surprise by raising your knuckles to his lips, and you remind yourself once again that this cruise is geared towards romance. Or, at least lust, but you’re flattered he’s throwing in the extra component. 

You try tamping down your obvious grin as you turn back to the ocean, “You haven’t met your roommate?”

“Nope,” He grabs a shirt from a nearby lounge chair, patterned with a faded band logo that you can’t place, what must be a waterproof watch gleaming in the sunlight that hits his wrist. “I was hoping to get lunch with’er. Hey, have you eaten yet?”

“Actually, I haven’t.” You straighten from where you’re leaning against the railings, “I was waiting for my roommate too.”

“Well,” Daniel holds out an arm, toned and muscular, and you hook yours through it, “Fuck ‘em.”

You laugh at his bold choice of words, still having to remind yourself that you’re in a strictly adult environment. You don’t need to worry about your sailor’s mouth, there’s no kids to overhear, nor parents to get upset.

Daniel’s arm is strong where he leads you to the dining area, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fixating on the feeling of your bicep locked to his side by his own. The buffet is a little classier than you’d expected; instead of all-you-can-eat french fry stations there’s trays of pastas, stews, and meat for the taking, thin silver utensils laid out neatly over each container.

You keep it light with only foods you know won’t upset your stomach with the rocking of the boat. That’s the last thing you need, and you manage to find an open table while Daniel waits in line for pizza. You’ve barely had a chance to spread your napkin over your lap, your sundress putting forth a valiant effort to cover your upper thighs, when Daniel sits across from you and smiles through his beard.

“So, where are you from?” He questions, biting off the end of his pizza slice so that you have a chance to reply. 

“I live here,” You attempt to pick up one half of your sandwich, lettuce and tomato making it slick and difficult, “I’m actually, uh- stationed here. With the navy.”

His eyes bulge for a second, and he swallows while nodding, “Wow. Okay, that’s cool. I’m guessing that’s why your arms are practically bigger than mine?”

You try not to spit out your sandwich laughing along with him, grateful for the flimsy paper napkin you’d snagged to hide a smear of tomato juice along your lip. 

“You should see one of the other guys from my squadron,” You think of Jake- Jake who’d famously torn through a t-shirt (albeit, a flimsy one) by just flexing the muscles in his biceps, “I swear his arms are bigger than my neck.”

I’m sure you guys need ‘em,” Daniel muses, sipping at his drink. He’s listening to you with rapt interest, something men don’t usually do when they find out that your job is something traditionally masculine. He’s not boasting about his own job, he’s not rattling off gym stats: “So you’re a sailor?”

“Aviator,” You correct him, used to the misconception, “I fly.”

“I don’t think I knew the Navy had planes,” Daniel admits, crunching a potato chip between his slightly crooked teeth, “I thought that was just the Air Force.”

“Everyone thinks it’s just the Air Force,” You grin, stacking two pickles on the end of your fork that had somehow escaped your sandwich.

“Sorry,” Daniel looks bashful now, his smile sheepish, “I bet you’re tired of correcting people.”

“No! Don’t worry about it,” You’re absolutely tired of correcting people, but you’re not about to tell that to a man who’s mustache has lighter ends than the scruff of his beard against his jaw, “What about you, what do you do?”

“I just work at a post office, I sort mail.” He divulges, and you’re instantly more fond of him; a civil service worker who wears tight little shorts? You’re not quite sure if Daniel has a downside.

“Are you local?”

“I’m in Oceanside. Not too far,” He muses, “I only drove an hour here.”

So, he’s good in bed, he’s good in uniform, and you could easily make weekend visits. You’re starting to lament the fact that you’ll be sleeping with someone else for the week.

“Are you sure you’re not in room 838?” You tease, “Maybe they misprinted your card, or something.”

“Believe me, if I could get it reprinted, I would,” He confesses, setting his fork down to brace his elbows on the table. He leans forwards, his chin propped against his clasped hands, “I know they’re all strict about not changing roommates, but listen, if yours doesn’t work out, I’ll propose an arrangement to mine. And- uh, even if yours does work out,” He stifles a smirk, stuffing a chip into his mouth instead, “-ask him if he wouldn’t mind swapping for a bit.”

You both admire and appreciate his desperation. You’re used to aloof sailors, or men in bars who wish you had less muscle and more tit. Something about the way he’s leading the conversation, not forcing himself on you but begging for a chance, makes your stomach flutter.

“We’ll work something out,” You promise, nudging your foot against his beneath the table, “Coming straight out and asking is working on me, if I’m being honest.”

Daniel laughs, so you elaborate: “So many of the guys I meet try pretending like they don’t care. Or- or maybe they don’t, I guess, but it’s still frustrating. It’s nice that you care.”

“Of course I care,” Daniel blinks incredulously at you, cheeks stuffed as he struggles to swallow before speaking, “You could choke me out with your thighs, babe. I’m not stupid enough to lose that opportunity.”

Your cheeks burn. Evidently you’re still acclimating to the brazen atmosphere of the ship, and you struggle to hide your sheepish smirk as he kicks his foot against yours beneath the table, the same as you’d done to him.

Daniel’s only gaining more popularity in your mind when he takes your plate to the trash, scraping away the remnants of the lettuce and condiments from your sandwich and stacking his own on top of it where they’re about to be washed. He sends you a dazzling smile as he gestures for the doorway, and you’re honestly surprised that he doesn’t say ‘after you’ when he lets you go first.

“Eighth floor?” Daniel verifies when you step through the doors of the elevator, and it’s much less packed than when you’d been there before. You nod, and he presses only 8, not 6 for his own room. You’re almost nervous that he might try to come into your room with you, because you’re not sure whether your roommate is there, and you don’t know how kindly he’ll take to you bringing another man in without meeting him first. But you swallow your nerves as the doors slide shut, leaving you in the elevator with him alone.

You can feel him staring at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. He smiles back, and you lock eyes for a tense moment, then all of a sudden you’re both lunging forwards, frenzied as something in the air tells you to jump each other. Your hands sling around his neck as his lips press to your own, the scruff of his beard grating against your skin. It stings slightly, but it’s delicious as his lips fit between your own, and your back presses to the cold metal wall of the elevator. You suppose you should be a little ashamed, letting your tongue ghost over his bottom lip, making out with a man you've just met in an elevator, but it appears everyone is either boarding or eating, and no one bothers you on your journey up.

To add yet another thing to Daneil’s list of perfect traits: he’s an excellent kisser. He lets you lead, and when he feels your tongue prod at his lips he groans, gladly licking over your top lip. You open your mouth, seized by the moment, and he ventures inside without hesitation, his tongue hot and wet as it laps over your own.

You’d moan if you could, spout some breathy expletive or test out his name on your drool-coated tongue. But you can’t, he’s a presence, an enigma, and you let him occupy your mouth so much that words won’t.

You’d been on the fourth deck when the doors had shut, and it’s not a long trip to the eighth. When the elevator jolts to a stop you reluctantly push Daniel away, not wanting to expose yourself to the hall of deck eight.

“Uh,” You breathe, wiping at a smear of drool on the side of your mouth, “Fuck, that was-”

“Yeah.” He agrees, similarly breathless as he runs a hand through his hair that you’d tousled slightly, “I’d love to do that again sometime.”

“Me too.” You laugh bashfully, “Uh, maybe not in an elevator, though.”

“Like- like in a bed.” He concludes as the doors slide open, revealing a safely empty hallway. “Or- or just a room, or something, like a- a couch, if you don’t want- not a bed.”

“A bed,” You assure him, endeared by his caution, “I’d love to do it again sometime in a bed, Daniel.”

“Alright,” He grins, reaching out to catch the doors before they can close on you as you depart, “838’s right there. I’d walk you, but,” He points at a door only two down from the one directly in front of you, and you wave him off with a grateful grin.

“No worries.” You laugh, “Thanks, Daniel. Uh- I hope I see you again.”

“Me too,” He smiles, and it might be the most charming sight you’ve ever seen, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

The doors slide shut on him, and you feel like the next appropriate step for you is to go into your room, close the door, and slide down the backside of it. You can’t fathom reacting any differently to the mind-blowing, butterfly-inducing kiss you’d just engaged in, especially with the excitement of doing it in an elevator. The desperation you’d felt and received back was exhilarating, and you’d be happy to get off the boat now and savor the feeling. 

Coincidentally, the ship’s horn sounds, and an announcement comes over the loudspeakers, “Passengers, brace yourselves for some slight rocking,” You hold onto the wall, just in case, “Because we are on our way! We’ve just set sail, and for a day and a half, you’ll be at sea. Then we’ll dock on beautiful white sand beaches by Wednesday morning. I hope you enjoy yourselves, and I wish I was one of you, because I do not get a roommate. Unless- Rick, you feel like- no, no, okay! Okay,” The captain laughs, “My co-captain isn’t interested. Well, folks, enjoy yourselves, and please don’t make messes in the pools.”

You’re feeling generous, a bounce in your step from being kissed stupid in the elevator, so you let out a light chuckle at the captain’s humor. Any other time, you might have found it corny, but you’ve just been made out with, and everything seems better than it would have before. You hear muffled cheers from the rest of the ship, and dig into the pocket of your sundress for your key card. You retrieve the smooth plastic, slot it into the door labeled 838, and take a deep breath.

If he’s anything like Daniel, you’ll have a great time. And if he isn’t, you’ll see Daniel again.

With that, you push down the silver handle, hearing the door click with the motion, and you step inside.

The first thing you see is a pair of socked feet sticking off the end of the bed. The bed is perpendicular to the doorway, and the upper half of it is hidden by the bathroom. You clock the pair of toned, tan, mouth-watering legs that rest on the mattress, a sight you already want to sink your teeth into. You’re shocked that you’re bold enough to think that you wish he didn’t have briefs on, especially considering the sizable bulge in their fabric. You take a step closer, and a similarly toned torso comes into view, impossibly muscled and something that belongs in an art museum. There’s a pair of thick, bulky biceps raised above the man’s head, and when he turns his head to look at you-

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

You freeze in your spot. One foot planted in front of the other, your weight distributed between them equally. Your eyes go wide, your stomach twists awkwardly, and you damn near drop your keycard.

“Hangman.”

Your fellow aviator's face is equally as shocked, but it curves into a familiar cocky grin all too soon, “What do we have here? Y/L/N?”

“No fucking way. Jake?”

“Y/N,” He matches your pattern with a hearty chuckle, “Oh, this is too good.”

“You’re in the wrong room.” You decide, “This is 838.”

“That’s what it said on my key card, darlin’.” Jake snatches the card from the sleeve stuck to the back of his phone, flashing it at you where you can see the clear print of the numbers, “Guess we’re fated or somethin’.”

“Shut up.” You snap, knees easily bending as you fall back against the loveseat opposite the bathroom, “Shut the fuck up, Hangman. There’s no way I’m staying here.”

“No room changes,” He grins, and you want to smother the expression off of his face with a pillow, “And no getting off, either. We just set sail.”

You bury your face in your hands. There’s no way you’re surviving this vacation. Not with Hangman- Hangman who acts like a toddler and pulls your hair whenever it’s not in the regulatory bun. Hangman who snatches food out of your hand if you hold it up for too long without eating it because you’re speaking. Hangman who delights in insulting you over the comms in the air, offering you flying lessons ‘’cause that move was pretty rusty, darlin’.’

There is absolutely no way in hell - which feels like your current location - that you’re taking a sex cruise with Jake Seresin, end of story.

“So, sex cruise, eh?” He muses from his spot on the bed, and you shoot him a glare so vicious you’re surprised he doesn’t drop dead.

“Yeah? You’re on it too, Hangman.”

“Easy,” He holds up a placating hand, “Wasn’t an insult. Just didn’t think you were the type.”

“To fuck?”

“To be desperate.” He shrugs, “Y’know, Y/L/N, if you wanted to have sex with me this bad, you could have just asked.”

“Stop it right now.” You insist, “This was not my doing, and so help me god I’m considering ripping that stupid porthole out of the wall and jumping ship. Clearly I’ve done something to upset the universe, so do not fucking expect me to enjoy this, Hangman.”

“You’re very pissy,” He notes, only making his observation more clear as your scowl deepens, “Relax, Y/L/N. I’ll give you a good time.”

“All you’re capable of giving me is a migraine.” You spit, a headache already brewing behind your eyes, “God, and why are you naked? Have some fucking class.”

“Class?” He repeats incredulously, a chuckle shaking his stupid, exposed chest, “This is a sex cruise! I’m near naked ‘cause I thought we’d fuck!’

“I’m not having sex with you.” You vow, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I’ll cycle through this entire ship twice before I even think about letting you at me, Hangman. Do you understand?”

“I understand’ He salutes, and the tease pisses you off, “Y’know, Y/L/N, I think you should let loose. Live a little, don’t be so uptight the whole time.”

“I’m uptight because you’re sprawled out over my bed without clothes on.” You groan, and then your brain comes late to another earth-shattering conclusion, “Oh, fuck, that’s the only bed!”

Hangman laughs, the sound thick and full of that cockiness you despise, “Damn right it is, darlin’. You gonna snuggle up next to me tonight?”

“No!” You gush, readjusting yourself on the loveseat so that you’re curled up on its cushions, “There, see? This is my bed. I’m sleeping here.”

“Oh, relax,” He scoffs, patting the space beside him. He’s turned towards you now, propped up on his elbow and boring into you with his stare “There’s plenty of room here. I’m just messing around.”

“I’m not.” You insist, “I’m not sleeping with you, Jake. Either way.”

“Well, you called me Jake,” He notes, shrugging his broad shoulders and settling back onto his pillows, “I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’re getting nothing.” You hiss, turning onto your back on the loveseat, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?”

“A week on a sex boat with me? Must’a bought a homeless man some groceries, saved a starvin’ puppy, caught a runaway baby stroller, that kinda thing.”

“It must have been the time when I scratched that Tesla and didn’t leave a note,” You groan, “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jake’s never been one to take insults or teasing gracefully. He retaliates with his own, his eyes still burning holes against the side of your face, “So, Y/N. Seen the shops yet?”

“No.” You grumble, “Didn’t know they had any.”

“Oh, yeah. Real nice stuff,” Jake drawls, “Y’know, lingerie, vibrators, sex chocolates, all that stuff.”

Your cheeks blaze and you honestly think you’d rather be back on base than here, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I’m not lying!” And to his credit, you believe him. But lying isn’t the issue, it’s teasing, and you’re not sure you can handle seven days of it non-stop.

“I wonder if Daniel’s seen the shops,” You grumble, maybe just a little smug that you’d already hit it off with someone, assuming Jake hadn’t had the time to make out with anyone in an elevator yet.

Your brag works, and the muscles in his jaw tighten ever-so-slightly, such a small movement that you wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t been studying him.

When he speaks, there’s a familiar tension in his eyes, one you're used to seeing when someone ignites his overinflated sense of competition, “Daniel? That the guy you tongued in the elevator?”

You let out an incredulous cry, as if he’s wrong, “What? What- how did you know that! We didn’t tongue,” You scoff, reminiscing on the heavenly feeling of Daniel’s tongue smoothing over your own.

“Mhm. Sure. That’s why your lips are all swollen and shiny. ‘Cause you two stood six feet apart.”

You feel judged opposite Jake’s narrowed eyes, and you retort, “Okay, fine. We kissed. Is that a bad thing? This is a sex cruise, I’m supposed to get lucky.”

“All I’m sayin’ is you were snappin’ at me to have some class, but I’m not the one who frenched someone in a public facility. Did you even wait for it to be cleared out, or did you just go at it in the crowd?”

“It was empty.” You huff, practically slamming your head back down onto the couch cushions, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I bet he pushed all the buttons to make it take longer,” Jake snickers, “Or- or did he back you up against ‘em? Smash your back into the panel and light the whole thing up like a Christmas tree?”

“Shut up!” You gush, taking one of the cushions from the couch and jamming it over your head, blocking his irritating voice from your ears.

You’re fucked.

Actually, you’re not fucked, and that’s the problem. You’d rather be just about anywhere else right now, but if you had your pick, you’d be in a different room, with a different roommate. One who wants to spread your legs and feast on what’s between them, one that wants to jam your throat with his cock until you’re begging for air. But you’re here instead, bunched up on a stiff loveseat, an itchy pillow over your face, and enemy number one lounging on the bed you have to share with him tonight.

You’d rather be fucked.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[sugarwarachan]

driving you crazy part 1, part 2

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader, andy's notes: tsukki pov 🗣️🗣️🗣️ I made him PATHETIC summary: being in the same phd program as tsukishima kei was already the worst, and that was before you and the snarky bastard were tasked to teach the same class together. after a late-night run-in at the library leaves you breathless, what will happen when you attend the same conference together? content warnings: SMUT, brat reader, dom!tsukki, reversal of roles, power dynamics, praise kink word count: 1.5k art credit: @Freaka_LoonyZ on x

Kei knows he’s prickly. Judgmental, easily irritated, and, perhaps occasionally, prone to acting like a snarky, immature child. Or so Tadashi might say.

But he also knows behavior. He knows people.

He knows exactly why discovering that smudged line in your notes upended his entire life.

Because you wouldn’t have written it if you didn’t want him, too.

The library wasn’t supposed to happen. Neither was tonight, or so Kei told himself earlier that evening. But he doesn’t want to keep you at a distance any longer, not when you’re clambering into his lap, all languid and soft.

You’re so close; one move and he could stuff you full. His dick pulses and you huff that cute laugh he always feels in his chest.

“How have your clothes stayed on?”

Your hands slide under his shirt, and Kei immediately shivers.

He hates how much control you have over him, how much you make him feel.

You toss the shirt away and admire his bare chest.

“I always knew you were like sneaky ripped.”

“You’re such an idiot,” he replies before crushing his mouth to yours.

He cups your jaw in his hands and drinks in the breathy sighs that fall from your lips.

You’re not paying enough attention, he thinks, feeling you go pliant and eager in his arms as he kisses you. You’d see it plain as day, stamped all over his face, if only you opened your eyes and looked.

He hates to admit it, but it hurts that you kiss like this: so tenderly, so intimately, as if you come together like this every night, like you have all the time in the world.

You undulate your hips over his cock in a slow steady circle; it’s hard to think outside of wanting to sheath himself in the slick channel of your cunt.

“I need you,” you whine, all tongue and teeth as you bite and lick into his mouth. “No one else makes me feel like this, you know that? This fucking insane.”

(You’ve been less of a brat since you came, too, but he’s going to be polite and keep that to himself for now.)

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.”

Your hands are everywhere now that his shirt is off, and you whine against his neck to take off his pants.

He doesn’t care how you want him or how you figure it out.

If he has to fuck you every day to drive it into your pretty skull that you’re perfect for each other, that’s what he’ll do.

He grunts into your neck when your fingers wrap around his cock, bolts of pleasure shooting down his spine.  

“Of fucking course you’re hung,” you scoff in annoyance, your hand sliding over his shaft and teasing more pre from his tip. His head falls back. You lick and bite over his throat, working his cock between your fist like you were born to do it. “Of fucking course you’d fill me up the way I’ve been aching for it.”

You’re good at touching him, just as observant with him as he is with you. When you rub your thumb over the slit of his dick, he’s a moment away from begging, actually begging, for you to sit down on it.

“Y/N—"

Kei doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, to be honest. He doesn’t normally like to be ridden. There’s something about it that he finds unbearable: the loss of control, the eye contact he never cares enough to hold—

But when you told him you wanted to make him feel good, he realized how much he wanted to let you.

“Need me, too?” You’re all seductive smiles now, and it’s honestly the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the mighty Tsukishima Kei making the noises he’s making right now, but fuck if it doesn’t make me wet.”

He loves your mouth. He loves the way you talk, the way you tease him, the intelligence that literally pours from you every time you open your lips to speak. He’s practically been hard since the day you two were introduced.

“Of course you’d be a teasing little bitch,” he says, not missing the way your breath catches.

“Takes one to know one, babe.”

You’re so obscenely wet that you sink down onto him in one slow slide, rocking your hips forward until he’s nudged right up against your cervix.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, hands settling on his chest to hold yourself steady. “You feel so good.”

Kei is doing everything in his power not to instantly cum.

It’s indescribable being inside of you. The heat of you pulsing around him, the softness of your legs on either side of his hips. You shuck off your tank top and immediately he fills his hands with your breasts, holding the weight of them in his hands.

“Doesn’t really do much for me to have them played with,” you say a little breathlessly. “But you can touch them if you like them.”

“Need a chance to adjust to me, princess?” Your walls flutter around him. He screws his eyes shut to blast away the onslaught of pleasure. “I can put my hands to better use if you need help.”

He scoops under your ass and starts rolling you up and down his dick.

“You’re such an - hnnghh - asshole, you know that?” You push him back, and he lets you lean forward to pin him down and start riding him in earnest. “Making me feel this good and insulting me all at once.”

His stomach tightens every time your hips meet. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

“I do love it,” you admit. “I love the way you feel inside me, Kei. How full you make me feel.”

The words buzz in his head.

Before he knows it, the request is out of his mouth.

“Keep talking to me like that. Keep telling me how good I make you feel.”

The smile you gift him is filthy in its promise.

“You like it when I praise you, Kei?” You lean close, eyes glittering in front of him. Your question is honey-sweet, similar to the tone he adopted with you earlier. He’ll spank your ass raw for it later, but right now, it only fuels his hunger for you.

“I love it,” he says through gritted teeth. “Competitive, remember?”

You laugh and slow the rhythm of your hips, cantering your pelvis forward and rocking onto him. The urge to rut up into you like an animal grabs him by the throat.

“I’ve never wanted someone like I want you. Do you know how many times I thought about torturing you like this?” You stop moving, and the whine tumbles from his mouth immediately. You smack away his hands as he makes a grab at your hips. “I used to fuck myself stupid on my dildo thinking about sitting on your cock and edging you till you could barely talk. And now you have to go and be the best fuck of my life.”

Your pussy pulses around him. He groans, low and guttural, feels it vibrate through your fingers on his chest.

“Baby -"

He’s seconds away from begging, his hands so tight on your hips he’s certain they’ll leave bruises. You haven’t moved a muscle.

He knows he’s stronger than you. He could flip you over and fuck you hard if he wanted to, but the power dynamic of this is quickly turning into the sexiest thing he’s ever experienced.

For you, he doesn’t mind letting go of his control.

“Please,” he finally says, and just like that, you roll your hips. Needles of pleasure reverberate out from his groin.

“I never thought I’d hear you beg,” you sigh, bringing your lips to his. He drinks you in like a man dying of thirst. “Don’t move, Kei. Please? Just let me take care of you. Let me reward you for how good you made me feel earlier.”

He groans. “You’re not playing fair and you know it.”

“I’m not,” you say, and it’s desperate now, the way you’re fucking yourself down onto him. “I’m close, and I need you to cum with me. I wanna feel you cum inside me. Please. You’re so good, Kei, fuck, you feel so good.”

His orgasm is coiling tight in his gut, and with each whimper you make against him, he’s seconds away from spilling himself inside you.

“Say my name,” you say. “I love it when you say my name.”

He can’t deny you, not when your pussy is clenching him like a vice and your frantic pleas are such beautiful music to his ears. He holds your gaze and chants your name like a fucking prayer, and he hates how happy he is to hear you breathe his name moments later.

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3

taglist <3 @tabi-kat, @localfandomjumper, @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi, @waterfal-ling, @snowthatareblack, @peach-filth, @kodsuken, @kongkhoi

[gavisuntiedboot]

Centimeters

Gavi x physiotherapist! Reader

A/N: no one asked for this but lord have mercy the photos from today had me heavy breathing

“Gavi, remember to behave yourself.”

“But I haven’t even-“

Ansu put a finger to his lips, eradicating whatever the end of that sentence was going to be.

“We’re about to go in for medical exams and the doctor is your girlfriend. Now I know you’re still pumped full of all your raging teenage hormones-“

“Ansu!”

“-but please, hermano. There cameras literally everywhere. So I’m begging you: behave.”

Gavi crossed his arms over his bare chest, pouting slightly at being scolded in front of the other boys. It was no secret that he was madly in love with his physiotherapist/girlfriend, but it never deterred the boys from teasing him incessantly. His injury over the last year had made things tough. She was at training more than he was, coming home with stories about practice drills and player banter that made his chest pang. He shook the thoughts from his head as he was called in to have his measurements taken.

Gavi shuffled into the room, white socks gliding against the floor. He fiddled with the bandage on his arm from the blood draw. He wished for a second that he could be childish, pull he is girl away from all her responsibilities and have a hand to hold while someone stabbed him with a needle. But he knew that now, close to graduating from her program and becoming lead physio, his girl was running the entire operation. So he was happy to just stand there, wide eyed and slack jawed watching his perfect girlfriend concentrate on something flashed across a computer screen.

Eventually, she felt a searing gaze burn holes into the dip of her back, and turned around to see her shirtless boyfriend biting his lip and smiling like an idiot. She suppressed her own grin, grabbing his file and her clipboard.

“Mr. Gavira - ready to be examined?”

There was a playfulness in her voice that, when mixed with her raised eyebrow and overwhelming stare, made Pablo blush.

“Of course, doctora. And please, take your time. Absolutely no need to rush.”

There was a light giggle bouncing around the room before she sat Pablo down, blood pressure cuff tight on his arm. Her fingers grazed his bicep, lingering longer than would be appropriate for any other player.

“Those scrubs look great on you, doctora.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t pick them out for me this morning, Pablo. Uncross your feet so that I can get a proper reading of your blood pressure.”

He spread his legs in the chair, shorts riding up his muscular thighs. He sat back in the chair, getting lost in watching his favorite person in the world fiddle with a blood pressure cuff.

“Any other players give you complements on the scrubs?”

“No Pablo - there is no one on this team suicidal enough to flirt with me or pay me a compliment while you’re here. Poor Lamine was scared to take off his shirt. He kept looking around expecting you to walk in.”

You tapped him on the arm, instructing him to stand for his height and weight measurement. He stood on the mark, and as she adjusted the piece above his head, he couldn’t help himself from wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her into himself, planting a quick kiss to her temple before she should pull away.

“Gavi!”

“What?”

“We’re at work!”

“Come on - no one is going to scold me. I’m poor Gavi with the bad knee.” He finished his sentence with a pout, big puppy dog eyes making him look younger than his already mere 19 years.

“Yes yes, poor little Gavi and his busted knee. I, however, am not an asset to club or country. Hansi will scold me in three languages if we get caught making out in here.

“Wait,” he turned his head swiftly, arms back around her waist. “Making out is an option?? Why didn’t you tell me.” His laughter disguised the sound of her lightly smacking his chest. She grabbed her clipboard again, and placed the metal piece gently on his head.

“173 cm. Tsk tsk Pablo - still as small as last year.”

He smiled at his girl, amusement painting his every feature.

“I don’t remember size ever being an issue for you, doctora. I’m still taller than you.”

“By like 10 cm. That’s not a lot.”

She took down his weight, and then grabbed the tape measure to start assessing specific areas of his body.

“Of course you would say 10 cm is not a lot. Since you’re used to 15 cm daily.” He earned another smack to the chest.

“Pablo!”

“Or maybe it’s 20? Maybe we should find out since you already have the measuring tape ready.” He suggested while his fingers played with the waistband of his shorts. She grabbed his wrist in fear, terrified of what Gavi was willing to do in a close room.

He laughed loudly, bringing both hands to cup his girl’s face. He felt the warmth of her cheeks on his palms, and her flustered state gave him a squeezing feeling in his chest. He brought his forehead to hers, waiting until she met his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to whip it out here in the medical room. No matter how much you may want it.”

She laughed gladly, fears subsiding and chest feeling lighter after Gavi’s light touch. She grabbed the measuring tape and began. She started with his neck, saying her measurements out loud before jotting them down on the form.

“Chest is 94 cm. Bigger than last year.”

Her fingers traced downwards, leaving heat on Gavi’s skin as they got to his hips.

“Hips are 81.5. Same as last year.”

Next, she traced across his collar bone and down his arm, tapping to silently tell him to flex his bicep.

“Biceps are- holy.”

“That’s not a number, preciosa.”

“Biceps are 43 cm. Ehem, bigger than last year. By a lot.”

The doctor tried to stabilize her slight tremble as she wrote down the measurements. She tried to calm herself, but something about Gavi’s new, fuller physique was making professionalism almost impossible. Gavi, the little shit, flexed his biceps again, pleased with the reaction he could evoke.

“Lift up your shorts, Gavi.”

“Don’t you mean pull down?”

“Are you okay, Pablo? You’re hornier than usual today. Do I need to get a spray bottle?”

“Surgeon called me today and cleared me for more vigorous activities. Want to help me follow the doctor’s orders?”

She got on her knees, wrapping the tape measure around his thigh.

“Thighs are 61 cm. Smaller than last year. You’ll need to work on that.”

“I had my ACL repaired.”

“Pshh excuses excuses.”

She finished her measurements, taking other important vitals and making sure to ask him all the medical clearance questions.

“What time are you finished today, Pablo?”

“2 pm. They don’t want us out for too long in the heat. How many guys are left?”

“About 6. I’ll probably be done before you, so I can go home and make lunch.”

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him.

“No no, wait for me. We’ll leave together and go get food. You’ve had a hard day, let me treat you.”

“Every day is a hard day at work.”

He kept one arm around your shoulders as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll treat you every day. See you later, princesa.”

He hugged you into his side, and scampered off to the practice field. Neither Gavi nor his lady noticed the social media intern in the hall, who was quick to snap a picture of your embrace. The image of Gavi hugging his physiotherapist into his side and smiling from ear to ear set the internet into a flurry of comments.

New post from fcbarcelona: strong bonds between our players and medical staff 🫶

~~~

Hey do you think this is a cute dynamic? Wish you could read more about gavi x physiotherapist? Well you’re in luck! I have a ten part series of their love story in my master list!

Guys I love him so much. Anyways, like, comment, reblog, and check out the fundraiser in my pinned!! Love yall <3

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[mochatsin]

When MC Gets Pushed Off the Stairs

You can be the kindest person or the biggest brat this exchange program has ever seen, but it won’t erase the fact that you have enemies. Some demons just can’t stand the idea of a human earning the favor of the seven avatars… and there are others that plan on doing something about it.

TW: implied bullying, falling down the stairs, sprained ankle + MC in a cast, violence, demon brothers being a bit more sinister.

I was in the mood for a bunch of dark and spiteful demons. I might make a separate part of them taking care of MC during the times they have a cast.

------------

“Who do they think they are? They probably feel invincible when they have those brothers stuck to their hip.” 

You tried ignoring the rumors and whispers, you knew it wasn’t true so there wasn't any reason for you to bring this up with anyone. Though there were a bunch of demons, specifically these two girls, that are quite irritating. They definitely knew you could hear them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll lower their voices whenever they start talking about you. Seeing your discomfort is what even encourages them to keep talking, and you’re walking down the stairs to your next class so you can avoid them because there’s no way you’re gonna give them that satisfaction of seeing how bothered you are. 

“Invincible? As if! They’re just a human.” The other mocks, looking at you with disgust.

“Let’s find out.” Is the last thing you hear before you feel someone’s heel push your back, making you lose your balance and fall over. It was a blur after that, until he came by…

------------

Lucifer

Students are crowding the stairwell, and Lucifer can feel the annoyance already blooming. A crowd like this usually means trouble, and he wonders if Mammon is trying to place bets in secret again. It won’t be the first time he catches his brother discreetly collecting gambling money after convincing other students to bet on something stupid, so Lucifer isn’t going to be surprised if his initial thought was right as he pushes through to see the commotion. 

That’s when Lucifer desperately wished he was right as soon as he saw you on the ground. Two demons on top of the stairs laughed and mocked you, but the moment Lucifer stepped in the scene they immediately shut their mouths out of fear and so did the crowd of students around you. He can piece the scene together and understand what happened, but he needs to hear from you first. 

He kneels down to your level to check up on you. You’re not unconscious and that’s great, though you seemed pretty shaken up. Falling down the stairs and having several students stare at you wasn’t pleasant after all. “Come, let’s discuss what happened in the student council room.” Lucifer offers, since the last thing you need is to be the center of attention and he knows it won’t be a good idea to let you stay here longer.

He helps you stand, but you stumble and cling onto him for support. Your foot… it hurts so much that putting pressure on it sent jolts of burning pain that almost made you scream. You’re trying to be strong despite the pain, you can’t show weakness in front of Lucifer who’s relying on you to represent humans. What kind of image are you showing them? That you’re fragile and weak? It’s all getting overwhelming and Lucifer can see you’re already at your limit.

He turns to the two demons on the top of the stairs and glares at them. The temperature drastically dropped, breathing felt so heavy all of a sudden, and there’s this feeling of dread that paralyzed not only the two but also everyone around them. Trying to run away wasn’t an option, the two girls knew it would just make things worse for them. 

“I expect to see the both of you in the council room at the end of the day. Or else.” There’s no negotiations, and opening their mouths to protest is already a defiance to Lucifer’s orders. He’s already quite strict on his brothers, what more to a pair of demons that doesn’t seem to understand that there are consequences to their actions? “Everyone, get back to your classes.” 

Once everyone has finally left you both alone, Lucifer carries you in his arms. There’s no way he’s letting you limp to the infirmary in this state. He checks your ankle and sighs when he realizes it’s sprained. You thought at first that he’s stressed because you getting hurt meant more work for him, but the worried look on his face shows that it’s not about that.

You’ve been so strong for doing so much here like helping Lucifer manage all of his brothers while still doing your duties as a student, trying to keep up a good impression enough for Diavolo’s exchange program. Now seeing you hurt with a swollen ankle is making Lucifer rethink his views. It’s not pity that’s written on his face, it's… something else entirely. 

“I don’t think you’re weak at all… but maybe it’s time that we take care of you, little lamb.” Lucifer says. It’s an understatement to say that you’re dependable because you’re much more than that to him. He wonders how he even managed to get by with his brothers before you came into their lives. You’ve been so reliable, Lucifer almost forgets that you’re also fragile. You’ve done too much, you deserve a break and be pampered. It’s exactly what he does now that you’ve got a cast on your foot. 

Lucifer doesn’t like seeing you with those crutches, it doesn’t sit right with him when someone like you is suffering from something as basic as going up the stairs. He starts making a proposal about making RAD more accessible for students by adding elevators or magical levitating platforms. While it’s a good idea on its own, you can tell that they had this plan so that you don’t have to suffer through the stairs anymore. Everyone else immediately agreed to the proposal without second thought. 

Lucifer had the two demons apologize to you, and he doesn’t care whether they bruise their skin or get covered in dirt, they will be doing it properly. To beg on their hands and knees, bowing down until their foreheads touch the floor. He won’t let them up until they actually feel genuinely sorry, he doesn’t care how many students will be staring at their pathetic displays. He’s almost tempted to dig his heels into the back of their skulls should they lift their heads for even a single inch from the ground. 

He’ll chip away at their pride that led them to hurting you, finding a way to humiliate them in every subtle way until they’re the ones cowering their head. Lucifer would make subtle comments each time their paths would cross, always looking for a single flow that he would call them out for under the pretense of how it’s unbefitting as a student of RAD. It’s so harsh that the brothers almost felt sorry for them. Is it petty? Perhaps it is. But he doesn’t feel guilty at all when they actively chose to hurt you, and maybe he’ll stop once your ankle is all better.

Mammon

You two were together but then he said had somewhere he needed to be. Mammon was supposed to meet up with you before classes, he just needs to talk to some people he owed a few grimm to and possibly ask for another deadline extension. He’s turning to every corner trying to make sure Lucifer won’t spot him counting his debt, though he did notice the crowd that was forming a few meters away. 

He didn’t give it much thought at first, but that’s until he heard the whispers of students walking towards the scene. ‘It’s that human exchange that fell’ ‘fell? They were pushed, weren't they?’ And that’s when Mammon starts to sprint, honestly hoping that it was Solomon and not you that they were talking about. 

“Outta the way dammit!” Is all you hear, with a few grunts from students getting forcibly shoved to the side before Mammon finally finds you on the floor clutching your ankle. He squats next to you to check the damage, and you can tell from the expression on his face that it doesn’t look good at all. 

He looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons snickering at each other before running away from the scene. Mammon recognizes them, he’s heard some of the nasty stuff they’ve said about this exchange program, and especially about you. It just never occurred to him that they’d do something this drastic when given the chance. Mammon was gone for ten minutes and that was enough time to hurt you. 

He wanted to run after them, force the two to apologize to you. To make them pay. Though the wince and cries from you are what makes Mammon think with a clear head. You tell him that your ankle is hurting, you can’t move it as much without any pain. So he carries you and makes a run for it to the infirmary. No ambulance compares to how quickly Mammon ran just to get you some help.

Mammon stays by your side, too afraid to leave you for another second after what happened. He stares as they patch up your ankle and you’ll be in crutches until it heals. He’s mad, but definitely not at you. He’s angry that this happened under his watch when he’s supposed to be making sure you’re safe from demons like those. That was a role entrusted to him and he already feels like he failed.

“Ya aint leavin’ my sight, not until that ankle of yours is back in shape aight?” And he meant every word. If he’s not glued to your hip, then you swear you can see a three-eyed crow that’s following you around wherever you go. You just feed it some snacks if you have some when you can, and you wake up with shiny trinkets by your desk the next day.

Mammon is ready to be at your beck and call anytime you need it. You let out a grunt of frustration if you dropped your bag and spilled all your belongings. Your sprained ankle makes it hard for you to bend over to get them, but the moment you turn your head, Mammon is already at your feet grabbing you everything. If it weren’t for the circumstances (like your injury), Belphie would probably exploit this and make his older brother do everything while pretending you asked for it. 

The two girls have noticed how much those crows have been following them around. Crows can hold grudges, and they definitely recognize the demons that hurt the human they (and their master) care about. 

It started off as something harmless as landing on their desks, squawking at them, or stealing their pens before an important exam. Though when Mammon noticed them occasionally mocking you behind your back for that cast once you came back to RAD, the crows became more aggressive. The birds pulled on their hair, pecked and bit on their skin, clawing at them whenever they could.

Desperate for this madness to stop, the demons are already by Mammon’s feet begging for the crows to leave them alone. Personally, Mammon would’ve done something much worse but there was no way he’s going to abandon you for a second with that cast. “I’m feeling quite generous, so if ya hear me out on my conditions i’ll let you off the hook yeah?” 

In exchange for finally getting some peace from those crows, the demons agreed to two conditions. One, never to lay a hand on you ever again unless they want the risk of the birds invading their homes. No more mocking or even looking at you with malice. Two, pay Mammon every month. By the time that you got that cast removed, Mammon has paid off some debt from his classmates and he’s quite proud of it. At least he could take care of you and save some coin at the time. No one said it had to be his money right?

Levi

Levi didn’t spend lunch with any of his brothers or classmates as usual today. He likes spending his free time alone in isolated places like the school garden, empty classrooms, or even the rooftop so he could play his games or watch his anime in peace. Socializing with too many people is overwhelming, this is his own way of recharging to get through the rest of the day. 

Though there are rare instances that Levi would ask you to join him in his little hideouts, because you’re one of the people he doesn’t feel too draining to be around. He planned to share some of the snacks he bought for the both of you, but he saw that you were talking with his other brothers at the cafeteria. Feeling dejected, he decided to spend the lunch alone as usual and wait for the class. There’s no way you would want to spend time with someone who’d rather play gacha games on his phone for lunch…

He was hiding by the corners of the stairwell to play his game when he overheard two demons talking so badly about you, followed by hurried footsteps and then a heavy thump at the end of the stairs. Then he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and it’s when he realized that you were pushed off the stairs. He saw your body on the floor, trying to recover from the fall and he felt like his world was crashing in on him. He’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do without making things worse.

You turned around and found him hiding behind the stairwell, eyes locked for a moment that felt like an eternity to the demon. That’s when Levi realized he can’t just stand there idly when his player two is injured. Despite the anxiety, he ran to your side anyway to check on you. His face went so pale when he saw you clenching your ankle, the pain evident in your expression. “I-i’ve got you just… dammit what do i d-do…?!” He mumbles the last part, because he knows this isn’t a game where it takes one button to heal you back. No saved file to help him now. 

Levi looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons glaring at the both of you. Out of all the brothers, they would never take Levi seriously. To them, he’s just some demon who dedicated his life to a world of fiction and seeing him fumble right now just proves it. They say that Levi just lacks any real skill to even help you before they left. 

He hates to admit that those two are right, and that makes him loathe himself even more. Levi almost went down on a spiral, but that’s until he felt a phone get placed on his hand. He turns to meet your gaze, you handed him his D.D.D. and he knew what you were asking him to do. Levi quickly dials for his brothers and help came to you after a minute of doing so. He’s thankful for their quick responses, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if a crowd started forming around you both. 

Everyone of them was huddled outside the infirmary while you were getting patched up, and Levi explained what he witnessed. Though he starts going into his self-destructive speech patterns at how he could hardly do anything to help you by himself that he needed to get his brothers to do it for him. He felt so useless to you, but Lucifer interjects. “It’s natural to panic. But if you did not call for us, then they would’ve been in pain for much longer.”

That helped Levi feel a little bit grounded hearing reassurances from his brothers. Lucifer then tasked Levi to be the one in charge of taking care of you during school days. Since Levi also takes his classes online, then he can watch over you while you’re resting in the house. You both can take online classes together while you recover from your injury.

Levi spends most of the time in your room instead because there’s no way he’s making you go up those stairs to his room, and he doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt or slipping if you try to get in his bathtub. As clumsy as he could be, Levi did his best to take care of you. He did want to spend some time alone with you, but he wished it didn’t take a sprained ankle to get what he wanted. 

“I-if only this healing item exists, it would’ve been really handy right now…” He says as you both play a two-player game, the demon staring longingly at the recovery potions on the screen and wishing it could take away your pain right now. Levi often wonders… maybe if he didn’t sulk from the jealousy, if he actually asked you that day to go spend lunch with him, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. 

Levi was watching some anime while you slept, and he saw the bullies on the anime picking on the innocent main protagonist. The scene just reminds him of what happened to you, and that brings him this sense of rage and justice. It was unfair what those two girls did to you, and Levi doesn’t think it’s right that he does nothing about this (assuming that his brothers haven't gotten to them first). 

The girls found all their accounts hacked. From Devilgram to their bank accounts. Their emails and passwords were changed overnight so they couldn’t figure out how to get it back, and if by some miracle they recovered their accounts, everything was already wiped clean by then. Levi may not be the most confrontational brother, but he’s the best behind the screen. He’s chugging his third energy drink as he thinks of new ways to plant a virus in their D.D.D.’s when he goes to school at the end of the week to hand over both of your homeworks. 

When Levi overheard the girls still talking about you during break, they found all their stuff completely drenched and ruined by the time they came back to their seats even though the classroom remained dry. Gadgets were water damaged, and schoolwork that they were supposed to be submitting later is already long gone. Even their lockers were stuffed with sand and sea water, spilling all over their uniforms as soon as they opened it. The teachers scolded them for the mess they ‘created’ no matter the protests that they never did, but who would believe them if they said it was Levi’s doing? The girls never uttered your name again.

Satan

The teacher assigned you both as partners for a class project due next week, and Satan suggested that it’s best to get a head start on it while your schedules are free. You babysit all of his brothers every day, so Satan expects that your days are going to be quite busy if any of them knew you had a bit of free time to spare. At least his plans are something productive, he gets to spend time with you while also finishing some homework together. 

It’s ten minutes past the agreed time you both were supposed to meet. Satan is outside the school library, tapping his foot on the floor as he messaged you but receiving no response. He knows he could’ve gone ahead to do some research to pass the time, but the point of this study date was to do the project together. It’s never like you to be late without any notice, so he sets out to look for you. 

Satan is walking swiftly, wondering if you were still at the cafeteria. He dials your number to try to call you during his search, and he stops in his tracks when finds your phone on the ground, the screen cracked. It brought alarms in his head and he picked it up to figure out where you must’ve dropped it. It wasn’t hard because he soon spotted the crowd of demons by the stairway nearby. He could immediately guess what happened as he ran to the crowd, and he’s shocked when finally sees that you were the source of commotion.

He doesn’t care how many students he shoved just to get to your side. Seeing you on the ground in pain already warrants an emergency. Satan guessed your phone flew out of your hand when you fell. “What happened to you?! Where does it hurt?!” Satan asks, pulling you close in his arms and checking what’s causing you pain. He sees your ankle swelling slightly, and he’s trying to deduce what he can do to help after reading all of those human health care books just for you.

Though the laughter he’s hearing from the distance is annoying and distracting. Satan glances up and spots the two girls fleeing the scene, looking so proud of themselves. When he realizes what happened to you, his anger is already bubbling through the surface that it’s almost hard to contain. The pained expression on your face doesn’t help, the only reason he hasn’t fully transformed into his demon form is that he doesn’t want to draw more attention or hurt you more than you already are.

The way these students crowded around you like vultures to a feast is making Satan frustrated at each and everyone of them. How could they just stand there and watch while you were in pain? And those two girls, he will make sure to burn their faces into his memory for later. You could practically feel the heat of his wrath radiating from your pact and it’s making your body hurt more. Satan realized that his temper right now could be causing you more pain, so he focuses his thoughts into getting you some help instead of the anger that wants to burn everything and everyone around you.

“Calm down… just calm down…” he mutters over and over while he gently scoops you into his arms, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. Satan is careful when carrying you so he can take you to the infirmary, and all the students parted like the red sea when Satan shot glares at them, quickly scattering like rats while the two of you disappeared into the infirmary. 

His eyebrows are furrowed the entire time as he waits for you to get patched up. His brothers have already arrived after they heard what happened, though they could sense that the fourth born is already on edge like a ticking time bomb. He’s quiet not because there’s nothing to say, but because he’s trying to hatch a plan. Something like this shouldnt go unpunished…

Satan is glad for his position in the student council because it meant that he could access some files from RAD. What does he do best? Studying and gathering as much information as he could. He looks for any detention notices until he finds the names and faces of the two girls that hurt you. A smile spreads across his face, though it was nothing pleasant. Like he just found his new prey. 

He just needs to wait for that detention day, patience is the key to success. So for now he’ll focus on taking care of you. Satan pays more attention to you, always attentive to your needs. He brings you notes from any classes that you’ve missed during your recovery, and you heard from one of the brothers that they’re all trying to rack up money for a better phone since yours broke. you do admit that you feel bad for all the extra work he puts up for your sake, especially since Satan even had to do most of the project that you both were originally supposed to do together in the first place if it weren’t for the incident.

“You’re speaking nonsense. I don’t mind putting in more effort just for you, all you need to do is to recover. I’ll consider that as my thanks.” Satan would bring you books in bed or make you some coffee topped with some latte art just so you wouldn’t feel so bored. You can’t go to cafes or libraries with him like you both used to, so Satan will do everything with you in the comforts of your room. 

Satan counted the days until it was time. He assigns another brother to watch over you. Asmo pretends not to hear the sound of the main door closing in the middle of the night, distracting you with something pretty he recently bought. The next school day rolls around and everyone is lucky you’re still in bed rest when the news broke out. Two students were found unconscious on the stairs in an awful state. Normally, falling down a flight of stairs doesn’t do much damage to a demon as much as it can to humans. And yet the bones in their legs were absolutely shattered…

None of the brothers were honestly too bothered to tell you the events that transpired, mostly because they knew the culprit. Satan would rather that you focus your energy on recovering. The only news that Satan told you was that you both got a perfect mark on the project you both worked on in the comforts of your room, but he doesn’t bring up what happened to those two demons. You only found out when Solomon accidentally told you during his visits. 

Asmo

There’s only a few minutes left before the next bell would ring, so Asmo makes sure to retouch his makeup in the school’s bathroom just as he usually does. He dedicates twenty minutes of his daily time making sure that he looks absolutely perfect, so he could bless the eyes of those who pass by to bear witness of his beauty. At least, that’s what he always tells you whenever he leaves. 

Just a bit of blush here and there to match his eye shadow, and Asmo has this proud smile on his face when he’s sure that he looks absolutely spotless. He wanted to bring you along to his little pre-class make up routines, and maybe next time he’ll hear that sweet ‘yes’ from you when he asks. Just thinking about you is making him giddy, so Asmo packed up his pouch and tried to look for you.

It didn’t take him long because as soon as he opened the bathroom door, he spotted a few students by the stairs. Asmo finds it unusual because what could be so important that he’s not the center of attention? Regardless, he’s intrigued enough to investigate the source and he’s horrified to see you down the stairs, clutching your ankle. 

If it wasn’t you, then it was Asmo’s shriek that probably drew more attention to the scene. He’s quickly running to your side and checks if you hit your pretty little face anywhere. “Darling, that must’ve been a nasty fall! I would hate it if you got any bruises anywhere on that perfect skin of yours.” Asmo whines as he helps you sit up to give you more support, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

When he did so, he heard a scoff and finally turned his attention to the top of the stairs where the two girls looked at you with disgust. He recognizes one of them from his fanclubs, a girl that often tried to get his attention. The facial expressions and body language says all he needs to know, he’s seen this look before. Someone like you being held by Asmo is a major offense to her eyes. The two demons storm off before Asmo could say anything. 

Asmo pursed his lips together in frustration before he turned to all the students crowding around you. For once, he hated this attention you’re getting and he sees how much you’re getting shaken by this. “Scram.” Asmo said with enchanted glowing eyes, watching as they all obeyed his command. He then turns to you and wraps your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. “Come on, let’s get that treated or Lucifer will kill me!” Asmo says to try lighten the mood, though it doesn’t hide the bloodlust in his eyes. 

He doesn’t like sweating when he just retouched his makeup, but he can’t even bring himself to think about that now whenever he hears the pained whimpers from you everytime you struggle to take a step. The brother’s eventually arrive to find Asmo outside the Infirmary, scrolling through his phone. Looking closely, he’s actually stalking the profile of the demon he saw earlier and there’s a sinister smile on his face whenever he learns something new about his target. The smile was enough to creep Levi out. 

Asmo is always checking up on you when you’re at home recovering, trying to cheer you up whenever he has the chance. It’s gotten to the point he lessened his time clubbing or going to malls just so he could stay with you. “When you’re out of that cast, there will be a special bath full of rose petals with your name written all over it.” Asmo does his best to pamper you whenever he can, knowing how hard it must be to have that cast. It’s truly awful when these sorts of things have to happen to you when you both just bought some matching shoes together! He decides not to wear it yet until your foot gets better.

While you were gone, Asmo did what does best. Gossip. He started giving that other demon attention like she always wanted, whispering and suggesting things in her ear. About how that other demon, her friend, was saying disgusting things behind her back and Asmo is only telling her this to ‘look out’ for her sake. He relishes in her angered expression, knowing he now has her wrapped around his finger like a puppet and all he needed to do was sit back to watch the show.

Each day he found himself feeling excited to go to school just to see how those two would hurt each other this time. It started as something petty with his fan constantly bumping into what she used to consider as a friend, feigning ignorance whenever she’s confronted. Of course, she retaliated back until their silent arguments full of passive-aggressiveness turned into something more violent and hostile. It started from mean notes to death threats until they can’t even stand being in the same room without trying to claw out each other’s eyes. All because of Asmo’s pretty words.

There are times teachers are called to intervene because two girls began fighting in the hallways, screaming profanities while pulling at the other’s hair or horns. Whenever the drama dies down, Asmo would go back to add more fuel to the fire just to watch them burn. He tells his dedicated fan more lies just to enable that rage, spreading a rumor or two around the campus to make it sound reliable. He loves having that charm that captivates and charms, especially someone as gullible as this demon who’d listen to anything he says.

News was no longer about your recent incident, it was now about how the two demons fought so badly that they fell over the stair railings from the top floor all the way down. Given the severity of the injuries they’ve given each other from the week alone, they had no choice but to be suspended until the student council decides what to do with them. 

Of course, the brothers knew Asmo pulled the strings, seeing that smile on his face whenever the two girls would try to tear each other apart made it so obvious. Not only was it easy and entertaining, but it kept his nails clean too. It’s not like he broke a rule right? They both did this to themselves. “I can’t wait to tell my darling what happened~!” Asmo hums excitedly on his way home to you.

Beel

Lunch time is definitely Beel’s favorite part of the day (and the lunch lady's worst nightmare). He’s golfing down as much food as he could since he’s been so hungry from his last class which was Magical Potions. Whenever his hunger starts to act up, it’s already a struggle not to eat the ingredients to alleviate it, knowing his teacher would scold him just like last time when he chowed down the entire jar of shadow salamander tails. 

He’s lucky whenever you both are paired up together, since you bring him some candies to alleviate his hunger enough for him to focus again. You were his lifesaver. Just the thought of you makes Beel wonder where you were. He went ahead today because you said you needed to see Satan to discuss a project, and you were taking quite a while. He’s had food saved up for you and it’s getting harder for Beel not to eat your share, plus it’s always better when you both eat together. 

The last straw was when he saw Satan in the cafeteria and when he asked the blonde where you were, the fourth born said he couldn’t find you. Beel grabs a few snacks to keep his stomach going when he searches for you. Normally it’s hard to convince Beel to leave the cafeteria during lunch break, but you’re that important for him to abandon the heaping food on his table. He was trained as an angel to be ready for any sort of disaster, and his gut is telling him that something is definitely wrong. He only confirmed it when he was walking down the stairs and saw everything. 

Two girls were laughing and mocking the human he’s grown to love and care for, and when he found you on the bottom of the stairs after a fall, Beel was seeing red. He doesn’t hesitate to slam his fist against the wall and demand silence, because there was no way he was going to let them insult you any further. The two demons saw him and stiffened, quickly running away from the scene to avoid getting caught. The girls knew that Beel would crack their skulls open like he did to that wall if he got his hands on them.

Beel normally would’ve gone after them, but seeing how you’re struggling to get up on your own is what changed his mind and ran to you instead. He doesn’t even get to run all the way, at some point Beel jumps down the last flight of stairs just to reach you quicker. “Tell me if it hurts…” Beel whispers as he tries to help you up. You winced from the pain, and he decided to effortlessly carry you all the way to the infirmary because he would never make you limp this entire trip and deal with the ache. He’s a big demon, and lots of people find him terrifying when aggravated. And yet he’s so gentle when it comes to you.

Being a fangol player, Beel knows what it’s like to hurt yourself. He’s had Lucifer and Mammon help him back to the house after one intense match against the opposing team. The difference is that he could heal a bit more quickly compared to your fragile human body. What normally takes days for his body to regenerate could last months for you. He’s being careful when he carries you to the infirmary, holding you close like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held and he might be right at this point when he watches the nurses patch you up.

Beel is pacing so much outside the infirmary that his twin had to calm him down before he would drill a hole in the middle of the halls, his head is thinking about all of the what-ifs. Luckily you weren’t critical, save for the sprained ankle, but there’s this guilt on his face when he looks through the window and sees your cast. Maybe he should’ve been with you when you went looking for Satan so that he would have protected you, but what’s done is done now. So he focuses on taking care of you and reminding you that you could always rely on him for help.

He brings you some of your favorite treats whenever he comes home from RAD so you both could eat together. At some point, he heard from Solomon that milk is the key for humans to have stronger bones. You tried not to laugh when Beel got a galon just for you, innocently thinking that it would’ve helped you out with your injury if you drank all of it. 

Beel is too nice for a demon, he might be the kindest of the seven brothers. But there’s been this tension around the orange haired demon whenever he’s sharing a class with the two girls that pushed you down those stairs. There's this hardly contained rage and blood lust, so a lot of students avoided mentioning what happened to you around him unless they want to get caught in the crossfire. 

Beel finds it frustrating whenever he feels that he can't do anything about this rage. Watching you limp around in crutches around the house while those girls were striding down the halls without a care, it wasn't fair. It’s taking all his willpower not to just throw them out of the window for what they did to you. He broke several pens whenever he's too angry during class that Satan had to lend him some of his own. He feels this loss of appetite now that you’re not around to share food with him, and whenever he would remember the incident he would bend the metal of his fork, shaping it effortlessly like it’s clay. It’s a matter of concern for the brothers now.

Belphie took his twin out to the gym so Beel could let his frustrations through workouts. He may have destroyed two punching bags, but it was enough to bring down that anger to a safer level now. And during all that, Beel finally confided in his twin. About how he saw those girls mock you, and this innate urge to just see them suffer but it’s impossible to do that without destroying everything in his path. He would get in a lot of trouble, and he knows that would upset you instead. 

“It’s just unfair, you know that they didn’t deserve that…” Just because he was nice doesn’t mean he wasn’t vengeful, but he’s at a loss of what he could do that wouldn’t result in another property damage bill sitting on Lucifer’s desk. Belphie can just sense how his Beel is itching for a bit of revenge, and who is he to deny what his twin wants? 

For Magical Potions, Beel had to partner up with Satan and Belphie since you’ll be absent for the time being. They had the perfect plan, all Satan needed was a good sleight of hand to drop something in their cauldron when he walks by. Given that these two love pulling pranks on Lucifer specifically, they took a page out of their book of schemes for new targets. 

Maybe his brothers forgot to consider that these two demons do not have the same kind of strength or resistance that the eldest had… or they both did this on purpose. Adding hellfire frog legs into the girl’s cauldron during Magical Potions class was actually more explosive than they expected, resulting in awful burns on their skin and hair. Beel’s priority is to take care of you everyday so he didn’t have much time to relish in this side of his that wants to wreak havoc, but he admits that seeing your bullies in pain like this is actually fun. It’s almost as satisfying as those ten stack pancakes he had two days ago… ah great, now he’s getting hungry again.

Beel is coming home to you with a box of your favorite treats. You wanted to try those new batch of sweets from Madame Scream but the brothers kept you in bed rest due to your ankle, so Beel went out of the trouble to get them for you. It took a lot of willpower not to eat a single one on the way back which deserves praise. You’ve been feeding him so many snacks during class to help him focus, this is his way of returning the favor to you. 

He doesn’t bring up what happened during potions class with the girls that pushed you, and he honestly didn’t feel the need to do so since they weren’t important as you are to him. He’s too busy trying to feed you some yummy snacks to even think about that. You only hear about what happened through his twin who was grinning from ear to ear when he recalls the boils and burnt hair. “Well, it’s their fault for not checking their cauldron. They’re not smart and careful like you.” 

Belphie

Belphie found a perfect spot to sleep around RAD where he’s sure Lucifer won’t spot him yet. It’s hidden in the school gardens, a nice secluded area with a small bench surrounded by bushes that would surely keep him out of sight. He’s been slowly putting pillows and blankets he’s brought so that it becomes a little slumber haven for him, and Belphie feels that he’s ready to show you his secret spot. He’d never tell his brothers because he wants to have at least a few minutes alone with you every weekday.

The problem with that plan is that Belphie can’t even find you. He’s already at the verge of passing out from the exhaustion of trying to keep himself awake in his search for you. Lunch in school is normally his nap time allowance, but he really did want to show you this secret hide out so that you both could enjoy it together. 

He runs into his twin who was also looking for you, so it’s better they just stuck together right? Belphie had plans to show Beel anyways once this was done with. They passed by a corner to go upstairs in case you were already in the classroom, and that’s when they both saw you at the bottom of the stairs where those two girls were laughing at you. 

Belphie didn’t know what came over him, but his body could hardly move when he saw you like that. It’s bringing him a lot of bad memories of choices he came to regret until this day, remembering the things he did to you when he threw your body down the stairs. He wanted to forget that, but seeing this whole situation is making that memory repeat in his head. Like the guilt is creeping back to him, and he froze in place not knowing what to do other than to relive the moment. 

Beel grabbed Belphie by the wrist to snap him out of the trance, reminding the youngest that you need some help. The twins came by your side, hoisting your arms over their shoulders to help you in the infirmary. The two girls were already long gone while Belphie was in a frozen state, and Beel would’ve gone after them if not for his twin and you because his family always comes first. 

The one thing that’s comforting Belphie right now is the fact that you’re still alive and breathing, though it can only do so much. He doesn’t like seeing you in pain like this, so he offers a spell so you could sleep through it while the nurse from the infirmary patches you up. He’s quiet the entire time when he watches you rest, Beel tries to talk to his twin about it but he refuses to let his problems known. It’s not like it was hard to guess, Beel can tell what’s bothering his twin but doesn’t mention it. 

Belphie has been taking naps by your side whenever possible, sleeping in your room and making sure to give you sweet dreams each time you start falling asleep. Though he himself couldn’t sleep. Each time he tries to get some shut eye with you, he ends up reliving that day when they found you at the bottom of the stairs. The way those girls mocked you was unforgivable, and he hates how it’s hitting too close to home. Whenever he wakes up, he checks on your pulse while you’re asleep and sighs in relief every time he feels your heart beat. Like it’s the only thing that can calm him down. 

By the time he woke up from his third nightmare, Belphie had enough. If he wants to feel at peace again, then he needs to get rid of the source of the problem. It wasn’t fair that you’re suffering like this, he hates seeing the empty seat next to him in class knowing that you’re supposed to be there instead of staying at home with that cast. Lucifer told him that they’ll be dealing with the matters soon, but Belphie had no intention of listening to them in the first place. 

Belphie has been gradually giving the two girls nightmares, and each night they progressively get worse. From using their phobias against them to waking up from a gorefest nightmare in the middle of the night. It costs them sleep, and Belphie thinks it’s the perfect piece of karma whenever he sees the bags under their eyes getting darker each day. Hair and clothes started to look more haphazard when there’s barely any energy to keep themselves up.

Whenever Belphie shares a class with them, he pulls a little bit of magic to make them fall asleep during class until they get into a lot of trouble. He loves doing this when there are important tests and activities so they’d miss it and fail. No amount of coffee helps keep them awake during the day while the nightmares plague their sleep. The constant fatigue and the lack of sleep is starting to get to them, and Belphie has been observing everything. Movements were more sluggish and alertness has gone below the baseline. Just exactly what Belphie was waiting for. 

It’s a simple plan that leads to the least amount of struggling and effort needed, because all it took was one shove for them to tumble out of the railings and down several flights of stairs. When they’ve finally stopped rolling against the stairs, they hear Belphie’s heavy footsteps as he walks down to their level until he’s stepping on one of them with the heel of his foot. He’d compare them to bugs, but that would be insulting to all insects.

“You know, I had a lot of plans with them that day… I don’t like it when people, even my brothers, decide to ruin them.” His love for you and spoiled attitude is what’s fueling his anger right now, so he had no qualms with pushing them down the next flight of stairs with his foot. And whenever they think it’s over, he goes down and does this again. Like kicking a pebble he’s found on the ground… all the way down to the first floor. 

There’s this satisfied look on his face as soon as he sees the two girls on the floor already at the brink of unconsciousness. He feels so much lighter now, and all he can think of is how he wants to go home to take a nap with you. He doesn’t even walk over to the side, he just steps over the two girls on his way out. 

Belphie comes home with the usual drowsy expression, but you can tell he’s in a much better mood now. He lays down next to you in bed, already hugging you close to his chest while making sure he’s not hurting your ankle. “I think I can get more sleep now…” he says with a confident smile on his lips, lulling you to slumber with him. After that incident, it’s the first in a while that Belphie finally has his usual 10 hour nap. 

[snowstormarts]

hi ,,, what if ,,, you wrote ,,, teaching daemon how to kiss first time ,,,, hello ,,,,,, if thats okay ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;;;,,,,,,,.,,,///,,,

I'm always down to give Daemon some more love but I do have to confess that I struggled a little writing this oneshot here ^^" But I still hope you guys enjoy it, also feel free to send in Ideas & Requests, the ask box is still open :D

This oneshot isn't beta read and was also written in like a a day & a half xD So sorry for any typos or such

"Kissing 101 for Game Bugs turned Human!"

[Daemon x GN!Reader] [Divider Credit]

It wasn't everyday that you got to date a game bug, let alone one that was very attractive and didn't try to infect the other inhabitants or break the game in any serious, unrecoverable manner. He was simply just having some fun, trying to annoy you, scare you even and then one day he just...fell for you. It was a foreign concept, he didn't know he had that code in him to feel real, actual real love and not just another empty line of Code. Quiet frankly he was a little nervous at the beginning, even if it was hard to see with his limited facial expressions.

So then, when the day came where you confessed your feelings for him, he was ecstatic he had assumed it would end in Friendship maybe even Hate. He was sure he didn't do anything that would warrant anyone to look at him with such kind eyes and yet, here you were. Confessing your love to him, making his heart speed up to the point where he thought it was programmed to spring out of his chest and burst into confetti if anyone ever choose to Love him.

After he had calmed himself he confessed without hesitation, asking almost in whisper if he could share a kiss with you. He will never forget the moment where your lips met, it was strange to you that much was clear from your confused yet delighted hums. It truly was the strangest kiss you ever had and probably will have, it wasn't bad, just strange in a nice, special Daemon way and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

You promised him afterwards that he would be the first one to be realized. He didn't even have to wait long since the first thing that happened the next morning was you walking up to him, smiling as you offered him to be realized. It was a quick process, his excitement was clear to see on his now very expression full face he was looking at himself. He was no longer full of glitched textures, he wasn't a bug anymore, he wasn't some broken sprite he was himself, Daemon.

It was sweet watching him, even when he stopped and turned to you with a wide smile you could see his excitement still burning under his skin. You had expected that at this point he would've run over to you, lifting you up and spinning you round and around but he just stood there. Not even a kiss, after a few more awkward minutes of silence he finally asked you something, something that made you realize that being a Game Bug was very, very different from being a fully programmed object.

"Why doesn't my code work? I gave it in right way, Player_Kiss = true...Am I doing something wrong? Do humans have a different code they use?"

Seems like it's your job to teach him how to human, starting with how to kiss you.

⊱ ─────────── {⋅. ☣🪲 .⋅} ─────────── ⊰

The first lesson you taught him was the importance of breathing and taking breaks from kissing, you rather not risk one of you passing out from lack of it. You don't need yet another embarrassing story on your pile of embarrassments that would be used by your anxiety in the middle of the night or Doug.

The second lesson was an unplanned one, you two were enjoying watching a movie on Telly when it showed two of the characters giving each other a forehead kiss. It was a rather sweet moment which only got even cuter when you turned to Daemon who had been nudging your arm, his head was tilted to the side similar to a confused puppy.

"Why are they kissing each others forehead? Did they miss the lips or is this some form of enhanced kissing? But then why didn't I have a code for it...Is it because they had a fight the last time? Do you get banned from kisses when you have a fight?"

"It's another way to kiss someone, forehead kisses can be platonic or romantic. Many parents kiss their kid on the forehead. Sometimes friends will also kiss your forehead or your cheek, in some country's cheek kisses are a way to greet others.

"Are forehead kisses also a form of greeting someone?"

"Well, I guess if you know the person well and they're comfortable with it you could kiss them on the forehead as a greeting. But normally at least from what I know, forehead kisses are reserved to show care and love for someone."

"You humans are truly confusing..."

"Hey! You're human now, don't forget that!"

"Hmm, true..."

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you continued to watch the movie, in the end all was good even if the main character had sacrificed himself to safe his love and his clone. And just as you were about to ask Daemon his opinion on the movie he turned to face you, his hand lifted up your chin as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

"I need to gather data about this Forehead and Cheek kissing, would you allow me to practice on you, my love?"

"Of course we can, what would you like to start with? I myself prefer to go with a-" you cut yourself short as you saw your partner lean closer at top speed. "Wait! Daemon, that's too fast!!!"

You both groaned in pain, holding your foreheads as you slowly recovered from the sudden headbutt. The lesson was cut short as you both suffered from a killer headache, at least the next day you explained that he needed to lean in slowly and to aim for the top or middle of the forehead and not between your eyebrows.

A few days later you decided that he was ready for third and last lesson, well it's more like kissing practice but still you count it as a lesson instead of a test or such. You had enough talking about it, kissing needs physical practice anyway and you were the perfect test dummy! Especially since you don't think Amir or Betty would be that happy if Daemon started kissing them out of nowhere...

"This is the last lesson, today you will learn how to properly kiss another person, well more specifically me but you get what I mean!" You waved your hand ignoring his teasing smile as you continued to speak.

"Today there's much more touch needed, you will learn all the different ways how to kiss another. From kissing someones hand to a regular kiss, maybe if everything goes right I will even teach you how to french kiss."

"...I don't want to kiss, Scandalabra."

"No, no that's just what its called it has nothing to do with Scandalabra. I would never let you go through that, trust me your lips are only for me."

"Good, I don't wanna be near him." You nodded in agreement.

"Same here but back to the lesson! First we will do a hand kiss, it can be romantic or to show respect to someone or both. I will demonstrate it and then you do the same with me, got that?"

"Got it." He replied, holding his hands out to you. You gently grabbed one and caressed the back of it before placing a kiss in the middle of it.

"Now it's your turn and remember, be gentle. Theres no need to rush." Holding your hand out you watched him as he grabbed your hand a bit firmer then he usually does. It took a minute or two before he had gathered up the nerves to lean down and place a kiss on each one of your knuckles.

When he looked up at you, eyes meeting one another as he smiled with so much joy that you were sure he could've replaced the sun in this very moment to bring light to even the darkest spots in your home.

"Did I do it right?"

"Yes, you did a great job. I just didn't expect you to go for the knuckles, it was quiet sweet though so no complaints from me." His smile grew wider as he intertwined your hands together.

"Now to a kiss on the cheek, you have to watch to not bump noses besides that don't add too much pressure into the kiss. Our cheeks are quiet soft and squishy but they can still hurt, let me show you." Without hesitation you poked and squished his face all the while he was trying to nip at your fingers in retaliation.

After you had your fun, you followed your own instructions ignoring the way your partner was pouting at you. His cheeks turned rosy from the mix of affection and the cheek squishing from before, which only deepened after you placed a kiss on his cheek and then another and another and another.

You only stopped once he complained about having his turn. One thing you always noticed and loved about him were his hands, they always felt tingly, static-y. It reminded you of those old, heavy TV's that when you touched the screen would having this energy around them. His kisses on the other hand were normal, maybe it lingered a bit longer but you didn't think much about it. But you could swear that sometimes you felt something brush gently against the back of your neck and when you turn around there would be nothing, maybe it was just your hair or some dust floating around?

"Was that good?" He asked again, if he had a tail it would be wagging back and forth wildly as you nodded again. His foot tapped against the ground in anticipation. "Can we kiss now? The regular one, not the other one."

For a second you thought of staying on track but the mix of his excitement and the worry of him trying to speed up the progress and causing another headache fiasco made you rethink it. You were getting a little impatient yourself if you were honest, so why not?

"Fine but only because you're that adorable. Now, listen closely" he leaned closer to you, hands resting on each side of you or well hand though it did feel like the couch had dipped from some unknown weight not even a moment ago.

"We both will have to angle our faces, when you need to breath do so through your nose or break the kiss up ok? No holding your breath until you pass out just because you wanted more, we can always kiss again after we caught our breaths."

"Of course." Without much a due you pulled him closer, letting him fall onto you and cage you between the couch and himself. Pulling his head down by the neck and kissing him like he was going to fade away any second now, he let out a pleasant groan and then you felt it again.

Hands all across your body, on your neck, hips, arms and even your tights and those were soon followed by the feeling of kisses. Your neck was the main target but you could feel it also along your back, hands and even your legs, they left behind the static again which soon turned into a comforting heat.

They only disappeared when you two parted, taking in as much air as possible. Foreheads resting against each other, you with your eyes closed and Daemons white, pupil-less eyes staring right at you with a wide grin.

"Did you like it my love? I can give you more if you want, I need all the practice to perfect my kissing techniques after all~"

You never could deny him, especially now that he had stocked the ember into a burning, hungry flame. So you continued to share kisses and sweet nothings until the sun went down and the moonlight illuminated your body's. What was to come next is only to be known between you, Daemon and the moon.

[nostalgebraist]

Anthropic's stated "AI timelines" seem wildly aggressive to me.

As far as I can tell, they are now saying that by 2028 – and possibly even by 2027, or late 2026 – something they call "powerful AI" will exist.

And by "powerful AI," they mean... this (source, emphasis mine):

In terms of pure intelligence, it is smarter than a Nobel Prize winner across most relevant fields – biology, programming, math, engineering, writing, etc. This means it can prove unsolved mathematical theorems, write extremely good novels, write difficult codebases from scratch, etc. In addition to just being a “smart thing you talk to”, it has all the “interfaces” available to a human working virtually, including text, audio, video, mouse and keyboard control, and internet access. It can engage in any actions, communications, or remote operations enabled by this interface, including taking actions on the internet, taking or giving directions to humans, ordering materials, directing experiments, watching videos, making videos, and so on. It does all of these tasks with, again, a skill exceeding that of the most capable humans in the world. It does not just passively answer questions; instead, it can be given tasks that take hours, days, or weeks to complete, and then goes off and does those tasks autonomously, in the way a smart employee would, asking for clarification as necessary. It does not have a physical embodiment (other than living on a computer screen), but it can control existing physical tools, robots, or laboratory equipment through a computer; in theory it could even design robots or equipment for itself to use. The resources used to train the model can be repurposed to run millions of instances of it (this matches projected cluster sizes by ~2027), and the model can absorb information and generate actions at roughly 10x-100x human speed. It may however be limited by the response time of the physical world or of software it interacts with. Each of these million copies can act independently on unrelated tasks, or if needed can all work together in the same way humans would collaborate, perhaps with different subpopulations fine-tuned to be especially good at particular tasks.

In the post I'm quoting, Amodei is coy about the timeline for this stuff, saying only that

I think it could come as early as 2026, though there are also ways it could take much longer. But for the purposes of this essay, I’d like to put these issues aside [...]

However, other official communications from Anthropic have been more specific. Most notable is their recent OSTP submission, which states (emphasis in original):

Based on current research trajectories, we anticipate that powerful AI systems could emerge as soon as late 2026 or 2027 [...] Powerful AI technology will be built during this Administration. [i.e. the current Trump administration -nost]

See also here, where Jack Clark says (my emphasis):

People underrate how significant and fast-moving AI progress is. We have this notion that in late 2026, or early 2027, powerful AI systems will be built that will have intellectual capabilities that match or exceed Nobel Prize winners. They’ll have the ability to navigate all of the interfaces… [Clark goes on, mentioning some of the other tenets of "powerful AI" as in other Anthropic communications -nost]

----

To be clear, extremely short timelines like these are not unique to Anthropic.

Miles Brundage (ex-OpenAI) says something similar, albeit less specific, in this post. And Daniel Kokotajlo (also ex-OpenAI) has held views like this for a long time now.

Even Sam Altman himself has said similar things (though in much, much vaguer terms, both on the content of the deliverable and the timeline).

Still, Anthropic's statements are unique in being

official positions of the company

extremely specific and ambitious about the details

extremely aggressive about the timing, even by the standards of "short timelines" AI prognosticators in the same social cluster

Re: ambition, note that the definition of "powerful AI" seems almost the opposite of what you'd come up with if you were trying to make a confident forecast of something.

Often people will talk about "AI capable of transforming the world economy" or something more like that, leaving room for the AI in question to do that in one of several ways, or to do so while still failing at some important things.

But instead, Anthropic's definition is a big conjunctive list of "it'll be able to do this and that and this other thing and...", and each individual capability is defined in the most aggressive possible way, too! Not just "good enough at science to be extremely useful for scientists," but "smarter than a Nobel Prize winner," across "most relevant fields" (whatever that means). And not just good at science but also able to "write extremely good novels" (note that we have a long way to go on that front, and I get the feeling that people at AI labs don't appreciate the extent of the gap [cf]). Not only can it use a computer interface, it can use every computer interface; not only can it use them competently, but it can do so better than the best humans in the world. And all of that is in the first two paragraphs – there's four more paragraphs I haven't even touched in this little summary!

Re: timing, they have even shorter timelines than Kokotajlo these days, which is remarkable since he's historically been considered "the guy with the really short timelines." (See here where Kokotajlo states a median prediction of 2028 for "AGI," by which he means something less impressive than "powerful AI"; he expects something close to the "powerful AI" vision ["ASI"] ~1 year or so after "AGI" arrives.)

----

I, uh, really do not think this is going to happen in "late 2026 or 2027."

Or even by the end of this presidential administration, for that matter.

I can imagine it happening within my lifetime – which is wild and scary and marvelous. But in 1.5 years?!

The confusing thing is, I am very familiar with the kinds of arguments that "short timelines" people make, and I still find the Anthropic's timelines hard to fathom.

Above, I mentioned that Anthropic has shorter timelines than Daniel Kokotajlo, who "merely" expects the same sort of thing in 2029 or so. This probably seems like hairsplitting – from the perspective of your average person not in these circles, both of these predictions look basically identical, "absurdly good godlike sci-fi AI coming absurdly soon." What difference does an extra year or two make, right?

But it's salient to me, because I've been reading Kokotajlo for years now, and I feel like I basically get understand his case. And people, including me, tend to push back on him in the "no, that's too soon" direction. I've read many many blog posts and discussions over the years about this sort of thing, I feel like I should have a handle on what the short-timelines case is.

But even if you accept all the arguments evinced over the years by Daniel "Short Timelines" Kokotajlo, even if you grant all the premises he assumes and some people don't – that still doesn't get you all the way to the Anthropic timeline!

To give a very brief, very inadequate summary, the standard "short timelines argument" right now is like:

Over the next few years we will see a "growth spurt" in the amount of computing power ("compute") used for the largest LLM training runs. This factor of production has been largely stagnant since GPT-4 in 2023, for various reasons, but new clusters are getting built and the metaphorical car will get moving again soon. (See here)

By convention, each "GPT number" uses ~100x as much training compute as the last one. GPT-3 used ~100x as much as GPT-2, and GPT-4 used ~100x as much as GPT-3 (i.e. ~10,000x as much as GPT-2).

We are just now starting to see "~10x GPT-4 compute" models (like Grok 3 and GPT-4.5). In the next few years we will get to "~100x GPT-4 compute" models, and by 2030 will will reach ~10,000x GPT-4 compute.

If you think intuitively about "how much GPT-4 improved upon GPT-3 (100x less) or GPT-2 (10,000x less)," you can maybe convince yourself that these near-future models will be super-smart in ways that are difficult to precisely state/imagine from our vantage point. (GPT-4 was way smarter than GPT-2; it's hard to know what "projecting that forward" would mean, concretely, but it sure does sound like something pretty special)

Meanwhile, all kinds of (arguably) complementary research is going on, like allowing models to "think" for longer amounts of time, giving them GUI interfaces, etc.

All that being said, there's still a big intuitive gap between "ChatGPT, but it's much smarter under the hood" and anything like "powerful AI." But...

...the LLMs are getting good enough that they can write pretty good code, and they're getting better over time. And depending on how you interpret the evidence, you may be able to convince yourself that they're also swiftly getting better at other tasks involved in AI development, like "research engineering." So maybe you don't need to get all the way yourself, you just need to build an AI that's a good enough AI developer that it improves your AIs faster than you can, and then those AIs are even better developers, etc. etc. (People in this social cluster are really keen on the importance of exponential growth, which is generally a good trait to have but IMO it shades into "we need to kick off exponential growth and it'll somehow do the rest because it's all-powerful" in this case.)

And like, I have various disagreements with this picture.

For one thing, the "10x" models we're getting now don't seem especially impressive – there has been a lot of debate over this of course, but reportedly these models were disappointing to their own developers, who expected scaling to work wonders (using the kind of intuitive reasoning mentioned above) and got less than they hoped for.

And (in light of that) I think it's double-counting to talk about the wonders of scaling and then talk about reasoning, computer GUI use, etc. as complementary accelerating factors – those things are just table stakes at this point, the models are already maxing out the tasks you had defined previously, you've gotta give them something new to do or else they'll just sit there wasting GPUs when a smaller model would have sufficed.

And I think we're already at a point where nuances of UX and "character writing" and so forth are more of a limiting factor than intelligence. It's not a lack of "intelligence" that gives us superficially dazzling but vapid "eyeball kick" prose, or voice assistants that are deeply uncomfortable to actually talk to, or (I claim) "AI agents" that get stuck in loops and confuse themselves, or any of that.

We are still stuck in the "Helpful, Harmless, Honest Assistant" chatbot paradigm – no one has seriously broke with it since that Anthropic introduced it in a paper in 2021 – and now that paradigm is showing its limits. ("Reasoning" was strapped onto this paradigm in a simple and fairly awkward way, the new "reasoning" models are still chatbots like this, no one is actually doing anything else.) And instead of "okay, let's invent something better," the plan seems to be "let's just scale up these assistant chatbots and try to get them to self-improve, and they'll figure it out." I won't try to explain why in this post (IYI I kind of tried to here) but I really doubt these helpful/harmless guys can bootstrap their way into winning all the Nobel Prizes.

----

All that stuff I just said – that's where I differ from the usual "short timelines" people, from Kokotajlo and co.

But OK, let's say that for the sake of argument, I'm wrong and they're right. It still seems like a pretty tough squeeze to get to "powerful AI" on time, doesn't it?

In the OSTP submission, Anthropic presents their latest release as evidence of their authority to speak on the topic:

In February 2025, we released Claude 3.7 Sonnet, which is by many performance benchmarks the most powerful and capable commercially-available AI system in the world.

I've used Claude 3.7 Sonnet quite a bit. It is indeed really good, by the standards of these sorts of things!

But it is, of course, very very far from "powerful AI." So like, what is the fine-grained timeline even supposed to look like? When do the many, many milestones get crossed? If they're going to have "powerful AI" in early 2027, where exactly are they in mid-2026? At end-of-year 2025?

If I assume that absolutely everything goes splendidly well with no unexpected obstacles – and remember, we are talking about automating all human intellectual labor and all tasks done by humans on computers, but sure, whatever – then maybe we get the really impressive next-gen models later this year or early next year... and maybe they're suddenly good at all the stuff that has been tough for LLMs thus far (the "10x" models already released show little sign of this but sure, whatever)... and then we finally get into the self-improvement loop in earnest, and then... what?

They figure out to squeeze even more performance out of the GPUs? They think of really smart experiments to run on the cluster? Where are they going to get all the missing information about how to do every single job on earth, the tacit knowledge, the stuff that's not in any web scrape anywhere but locked up in human minds and inaccessible private data stores? Is an experiment designed by a helpful-chatbot AI going to finally crack the problem of giving chatbots the taste to "write extremely good novels," when that taste is precisely what "helpful-chatbot AIs" lack?

I guess the boring answer is that this is all just hype – tech CEO acts like tech CEO, news at 11. (But I don't feel like that can be the full story here, somehow.)

And the scary answer is that there's some secret Anthropic private info that makes this all more plausible. (But I doubt that too – cf. Brundage's claim that there are no more secrets like that now, the short-timelines cards are all on the table.)

It just does not make sense to me. And (as you can probably tell) I find it very frustrating that these guys are out there talking about how human thought will basically be obsolete in a few years, and pontificating about how to find new sources of meaning in life and stuff, without actually laying out an argument that their vision – which would be the common concern of all of us, if it were indeed on the horizon – is actually likely to occur on the timescale they propose.

It would be less frustrating if I were being asked to simply take it on faith, or explicitly on the basis of corporate secret knowledge. But no, the claim is not that, it's something more like "now, now, I know this must sound far-fetched to the layman, but if you really understand 'scaling laws' and 'exponential growth,' and you appreciate the way that pretraining will be scaled up soon, then it's simply obvious that –"

No! Fuck that! I've read the papers you're talking about, I know all the arguments you're handwaving-in-the-direction-of! It still doesn't add up!

[koenigami]

“skyhaven - x02. 20th neural control experiment. test subject is starting to adapt. prepare higher voltage-”

there’s a deep voice that documents the horrific video recordings. your hands shake, fingers hovering above the computer keys as you contemplate whether to stop your suffering. or rather, his suffering?

mechanical sounds and buzzes fill the dark room you've snuck inside. when his whimpers and pain induced groans reach your ears, your stomach drops. goosebumps litter your skin, and you swear you start feeling nauseous.

confidential files related to protocores. that’s what you came here for initially. caleb himself had made sure you could easily snoop around a bit through the fleet's archives, of course only with restricted access to limited files and programs.

the pictures and videos of your lover being tortured and experimented on until he was barely conscious… those have not been locked away behind a secret passcode.

just as you’re about to pull the usb drive out and turn everything off, unable to watch him suffer any longer, the sound of a door falling shut behing you catches your attention.

“did you find what you were looking-”

caleb freezes and swallows thickly once he recognizes his own voice in the background, the video still playing. almost as if on loop. the same procedures over and over again. never ending torture. instinctively, his left hand moves up to clutch his right arm, the all too familiar phantom pain flaring up again once he sees his own convulsing body on the monitor.

“caleb…”

but none of the pain compares to the one that shoots through his chest once he notices the look on your face. he's seen you terrified before. he's been with you at the haunted house in town when you were younger. he's held you through the strongest storms, and comforted you in the darkest nights when sleep wouldn’t come easy to you. but this-

“pips.” your body recoils when his hand reaches out to you, his fingertips barely grazing your wet cheek.

he knows that the betrayal runs deep because he’s never uttered a word to you about the things that he’s been through. nervously, he combs his fingers through his hair while he watches you frantically approach the desk again and close the tab of the video. though the silence doesn’t last long.

“they hurt you.” shaken, breathless. as if you've been physically put through the same pain that he has been through.

“it wasn’t that bad-”

“it was.” once the first sob escapes you, you’re unable to control them. on shaky legs, you eventually do take careful steps towards him as if he were a wounded animal. that’s why he didn’t tell you. he's not deserving of your pity. it's only his burden to bear. “i don’t even want to imagine how much pain y-you had to endure.”

all alone. by himself. not a single soul to hold his hand through the atrocious experiments that they conducted on him. no one to confide in. just your caleb, all by himself. your soft cries and sniffs pierce his heart like daggers when you try to muffle them behind your palm.

“no, no, no… hey, c'mere.” his warm embrace envelops you instantly like a safe cocoon, though instead you wish you could have done the same for him during his darkest times. you feel his lips on the side of your head as he hushes you gently, his right arm around your waist so steady yet so cold. “it’s okay. to be honest, i barely even remember a thing.”

he doesn’t. but his body does, and so does his subconsciousness since otherwise he wouldn’t be plagued by nightly dreams that remind him of every single second spent in that lab.

“i won't-” your throat bobs as you try to take a breath, and you feel caleb's hand press into your spine to straighten your back. with your iron grip on his uniform, it’s as if you feared he would slip right through your hands. but it’s your next words that make his stomach churn and tears sting his own eyes. “i won’t let them hurt you again, caleb. i promise.”

and you’re going to hunt them down. every single one of them.

[liberalsarecool]

Here's Trump's next target — according to the tyrant's playbook | by Robert Reich

Trump is following Putin’s, Xi’s, and Orban’s playbook. First, take over military and intelligence operations by purging career officers and substituting ones personally loyal to you.

Next, subdue the courts by ignoring or threatening to ignore court rulings you disagree with.

Intimidate legislators by warning that if they don’t bend to your wishes, you’ll run loyalists against them. (Make sure they also worry about what your violent supporters could do to them and their families.)

Then focus on independent sources of information: the media and the universities. Sue media that publish critical stories and block their access to news conferences and interviews.

Then go after the universities.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last week, Trump threatened in a social media post to punish any university that permits “illegal” protests. On Friday he cancelled hundreds of millions in grants and contracts with Columbia University.

This is an extension of Republican tactics before Trump’s second term. Prior to Trump appointing her ambassador to the United Nations, former Representative Elise Stefanik (Harvard class of 2006) browbeat presidents of elite universities over their responses to student protests against Israel’s bombardment of Gaza, leading to several presidents being fired.

Senator Josh Hawley (Stanford class of 2002 and Yale Law class of 2006) called the student demonstrations signs of “moral rot” at the universities.

But antisemitism was just a pretext.

JD Vance (Yale Law 2013) has termed university professors “the enemy” and suggested using Victor Orban’s method for ending “left-wing domination of universities.”

I think his way has to be the model for us: not to eliminate universities, but to give them a choice between survival or taking a much less biased approach to teaching. [The government should be] aggressively reforming institutions … in a way to where they’re much more open to conservative ideas.”

Trump is also targeting diversity, equity, and inclusion programs on university campuses.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

But of all Trump’s and Republicans’ moves against higher education, the most destructive is the cancelation of research grants and contracts. The destruction is hardly confined to Columbia and other suspected left-wing bastions.

Research universities depend on funding from the National Science Foundation and the National Institutes of Health.

Trump reportedly aims to slash the budget of the National Science Foundation by up to two-thirds. And he’s instructed the National Institutes of Health to no longer honor negotiated rates for “indirect costs” on grants that it administers — money that universities use for laboratory space and research equipment.

In defiance of court orders, Trump has largely maintained a freeze on NIH funding.

As a result, many of America’s great research universities have stopped hiring and are cutting Ph.D. programs — in some cases rescinding offers to accepted students.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Trump’s moves are consistent with the tyrant’s playbook, but they’re also jeopardizing America’s national security and competitiveness.

Trump speaks of putting America First, but his attack on the nation’s great research universities is ensuring that the U.S. comes in second — to China.

Although America has long been the global leader in scientific output, China is now surging ahead. Even before Trump’s cuts in research funding, China was projected to match U.S. research spending within five years.

China has already surpassed the U.S. as the top producer of highly cited papers and international patent applications. It now awards more science and engineering Ph.D.s than the U.S.

Tyrants close universities. Fascists burn books. Trump is destroying America’s most important asset — its innovative mind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Robert Reich is a professor of public policy at Berkeley and former secretary of labor. His writings can be found at https://robertreich.substack.com/.

[themilfsland]

Under the forbidden tree - Part I

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 10k

Summary: A break from your studies and work. A program dedicated to foster children you decided to join. A weekend of faith, charity, and innocence under the watchful eye of the Westview church. But beneath the prayers and borrowed smiles, something unholy stirs.

- "...but have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone."

tags | content: Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, improper use of religion itens, praying for grace.

A/N: My initial plan was to create an one-shot, but it ended up being too long, so I decided to split it into two parts. Honestly, I’m still not sure if that was the better choice, but anyway. Enjoy :)

Fic menu | Part II

You were running late, but not as much as the ride your friend, Yelena, had promised you.

As you packed the last pieces of clothing you had laid out on the bed — "toothbrush, comfortable sneakers, sunscreen, hairbrush, cap, towel... vibrator?!" — your mental checklist came to an abrupt halt when your eyes landed on the object placed inside one of the suitcase compartments. "Do I need to bring this?" - you wondered, a pang of guilt creeping into your conscience. Bringing your toy to a church retreat might not be the wisest decision — actually, it was a terrible one. The possibility of boredom wasn’t a valid excuse, nor was the fact that finding a moment of privacy in your friend's apartment was nearly impossible.

Your thoughts drifted beyond the present — this week marked two months since you had temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s apartment. You could call it luck or mere coincidence, but either way, it had been a huge help.

A few months ago, you received an offer to work and study temporarily at a psychiatric hospital unit in Westview. At first, you considered turning it down — far from home, a small town that felt more like a village, completely different from your life, nothing particularly appealing. However, after an honest conversation with your favourite college professor, your perspective shifted. Finding out the significant research advancements happening there reignited your interest.

But, of course, there was still one major issue — where would you stay during that period? Money was tight, and there weren’t many good housing options in Westview. That’s when Yelena practically "fell from the sky" — or rather, her girlfriend, Kate, did, stepping in to help with everything you were missing — they were your saviour.

Two weeks after accepting the offer, you stood in front of Kate’s apartment with your small collection of belongings. In a quick rundown, Yelena had explained that she met Kate at an exhibition of ancient artefacts —more specifically, weapons and combat objects. Well, none of that surprised you. In fact, you made a mental note, wondering how it was even possible for more people to share Yelena’s questionable and somewhat violent interests. Either way, things moved quickly after that, and now Kate was working in a neighbouring city to Westview. Yes, even though you had to travel a few extra miles to the hospital where you’d be working and studying for the next few months, this was still the best option, and you were incredibly grateful for it. Oh, and of course, the small yet not-so-insignificant detail — less than a month after Kate settled into her apartment, Yelena invited herself to move in. Classic.

A knock on your bedroom door pulled you back to the present. The door suddenly swung open, followed by Yelena shouting, - “I’m home! Are you still not ready? Let’s go!”

You jumped in surprise and quickly shut your suitcase. Any hesitation you previously had about the vibrator was gone. It was coming with you, whether because you no longer had the chance to take it out or simply because privacy in this apartment is definitely not an option. Maybe, in a quiet place, free from interruptions, you’d finally get to enjoy a moment to yourself.

----

On the way to Westview, Yelena convinced you to make a quick stop at a Café. After all, a little caffeine would be welcome before hitting the road.

- "Are you sure about this, Y/N?" - Yelena asked, her expression filled with doubt.

- "You mean doing a little charity work by volunteering for the kids at the orphanage?" - you replied with a question of your own.

- "Yes... I mean, not exactly about helping out, but you know, this is a project run by the Westview church community..." - her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

- "I know, I get what you're trying to say." - You let out a small laugh. - "Honestly, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of spending the next few days at a church ‘club.’ Religion really isn’t my thing..."

Yelena was trying her best to not look judgmental, but she was failing miserably.

- "Look, it’s not going to be the best place or the best people, but I’m doing this for the kids. Giving them a weekend of fun, games, and a chance to breathe some fresh air outside of the orphanage. It’s worth it." - you continued.

Yelena stared at you while taking another sip of her coffee, carefully choosing her next words.

- "Okay, I’m still not completely convinced by that excuse." - You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a better response. - "But since you’ve decided, I should warn you that where you're going is far from being a ‘club.’ Kate and I went there once. Honestly, the place looks like the perfect setting for a period horror film. There's only a chapel and three large wooden buildings."

You were about to argue, but she cut you off.

- "No, don’t defend the place before you’ve even seen it. You’ll agree with me later. Oh, and before you ask what Kate and I were doing there — the only, and I mean only, good part is the huge, beautiful lake. Great for swimming or just relaxing."

You let out a long sigh and nodded, choosing to avoid a pointless argument.

- "Maybe the truth is... I just need a short break," - you admitted in a low voice, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself.

You could hear Yelena’s voice in the background — she was probably giving you a lecture about neglecting self-care and not recognizing your limits. But her words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, your thoughts louder than her voice, dragging you back to the exhausting days at the hospital.

--

- "Y/N adapted so quickly here, didn’t she, Darcy?" -Jimmy asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

- "Yeah! A little too quickly, actually. But she got lucky that we don’t currently have any patients going into the ‘dark book,’" - Darcy replied, giving you a playful wink.

The three of you were in the hospital’s break room, taking a short rest and having what might be lunch or maybe even dinner — with shifts so chaotic and schedules a mess from the overwhelming workload, this was probably your biggest meal of the day — a combo of lunch and dinner.

- "'Dark book'? What’s that?" - You asked, puzzled.

Jimmy shot Darcy a disapproving look as if she had just brought up a forbidden topic. Then, turning back to you, he answered in a tone that was far too cold. - "It’s nothing big, Y/N. Just reports on patients with more complex cases. In these instances, to protect their future, all records are archived under strict confidentiality. Once they’re discharged, it’s as if their past is erased — so there’s no public speculation and they can reintegrate into society more easily."

The idea intrigued you. What kind of cases could be so dark that they needed to be kept secret, their pasts wiped clean?

- "That sounds interesting, but I have my doubts about you two keeping secrets. I can practically read it on your faces that you know more than you're letting on."

Darcy let out a loud laugh before responding. - "Of course we do… and yet, we don’t." - She chuckled again. - "But honestly, we respect that confidentiality rule. I think it’s fair."

You weren’t satisfied with that vague answer, and your curiosity got the best of you. - "Oh, come on, guys! It won’t hurt anyone if you share just a little of what you know. Besides, I’ll be gone in a few months anyway." - You gave them your best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Jimmy chuckled before finally speaking. - "Look, Y/N, you can dig around in our library all you want, but you won’t find anything with real details. Even we, after years here, barely have any real information."

Darcy nodded in agreement and added, - "He’s not lying, Y/N. We don’t even know the patients’ names. All we ever get are bits and pieces of stories that float around the hallways."

You kept staring, silently pushing for more, until she finally gave in. - "Jimmy, do you remember that guy who used to pull pranks on other patients? Even on Dr Strange? He was absolute chaos."

Jimmy refused to say a word, just shooting her another disapproving look.

- "Oh, come on, Jimmy. Everyone here knows at least one story about that guy, don’t give me that judgmental silence." - She smirked before continuing. - "But fine, I know you were way more interested in that other guy… the one who almost turned green when he got angry."

Jimmy scoffed. - "Now that’s a low blow. Of course, that case was more interesting, but don’t even try to change the subject. Your real obsession was that crazy patient who kept rambling nonsense and scribbling in that little red notebook… the one with those three initials on the cover."

You and Darcy were about to press him for more when Dr. Strange walked into the room. - "I believe the break is over. Time to get back to the studies."

--

- "Y/N? Are you listening to me?" - Yelena said, shaking your arm. - “Y/N!! Earth to you, hello??”

You were snapped back to reality by the pinch she gave you.

- “OUCH, YELENA! I’m here, and that hurts!!” - you grumbled, rubbing the spot where she had pinched you.

- “Yeah, yeah, I can see that you're here, physically, at least. But your mind? Oh, it went far, far away from here,” - she retorted with a disappointed tone. - “Anyway, you do seem like you need a break. Maybe your crazy idea isn’t so bad after all.”

She continued speaking as she grabbed her bag from the chair.

- “Speaking of enjoyment, I got you a little present.” - A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she pointed to a small wrapped box in front of you. - “BUT — you can only open it once you get there. You have to promise me.” - She winked at you as she handed over the gift.

Still unsure, you took the package and shot her a suspicious look. - “This is so unlike you… but okay, I’ll accept this rare expression of affection.”

Her mouth fell open in mock offence at your comment — though she was well aware that acts like this weren’t exactly her style.

Well, you’d understand soon enough once you saw what was inside the box.

----

No matter how many times you drove down the road to Westview, you never grew tired of the natural beauty surrounding you — the towering trees lining the way, the fresh breeze streaming through the open window of the car, if you were lucky, you could even hear the birds singing as they soared through the sky.

As expected, the location was just beyond the entrance to town, requiring a small detour off the main road. A wave of anticipation and gratitude washed over you. You were excited about all the opportunities the universe was laying before you— and, of course, grateful that your friend was here to support you. After all, she was doing you a huge favour by giving you a ride. The designated arrival day for volunteers and children was technically set for tomorrow, Saturday. However, Yelena and Kate had already arranged a small camping excursion for the weekend. Not wanting to interfere with their plans, you reached out to the project administration to inquire about the possibility of arriving a day in advance. Fortunately, they responded quickly, assuring you that it wasn’t a problem — on the contrary, it was common for some team members to arrive early to help with preparations.

Once again, your mind wandered, and before you even noticed, Yelena was already steering into the front garden and parking the car.

- "Alright, are you ready to spend your next few days praying and dying of boredom?" - Yelena teased, her voice dripping with irony.

You let out a laugh. - "Girl, you are sooo dramatic! It won’t be that bad. I have high hopes it’ll be fun, and time will fly by. Just don’t forget to pick me up." - You tried to sound confident, though deep down, you had your own doubts about how interesting this place would be.

Yelena stifled a mocking chuckle, gripping the door handle. She turned her head toward you and stated, - "Good luck, then, Y/N. But seriously, don’t fool yourself into thinking this place is all rainbows and sunshine. When you’re sitting in that chapel praying…" - she pointed outside toward the small building, "… you’ll remember me and what I’m telling you now. There are a lot of weird people around here, so don’t be too easily convinced by good manners."

Without giving you a chance to argue, she swung open the car door.

You shared a brief embrace and a farewell kiss on the cheek. With a final wave, you watched the car fade into the distance.

Drawing in a deep breath, you turned toward the small gathering nearby and began making your way toward them. As you neared, a woman in the group noticed you and greeted you with enthusiasm.

- "Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome!"

The surrounding chatter ceased as the others turned their attention to you.

- "You must be Y/N, right? I’m Monica," - she said, extending her hand to greet you. You shook her hand in return, slightly surprised at her accurate guess.

- "Yes, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you! But… um, how did you know my name?" - you asked, suddenly aware that all eyes were on you.

- "I was the one who replied to your email about arriving a day early," - she said with a warm smile. - "I was just talking about you! We don’t get new volunteers here very often, so we’re happy to have you."

She glanced at the others and began introducing them from right to left.

- "This is Clint, Scott, Agatha, and Wanda."

They all welcomed you with warm smiles. A slight unease tingled up your spine — being in the spotlight had never been your comfort zone. Clint seemed to notice your nervousness and spoke up.

- "Hey, don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll guide you through the activity schedule. Today will be pretty relaxed — we’re just preparing the welcome for tomorrow and taking care of some last-minute details."

You nodded and muttered a "thank you."

It was also evident that holding onto your luggage was wearing you out, so Monica swiftly added, - "Alright, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know Y/N over the next few days, but for now, I think it would be best to show her around. Wanda, would you mind?"

Without hesitation, Wanda stepped forward and gently took your suitcase from your hands. - "It would be my pleasure! There’s so much to do here — you’re going to love it. But first, let’s drop off your things in your room so they don’t get in the way during our little tour."

She flashed a warm smile, gesturing for you to follow, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the vivid green of her eyes.

----

The place itself didn’t have much in terms of infrastructure, just as Yelena had warned you. There was the chapel, a large house that served as the dining hall and the main space for meetings and activities, and two additional buildings that housed the dormitories.

Fortunately, since you had arrived early, Wanda informed you that you could choose between a shared or private room. That was an easy decision—a private room, without a doubt.

Wanda followed up with something you weren’t expecting.

- "Alright, a private room for the young lady. But you should know, Y/N, that nothing can be hidden around here."

You stared at her, speechless and confused about the meaning behind her words, until she continued.

- "I’m talking about the bathroom, darling. The restrooms here are communal, but don’t worry — there’s hot water and plenty of stalls for everyone in the building."

That was… disappointing. Not the worst thing in the world, but you had always valued your privacy— especially in a place full of strangers. At least you had managed to secure a private room, you thought.

--

- "And here we are, finally, at the most beautiful part of the refuge — the lake!" - Wanda said excitedly, taking your hand and leading you closer to the shore. - "The sunset view from here is just breathtaking… We’ll have plenty of activities with the kids around this area. I’m sure you’re going to love it."

You were absorbed in the view when you suddenly realized — she was still holding your hand. A warmth spread through your body, catching you off guard. You weren’t used to physical contact, especially not with people you had just met. And yet, when Wanda gently squeezed your hand to get your attention, pointing toward a flock of birds soaring on the other side of the lake, you felt something… different.

Your palm began to sweat from nervousness. In an attempt to check if she had noticed, you turned to look at her — only to find her gaze locked onto yours. It was as if she was trying to read your mind. Strangely, it was both unsettling and comforting at the same time. She radiated kindness, an almost motherly aura. Yet deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had the power to destroy you if she chose to.

A wave of anxiety started creeping in, and to break the tension, your eyes mistakenly drifted to her lips. That only made things worse. A rush of heat spread across your skin, and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn. Acting purely on instinct, desperate to avoid an impending disaster, you abruptly pulled your hand away and turned to the side, pointing at some nearby trees.

- "This place is so green… so many trees, so many flowers. It’s really beautiful, Wanda," - you said quickly, starting to walk toward what you had just pointed at. - "Are those… fruits hanging from the branches?"

Wanda followed your awkward retreat, staying close. Too close.

Your face was burning, and you cursed yourself internally. Why do I always react like this around women? It was so embarrassing. This was exactly why you could never successfully start a relationship. It was ridiculous — being a lesbian but completely incapable of holding a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

Before you could spiral deeper into your self-inflicted humiliation, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts.

- "Yes! Most of these trees are fruit-bearing. We have peach, orange, pear, plum… and my personal favourite—apples."

Coincidentally, the tree closest to you had a few ripe apples hanging from its branches. You stopped walking, determined to keep your eyes on the fruit rather than on Wanda.

Your plan failed miserably.

Before you notice it, she was standing right in front of you — too close again. Close enough that you could catch the faint yet intoxicating scent of her perfume.

Your gaze remained fixed on the apples above, but your real struggle was maintaining steady breathing. And, of course, you failed at that too.

- "Are you okay, Y/N?" - Wanda asked with a concerned expression, taking a small step closer. - "Your face looks a little flushed, and—"

- "I-I’m fine, Wanda," - you interrupted, quickly stepping back. - "It’s just… hot, I mean, because of the sun." - You fought to keep your voice steady, but it was a losing battle.

- "Oh, darling," - she said with a pity tone. - "Maybe you didn’t put on enough sunscreen. Your face is looking a little red."

Before you could react, she reached up and gently brushed her fingers against your cheek.

You froze.

Your thoughts raced so fast that they made no sense at all. A simple touch. A meaningless gesture. Why did it make you shiver? Why are you like this?

Just as you were about to combust from sheer overthinking, an apple from the tree behind you fell to the ground with a soft thud.

You let out a startled breath — partly from the sudden noise, mostly from relief.

The shift in focus was instant. Wanda let go of your face and looked down.

- "Oh, we’ve been blessed, Y/N! Look at what we have here," - she said, crouching down to pick up the apple, rubbing it against the fabric of her blouse. Then, she held it up to your lips.

- "Here, sweetheart. Take a bite."

Her eyes flickered from yours to your lips.

You didn’t move. You just… stared at her.

- "Y/N," she repeated, this time in a firmer tone. - "I said, take a bite."

A tremor coursed through your spine. There was something about the way she spoke — the quiet dominance in her voice. Instinctively, you followed, taking a small bite.

- "Well done, dear. That was so easy," - she said with a sly smile.

- "Huh? Easy?" - you repeated, swallowing the piece of fruit.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing it softly as if wiping away a nonexistent trace of apple. - There was nothing there. Right? - Before you could even think to protest, she silenced you with a quiet "Shhh."

She took a bite from the same apple.

- "Mmm… absolutely delicious. Almost as sweet as you are," she murmured with a smirk, then winked at you.

Your brain shuts down.

- "Anyway, it’s getting late, and we still have things to do. Let’s go, dear," - she said, taking your hand — again. - "I have some important work for your hands."

- "W-What??" - you blurted out in disbelief.

These double meanings — was she doing this on purpose, or was your pathetic interpretation playing tricks on you?

Wanda didn’t respond. She merely pulled you along, guiding you toward the buildings without a word of explanation.

----

It was obvious that you would use your hands to make welcome signs — what else would you even use them for? — As you cut and painted the papers, you found yourself caught in an internal debate. There was no reason for you to have ambiguous thoughts about Wanda. You reassured yourself that she was simply being kind, making sure you felt comfortable around here. She was polite and respectful, and it was evident in everything she did.

As you both worked on the signs, she struck up a light conversation — never prying, never overstepping, but also not allowing an awkward silence to settle between you. When you casually mentioned that you didn’t have much knowledge of religion because it had never been a significant part of your life, she simply smiled warmly, respecting your choices.

She took the opportunity to talk about the upcoming services. For the children, there would be interactive lessons designed to introduce them to biblical teachings. For the adults, there would be mass at night, just like in Westview. Before you could even comment on it, Wanda reassured you that you were under no obligation to attend it but were always welcome to share in the Lord’s grace.

What once felt unattainable was now unfolding—you were speaking to her with ease, without anxious stuttering or overthinking every word. Wanda was an incredible woman, captivating in every way, but above all, she was deeply devoted to her faith. She was present at every service, every activity — the very definition of a right woman.

The signs were finally done, and without wanting to brag, you felt quite proud of your artistic skills. What you weren’t so proud of, however, was the mess you had made in the process. Clumsy as ever, your hands and arms were stained with paint. Wanda noticed your chaotic state and grabbed a damp cloth to help you clean up. Unexpected yet expected. The more time you spent with her, the more you noticed her nurturing aura. It was oddly comforting.

She took your arm and gently wiped the fabric against your skin.

- “You made quite the mess here, huh, Y/N?” - she teased, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. You felt your face heat up, both from embarrassment and from the way her fingers moved over your skin.

- “I’m proud of your work, though,” she continued, her voice warm. - “They’re so colourful, so full of life. In the end, the mess was worth it, wasn’t it?”

You were almost certain she said that just to make you feel better, but either way, you couldn’t stop the small smile that formed at the thought of her being proud of you.

Wanda continued wiping away the last traces of paint. Her touch was soft and delicate, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the moment. The silence between you carried a strange paradox — both exhilarating and calming at the same time. To keep your mind from spiralling into dangerous territory, you let your curiosity take over. After all, you did want to know more about the woman in front of you. So with the smallest bit of confidence you could muster, you crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

- “So, Wanda…” - You hesitated. - “You said you live in Westview. Are you married? Do you have children?”

The hand that had once been so gentle against your skin suddenly tightened around your wrist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The shift in her demeanour was instant, her features tensed and her breathing grew heavier. Regret flooded your chest, and you wished you could take the question back.

Seconds passed, though they felt like hours. Her grip didn’t loosen. You tried to pull your arm away, your voice barely above a whisper.

- “Wanda? I—I’m sorry if that was too personal. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

It was as if the more you tried to retreat, the harder she held on.

Then, finally, she spoke. - “Oh no, there’s no need to apologize.” - She let go of your wrist at last, and yet, you still felt the pressure of her fingers lingering on your skin.

- “Your question wasn’t inappropriate,” - she said, though something about the way she avoided your gaze made you doubt her words. - “It just caught me off guard.”

You unconsciously rubbed the spot where she had held you. The moment had been tense, and though you wanted to move on, you felt compelled to apologize again. Wanda let out a noticeable sigh. Wrong move. Before you could process what was happening, she took your chin between her fingers and tilted your head to the side.

- “I think there’s a little paint left on your neck,” - she murmured.

Before you could react, she wiped her bare fingers against your skin. - “Almost clean, darling,” - she continued. - “The paint dried, so it’s a little harder to get off.”

Her nails began to lightly scrape against your neck — not painfully, but enough to make your breath hitch. Your body froze again, your thoughts scattering in every direction, yet none of it seemed to add up. Such a small gesture, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. It was meaningless— just a touch, just a fleeting moment — so why did it feel like something more?

- "All done,” - she finally said, pulling back slightly. - “Oh dear, I might have been a little too rough. Your skin turned a bit red where I cleaned.”

Her voice was laced with mock sympathy, her eyes watching you intently before she leaned in. And then, without hesitation, she pressed a soft kiss against the spot on your neck.

- “Don’t worry, it’ll go back to normal soon,” - she murmured against your skin. She pulled away, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She didn’t wait for a reaction — not that you could have formed one if you tried. She simply changed the subject, as if nothing had just happened.

- “Well, that’s it. You’re officially free from your tasks with me.” - She winked and turned toward the door. - “I’d love to see you at mass tonight, Y/N. If you feel comfortable, of course.” - And then, just like that, she was gone.

----

After finishing your afternoon activities, you took one last walk through the garden, hoping the fresh air might help clear your thoughts. You had made a promise to yourself —all the interpretations you had about Wanda’s actions were just figments of your imagination. She was simply being kind, and that was it. You were the one at fault, the one creating feelings and fictionalizing reality. Plus, you even convinced yourself that she probably had a beautiful family but just didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.

Taking advantage of your free time, you returned to your room to organize your things and rest for a while. You even felt a spark of excitement as you remembered the gift Yelena had given you earlier. Tearing the wrapping open impatiently, you tried to guess what it could be. But the moment you saw what was inside, you immediately understood why Yelena had been so thrilled to give it to you. It was none other than a strap-on.

You stared at it in disbelief. Your friend was absolutely insane. Okay, sure — it was a good gift, you couldn’t deny that. Technically, you had no right to complain, considering that, during a drunken conversation some time ago, you had confessed your curiosity about trying one. But, honestly, first: it would be ideal to actually have someone to use it with. And second: of all the moments she could have chosen to give it to you, she had to pick now — while you were in a religious setting.

Anyway, it would be hypocritical to blame her, though, considering you had also brought something inappropriate into this environment. Still, you made a note: you weren’t going to let her get away with this when you saw her again. For now, to avoid any potential disaster, you hid your new toy deep in your suitcase, tucking it beneath layers of clothes.

----

You stood in front of the chapel door, hesitating, unsure whether to step inside.

- "Good evening. Are you not going in?"- A male voice sounded behind you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, startled.

- "I'm Peter… and you must be…?"

You extended your hand in greeting. - "Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N," you replied. - "Yeah, I was just about to go in, it's just—"

He cut you off before you could finish. - "You're the new volunteer! Nice to meet you." - He grinned. - "Don’t worry, the first time can be overwhelming. Come on, I’ll show you around."

Saying this might sound cliché, especially given the circumstances, but thank God Peter showed up to keep you company. Only now did it truly dawn on you that you were in a religious environment. The air inside the chapel felt heavy on your shoulders. Some people were wearing traditional garments, though - obviously, you had no idea what they were called. Others were arranging objects at the altar and most of them clutched bibles in their hands.

The service didn’t take long to begin, but it was enough time for you to get to know Peter a little. His situation was surprisingly similar to yours, he was a university student who was here simply to support the cause of the children. He wasn’t part of any religious community and had started participating in these volunteer activities because one of the partners at his internship happened to be the founder of an adoption center in his city.

Learning that there were others here who weren’t directly connected to the church was a relief. The pressure in your chest, that lingering sense of being out of place, softened just a bit. Besides, you were now intrigued to meet this partner Peter spoke so highly of — Mr. Stark.

--

Your eyelids drooped with boredom. The people around you were full of energy, reciting prayer after prayer, but to you, they were just meaningless words drifting through the air. Without thinking, your eyes kept wandering over the crowd, searching for Wanda. You were fairly sure she was seated near the front, beside the woman named Agatha. They seemed so immersed as if they truly belonged.

All of a sudden, the sound of drums and guitars filled the chapel. A group of people at the front stood and walked up to the altar. Among them was Wanda. Her gaze landed on you immediately. It was hypnotic. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t look away.

- "This is always the best part. The lyrics aren’t great, but at least the melody makes up for it!" - Peter whispered, nudging you with his elbow. - "At least it brings some energy to the room… and wakes up anyone who's about to fall asleep." - He chuckled.

You nudged him back, holding in a laugh to avoid drawing attention.

But Wanda noticed.

And when you looked at her again, her expression had changed. If she had been happy to see you here before, that feeling had now been replaced by something else entirely. Her eyes burned as they locked onto you — and your new colleague.

As soon as the choir finished their last song, Peter turned to you with a small smile. - "I have to go now. I promised to help with the kitchen duties for dinner," - he said, getting up.

You felt a pang of disappointment, both at losing his company and at the realization that the mass still wasn’t over. Turning your attention back to the altar, you watched as the singers from earlier now exchanged greetings with the priest. And there she was — Wanda.

From a distance, she looked so harmless. She conversed effortlessly with those around her, and everyone appeared to admire her. In a way, it felt odd watching her engage with others. She didn’t seem to be giving them those scrutinizing glances, nor did she speak in cryptic phrases designed to mislead or perhaps she behaved the same as always, and everything weighing on your mind was meaningless after all.

It didn’t take long for people to return to their seats. Some, like Peter, left the chapel, but Wanda— She didn’t go back to her place. She was walking toward you.

- "Is this seat taken?" - she asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting beside you. - "I'm really happy you came tonight. I hope it’s not too overwhelming for you, darling," she added, placing her Bible on her lap and opening it.

- "It’s been a good experience," - you admitted truthfully. - "Besides, I met Peter. He seems like a good person." - You weren’t sure why you brought him up, maybe just to fill the silence.

- "Oh, Peter. Yes, I know him," - she said, her tone suddenly firmer, colder.

Looking down, you noticed her fingers fidgeting with the rosary in her hand, gripping the cross a little too tightly. Her mood had shifted — again.

- "Uh… is the mass almost over?" - you asked, hoping to lighten the air.

- "Almost, dear. Almost," - she murmured, just as the priest began speaking again. She turned her head forward, focusing on the next prayer, but not before flashing you a small smile. You were exhausted, silently pleading for everything to end soon.

As the minutes ticked by, Wanda’s presence beside you awakened something unfamiliar. It was as if your body remained in a perpetual state of anticipation, craving something beyond reach, even though you knew your longing was forbidden. Dangerous. And then, almost as if she had read your restless mind — you felt it.

Her hand lay still on your exposed thigh, the cool beads of her rosary caught beneath her palm, pressing into your skin each time her grip tensed with every echoed “amen.” You silently cursed yourself for choosing shorts over jeans.

Unlike you, Wanda appeared entirely unbothered by the situation. She echoed the priest’s words with ease, her voice steady and sure. And with each proclamation of praise, her grip tightened just a little more, pressing the cold metal of the cross even deeper into your skin.

Then, at last, the priest spoke his final words.

Wanda turned to you again. - "I hope you have a blessed night…" - she whispered, leaning in. - "And one full of grace, Y/N. Good night." - her lips grazed your cheek in a whisper-soft kiss.

And just like that, she was gone.

You remained still, frozen in place, watching as she walked toward the others as if nothing had happened. What… was that? Was your mind playing tricks on you again? Regardless of what conclusion you might come to, one thing was undeniable — That kiss was way too close to your lips.

----

You woke up to the sound of the chapel bell ringing. You were exhausted. Pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes, you let out a low groan of frustration. Your treacherous mind dragged memories from the previous night to the surface — the chapel, a new friendship, the endless prayers, and her — Wanda. No matter how much you fought it, the memories kept replaying in your mind—her gaze fixed on you, her presence beside you on the bench, her hand on your thigh, the ghost of her lips on your cheek. Stop. You had to stop thinking about it. As if stealing your sleep wasn’t enough, you refused to let her linger in your thoughts all day too.

As you wished, things were going well. At breakfast, you ran into Peter, who instantly invited you to sit with him. He talked a lot, cracking jokes and sharing stories from college — a great distraction for your restless mind. After indulging a little too much in the delicious food, you both headed to the courtyard, where more volunteers and children began arriving. You finally met the famous Mr. Stark, whom Peter had raved about, and his lovely wife. The conversation was engaging, but duty soon called. Monica gave you instructions to take the children to the dining hall while others helped store their luggage in the respective accommodations. Everything was well-organized, and the people were incredibly helpful. While watching over the children, you even managed a quick chat with Scott, who was eager for you to meet his daughter.

The day was going wonderfully, and, without intending to be judgmental, there were moments when you almost forgot the place was tied to a religious organization. You met people from nearby towns who volunteered regularly for this cause, regardless of their beliefs. It was all about the children, and they were absolutely delightful. Laughter echoed through the air, some raced across the lawn, others tended to the garden, played ball, or explored the small farm area, where they could interact with animals and learn about them. The most rewarding part was witnessing their beaming smiles, their excitement unmistakable as they eagerly chose which activity group to join.

Speaking of which, you were assigned to oversee the lake activities. Initially, you were excited about your role, but upon realizing that "lake activities" meant swimming with the children, your enthusiasm waned. You hadn’t packed a swimsuit, after all, who would have guessed there’d be water activities at a church retreat? Never. Regardless, you worked with what you had, slipping into workout shorts, a sports top, and a lightweight shirt over it. That would do.

--

The evening bell rang, signalling the start of the night’s activities. You began calling the children out of the water and sending them over to Cassie, Scott’s daughter, who was handing out towels.

You were happy but utterly drained. You had to give your all to help your team win the water polo match against Peter, but it was worth every effort. Of course, you took the time to lift the losing team’s spirits, assuring the kids that they had played exceptionally well and placing the blame for the loss entirely on Peter. Maybe that was a little harsh because your convincing words successfully triggered an all-out water fight against him.

Well, karma always finds a way back. After all the children had left the lake and headed to the dorms, Cassie announced that only one towel remained. You and Peter locked eyes in a wordless challenge before sprinting for it. Unfortunately, he was faster, laughing mischievously as he grabbed the towel. - “Better luck next time, Y/N! I win. See you later!”

Great. A short walk to your room while soaking wet wasn’t the end of the world. Everything was fine, you told yourself — until you heard Agatha’s voice.

- "My God, Y/N! Where are you going, dripping wet like that?!" - she exclaimed, approaching you, her loud voice drawing attention including Wanda’s.

- "I’m just heading to my room to grab a towel," you murmured, not wanting to attract more stares. - "Don’t worry, just a few more steps and I’m there," you tried to sound cheerful.

- "Oh, poor little thing," - Agatha teased, giving you a mock pitying look before turning away. - "Wanda! Bring a towel, your little angel here looks like a lost, wet puppy."

A cold breeze hit your damp skin, making the temperature difference even more unbearable. Your body tensed as you saw Wanda approaching.

- "Y/N! Why are you walking around soaked like this? You’ll catch a cold, for God’s sake. Where’s your towel?" - she asked, concern evident in her voice. - "Here, let me help you," - she added, draping a towel over your shoulders, pulling you closer —too close.

- "It’s fine, Wanda. There was only one towel left, and Peter got to it first," - you admitted softly, feeling guilty for secretly enjoying her attention.

- "Peter, huh? I’ve noticed you two are getting along, maybe a little too well," - she remarked, her hand tightening on your arm over the towel. Her grip was firm. - "I hope you had fun." - You couldn’t quite decipher if her tone was sincere or laced with something else.

Your mind replayed moments from earlier. You had done your best to keep thoughts of Wanda at bay, and, for the most part, you had succeeded. The distractions of games and the children’s company helped lighten things, as long as you didn’t glance in her direction. Every time your gaze drifted toward the field where the children played, Wanda was there, watching you. At first, you brushed it off as a mere coincidence, but soon, it became unnerving. Again and again, you caught her observing you as if carefully tracking your every move.

You snapped back to the present when Wanda pulled the towel from your shoulders. You looked at her, confused.

- "Take off your shirt." - It was more of a command than a suggestion. You stared at her, surprised at her boldness.

- "I’m not saying it twice, Y/N. Your shirt is drenched. Take it off." - You stood firm, refusing to comply so easily. Who did she think she was, ordering you around? Sure, she was right, but still, you can make your own choices.

- "I’m warning you. Don’t test me," she said in a sharp tone, raising an eyebrow and stepping closer. - "Don’t worry, darling. No one will see." Your eyes locked, and in an instant, whatever determination you had shattered. She had that effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Hesitantly, you peeled off your damp shirt, shivering as the cold air met your skin and the fabric of your sports top. Wanda gave you a satisfied smile, wrapping the towel back around you.

- "Good girl. I’m proud that you listened to me," - she murmured, adjusting the fabric on your shoulders. - "It’s okay, sweetheart." - Her voice softened as she leaned in, her hands caressing your back over the towel, sliding lower. - "It’s okay to want to act like a brat sometimes…" - Her face was dangerously close to yours, her hands now resting on your waist. - "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know your place." - She whispered the last words against your ear.

Taking the wet shirt from your hands, she gave you one last knowing smile before turning and walking back toward the others.

----

Your plan to stop thinking about Wanda had completely failed. The scene from earlier kept replaying in your head. Nothing made sense. Why does she act so harmless, yet suddenly she feels like a predator ready to devour me? The question tormented your mind. Well, not that it would be a bad thing for her to devour you, you thought. "STOP!" The thought was so loud in your head that you accidentally muttered it out loud. You needed to do something.

The first solution that came to mind wasn’t the best. In fact, it was the worst. But you were tired and maybe, just maybe, desperate. Whether you were ready to admit it or not, the truth was that your body craved her. The way she looked at you, her touch, her words — everything. She was driving you insane, both mentally and physically. You needed relief, and you convinced yourself this was the perfect moment. After all, you had come prepared for this.

You sat up in bed, determined. This was the right time, everyone was probably asleep by now. After skipping the evening mass and only stopping by the dining hall to grab a sandwich to go. You had been avoiding any contact.

Rummaging through your suitcase for your toy, your body burned with anticipation, your thoughts consumed by Wanda. To your surprise, the midnight bell rang, and you jumped in fright. The cool night breeze rustled the curtain by the open window, bringing a sudden clarity to your mind. "God, I mean, literally God. What am I doing? This is madness!" Guilt crept up your spine. Letting out a long sigh, you made a new decision — you needed a cold shower, now.

--

The freezing water was undoubtedly the best choice. As it cascaded down your shoulders, you felt your mind finally regaining balance. You were relaxed, at peace, when suddenly, a noise outside your stall broke the silence. A chill crept down your body. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was nothing. Just to be sure, you murmured hesitantly, "Hello? Is someone there?" of course, no response. There couldn’t possibly be anyone here at this hour.

Finishing your long, calming shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stepped out, heading toward the bench where you had left your change of clothes. Everything was perfectly normal until you realized your underwear was missing. You shook out the rest of your clothing, but nothing. You could have sworn you brought it with you. — Had it fallen somewhere on the way? Or had you simply forgotten to grab it? — There weren’t many options left, you dried off and put on what you had. It was just a quick walk to your room. No one would see.

--

- "Y/N! You’re still awake!" - a familiar voice called out, approaching in the hallway.

No way, you thought. Your hand was already on the doorknob, about to open your room when Wanda appeared.

- "Oh, hi, Wanda. Yeah, I just… went to take a shower," - you responded awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and instead looking at the object in her hand.

- "Mmm, lucky me, then! I was heading to my room and figured I’d drop off your shirt on the way." - She extended the clothes toward you.

- "Oh, right. Thank you. You didn’t have to wash it," - you said, suddenly remembering the forgotten shirt. Honestly, at that moment, all your focus was on one thing — you were only wearing a thin pair of pyjama shorts, no underwear.

- "No problem, darling." - She offered a warm smile before tilting her head slightly. - "Are you okay? I didn’t see you at mass and dinner tonight. I missed you." - Her hand reached out, gently stroking your arm with a concerned expression.

The warmth of her touch instantly undid all the effects of your cold shower. Your body heated up fast. You tried to maintain a natural posture, but feeling so exposed beneath your flimsy shorts was not helping. You kept your response brief, gripping the doorknob tighter. You needed to get inside, for your safety. - "I’m fine, Wanda. Just tired from today’s activities."

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Placing her hand over yours, she stopped you from opening the door. - "Is that all? Are you having trouble sleeping, dear?" - She squeezed your hand gently.- "How about we say one last prayer together, hm? It will help you rest." - Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door open.

You had no choice but to nod and step inside, your pulse racing. Wanda followed, closing the door behind her. - "You know," she mused, her voice calm yet laced with something unreadable, - "I have this essential oil that works wonders for sleep. I could use it on you."

This had to be a curse. No word came from your mouth and you were afraid to face her.

Then the silence of the room was broken by her single command. - "Kneel." - Her voice was firm as she stepped closer to you by the bed.

You finally stared at her, incredulous. Your body tensed, yet you could feel a damp heat forming between your legs. She had power over you, and she knew it.

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone.

A thousand scenarios raced through your mind, all the possibilities of what might happen—but none were what she meant.

- "Didn’t you agree to pray with me before going to sleep?" - she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Oh—of course! Pray, yes, yes, let’s do that." - You responded, your tone far too enthusiastic for the occasion, but relieved nonetheless.

Of course, kneeling was for prayer. You were so stupid. Immediately after your reply, you dropped to your knees, resting against the edge of your bed. The movement caused friction between your legs, heightening your sensitivity. This whole situation was making you feel strangely aroused and simultaneously desperate at the thought of what Wanda might do if she discovered you had been without underwear this entire time.

Before kneeling beside you, she cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at her. - "You’re a good girl, Y/N. Let’s pray to receive His blessing."

Those were the longest, most torturous minutes of your life. You fought against your consciousness, struggling to stay focused, but every little thing distracted you — Wanda’s arm brushing against yours, the rasp in her voice as she pronounced each word, the way she inhaled between phrases. — You felt guilty for desiring her this way, especially at this exact moment.

Shame. Guilt.

Your soaked folds throbbed with ache, your knees pressed against the cold floor — you were paying for your sins, and the devil knelt beside you.

- "Amen." - It was the last word you spoke before she ran a gentle hand down your back and stood up. - "That was wonderful, wasn’t it? I can feel God’s presence here." - She smiled, extending her hand to help you up. - "Alright, now it’s time to rest. Lie down, and I’ll apply the essential oil on you." - She turned, slipping a hand into her bag to retrieve the small bottle.

Honestly, you wanted to plead for her touch — to put an end to this unbearable torment — but at the same time, you felt like the most unworthy soul alive. She was doing all of this out of care and concern… right?

You lay down as she instructed. She poured a bit of oil onto her fingers and rubbed it slowly onto your wrists. - "This will help you sleep tonight, I promise, darling." - Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. - "One last spot, and we’re done." - She released your wrists, giving you no time to protest before lifting the hem of your shirt, and slipping her hand underneath. Her fingers trailed just above your chest, massaging slowly. The motion caused the delicate fabric of your shirt to brush against your hardened nipples — she must have noticed. Just a few centimetres more, and she would be cupping your breast.

You couldn’t contain it, pressing your legs together, seeking any friction where you craved it most, a quiet moan escaped your lips.

- "You’re so good for me. My good girl." - Her eyes locked onto yours as she smiled. - We’re finished."

- "Goodnight, Y/N. I hope you have sweet dreams." - She stood up and left, leaving you there, needy and desperate. And you could swear that just before turning away, her gaze lingered on the damp spot forming at the center of your pajama shorts.

----

You slept peacefully, like an angel, and for that, you couldn’t hold it against Wanda. She had been right. However, that was the only credit she deserved. Last night had been a whirlwind of emotions and desires, forbidden ones. No matter how much your body craved her or how, in fleeting moments, you believed she might feel something for you too, none of it mattered. It was wrong.

Perhaps God had heard your prayers because your day went wonderfully well. In the morning, you had breakfast with Peter and Cassie. In the afternoon, you were in charge of the arts and painting activity group. Time flew by in the company of the children — so much fun and laughter. You even had the chance to teach them about recycling and how discarded materials could be turned into toys.

Everything was going perfectly — too perfectly. Until Monica approached you. Simply put, one of the church volunteers, an older woman named Sharon, requested a private room, claiming that her roommate’s snoring was unbearably loud. At first, you thought Monica was asking you to check the accommodation list for an available room, but then it clicked. She was actually asking you to give up your room for Sharon. Well, fine. It was a bit inconvenient, but you didn’t mind too much. After all, no one deserved to share a room with a noisy sleeper. However, the proposed solution for your lodging took you entirely by surprise — Monica suggested that you move into Wanda’s room.

You had no excuse to refuse. What could you possibly say? "I’m having forbidden thoughts about a religious woman and I think I’m losing my mind?" So, you had to accept it.

--

You didn’t have much to carry to your new dorm, or rather, Wanda’s dorm. Even so, Agatha offered to help with your belongings since Wanda had given her the key to unlock the room for you, as she was tied up with something else. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Wanda wasn’t here.

You stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settling in your stomach. It was nearly the same size as a single dorm, the only difference being two twin beds separated by a nightstand. You couldn’t help but picture Wanda sleeping there and wondered why she had a shared room all to herself.

Agatha walked in right after you, lingering by the door for a moment before heading straight to the window above the beds, pushing it open to let in some fresh air.

- “Feel free to put your things in the wardrobe, Wanda won’t mind,” - she said with confidence, settling onto Wanda’s bed.

You nodded in agreement, carefully placing your suitcase on a table near the wardrobe, mindful not to knock over the items already there. Then, you quietly began unpacking your few pieces of clothing.

Agatha decided to break the silence and asked - “Y/N, have you ever sinned?”

A strange question, you thought, but maybe not so much, considering the place you were in. You took a few extra seconds to think of a response. - “Mm… I guess everyone has sinned at some point, right?"

She let out a laugh. - “Smart answer, darling. But have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

You froze in front of the wardrobe. Did I hear that right? You wondered to yourself. A pang of guilt tightened in your throat as if she knew some secret you’d been hiding. - “Mm… I don’t think I understand. You mean in church?” - you lied, feigning innocence as you resumed putting your things away.

You could feel her gaze on you, the heat creeping up your neck as she studied you. - “Never mind. You’re still too pure, aren’t you?” - she chuckled again, but this time, there was something more suggestive in her tone. - “Anyway, it’s good that you’ll be keeping Wanda company here. She’s been down all day.”

Agatha was right. Your afternoon had been busy with group activities, but in the few moments you glanced around and caught sight of Wanda, she seemed… indifferent. For a moment, you told yourself she was just overwhelmed with tasks or maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as interesting to her anymore, not enough for her to seek you out in a crowd. Whatever the case, something had changed.

- “Really? What happened to her?” - you asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

- “Yeah, she won’t be able to attend the kids’ farewell or the final mass tomorrow since she has to leave in the morning,” - Agatha replied, idly twirling a strand of her hair before continuing. - “That’s a shame. She’s always loved the last day, but unfortunately, she has to go back to Westview to take care of her boys.”

- “Boys??” - you asked, almost cutting her off as she finished speaking. There was no doubt she noticed how quickly the topic had caught your attention.

- “Yeah, her boys. They’re adorable. Too bad I can’t say the same about their father,” - she replied as if it were common knowledge. Common to everyone except you.

You put away the last of your clothes and stared at the back of the wardrobe. Agatha had just dropped a fact you weren’t prepared to hear. You felt pathetic for ever indulging in your own fantasies, a slow-burning frustration creeping in, frustration at yourself. Wanda wasn’t to blame for any of this. It was all in your desperate mind. “Just one more night here, then you’ll be gone. You can do this. You’re here for the kids.” You kept repeating it in your head as you turned to zip up your suitcase, eager to leave the room. But in your emotional haze, you pulled the zipper too forcefully, causing the suitcase to shift and knock over a few nearby objects, sending them tumbling to the floor.

- “Shit,” - you muttered, frustration slipping out before you could stop it.

- “Oh God, everything okay over there?” - Agatha asked, craning her neck to check.

- “Yeah, yeah, sorry for the language. I’m just a bit clumsy,” - you said, quickly crouching down to pick up what had fallen.

The moment you saw what had fallen, you silently prayed not to be cursed. Lying there was a red hardcover notebook and Wanda’s Bible. You carefully picked them up and placed them back on the table. But, as luck would have it, one of the Bible’s pages had crumpled from the fall. Hoping to smooth it out, you opened it where a bookmark had been placed.

There were countless handwritten notes and highlighted passages. The sight warmed your heart. Wanda was truly a devoted woman. But then, one message stood out.

It was written in red ink:

“Father, forgive me;

For I have sinned;

This love isn’t holy;

But I’m too far in.”

Your eyes widened. You were about to read it again when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

- “Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay? Have you finished unpacking?” - Agatha asked.

You quickly shut the Bible, placing the small notebook on top of it. In one swift motion, you grabbed your suitcase from the table and turned to face her.

- “I’m fine, and everything’s set. We can go.” - You forced your best fake smile before striding toward the door, eager to leave.