#I think some of my points still stand though

[moonsaver]

Okay, honestly, I'm still reeling from the entire penacony quest, but here's my take on Sunday so far;

He's manipulative, obviously.

But like.. the type that's kind of hesitant from time to time because he's still sincere to a degree. At least, when it comes to his loved ones.

So, I guess that hesitance decreases a lot if you're just some nobody. Even then, Sunday does want the better for everyone, too. It just means that others may bear the brunt of it for the most part before being able to get ahold of it.

Also, at the very least, even if some people suffer, at the end Sunday believes they will reach where they want to, after. In that case, however, Sunday suffers far more than them, without actually ever reaching his own destination or idea of paradise.

However, this view is a bit distorted. Sunday believes to be "sacrificing" himself, shouldering loneliness and burdens in order to uphold everyone else's "paradise". But to the others, he's simply a tyrant overruling everyone's will with his own idea of Order.

Sunday deeply cares. He cares too much. That's kind of the problem.

A bit of self-destructing tendencies when pushed too far, I guess.

Lets ignore logic established by the quest for a second (because i literally am still reeling from it)

Imagine Sunday first discovers this possibility. He's terrified of it, but at the same time, he truly thinks this is humanity's salvage – for everyone who has deeply suffered. He thinks of you.

You who have had your fair share of pain, who confides in him late at night in the quiet of your privacy, hushed voices like silenced by a thick blanket through the wall.

You deserve to live a sweeter life. He thinks. No. You deserve more. He knows.

The first person he ever wants to step into this paradise – you.

Now, although Sunday was defeated in the end, we all know that unfortunately, our ragtag team had to wake up again because defeating him first was a dream. This means at some point, Sunday did succeed.

And after everyone wakes, you don't. You continue sleeping soundly. So does Sunday.

The rest of the world can return to their miserable, bitter lives outside of this dream; but Sunday will be damned if he's letting you go. Perhaps.. it's not a selfless wish, anymore. Perhaps at this point, Sunday desperately, selfishly, grips onto you with the latches of a sweet, deep dream. One where he was fatally destined to never reach, only to control from the waking world. Now that everyone else has woken, he wants to return to the dream. He wants to return to you, who he has so lovingly entrenched deep into it.

Also, Robin. Im in SO much pain... PLEASW..

Do you guys think.. even if Robin was vehemently resistant against Sunday's ideas..

Even though Sunday knew she wouldn't stand for it..

Do you guys think.. he wanted her to also join him at the end and enjoy the "Paradise" he created aswell?

Do you think he would have wanted Robin to stop worrying about everything, to take rest, to finally come home, and sing to her heart's content inside the dream? The dream where they set the bird free? The dream where Sunday still has a sweet tooth? The dream where she never has to wear elaborate neck-pieces? The dream where neither of them was hurt? Where neither of them left each other?

Oh...ogh. . My heart.

Sunday would be such a scary lover, too.

I mean even normally, I don't think a relationship with him would be that healthy

Particularly because it seems so healthy

If reader was in a relationship with normal sunday, I mean.. it's gonna at least appear healthy and normal, even to them. It's probably just Sunday having to constantly burden himself with all the dirty strings he has to pull, the quiet rush of water when he washes his hands before caressing the side of your face, the tight, closed smile he would give if you ever asked him what was wrong.. he can't let you know.

I think he'll take a yandere route in an established relationship if you do happen to find out what's been going on behind the scenes. He'll have to calm you down, and you promise you won't peep about it. The build up is almost invisible, because things seem to go back to the way they were. Before Sunday starts acting a bit.. restless. That would be when his yan! Tendencies would start kicking in, for a variety of reasons.

I feel like y'know, out of all the hsr cast, he's one of the characters who is genuinely very close to becoming a yandere canonically. Control freak? Check. Twisted ideals? Check. Unchecked power? Check. Hypnotization/manipulation? Check.

Also, the slight difference of his color pallete as opposed to Robin's.

His is much more washes out than Robin's. It's more "duller" but also more professional, and the gold of his halo is more colder than the warmer tone of Robin's halo. They both still have white/grey as a major color in their palletes, but Sunday's is accompanied by deep navy blues, or washed out blues. Robin's is very vibrant and purple. The only blue segment of her pallete is her hair, and it's remarkably more vibrant than Sunday's.

Also.. Sunday's whole ideas on "weak" and "strong"

Of course, it wasn't all correct, but that doesn't mean they didn't hold some semblance of sense.

Regardless, this playing with yan! Tendencies..... HOOOOO boy

So many thoughts. Sunday manipulating his partner is quite possibly the most common theme in them.

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა skin — chuuya nakahara

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. chuuya's acting different… but you brush it off and don't think anything of it.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, suggestive but sfw, f!reader, domestic life, established relationship, implied dubcon, open ending, horror/mystery elements, wc: 2.5k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. i'm a bit nervous to see how this will be received, so pls reblog or drop a comment if you enjoy <3

part of my summerween series !

the scent of freshly brewed coffee and your favorite breakfast food are the first things that you smell when you wake up. for a few moments, you think it’s a dream — when’s the last time chuuya cooked this early in the morning? you half expect to walk out there and wake up again later, finding that you’d never opened your eyes at all.

but when you roll out of bed, tug a robe over your shoulders, chuuya is there, a presence larger than life, almost, standing in front of the stove, and you are undeniably awake.

you wrinkle your eyebrows together, glancing at the plates scattered across the counter. in your two years of marriage, this is the first that you’ve seen such a display. chuuya isn’t a morning person, he never has been, and usually something quick is enough to settle his stomach for a while.

“chuuya?” you asked, sitting at the table, his back still turned to you. he’s fully dressed, hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, burning brighter from the sun filtering in through the window. “what are you doing?” 

your husband turns, smiling at you over his shoulder. as always, it takes your breath away. he is so handsome, sometimes, it makes you forget yourself. “can’t i cook for my beautiful wife?” he asks, sliding a cup of coffee to you on the tabletop. 

you smile, as his hands graze your temple, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you never cook breakfast. you don’t like it.”  besides, this is far too much for two people to enjoy.

he laughs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then the small, confused wrinkle between your eyes. it slips away as you sit up straighter, capture his lips with your own, tasting the coffee on his mouth.

“but you do,” chuuya says.

you’re honestly indifferent towards breakfast, but you let it slide, tucking your chin into your hand as you watch him work away. if he wants to do something nice, you’re not going to stop him. “weren’t you supposed to leave for a job this morning?” 

chuuya shrugs, “i’m reassigned, i guess the boss wanted to send akutagawa instead. i’ll be staying in the city for this one, so you won’t get the chance to miss me.” 

it makes sense now, why he had so generously made you breakfast. you stand, taking a longer sip of your coffee, before going to wrap your arms around his stomach, smell the hot food that wafts from behind him. “oh, so you had some time to kill?” you tease, running your hands across his abdomen. “and you decided to cook instead of doing… something else?” 

your fingers trace a pattern around the zipper of his jeans, which are steadily growing tighter. chuuya grabs your wrist, tugs your hands away with a pointed look. “yes,” he says, through his teeth. “and you’re making it difficult.” 

you lazily grin back, pressing one last kiss to his jawline before grabbing your coffee again, and standing beside him at the counter. 

chuuya cooks with a precision that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before, delicately measuring each ingredient, tapping them into the bowls and pans. usually, he goes by his own instincts, and while he is by no means a great cook, he pulls things together in a way that only he could do. now, though, he seems almost uncertain, like he’s silently praying that everything will turn out alright.

“chuuya?” you ask, watching him carefully. his face contorts strangely as he looks over at you, but then it clears up, and he smiles, looking just as warm as he did the moment you walked into the room. 

“yeah, baby?” 

you want to ask him if he’s feeling alright—but that would shatter the mood, wouldn’t it? the serene morning bliss that has settled between you, as it so rarely seems to anymore. and it’s a blessing, not to have to watch him walk out that door and put himself in danger, able to spend more time with you. 

shaking your head, you smile, and kiss him on the cheek softly. “never mind. i love you.” 

“love you too.” he says it back immediately, which is also a little unlike your husband. there is always a pause before, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to maintain this sort of affection, like it’ll be taken away if he dares to speak the truth. he cherishes the love he has for you in that tiny pause, before relinquishing it, shoulders only relaxing when he sees you standing there, safe and sound. 

but it’s been years since you’ve been together. you’re married, settled down — as settled as he can be as a mafia executive. perhaps he’s just relaxed into the fact that your love is eternal, and he's more confident in the notion that it won’t be taken away from him. 

the rest of the morning passes quickly, when you and chuuya find yourselves back into bed, mouths still tasting of coffee, the windows open just enough to clear out the smell of sweat between you, and the pans that have not fully been scrubbed. 

at some point, you feel asleep, and you wake back up, overheated from the sheets tucked closely to your naked body. the sunlight filtering in through the glass is worse than metal of a furnace. your hair sticks to your scalp, and you spend the next half hour in the shower, dreading the looming months of summer and the heat that comes with it.

although there’s plenty of things for you to do while chuuya’s gone, you don’t feel like doing much of anything. just one of those days, you reason, even if it’s hard to rationalize that, when chuuya’s out there risking his life, and you’re inside, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and the picking up books you can’t bring yourself to read.

it’s a blur of a day, between very slowly making your way through the pile of laundry you’d forgotten to fold, and cleaning the sheets that had been washed just a few days earlier. chuuya returns, and suddenly, your foul mood caves into something much more pleasant, that pit in your stomach dissipating. 

you still worry about him, constantly, even though you know he’s chuuya nakahara, and there are very few things on this earth that can challenge him. still, he’s your husband—you can’t help it.

chuuya kisses you as he returns, smiling into it, his fingers curling into the hair behind your ears. 

“i can make dinner tonight,” you say, even though you don’t really feel like it. but he sees right through it, just like you knew he would. you can’t hide much from him. 

“it’s okay. i’ll pick something up. know you haven’t been feeling up to it this week.” 

you smile and kiss the palm of his hand, the leather of his glove cool against your mouth. how nice it is to be so loved by him, to be seen, for even the simplest of signs. “okay. thanks.” 

he nods, leaves to retreat into the bedroom and change his dirtied shirt into a clean one. it’s then, that you notice he’s laid his coat across the back of one of your chairs — unusual, for him to wear it so far into the house. 

you furrow your brow and pick it up, planning on hanging it on the rack by the door. but you notice, then, that it’s an older one, different from the coat he normally wears. the designer is the same, but there’s a hole in the pocket, which tells you he didn’t care enough to have it fixed. 

an odd feeling twists itself inside you again. a bout of paranoia, likely. that’s all, isn’t it? you’re just having an off day, an off week, and you’re projecting that onto your husband, for no reason at all. 

a sigh escapes you, and you shake your head, simply hanging it back up on the coat rack, when you notice his hat isn’t there either. 

you frown, glancing back over your shoulder to the chair, the rest of the room. chuuya hadn’t been wearing it when he’d walked in, and you can’t remember seeing it on the rack before he left this morning. 

which was odd. chuuya never went anywhere without it.

you jump, a vibration pulling you out of your thoughts, your cell phone ringing, buzzing on the table right by the doorway. it’s chuuya’s name flashing across the screen, a photo of him bright under the glass.

“hello?”

“hey, baby.” 

you release a breath at the sound of chuuya’s voice. it instantly relaxes you, even though you, really, have no reason to be so alarmed.

your shoulders sink down, the tension draining from your body, and you smile instead, amused that he’s calling you from just one room over. the affectionate name twists your stomach up in butterflies and knots, and you roll your eyes. “hi, chuuya.” 

“you have time to talk right now?” 

“i suppose.” 

“you suppose,” chuuya replies, snorting. “and here i thought you’d be happier to hear from me. i was about to apologize for not calling you earlier and everything.” 

that’s a weird thing to say, you think. “chuuya, you know, you didn’t need to call. you could’ve just walked back in here.” 

there’s a pause on the other end, a muffled sound in the background, like he’s getting out of a car. “what do you mean?” 

“i mean you could’ve just walked back in here.”

he doesn’t seem to understand, and fakes a laugh. “very funny.” there’s a voice on the other end, and chuuya says something to the sound, before turning his attention back to you on the phone. your brow furrows, eyes drifting over to the door. “anyway, i only have a few minutes, but—”

 “chuuya,” you say, feeling a tiny rush of fear swallow you. something is wrong. there’s no one in your house besides you and chuuya, and he’s been in your bedroom for minutes. you turn back around, facing the front door. "where are you?” 

“huh? i’m in osaka, remember? i told you about the entire thing last night.” he sighs, something between irritation and amused fondness.  “we had a pretty long conversation about it.” 

“osaka?” you repeat. “but—i just saw you. just a few minutes ago. just this morning”

there’s silence on the other end of the line, as chuuya breathes, gathers his thoughts. you can tell, even within a second, that he’s either trying not to panic, or let his confusion give way to anger. “no, you didn’t. i left early this morning, you were still sleeping—”

“who are you talking to?” 

you freeze. it comes from chuuya, but the chuuya that’s behind you, not the one you’re talking to on the phone. there’s a pinched look on his face as you turn, pretending like nothing is wrong. a guarded expression that wasn’t there before. 

your mind goes blank as you stare at him, mouth growing dry. “i—”

“say dazai,” chuuya says through the static of the phone. you’re not sure how he heard the imposter at all, but it settles you, snapping you back into action.

“dazai?” you nearly spit.

it’s not often you chat with dazai, of all people, on the phone. you’re not particularly close. but it’s a good call by chuuya. dazai wouldn’t be keeping tabs on the port mafia member’s whereabouts, wouldn’t know that chuuya was out of town, and akutagawa was never reassigned. but he’s still dangerous. still someone that could be a threat to whoever is pretending to be your husband.

“dazai," you continue, recovering from your questioning response smoothly. "can i call you back later?”

chuuya speaks to you the other line, playing along. “i’m going to call someone to come over there. pretend like nothing’s wrong. everything will be okay.” 

you feel tears prick the back of your eyes — you don’t want chuuya to hang up, but if the fake chuuya finds out you know, it could be an even worse outcome. 

“okay. got it. i'll call you tomorrow then.” 

“i love you.”

you resist the urge to answer the sentiment, and hang up the phone. 

the fake chuuya stares back at you, as intently as you stare at him, neither of you blinking as you put your phone back into your pocket.

“what did dazai want?” he asks, standing straight, his back tense as you take a step forward. 

there are a lot of weapons hidden around this house—chuuya has more than a handful of enemies, and wants to be prepared in case they ever find where he lives. where you live. 

you’d thought it overkill. now, you’re grateful to have at least a fighting chance; if you can only get to the pistol that he keeps in the closet, at the end of the hallway. 

“he’s working on a case. thought i might have some intel. i told him i’d look over the details tomorrow.” 

“i see.” chuuya — not chuuya, you remind yourself, even though he’s wearing his face — nods. he watches you walk closer the closet door, eyes darting between the handle and your body. his eyes flash. 

“you know,” he says, crisply, stopping you in your tracks. “i thought the phone might cause some issues. should’ve blocked the number this morning. amateur mistake on my part.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean your husband called, didn’t he? the real one.” not chuuya smiles, but it’s ugly, almost as if it’s contorting, melting off his face. “you know he’s been gone all morning. it wasn’t him who made you breakfast, took you to bed after.” 

nausea fills your gut, and you look away, swallowing down the disgust that you feel. you can’t think about that. not now. 

“although, you wouldn’t have known by the way i touched you, would you? how i knew exactly what you enjoy. i have every one of chuuya’s memories now. i know all about him, all about you.” he takes a long stride. you’re both just a pace away from the door, from the gun. if he has any of chuuya’s strength, you’ll lose—you’re no match for that kind of power. 

you just need to hold him off, long enough for whoever chuuya sends over to help you. 

“and also,” the fake chuuya continues lazily, a laugh clipping at the end of his words. “i know about the gun you’re looking for.”

there’s a dark grin on his face that propels you into action. you lunge towards the closet door, throwing it open, and chuuya lets you. he laughs darkly, doesn’t make any attempt to stop you from fumbling around the inside of closet for a gun that he put there. it doesn’t take you long to figure out why.

the gun isn’t there.

thank you so much for reading! ❤︎ title and inspiration come from ep 1.06 of supernatural- tag list: @little-miss-chaoss @erebus-et-eigengrau @soleelia @k0z3me

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

[pb524830]

right where you left me

part: 7 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 2.6k c/w: language, sexual content (like pure filth, please be prepared) a/n: i understand we are all quite angry with me for that last chapter. listen. it'll all work out. i promise!

I sit on the wood floor of Crisler Center, stretching out my muscles, my teammates on the floor next to me. I lean forward, my legs splayed out on either side of me. I reach as far forward as I can, groaning as my tired muscles shift. We had a grueling practice yesterday, and decided to have a wine night in one of the dance girls’ apartments before our women’s game against UConn this evening.

Bad idea.

There’s a slight ache between my eyebrows, and my stomach is churning. Though, that may be the anxiety of having to see Paige again.

I ease up off the floor, checking the time on the clock on the far end of the gym. It’s almost time for the opposing team to come in for shoot around. I sigh, debating between staying and seeing her now, or seeing her before the game and having it potentially throw off my performance. 

She makes the decision for me, jogging in with the rest of the Huskies. My heart leaps to my throat when I see her. Her hair is braided into a ponytail - her hair has gotten longer. It swings down her back as she runs. Her shoulders are broad in the warm-up. I take in the shadow under her defined cheekbones and jawline, the slight furrow of her brow as she registers my teammates, eyes brightening as they search for me. Her lips part when they land on me and catch my gaze.

I offer her a small smile and a wave. She nearly trips over her own feet. I let a small laugh escape me. She looks over to her teammates before changing direction and jogging over to me.

I’m in a tank top and flare leggings, but the way Paige is looking at me, the way her eyes are drinking me in - you’d think I was wearing the most exquisite gown in the world. “Hi,” she breathes. 

The sound of her voice sends me reeling. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. “Hi, Paige,” I smile back softly, crossing my arms. 

She gestures to me. “You look- you look really good.”

My smile grows a bit. “Not great?” I tease.

She licks her lips, returning my grin. “Fucking incredible, how’s that?”

I roll my eyes, shoving her. My fingertips spark where they connect with her arm. “It’s all the conditioning.”

Paige shakes her head, eyes trained on my face. “No, it’s more than that. You look happy.” 

I tip my head to her team. “So do you.”

“I like seeing you like this,” she says quietly, taking a step closer.

My whole body aches to reach for her, to wrap my arms around her and hug her tight, to fall to my knees and scream and sob and cry and beg her to take me back. To tell her I was stupid, and fuck maturity and growth because it’s been eight fucking months and I still just want her. 

I don’t do any of that. “You, too,” I offer back. 

I’m grateful that my teammates call me away, and I turn my back to her stubbornly. Then, I hesitate.

When I turn back around, Paige is still standing there, staring at me, a wistful look on her face. I take two hurried steps to her, then balance a hand on her shoulder to push myself up to my tiptoes. I place a soft kiss on her cheek, and her hand immediately flies to my waist.

I nearly collapse into her touch, but I hold strong. When I pull away, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are tinged pink. I pat her arm. “Good luck today,” I whisper, then I jog back into my locker room. 

The game is something of a slaughter, and it feels for some reason like Paige is playing harder. At the end of it, she’s notched 29 points, 8 assists, 3 steals, and 3 blocks. She doesn’t turn the ball over once.

Paige stays back to take pictures with some fans, but I head back into the locker room to change. We hadn’t made any plans, though I’m sure both of us had marked this game mentally on our calendars. I figure if she wants to see me, she’ll text me.

A few of the girls suggested hitting the bars after the game, just to blow off some steam. I agree, figuring if I’m far, far away from Paige, I can’t do anything stupid.

No such luck.

Within five minutes of arriving at the first bar, the entirety of the UConn women’s basketball team rolls up, very loud and clearly very ready to drink. Paige is at the center of the fuss, whooping and hollering until her eyes land on me. Her arms shoot to her sides, eyes wide with alarm as though I’ve just chastised her. I bite back a smile at how cute she is. 

Maybe it’s the shot I’ve already taken. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t seen her in months. Maybe it’s the fact that the skin on my waist is still electrified from where she touched me earlier. I hold my hand up towards her, crooking my finger.

Paige’s expression shifts from bashful to curious. She makes her way over to me, leaning onto the other side of the elevated table. “Good game,” I note, swirling a straw in my dirty Shirley. She plucks the cherry out of it, popping it into her mouth. “I know,” she says smugly, smirking at me. I roll my eyes, feeling a smile tugging at my lips. “So cocky.”

“You always like that, though, huh?” 

I cock my head at her, taking a sip of my drink. “Mmm, not really.”

She places the stem of the cherry in between her teeth, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe not on the court. But definitely in other places.”

My stomach tenses at this, and I lean further onto the table. There’s a tug in my chest, telling me this is going in a direction that it shouldn’t go. That I should stop this. 

“Like where?” I ask.

“What? You need a reminder?” She asks, slowly circling the table to reach me. She comes to a stop in front of me, bracing her hand on the table behind me. Her touch is light, but she’s effectively caging me in.

“Maybe I do,” I hum. Her eyes dart to my lips. Her other hand lands on my waist, palm gliding to my back, fingers splaying against my bare skin. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she whispers, and I nod eagerly, reaching for her face. Her lips meet mine softly, insistently, saying everything I want to.

I miss you.

I want you.

I need you.

I let her kiss me, letting myself melt into her as her tongue pushes slowly between my lips. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way she tastes, so sweet and soft and familiar. I moan softly, and it spurs her on, her other hand moving to my waist to push her hips against mine. I kiss her back harder, breaths coming out shortly through my nose. 

“I’m going home with you tonight, aren’t I?” I pant, knowing all my bullshit about maturity and whatnot flew out the window the second her eyes met mine in this bar.

Paige nods, still kissing me hungrily. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

We hardly get inside my apartment before Paige is tugging on my clothing, muttering, “Off, off, off.” I laugh, tugging her to my room before shedding my crop top and my jeans. I push her onto my bed, straddling her waist in nothing but my panties and bra. Her hands fly to my ass, but I’m too focused on pulling her shirt off and tossing it to the side. 

Then I sag into her, balancing my arms around her shoulders and kissing her deeply.

I want to memorize the taste of her against my mouth, because I know this is only for tonight. 

Tomorrow, we go back to being strangers who know everything about one another.

Her hands fumble with the clasp of my bra, and I grin, helping her slide it off of me. “You played really good tonight,” I tell her. “Shut up,” she murmurs, fondling my tits. I sigh, tipping my head back. “No, really. It was hot,” I insist, reaching for the drawstring of her sweats, then deciding to just press my fingers into her clothed core. “If you need a game to get off too, I have a few good ones- oh, fuck, from the tournament last year.”

Her smartass comment is interrupted by me pressing hard against her core, eliciting the expletive. “You’re filthy,” I chide. “And you’re wet. Take your panties off.” She tosses me off of her, and I bounce onto the bed next to her. She pulls my panties down my legs, then gets off the bed to take off the rest of her clothing. 

“Speaking of getting off,” I mumble, watching her pull her bra over her head. I bite my lip, taking in her breasts, her nipples taught, begging to be teased. “Mm?” She grunts, slipping out of her sweats. “You still have those pictures?”

She grins at me, her smile gummy, but still arrogant. “No shit.” She tosses her boxers to the side, and I reach for her. She climbs back onto the bed, sliding her legs in between mine. I can see her cunt from the angle that I’m lying on the bed, positively glistening. “What-what do you do? With the pictures?” I ask, suddenly out of breath.

She edges her hands under my ass, pulling me closer, her pussy a tantalizing distance from mine.

“You really wanna know?”

“Please.”

She hums, and I don’t know how she isn’t giving in, isn’t rubbing herself against me the way my whole body aches for her to do. Instead, she takes my nipples in between her index finger and thumb, rolling the bud. I whine, bucking my hips. 

“I think about fucking you…”

Then, finally, finally, her clit brushes mine, and I clutch at the sheets. “Then I fuck myself,” she bites.

Then she’s grinding against me, pussy sliding against mine. The noises from our bottom halves are borderline pornographic, and I grip her waist tightly, pushing my cunt against hers. She’s slow and purposeful, each stroke, coaxing a moan out of me, sending shivers of pleasure through my body.

“I forgot… how fucking good you feel,” she groans, biting her lip as she stares down at me. I grab my tits, desperate for more, more, more.

“So fucking beautiful on top of me,” I moan, and she laughs raspily.

“You fuck me better,” she murmurs, and my brow furrows, teeth digging into my bottom lip as I watch her body move. “Mm?” I ask, and she starts going faster. 

“Than when I get myself off. This is… so much better, shit,” she whimpers, but the mere thought of her touching herself sends shocks to my core. Then she lowers her body so that our torsos are flush against each other. “Yes, faster,” I beg, bucking my hips against her. I can feel it; the pressure building in my stomach. “Paige,” I pant, tapping her waist.

“Yes, baby?” She asks, pulling back, her hips slowing. “No, keep- keep going, just… kiss me. Please.” I hate how small my voice sounds, but when she speeds up again, lips claiming mine with a smile, I can’t think of anything else.

I babble against her lips.

“Missed you, baby.”

“Missed this so bad.”

“Just want you, fuck.”

She grins at this. “Nobody else? Just want me to fuck you like this, ma?”

I nod in response, and I’m so close, so close-

“Fuck!” Tears itself from my throat as the string in my stomach snaps, my back arching against her. “Almost there, just- fuck. Oh, fuck, Maya!” Paige’s moan when she finishes is desperately scratchy. Her hips move against mine slowly as we both ease down from it. “Make me feel so good… everytime,” she pants, whispering the words into my mouth as she kisses me, her tongue chasing mine lazily.

She eases out from under me to straddle my waist, still kissing me slowly. “You got one more?” She asks. I shake my head. “Come on. Just one more for me, ma. I know you can,” she coos, kissing down my body. Her eyes meet mine as she takes a tit in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as her hand toys with the other one. I whimper at the sight, biting my lip.

“Wanna make me so proud, don’t you?” She soothes, and that’s all it takes. I give in and nod.

She grins, flipping me over and pulling me flush against the chest as she stands at the edge of the bed, propping me up on my knees. “You wanna play with your tits while I fuck you, ma? Look so pretty for me?” I oblige quickly, hands flying to my chest.

Paige tuts in my ear. “Such a good girl for me,” she whispers, trailing her hands down my body as her lips latch to my neck. I moan at the sensation, the pleasure from my nipples prickling through me with the feeling of her lips on my skin. “Yes,” I sigh. “This is such a bad idea,” she murmurs. I nod stupidly, distracted by her fingers on my inner thigh.

“But you just make me so fucking weak,” Paige groans, and the sheer desire in my voice threatens to make my knees buckle. “The sight of you in that little skirt… I’m fucked, Maya.” I shudder out a sigh, nodding as her finger presses against my sensitive clit. “I know,” I whisper. “I mean, the second I see you,” she whispers, dipping two fingers into me. My head tips back all the way, resting in the crook of her neck. “I just wanna fuck you.”

“I know,” I whine, relishing in the feeling of her fingers sliding slowly in and out of me. 

“Still want you. Just you, ma.”

I bite my lips, sighing as her thumb circles my clit. “Just you, Paige.”

She presses another soft kiss to my neck. “Good,” she whispers.

Then she’s driving into me mercilessly, and I’m crying out, sagging against her body as she hits that spot over and over and over again. Her free arm wraps around my torso as she fucks me. “Take it so good. Take it so fucking good,” she mutters, and she sounds drunk. When I crane my neck to kiss her, her eyes are just about glazed over, hungry and desperate. “I’m gonna-” I whimper. “I know,” she whispers back, her free arm now at my jaw. “Just let go,” she coaxes. “Just come for me.”

And I do, her name scratching against my throat as I fuck down against her fingers, chasing the high, going boneless when it hits me. A cry escapes my lips, but Paige is there, talking me through it. I can’t even process what she’s saying - I just feel the weight of her breath against my ear, feel the shivers her gravelly tone sends through me.

Later that night, I lay against Paige's bare chest, inhaling her scent. Tears prick at my eyes. I hate myself. I hate her.

But I don’t. I love her so goddamn much, and the thought makes me want to cry. I stare out into the darkness of my room, wondering, like I always do, if we’ve well and truly fucked this up for good.

[niningtori]

make you cry | part three: hyuka's ending

part one | part two: beomgyu's ending

pairing: hueningkai x you, past beomgyu x you

summary: after your falling out with beomgyu, kai becomes your new best friend as you spiral out of control. his actions may not be completely platonic, though.

genre: angst, romance, smut (mdni), best friends to lovers

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!hyuka, oral (f. rec), dirty talk, praise, choking (sorry), possessive!kai, just some really sweet sex if u ask me, pregnancy kink

word count: 3.9k

notes: y'all... ik i said this would come out on my bday (which is exactly 2 weeks from now hehe) but i couldn't help but post it as soon as i finished it... lord knows i'm impatient. anyway, i said this would probably never exist but since ppl were asking for it, as the biggest pushover in the world, i couldn't say no ;_; i hope you enjoy it!

"you're not gonna die," kai says softly. "it's a shitty circumstance, but you're just making it harder on yourself."

you hum noncommittally while downing another searing shot of vodka. kai watches in horror as you don't even think to chase it, too much of a hassle, you said.

"look, i know how you're feeling, trust me. i just think that torturing yourself is the worst thing you can do right now. whatever happened to self care in the face of heartbreak?" he pleads, and it's like he's talking to a wall. you had been staring listlessly at the same spot for what had to have been at least an hour — no tears, no nothing. just a blank stare and an insatiable need for the next sip.

"yeah, i know. i just wish things were different." you were miserable being just friends with beomgyu before, but that pales in comparison to how used you feel now that you’ve slept with him. 

"i know, baby. i know." at this point, he kind of just wishes you would cry. the awful look on your face seems significantly worse than if you'd just burst into tears.

beomgyu is your best friend, sure, but as you slowly descended into a pit of unrequited love for him, kai had understood like no one else after a particularly nasty breakup with his serial cheating ex. you two found some sort of secret camaraderie in the feeling of loneliness, something beomgyu would never understand, given how easily everything tended to work out for him. except for right now, you guess.

"alright, i think i'm done here," you slur and shakily stand as the vodka seems to be doing its job. kai scowls in frustration, wishing he could do more for you, but knowing he can't.

-

kai refuses to let you go home alone, so he hitches a taxi for you two. in the backseat of the car, you lean your head on the window and close your eyes, but all you see is the repeating image of beomgyu with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he shows you the girl who will probably end up fucking. you feel mentally sick knowing those eyes will never light up that way for you. you feel physically sick knowing that you gave him everything now and it still wasn’t enough. 

then, as if hearing your thoughts, kai carefully slides his hand around your cheek, which is currently somewhat numb from the coldness of the window and bumpiness of the ride, and softly places your head on his shoulder.

when you finally get to your apartment, you invite him in. he can tell you just don't want to be alone, but he doesn't say anything, just wraps an arm around you as you lead him into your bedroom. after plopping down in your bed, he turns to leave before you grab the end of his shirt.

"can you stay with me?" you plead. and he nods without a word. lying down next to you before pulling you in his warm embrace.

"you know, i think you're gonna be just fine," he whispers into the top of your head. and just like that, the dam breaks, and you finally, finally burst into tears. wail, really. 

you kick your legs like a child, chanting "no, no, no," and lamenting on and on about how things are wrong, wrong, wrong. this isn't how things were supposed to go. he was supposed to fall in love with you and open his eyes and see who’s been with him all along. he’d apologize and kiss you gently to make up for lost time. you hate how you hoped against hope that he would return your feelings and finally, finally start respecting you. but none of that happened the way it should. the way you so fervently hoped it would.

kai just pats your head and rubs your hair, all while cooing "shhh, i know. i know.”

you lay there with him, legs all tangled together and heart aching until you fall into a fitful sleep. 

-

you miss beomgyu, that goes without saying, but it's getting easier these days. this is due in no small part to kai’s persistence. he comes to see you nearly every day and calls you when he can’t. you spend countless nights with him on speakerphone. most nights, he talks about his day, where he went, the people he saw. on the really, really bad nights, he’s just trying to console you. like right now. 

“shh, it’s okay. i know,” he whispers into the phone.

“i-i’m sorry, hyuka. i’m just so sad,” you sob.

“no, don’t be sorry. why are you sorry?” he coos.

“because i’m dumping this all over you. it’s not your job to baby me,” you cry, feeling guilty beyond words, which only makes you cry harder.

“you’ve done the same for me. you know that. i couldn’t have gotten through my breakup if it weren’t for you, so you don’t need to be sorry. i’m here. i’ll always be here.” if you were less confused and hurt, you’d hear the extent of his tenderness. you might even realize how he’s bending over backwards in a way that’s reminiscent of the way you did for beomgyu. the way somebody who really loves you only ever does. but as it is, you don’t register any of it.

-

beomgyu shows up at your doorstep, sometimes. he doesn’t ever really say anything other than your name in a desperate voice between pleas to let him in, but you never do. you have no idea how strong your resolve will or won’t be if you see his face again, so you do your best to avoid him altogether. on a particularly bad night, though, you feel your self control waning. listening to what he has to say just once couldn’t hurt, right? you can’t stand the uncertainty and this seemingly endless purgatory you find yourself in now. you decide, no matter what the outcome is, you’ll put a stop to it tonight.

with newfound courage, you lightly crack your front door to come face to face with the boy who's been haunting you for months now. his red-rimmed eyes widen in shock as he finally sees you in person instead of from his friend’s instagram account. 

“what do you want?” you attempt to ask coolly, but you sound unsteady even to your own ears. beomgyu doesn’t seem to notice, though, and if does, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“i just wanna talk to you,” he pleads, and you nod before widening the door and letting him in. you gesture for him to take a seat next to you on your couch and he cautiously sits while never breaking eye contact with you, as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

“so?” you ask plainly. he clears his throat as if he's been in a daze until now and nervously begins.

“i-i’m sorry for what i did to you. so, so sorry,” beomgyu says weakly. “and i miss you so much i can’t stand it.”

“then why did you do it?” you ask, not without a hint of malice.

“i.. i don’t know. i think i was just so scared to be hurt that i hurt you instead. but being away from you has shown me just how much i need you.” need. what a strange word coming from beomgyu’s mouth. as for needing you in particular? even stranger. 

“you know, i really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, but even he knows how flimsy his words seem right now.

“i know,” you reply quietly.

“i ruined everything,” he says with a sense of finality, no room for argument. “i know i did. but i-is it always going to be like this? i don’t think i can live without you in my life, one way or another.”

“i don’t know, beomgyu.” he flinches at the use of his full name. “it’s going to take some time before we can be friends again.” if ever. you don’t say those last words, but he can swear he hears them.

“that’s okay,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “as long as you know that i’m sorry, and that you didn’t and don’t deserve how i treated you.”

“i know,”  you repeat. you can’t believe you’re not bawling and pulling him into your arms right now, for better or for worse, but surprisingly, you don’t feel any of the emotions you could’ve bet your life you would feel. you pity him more than anything, and your heart does ache, but more so for the friendship you lost instead of the love that never was. beomgyu wasn’t your best friend for nothing, so as if he can sense how detached you are from him, he says his next words.

“are you seeing him?” he asks with a tinge of melancholy.

“who?” you ask, taken aback at his sudden question.

“c’mon, be serious. kai.”

“k-kai? what do you mean?” he smiles bitterly at your words. 

“i’ve seen the way he looks at you. if you don’t see it yourself, you’re either delusional or blind. after i last saw you, he really told me all about myself.”

“he talked to you after that?” you ask in shock.

“oh yeah. he said he’d beat the brakes off of me if i ever tried to hurt you again, and the only reason why he hadn’t done it already was because you would be sad.” you pause at his earth-shattering words. your sweet hyuka really said that? you can’t imagine someone as soft and caring as him uttering such unforgiving words, but when you think about how much pain he knew you were in, it makes sense. kai had seen the worst parts of you after beomgyu had broken your heart. only he knew just how much you were hurting, and only he would care as much as he did. you don’t know why, but you can’t help but smile softly at the thought of him being so riled up that he acted completely out of character for you. just for you.

“and if i know you, and i do, i’d say that you probably feel the same way he does.” you gasp at his observation. how could he possibly think that?

“y-you’re wrong! we’re just good friends.” best friends, even. you haven’t really thought about kai in that context. everything you’ve ever done seemed purely platonic on your end. but now that you’re really thinking about it, is it actually? the late night phone calls, spending the night in his arms, waking up to kisses on your forehead and promises to see you later. that’s not what “just friends” do, is it? 

“really? then you’d be okay with him acting the same way he does with you with literally anyone else?” you’re at a loss for words at this. what would you do if kai showed his gentleness to anyone else the same way he does for you? how would you react to him staying up all night on the phone with another girl? to him dropping everything just to make sure she’s eaten? to looking at someone else with infinite warmth and care? you wouldn’t like it at all. 

beomgyu smiles sadly at your reaction. he knows now that you’ll never love him again. not in the way he’s realized he loves you. but that’s okay. love is supposed to be selfless. he realizes that now as he watches you stutter and vehemently deny the love you have so obviously begun to have for another man.

on your end, all you can think is: oh god, how long have you been stringing kai along? since your fallout with beomgyu? or even before that? sure, you could hide under the pretense of being each other’s primary support system in heartbreak, but you can’t do that forever. especially not now. in the middle of your reverie, the sound of your front door opening snaps you back to reality. who else would it be besides the boy in question?

“what the fuck are you doing here?” kai growls when he catches sight of beomgyu. he had just stopped by to see if you’re okay since you hadn’t texted him back in awhile. he figured he’d walk in to you sleeping soundly, not to the sight of you and beomgyu getting cozy on your couch. you, of course, were decidedly not getting cozy with beomgyu in the slightest, but kai couldn’t see that in the midst of his rage. 

“me? i’m leaving now,” beomgyu says, sensing danger and cleverly wanting to escape it.

“yeah, you’d better,” kai spits. 

when beomgyu shuts the door behind him, kai immediately turns to you.

“did he hurt you?” you shake your head no. 

“are you okay?” he asks and all you can do is nod. actually, you haven’t felt this okay in a long, long time. things that didn’t previously make sense to you are incredibly clear now. you love kai, you really do. you loved beomgyu, obviously, but those feelings of pain are gone now that you feel the tenderness that is actual, reciprocated love. 

“kai?” you ask in the middle of his barrage of questions about what happened.

“yes?” he asks, completely dropping his interrogation as soon as you say his name. 

“do you love me?” his face crumbles at this question.

“don’t be stupid, of course i love you. you’re my best friend.” 

“not like that. i mean, do you love, love me?” you search his eyes for an answer. his mouth widens and he sputters for a moment before realizing there’s no way out.

“...yes.”

“since when?” you can’t help but ask.

“since always,” he says with a smile, reminiscent of the words you had spoken to beomgyu all that time ago. you can’t even imagine how kai must have felt when he saw you pining after beomgyu, and for so long. actually, you can. that’s how you felt about beomgyu. your heart aches when you think that you’ve unintentionally inflicted the same pain on the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“what about your ex?” 

“she’s not you. and i think… i think she knew my heart was never really in it. not like it is with you. i think that’s why she cheated.” it still hurt to be cheated on by her, to be clear, but not more than it did to see your eyes following beomgyu every second of every day. when he cried to you about her, he was really just crying over you.

“i’m… i know you’re not into me like that, and that's okay, it really is. i just don’t want to lose you.” your heart flutters at his words. kai’s selflessness, his care, his indulgence. his love. you try to imagine a world where kai shows the sides he shows to you to someone else. you’d feel absolutely gutted, now that you think about it. unconsciously, you’ve grown to want to monopolize everything about him. you can’t imagine giving him up, not for anyone. not even for beomgyu.

without another word, you gently place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards yours. you kiss him softly, tenderly, and he can’t help but gasp before melting into the kiss. there’s so much care behind it along with love, appreciation, and the sense of making up for lost time.

his eyes redden when you insert your tongue into his pliant mouth. 

“s-stop. any more, and i won’t be able to hold back.” “so don’t hold back,” you say as you grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom.

“a-are you sure?” he asks nervously.

“i’m sure,” you say breathily. “i love you, too. so please, just take care of me, okay?” he can’t hold himself back now. the girl he loves is practically begging him to take her, what kind of person would he be if he said no? so he doesn’t. with great care, he strips your clothes off of you and watches in awe as he sees your naked body in front of him. slowly, intentionally, he lays you down on your bed and admires you for all that you are. your cheeks heat up as he presses kisses onto every inch of your trembling body, almost like he’s trying to mark you with a seal that makes you his own, completely. almost like he’s removing traces of anyone else, and you love the feeling of practically being worshiped by a man who’s clearly in love with you.

eventually, his kisses become more and more fiery as he inches towards your fluttering pussy. 

with a curse, he grabs a pillow and shoves it underneath your hips, raising your glistening cunt so you can more easily fully take in the sight of him lapping up your sweetness like he’s starving. you’ve felt similar pleasure before, but nothing quite like this. is this how it feels to be with someone you love who truly loves you back? you think so. your legs are shaking and involuntarily caging him in between them, but he doesn’t try to resist you. it’s like he could die happily in between your legs as he moans into your cunt, the vibrations racking through your body deliciously. he chuckles when you gasp at the feeling of one of his long, knobby fingers entering your heat. he curls experimentally, you cry out his name when he finds your sweet spot and taps it mercilessly, sliding another finger in and following suit. the sweet feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit and the cruel curling of his fingers is enough to bring you to your climax. you cry out his name as your toes curl and legs shake, which only spurs him further, slurping up your slick like he can’t stand the thought of losing a single drop.

“did that feel good, baby? you wanted me to take care of you, right? so just sit back and let me do it. i’ll make you feel better than you ever have.”

he rips off his shirt and unceremoniously tosses it behind him. you’re panting now, gasping for air, but he’s not done with you yet. he sits up and unbuckles his pants, sliding them down his creamy thighs and letting his cock stand tall. his whole body is flushed pink with embarrassment when you take him all in, matching his reddened member, which is currently leaking profusely with precum. he’s so needy for you, and you can see it all over his bright pink face. you should be tired from the intense orgasm he just gave to you, but you can’t help but gulp in anticipation as he lines himself up with your entrance. slowly, he pushes his wide tip in your spasming pussy. 

“o-oh, god,” he says as he splits you open. you can’t even form words because the stretch you feel is absolutely scorching, so you whine instead. tears spring in your eyes as he shakily pulls out then pierces you with one fluid motion, bottoming out completely. 

“y-you’re going to break me,” you cry.

“oh, baby. it’s alright, you can take me,” he says soothingly, but not without a tinge of mischief. that’s all you get before he begins thrusting into you. the harsh curve of his cock dragging along your walls and inadvertently hitting your g spot relentlessly has you opening your mouth, trying not to drool, but failing when he sticks his thumb in your mouth. like a madwoman, you begin to desperately suck on it, which only fuels the fire even more. 

“you look so pretty sucking on me like that,” he coos. “bet you wish it was my dick instead, don’t you?” he snickers as he stuffs his cock into your pussy. “i’ll give it to you every day, okay? you don’t have to beg.” you nod pathetically in agreement. the thought of kai filling you up every day has you needier than before, somehow. you need this feeling, the feeling only he can give you.

his body is scorching hot in your arms. his cock throbbing inside you? even hotter. you watch in awe as he rams himself into you, your whole body shaking with every thrust. 

“t-take it, you can fucking take it. my pretty girl, so fucking perfect for me,” he praises.

this can’t be your sweet, sweet hyuka, right? but as your teary eyes look up at him, you know it has to be. as if he can hear your thoughts, he smirks as he takes one of his hands and lightly grips your throat. it’s not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to have you whimpering. he calls your name lovingly as he drills into your swollen pussy, walls clenching down around him. you whimpering out his name in tandem with the indecent sounds of his balls slapping against you ring inside his head. he feels more and more that he’s losing his grip on reality as he continues to impale you on his cock. a shudder pulsates through you as you feel an orgasm approaching again. you don’t have to say it’s coming, because he can feel it when you clench around him, pussy begging him not to leave as it sucks him in deeper and deeper. 

“fuck, baby, you look so beautiful coming undone around my cock. so gorgeous, this pussy is the best, never wanna leave it.”

neither of you feel particularly sane at the moment, especially not as he clutches your thigh to steady himself as he thoroughly fucks you into your soiled mattress, hand still gripping your throat. 

“gonna come, gonna get you pregnant so everyone knows not to mess with you. do you want that? do you want everyone to know how good i’m fucking you? that you’re all mine?”

“yes, yes, yes! come inside, please!” you manage to choke out. you place your arms around his neck and dig the heels of your feet into his ass as he drills into you. that’s all it takes, really, before his warm seed fills you to the brim. he moans as he releases his grip on your neck and pumps it further and further into you, pushing his load into your cervix as he peppers your face and neck with sweet kisses. 

he collapses, pushing your hair off of your sweaty face so he can get a better look at you. 

“d-did i hurt you?” he asks cautiously, only sobering up now that his release has come.

“it was good, i liked it,” you giggle, admiring his cuteness. he smiles contentedly as he places one hand on your stomach and gently caresses it. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you’re really mine.” mine. what a beautiful word, only made more beautiful by the boy who’s insisting you belong to each other.

“i could say the same thing about you,” you whisper, placing your hand on his blushing cheeks. 

“wanna go again?” he asks, cock already hardening once more.

“w-what?” you ask dumbly as he shifts from beside you.

“i meant it when i said i want everyone to know you’re mine,” he says, positioning himself over you again and sliding his cock up and down your slit. he was right. you’ve never felt this good before in your life, and you wouldn’t want it to be because of anyone else.

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast @softesyoongi

series taglist*: @gyulinoo @moamidzyism @sooberryworld @dreamxerz @sweetttkissess @gothraccoons @jaxyy219 @idontwantoeatspicy @soobsfairy444 @denleave1088 @notevenheretbh1 @fairfootedflekk @hihello-pinky @ilovesimjaehyun143 @seolis-world @midwinterblizzard @slutty-cherry @run2min

*if you were tagged in part two: beomgyu's ending i assumed u wanted to be tagged in this one too! if i was wrong, i'm sorry n i will delete ur tag jus lmk!!

[vscabarca]

Heyy could i request a fermin fluff fic where the reader is overworking herself with college stuff and not really taking care of herself. Fermin noticed it and helps her relax. Thank you:)

summary: fermín helps you relax after you‘ve overworked yourself with schoolwork.

genre: fluff

a/n: thank you anon for your patience🫶🏼 hope you like it!

———

Biology books scattered around the coffee table, notes laying around your desk and various folders laid splattered around the bed. Your whole apartment was a mess as you haven’t tidied it up in days, if not even weeks. The upcoming exams in biology, maths and chemistry had been stressing you now for quite some weeks now, making you neglect everything else around you. Even though you started early with studying, it still didn’t satisfy you at all. Being a perfectionist was a blessing and curse at the same time. You didn’t even realize how your friends and family started to worry. They knew you weren’t the best in handling stressful situations, you never have. But you didn’t even realize how bad you were doing, you just kept going until you hit the breaking point.

Fermín, your boyfriend of two years, knew how you were doing during those phases and did not like it at all. He hated hearing you cry from overworking yourself, he hated how you didn’t look after you. Even more difficult was that he had a stressful schedule himself. University and football prevented him from coming over more and spend more time with his girl. Fermín mostly came over at night, sleeping at your place and heading to practice again early in the morning. You two tried to savor this time as much as you could, but right now it was very hard. The last time he came over was weeks ago and the worst part was, you didn’t even realize. You were too deep in schoolwork to notice anything.

Fermín grew more than concerned over the past days as you weren’t picking up calls and only vaguely replied to his texts. The cherry on top was a call from your mother, asking him how you’ve been. The next afternoon he stood in front of your door, a bag with your favorite snacks and small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

You looked up from your notes confused, asking yourself who would be at your door at three in the afternoon. You stirred downstairs, hairs falling from your bun and wearing clothes you haven’t changed in days. You peeked your head outside and immediately smiled when you saw Fermín standing there.

„What are you doing here?!“ You squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.

„Seeing how you’re doing!“ He replied with a laugh and gently led you inside. After setting down his bag and gifting you the flowers, he embraced you in a long hug and just relished the feeling of having his girl back in his arms. His eyes quickly wandered around your flat, eyes widening as he saw the mess of notes laying around everywhere. Dishes were piling up in the kitchen and just overall did it look like a bomb exploded.

Fermín then heard you sobbing quietly and only then did he realize you started to cry.

„Hey, hey, don’t cry. Everything‘s alright.“ He whispered and rocked you slowly from side to side. Just all the emotions caught up on you and you couldn’t help but tear up when thinking about it.

„I‘m just exhausted. Plus I realized I‘ve neglected you, my family and my friends. Now I feel bad.“ You weren’t crying much, just some individual tears rolling down your cheeks.

„Don’t feel bad. They already knew you had a lot going on. We‘re all here for you. We already knew you were overworking yourself, your mamá even called me.“ He chuckled and wiped away your tears. You giggled lightly, feeling much better already.

„C‘mon, why don’t you take a shower while I prepare something for us to eat. I bet you haven’t cooked something properly for yourself.“ You shook your head but liked the idea of a shower and feeling fresh afterwards.

„Why don’t you join me?“ You mused, trying to seduce him with your idea. After all you haven’t seen him for quite a while.

He snickered at your words but shook his head softly. „Trust me, I wouldn’t want anything more, but you need to relax. Ask me again tomorrow.“ Fermín winked and shushed you towards the bathroom. You took a steaming hot shower while he, unbeknownst to you, tidied up your whole apartment and laid out fresh clothes for you. Your heart swelled when you realized and gave him a sweet, tender kiss to thank him.

„Thank you.“

„Nothing to thank me. I just need you to look better after yourself amor.“

Dinner was served quickly after and after you two were done, he hushed you to the living room while he did the dishes. Fermín prepared a cozy movie night but as soon as he had you snuggled up close to him under the fuzzy blanket, you fell fast asleep in his arms.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I would like to request, #33 "Why have you been ignoring me?" and #20 "Marry me." Like maybe Eddie is so nervous about proposing, he's been avoiding the reader until she goes to his trailer to talk to him.

I love your writing so so so much 💜💜

Hello, lovely! I always see you liking my posts and I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: hurt/ comfort

Prompts used: 20. “Marry Me.” and 33. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

You and Eddie had been together for three years and from the beginning, everyone thought that you were going to get married. It was clear that you had been in love with each other for a long time and it was only a matter of time that you got together.

Little did you know that Eddie had bought a ring not long after you started dating because he just knew that you were the one. He had kept the thing in his desk drawer and was grateful you didn’t like the snoop or else he would have been fucked.

Eddie was usually very clingy, but lately, though, you had noticed that he had become more distant. He had been ignoring your calls and it had gotten to the point where you hadn’t seen him in over a week, which was weird since the two of you were attached at the hip, seeing each other every single day without fail. With that, you had no choice but to believe that he was going to break up with you. What else could you believe when he hadn’t even wanted to talk to you?

Because you didn’t want to give up on what the two of you had, you decided to go over to his trailer and find out for yourself. You had to know what was going on. That wasn’t like him and it was killing you not knowing what was happening.

You burst through the door that was always unlocked and made a beeline for his room. You stood in the door way and Eddie was quick to turn around from his desk, his face lighting up when he saw you, but quickly deflated when he saw that you had been crying.

“If you’re breaking up with me just say that,” you said, trying to hold back your tears but they just kept coming.

Eddie was quick to get out of his chair and head towards you to pull you into his arms. After that, the tears kept flowing while he let you cry, letting you get it out before you told him what was wrong.

You just couldn’t stand losing him. You couldn’t let him let you go. You were going to hold on tight as long as you could. You couldn’t let the best thing that ever happened to you slip through your fingers.

“Honey, what is going on?” He pulled back to look at you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m not breaking up with you. Why would you think that?”

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I-” he cut himself off, trying his best to explain what had been going on without ruining the whole thing. He didn’t have anything elaborate planned, but he still wanted to do it on his own terms. But he supposed that there was no time like the present.

Eddie pulled away from you and headed over to his desk. He slowly opened the drawer where he had kept the ring and pulled out the blue velvet box before turning towards you.

You noticed that he had something hidden behind his back and that his eyes were starting to tear up. He slowly got down on one knee and you let out a gasp as you realized what he was doing and covered you mouth with your hands as you did so. Eddie then pulled the box out from behind his back and opened it, the beautiful ring practically shining.

“Y/n, I’ve known you for quite some time and I have to say that I’ve never been happier. We’ve been together for three years now and I can confidently say that they’ve been the best three years of my life.” He was now getting choked up and it made your eyes water seeing that thinking about marrying you made him so emotional.

You couldn’t believe it. He had been proposing and now you felt so awful for thinking that he was going to break up with you. It had actually been the opposite and he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Marry me.” He said the words through tears and you couldn’t help but nod furiously. You urged him to stand up and he put the ring on your finger before you pulled him into a lingering kiss.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you pressed your lips to his again. He slowly backed up to the bed and collapsed onto it, the two of you deciding to start your engagement off sleeping together, wanting to seal it by getting tangled up in Eddie’s sheets.

[echo-bleu]

“How do you even know he's alive?” asks Fingon.

Maglor watches him for a long moment, his face grave and closed in a way Fingon doesn't remember ever seeing before.

“Come with me,” he finally says.

With a swish of his long cloak, his armour perfectly oiled and silent, he turns around and leads Fingon to a side door. They ascend the winding, undecorated steps in silence. Fingon has a million things to say, to ask, to shout now that they're in private, but in the face of Maglor's stone countenance, the magnitude of the loss of his uncle and Maedhros, he can no longer find the words.

Before the narrow, windowless staircase can grow fully dark, the light of the sun filters in from another opening at the top. They come out on a crenelled tower, far above the rest of the fortress. Fingon looks around, discovering the lands of Beleriand from a bird's point of view.

Maglor stands there and waits him out without a word. When Fingon finally turns to him, he gestures at the North. There, beyond the snow-covered plains and pine forests, looms a sheer black cliff.

“Angband,” Maglor says. “The mountain is called Thangorodrim.”

“What am I looking for?”

Maglor sighs and shields his eyes from the sun with his hands, staring at the cliff face. “Close to the top, where it's the sheerest.”

Fingon squints. He doesn't know what to expect, so he has no time to shield his mind between the moment he spots a figure up there, dangling from the cliff, and the moment he understands.

Maglor reels back, as if struck. Fingon finds that he can't breathe.

He falls to his knees against the battlement. Nothing can make him tear his eyes from the figure of Maedhros hanging by his arm from the cliff. His stomach is trying to rebel, and tears blur his vision, keeping him from desperately looking for any sign of life.

“How long?” he manages to choke out.

“Almost two years, as close as I could tell,” Maglor says. He doesn't sound much less choked up, though this is clearly a habitual sight to him.

Two years. Almost two thirds of the time it took them to cross the Ice.

How has Maedhros survived this long?

“There's a winged creature who comes to feed him once a week.” Maglor must have caught his thought. “Well, force-feed him, really. I suppose Morgoth must think him a valuable hostage.” He pauses for a moment, still staring forward. “He's not wrong.”

Fingon has had too much. The strangled sob in his throat comes out as a cry of rage.

“And you've just left him there?”

For some reason when I was first reading the Silmarillion I got it into my head that they could see Maedhros from Mithrim... It's not geographically correct, but it's heartbreaking enough to share. The years mentioned here are of course Tree years, ten Sun years apiece.

[oatmilk-vampire]

steddie suspense for my lovelies <3 tw: panic attack, mention of death // ~700 words

-

Steve feels the exact moment the blood drains from his face.

Of course his mind would find a way to ruin this, using an innocent conversation between the two of them against him to prove he will never be okay.

“Did you give ‘em hell, baby?” Eddie had asked with a crooked grin when Steve was talking about the unruly customers he had to deal with earlier.

He bites his cheek hard as the lights flicker and dim around him, as the four walls of his room shift into the cruel expanse of the Upside Down.

He wants to run. He doesn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“No.” He breaths out, voice just as shaky as his limbs.

“No? That’s okay. Maybe next time.” Eddie shrugs, as if Steve wasn’t struggling to breath.

He has to get away.

“Steve, where are you going?”

Why is he so cold? My God, he’s freezing.

“I gotta go. I gotta go. I can’t be here.”

“Steve, wait!”

He’s using that voice again, the one from earlier that makes Steve squirm. He doesn’t know why, though. Not yet. All he knows is it’s too much. His chest physically aches at the intensity of emotion.

Steve starts breathing fast and shallow.

It’s too much. He’s too cold, and he can’t breathe, dry ice invades his lungs.

The room starts to close in on him. His heartbeat races so fast he’s scared he may die, thinks maybe he already has. His breaths turn ragged as he tries desperately not to suffocate. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. He can’t make it stop. All he can do is reach out for the man in front of him. All he can do is try to get away from him.

“Oh shit. Come on, Stevie. I’m sorry. I was teasing—I didn’t mean to—”

Whatever tone Eddie was using before is gone, instantly replaced by something closer to his normal voice, only maybe a little softer.

“Hey—hey it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” He wraps his arms around Steve, dragging him down, down, down until he’s sitting. Pulled so close he’s practically in Eddie's lap.

Steve feels himself melt into Eddie’s touch, throwing his arms around his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in his fists. He buries his face against his chest as he continued struggling to breathe. Steve is horrified to realize it’s warm and sticky, slick with something he doesn’t want to look at. Can’t stand to see.

“Shhh It’s okay. I’ve got you Steve, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Eddie murmurs, cradling his head and petting his hair in soothing repetitive motions.

“Try to take some deep breaths, okay? You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

Steve is still shaking in Eddie’s arms, and may or may not be making pitiful noises as he hyperventilates and cries, but he does try to slow his ragged breaths by matching them to the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. Being held so tightly, and having the steady rhythms of Eddie’s heartbeat and breathing to focus on helps tremendously. It takes him a while to realize that was the whole point.

“I’ve got you, Steve. You’re doing so good. Keep taking deep breaths with me.”

Eddie’s voice is so gentle, so caring, and his exaggerated breaths are so soothing and easy to follow, Steve almost can’t remember why he’s so scared. Eddie’s here. Eddie’s here with him. Why did that feel so wrong?

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he stops shaking.

Eddie keeps comforting him, whispering soft praise against the top of Steve’s head.

“There you go. Deep breaths. You’re doing so good. Just stay with me. This will end, I promise.”

That’s when the dam breaks.

Steve lifts his head from Eddie’s chest, blinking away his tears.

“You’re not here, you’re not here. You’re not real.” Steve backs away, tries to shield himself, tries to get away.

Eddie follows after him, quick to pull him back into his arms in a tight embrace, preventing Steve from going anywhere.

“You’re okay, Stevie. You’re right here. I’m right here. It’s okay. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Just me. Focus on me.”

“You?”

“Me.”

Steve shakes his head, a new sob rips through his constricting throat.

“No, Eddie. You’re dead. You died.”

Steve squeezes him tight, knows the moment he lets go reality will come back to him. The false memories and imaginary conversations his consciousness had conjured up will be revealed as exactly that: fake.

He’ll be all alone.

“You’re not real.”

[garfunklefield]

toji fushiguro headcannons?

Bend it Backwards!

18+ viewer discretion advised

Fem!reader/Toji Fushiguro Warnings: sfw and nsfw headcannons, mentions of pegging, fetish talk Word count: 576 DESC: Let’s get to know Mr. Zenin!

I don’t think I’ve seen these kind of headcanons around. I genuinely stand by the last one and I’ll write it too.

SFW:

Creative!

I think being broke for a lot of his life, Toji is super creative when it comes to just about everything. Your bike broke? He has a hack for that. Your car AC stopped working? Hack!

So my main point? I think Mr. Zenin is good at cooking. He can take anything shitty in your fridge and turn it into something decent. It’s impressive really.

Anger!

He doesn’t have the best cap on your anger. He can get mad at the drop of a hat, and take it out by loudly groaning and huffing. I don’t think Toji yells, since he knows how triggering it could be for some.

Maybe after he started dating you he decided to go to anger management classes. I like to imagine whenever someone pisses him off he just starts clenching his fists and goes “Anger management. Anger management.”

It’s only ever failed once. And that ended in a fist fight.

Fashion…?

Toji can’t dress for shit. I’m SORRY (no I’m not). He’s the type to go to Old Navy and look in the clearance section. If it’s in his size (which I think is 1XL) he’ll buy it.

So he has a random collection of shirts. I think if it’s clearance it doesn’t matter if it’s from the women’s section, he’ll wear it. There’s definitely a shirt in his closet that says wine mom.

Body!

I think in his prime he was ripped, and he still is, but not everyone’s going to have a 6 pack all the time. Don’t get me wrong, Toji is super strong. He can lift you and your mom. But, he’s got some chub on him.

At first he was embarrassed, trying to work out more to compensate for it. However, you helped him learn to embrace the soft parts on his body. So I do think he’s got a dad bod going on. But a true dad bod, not Jason Memoa between movies.

NSFW:

Up the ass!

Toji likes it up the ass. He didn’t know initially, even though he was once a man whore. It happened when you suggested pegging. My guy didn’t really know what that was and said sure because, let’s face it, he’ll do anything once.

He was surprised to find he really liked it. Now, Toji’s a bit embarrassed, so he only likes to get pegged on special occasions. So think Valentine’s Day or his birthday. You don’t mind, but you like how whiney he gets. It’s one of the only times you’ll hear him whine and whimper in a low tone.

Bisexual!

Toji is bisexual, or really just- he’ll fuck anyone. I say bisexual though since he has a strong preference for women, but he’s been in his fair share of homoerotic relationships.

His bisexual awakening was, follow me here, Marilyn Mason. This segways into the next headcannon ok!!

Goth fetish!

Mr. Zenin has a goth person fetish. It’s embarrassing now because Marilyn Mason is a shit asshole, but back then he was frothing over the pale menace. Now his fetish isn’t tik tok goths, no. He wants a true, trad goth to ride him.

Black lipstick smudges by his cock, your huge black wings smudged from how he fucks you. He loves women with shaved sides on their heads, teased hair. stretched piercings, split tongues. Oh, he’s into all of it. He wants a woman who wants to drink his blood and sacrifice his soul.

[water-loos]

Chocolate

“We’re dressed in black from head to toe, we’ve got guns hidden under our petticoats”

dealer!eddie x witchy!ditsy!fem!reader

cw: drug mention, drug use mention, tooth rotting fluff

wc: 1,504

“Babe, just because they’re purple and you like the color does not mean that the Blazy’s are better,” Eddie groaned for the umpteenth time, looking at the older man behind the smoke shop counter for a lifeline.

“They’re the same price as the RAW cones! You’re the one who said we should expand the market and try and get some new customers. I’m telling you, all of my friends would start buying from you if they were getting a purple preroll. Even better if it’s a purple preroll of the special dreaming blend that I came up with,” You smiled brightly, long, dark nails tapping excitedly on the glass countertop. “It’s a great marketing tactic.”

“Sweetheart—“

“She’s got a point, Eddie. The ladies love it when their shit is all pretty,” The shop owner snorted.

“Thank you, Dennis!” You motioned toward the man, rings clacking on the counter as your hand came to rest on top. “A little sexist, but correct. Please, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked back at you, you could see his eyes melt. “Fine. Give me two shorts, two regulars, and two kings.”

“One pink, one purple?”

“Yes please!” You reached up to kiss your boyfriend right on the apple of his cheek, leaving behind a black cherry-colored lipstick mark. “I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll pinky swear on it.”

“You get your cones and your blend, that’s it,” His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as he looked down at you pointedly. “That’s it. I’m not having you take over my business, alright?”

“Mhm. That’s it. Just those,” You confirmed, nodding your head. “Can you ring up a few of those fun little incense cones in a separate order, Dennis? I’m running out and I need some for my altar.”

“Will do, sweetie. Just don’t give your man any more trouble, alright?”

“On my life, I will not give him any more trouble.”

——

You swore up and down that you would stop at the cones and the special blend of weed and other herbs.

But then you found a pack of navy blue mesh bags covered in tiny stars that could comfortably fit half an ounce at the craft store. In the clearance aisle. For $2.99.

“Baby, you have got to be kidding me,” Eddie sighed, watching you come in the door, platform boots stomping excitedly as you bounded into the living room of your shared trailer, the bags clutched in your hands. “Don’t tell me those are what I think they are.”

“They are that exactly! Aren’t they cute? Look,” You swung yourself into his lap, legs hanging over the arm of the rocker he had been lounging in. His arm instinctively wrapped around you and rested on your hip, making sure you wouldn’t fall off. “They can fit at least half an ounce and still have room. Not to mention the amount of prerolls you can fit! And they tie super nicely so you can keep everything together!”

His head buried into the crook of your neck, his dramatic groaning rumbling against your skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Is that a yes? Please tell me that’s a yes,” You immediately get excited, dropping the bags into your lap and looping your arms around his drooping shoulders. “Have I told you I love you this afternoon? If not, I love you. I love you more than the sky and the sea and the moon and the stars—“

“Yes, angel, you’ve told me you love me more than I can count today,” He laughed sweetly, lifting his head to look at your expression. You could tell he was trying so hard to stand his ground, but the smile on his lips gave him away. “I can’t let you use the bags, though. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“What, your reputation among college kids who invite you to every function even though you graduated two years early?” You joke, nodding toward his high school and college diplomas, which were framed above your fireplace. “What a thing to ruin!”

“Are you really going to bring up me graduating every chance you get?”

“Absolutely,” You kissed him sweetly, one hand smoothing over his hair. “My smart boy.”

“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up, you sap,” He ducked away, watching you cackle with a grin on his face. “How about we compromise?”

“A compromise?”

“Yes. You can make your fancy little prerolls with your mix and put them in your pretty little bags,” Your eyes widened, surprised that he was letting you do it that easily. “But, nothing else. No edibles, no flower, and none of the raw cones I’m still working through, okay?”

“I can work with that! It’s like a little side business! A partnership!”

“Yep. A partnership,” He tapped your hip and sat up slightly. “Let’s go get some stuff ready for later, alright? I’ve got to drop off to those monthly guys up in Chicago tonight.”

“Let me text some people and see if they want anything,” You got up off his lap, handing the bags off to him as he rose. “Can you put these at my seat while I go grab us some drinks?”

Eddie sighed heavily, rolling his eyes playfully. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“I love you, just a reminder!” You called as you left the room, a shit-eating grin on your face.

——

You ended up finding a few friends from college who lived in the city and wanted to try the new “dream bundles” as you called them. Each bundle was packaged with care and love, and Eddie watched endearingly as you meticulously packed each and every cone, lined them up in the bags, and even included some candies from your personal stash. The bags looked almost comical next to the brown bags that your boyfriend’s regular orders were in, but as you piled into his van, both his and your bags piled into one of your many tote bags, they looked perfect together.

He held your hand the whole two-hour drive into the city, a mixture of alternative rock and metal blaring through the speakers as you both sang along at the top of your lungs, a smile permanently etched into your lips. Eddie even let you be the one to run the bags up to each of his clients, watching with a lovesick smile and your favorite puppy dog eyes as each and every one of them smiled, happy to see you and your bubbly personality.

You practically skipped away from the final house of the night, grinning from ear to ear. You had sweet-talked the customer, a 6’3 and honestly terrifying security guard, into buying a couple of your special bundles for his girlfriend, who had waved at you from behind the open door.

With your empty tote bag swinging from your hand and your front pockets full of cash, you pranced up to Eddie, who leaned against the side of his van with a grin that could stop hearts on his face. Except, he was looking at you, who was the picture of joy.

“D’you see? I got him to buy three bundles! I told you they’d be a big seller,” You smiled brightly, chains jingling as you rocked back and forth on your heels. “He got them for his new girlfriend and he said he’d let you know how she likes them.”

“That’s great sweetheart,” He reached forward to pull you close and kiss your cheek. He watched you pull the big bills of cash out of your pocket, folded perfectly and all in the same direction and put it into his pocket instead. “We make a good team.”

“The best! You’ve gotta let me keep doing this, babe,” You pull your tote bag over your shoulder and loop your hands around his neck, stepping on the tiptoes of your boots. “They love me. And it’s so fun!”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “What kind of influence am I, huh? Getting you to enjoy this whole thing?”

“The worst ever,” You hum, smiling at his almost drunk expression as he looked at you. “I think my parents would have a conniption if they knew what I was out doing right now.”

“Oh, what will I ever do if your parents find out that I’ve corrupted their precious angel?” He laid the sarcasm on thick, reveling at the giggle you let out as he smushed a kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. He pulled back after, pecked a quick kiss to your lips, and tapped your hip with the hand that held his car keys. “C’mon. Let’s get home and pack a bowl with some of that mix you’ve been selling. I wanna see what it’s all about.”

“Really?”

He stepped back and opened the passenger side door for you. “Really really.”

“Yes!” You celebrated, grabbing his face and smacking a kiss to his lips before you leaned down into your seat. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[helyiios]

White button up

or, Benji’s really worried about his shirt.

Ethan was not panicking. He was not. He was perfectly fine, and he was running, because what’s the point of being Ethan fucking Hunt if you’re not, like, sprinting for your life on a regular basis, and he was perfectly relaxed.

[Hum,] Luther says in his ear, [we lost signal of B—]

“I KNOW !” he yells back, growing more and more upset, “I’m going towards his last known location. I still have amo, let’s just hope he’s still there.”

[Copy that.]

The worst part, he realises, is that he knows that Benji can handle getting roughed up a little. Wasn’t it the whole point of being an agent ? Getting your ass kicked on the regular ?

Doesn’t mean he likes to think about his friend in that position. He likes to think about him in many positions, but not this one.

He groans and keeps running, his gun kept by his side as he takes a sharp turn left, feeling the soles of his shoes screech on the pavement, and he almost loses his balance, and before he can start running again he hears some shouting at least two streets from where he was.

He picks up the pace, trotting towards the origin of the noise, and he does end up finding Benji—who was standing in front of a man, one hand raised defensively.

Technically, he should be jumping to his defence. Which is what he was just counting on doing, before catching the light glint of a sharp object held behind his friend’s back.

So instead, still hidden by a wall, he stands still and watches.

“I’m non-violent,” Benji nervously calls out to his attacker, hands still raised, “come on, there’s no need to resort to violence to solve this, is there ?”

“You and your friends blew up our headquarters and killed our boss,” the man seethes, visibly furious, “and you think you’re going to get out of it so easily ? Oh, I think the fuck not.”

“Well, technically I didn’t blow it up, it was my mate. If you really want to get specific, you’ll have to fight him. He doesn’t know how to, though…”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not fucking funny ! Stop talking and come closer so I can fuck you up.”

“But I don’t want to,” Benji whines, his right hand still holding the sharp tool, “c’mon, please ?”

The other man snorts, his fighting stance unmoving despite his raised eyebrow.

“Are you seriously negotiating I let you go ? Man, you are not a good agent, aren’t you ?”

“It’s not that,” he moans, visibly upset, “it’s just…”

He sighs, running his free hand through his hair.

“This is tailored Loro Piana, and I don’t want to get it dirty.”

From his hiding spot, Ethan has to slap a hand on his mouth to keep silent. Was Benji seriously worried about his clothes ?

“Shut up !” his assailant finally roars, running towards the agent at full speed, “be a man and FIGHT !”

With a sharp move Benji slashes the guy’s face, using the element of surprise of the concealed knife to slam his cheek as powerfully as he could, sending him stammering a few steps back. Quickly he gets back into position, and he aims for the neck, eyes and skull first, surprisingly ending up with cutting the tip of the man’s nose, and he can’t help but grimace out of disgust at this, pulling away to avoid getting punched.

His next move isn’t so lucky, because the man is suddenly tackling him, and his head hits the pavement so hard he thinks he passes out for half a second, but before he gets the chance to fight back, there’s a strong jab at his jaw, and he furiously spits out a mouthful of blood.

Thankfully his knife is still tightly held in his hand, and without thinking he shoves the blade inside the other’s left eye, twisting and straining, pushing the man off him as he leaves the weapon there, hopping back a few metres away.

He looks down at himself and at the red stained crisp shirt, and he groans.

“Really ?!” he protests, spreading his arms disbelievingly, “do you know how expensive this is ?! You guys have no respect for textile !”

His attacker is still halfway on the ground, trying to pull the knife out without screeching in pain, and Benji can’t help but stare, his upper lip raised in absolute disgust, his arms crossed. He’s still at a safe distance from him.

“I’m getting really tired of having to fight back idiots who think it’s okay to go after the little tech guy, because oh, of course he’s going to go easy on us ! Well guess what,” he spits out, genuinely upset, “some of us also like the thrill of the field ! If you wanted to vanilla fight with shitty punches, just ask Luther ! I love the man, but he’s shit at hand to hand combat, okay ?! And honestly, like, did you think I didn’t expect at least one person to run after me ?! Do I look stupid to you ?!”

“You’re…a fucking…lunatic,” the other man difficultly chokes out, unable to get back up, blood pouring of out of his face. “Who the fuck…are you ?”

“And like, it’s almost insulting they only sent one guy after me. Like what, I couldn’t take more people on ? I’m not Ethan, but I’m not that helpless ! And I especially brought my knife so I could switch the mood a bit and not get it done too quick with a head shot, do you realise how disappointing this is ?! And you ruined my favourite shirt !”

The man seems to give up on him, because as soon as the knife is out of his eye, he collapses on his back, breathing heavily. He tracks Benji’s movement as he watches him walk back towards him, crouching by his side. The agent inspects him throughly, patting him in search of the disk they’d been after. He finds it in his left pant pocket.

“Don’t mind me,” Benji pouts, taking it out and putting it in the inside pocket of his coat, “no bad feelings, nothing personal, mate. Huh, does it hurt ?” he then casually asks, chin resting on the palm of him hand.

“…what ?”

“The whole eye thing. Did it hurt ?”

The other man closes his eyes, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Like a bitch.”

“That’s interesting.”

Benji gets back up, dusting his pants a little uselessly, grabbing his knife again and putting it back in his place.

“Great doing business with you.”

“Go fuck…yourself.”

“Jesus. So rude.”

Ethan, who’d been somewhere in between mesmerised and horrified, finally steps out, waving awkwardly at his field technician, almost shy.

“Huh, not interrupting anything, I hope ?” he asks sort of lamely, “are you alright ?”

Benji almost jumps out of his skin, clearly not expecting him. He manages to swallow down his helpless and high pitched yelp.

“Huh—yeah,” he says instead, slicking his hair back, “I was just finished. Do you want to, like, put a bullet in him ? I don’t have my gun on me.”

Ethan shrugs.

“He’ll die soon enough,” he decides.

His friend hums, not caring enough to contradict him.

“I got the disk, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that. Congrats, Benj. And huh, sorry about your shirt.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he sighs, shaking his head. “How did you find me ? I lost comms with you at least twenty minutes ago.”

“I kind of, just ran around,” Ethan admits. “This city isn’t really big.”

“Is it weird that I’m really craving bolognese right now ?”

“Dunno if there’s the required ingredients at the safehouse, but I could come up with something.”

“That’d be lovely.”

“Well,” the older man smiles, holding out his hand, “let’s head back.”

Benji grins, taking it gratefully.

“Yeah, let’s.”

[defeateddetectives]

the whole thing about seiji with the unrequited pining for cats motif is so compelling for so many reasons because it's a metaphor for multiple dynamics in his life (to me!) but one that i've been thinking about more and more is how it could have been extrapolated to his early relationship with yokai as well

(yes it's a stretch but stay with me a moment!)

it's really interesting - and extraordinarily depressing :)))) - to think of what this relationship could have been outside of his identity as a matoba and the predetermined role of not just having to be any old exorcist but the head of the most feared and loathsome ones to yokai, not to mention the legacy of all the broken promises and the bloodshed that came with it.

in special ch 17, we see that little pot yokai and how he is so possessive and protective about it. i had to go back and doublecheck the text because some days i still feel like i made some of it up in my head.

he says, "if there was a yokai who'd make a contract with me, i'd be sure to treat it very well."

and i struggle to read it as sarcastic or facetious though maybe i did once. since natori is our pov character in this chapter and assumes seiji has ulterior motives about everything, it's extremely easy as the reader to buy into this as well. going back to it now, it reads as earnest. it reads like, even then, he knows it is a fantasy at best. there won't be respectable yokai who will voluntarily make contracts with him and, at this point, it's by no fault of his own.

and then: "it listens to what i say, a little bit." (he's making the effort) and "don't tell nanase about this." (it's his little secret.)

interestingly, this is the same chapter where natori makes a contract with urihime with relative ease even if its against urihime's initial wishes. for all the power and legacy that natori lacks in his corner, he still has this one ability and privilege that comes to him rather effortlessly. it stands out even more starkly in contrast with seiji's longing for what he can't have despite his best efforts and intentions.

tl;dr: if there was a cat that came home with him, i'm sure he'd also treat it very well :(

[beanghostprincess]

Something I adore when it comes to Sanuso is that their relationship canonically has a type of development we don't pay much attention to. We do talk about their remarkable scenes together but not the differences between them and the time they take place.

When they meet they do not get along. Like. At all. They start yelling at each other and arguing and honestly? It makes so much sense keeping in mind their personalities and differences. They just don't click.

Then Alabasta comes and Sanji returns Usopp his goggles. It's not a grand gesture, but it's intimate and nice and they are crewmates, after all, so of course he would do it. Sanji is just kind like that and he cares so much for each of them, so he gives. And I don't think Usopp is used to being taken care of like this, so he takes. Also, we already see them interact as friends, so we can say they are a family.

Now this is when the huge development starts taking place. Because even if their dynamic of constantly arguing and personalities clashing, Sanji sacrifices himself for Usopp (and Nami <3) when the fight against Enel happens. In fact, Sanji and Usopp spend all of Skypiea together, basically, and despite the comedic banter, Sanji seems to be keeping an eye on Usopp constantly. Worrying. And it's not only from Sanji's POV, because Usopp also keeps clinging onto Sanji and looking after him so he doesn't do anything stupid (like almost killing himself getting electrocuted, thank you).

So we've established not only a friendship, but a bond strong enough for Sanji to protect him in instinct. Although it's not like Sanji cares much about his own well-being for self-sacrifice to be considered a privilege, he would do it for anyone, but!! The way in which they show it on screen and portray their relationship and how Usopp is actively worried about him too makes it seem like they want you to focus on them.

We see a bit of them throughout the show but my favorite thing is how they go from not being able to stand each other to Sanji kicking their captain so he doesn't tell Usopp to leave the crew. He doesn't take any sides because the fight isn't his anyway and he is aware of what they need to do in the end, but Sanji also understands Usopp better than anybody else and his favoritism at this point is so damn obvious it hurts. He doesn't only hit Luffy but is obviously more affected than the rest of them by Usopp leaving. He stays with him during all of Enies Lobby and supports him constantly. He gives him what he needs, space, but being close enough to watch how he's doing. He offers him some type of alliance. It's not only "I'll do what you can't and you'll do what I can't" but "You trust me and I trust you". And we know he means it in a way for Usopp to trust in his abilities and to also trust the crew in general, but it feels so... Intimate that it's more of an "I get you. I understand" than anything else.

Then it becomes even more painful but horribly obvious how close they are, because Sanji loses Usopp during Sabaody and the scene is just so damn focused on them only (ft Brook at first. I love him). Sanji's desperation to protect Usopp and sacrifice himself for him and Usopp refusing to let him do it because he won't escape without him...

It's the little things that make their relationship so well-written. It's not only the constant parallels but also the subtle development they have. Their relationship goes through so much.

And then they barely have any scenes together post-timeskip but at least we got a picture of them stargazing together during the Marineford arc so that's something--

Although we can never forget how Usopp still trusts Sanji to protect him because during Punk Hazard he is always relieved when he sees Sanji's face (even though it's Nami) and because during Wano Usopp just assumes Sanji is going to be the one protecting him. So we might not have much of them now, but their development hasn't been for nothing.

[shion-yu]

Day 11: Passing out

Using @medwhumpmay to finally finish this full length Shu sickfic! 5,065 words. Written for my @badthingshappenbingo space “Working Through the Cold” and inspired by this prompt by @snzzenby641 “A horrid boss with an equally horrid cold being less than careful with their germs.” CW: Contagion, mild mess, sneezing, coughing, fever, stuffy talk, ft. Shu’s 14 y/o son.

The second Shu hears his boss sneezing, he knows he’s going to catch whatever it is that’s causing it. He’s never had a very good immune system to begin with, but it was when he was in college that his body seemed to have made the decision to no longer put up a fight against any cold that passed by him. This is a particularly bad thing for Shu because even though he has enough PTO to go on vacation for a month, his boss, Harrison, often denies even more reasonable time off requests.

Harrison is the type to work through a cold, and therefore he expects everybody else to as well. Shu’s not sure what one would have to do in order to be excused for a few days off without getting guilt tripped into coming back early - perhaps a catastrophic earthquake would do. As long as the office was still standing, probably not. Harrison lacks the trait of empathy, Shu thinks, but in a competitive market this is an advantage.

“WEI!” Shu already knows he's in trouble by the way Harrison is screaming his name. He's been trying to avoid being in close contact with his boss all morning in some attempt to avoid Harrison’s very contagious sounding sneezes, but once he enters the lion's den it’ll be all over for him. Shu sighs, straightens his tie out, and knocks on the door of Harrison's office before entering.

"Yes sir?" Shu says, standing up straight.

"Took your sweedt timb," Harrison says, his normally punctuated speech blunted with heavy congestion. He looks pretty bad, Shu thinks. His hair is messy, his eyes are watery and red rimmed, and Shu questions why someone so critical can't tell that he really ought to be in bed right now. Stubbornness, probably. "Your performance review,” Harrison says. “Sit.”

Ah, yes. The dreaded quarterly one-on-one where Harrison points out everything Shu needs to do better and nothing he’s done right. Shu reluctantly sits across from Harrison’s desk, trying not to fixate on the overflowing trash can of used tissues next to him. Harrison lets out several harsh, wet coughs that he only half-covers with his hand, then pushes a small packet of papers over towards Shu with the exact same hand. Shu winces but picks it up and begins reading aloud just how much he sucks at his job, just like Harrison likes it.

Harrison is smirking as usual as Shu reads. He’s definitely a sadist. Otherwise, why would he make them read these in front of him like it’s confession? However he also seems distracted today by the beast of a head cold he has, unable to go more than thirty seconds without sneezing, coughing, or both. He snorts up what sounds like a very thick noseful of mucus up and grunts, rubbing his temple. If he wasn’t such an ass, Shu would feel bad for him. Instead he just feels doomed.

Once Shu finishes reading his review, Harrison asks him the required follow up questions that he always does. “Would you agree with your review? Whadt can I do better as your boss?” Snort. “How would you rate yourself?”

The thing is, answering any of these questions with honesty is a surefire way to be working overtime for the next several weeks. So Shu just answers pleasantly, as he’s supposed to: “It sounds good. Nothing. I’d say I could improve in the areas you mentioned in my review.”

Harrison nods in approval. Believe it or not, Harrison actually likes Shu. He’s a hard worker, he doesn’t cause problems, and he never asks for raises. Shu is the quintessential office grunt as far as Harrison is concerned: quiet and obedient. The people who aren’t? Don’t last very long around here.

Shu, on the other hand, has lasted at this company for over ten years. He’s the longest working consultant for this marketing firm’s location and he even started before Harrison. Shu only has a bachelors, though, so he’s never been promoted to anything farther than senior marketing consultant. He doesn’t supervise, he doesn’t make big decisions, and he most certainly does not make waves.

That is, until he suddenly became a single father to an unruly twelve-year-old who needs Shu’s attention constantly. Shu took unexpected parental leave for four weeks when Alex came to live with him, much to the disdain of Harrison. And when he came back, Shu was different. Work was no longer the number one thing on his mind. These days, Shu answers his personal phone during work in case he has to leave when the school calls him because Alex has caused trouble again, which happens often. He gets sick way more frequently because he’s not used to kid germs and he’s always tired, leading to little mistakes in his paperwork that he always would have caught before. His black hair is quickly turning gray and for the first time in Shu’s life, he cares more about another person than his corporate job.

For Shu, this change is good. Raising Alex is tough, sure, but it’s rewarding and an experience he never would have had otherwise. He loves Alex and doesn’t mind that his relationship with work is changing.

Others don’t agree. Namely, Harrison.

So when Shu comes the following week sniffling and sneezing every few minutes just like Harrison was, all he gets in response is annoyance. In fact, Harrison seems to have complete amnesia about the part where he undoubtedly gave Shu this hell of a cold with his less than stellar public health habits and actually seems to be punishing Shu with more work. He tosses a large folder of paperwork on Shu’s desk and says, “I need this before you leave today.”

Shu has his nose buried in an over-used tissue, the rough ones that the office provides that were the cheapest money could buy. “Yes sir,” he mutters into it. His nose is chapped and bright red from blowing it into the sandpaper-quality tissues all morning.

Mathias comes up shortly after with a bottle of DayQuil and a look of abject pity. “You shouldn’t have even come in,” he says matter of factly.

“Too late,” Shu croaks. His voice is going already and speaking causes him to fall into a fit of harsh coughing. He doubles over, pushing his wheeled office chair backwards from the desk and coughing, and coughing. He’s not sure he can stop.

He feels Mathias’ hand on his back and a bottle of water is shoved into his grasp. “Drink,” Mathias orders.

Shu does. The cool liquid burns as it goes down his raw throat, but it’s also soothing and he finally manages to stop coughing. Mathias cringes just observing him - darker than usual circles under the eyes and greasy hair is not a good look for Shu. “Dude. Go home.”

Shu shakes his head, motioning to the stack of papers on his desk. “Can’t,” he rasps. “I’ll probably have to stay late finishing this stuff.” At least Alex is fourteen now and Shu trusts him enough to stay at home by himself for a few extra hours. When Alex had first come to live with him, nearly two years ago now, Shu had been terrified to leave him alone for even a second.

“Give me half, I’ll help,” Mathias says. He doesn’t wait for Shu to deny him - which he knows Shu will - and snatches the two top binder clips full of paperwork off Shu’s stack of many. Shu nods, unable to bring himself to fight back when he’s feeling this lousy.

By the end of the regular work day, Shu’s sure he won’t get out of here until at least seven, maybe eight PM. He’s working slower than usual thanks to how much his head aches and how many breaks he’s had to take to sneeze and cough himself into seeing black spots in front of him. His arms and even his fingers hurt, the hair on his own head prickling uncomfortably as if affected by static electricity. He’s also freezing and has resorted to swearing his jacket over his usual business attire, but he doesn’t think it’s done much to warm him up.

“You definitely have a fever,” Mathias tells him. “Harrison can find someone else to do this shit.”

“I’m already on thin ice,” Shu says weakly.

“So? He gave you this plague,” Mathias says. But Harrison is his boss too, and he knows just as well as Shu that that’s not how it works around here. He himself only stays at this job for the health insurance, and because he has twin baby girls and a wife at home to make a living for.

“Wei,” a sharp voice makes them both jump in their office chairs. Shu resists letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Yes sir?” Harrison is standing a few feet away from him, coat on and ready to go right on time as usual. What he has to rush off to, no one knows given the man’s perpetually single and lives alone.

“I still expect that paperwork on my desk by the time I come in tomorrow,” Harrison says. “And remember we have the board meeting tomorrow at nine, so don’t be late.”

Shu forgot about the board meeting. He also wants to throw up at the idea of presenting his numbers in front of his seniors when he feels like even standing up is a bad idea right now. He swallows and nods numbly.

Mathias attempts to defend him. “Sir, I don’t think Shu will be able to come in tomorrow, he’s sick as a dog,” he says. Shu feels a rush of emotion that Mathias still defends him like this, even though he’s younger and has no reason to stick his neck out for Shu when he also needs this job.

“I expect a hospital note if he’s that sick,” Harrison says sharply. He glares at both of his underlings who don’t respond again. Then he stalks out of the office to enjoy his night beginning on time without any kids to take care of at home.

Mathias shakes his head, muttering profanities under his breath. Shu just coughs, whispers, “Thank you,” and goes back to his work.

It turns out that thanks to various errors in the data, Shu stays in the office until past nine that night. Mathias leaves around seven, apologizing profusely but Shu brushes him off and says he’s done more than enough to help. Mathias has a family waiting for him at home and a wife who won’t be very happy if he’s any later than he already is. Then Shu’s left alone in the office space, which feels even colder at night and the only sounds to listen to are the clicks of his keyboard and his own miserable sniffling.

He calls Alex to let him know he won’t be able to come home until later, apologizing and telling him to order whatever he wants for delivery food. Alex seems annoyed and just says, “Fine,” before hanging up. Shu rubs his painful sinuses in exasperation and hopes Alex isn’t too angry.

Once he’s sure the numbers are to perfection, Shu finally slaps the pile of completed paperwork on Harrison’s desk and drags himself home. When he leaves the office building it’s dark. The cool night air hits his skin and makes him shiver, then cough. He stumbles a little in the doorway and presses his now burning face into the entryway, letting a self indulgent groan escape from his lips. He feels like shit, he has an angry teenager to go home to, and he has to be back here in less than ten hours to prepare for that board meeting. He lets himself think, ‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ for another thirty seconds before standing up, slapping his hot cheeks and shaking it off. It’s just a cold. His kid and work come first.

Shu drives home without incident, although by the time he pulls into the driveway the flow of undeterred snot has made its way all down his chin. He’s disgusting. He wipes his face with his suit jacket sleeve - which he immediately regrets because now he needs to get it dry cleaned before he can wear it again - and stumbles into the house.

The first stop he makes is Alex’s bedroom to make sure his son is fed and safe. He knocks and cracks the door, peaking in to see the teenager sprawled on his stomach in bed reading a book. Just a bit of the tension he’s held in his shoulders all afternoon dissipates.

“Sorry I’mb so late,” Shu says. His voice is barely there and it hurts to speak. He feels as if he’s gargled rocks. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, not looking up. Shu knows he’s mad about his being late.

“What’d you get?” Shu asks, leaning against the doorframe because his legs are starting to feel like jello and his head is spinning.

“Pizza,” Alex answers. “I left some for you.”

“Thanks bud,” Shu says. His face suddenly scrunches up and he lets out two very loud, very wet sneezes into his suit jacket sleeve, since it’s already a lost cause. “Excuse mbe.”

Alex does look up finally, a punctuated frown on his face. “You shouldn’t have stayed late if you’re already sick,” he points out accusingly.

“I know,” Shu sighs. But it’s not like he had any choice. Alex doesn’t quite understand that though - Shu never tells him about his job, or his boss, or how much Harrison’s grown to dislike him ever since Shu decided Alex was his priority over his desk job. The kid has enough things to worry about without being made to feel like a burden. “Im’b gonna stick to mby room, don’t want you to catch this alright? Do you need adnything though?”

“No,” Alex says. Shu takes this as his cue to leave the surly teen alone, but Alex adds when he’s halfway out the door, “You gonna stay home tomorrow?”

Shu shakes his head no, coughing meanwhile. “Meeting, but if I can come home early I will,” he says when he manages to catch his breath again. Alex doesn’t say anything else, but his mouth is set in a thin, disapproving line. “Goodnighdt,” Shu says, then shuffles off to his bedroom where he is finally able to let out the torrent of violent sneezes he’s been holding back since he got home. He feels dizzy with the release and blows his nose with blessedly softer tissues than the ones he was forced to use at the office, barely possessing the energy to get into sleep clothes before collapsing on bed.

He knows he should eat and probably take medicine, but he’s one hundred percent spent. He doesn’t think he can even get to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he just needs to sleep immediately. He passes out with the lights still on and his blankets clutched tightly around him, shivering.

What feels like ten minutes later, his six AM alarm goes off. Shu cannot fathom how this is possibly correct, but the clock on his bedside table states otherwise. The sharp tone of his alarm feels like it’s stabbing him in the head with every beep and Shu turns it off with a loud groan - which turns into a series of miserable coughs that sound even more congested than yesterday. He can feel all the nighttime mucus in the back of his throat crackling and breaking up as he coughs, which hurts like someone slapping rubber bands against his throat.

Still, Shu drags himself upright, throws on the first suit he can find that isn’t covered in snot, and half heartedly fixes himself up in the bathroom. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and cringes because he looks absolutely awful. His face is pale white and he needs a shave and a shower badly. The energy required to complete these tasks is nowhere to be found though, so he settles for splashing some sink water on his face and calls it good enough. When he blows his nose, it seems there is no end to the thick, greenish snot that comes out.

Alex isn’t awake yet, but the high school is three blocks away so he walks. Besides his suspensions, Alex has good attendance and Shu doesn’t worry about him skipping school. He’s a good kid, despite what some of the guidance counselors believe. Shu fixes Alex his lunch as always, although he forgoes preparing anything with his bare hands and just throws in an accumulation of pre-packaged goods and gives it a spritz of Clorox spray too. Alex rarely gets sick, but Shu doesn’t want to take any chances.

By seven Shu’s out the door, stumbling over his own feet to the garage and praying he makes it to work safely. He feels miserably sick, he can’t even pretend to deny it. But he also feels like he has no other choice but to show up after Harrison made such a point about coming to the meeting yesterday.

When he gets to his desk, Mathias is already at his and his expression leaves nothing to the imagination when he sees Shu. “Jesus Christ, get out of here,” he says.

Shu sneezes in response. “I’d love to,” he croaks. He practically collapses into his office chair, head spinning.

Mathias strides over to him and slaps a hand on Shu’s forehead, unfazed by the way Shu startles. It’s this behavior that made Shu first fall in love with the guy, Shu thinks hopelessly. It’s an unrequited, decade-long crush that will never, ever go anywhere. Shu was the best man at Mathias’ wedding for goodness sake. Best friends is good enough. “You’ve got a hell of a fever,” Mathias says disapprovingly. “Maybe you should go make a show of being a plague rat in Harrison’s office. He might kick you out.”

Shu forces a weak smile at him, closing his eyes and just letting himself enjoy the touch of a cool hand for a few indulgent seconds. Mathias lets go all too soon and hands him a bag of cough drops. “Thought you could use these, I brought them from home.”

“What would I do without you?” Shu murmurs tiredly. Mathias pats his shoulder and goes back to his desk. The cough drops are lemon and honey flavored, which are Shu’s favorite. There was a time several years ago, long before Mathias had a wife and kids, when he and Shu lived together. Mathias must have remembered from back then.

The first hour of the day is spent preparing for the board meeting, during which Shu becomes increasingly uncomfortable. He tugs at his tie and even unbuttons the top two bottoms of his shirt, something that’s unlike him. His coughing is impossible to ignore by anyone in the office, as are his wet sneezes that now come in twos and threes. Yesterday at least they were clearing his sinuses temporarily, but now they just hurt and yet do nothing to fix the blockage in his nose. He’s fully aware that he sounds dreadfully contagious and doesn’t blame anyone for avoiding his desk completely.

Ten minutes before nine, Harrison breezes by Shu’s desk and clears his throat loudly to get Shu’s attention. “Go to the bathroom and pull yourself together,” he orders. “Can’t have you looking like you’re going to die in front of the board.”

“Maybe we’d get a sympathy vote if I do,” Shu jokes weakly, but Harrison’s already across the room. For a short, fat man, he’s awful speedy when he wants to be. Shu pushes himself into a standing position, his arms quivering with effort against his desk. He feels terribly dizzy and keeps one hand on the wall as he finds his way to the bathroom. There he washes his face and tries to tell himself he can do this. He’ll present his brief, hopefully without too much trouble with his voice, and then he just has to wait for the rest of his colleagues to finish. By lunch, he’ll be able to go home and crawl into bed, Harrison be damned.

That’s the plan, anyways. But Shu’s plans rarely work out. The meeting has a lot of important people, including Harrison’s boss and the boss of Harrison’s boss. That’s Shu’s great-grandboss, right? He can’t help but giggle under his breath when he thinks of this ridiculous title. Mathias nudges his from under the desk, a concerned look on his face. ‘Hang in there,’ he mouths. Shu blinks himself back to reality where no jokes are allowed at the board meeting.

When it’s his turn, Shu’s stands up and tries not to sway as his vision blurs. “Ahem. Excuse mbe in advance… I’mb getting over a touch of a cold,” he prefaces, as if he’s not right in the trenches of battle with whatever this hell virus is. “This quarter our numbers have been… impacted greatly by…” He’s interrupted by two sneezes that make the world spin. He reaches for the tissues in his jacket pocket and tries to wipe away the mess without blowing the rest out, which is hard to resist when he can’t breathe through his nose and talk at the same time.

“Egsguse mbe,” he mutters. He knows his voice is cracking and between that and the congestion, he’s not entirely sure his colleagues can actually understand what he’s saying. Does anyone really care, though? Probably not. As he goes on, it gets harder and harder to maintain a natural flow of speech. He’s trying to breathe normally, but instead he feels like it sounds absurdly loud in his ears. Actually, everything is too loud, even though nobody except him is talking.

“Mr. Wei? Are you quite alright?”

Shu blinks hard, trying to focus on whoever just said that. He thinks is Harrison’s boss. Or grandboss, now he can’t remember. He catches Mathias staring at him worriedly and clears his throat. “Perfectly fine. Now… we’ve seen a marked increase in… um, sorry, an increase in sales for products that were… talked about… I mean advertised using our new model of… uh…” Suddenly he can’t remember what that model is. He invented the damn model.

“Mr. Wei.” The voice is more stern this time. Then increases to a shout: “Mr. Wei!”

Shu doesn’t know why the old guy is yelling, or why he suddenly feels like he’s suffocating on hot air. “Just…” He grits his teeth in annoyance. “Just give me a…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, because then suddenly everything goes dark and when he opens his eyes, everybody is yelling. So annoying, Shu thinks to himself. If only they’d just shut up. It’s just sales. It’s really not that exciting.

“Shu, hey pal. Are you with me?”

He recognizes that voice, the one closest to him now. His eyes flutter open and he realizes he’s lying on the floor on his back, Mathias above him with his expression full of concern. “There you are. You’re okay. Take a big breath for me.”

“Ugh… Matty, I don’t feel good,” Shu groans. “Think I’m gonna…” Someone shoves a bin under his chin just in time for him to vomit. There’s not much in his stomach, given he hasn’t eaten a meal since lunch yesterday, but the loud noises that come from his throat and stomach don’t sound so little. Shu whimpers, the board room spinning around him. What was he doing here again? He can’t remember. Was he at work?

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you taken care of,” Mathias soothes him.

Shu smiles despite himself, his head lolling to the side as if he has no control over it. “You’re always so nice to me,” he mumbles. “I think… my sugar feels low.” Shu doesn’t have diabetes, but he is prone to low blood sugar when he doesn’t eat. He remembers that time, almost eight years ago now, when he fainted at the office. He was sick then, but also had a markedly low blood sugar. Wait…

“Oh shit. Did I faint at the office?” Shu asks wearily, only now realizing he’s still in his work clothes. Now it’s coming back to him. The board meeting… Shu groans. “Oh god. Did I faint in front of everybody?” At least last time nobody had been looking at him when it happened. Especially not an entire room full of all of his bosses.

“Afraid so,” Mathias said. “But I just kicked them out and someone’s waiting for the ambulance. They’ll be here soon.”

“Kill me,” Shu said. He’d fainted and then puked in front of the entire board. That was it, his career was over. He had to quit. “I’m serious, shoot me now.”

Mathias shakes his head, shushing him. “Don’t be so dramatic, you’re probably just dehydrated. You feel like you’re a million degrees, you know that? I told you you should’ve gone home.”

“Yeah, you’re always right,” Shu mutters. He rests his head back down in Mathias’ lap where he’d woken up. “Ugh, my ambulance copay is like, three hundred bucks, too.”

Mathias smoothes Shu’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Now’s not the time to worry about that, okay?”

Shu closes his eyes. They feel hot and pulsing inside of his skull. “If I’m not out by three, will you make sure Alex is okay? I don’t wanna worry him while he’s at school.”

“Of course,” Mathias says.

The EMTs arrive a few minutes later, Harrison leading them to Shu’s spot on the floor. He’s shivering by then, Mathias’ suit jacket covering him not sufficient to ward off the chills from the fever he’s sporting. They load Shu onto a stretcher after taking his less than stellar vitals and Shu gazes blearily at the office as they walk through it to the elevators, because he’s sure he can never show his face in here again.

“I could probably just sleep it off at home, I don’t think I really need the hospital,” Shu tries to tell them, but they stick an IV in his hand and bring him anyway. There Shu gets Tylenol, a couple liters of fluids that apparently have some electrolytes and sugar, and a dose of IV solumedrol to work on his awful cough. They say it’s probably a viral infection but they’ll send him home on antibiotics anyways, just in case, plus oral steroids. Shu’s still waiting for discharge paperwork when Mathias calls with an update on Alex. He wants to know if Shu’s staying overnight because Alex keeps saying he’s going to leave to sleep at Ryo’s.

“They’re discharging me now, can you guys come get me?” Shu asks. If Alex wants to sleep at Ryo’s that’s fine - Shu knows it’s where he goes as soon as he feels overwhelmed, and Shu being this sick is sure to stress him out - but he’d like to see his son is okay with his own two eyes before then.

Mathias shows up half an hour later, by which time Shu’s dressed, IV removed and scripts in hand. “Alex is in the car,” he tells Shu. “He wants us to drop him off at Ryo’s on the way back.”

“That’s fine,” Shu says. He walks out of the ER on his own two feet this time, still feverish but feeling far better than he did this morning. Whatever “D5NS with KCL” is, he wishes he could keep some handy for all the times he’s feeling weak because he’s pretty sure that’s what helped the most. As they approach the car, Shu can see Alex in the backseat. He’s listening to music with earbuds in, but he pulls one out when Mathias helps Shu into the passenger seat.

“Hey buddy,” Shu says. His voice is still pretty rough sounding, but not talking for most of the hours in the ER helped. “You okay?”

Alex snorts, shaking his head. “I’m not the one who passed out at work.”

“Touché,” Shu says. He’s not sure that’s how the word is supposed to be used, but he’s too tired to care right now. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Alex says quickly, but Shu knows he’s lying. Not that he plans on pointing that out, but he’s aware that Alex cares about everything far more than he likes to pretend. School, Ryo, the fact that Shu still makes him go to therapy once a month even though he says his parents’ death doesn’t bother him anymore. It’s just another reason why Shu feels so fiercely that he has to protect him now.

Alex clears his throat uncomfortably. “Can I sleep at Ryo’s? His dad said it’s fine.”

“Yeah. That’s fine,” Shu says. He’s not sure he would’ve had the energy to argue if for some reason it hadn’t been fine. Thank god for Ryo’s parents and their constant willingness to have Alex over since the beginning. Thank god for Ryo and his calming presence he always seems to have over Alex, despite being the most hyperactive teenage boy Shu’s ever met.

Alex directs Mathias to Ryo’s house and hops out, his backpack for school tomorrow over his shoulder. Alex doesn't look at him, just mutters an uncomfortable, “Feel better,” before disappearing into Ryo’s house. Shu sighs in relief. As long as he knows Alex is fine, he’d rather the kid not be there stressing about him anyways. Mathias brings him home and takes him inside, setting him up in bed with tea, tissues, meds and anything else he could possibly need within reach.

“Thanks Matty,” Shu says tiredly. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I don't either,” Mathias says, eyeing Shu worriedly. “You sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll make it,” Shu says. “Don't worry. I’ll be back at work soon.”

Mathias rolls his eyes. “Not too soon,” he says strictly. “Get some rest.” Then he leaves Shu to his own devices and Shu relaxes, finally in his own bed - where he should've stayed this morning. Oh well. He can't believe how humiliating he is - to pass out at work twice in the span of a few years - but hey, at least no one's going to accuse him of faking. Harrison will guiltily go easy on him for a week, at least. Thank goodness he made it home.

[carlyraejepsans]

for real WHERE does the idea that [utdr humans] are nongendered so that "you can project on them" come from. their literal character arcs are about NOT being a blank slate to be filled in by the audience

i think i understand the assumption on some level for undertale, because there is a very intentional effort to make you identify with the "player character" in order to make your choices feel like your own (the beating heart of undertale's metanarrative lies in giving you an alternative path to violence against its enemies after all, and whether you're still willing to persue it for your own selfish reasons. YOUR agency is crucial).

of course, the cardinal plot twist of the main ending sweeps the rug from under your feet on that in every way, and frisk's individuality becomes, in turn, a tool to further UT's OTHER main theme: completionism as a form of diegetic violence within the story. replaying the game would steal frisk's life and happy ending from them for our own perverse sentimentality, emotionally forcing our hand away from the reset button.

i think their neutrality absolutely aids in that immersion. but also, there's this weird attitude by (mostly) cis fans where it being functional within the story makes it... somehow "editable" and "up to the player" as well? which is gross and shows their ass on how they approach gender neutrality in general lol.

but also like. there's plenty of neutral, non PCharacters in undertale and deltarune. even when undertale was just an earthbound fangame and the player immersion metanarrative was completely absent, toby still described frisk as a "young, androgynous person". sometimes characters are just neutral by design. it's not that hard to understand lol.

anyone who makes this argument for kris deltarune is braindead. nothing else to say about it.