#I want to shake the hand of that genius who thought that using more water to create the memory/transparency effect was a nice idea

[deafeningwizardsquare]

Goblet of Fire Au challenge: Ice.

@slytherincursebreaker invited me and this came out!

My MC made already an appearance in my drawings and only for the sake of the Orion x Skye. Since then, I changed her design a lot + added a minimum of backstory, that consist in her hiding a niffier in the dormitory (for reasons that will be revealed, maybe) & her begin bestie with Tulip and Skye. And begin good at Quidditch, transfiguration and history of magic but failing other classes XD. With the special partecipation of a lot of unrequited crushes aka Chester, Orion, Bill & Felix, aka pt,2 the charm of having more than a braincell. Canonically (for my canon ofc) she's Ben partner.

She's Natalie Morgan, who can clearly cast incendio very well. Especially after a devastating duel with Mr Gelato.

Since Snell grew up in a drawer (rules about animals in the dormitory that Jam City ignores ecc…) he's quite attached to her, overall hiding in her bag just to take her wand (it has some parts in metal) and almost letting her failing the prove may damage their relationship. 😂😂😂

The time at the end didn't run out, I write this 'cause my inking is confusing.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

[luveline]

I love Bombshell reader x Spencer so much !! But I wanna take it back to wayyy early days and see how they’d interact in season 1 or 2? Or maybe even how the Lila Archer situation would play out if she was around? Much love to you and you’re page and I understand if you don’t want to write this ask :)

tysm ♡ fem

Hotch, for the record, liked you for the open BAU position more than Elle. It's Gideon who's not fond of you. Your flirtatious attitude isn't conducive to teamwork, or something, as though you aren't a professional. Gideon just doesn't like sharing his genius protégé with you.

"I don't have to tell you to be on best behaviour?" Hotch asks.

"No!" you say, really, really meaning it. "When Greenaway gives up, I'll be waiting. Until then, I'm your faithful servant, I won't do anything to disrupt you." 

You're not sure that Hotch totally believes you, but he ushers you off with a street cop to meet Reid and Morgan at the set of your stalkee's upcoming production. You're wide-eyed but eager —seeing the boys again never fails to make you happy, even if the setting is completely unfamiliar to you. 

"Morgan!" you call lightly. He's easily recognisable, and he's been hitting the gym, a wall of tight muscle in his charcoal suit. "Hey!" 

Morgan grins at you but raises a finger to his lips. You accept his pat on the shoulder and follow his line of sight. Spencer stands with a coke bottle in hand, talking to your stalkee, the gorgeous and illustrious Lila Archer. She's the new belle of Hollywood, and she's smiling at Spencer like he has a real chance. He should have a real chance. You know he's a priceless sweetheart, you just didn't realise other people could tell. 

"What's he doing?" you ask, laying your shock on thick to hide the real insecurity. He doesn't even know you're here but he's breaking your heart. "I thought he had a little more loyalty." 

"You don't mind sharing with me, do you?" Lila asks, taking Spencer's coke for a quick swig.

"No," he says immediately. 

She passes him back his drink and unrobes, exposing the long, perfect lengths of her arms and legs before she walks a circle around him. He has stars in his eyes.

Morgan waits for her to take her place in the sand, swinging his arms over the desk. "Are you sharing with us, too?" 

"Shut up," Spencer says, stopping short when he notices you at Morgan's heel. "Y/N. What are you– when did you get here?" 

"I couldn't let you guys have all the fun." You cover Morgan's arm with a perfectly kept hand. "Hotch asked me to come. Didn't even have to beg! And now I get to spend time with my two favourite heavyweights." 

"Funny," Spencer says. 

"He's defensive today," Morgan assures you, his smile smug and catching. 

You test the waters. "Not too defensive, I hope," you say, opening your arms. 

Spencer tucks his coke bottle against his chest and hugs you obligingly. He's warm and he smells like coffee grounds, his hand wide as he pats your back. 

"It's nice to see you," you say. Then, with less good intent, "I missed you, Dr. Reid. Did you miss me?" 

"Don't," he says. 

"I'm serious." You pull away from him, checking over his face. "You've been taking care of yourself, I can see. Where are your glasses?" 

"I got contacts." 

"And you look so good," you croon, rubbing your hand briefly down the front of his chest. You'll miss the glasses dearly. 

Spencer laughs and grabs your wrist. You have to be careful with Spencer, because the very last thing you want to do is give him attention he doesn't want; the point of your affections isn't to make him uncomfortable, the opposite. He needs confidence. "You have the bone structure of a male model," you continue. 

He rolls his eyes and moves you bodily out of the way by the hips, wandering off to who knows where. Morgan gives you a knowing look as he leaves, shaking his head at your flustering. 

"What?" you mutter, pretending to watch the goings on of the director rather than meet his eyes, "I'm not made of stone." 

[mickeyswhore]

Runaway

Request: hello! ive been having MAJOR house of wax/vincent brainrot....im wondering if you can do a vincent sinclair small fic? or something like that, im not used to fic terms,,,,,, it can be anything you want to write abt :3

A/N: Vincent Sinclair is so pookie, having brainrot about him is so valid and I totally get you, I hope you like it, let me know. 🫶

Summary: After suffering a mental breakdown, you decide to go on a road trip. You stumble upon a small town called Ambrose, and things escalate from there.

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: just your run of the mill murder mentions, nothing much and dark undertones, this was low key fluffly.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

After you had a mental breakdown for being too overworked, you decided to go on a road trip so you can relax and just see new places. You avoided the highways because driving on those was extremely depressing so you were in country roads, now you were in Louisiana. It was hot and you were so thankful for your A/C being so powerful.

You decided to stop in a small town that you stumbled upon, it was around 1:00 PM and it was time to get more snacks and water, you parked your car in front of the small shop and you left the car. When you tried to enter the shop, it was locked. You found it odd since it was 24 hours, but you decided to wait to open again, you were in no rush so you decided to wait in your car.

Losing track of time playing games on your phone, you heard someone knocking at your window, you yelled and put your hand on your chest. You looked and you saw a man in a suit, you smiled tightly at him and left the car to be able to talk to him.

“You alright, sugar?” Bo thought it was extremely odd that not even Lester was able to see where you were coming from.

“Yeah, just passing by. I needed to buy some snacks for the journey, but it seems to be closed.” You pointed at the shop and Bo smiled at you.

“I think the owner had to leave for a few hours, you’re than welcomed to wait. But you shouldn’t in the car, come on I’ll walk you around the city, we have a wax museum that’s really cool. I’m Bo, by the way.” He raised his hand for you to shake and you did, you also introduced yourself.

The two of you walked towards the museum, and Bo kept asking questions such as why you were travelling, where you were heading and why you were by yourself. You didn't like the fact that he was almost interrogating you but you tried to keep your answers to a minimum. You weren’t to divulge the state of your mental health for this trip to be possible, you didn't resent Bo, you simply blamed it on southern hospitality so you remained pleasant and polite.

“Here we are, I have the keys to it so I can show you around.” Bo opened the door and allowed you to enter before him and he started telling the story about the museum. “Trudy was the woman that started it all, she had great talent we try to keep her legacy alive.” You looked at the the wax figures and they’re amazing, you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“It’s beautiful, who’s the current artist?” You asked whilst still looking at the statues, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life before.

“His name is Vincent.” Bo informed you, he was watching you admiring Vincent’s work with genuine wonder and that made him smile.

“I’d love to meet him.” That was the only outcome for you, meeting the genius behind these sculptures, you felt a connection with him even though you have no idea who he is.

“He’s, well how do you say it? A recluse?” Bo explained to you and the way you deflated made his heart clench, why was he so affected by your sadness? He already looked at you with this sense of protection, he didn't want to kill you, it was strange.

“That’s a pity, it would be great to meet him.” You looked so sad, and Bo couldn’t have that. Vincent would kill him but if it was a bad idea Vincent was going to kill you anyway.

“Well, he lives down here. You can try to talk to him, can’t make any promises though.” Bo showed you the way and so you did, it was dark and you could tell that candles were lit.

Vincent was freaking out, why would Bo do this? Vincent didn't want to kill you at all, and you seemed very interested in his art. Ever since you and Bo entered the museum, Vincent was admiring you and he wanted to make you his muse.

“Hello? Vincent? I was looking at your art and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to meet you if you want.” The hope in your voice was the most amazing thing for Vincent, you were so respectful and you loved his art Vincent’s heart was skipping a beat, he wanted to get to know you but you would scream and run away as soon as you saw him. “I hope you can hear me, your art is amazing.” Vincent took a deep breath and showed in your field of vision and he couldn’t even look up to your face of disgust.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you, Bo said that you were more of an introvert so it’s an honour.” You got close to him and raised your hand to shake Vincent’s, he reluctantly raised his and looked at you and you had the biggest smile Vincent has ever seen. He didn't say anything and you assumed that he was a man of few words. “Well, I think that I should leave you be. You’re probably very busy and I didn't mean to intrude, so I should get going.” Vincent started panicking, he didn't want you to leave.

Vincent grabbed your arm and guided you to one of his almost finished figure, you were admiring Vincent’s work and he was admiring you, your eyes, your cheeks, your complexion. He didn't want you to leave, and he didn't want you to die, he needed you.

“That’s amazing, Vincent. Thank you for showing me this.” You put your hand in his arm and smiled at him warmly, you couldn’t deny that his shy nature drew you in. You wanted to learn more about him, maybe you could stay a bit longer in this town. Vincent nodded and in a bold move, he put his hand on top of yours. “I hope that you can say yes, but totally alright if you don’t…would you like to go out for a cup of coffee with me?” You internally cringed with how awkward you were but Vincent couldn’t help but love it. He nodded and he was glad he did, because he was able to see the biggest smile he has ever seen.

“Great, well I better find a hotel. Do you know any?” Vincent nodded his head, he would need Bo’s help to keep you here. He doesn’t want you to leave.

You’re his, his muse, forever.

Bo already got your car broken when he didn't hear any screams he realised that Vincent didn't want you to leave, at all. Meanwhile, you and Vincent were spending this time contemplating art and talking about it, you were so excited where this was taking you, and Vincent already knew that you weren’t leaving at all.

[ddarker-dreams]

Entropy.

Yan Cyno x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 2.6k.

You used to never hear his footsteps coming.

This is a detail you once pointed out to him — more in jest than anything — which earned you an unexpectedly pensive look. No matter how light you intended your words to be, he weighed them as if each syllable were law. It had always been that way, for as long as you could remember. Back in your Akademiya days, if you made a little suggestion to Cyno’s work, he’d rewrite the entire paper to accommodate your idea better. If you wondered about a strategy’s viability in Genius Invokation TCG, he’d stay up for nights on end to test and record the data for later presentation. He was always so eager to please you. What he struggled to express in words, he’d make up for in his actions; accommodating and bending to your will if it meant you might look his way.

A few days after you joked about how quiet he moves around, he solemnly promised ‘to remedy the issue’. And sure enough, he did. He started to announce when he arrived home or would make some other noise so that he didn’t sneak up on you. You didn’t give it much thought then. Certainly, it was nice that you no longer got startled or had to worry he’d been silently watching you do something embarrassing, but it didn’t particularly stand out more than that.

Until now, that is.

You’d been alternating between chopping vegetables and plopping them into boiling water, humming to yourself while you did so. The scent of spices and herbs picked fresh from the market hours prior permeated the evening air. As always, the table was set for two. You always ensure to have a hot dinner waiting for him whenever he returns home.

Nothing seemed particularly out of place. There was no sudden draft, no creak from the front door whose hinges desperately needed oiling. You carried out your meal prep routine in the same humdrum manner as always.

Then there were arms ensnaring you.

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt sensation. In an instant, your body prepares itself to fight back before your mind can intervene. You twist your torso around, leading with the knife still in your hand, adrenaline shooting through your veins like a geyser. The blade never connects with its intended target, for a singular hand holds it unwaveringly still midair, overpowering you easily. It’s then that you finally register just who the unknown assailant is.

“Archons above, Cyno,” you lace your tone with exasperation, “You almost gave me a heart attack. What if I had…”

You shake your head, not wanting to consider it for even a moment.

He calmly plucks the knife from your grasp and sets it aside, taking the time to straighten it while you steady your breathing. He never liked anything to be crooked, utensils weren’t an exception. What immediately strikes you is how void of expression he seems. Some may claim that the General Mahamatra is incapable of emoting, but after knowing him for so long, you had caught onto his many tells. He stands up perfectly straight when he’s looking for an opportunity to insert his joke into a conversation. He sighs quietly to himself when he’s content. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles whenever he sees you.

These various nuances you’ve spent years accumulating suddenly feel useless, like a once bountiful fruit tree that has dried and withered away.

You almost doubt if the man staring back at you is Cyno.

“I found your brother.”

There are no inquiries about your day, rushing over to lend assistance with the meal, or kisses stolen whenever he sees an opening. He delivers the grim news without tact or any other reassurance such a statement necessitates. You swallow thickly, shrinking yourself into the counter behind you. He’s scrutinizing you just as much as you are him. Your homeostasis is thrown off, somehow causing you to both shiver and sweat. The blood-orange eyes that stare back at you are reminiscent of the scalding sun in the desert. Unrelenting, pouring down heat without favor toward anyone or anything.

“... I see,” is your careful response. You grip the counter for leverage until your knuckles ache. “Does that mean the investigation into him is concluded?”

“Far from it.”

You think you can afford to look downcast upon receiving heavy news like this, so you do. That begs the question of what intonation to use next. He’s obviously waiting for you to speak up and say something more on the topic — hence his silence — yet having the spotlight thrust on you so abruptly leaves you feeling unprepared. Do you sound remorseful? Apologize for your brother’s grievances? Or do you sound satisfied, content that the arduous search has come to an end?

You decide to try a combination of both.

“I appreciate all your hard work in tracking him down,” the melancholy in your smile is genuine. You transition to something more sheepish, avoiding his burning gaze by looking to the side. “I know it hasn’t been easy. I suppose he’ll be brought to justice.”

“Everyone always is,” Cyno confirms. The corners of your mouth twitch. “He inquired after you.”

“Oh?”

“Normally, I don’t make a habit of talking to fugitives, since they’re always trying to worm their way out of due punishment. I made an exception in his case. I told him that I’ve been taking care of you in his stead; that you don’t want for anything. He seemed relieved. He must’ve assumed his assets would be seized once his academic infringements came to light… and still, knowing this, he chose to put your livelihood at risk.”

This is a safe conversation topic for you to lean into. Cyno always contended himself on the fact he solely provides for you.

“We’ve both caused you a lot of trouble.”

Normally, when you say something in this vein, Cyno rushes to reassure you that you’re no trouble at all. That he would give you the clothes off his back if you requested it. Presently, he does no such thing. You finally pick up on a telltale sign woven into his otherwise unreadable body language — how he’s struggling not to clench his jaw. Subdued frustration. While you’re used to playing an actor who must improvise their lines, Cyno must still be adjusting to the role. How unfortunate that you know he’s a fast learner.

You focus on the sound of boiling water threatening to overflow by your side. Neither of you moves to adjust the heat so that it won’t, too absorbed in what the other will or won’t do next.

“You said that it’s been hard work for me to track him down,” Cyno starts, reaching his thumb and pointer finger out to tilt your chin upward. You fight back the urge to flinch. “I agree, although, it shouldn’t have been. Not if he didn’t have help.”

He knows.

“... Not if he didn’t have you.”

The world is falling apart and you don’t know if anything can force the jagged pieces back together.

When it came to interrogation, few were better than Cyno. He understood it on an intrinsic level. When to apply pressure, when to offer a false sense of security, what words and actions it takes to utterly break a person. You thought knowing this in advance might offer you some sort of advantage. Never have you had an assumption proven so painfully wrong.

“What?” You demand, your eyebrows furrowing together. You are a virtuoso at playing the tune of ignorance. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

It’s a solid performance. Most innocent parties are rightfully outraged when faced with serious accusations they had nothing to do with. Their righteous anger is different from the guilt-ridden outbursts of their guilty counterparts, Cyno would tell you. In the same way an expert artist could differentiate between two shades that appear alike to any other unskilled eye, Cyno noticed all the minute details. This was what he did best. This was his life’s calling.

He runs the coarse pad of his thumb over your trembling lower lip, his eyes lidded. Then, he whispers, “You are a good liar, aren’t you?”

“I—”

Cyno shushes you and you’re compelled to listen.

“I’ve tracked down individuals with networks spanning across all of Teyvat in less time than it took for me to find your brother, who has no resources,” Cyno’s words are accompanied by electricity thrumming in the air — a warning that the time to be judged is nigh. “I couldn’t understand. It was as if he knew my movements in advance and planned accordingly.”

His grip on you tightens. “I lost sight of my objectivity. You… make me lose sight of objectivity. Still, that didn’t explain how exactly you were getting the information. I ruminated on this for some time. After all, what would my suspicions matter if I didn’t have anything definitive to work with? Then you asked me that favorite question of yours. ‘What time can I expect to have you home for dinner’, was it?”

You had been playing with something infinitely more dangerous than fire.

“You have enough knowledge of Sumeru’s geography to guess where I’d be going with the tiniest information,” Cyno narrows his eyes, “Isn’t that right, [First]?”

His exposed chest heaves, each breath coming out heavier than the last. The feverish skin that touches yours tingles in rhythm with the thrumming of his Vision. You wonder if any god would take pity and bestow their favor upon you. It’s a silly thought to entertain, for you know that even if they did, his strength far surpasses yours. There’s always the option of arguing your case. Combing through his words for inconsistencies you’d never find, prolonging an admission of guilt to the charges being presented. That would only add fuel to the raging hot fire.

“They were going to lock him up for life, Cyno,” your throat is tight and it all feels like too much. “I-I know that what he did was wrong, and— there are no good excuses to justify it. He told me as much before he fled. He said… he said that they’d been denying him funds for years. His research had been his dream since he was a kid. When I heard that, I just… I wanted to protect him.”

From you.

Tears gather upon your bottom eyelashes like dew on blades of grass at daybreak.

“The scales that your justice relies upon, how can you know they aren’t imbalanced? What good will throwing someone into a prison cell until they rot do? That’s no recompense for a crime committed, it’s punishment for punishment’s sake!”

Cyno allows you to finish your rambling without interruption. From what you understood, when the General Mahamatra found one that ‘must be brought to justice’, they’d immediately be whisked away. He never extended the process more than necessary and was almost considered fair for this facet of his. As a man so entirely defined by his ideals, you assume you’ll receive no different treatment. Obstructing an ongoing investigation and aiding a known fugitive were both sentences that’d be wrapped around your neck like a noose.

You decided that if the day ever came when he discovered your damning secret, you’d go down with some dignity intact. This was something you made peace with when you struggled to sleep beside someone you were actively deceiving. So you brace yourself for the absolute worst. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for whatever he might say while he arrests you, the inevitable tug on your wrist that’d come as he drags you off to whatever clammy holding cell awaits.

“Did you ever truly love me, or was it all a ploy?”

His voice is so quiet, you almost thought you imagined it.

This was the last thing you expected to be confronted with following such a severe revelation. The ache in his usually self-assured voice, the utter rawness that threatens to rip your soul asunder; accumulates and weighs you down. You force yourself to reopen your eyes. To own up to your mistakes, no matter how little it’d do to mend the gaping chasm that’s formed between you.

The scathing intensity in his eyes has long cooled off. What it leaves behind is far more delicate than glass.

“I’ve always loved you dearly, nothing changes that,” you reply in truth. As a friend and someone you could always rely on. You hope to leave this part unspoken, but by how close he is, you doubt he’ll leave it at that.

“Romantically?” He probes further.

You inhale sharply through your nose. “Cyno—”

“If you’re going to lie or avoid the question, do us both a favor and remain silent.”

At this, you obediently purse your lips.  

He relaxes his grip on you, his arms falling to his side, though you know better than to think that means you can walk away. Anxiety swarms inside your gut and clouds your other senses. The fear of what comes next always triumphs over the fear of the present. It’s this thought that urges you to risk speaking up again, though your better judgment advises against it.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

The question seemingly pains him almost as it does you. He’s normally so certain of himself, ready to respond at a moment’s notice. His convictions were a firm foundation that he built himself up from. It never mattered to him who one was, or their reasons for doing what they did, so long as they breached the Akademiya’s rules, they would be hunted down by him without reprieve.

That’s why you can hardly believe what he says next.

“No.”

“Then what,” you lick your lips, almost not wanting to finish the dreadful question, “Are you going to do with me?”

“That has yet to be determined.”

You gape at him, incredulous. His usual calm and calculating ways have returned. He’s regained control over his voice and body, betraying nothing that you can work with. Cyno finally breaks his attention away from you, taking the overflowing pot of water off the heat source, then grabbing the knife from earlier to finish chopping the vegetables. Your heart beats faster with each thump of the knife against the cutting board. His side profile is decidedly neutral, his eyes barely flickering to you like this was just any other regular evening. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and the more primal part of your brain urges you to do something, anything. 

Subconsciously, you take a step toward the door, holding your breath while you do so.

“Don’t bother,” Cyno’s tone is flat and unimpressed. “No matter where you hide, or how far you run, if you take one step out of this house, I will track you down.”

You thought your resolve was firm — that you’d be prepared for anything, if it meant helping your family — but this is something you never dreamed of.

“There’s no need to look at me like that. I won’t hurt you or let any harm befall you. After all, you said it yourself. If it’s no good to ‘throw someone in a cell until they rot’, then surely, there must be a better alternative. I’m interested in seeing this novelty myself. So, [First], what recompense do you suggest for a broken heart? In my opinion, there is only one fair trade that exists for such a steep debt.”

He tilts his head, daring you to challenge him in any way. When you don’t, he continues, and oh, how you wish he didn’t.

“And that is for you to finally give me yours.”

[starrystormwritings]

Kiss With a Fist

Kiss With a Fist

Master List <3 Request List <3 Marauders Master List

Sirius Black x Reader

A/n: I know I promised a Taylor Swift song fic for Sirius but I couldn't pick a song so instead this (especially the start) is inspired by Kiss With a Fist by Florence and the Machine instead even though the lyrics aren't actually used, just wanted to actually post something tbh.

Summary: You've always hated Sirius Black, so being stuck in detention with him is the worst possible scenario.

Warnings: Badly written arguments, swearing, drinking, weed, no smut but making out, once again bad writing lol, female pronouns but undescribed Hogwarts house.

Word Count: 2787

(NOT MT GIF)

"I can't believe you right now." I said with a huff, wiping down the walls of the potion classroom that were stained pink because of none other than the dark haired boy who was scrubbing the floor next to me.

"Oh pipe down L/n I saw you laughing." He chuckled to himself confidently causing me to flick some water from my hand onto him.

The self proclaimed genius had unfortunately been partnered with me for our potions assignment this afternoon and as easy as a wiggenweld potion normally is to brew Sirius thought it was be funny too add a handful of stolen ingredients to the cauldron whilst my back was turned. Resulting in a large explosion of a pink foam that now stained half of the classroom.

Of course Slughorn didn't believe I had nothing to do with it, but luckily enough he thought one detention of cleaning up the mess the muggle way would be enough punishment.

"I did not laugh, I should be in the library right now but instead I'm stuck in here with you cleaning a mess I didn't even cause!" I scrubbed the walls harder with frustration as I spoke, his cockiness was getting to me.

"Merlin it's not that big of a deal! It was funny!" He rolled his eyes at me as I gave him a look of disbelief.

Of course he still managed to look effortless whilst cleaning floors, his long hair had been scraped back into a bun, bits of hair falling out to frame his face and neck, occasionally dropping in front of his eyes. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and both of our robes and ties had been thrown over a chair to keep them out of the way.

The cocky smile finally dropped from his face as he threw the sponge onto the floor in frustration "These stains are never going to come out without magic, nothings happening! How have you gotten rid of so much of it already?"

I scoffed at him for what felt like the hundredth time that day before stepping down from the step ladder I was on to work on a bit of the wall lower down.

"You have to actually put it a bit of effort, actually scrub it rather than doing a half assed job, like always." Sirius had always irked me since we started at Hogwarts, his careless attitude and lack of effort always bugged me. He could so easily be top of our classes if he tried but instead he just goofed off whilst some of us have to put in actual effort.

"Hey what's your problem with me, your good enough friends with Remus and Peter why do you seem to hate me so much?"

I could hear that he had stood up but instead of turning around to face him I just continued to clean the wall.

"Probably because you're a posh prat who doesn't care about his actions and how they affect other people."

He just laughed at me which pissed me off more, causing me to grip the sponge in my hand so hard the bubbles started running down my arm rather than the wall.

"What's so funny?" I asked whilst spinning around to face him, his slouched posture and casual lean against the table behind him causing me to clench my jaw.

"You. I'm sorry we can't all be perfect like you but at least I've got some personality."

It was my turn to laugh now as I crossed my arms, shaking my head at him.

"Oh I have no personality? Because the bad boy with a dark mysterious past that he hides behind jokes and his hair is so original?"

"You don't know anything about my dark mysterious past. At least I'm willing to have fun rather than just hiding in the library all day, there's a reason only one of us has friends." He dropped his rag on the floor, obviously having enough of cleaning now and just enjoying annoying me.

"You don't have friends, you have James and a group of adoring fans who wouldn't like you if they didn't find you hot. And not all of us have the luxury of having fun, I can't get through my exams with a charming smile unlike some people."

"Aw, you think my smiles charming." He sat up now, his height made him tower over me which just seemed to piss me off more.

"No I think you're a spoiled git who's had everything handed to him in life and refuses to see that the world doesn't revolve around him. I'd rather jump off the astronomy tower than spend another second with you and I can't wait for the day when you find out that flashing a smile won't get you out of everything!"

I didn't even realise I'd been marching towards him till my finger jabbed directly into his chest.

He scowled down at me, gripping my wrist with his hand to take it off him.

"And I think that you're a stuck up princess who needs to realise that until you get that stick out of your ass you're going to be miserable for the rest of your life!"

I looked up at him angrily, my hands were shaking with how furious I was and my skin felt like it was burning from where his hand was still holding my wrist.

He mirrored the look on my face before glancing down at my lips for a brief second, before I could comprehend what was happening he lent down and pushed his lips to mine.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, or loving in the slightest. It was harsh and spiteful, his teeth clashed against mine as his hand came up to hold my jaw, backing me up against the bit of wall I had just cleaned.

I dropped the sponge I was holding and let my hand grip onto his hair, covering it in the bubbles that were still running down my arm.

I scrambled to pull him closer to me by his neck as his hand let go of my wrist and instead moved to the bottom of my skirt as he let in to deepen the kiss.

"Sirius? You in the mate?" The familiar voice of James Potter called from the doorway of the room, luckily out of view from where we were.

We both jumped away from each other, turning around to make it look like I was heavily interested in the cleaning again.

I quickly yanked my skirt back down as Sirius attempted to fix his hair and straighten his shirt before the Potter boy had turned the corner.

"Yeah Slughorn has us on clean up duty." He says whilst clearing his throat and chuckling a little.

"Yeah Mary told us what you did thought we'd come give you guys a hand so you might still make it to dinner." Remus said as he approached as well, picking up a rag from the table and heading over to help me.

~~~

I stared at the little piece of parchment in my hand, biting the inside of my cheek as I thought out my options.

Me and Sirius hadn't spoken since the afternoon in potions, luckily with the help of James, Remus and Peter we had finished up in less than an hour and I quickly rushed out and had been avoiding the marauders like the plague since.

Remus had just caught me in the library and handed me the invite that I was now inspecting.

'The marauders invite you to the party of the century (bring your own Fire Whiskey or Witches Brew)'

The piece of parchment was enchanted to have little moving images of fireworks and music notes dancing around the page and the Gryffindoor common room password was printed small on the bottom for anyone who wasn't already in the house.

The Gryffindor parties had become like legend in the school over the past two years, but I had still yet to go to one and now that Christmas break was fast approaching and there was no exams for a while it might be nice to let loose a little.

Luckily I knew exactly where to go to for fire whisky and some less approved plants that were grown in the back of the greenhouse.

~~~

After talking to some Ravenclaw friends who sold me the fire whisky I'd decided I might as well go to the party.

Worse case scenario it sucks and it's awkward and I go to bed early.

Best case scenario I have a great time and get drunk and possibly make a good memory or two.

I'd spent longer than I'd like to admit on getting ready and after a nervous dinner I'd met with Lily Evans to go to the party together.

"I'm so glad you're coming this time! I know as a prefect I shouldn't be really letting this happen but there always so fun, just try and avoid being one of the ones put into detention afterwards, luckily James usually volunteers to take the fall. Of course he's then followed by Sirius, Remus and Peter but usually once they get in trouble the rest of us get let off easily."

She said whilst beaming, her crush on James Potter was hardly subtle anymore.

"Yeah I'm glad I'm going as well, better than spending all night in my dorm, nice to see everyone out side of class and the library."

"You work to hard sometimes you know? You a talented witch Y/n you can take a break now and then."

She uttered the password to the fat lady and our conversation was cut off by the loud music of David Bowie that was playing over an enchanted speaker. Lily smiled as she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the common room and towards Mary and Marline.

After some talking, dancing and drinking the girls dispersed over the room to talk to other friends leaving me sat on the window sill with my glass of fire whisky, very buzzed.

"Is this seat taken?" A boy I recognised from Herbology asked with a smile.

I shook my head and moved up to make space for the Hufflepuff boy to slot himself in next to me.

"I don't know if we've met properly, I'm Michael we've got Herbology together."

I nodded with a smile as I looked at him for a second. He was cute. He was obviously nervous and blushing and he'd clearly been running his hands through his curly light brown hair since it looked more messy and out of place than the rest of him.

"Yeah I know, I'm Y/n. Having fun?"

"Yeah I am thank you, it's a great atmosphere in here and I just didn't want to leave such a pretty girl like you sat over here all by yourself." He chuckled lightly to himself as he looked away, unable to hold eye contact with me.

He chucked differently to Sirius, instead of sounding confident and self assured it was more shy and sweet. He didn't look anything like Sirius either, Michael was cute with pink cheeks and fluffy hair. Sirius was hot with a cocky personality and looked as if he was carved out of stone.

Micheal continued to chat my ear off with Herbology facts and compliments but he could never seem to build up the confidence to look me in the eyes.

I couldn't help but let my eyes wander across the room as I smiled at the sight of my friends dancing stupidly to an ABBA song that was making Remus pretend to plug his ears.

As I looked over to the other side of the room I finally spot Sirius who was leaning against the wall with a cup in his hand staring directly at me.

I quickly looked away back at Micheal but not before noticing Sirius stand up from the wall and head towards me.

"Yeah so that's why without Herbology potions would be completely useless, so basically half of the magical abilities we have would be completely worthless without-"

"Mind if I borrow her for a second?" Sirius says from behind my shoulder, causing me to take a big sip from my cup.

"Oh uh yeah of course, I'll see you in class." Micheal said to me with a big smile, finally meeting my eyes before scurrying off into the crowd.

"Wanna get some fresh air for a second?" Sirius asked, offering his hand to help me up.

"Why would I go anywhere with you?"

"Because I'll talk to you about something other than just Herbology." He said with a laugh.

I looked up at him for a second debating my options, maybe it's the whiskey or the fact that he was genuinely smiling at me but I took his hand and followed him out to the courtyard.

We walked in a comfortable silence, both of us finishing our drinks before he picked a bench to sit on.

December would be here soon and it was obvious by the fact that I could see my breath in front of me.

He wordlessly shook off his jacket and handed it to me.

I just looked at him dumbfounded for a second before he sighed and shook his head.

"Your shivering idiot. See I don't only think of myself, just put the damn jacket on."

I looked at him for another second before sliding my arms through the jacket and pulling it closer to me, it smelt like sandalwood, cigarettes and mint.

"You smoke?" He asked while taking the blunt from behind his ear and lighting it with the end of his wand.

"Sometimes." I said and he chuckled before inhaling and passing it over to me.

"So why'd you ask me to come out here?" I put the blunt in between my lips before inhaling, letting the smoke warm my throat and lungs before tilting my head back against the wall and exhaling, I looked over at him to see him already staring at me and gesturing for me to give the blunt back.

"Maybe I'm drunk but I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah you're definitely drunk."

He laughed and shook his head, taking another hit.

"What you said the other days been bothering me."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, "My words had an effect of the all mighty Sirius Black? Oh my." We both laughed as I lent over to take the blunt from his fingers and bring it to my lips again.

"Yeah your words, along with other things. Do people really think that of me? That I'm just a privileged twat with a confidence program?" He lent back against the wall, using his fingers to comb through his hair.

"You want to know the truth?" I asked with a small smile, a mix of booze and weed making me more confident than I should be.

He nodded, taking the blunt from my hand.

"I was jealous, and annoyed. You're just amazing at everything so easily and I feel like I have to work so hard. And you just waltz in with your effortless smile and pretty face and everything just comes to you."

He laughed again and turned to look at me, taking a last long inhale before stubbing out the blunt onto the floor.

"It's not effortless, you don't know half of it."

"I'd like to."

He lent over to move some hair from my face and tuck it gently behind my ear, letting his hand linger for a second.

"Maybe you will. I don't think your stuck up by the way, I think your brilliant. You drive Remus mad because of your grades which is saying something."

It was my turn to laugh now, "yeah I wish."

"No really you do. I'm sorry for what I did in potions by the way."

"It's fine it didn't take long to clean."

"No not that. The other thing I did in potions." He bit his lip for a second and I could've sworn he wasn't sat that close to me before.

"Oh that? It's fine it's not like I pushed you away." I awkwardly looked forward towards the view in front of us, suddenly very interested in the frozen spiderwebs in the corner.

"Would you care if I did it again? Just out of curiosity." I looked over at him to see that famous Sirius Black smile.

I laughed a little and allowed myself to move closer to him.

"Well there's only one way for you to find out isn't there?"

He laughed again, his finger tracing the bottom of my jaw softly.

He looked at me for a second before leaning in to push his lips against mine again.

There was less rush this time, his touch was softer and gentle. Maybe it was the taste of whiskey and weed coming from him but it was intoxicating.

He pulled away for a second, resting his forehead against mine.

"You called my face pretty." He whispered with a breathless laugh.

"Well you called me brilliant."

He shrugged for a second before I pulled him against me again, tangling my hand into his hair with a smile.

[dilys-min]

Intoxicated

Pairing: Yandere! Chuuya x reader

Warnings: Toxic relationship, mentions of past abusive behaviours, obsession

Words count: 889 words

The sky is gloomy with dark clouds, threatening to burst into rain. You could sense a tang of moisture mixed with the smell of the soil as a few droplets begin to fall down. You hurriedly go back home- your shared apartment with Chuuya. 

When you finally arrive at the door, you feel hesitant for a moment. You could leave, if you really wanted to. But who would you go to? Chuuya was your only family, your home.

As the door clicks open, you are taken by surprise when you see Chuuya- your boyfriend, who is currently busying himself in the kitchen. Noticing your presence, Chuuya flashes a grin toward you:

"Babe! You came home early. Sorry about the mess, I just thought that a romantic dinner would be a nice surprise."

The table is set up nicely, with candles and rose petals scattered around. A perfect candlelit dinner, just like from a cliché romance movie. You could tell he had put a lot of effort into this, it makes a part of your heart flutter. Soft-hearted thing you are.

He says with a shaky breath and pleading look in his eyes:

"I know I had fucked up badly. Just let me make up for you, please."

Again, you find yourself unable to say no to him. Instead, you just nod and let Chuuya pull out the chair for you.

The room is quiet, too quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Maybe this time he will change, maybe this time things will actually work out for both of you.

Your mind flies back to times when he had hurt you. Emotionally and otherwise. You think about how bruising his grip was when you came back from work too late or how suffocating his hugs are when you sleep at night, as if he was scared that once he let go, you will disappear into thin air.

His hand reaches out for you and intertwined with his, making you jump at the gesture

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to… I was thinking about something. About us."

You raise your head and look into his blue eyes. If you were in your younger days, you would confidently say you understand him more than anyone else. But now, you can't even figure out the emotions behind those eyes.

" I know what I have done is unforgivable. You could lash out at me as much as you want. But please, all I ask for is a second chance. I promise I won't hurt you again, [First]". His voice cracked up, the hand holding yours was shaking.

The sound of your name on his tongue feels strange and familiar at the same time. Like a moth to a flame, you nod and give his hand a small squeeze

"Okay. J-just don't mess up this time. This is your last chance and I mean it".

His lips curl into a smirk and he quickly presses a kiss on the back of your hand. 

.

.

After finishing dinner, both of you decide to settle down on the couch. The rain outside continues pouring down while droplets of water gently tap on the window. The sound lulls you to sleep. You lean against Chuuya. His arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest as you slowly drift off, wondering exactly when Chuuya had become home for you.

In your dream, you were back to your younger years, when you met Chuuya for the first time.

"Hey kid! What are you doing here?" You turn around only to see a boy, no younger than you, standing. What caught your interest was his deep blue eyes.

"You are a kid too, you know. And stop bothering me, gingerhead. Why don't you go home and drink more milk?"

The boy looked like he was about to burst out. The silver haired man standing next to him quickly tries to calm him down.

"Whatever. Just go back home before your parents-"

"If I had one, I wouldn't be here in the first place, genius." He seemed to be taken aback by your words. Ever since you could remember, you have been living in the slums, you have grown accustomed to the occasional rat and crumbling walls. 

The ginger-haired male looked deep in thought for a moment and speaks:

"Then how about joining the Sheep with me? That way you won't have to live like this anymore".

You have learned better than to trust anyone. But there is something about him urging you to agree. 

Despite his friend's- whose name you learn later on is Shirase- protests, he still reaches out his hand. You have nothing else to lose anyways, you thought as you take his hand, he grins at you:

"The name is Chuuya, by the way".

Maybe at that moment, Chuuya has become home for you.

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Chuuya looks at the sleeping form beside him. He gently snakes his arms under your knees and scoops you up, carrying you to the bedroom, carefully not to wake you up.You always look so peaceful in your sleep. You make him feel like he is a fully functional human, not an artificial vessel for a god. If the day when you aren't by his side comes, he isn't sure what would become of him then.

[starlitheaven]

Hey🌹 I was wondering if I can request gojo and his reaction to a sensitive, innocent and easily flustered s/o. Thank you

966 wc. suggestive. you’re welcome! <3

the box was quite innocuous—an elegant matte scarlet with a white satin ribbon. even mei’s note on the gift tag was misleading. for you, and for satoru to enjoy. nothing about it would suggest that inside was…

it doesn’t occur to you that you’ve just been standing there for a long moment until satoru leans down, tucking his chin over your shoulder. "what's wrong, babydoll?" he asks, eyeing your hands shaking over the lid you hastily closed. "what's that?"

you shake your head, biting your lip so hard he worries you'll break skin. “hm?" he places a kiss over your cheek, and the gesture rewards him with a gentle smile. sweet, he never fails.

"mei sent me a gift, but i don't know why she..."you trailed off, fidgeting with the lid as you try to find your words. oh no, now satoru wants to see. "I-I don’t understand.”

the words won’t even escape your lips, making satoru frown. what could be making you so flustered? it could be anything, so he places his hands over yours and guides you to open the box.

it’s a baby blue flower lace lingerie set with thigh garters and corset style bra. the fabric is thin and see thru—practically nonexistent. the trim is delicate and he immediately imagines how it’d rest over your soft breasts, waist, hips, thighs, and cunt—

“whoa.” satoru whistles, and his glasses slip halfway down the bridge of his nose. he doesn’t bother to fix them. how can he? his eyes are glued to the lacy garment, over the small cutout right on the underwear, so he wouldn’t even need to remove it to fuck you in it. he can almost feel himself pulling the thin fabric aside to accommodate his meaty dick. oh that’s lovely. “mei sent this?”

he looks up (well, down) in question, but all thoughts leave his brain as he sees what you’re holding up. his blue eyes widen at the item in your small hands. “she did, but I don’t know what this stuff is?”

this “stuff” being a body harness and a ball gag. you’re holding a ball gag: pink and heart shaped, smaller than he’s used before, and has holes in it to make it easier to breathe in—perfect for a beginner. the harness is white leather and satoru’s brain is malfunctioning at this point because genius that he is, he can perfectly imagine what you’d look like: your beautiful body adorned with the soft lace, exposed nipples hardening with anticipation and waiting to be bitten, body harness tight over your abdomen—and satoru would tug on it, use it as leverage as his cock slides in and out of your needy pussy. and those lips of yours—stretched glossy over the ballgag, and your eyes would water with pleasure, silently begging him for more, ‘harder ‘toru, please’—

and fuck, you look so sweet right now, doe eyes wide with curiosity over something so dirty that it makes satoru’s teeth ache. there’s no way a person should look that cute inspecting a ballgag. satoru can’t help it, he decides to mess with you. ‘pulling on her pigtails’ as shoko would say. which he does quite often.

he takes the ball gag from your hands and pretends to inspect it for a few seconds, holding back a laugh as you watch him intently. you really don’t know, huh? a smirk pulls at his lips, and he places the ball right over your lips. featherlight. your lips part slightly in surprise, looking up at him for explanation. so earnest.

“this here?” satoru starts, voice low and a little condescending. mean. “it’s to shut that needy mouth of yours. perhaps mei’s heard how loud you can get when I’m fucking you in my office, how much you beg for my cock—how you turn into a little cockslut for me. with this? you don’t have to hold back, babe. you can scream as loud as you want, and you’ll look so pretty drooling around it for me.”

you look mortified, going back and forth between the heart shaped ball and satoru, who’s toothy grin is making your face heat up. you never understood how he can say such things without an ounce of shame, and he mainly does it too just to get a reaction out of you. you’re a meek and sensitive little thing, he loves making you squirm. your mouth opens and closes for a few seconds and it’s so clear you hadn’t expected the ballgag to have been something sexual. even paired with the lingerie and the harness—that’s what it is. 

you drop the ballgag back into the box as if you had been burned, feeling tears well up in your eyes. it’s not hurt or shame that’s causing it, you’re just suddenly feeling overwhelmed. he painted such a filthy picture, and your insides feel hot with pure want over what he’s said. because if it’s with satoru, you know it’ll feel amazing. but still, it all makes you so painfully shy and embarrassed. 

satoru could say it’s the six eyes that makes him so attuned to your very thoughts, but no, it’s just his affection for you. he knows when you’ve reached your limit of what you can take and it warms his heart, because in these moments he’s consumed by the need to comfort you and make you smile. that gentle smile he cherishes so much.

"or, not everything is about you, babe." satoru huffs, taking the skimpy garment from the box. he takes the delicate straps in each hand and holds it over his chest. it looks ridiculous over his hard and muscled chest. "you sure this wasn't meant for me? look, it compliments my glowing skin and handsome good looks."

it works. you let out a laugh as he starts to pose with the lingerie in several provocative poses. he grabs the ballgag and holds it by his lips. 

“don’t i look sexy? let’s try it on me first!”

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Welcome to the estate of purple creatures!

002: The Dinner

"listen you ignorant lifeform of this vain you called a world. You have no say to this anymore. All you can do is give and do what I want-- in return I'll grant your wish."

A mad man laughs as he look down at him, he wasn't able to do anything as the big figure of the mad man grab hold of him like a doll and thrown him into the pit of hell.

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EARLIER THE DINNER DAY 4:AM

"No... no....LET ME BE PLEASE?!" Anxi wake up with a startle, sweating and with a fast heartbeat. He try to calm his nervous heart as he felt the felt fabric of the cover that's put over him. He look around nervously and realize his sleeping in the so called "room' of his but it's just a sofa and two doors, one connected to his world and the other is connected to the estate.

"It's just... A memory...." He shiver when he remembers that memory is nothing but nightmare everytime it come around every night before the day of the dinner.

"I don't want to go to the dinner...." Even how much experience he have with danger, war and many events back in his world. But it's a useless comparison compare to when he have to deal with that person, or the others that's did nothing but try to steal his things or simple scare him just being in the same room.

Besides... Those fellows who's connected to that previous guest... They will not like if they know he can read that person mind when they where here...' fear start to take over his mind, he unconscious start to bite his hand, trying to calm his self down from the pain he felt from the wounds he tend to make from under emotional break down.

"Master #18 Anxi. I have come to deliver your medicine." The door from the estate turn open and the android mecha peaks from the door, looking at him in the dark room.

[ #10 Stellar: ( creation) Mecha/Android]

"Greetings, good morning, good afternoon and good evening, master #18 Anxi..." Seeing that anxi nodded his head in his request of entrance. He come in with a slight bow and approach him with the medicine on his hand with water. "Your up quite early today." stellar added as he try to start a normal conversation between them.

".... Normally I would rather not." Anxi hugged his knees feeling weak and drain in the moment. He don't want to talk to anyone at the moment. Even it's a robot.

"Well, shall I leave you to take more needed sleep till the dinner?" The android notice the behavior of the other. Anxi nodded his head as he lay down back to his sofa, stellar bows one more time before he takes his leave.

When left in the dark room again, anxi stared at the ceiling door, many thoughts comes in his mind yet those thoughts are just thought. He doesn't notice he have fallen back to sleep to another memories.

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"Your dreams is quite big. No god or demon will ever grant it. Such an absurd thing to even dare to wish for! Such a foolish dream!" Says a mad man smiling at him as his cover from head to foot with red, blue and green blood and many meaty thing beside the ground he stood.

Smiling so widely, how sinister is it. It being nothing but chill in his heart.

"Fufu... Well, That's good that I'm no god or demon, that's quite understatement to the genius as I am!" Giggling innocently as he take a step closer to him.

"Oh pitiful soul, oh foolish counterfeit of who I am. Shall I grant your foolish dream? Through... You have to prove usefulness and loyalty to me...." Even through staring at the mad man is like seeing the devil version of him staring back at him, yet he is no devil as he is worse than those.

"... Will... You really grant it...?" He heard his own voice, full of despair and sadness.

"Of course! I will always keep my promise." The mad man smiles at him and offer him a hand. "Shake my hand and we shall have our deal be made in this wonderful day~" he added.

"... As long you'll grant my wish..." He can't do anything, his wish might be the only way. He can't bare to witness the fate of his friends, the people of his world. Reaching out he accepted the hands of the mad man. And no longer he can turn back.

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THE SAME DAY- 6:AM

Will he change anything?

He wonders as he open his eyes again, staring at the clock in the wall, he realize it's just been two hours since he last waken up. There's a knock in the door that's waken him from his sleep.

Seating up, he once again felt the coldness of the empty room. Unlike earlier where he felt he wake up in such nightmare. He don't feel that memory is a nightmare.... It's.... Terrible to be put in a way, a hope for him.

'i probably won't change anything...' not when there's many lives and things in line, he can't bare to lose and bare to lose them again. Standing up he went to open the door, the fluffy rug against his bare feet reminds him of home...

"What can I help you with.... " He open the door and saw no one, at least in the eye level.

"Huh.... " He look from side to side before he look down and saw the stuff toy of one of the tenant of the estate looking up to him, while holding a card board with the word [ can you help CC?] It look a him with unchanging face.

Anxi look around again and saw in the corner of the hallway, #20 Cherish Cutie is staring at him, peaking from the edge of the wall, before hiding again.

"On what?" He look down at the toy again, who flip the page the card board, to show another message. [ Find Big brother to help X. X is ill :((]

"Oh...I don't know where that person is. I doubt if you don't know where he is either, then if his not here. His probably out somewhere. Who knows till when." He spoken in a volume that cc would hear.

Anxi though about #16 X who's an alter of his with a terrible fate. It's something cruel to be even experience, yet he does know one thing... everyone here, suffer some level of hardship to be even in this place. to even try to make a deal with a devil like creature. Just like him. They want something that gods or demons can't grant.

Honestly... There's a god in this place. Even a god can reach such point where they ask favor from the likes of that [ person ]

"... Do you know who can help me then? Please... I don't know what to do, X have been sleeping for a long time... " He felt someone pulled his hand, he looks down to the other creation of that [ person ] begging him for help. How odd. How can he be of a help?

"I'm sorry... I don't know what to do in X situation at all.." all he knows is fight the war, yet even that time. He blacked out as he don't want to remember or count how many lives he ended, just to attain momentarily victory.

"I... Is that so.... *Sniff..." The homunculus starts to cry as he realize it's a hopeless case, he can't do anything. It always felt he can't do anything. His just a child. How can he be a use to his dear friend??? Can he be useless? Why can't days just be happy times where he plays everyday... ' CC thought hugging nui tightly, tears felt familiar as it always fall from his eyes when he felt hopeless, and useless.

"Ah... Please don't cry... Please don't cry...." Anxi felt bad as he went down to his knee to the eye level of CC, whipping the tears of the young Homunculus. he thought of the people and things in this estate.

"There's... Still somethings that can help you... And someone ..." He really can't handle seeing a child cry, even how the said child look like him. "R-really...?" CC look at him in surprise, with hope in his eyes.

"Hm.... " He wonders if he even should be telling this to this child. "One of them is Thief... His a genie. He can grant wishes. Through... I don't know the scoop of his possible things he can grant."

"Are you sure... His a genie...? All he did is steal stuff from everyone here." CC mumbles. He doesn't know about that troublesome purple that much to be even close to him to do that.

"Well, you still have that thing...."

"Huh..." CC is confuse what thing he talks about. He wonder if it's a stuff big brother made. '

"The thing that made from the void and anti matter."

"What... What is that???"

"... Ahmm... It's thing who want to kill the others being too close to the guest from last time."

".... Do you mean Yuro-nii... Why did you call Yuro-nii a thing..." Even through he refuse to acknowledge that inkling as a big brother since he is a creation of big brother as well and older than him and Stellar-chi... He is still a brother >.> ' CC thought as he look at Anxi who sudden realize something terrible.

"Ah... Oh no. Please don't call it--him that when your around it--him and Caps.... And don't tell it was me who said that...." He suddenly in a terrible panic attack as he realize he said a taboo that captain forbid others to know, especially those who don't know about the accident before.

CC: "What." (⁠･⁠o⁠･⁠;⁠)

Anxi: " [ Yuro ] have an ability that can rewrite someone Destiny... I don't know how it can rewrite it, but it's the most likely to help X... " (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠)

CC: " ... Is that even possible. Yuro-nii is not THAT cool to do that."

The little kid who seen yuro did nothing worth to be called that amazing, based on what Anxi spokes about him. Through he does remember yuro changing the whole dinning hall into a beautiful place before when the guest arrive in the estate but that's not that EXTRA. And if he was, why doesn't others use him to grant their [ wish ] then?

Anxi:"... A long time ago, there was some others who was here for the usual reasons, you weren't made yet that time... Asking a favor from your [big brother] ... At that time [ it ] was created. Those unfortunate [ purple ] creatures that's stumble upon this place with desire to do something unthinkable. Could be said... [ Lucky ] that [ it ] granted their wish. " Remember that event where that mad man introduce his new creation to everyone, everyone cannot trust him or it.

But one eventually did volunteer to be the [ test subject ] because he doesn't have anything to lost than he already have anyway. And to everyone disbelief his [ wish. ] Was granted. Yet before everyone can go to it, to do the same....

.

.

.

A STORY OF LONGTIME AGO:

"What is this ..... audacity... " Captain arrived at the sign where it's being pulled apart by the desperate unfortunate souls. It can't even mainten it's humanoid form. Yet it's face is blank not until captain picks it up to his arm, removing the hopeless plea from others.

He remembers how captain is mad, no... he was 'furious' about the scene, it become even more livid when the words from one of the tenants is spoken out.

"Don't be selfish and give it to us to! It's our turn for it's magic!" An existence that no longer exist. That what become to the very person who spoke that the next moment as captain stared down at them.

The image of that person in Anxi memories is not even that vivid, that unfortunate soul is faceless when remembers.

"... Hmm. What's wrong, all your mouth seems to find it's mute button finally~" the mad man chuckle in the sideline, it seems that he plan to see such scene to begin with. Captain gaze at him. "Don't give me that look, I never told any of them to be crude while handling it."

"Shut your bloody mouth, don't call him an it. He have a name that's Yuro." Even through he don't speak that out loud to not scare [ it ] the Venum of his voice that's lace with loath at the idea of this mad man just did for his entertainment. To see him anger as entertainment. Just when he said: he don't want Anything to happen to [ Yuro ] as he call it.

*Crack.

Glasses breaks, metal binds, woods turn into two. Anxi felt the same feeling of a black hole forming yet it was just Captain. It's scary when he remembers IT WAS BECAUSE OF CAPTAIN.

he remembers the nerve-racking fear from the unknown when captain glare at others, who was forcefully put to kneel before him.

"The one you made deals with is not this child but this bas—" he pause when he remembers his holding a [ child ] " insolent swine...!" pointing at the mad man who only chuckle at the new nickname. "Only contemptible people will use a child for heartless gain..." He added.

" Don't touch and even dare say anything about this event to anyone, or else your existence is gone from everyone mind and memories... " He threaten the others before he kicks docs chair in the side to throw him off but the mad man just laugh as he land on the floor. He was greatly entertain.

"It seems that you guys wasted your time thinking of what if. Now my perfect creation can't help you. Oh well. This is greatly entertaining, I'll let you all have a slice of extra cakes this dinner night~" standing up like nothing happen through still giggling a big when he remembers how livid captain was, doc look at everyone and then to anxi wasn't included to the punishment.

"It's not fair others gets bad things happen to them, in this wonderful night. Shall I make it fair ? [ You will use it/it's when thinking and speaking about "Yuro" from now on]... And maybe gossip about em when someone ask ahaha~" It was a death sentence but anxi can't do anything when it's a demand from that person. "It's be a good sight if this happens again~ and it's all be your fault this time~ fufu." He smiles so wickedly.

"Don't worry you'll get [ hyperlink blocked] in return... Isn't it a fair deal?" Doc don't accept rejection. No one can deny him anyway. Anxi can only sigh and nodded.

.

.

.

"Are you that old? You been out dozing off..." CC who notice that Anxi froze out and zone out like an old man. "Anxi stared at CC.

"I felt sick. I don't want to attend the meeting. " Anxi could already see the anger from Captain if he hears about him gossiping about Yuro. He quickly went onto his room and close it at CC face. Not wanting to deal with everyone again. He needs to write his last well, again.

The young Homunculus hugs his creation in wonder if what he hear is really the truth or not, before he decided to go look for Yuro.

Character profile #4

Purple creature: #18 Anxi

He is a galactic soldier of one of the leading country/galaxy in the war in the vast space. He acted quite different when his around other purple creature especially the likes of Doc, Yuro and Captain. He is full of anxiety and nervousness around those three, through mostly Doc and Captain.

He is an alien. His tears is golden and his blood is purple.

He is the owner of the whole planet where the estate stood. It's an award given to him by the higher commander as a [ hero ] of war who brought victory.

Abilities: his very good in driving mecha.

[captain-tch]

The Drummer and the Freak (Eddie Munson x GN!Reader) 2/2

When your friend breaks her hand two weeks before Battle of the Bands, you need a replacement, and now. Luckily for you Eddie Munson is a fast learner. Warnings: mentions of reader wearing makeup (eyeliner, mascara, lipstick)

part 1

It felt like second nature for Eddie to be around now. He lingered in the corner of your gaze, occupying all of your senses and thoughts. Ever since the night he came to your house to practice for the first time, you felt as if you had fallen victim to a spell. Every day you couldn’t wait until you were practising, one step closer to your goal and the perfect excuse to watch him play openly. Normally, you only ever felt joy being in this bandroom with your friends; but today, you felt a hint of sadness. It was the final time you would practice together. 

As the last notes of the Journey song echoed throughout the room, you were unable to contain your shriek of joy. Steve stepped away from his keyboard, taking a large gulp of water, Robin hopping up and down excitedly and Eddie was bending backwards, stretching his back like a cat. 

“I can’t believe it’s so close.” 

Steve clapped your shoulder. “One step closer to victory.”

For once, Eddie didn’t counter it. You were all extremely positive that despite only two weeks of training, you could actually win. 

“You’re nearly as good as me,” Robin grinned, dodging Eddie’s playful hit to the arm. “It was genius, adding metal. Who knew metal could be so cool?” 

“I did!” Eddie exclaimed, blind to Robin’s teasing smile. 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” She patted his shoulder, nodding at Steve. “Ready to bounce?”

Steve shook his head up and down, snatching his backpack. He gave us a big smile, waving and leading Robin out of the room. “See you for the big night!”

You echoed their farewells, letting the smile drop the moment their backs were turned. You sat, staring around the four walls for what felt like the final time. Your heart constricted in your chest as you realised one time, you would leave this room and never enter it again. The place where friendships were forged and creativity thrived. This was where you were the most vulnerable, where you let my emotions spill into the beat of a drum and slam of the cymbel. During your time in high school, this was your second home. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked. 

You wanted to nod your head; you found your head moving side to side. You laughed darkly. “I’m dandy.” 

“I thought you’d be more excited.” 

“I am, I am.” You sighed deeply, turning your eyes away from Eddie. “It’s just bittersweet, I guess.” 

He took the seat across from you, listening attentively. 

“Robin and Steve, they have plans, big plans, and me? I’m stuck in this hell hole of a town, praying I can graduate and if I’m lucky, manage the gas station down the road.” You rubbed your fingers together, tracing the calluses formed after years of drumming on your palms. “Not that being a gas station manager is a bad thing, it’s just, it feels like everyone is moving forward and I’m… here.” 

“Moving forward is overrated, I should know, I’m pretty sure I’m repeating senior year. Again.” Eddie shrugged, sending you a shy smile. “They’re not going to forget you.” 

“That’s the thing about moving forward Eddie, people don’t look back. I’m just trying to enjoy whatever time with them I have left.”

Eddie looked at you carefully. “Then I guess we’ve got to win then.” 

“Exactly.” 

When Eddie picked you up in the morning in his van, you felt sick to your stomach. Your nerves were plaguing your body and your hands wouldn't stop shaking. 

He sent you a reassuring smile, helping you load the last of your drum kit into his van. 

"Thanks, Eddie." 

He wiped his forehead, giving you yet another smile. You convinced yourself the butterflies in your stomach were because of the concert tonight, and not caused by the way he was looking at you. 

"Are we all set?"

You cast a glance over the contents of the van, a sudden thought springing to mind. Telling him to hold off, you rushed inside the house, sprinting up the stairs and snatching up the tshirts carefully folded in the back of your closet. You rushed back down, shouting a farewell to your parents as you stopped in front of Eddie. Your chest heaved up and down as you tossed him a shirt. He fumbled to catch it, lifting it up to inspect it. The material was jet black, with short sleeves. There was a white and red carnival tent, the flaps open to reveal bold, white scratchy writing. 

"Welcome to the Circus?" Eddie raised a brow. 

"Yeah, we finally decided on a name." You gently took the shirt from his hands, ignoring how you felt electric when your hands brushed his. On the back, the band name was present proudly. 

"Freak Show?" 

"I know it doesn't exactly fit our vibe but… It felt right." 

"I love it." Eddie sent you another blinding smile. This time you couldn't ignore how your heart skipped a beat. 

He handed it back to you, you pushed it back towards him. "It's yours. You're one of us." 

You couldn't pull myself from his gaze. You hadn't realised how close you were standing and all of a sudden all you could sense was him - his calming presence, the weed scent glued to his skin and if you looked up, he'd be looking directly down at you. Your heart pounded in your ears and all you could think about was reaching up, pulling him down and catching his lips on your own. 

"C'mon," You cleared my throat, wrenching yourself from the spell. "We need to pick the others up." 

Eddie appeared dazed as he pulled away. He didn't acknowledge what had just happened, shutting the doors to the van and slinging the shirt across his shoulder. 

It was normal for the van to only be filled with the shrill of his tapes. You blocked them out. 

Robin and Steve ran out of the house in a flurry, Steve awkwardly carrying his keyboard down the driveway. Eddie helped him load it in the truck whilst you hugged Robin, her swinging you side to side in excitement. The pre-gig buzz was setting in and you were all high on it. The drive to the gig was unbearingly slow, each minute seeming to drag for years. 

Robin’s head appeared between yours and Eddie’s seats. “I know we’re running on a tight schedule and everything, but if I don’t pee right now I think my bladder is going to explode, like full on boom.” 

“We literally passed a diner, like five minutes ago.” 

“I didn’t need to pee then!” Robin’s bottom lip popped out. “Pretty please?” 

Eddie sighed, looking at Robin from the corner of his eye. 

“You can’t say no to a face like that.” You patted Robin’s cheeks, doing your best to give Eddie your biggest, doe like eyes. “She did say please.” 

“Ugh, fine.”

“There!” Robin leaned over the seats, pointing at a gas station coming up on the horizon. She infringed on Eddie’s line of vision. Eddie slapped her hand out of the way, the van swerving slightly. Steve swore at the back, muttering about how he should be the one driving. 

Robin retreated into her seat, bouncing up and down in her seat as you got closer to the gas station. The car had barely pulled to a stop before Robin had wrenched the door open, sprinting out and screaming aggressively. “Move out of the way!” 

You all watched Robin’s form disappear into the toilets. Eddie was the first to break the silence. “Is she always like that?” 

“Pretty much.” Steve and you spoke in unison. 

“Good to know.” 

You huffed a laugh, interlocking your fingers and stretching your arms out in front of you. Your joints popped, a wave of relief coursing through you.

Eddie tried to disguise his disgust at the clicking noise. “Why don’t you stretch your legs? Might as well make the most of it.” 

“I’m fine here.” You smiled nervously at him, playing with your fingers. He smiled back, eyes remaining on your face. Steve watched the pair of us from the back seat, mouth slightly opening in realisation. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to grab some snacks. Want anything?” Steve waited for a response, shrugging. “Okay, if anyone complains about the food I’m officially resigning from all future snack duties.” 

With a resounding thud, Eddie and you were left all alone in the van. Blood pounded in your ears. It wasn’t like this was your first time alone with Eddie, in fact ever since that first night where you’d practised at your house you had carried on the routine. You were comfortable in his company, yet it never stopped your nerves setting alight when he looked at you a certain way or tugged at his lips with teeth as he talked. 

“So,” Eddie turned in his seat, so his entire body was facing you. You kept your head down, too busy tracing the calluses on your hands. “Big night, huh?” 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“Any plans once this is all over?” 

“I guess try not to flunk? ‘Sides from that, no, not really.” You therapeutically cracked your knuckles, letting the satisfying clunks distract you from your thoughts. You tried not to think too often about what you would do, what all of you would do, once the Battle of the Bands was over. It felt like for years this band was the only keeping Robin, Steve and you together and you were too scared to find out what would happen when the band no longer existed. 

“Great, because I was thinking -” Eddie’s words were cut off as Robin threw herself in the back seat, a sigh of relief passing her lips. 

“Oh my god, guys, I have never felt better in my life! Not even after that time where I had a splinter in my toe for three weeks and finally managed to get it out. But the toilets were pretty dodgy, do you think I’ll need to get tested? I felt like I got an STI the minute I sat down.” Robin halted in her rant, assessing how close Eddie and you were sitting. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nothing important - what were you saying, Eddie?” You felt as if you saw Eddie deflate. He twisted his body away from mine, the distance between us growing. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, momentarily tapping his fingers against the material. 

“I was just asking if you wanted a smoke.” 

Confusion flooded your senses. You stuttered, wanting to question him more, feeling the words die in your throat. “No, I’m - I’m good, thanks.” 

“‘Kay.” Eddie hopped out of the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. You stared at the space where he was a second ago, racking your brain for something you did wrong. From here you could see his figure in the side mirror, his body curved against the side of the van as he lit up a cigarette. His left foot was pushing gently against the side of the vehicle. You had no idea what he was thinking, struggling to gauge his feelings, his hair covering the details of his face. Your heart begged for you to chase him outside, to soothe his woes and provide him some company. You stayed cemented in your seat.  

"You okay?" Robin's hand fell on your shoulder. You forced your gaze to tear away from Eddie’s reflection, trying to wipe any trace of worry from your face. 

"Yeah, fine, totally." 

Robin smiled knowingly. "You're nervous." 

"Kinda." You didn’t elaborate further. While you were nervous for the gig, you were more nervous about being on the stage with him, and how things would unfold once the final note was played. 

"I know how to help with that." Robin disappeared from my sight, then reappeared with her makeup bag. She rummaged around, pulling out an eyeliner. "Got to look the part, ya know?" 

You nodded, allowing her to guide the pencil over your eyelids. You blinked at the foreign sensation, narrowly missing the pencil being jabbed into your eye. She tutted, dragging the pencil along your eyelids again for good measure. 

You moved away from her, familiarising myself with the new feeling. She grabbed your chin, yanking you forwards. You almost fell forwards with the sheer force of it. She swiped mascara over your eyelashes, leaning backwards and assessing her work. 

“It just needs… A little something else.” She turned away, digging into the makeup bag. You took this opportunity to blink rapidly, feeling the unfamiliar weight of mascara on your lashes. 

“Voila!” She pulled out a bright red lipstick, grinning madly. You had no chance to protest, her pressing it to your lips and wiping the colour effectively across them. 

“This is assault!” You complained, squirming away from her. She simply smiled, clicking the lipstick closed. 

“Have a look.” 

You bit back the urge to swipe the colour from your lips, following Robin’s orders. You took the compact mirror she handed you, unable to contain your gasp. You looked… stunning. The eyeliner had smudged slightly, but it made it even more perfect. The mascara made your eyes pop and the lipstick made you look powerful. It felt as if you were wearing battle armour. 

“You gonna press charges now?” 

You shook your head, watching your reflection as you grinned. The lipstick framed your lips perfectly. 

“Are you guys ready to hit the road?” Eddie was twirling his keys around his finger, appearing in the now open driver's door, carrying the sweet stench of smoke with him. With a jingle, the keys flew off his finger as his eyes fell on you. “Oh, uh, hi.” 

“Hi.” You laughed, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

“You’re welcome,” Robin winked discreetly at you, patting you playfully on the shoulder. “I’ll go find your keys then, Munson. Not like we need to get somewhere soon.” 

“Oh right,” he twirled his hair, bringing the curl to his face. He looked you up and down, and you felt as if you were under the microscope. You could feel the sweat building on your hands. “You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, unable to fight the happiness forcing your lips upwards, 

“Get a room!” Robin mocked. You knew if you had your drum sticks in hand, you would be throwing them at her. 

Steve walked out of the shop, laden with bags. As all eyes turned to him, he held his hands up in surrender. “It’s not a road trip without a lot of snacks.” 

~

You couldn’t believe it. The moment was nearly here. You all stood to the corner of the stage, waiting for your name to be called. The band before us was just finishing and with each note you felt your anxieties grow. The pressure in your chest got larger. 

This was our last chance. 

This was the final chance to win and leave our mark in history.

This was our last performance together.  

The drumsticks in your hands looked like they were vibrating. You willed them to stop; they just shook faster. 

“Hey,” Eddie leaned towards you, his hair brushing your cheek. You shivered at the feeling. “We got this.” 

You pushed down the fear rising in your throat, feeling yourself nod. You turned your head, his face mere inches from yours. You don’t know what possessed you but you leaned even closer, so close one false move and there would be no space between us. 

“Good luck,” you breathed. You felt his eyes focus on the movement of your lips.  

“Please welcome to the stage, Freak Show!” 

“Stop flirting, we have a prize to win!” Steve slapped yours and Eddie’s back harshly, pushing himself between us, effectively breaking us apart. You followed Steve onto the stage, eyes trained to our band name pasted on the back of his shirt. 

The roar of the crowd was deafening. The lights were blinding. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest it was threatening to break through your ribs and your hands were so sweaty you feared the drum sticks would fly out of your hands. 

You’d been waiting for this moment since you stepped into the halls at Hawkins High. You’d trained for this for years, spent countless hours with Robin and Steve building calluses and creating music to thrive here. Every waking moment of the past two weeks had built up to these three minutes on this stage, in front of this crowd.

Robin waved at us from the side of the stage, sending us an enthusiastic thumbs up. She wore her band shirt proudly, the colours reflecting under the stage lights. 

Steve settled into position behind his keyboard, adjusting the mic. He smiled at you wide, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. Eddie was tuning the guitar, testing a few chords before looking up, finding your gaze already on him. His face was gentle. 

“You got this.” He mouthed. 

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. We were ready. 

You clapped the drum sticks together, signalling the start of the song. 

Steve’s body moved as he began to play the keys of the intro, moving closer to the mic. “Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.” 

Eddie softly nodded his head to the music, strumming the guitar to the new faster melody. 

You waited for your queue, hitting the drums with a burning passion as the chorus came into play. You leaned closer to the mic to join Steve in the vocals, eyes closing as your hands guided the sticks by pure muscle memory. Eddie shredded the guitar, letting the electric notes warp and change the song into something new and bold. 

Eddie took centre stage as he did a guitar solo, his instrument seeming to be part of his body. You couldn’t move my eyes from him, enraptured by the way his whole upper body tilted forward with the solo. His fingers moved along the strings deftly, his rings reflecting in the lights as he poured his entire being into the music. As his solo finished, he looked up, and it felt like the whole room disappeared. 

It felt like mere seconds we were up there, but soon the song came to a close and the crowd were screaming. You were out of breath and your arms were aching but we did it. 

You rushed out of my seat, running up to Steve and Eddie, grabbing them and excitedly jumping up and down. Robin ran off from the side of the stage, joining all of us in your festivities. We were talking over one another breathlessly, relishing the love of the crowd as we let the fame wash over us for a glorious second. 

This was the moment you had been dreaming of since you first signed up for Battle of the Bands. We were living our glory days now, and god did it feel electric. 

We left the stage, riding the buzz of the performance. This was a high you never wanted to come down from. 

“Guys, you were amazing!” Robin squeezed me into a rib breaking hug, holding me at arms length. “I’m so sad I couldn’t play but holy shit, watching you guys? You were incredible!”

Steve pounced on Robin from behind, shaking his hand through her hair and messing it up. She laughed, fighting to get him off. He eventually jumped off, Steve and Robin gushing amongst themselves, Robin using big hand gestures and nearly hitting passer-bys with her cast. You smiled, watching them interact. 

“You were amazing.” Eddie reached out, his hands finding your shoulders. He shook you lightly, exclaiming enthusiastically. “You were a machine out there!” 

“Me?” You scoffed, brushing off his hands. “What about you, Mr Metal? For a guy who dissed Don’t Stop Believin you were pretty into it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Are you ready to put your reputation on the line for the second round?” 

“I’m in it until the finish line, baby.” 

You loved the way the pet name rolled off of his lips. You’d pay anything to hear it again. Maybe it was the rush of the gig, or a sudden rush of courage, but you moved onto your tiptoes, whispering into his ear. “I can’t wait to see you play the next song.” 

You pulled away, biting your lip to suppress the grin at his slightly confused yet curious expression. His brow lifted, taking a minute to process what you had said. A tension settled amongst the pair of us, one you weren’t wanting to break, addicted to this feeling, how he made you feel.

“They’re announcing the set list!” Steve snatched at your hand, wrenching you forward, shattering the moment. A crowd of all types of people clustered around the announcer shouting out the names of the bands moving to the next round. All around you people rejoice and others wait in anticipation. With each name whittled off, you started to feel your hope ebb away, until the announcer finally jumped from the podium, leaving a stream of hopes and lost dreams in his wake. 

They didn’t call your name. 

“We…Lost?” You sucked in a breath, and then another. You could feel your chest constricting as one thought circulated throughout your brain - I wasn’t good enough. 

You couldn’t comprehend what was happening. You turned on your heel and ran, bursting out the fire exit of the club, gulping the night air. You instantly regretted not bringing a jacket but the thought of going back inside made the world spin. You were deaf to the footsteps behind you, only becoming aware of his presence when he appeared before you, crouching down, hands ghosting your skin. 

“Hey, hey, breathe.” You only stared at him, unable to form words. “It’s okay, it’s not the end of the world.” 

“This was -” Your fingernails cut into the palms of your hands. “These are our glory days, and I know it sounds so stupid but I just wanted one good story to tell.”

“There are plenty of other stories -” 

“That they’ll forget! They’ll forget the times we played hookie and played in the band room until our fingers were sore, or the time that Robin stuck my drum stick up her nose and we nearly had to take her to the hospital.” You were on the verge of hyperventilating, the tears falling freely. “They’ll forget everything.”

You saw Eddie’s face fall slack, the truth dawning on him. “This wasn’t about winning.” 

“Is it that obvious?” You choked out a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t know what will happen once the band is done. I don’t know if we’ll stay friends, or if they’ll just leave like everyone else. I - I just wanted one really big win.” 

Eddie said nothing, his hands now touching the bare skin of your arms. He rubbed reassuring circles into the skin. 

You weakly smiled, rubbing at your tear stained cheeks. “Everyone remembers the big wins and we never had a chance to get one. They’re going to forget.”

“That’s never going to happen.” 

You snickered darkly, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, you can predict the future Eddie.” 

“I will never forget you.” 

“You’re just trying to suck up to me.” 

“I won’t forget a single second.” Eddie’s hand moved from your arm, to gently cupping your cheek. You found myself subconsciously succumbing to his touch. “I’m not going to forget a single thing and I’ve only known you for two weeks, they’ve had years with you. Trust me, they won’t be able to forget a person like you.”

You gasped, suddenly remembering the real reason he was standing in front of me. “Oh god, the money! I’m so sorry.” 

“Well,” Eddie smiled softly. “I did ask for something for my trouble.” 

“What?” 

“You said I could have anything I like,” Eddie took a deep breath, mustering the courage. “ I’d like you. I’d like to go on a date with you.” 

“But…Why?” 

“Don’t you get it? It was never about the money to me, it was about you.”

You gaped at him. YOu couldn’t form any words, floored by his confession. In the weeks you’d known him, he’d weakened your knees and made your hands shake. Hearing him saying the things from your fantasies spurred you to recreate one of your most prominent dreams. 

You grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him towards you. You gave yourself no time to think as you pushed your lips against his. His lips were slightly chapped, roughly rubbing against your soft ones. He melted under your touch, his hands falling just above your waist. Your pulse was thundering as his lips moved against yours, moving in perfect harmony. He tasted like cigarettes. 

He pulled away, forehead pressed against yours. Your breaths mixed together as his lips hovered inches from yours. His gaze was fixed on you, mouth spread open wide. 

“I take it that’s a yes?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, cut off by the door behind you slamming open. Eddie and you jumped apart, spinning to the source of the noise. Steve rushed out, Robin on his tail, his eyes wide and snatching at your wrist. 

"What are you doing?" You exclaimed, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp. 

"Just, come on!" He pulled you further down the hall, leading us closer to the main stage. Noise assaulted your ears, the crowd chanting something you struggled to make sense of. 

"We lost Steve, let's just go home!" You screamed to be heard over the noise. 

He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly. "Just listen!" 

You rolled your eyes but complied. You focused on the noise, finally making out the words of the chant. 

"Freak! Show! Freak! Show!" 

"Is that…" 

Steve grinned manically. "Ready to go play again?" 

You spun around, Eddie's face mirroring Steve's. He nodded enthusiastically. "We can't deny the people what they want." 

Robin jumped on Steve’s back, piggybacking him onto stage as she raised her fist in the air, shaking it wildly. You followed closely, feeling Eddie’s fingers interlace with yours as you stepped onto the stage, where the crowd was cheering your name. You all drank in the noise, sharing disbelieving euphoric grins. 

Yeah, you didn't win. But there was one thing you knew for sure - none of you were going to forget that for a very, very long time. 

stranger things masterlist

[the-masked-ram]

Mannequin Part Three

A/N: Please read CW before continuing, this is my darkest work and not for those easily offended. This is part of my contribution to @cyancherub ‘s Wheel of Misfortune collab. CW: dark content, not sfw, non-con, medical torture, knife play, gun play, drug use, amputation, body horror, horror, minor character death, serial killer, living dolls, stalking, gore, violence, ambiguous ending, abduction, corruption, nightmares, mind break, breath play, dacryphilia, obedience, fear play, fem reader Summary: You are a mere secretary in the city’s busiest hospital, however with your current lack of luck you have caught the eye of a serial killer who likes to turn his victims into living dolls. It’s all you can do to survive when you can’t even speak unless he lets you.  

Part Three: I can give you life with just a single whisper Tsukishima could not believe how lucky he was, you had come to him. No one else had ever created a bond with him on their own. He had always needed to make sure they stayed. That they couldn’t run. When you showed up at the hospital a couple of days before you were supposed to be back, a few hours after he dumped the last body, he couldn’t stop the smirk that wormed its way onto his lips. You were so stupid. So beautifully fucking naïve. He was going to ruin every innocent part of you. He wanted to see you covered in red, sticky streaks of your own blood as he cut your skin apart. He wanted to watch tears roll over your face and spoil the makeup he’d carefully brush across your cheeks. His hands quivered. You would be worth keeping. He would destroy the current you, only to keep you immaculate for years as the twisted visage his mind craved. He sat across from you in the doctor’s lounge, drinking tea silently while he watched you practically shake in front of him. Kei’s face was a careful mask of neutral curiosity, something a stranger should express when a coworker drags them out of wrist deep stomach contents and sample collecting. You hadn’t given him much of a reason, but he could taste the fear rolling off you. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what gruesome little thoughts your mind was spinning, how they tortured you with flickering shadows and imaginary voices. It was funny, he didn’t quite know why you sought solace in him, but he had to bite back a laugh at just how broken your radar for danger was. He took another sip of his berry laced green tea as he waited for your eyes to stop darting and your fingers to stop quivering. He was patient while you steeped in his presence, and he slowly watched you grow calmer over the minutes. In all these years of hunting for those to add to his collection, Tsukishima Kei had learned one constant above all else, patience truly was a virtue. One worth investing in. ---- You had found your blonde savior quickly enough, once you got the panic under enough control that you could figure out the subway system. It was so easy to forget something you used everyday when the rest of the world was falling apart, your very mind slipping through your frantic grasp like particles of sand. Sand that was counting down what little time you had left, and perhaps what little sanity as well.

 He had welcomed you in his usual way, a cold glare and arrogant quirk of his eyebrow. The consistency had soothed your battered heart, reduced it’s panicked beats to a slower, skipping hum. His confidence radiated a calm energy, even if he was somewhat annoyed by your appearance and the fact you were interrupting his work again. But when you looked up at him, you saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes, and you assumed it was the closest thing to softness for Tsukishima Kei you would get. You stared down at the cooling tea in your hands, watching the way the green water ripple with each of your exhales, “Did you hear about the new… one?” It was too hard to be more specific, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say body or woman. Both made it all so much more real, so much more horrific. It made you aware that this person who was now dead, had once been living their life just like you were. It made you painfully conscious of the fact that you were just as likely to be next, like any of the women who had become before you. That they had been in your shoes once. You swallowed drily, once again so desperately parched, and you gulped at the bitter tea in hopes to soothe yourself in more ways than one. Tsukishima hummed affirmatively, and you were so thankful that he didn’t need you to elaborate. Your thoughts cowering away from the possibility. “I’m still the coroner on the case,” he said with a sigh of annoyance, as if it should be obvious to you. You wanted to be affronted with his flippant attitude, but you couldn’t be. If you’d been thinking clearly, you wouldn’t have even asked if he knew. But now… now you questioned everything. “What happened?” he prompted, you looked up from your hands again and there was no sympathy in his eyes, just curiosity.

At least you knew what to expect with him, you huffed as you glanced off to the side and said, “They called me. From what I can tell they think I fit the killer’s preference for victims. I’m supposed to be more careful.” Your voice trembled, and eyes warmed, the threat of tears once again pushing against your ducts. “Hn,” he grunted, and you looked up, for some reason hoping for more. “And why did you come to me?” That made you freeze, why had you sought him out? You knew on an instinctual level, but it made no logical sense if you were honest with yourself. You didn’t know Tsukishima, he wasn’t good at comfort, but you wanted to be treated as normally as possible, even when speaking about the darkness that had invaded your every breath. You chewed your lower lip, not noticing the minute widening of his pupils as he watched your white teeth tear into your soft flesh. He cleared his throat, shifting, and you focused back on him, assuming he was annoyed with your silence as you mulled over your answer. “Honestly, I don’t truly know. I do know that you treat me how I want to be treated,” you murmured, feeling an uncomfortable need to squirm as he narrowed his eyes. “You must be a masochist,” he said nonchalantly, sipping at his tea again. You let out a sound somewhere between a choke and a squeak and he scoffed, while you vehemently shook your head, coughing against the water invading your trachea. “Su-ure,” he drawled, eyes sparkling with renewed interest as they roved your face. “I come back in a couple days,” you wheezed. Tsukishima frowned, and grunted in acknowledgement again, “So?” You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face, “I’m scared.” “Obviously, you’d be amazing levels of stupid if you weren’t,” once again his eyes narrowed, and he leaned his cheek against his knuckles. “Why are you telling me? Usually, people want something with this kind of leading conversation.” You blinked, honestly you hadn’t thought beyond being in his presence and apparently spilling your guts. Shrugging a shoulder, you cleared your throat and deemed it safe to take the last sip of your tea. “Honestly, I wasn’t leading you anywhere. I don’t know what I’d even ask for if I was going to,” you said blankly. ---- Perhaps you were stupider than he thought or maybe you were truly just pure and didn’t have a manipulative bone in your body. He shifted again and suppressed a shudder as he felt his cock harden at the possibility. God, he wanted to destroy everything you held dear. He grit his teeth, inhaling quietly in hopes to calm the aching need to cut into your soft skin, and finally mark you as his. He wasn’t prepared yet. He needed a couple more kills under his belt here, before he went after you. Impulse control, patience. His nerves sang with excitement at the thought that you were so close, so trusting, he could ensnare you now if he let himself. Though his face didn’t twitch, his movements didn’t change, everything stayed smooth and easy, even as he was practically chomping at the bit for the chase. He paused, silence stretching between you two and he watched for signs of fidgeting from you, pleased when it didn’t show. Perhaps even if he couldn’t start the hunt, he could set up the dominos before the fall. “Maybe I could escort you from work, and if you live on the way, to work wouldn’t be an issue either,” he sat farther back against the chair with a feigned look of disinterest. “I couldn’t ask you do that, Tsukishima,” you said, your eyes darting to the side. “Well, you aren’t exactly asking, I’m offering. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing to do it,” he said, his jaw twitching in annoyance. Couldn’t you just accept his generosity? It would make things so much easier for him in the long run. He clenched his teeth, tapping his fingers impatiently along the table as you waffled with your answer. “Let me know when you figure it out,” he sighed, pushing his chair back. “You may be on leave, but some of us are still working. So, I will see you soon, I’m sure.” You bit your lip and once his hand landed on the doorknob, he heard you clear your throat, “Wait! A-alright. You can help me. My first stop on the way from home is the J station. I’m not sure if that’s on your route.” “I will see you in the morning on your first day back, then,” he said, not giving you a chance to talk yourself out of it, leaving you to stew in your confusion as he stepped out the door with a cruel smirk twisting his lips. You were such a trusting and stupid woman. You almost took the fun out of the hunt… almost. He wasn’t sure if instead he was just more excited to have you under him, frozen, eyes wide as you felt helpless while he defiled everything you loved about yourself. He would make you his, carve himself into your body, your skin, and your mind. Nothing would be left untouched, and you would soon forget where you ended, and he began. ---- You trembled as your hand rested on the polished knob of your door. You gulped air into your lungs, even though you tried desperately to keep your breaths deep and calm, they came shallow and fast. You had to do this whether you wanted to or not. Whether your mind was right about the haunting shadows or was merely imagining the heavy stares you felt. Clutching your thermos in your hand tightly, you opened the door with a terrified jerk, as if expecting someone to be waiting on the other side. Maybe they would slash at you with a sharp knife and laugh as your floundered before them. Maybe they would carve your chest to strips as they subdued you and stole you away to a room made for torture and smelled of death. Yet… no one stood waiting and even though you became painfully aware of the fact you were safe in that moment; you still shook as you locked the door behind you. You still looked over your shoulder and chewed at your lip as you carefully walked down the steps to the street. Breathing even now felt far beyond your control while you made your way to the station. The early morning crowd of people; commuters heading to the train, walking to their job, or perhaps going to grab breakfast; jostled around you. Pressing so close it felt claustrophobic but at least you knew in this dense of a group you were safe from danger. Right? Though it was hard to shake the prickle of unease at the back of your neck. You pressed your lips together as you pushed through the turnstile, swiping your card easily. The shaking walls that surrounded you and the heavy sounds of passing trains was almost soothing, it settled your nerves. This environment was comfortable, something you had last seen when you visited Tsukishima and it was as if your brain associated that experience with the station. You wondered if he would truly be waiting for you. Or if you would traverse this part of the journey alone, if you would be forced to play a guessing game at who was a danger and who was innocuous. Who could you trust to meld in with, and who were part of those dangerous shadows that you felt watching your every move? When your platform came into view and the benches along the side flickered between the moving crowd, a familiar lanky profile soothed the frantic beating of your heart. His large hands were curved around a cup of coffee from the café you last met him at, and though he had his head ducked you could see the dangle of a wire from his ear. His fingers tapped along to whatever beat he heard; Tsukishima had met you after all. “You’re here,” you said as you moved to stand in front of him. Apparently, he only had one bud in, since his eyes flicked up immediately at your words and his face twisted into a frown that held a shadow of offence. “I said I would be,” he bent down and picked up something sitting by his foot. In his hand he held another, smaller coffee, and he offered it silently. “Oh… thank you,” you whispered, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth that chased away all the negativity and anxiety from the morning. “Let’s go, the train should be pulling up soon,” he muttered, not once acknowledging the gratitude and that just seemed to make your smile grow. As you took your first tentative sip of the coffee it flooded you with a familiar cheer. Did he remember your drink preference from the one time he picked up your coffee at the shop? Your heart pounded harder, only this time it was for a completely different reason. You felt almost giddy. You silently boarded the train with him, just thankful to have his steadying presence next to you. Maybe you could survive today, maybe if it continued like this not everything would be terrifying, and you would be safe. --- As Kei looked resolutely down at his phone his lips twitched in a tiny smile. Something that was barely a phantom of a curve. You didn’t question how he knew your drink order. You didn’t know that he’d heard you order it multiple times, not just the once. How could you when you were so busy worrying about everything but the one person you should be worried about? On the outside he looked like he was ignoring you, but in reality, it felt like every nerve in his body was painfully away of what you did, when you breathed, and where you were. You were so silent, you were more fidgety than usual, and he could practically feel your anxiety buzzing against his skin. Each stop seemed to make your nerves grow, until it was impossible for him to ignore. So, his head snapped up, his facial features carefully shifting into a thin-lipped scowl, and his hand clapped over yours on the stability pole. “Stop,” he hissed, just loud enough for you to hear. You jumped under his grip, his fingers tightened just barely, and his golden eyes narrowed. He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. Your gaze dropped from him immediately, shame evident in your stance. It frustrated him, that you couldn’t look at him, that you were ashamed of your own fear. Something he had created in you, something that was completely valid, and he would never let you feel embarrassed of an emotion he instilled. “You are fine,” he growled, his voice broaching for no argument and demanding you listen. Your fingers trembled under his, muscles jumped in your body next to his. Yet he didn’t soften, instead he tilted his chin, looked down his nose at you, practically reared up and forced his presence on you. “Say it,” he murmured, his fingers tracing circular patterns softly along the inside of your wrist while his glare steeled. You looked up at him, eyes not quite meeting his and whispered, “I’m fine.” “Now say it again, and mean it,” this time he softened his voice, a soothing praise laced through his words and touch even though his demanding stare never lessened, and he never verbally acknowledged you. Your eye flickered up to meet his, “I am fine.” A smile twitched across his face, “Good girl.” He watched you light up under his words and the desire to laugh, to tuck his fingers under your jaw, almost won him over. Instead, he turned back to his phone, removing his hand from around yours. He wanted to play with you so much, to lead you bit by bit, and yet each time he had to back off. Slowly, frustration was building under his skin, and he felt like his nerves were twitching. Tonight, he’d need to start hunting again. He continued to scroll through the news on his phone, keeping careful note of the highlights surrounding those who didn’t meet his collection’s standards. His eyes skipped over to you, seeing you drink from the coffee he’d brought you while your thermos was strapped down across your bag. He was pleased he’d chosen to pick up something for you, something extra to gain more of your trust. To throw you off your balance, with each little nudge you’d fall over that ledge into his clutches. The ride to work was quiet, filled with air brakes and sliding train doors, low murmurs of passengers and the smell of early morning coffee. It was an easy ride, and even though your eyes still occasionally darted around the train when a particularly large influx of people boarded, you seemed to have calm down. He felt a strange stroke along his ego about being able to control your emotions just by being near you. “Our stop’s next,” he grunted as he looked up at the panel displaying the stations. You glanced up and followed his gaze. He felt your body tense beside him and there was a part of him that wanted to soothe you, just to prove he could. To prove that he was stronger than your anxiety, but he didn’t, and since he, or the thought of him, lurking among the crowd was the reason for your nerves, Kei really wasn’t that upset that he didn’t control you right now. It seemed like every breath you took, every thought running through your mind, already belonged to him. “It’ll be fine,” he sighed, annoyance woven between his words. “Yeah,” you responded, and then whispered so quietly he was certain he wasn’t supposed to hear it, “you’re here after all.” ---- The doors slid open with a woosh of air, you stepped closer with Tsukishima at your back, his silent presence a welcome comfort. Everything about the platform that you had known everyday for the last five years, now seemed like a monster waiting to drag you into a land where only your nightmares existed. You hesitated for a second too long, only moving when the steady pressure of Tsukishima’s broad palm on your back pushed you forward. “Don’t block the doorway,” he breathed, once again irritated. “S-sorry,” you stuttered, stumbling out into the platform, only to be caught by the hand that was pressing insistently against you moments ago. “Idiot,” he sneered, and you blinked up at him with large apologetic eyes. He shook his head and encouraged you to move forward, his firm grip a stabilizing force on your bicep. The two of you quickly made you way through the packed bodies and you unconsciously moved closer to the protection of Tsukishima. He moved without question, without pointing out how ridiculous you probably seemed. By the time, the two of you reached the hospital it felt like your heart had been pounding for hours, like you’d been full out sprinting instead of standing in a train and meandering through a crowd. Your throat was painfully dry, and your tongue felt thick, the anxiety only seeming to grow as your stepped closer and closer to your work. Once the doors were in front of you, your feet froze, and you hovered uncertainly at the entrance. This was different than going for a visit, after passing into the hospital there would be questions and lingering pitying looks. Tsukishima would part ways with you, and you’d be thrown into the deep end with no hope of swimming out of it yourself and no one to cling to as a life preserver. “Coming?” Tsukishima asked, tilting his head at the opened doors and waiting for you impatiently. You sighed, “Yeah, sorry.” He shrugged but continued to stand in the same place until you passed him. It was almost as if he was making sure you kept your end of the bargain. Did he truly care enough for that kind of thought process though? The air brushed your face as the doors slid open and the sterile smell of the ER welcomed you. No traumas were waiting, only the occasional sound of coughing and sniffles from the few non-emergent patients in the lounge broke the eerie silence. You clutched your bag closer to your chest, as you moved forward. Tsukishima cleared his throat behind you, “You’re blocking the doorway again.” He glanced down at you, tilting his chin in annoyance and stepping agilely around your prone form. You blinked up at him, feeling like everything was moving slowly, like your mind was buzzing in a slurry of sticky glue. You smiled, or maybe it was a grimace, either way it was an attempt to put him at ease and you felt from the way he scoffed and turned to walk down the hall to the lounge, that it failed. Everything was too quiet, like tension was slowly building and tightening until it would snap like a distressed string. Until everything would become too loud, too bright, too dangerous again. Like now that you had stepped back into the world it was just waiting to feast upon the paranoia you offered it and then prove every fear you had, right, by dropping more corpses in front of you. Yet, you couldn’t let yourself stand here and stew in the exhaustion and insanity eating at you. So instead, you followed Tsukishima, bag still clutched closely to your person and fingers digging into the fabric as if it could anchor you to safety. All you could do was get through the day. ---- It had been a handful of days, maybe four, maybe five, your calendar was starting to blur together, and you were now questioning what your own eyes told you. If you weren’t careful, you’d find yourself standing in one place staring at your phone for minutes on end, trying to make sense of the useless little pixels that ran your life. The device constantly telling you where to go and what to do, and though honestly a part of you felt resentment that it didn’t understand your confusion and pain, you also were incredibly grateful to it, because without it telling you what to do you were certain by now you’d have found a corner to die in. It may seem morbid to think so little of your own life, but honestly you were just so tired. Being in a constant state of anxiety and suspicion was not helping you with sleep, and the lack of sleep was not helping you control the moods that had decided to run rampant in your mind. There was one bright spot in your day. Tsukishima had now taken to eating lunch with you. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or because he too was seeking out some sort of companionship. Though… it was likely the first one. You weren’t really certain if he was someone who could even feel pity, nor someone who craved companions, there was always the possibility he received something else from your arrangement. You sat across from him, picking listlessly at your sad looking salad. Glaring at the blue cheese that had snuck in between the lettuce, wrinkling your nose in disgust as you removed it and the surrounding leaves. “You’re awfully quiet today,” Tsukishima observed, his eyes not leaving the book in front of him as he took another bite of his strawberry shortcake. “Just tired,” you responded. You sounded it, voice thick and slow, and with each blink of your eyes it was that much harder to keep them open. He hummed, “Did you hear about the new one?” You frowned into your coffee. What cup were you on today? The seventh? God, how could you still think about sleep? “Yeah,” you whispered, the word felt like it was dragged from you. A flash of fear jolted through you, strong enough to cause your fingers to tighten around your mug and your eyes to dart to the door nervously. The memories of your nightmares, of the women who were lost to the world of the living, of the woman you saw, all slipped behind your fluttering eyelids in quick succession. Until you weren’t just gripping your mug, now you were breathing a bit harder, biting your lip hard enough that flesh tore and the tang of iron flooded your tongue. You couldn’t breathe, gasping drily instead. Feeling no air fill your lungs, or perhaps it was, and your body just finally stopped working, finally turned against you. Your nails clawed desperately at the table until two hands weaved around yours, and you glanced up, everything coming back into focus. Tsukishima looked at you with a disapproving frown, a mix between too hot and too cold, something that told you nothing about what he was thinking. It was within his eyes and the anchor of his fingers between yours, that you found your breath again. Tsukishima blinked, he didn’t move, was as steady and strong as always while he waited for the fear to loosen its hold. ---- Some tiny speck of societal understanding in Kei knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the new victim, that whispering of his doll’s existence would send you over the edge again. It always did after all. But he couldn’t help it, the fact he could just say a smattering of words and flip you from exhausted to panicked and then bring you back again with only his touch, made the wait to transform you worthwhile. It was so addicting watching you grasp at him like a chain that kept you tethered to the world instead of slipping off into the stratosphere. And he really couldn’t stop chasing the rush. He tilted his head and carefully crafted his smile to come across as gentle, instead of the hungry grin that was desperate to break through. It was fascinating watching you fall apart while he pushed and prodded from the shadows. He had never done this so covertly to one planned for his collection before. Usually, the torture all started when he had them physically but… perhaps he should change his methods for the truly special ones. When your breathing seemed more under control and hands shook less in his fingers, you gave him a watery smile in return. Kei was sure you meant it to seem reassuring, the fragility and way your lower lip wobbled, made it obvious you needed the reassurance. “What number is that this week?” he asked, calculatingly circling the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. You snorted thickly, “Who knows.” He hummed in agreement. He was careful to only push you over the edge once every few days, but you were plenty adept at doing it yourself now. He checked his phone and narrowed his eyes, withdrawing his hand slowly from yours. “I have to head back,” he commented calmly as he pushed up from his seat. You glanced up, gaze almost frantic when it met his, “See you after work right?” He couldn’t stop the way his grin sharpened just a smidge at the desperate hope in your tone, the fearful glint in your eyes even as he responded, “Of course.” Kei threw a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he left the room, his smirk only growing as the door swung shut behind him. ----

The walk to the station was busy, but uneventful, as usual. By now you shouldn’t be breathing sighs of relief whenever your feet touched down on the train floor. But still the tingling fear only seemed to grow, until it never ebbed, until it only numbed you to its existence because it was a constant. Eventually the numbness washed away into a tsunami of fear because dissociation could only protect you from the pressure of your chronic anxiety for so long. However, your waning vigilance and persistent insomnia had finally eaten away enough of your reserves that you found yourself fighting against sleep as you slumped down in the hard plastic of the chair. Tsukishima’s body heat a welcome reminder that you were safe under his watchful gaze, and perhaps sleeping would be ok. All it took was one second of consideration and the darkness of dreamscape enveloped you. Dragging you down where faceless nightmares and ghoulish imagery haunted the subconscious. ---- Kei didn’t look over at you until he felt the heavy thump of your head fall against his bicep. He rose a brow and glanced to his side where you quietly breathed besides him, face frowning and fingers twitching. Even in the Sandman’s grip you were tortured by thoughts of him. By thoughts of what he could and would do to you. He smiled, the timing was perfect, your guard had been significantly lowered and by some luck which he had drawn and that which you’d lost, he had won your trust. Maybe now would be the time… in the next three days he would finally have his keepsake.

[the-decaying-ramskull]

Mannequin- Part Three

A/N: Please read CW before continuing, this is my darkest work and not for those easily offended. This is part of my contribution to @cyancherub ‘s Wheel of Misfortune collab.

CW: dark content, not sfw, non-con, medical torture, knife play, gun play, drug use, amputation, body horror, horror, minor character death, serial killer, living dolls, stalking, gore, violence, ambiguous ending, abduction, corruption, nightmares, mind break, breath play, dacryphilia, obedience, fear play, fem reader 

Summary: You are a mere secretary in the city’s busiest hospital, however with your current lack of luck you have caught the eye of a serial killer who likes to turn his victims into living dolls. It’s all you can do to survive when you can’t even speak unless he lets you.

---

Part Three: I can give you life with just a single whisper Tsukishima could not believe how lucky he was, you had come to him. No one else had ever created a bond with him on their own. He had always needed to make sure they stayed. That they couldn’t run. When you showed up at the hospital a couple of days before you were supposed to be back, a few hours after he dumped the last body, he couldn’t stop the smirk that wormed its way onto his lips.

You were so stupid. So beautifully fucking naïve. He was going to ruin every innocent part of you. He wanted to see you covered in red, sticky streaks of your own blood as he cut your skin apart. He wanted to watch tears roll over your face and spoil the makeup he’d carefully brush across your cheeks. His hands quivered. You would be worth keeping.

He would destroy the current you, only to keep you immaculate for years as the twisted visage his mind craved. He sat across from you in the doctor’s lounge, drinking tea silently while he watched you practically shake in front of him. Kei’s face was a careful mask of neutral curiosity, something a stranger should express when a coworker drags them out of wrist deep stomach contents and sample collecting.

You hadn’t given him much of a reason, but he could taste the fear rolling off you. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what gruesome little thoughts your mind was spinning, how they tortured you with flickering shadows and imaginary voices. It was funny, he didn’t quite know why you sought solace in him, but he had to bite back a laugh at just how broken your radar for danger was.

He took another sip of his berry laced green tea as he waited for your eyes to stop darting and your fingers to stop quivering. He was patient while you steeped in his presence, and he slowly watched you grow calmer over the minutes. In all these years of hunting for those to add to his collection, Tsukishima Kei had learned one constant above all else, patience truly was a virtue. One worth investing in. ---- You had found your blonde savior quickly enough, once you got the panic under enough control that you could figure out the subway system. It was so easy to forget something you used everyday when the rest of the world was falling apart, your very mind slipping through your frantic grasp like particles of sand. Sand that was counting down what little time you had left, and perhaps what little sanity as well.

He had welcomed you in his usual way, a cold glare and arrogant quirk of his eyebrow. The consistency had soothed your battered heart, reduced it’s panicked beats to a slower, skipping hum. His confidence radiated a calm energy, even if he was somewhat annoyed by your appearance and the fact you were interrupting his work again. But when you looked up at him, you saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes, and you assumed it was the closest thing to softness for Tsukishima Kei you would get.

You stared down at the cooling tea in your hands, watching the way the green water ripple with each of your exhales, “Did you hear about the new… one?”

It was too hard to be more specific, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say body or woman. Both made it all so much more real, so much more horrific. It made you aware that this person who was now dead, had once been living their life just like you were. It made you painfully conscious of the fact that you were just as likely to be next, like any of the women who had become before you. That they had been in your shoes once.

You swallowed drily, once again so desperately parched, and you gulped at the bitter tea in hopes to soothe yourself in more ways than one.

Tsukishima hummed affirmatively, and you were so thankful that he didn’t need you to elaborate. Your thoughts cowering away from the possibility.

“I’m still the coroner on the case,” he said with a sigh of annoyance, as if it should be obvious to you.

You wanted to be affronted with his flippant attitude, but you couldn’t be. If you’d been thinking clearly, you wouldn’t have even asked if he knew. But now… now you questioned everything.

“What happened?” he prompted, you looked up from your hands again and there was no sympathy in his eyes, just curiosity.

At least you knew what to expect with him, you huffed as you glanced off to the side and said, “They called me. From what I can tell they think I fit the killer’s preference for victims. I’m supposed to be more careful.”

Your voice trembled, and eyes warmed, the threat of tears once again pushing against your ducts.

“Hn,” he grunted, and you looked up, for some reason hoping for more. “And why did you come to me?”

That made you freeze, why had you sought him out? You knew on an instinctual level, but it made no logical sense if you were honest with yourself. You didn’t know Tsukishima, he wasn’t good at comfort, but you wanted to be treated as normally as possible, even when speaking about the darkness that had invaded your every breath.

You chewed your lower lip, not noticing the minute widening of his pupils as he watched your white teeth tear into your soft flesh. He cleared his throat, shifting, and you focused back on him, assuming he was annoyed with your silence as you mulled over your answer. “Honestly, I don’t truly know. I do know that you treat me how I want to be treated,” you murmured, feeling an uncomfortable need to squirm as he narrowed his eyes.

“You must be a masochist,” he said nonchalantly, sipping at his tea again.

You let out a sound somewhere between a choke and a squeak and he scoffed, while you vehemently shook your head, coughing against the water invading your trachea.

“Su-ure,” he drawled, eyes sparkling with renewed interest as they roved your face.

“I come back in a couple days,” you wheezed.

Tsukishima frowned, and grunted in acknowledgement again, “So?”

You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face, “I’m scared.”

“Obviously, you’d be amazing levels of stupid if you weren’t,” once again his eyes narrowed, and he leaned his cheek against his knuckles. “Why are you telling me? Usually, people want something with this kind of leading conversation.”

You blinked, honestly you hadn’t thought beyond being in his presence and apparently spilling your guts. Shrugging a shoulder, you cleared your throat and deemed it safe to take the last sip of your tea.

“Honestly, I wasn’t leading you anywhere. I don’t know what I’d even ask for if I was going to,” you said blankly. ---- Perhaps you were stupider than he thought or maybe you were truly just pure and didn’t have a manipulative bone in your body. He shifted again and suppressed a shudder as he felt his cock harden at the possibility. God, he wanted to destroy everything you held dear. He grit his teeth, inhaling quietly in hopes to calm the aching need to cut into your soft skin, and finally mark you as his.

He wasn’t prepared yet. He needed a couple more kills under his belt here, before he went after you. Impulse control, patience. His nerves sang with excitement at the thought that you were so close, so trusting, he could ensnare you now if he let himself. Though his face didn’t twitch, his movements didn’t change, everything stayed smooth and easy, even as he was practically chomping at the bit for the chase.

He paused, silence stretching between you two and he watched for signs of fidgeting from you, pleased when it didn’t show. Perhaps even if he couldn’t start the hunt, he could set up the dominos before the fall.

“Maybe I could escort you from work, and if you live on the way, to work wouldn’t be an issue either,” he sat farther back against the chair with a feigned look of disinterest.

“I couldn’t ask you do that, Tsukishima,” you said, your eyes darting to the side.

“Well, you aren’t exactly asking, I’m offering. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing to do it,” he said, his jaw twitching in annoyance.

Couldn’t you just accept his generosity? It would make things so much easier for him in the long run. He clenched his teeth, tapping his fingers impatiently along the table as you waffled with your answer.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he sighed, pushing his chair back. “You may be on leave, but some of us are still working. So, I will see you soon, I’m sure.”

You bit your lip and once his hand landed on the doorknob, he heard you clear your throat, “Wait! A-alright. You can help me. My first stop on the way from home is the J station. I’m not sure if that’s on your route.”

“I will see you in the morning on your first day back, then,” he said, not giving you a chance to talk yourself out of it, leaving you to stew in your confusion as he stepped out the door with a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

You were such a trusting and stupid woman. You almost took the fun out of the hunt… almost. He wasn’t sure if instead he was just more excited to have you under him, frozen, eyes wide as you felt helpless while he defiled everything you loved about yourself. He would make you his, carve himself into your body, your skin, and your mind. Nothing would be left untouched, and you would soon forget where you ended, and he began.

---- You trembled as your hand rested on the polished knob of your door. You gulped air into your lungs, even though you tried desperately to keep your breaths deep and calm, they came shallow and fast. You had to do this whether you wanted to or not. Whether your mind was right about the haunting shadows or was merely imagining the heavy stares you felt.

Clutching your thermos in your hand tightly, you opened the door with a terrified jerk, as if expecting someone to be waiting on the other side. Maybe they would slash at you with a sharp knife and laugh as your floundered before them. Maybe they would carve your chest to strips as they subdued you and stole you away to a room made for torture and smelled of death.

Yet… no one stood waiting and even though you became painfully aware of the fact you were safe in that moment; you still shook as you locked the door behind you. You still looked over your shoulder and chewed at your lip as you carefully walked down the steps to the street. Breathing even now felt far beyond your control while you made your way to the station.

The early morning crowd of people; commuters heading to the train, walking to their job, or perhaps going to grab breakfast; jostled around you. Pressing so close it felt claustrophobic but at least you knew in this dense of a group you were safe from danger. Right? Though it was hard to shake the prickle of unease at the back of your neck.

You pressed your lips together as you pushed through the turnstile, swiping your card easily. The shaking walls that surrounded you and the heavy sounds of passing trains was almost soothing, it settled your nerves. This environment was comfortable, something you had last seen when you visited Tsukishima and it was as if your brain associated that experience with the station.

You wondered if he would truly be waiting for you. Or if you would traverse this part of the journey alone, if you would be forced to play a guessing game at who was a danger and who was innocuous. Who could you trust to meld in with, and who were part of those dangerous shadows that you felt watching your every move?

When your platform came into view and the benches along the side flickered between the moving crowd, a familiar lanky profile soothed the frantic beating of your heart. His large hands were curved around a cup of coffee from the café you last met him at, and though he had his head ducked you could see the dangle of a wire from his ear. His fingers tapped along to whatever beat he heard; Tsukishima had met you after all.

“You’re here,” you said as you moved to stand in front of him.

Apparently, he only had one bud in, since his eyes flicked up immediately at your words and his face twisted into a frown that held a shadow of offence.

“I said I would be,” he bent down and picked up something sitting by his foot.

In his hand he held another, smaller coffee, and he offered it silently.

“Oh… thank you,” you whispered, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth that chased away all the negativity and anxiety from the morning.

“Let’s go, the train should be pulling up soon,” he muttered, not once acknowledging the gratitude and that just seemed to make your smile grow.

As you took your first tentative sip of the coffee it flooded you with a familiar cheer. Did he remember your drink preference from the one time he picked up your coffee at the shop? Your heart pounded harder, only this time it was for a completely different reason. You felt almost giddy.

You silently boarded the train with him, just thankful to have his steadying presence next to you. Maybe you could survive today, maybe if it continued like this not everything would be terrifying, and you would be safe.

--- As Kei looked resolutely down at his phone his lips twitched in a tiny smile. Something that was barely a phantom of a curve. You didn’t question how he knew your drink order. You didn’t know that he’d heard you order it multiple times, not just the once. How could you when you were so busy worrying about everything but the one person you should be worried about?

On the outside he looked like he was ignoring you, but in reality, it felt like every nerve in his body was painfully away of what you did, when you breathed, and where you were. You were so silent, you were more fidgety than usual, and he could practically feel your anxiety buzzing against his skin.

Each stop seemed to make your nerves grow, until it was impossible for him to ignore. So, his head snapped up, his facial features carefully shifting into a thin-lipped scowl, and his hand clapped over yours on the stability pole.

“Stop,” he hissed, just loud enough for you to hear.

You jumped under his grip, his fingers tightened just barely, and his golden eyes narrowed. He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. Your gaze dropped from him immediately, shame evident in your stance. It frustrated him, that you couldn’t look at him, that you were ashamed of your own fear. Something he had created in you, something that was completely valid, and he would never let you feel embarrassed of an emotion he instilled.

“You are fine,” he growled, his voice broaching for no argument and demanding you listen.

Your fingers trembled under his, muscles jumped in your body next to his. Yet he didn’t soften, instead he tilted his chin, looked down his nose at you, practically reared up and forced his presence on you.

“Say it,” he murmured, his fingers tracing circular patterns softly along the inside of your wrist while his glare steeled.

You looked up at him, eyes not quite meeting his and whispered, “I’m fine.”

“Now say it again, and mean it,” this time he softened his voice, a soothing praise laced through his words and touch even though his demanding stare never lessened, and he never verbally acknowledged you.

Your eye flickered up to meet his, “I am fine.” A smile twitched across his face, “Good girl.”

He watched you light up under his words and the desire to laugh, to tuck his fingers under your jaw, almost won him over. Instead, he turned back to his phone, removing his hand from around yours. He wanted to play with you so much, to lead you bit by bit, and yet each time he had to back off. Slowly, frustration was building under his skin, and he felt like his nerves were twitching. Tonight, he’d need to start hunting again.

He continued to scroll through the news on his phone, keeping careful note of the highlights surrounding those who didn’t meet his collection’s standards. His eyes skipped over to you, seeing you drink from the coffee he’d brought you while your thermos was strapped down across your bag. He was pleased he’d chosen to pick up something for you, something extra to gain more of your trust. To throw you off your balance, with each little nudge you’d fall over that ledge into his clutches.

The ride to work was quiet, filled with air brakes and sliding train doors, low murmurs of passengers and the smell of early morning coffee. It was an easy ride, and even though your eyes still occasionally darted around the train when a particularly large influx of people boarded, you seemed to have calm down. He felt a strange stroke along his ego about being able to control your emotions just by being near you.

“Our stop’s next,” he grunted as he looked up at the panel displaying the stations.

You glanced up and followed his gaze. He felt your body tense beside him and there was a part of him that wanted to soothe you, just to prove he could. To prove that he was stronger than your anxiety, but he didn’t, and since he, or the thought of him, lurking among the crowd was the reason for your nerves, Kei really wasn’t that upset that he didn’t control you right now. It seemed like every breath you took, every thought running through your mind, already belonged to him.

“It’ll be fine,” he sighed, annoyance woven between his words.

“Yeah,” you responded, and then whispered so quietly he was certain he wasn’t supposed to hear it, “you’re here after all.” ---- The doors slid open with a woosh of air, you stepped closer with Tsukishima at your back, his silent presence a welcome comfort. Everything about the platform that you had known everyday for the last five years, now seemed like a monster waiting to drag you into a land where only your nightmares existed. You hesitated for a second too long, only moving when the steady pressure of Tsukishima’s broad palm on your back pushed you forward.

“Don’t block the doorway,” he breathed, once again irritated.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, stumbling out into the platform, only to be caught by the hand that was pressing insistently against you moments ago.

“Idiot,” he sneered, and you blinked up at him with large apologetic eyes.

He shook his head and encouraged you to move forward, his firm grip a stabilizing force on your bicep. The two of you quickly made you way through the packed bodies and you unconsciously moved closer to the protection of Tsukishima. He moved without question, without pointing out how ridiculous you probably seemed.

By the time, the two of you reached the hospital it felt like your heart had been pounding for hours, like you’d been full out sprinting instead of standing in a train and meandering through a crowd. Your throat was painfully dry, and your tongue felt thick, the anxiety only seeming to grow as your stepped closer and closer to your work.

Once the doors were in front of you, your feet froze, and you hovered uncertainly at the entrance. This was different than going for a visit, after passing into the hospital there would be questions and lingering pitying looks. Tsukishima would part ways with you, and you’d be thrown into the deep end with no hope of swimming out of it yourself and no one to cling to as a life preserver.

“Coming?” Tsukishima asked, tilting his head at the opened doors and waiting for you impatiently.

You sighed, “Yeah, sorry.”

He shrugged but continued to stand in the same place until you passed him. It was almost as if he was making sure you kept your end of the bargain. Did he truly care enough for that kind of thought process though?

The air brushed your face as the doors slid open and the sterile smell of the ER welcomed you. No traumas were waiting, only the occasional sound of coughing and sniffles from the few non-emergent patients in the lounge broke the eerie silence. You clutched your bag closer to your chest, as you moved forward.

Tsukishima cleared his throat behind you, “You’re blocking the doorway again.”

He glanced down at you, tilting his chin in annoyance and stepping agilely around your prone form. You blinked up at him, feeling like everything was moving slowly, like your mind was buzzing in a slurry of sticky glue. You smiled, or maybe it was a grimace, either way it was an attempt to put him at ease and you felt from the way he scoffed and turned to walk down the hall to the lounge, that it failed.

Everything was too quiet, like tension was slowly building and tightening until it would snap like a distressed string. Until everything would become too loud, too bright, too dangerous again. Like now that you had stepped back into the world it was just waiting to feast upon the paranoia you offered it and then prove every fear you had, right, by dropping more corpses in front of you.

Yet, you couldn’t let yourself stand here and stew in the exhaustion and insanity eating at you. So instead, you followed Tsukishima, bag still clutched closely to your person and fingers digging into the fabric as if it could anchor you to safety.

All you could do was get through the day. ---- It had been a handful of days, maybe four, maybe five, your calendar was starting to blur together, and you were now questioning what your own eyes told you. If you weren’t careful, you’d find yourself standing in one place staring at your phone for minutes on end, trying to make sense of the useless little pixels that ran your life. The device constantly telling you where to go and what to do, and though honestly a part of you felt resentment that it didn’t understand your confusion and pain, you also were incredibly grateful to it, because without it telling you what to do you were certain by now you’d have found a corner to die in.

It may seem morbid to think so little of your own life, but honestly you were just so tired. Being in a constant state of anxiety and suspicion was not helping you with sleep, and the lack of sleep was not helping you control the moods that had decided to run rampant in your mind.

There was one bright spot in your day. Tsukishima had now taken to eating lunch with you. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or because he too was seeking out some sort of companionship. Though… it was likely the first one. You weren’t really certain if he was someone who could even feel pity, nor someone who craved companions, there was always the possibility he received something else from your arrangement.

You sat across from him, picking listlessly at your sad looking salad. Glaring at the blue cheese that had snuck in between the lettuce, wrinkling your nose in disgust as you removed it and the surrounding leaves.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Tsukishima observed, his eyes not leaving the book in front of him as he took another bite of his strawberry shortcake.

  “Just tired,” you responded.

You sounded it, voice thick and slow, and with each blink of your eyes it was that much harder to keep them open.

He hummed, “Did you hear about the new one?”

You frowned into your coffee. What cup were you on today? The seventh? God, how could you still think about sleep?

“Yeah,” you whispered, the word felt like it was dragged from you.

A flash of fear jolted through you, strong enough to cause your fingers to tighten around your mug and your eyes to dart to the door nervously. The memories of your nightmares, of the women who were lost to the world of the living, of the woman you saw, all slipped behind your fluttering eyelids in quick succession. Until you weren’t just gripping your mug, now you were breathing a bit harder, biting your lip hard enough that flesh tore and the tang of iron flooded your tongue. You couldn’t breathe, gasping drily instead. Feeling no air fill your lungs, or perhaps it was, and your body just finally stopped working, finally turned against you.

Your nails clawed desperately at the table until two hands weaved around yours, and you glanced up, everything coming back into focus. Tsukishima looked at you with a disapproving frown, a mix between too hot and too cold, something that told you nothing about what he was thinking.

It was within his eyes and the anchor of his fingers between yours, that you found your breath again. Tsukishima blinked, he didn’t move, was as steady and strong as always while he waited for the fear to loosen its hold. ----

Some tiny speck of societal understanding in Kei knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the new victim, that whispering of his doll’s existence would send you over the edge again. It always did after all. But he couldn’t help it, the fact he could just say a smattering of words and flip you from exhausted to panicked and then bring you back again with only his touch, made the wait to transform you worthwhile. It was so addicting watching you grasp at him like a chain that kept you tethered to the world instead of slipping off into the stratosphere. And he really couldn’t stop chasing the rush.

He tilted his head and carefully crafted his smile to come across as gentle, instead of the hungry grin that was desperate to break through. It was fascinating watching you fall apart while he pushed and prodded from the shadows. He had never done this so covertly to one planned for his collection before. Usually, the torture all started when he had them physically but… perhaps he should change his methods for the truly special ones.

When your breathing seemed more under control and hands shook less in his fingers, you gave him a watery smile in return. Kei was sure you meant it to seem reassuring, the fragility and way your lower lip wobbled, made it obvious you needed the reassurance.

“What number is that this week?” he asked, calculatingly circling the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand.

You snorted thickly, “Who knows.”

He hummed in agreement. He was careful to only push you over the edge once every few days, but you were plenty adept at doing it yourself now. He checked his phone and narrowed his eyes, withdrawing his hand slowly from yours.

“I have to head back,” he commented calmly as he pushed up from his seat.

You glanced up, gaze almost frantic when it met his, “See you after work right?”

He couldn’t stop the way his grin sharpened just a smidge at the desperate hope in your tone, the fearful glint in your eyes even as he responded, “Of course.”

Kei threw a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he left the room, his smirk only growing as the door swung shut behind him. ----

The walk to the station was busy, but uneventful, as usual. By now you shouldn’t be breathing sighs of relief whenever your feet touched down on the train floor. But still the tingling fear only seemed to grow, until it never ebbed, until it only numbed you to its existence because it was a constant. Eventually the numbness washed away into a tsunami of fear because dissociation could only protect you from the pressure of your chronic anxiety for so long.

However, your waning vigilance and persistent insomnia had finally eaten away enough of your reserves that you found yourself fighting against sleep as you slumped down in the hard plastic of the chair. Tsukishima’s body heat a welcome reminder that you were safe under his watchful gaze, and perhaps sleeping would be ok. All it took was one second of consideration and the darkness of dreamscape enveloped you. Dragging you down where faceless nightmares and ghoulish imagery haunted the subconscious. ---- Kei didn’t look over at you until he felt the heavy thump of your head fall against his bicep. He rose a brow and glanced to his side where you quietly breathed besides him, face frowning and fingers twitching. Even in the Sandman’s grip you were tortured by thoughts of him. By thoughts of what he could and would do to you.

He smiled, the timing was perfect, your guard had been significantly lowered and by some luck which he had drawn and that which you’d lost, he had won your trust. Maybe now would be the time… in the next three days he would finally have his keepsake.

[sery-chan-13]

Déjalos Que Miren

[Niragi Suguru]

Hispanic reader time!!!

Niragi had a jealousy problem. That was obvious to you when you first got to know him.

You met him before the borderlands, knowing him through your mother's company. He had fixed a lot of bugs in a prototype game you were making, letting you two getting get closer. Only problem was the fact you lived in a different country, constantly video calling him, flying to see him, or flying him out to your country.

You couldn't stand being away from him so much, so you made a decision to branch out your company to Japan. Your mother was more than happy to let you do so.

Even before the borderlands, he constantly glared at every man who came to talk to you. Any 'hello' you answered got a huff from him. Not only were you a well know figure, but your body made you very noticeable.

As a Hispanic woman, your tan skin, height, and curves that differentiated you from other women. Most men(and women) would stare at you as you walked by, making you lean into Niragi. You were used to it, but it still made you feel odd and out of place...

After the borderlands however, it got worse.

"Mira, Pinche pendejo! Don't do that shit, he was just saying hi!" You scolded, slapping his shoulder. "Didn't you see how he was looking at you I-"

"Déjalos que miren," you said, shaking your head. You were used to his behavior by now. "No, I'm not-" he started. "Suguru... deja lo... hablamos horita," you said, leaving.

He felt... confused. Were you mad at him? Disappointed?

It wasn't his fault every man at the beach stared at you like a bottle of water in the middle of the desert.

They stared at you like he used to stare at you before you two started dating.

But that was different, he said to himself. Becsuse you used to stare as well.

"And this one of our newer engineers, although he could could be your errand boy if you want him to be," his boss said, laughing at his own words.

He probably thought he was a comedic genius. You raised a brow at the man's boss in front of you, questioning why he would say something like that. Just because he was young didn't mean he was bad at what he did. In fact, he probably knew more than the old man. You just rolled your eyes, making him awkwardly clear his throat.

He looked to be about your age, long, messy, dark hair that was pulled back in a half up half down style, and dark brown eyes that looked at the floor through black framed glasses. He had piercings on his brow, and on his nose.

Cute, he definitely got those to look intimidating, but he was most definitely not.

He seemed... shy, reserved.

"But... he's an engineer. It would be wasting his talent and intelligence to make him an errand boy," you tried to defend the man. "Well, anyways, that's all you needed correct? Tell your mother it was very lovely to see her," his boss said walking off before you said anything else. "Que hijo de la gran puta... Hi, my name is (Y/N) (L/N), what's yours?" You asked, stretching out your hand to shake his. "Niragi Suguru... it's a pleasure to meet you Ms. (L/N)," he introduced, shaking your hand. He wouldn't look you in the eyes, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, making you frown. "Puedes mirarme sabes. You can look at me you know?" you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. And that was the start of a long friendship that turned to you two dating.

You had always told him people were going to look if they were going to look. You were his, and people knew that. He didn't have to worry about you leaving, because you wouldn't; You loved him too much.

Later, he found you sitting by the pool, ignoring the men who kept trying to talk to you. His first instinct was anger, but that's not how he wanted to approach you. He wasn't angry at you, you had done nothing wrong. He glared at them, kneeling besides you. "Suguru! You're back! Que milagro, me estan molestando tanto. Ayuda me un poco?" You begged, so glad he had learned Spanish.

Hey, after hundreds of trips to your country, he had to learn. It is either learn and defend yourself or get made fun of. And not know what people were saying.

He nodded. "Oi, leave her alone,'' he said, standing up. "And why the hell should we? What are you, her boyfriend or something?" One of them said. Obviously, he was new here.

"Yeah, actually, I am. So back the fuck off,'' he stated, grabbing his riffle. "I thought only militals could have guns?" The boy asked, scared. Oh he was not the sharpest tool in the shed....

"Yeah? Your point is?"

"My point is you shouldn't- "

"He's a militant. You're a dumbass. I'd say get to running."

He gulped and ran off.

"Thank you," you said with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Mmm but its so tackyyy~" you whined, looking at yourself in the mirror of the store. "You look good," he said.

"But I hate brands."

"And you love matching."

"Fine. But I want ice cream after this."

Now, while having two very well known figures inside a big brand name store wasn't anything new, it was when they bought matching outfits.

"You're that... uhm game developer and his girlfriend right?" The employee asked. Niragi rolled his eyes, and immediately noticed the guy staring at your chest. "First of all, she's smarter than me, and is a CEO, more than just my girlfriend. Second, her eyes are up here," he scoffed, immediately standing his ground. The employee immediately turned red, apologizing. "Sabes que van a mirrar," you laughed at his protective behavior, running a hand through his hair, and giving him a quick kiss on his forehead. "Let's just go check out," Niragi said blankly, pulling you towards the employee at the register.

He ignored you for a while, letting you talk. Even in the car. Until you got home.

"Listen, I get that you're confident in yourself, but could you sometimes..  I don't know, just... tone it down? Like all these outfits make you stand out..." he muttered.

"Suguru, come on its not a big deal. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating a Hispanic girl. People can't help but stare because I look different," you sighed. You'd gone over this exact same thing over and over. This was not a new phenomenon in this relationship.

A person stared or flirted, you ignored them, Niragi got jealous, he would get pissy with you, you told him off, argument, make up sex.

"Niragi, listen. Ellos asen window shopping tú lo vas a comprar," you said. "And that means?" He questioned. "It means that they will look, but you have it," you comforted. "And just know if you ever tell me to not draw attention to myself, ill find a way to do it. No soy un juguete, o una muñeca para tu vestir."

"I'm sorry."

You looked up from the book you were reading.

"What?"

"I said... I'm- gods you make this so hard... I'm sorry."

He sat on the bed next to you, and grabbed your hand. "It's not your fault people stare. And I'm sorry for being an ass about it," he mumbled. You smiled, putting the book down. "Thank you for apologizing Suguru. It means alot," you said, giving him a quick kiss to his cheek. The timer you had set up went off, telling you it was time to keep going on with your wash day.

He looked up, seeing the plastic bag around your head, and assumed what was going on.

"You want help?"

"Of course."

He helped rinse the conditioner from your head, his fingers massaging your scalp softly.

Small bits of affection that showed you just how much he loved you.

Guys this has been a draft for a year-

Gonna go cry about it.

Mira, Pinche pendejo - Hey, fucking idiot/dumbass (rough translation)

Déjalos que miren - Let them Look

deja lo... hablamos horita - Leave it. We'll talk later.

Que hijo de la gran puta - So this one will sound weird if directly translated, so it roughly would translate to calling him a son of a bitch(rough translation)

Que milagro, me estan molestando tanto. Ayuda me un poco? - What a relief/miracle, they are bothering so much. Help me a bit?

Sabes que van a mirrar - you know they're going to look

No soy un juguete, o una muñeca para tu vestir." - I'm not a toy, or a doll for you to dress

[writing-biting]

Rinse and Repeat

He has a display of screens. Really, more of a wall. A round sort of wall that surrounds him and crowds him into the half-dome he built.

The screens are at the optimal angle for him to see all of them at once and they seem closer than they ought to be.

The videos playing on them vacillate between obnoxiously bright and piercingly dark. When the colors flare, Donnie's air freezes into a cold black, and when the shadows fall his eyes sting and his head spins.

His mouth is dry, and he's not sure if it's from lack of use or from the fact that the water canteen on his desk has been empty for what might have been a day or two. The colors dance in front of his eyes and he closes them, listening to the brilliant crashes of an explosion.

He feels exposed.

A repost of my hurt/comfort oneshot on Ao3, figured I'd post it here too.

Warnings: trauma, sensory issues, canon typical stalking, self destructive behavior, self neglect, cussing (once) and lying.

_____________________________

Rinse and Repeat

He has a display of screens. Really, more of a wall. A round sort of wall that surrounds him and crowds him into the half-dome he built.

The screens are at the optimal angle for him to see all of them at once and they seem closer than they ought to be.

The videos playing on them vacillate between obnoxiously bright and piercingly dark. When the colors flare, Donnie's air freezes into a cold black, and when the shadows fall his eyes sting and his head spins.

His mouth is dry, and he's not sure if it's from lack of use or from the fact that the water canteen on his desk has been empty for what might have been a day or two. The colors dance in front of his eyes and he closes them, listening to the brilliant crashes of an explosion.

He feels exposed.

He knows what he's doing is useless, knows he can't map out plans and strategies with his hands numb from clenching them too tight and his shoulders shaking hard enough to rattle the goggles perched on his head.

His battleshell had long been cast aside, its weight and heat growing uncomfortable in the first few hours. The cold air licking against the scars on his shell aren't any better, and he finds himself attempting to arch away from the air itself. Despite this, he can't seem to find the energy to pick his battleshell off the floor and set the comforting weight back into place.

I'll leave soon, Donnie lied to himself, as soon as I think of something I'll take a break.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to have been something they could have done different, Donnie knows that there has to be something but can't seem to think of anything, anything all.

"Whatcha doing?"

Donnie lurches forward, slamming both his hands on the off button and nearly falling on the ground from the momentum. He manages to catch himself on the desk.

The screens blink out, submerging them into a warm darkness. Yellow light spills through the doorway and silhouettes Leo, who has a hand on his hip and smirk that Donnie can't see but knows is there.

"'Nardo," He hisses. His voice sounds manic even to himself, caught somewhere between a shriek and a whisper. "What do you want?"

"Relax," Leo's voice is practically a purr, smug and self satisfied. "Just wanted to see our genius at work."

"Yes I am a genius, and this genius is BUSY." Donnie tucks himself back into his seat, snatching his battleshell off of the ground as he did so and holding it to his plastron. He waves a dismissive hand in Leo's direction. "Go away."

"No can do, brother of mine. You've been in here for days and Raph's starting to gnaw his fingers off with worry." Leo is standing beside him now, peering up at the darkened screens, wearing an expression that Donnie can't see, let alone read.

"Well, tell him I'm fine then- HEY!" Donnie is far too slow to stop him.

In a single movement, with a single finger, as a result of what was presumably a single thought, Leo pressed the on/off button.

The screens lit up in a dazzling shade of purple, his initial bold and bright in its center. One by one the screen flicked to the scene he had been watching before.

They dance across the screen, their eyes tired and their weapons gleaming. Voices ring out and overlap one another, singing the single scream of hidden terror. Tendrils skate along his shell and the image then shows Leo, quick and determined.

When I tell you, shut the portal.

The portal snaps shut, sending a beautiful blast of multicolored light in every direction.

The scene cuts, and the Kraang is visible. It roars something, a scramble of syllables that Donnie's addled mind knows by heart but won't bother to decipher. The Kraang launches itself at the camera.

Leo's noises of pain fill the little dark room. They, Leo and the Kraang, fly through the dark sky of The Prison Dimension.

It doesn't seem to end, yet is simultaneously no more than a couple of minutes.

Took you long enough.

And with those words, laced with relief and fear and love, the video begins again.

Donnie can feel Leo's gaze on him, so he avoids it. He stares vacantly at the screen, letting the light invade and flash across his vision.

"Donnie?"

He clenches his teeth, his fingers scratch absently at the battleshell on his lap.

"How long have you-? Nevermind." Leo shakes his head and the colors jump across his features. "I'm gonna pick you up, kay D?"

"What!?" Donnie shrieks, jerking around to face Leo, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. He waves a frantic hand at the screen. "I need to, to-"

Leo looks like he's about to laugh, eyes squinted and mouth in an uneven smile. "It'll be here when you get back, c'mon." He hold out his arms either placatingly or threateningly.

Donnie glares at him with as much force as he can muster. "Fine."

Leo scoops him up, the battleshell pressed between their plastrons as a sort of protective barrier between them. The only places Donnie can really feel the touch are his forearms, where Leo's arms are wrapped around his, and his shell.

Leo's hands are flat against the surface of his shell, pressed against the scars. It feels drastically different than the tendrils, his hands a little bit rough to the touch and a little bit cold. His grip is firm and sure, and it's not as all compassing as Raph's touch, but it banishes the phantom touches, though it is uncomfortable in its own way.

Thankfully, it's over quickly.

He's deposited on a couch outside of the lab, his back propped up against the cushion.

His skin feels like it's trying to ripple off of his body.

"Stay there, I'mma gonna make us hot chocolate."

Donnie doesn't answer, preferring to close his eyes and pretend like he doesn't exist. He is distantly aware of his head throbbing.

When the throbbing recedes to a dull ache, he peeks his eyes open and examines the room he was in. He tries to remember when they put a couch there.

With his truly ingenious observation skills, he realizes that it's nighttime and that everyone else is most definitely asleep.

"Leo!"

"Shhshh, you're gonna wake everyone." Leo's cheery voice rings out of the kitchen, something between a shout and a whisper.

"You lied."

"Mwah?" He peeks out of the kitchen for the sheer purpose of pressing an indignant hand to his chest. "I would never."

"Raph isn't gnawing his fingers off, he's sleeping. You approached me under false pretenses!" Donnie hiss-shrieks.

"No, no, no, brother of mine, no!" He comes out of the kitchen with two cups of steaming liquid and forces one into Donnie's hands. "He's gnawing off his fingers with worry, in his sleep, of course."

Donnie grants him the kindest gift of an enraged and furious stare. He attempts to down the hot cocoa in a single swoop of anger, but only manages to burn his tongue. "You treacherous lying bitch."

"That's me." Leo flops onto the couch as floppily as he is able to without spilling his drink.

"You were worried about me!" Donnie whisper-yells indignantly.

Leo gives him an offended look. "I would never."

With a final responding hiss, Donnie goes back to nursing his cup of hot chocolate. "Fine."

[dynamoe]

BACK for the first time since March!

on AO3 | Pro | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 |Ch 4| Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 ...Ch 10

“I’m not hearing any murder yet,” Pete whined, cranky, “You flubbed a spelling bee and your mom was getting some… who cares?” He sipped from his third or fourth Tsingtao. He couldn’t speak Vietnamese like Billy but he could gesture well enough to hold up and point at an empty bottle.

“Did you not hear that this motherfucker threatened me? At THE Magic Pan, it’s nearly sacrilege!” Billy wasn’t matching him beer-for-beer but was definitely sozzled enough to get fight-y.

“False memory. You can’t remember back that far. You can’t remember why you turned the oven on most days.”

“I have an eidetic memory. That’s how I’m a boy genius, dumbass. Perfect recall.”

“Your mom thought you were a genius from all the fluid in your head.”

“Yeah, well, my mother believed in a lot of things that turned out to be bullshit,” Billy spat.

The scar-faced waiter was looking cagey, staring over his shoulder as the card game was breaking up for the night.

“I think they want us to leave. Pay the bill, White”

“No way. You pay the bill.”

“I can’t carry a wallet in these short pants. The pockets are too shallow. It’ll ruin the line”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just… look away for a second.”

“Why?”

Pete unzipped his fly and stuck his hand down the back of his jeans.

“Oh Jesus, REALLY? Why do you still have all your money up THERE?”

REVENGE Professor Peebo Putnam looked over the smoldering husk of his Jaguar XJ.  The (bloody) doors – blown off. Four round headlights burst by the heat of the explosion, the chrome grill curling in on itself. He ran over the asphalt, broken glass crunching under his shoes; to pick up his leaping-cat hood ornament, charred black and blown 50 feet away by the power of the blast. 

His jaw dropped, horrified. Who could have done this to such a beautiful, expensive car? He looked all around him in a panic before locking eyes with young Billy in the back of a Volvo station wagon slowly pulling away.  Peering back under the shadow of long orange bangs, two emotionally-dead, cold eyes— like a doll’s eyes— telegraphed the message: Today the Jag. Tomorrow… you. 

“I’m getting ahead of myself. That was a couple years after we moved, “ present-day Billy explained, trying to reassure White that carnage was coming, but he had to give a little more context.

"Tease tease tease," White mumbled, pulling up his trousers.

Billy and Pete trudged up the hill back to their hotel, just drunk enough to be testy but too tired to actually argue.

“I think there’s still water trapped inside,” Billy said, shaking his robot hand next to his ear, “I’m gonna have to put it in a box of rice overnight.”

“Get back to the revenge story, short stack,” Pete sniped, already winded by the up-and-down pitch of the Seattle streetscape, “Only 28 blocks to walk before we’re back at the hotel.”

Billy scowled, “Ok, fine. So the next couple years were more of the same. Boy Genius tournaments and publicity stunts on the weekend. I started normal kindergarten, first, second grade at the local public school. The school work was way too easy, obviously—”

“GRAPE job!” Pete gave a thumb’s up.

“— but my coordination and motor skills were crap. I even failed ‘hop on one foot’ on my kindergarten report card!”

Pete made a sad face and gave a thumb’s down, “KNOT your best work. See me.”

“And I didn’t know how to talk to other kids in a way they’d understand. ‘Poorly socialized’ they said,” Billy air-quoted with disgust, “Like I was a dog that shat on the carpet and humped the mailman.”

“I’d like to see you hump a mailman. Would you buy him dinner first?” Pete mused, ignored by Billy.

 “After I got a 1600 on SAT when I was 5, my mom convinced the local community college to let me audit classes as long as I didn’t claim credit towards a degree. Then in the summers I got to drive into the City and do a full load of courses at Stuyvesant University which ruled because then I didn’t have to attend mom’s dance classes like I did  the rest of the year. Professor Peebo said—”

“Hey, let’s go in there,” Pete cut him off, pointing at a glass fronted café in an industrial building across the street.

“You want coffee NOW? It’s like… 9 PM.”

“When in Rome, caffeinate as the Romans do, “ Pete shouted back as he jaywalked across four lanes of road. Billy walked up a block  to the nearest crosswalk and followed at his own pace, always respectful of the rules of the road.

The name of the shop was painted in day-glo blobby, swirly kind of lettering that usually indicated a Fruitopia beverage or a Deee-Lite album:

“What the fuck is an 'internet cafe?'” Billy asked out loud before walking in.

Billy knew what a cafe was, of course. Duh. He was ahead of the curve on “internet,” they had a dial-up modem in the trailer. He was a dab hand at USENET forums and a respected commentator on several message board communities. But why bring “cafe” into it.

Billy found Pete waiting in line, studying the menu board, written in the same loopy neo-psychedelic script as the cafe sign.

“There’s a method to my madness” Pete confided “Old people universally can not stay up late. They just conk out right at 7 PM. It’s a law of nature… and thermodynamics, probably.”

“Uh huh,” Billy humored him. At least it might sober them up a little. Even though he had only nursed a couple Tsingtaos over dinner but his undersized volume meant that he was something like 10% alcohol by weight and feeling logy.

“So the later we linger the greater chance that this Strokeface von Powerchair has already turned in for the night by the time we’re back at the hotel. We can put off the confrontation until tomorrow at least.”

“Cowardly AND lazy,” Billy noted, “A perfect plan.”

“I didn’t survive this long with everyone hating me without picking up a few strategies, pally,” Pete winked.

“Coffee gives me the galloping trots, but I'm half in the bag anyway. I'm spending all night over the toilet no matter what. Might as well make it a toss-up over which way I'm facing.”

“You're tired. You always get nasty when you're tired,” Pete dismissed.

He read off the menu board, “Every coffee comes with 60 minutes of in-house internet use on our T-1 connection. Claim an email address on harsh-realm-dot-com for an additional buck.”

“Ooh, I can get my own email address!” Billy brightened.

“You already have one.”

“Yeah but that's, like, '@ prodigy' or '@ CompuServe.' So lame. So suburban.”

“Fuck it. I'll make you an email address. I know how to do that. Easy.”

“Just like you 'make us a website,' like you said you would six months ago.”

“I'm working on it. I need to... set up some permissions… on the DNS.”

“Liar. Did you even buy the domain? Do we own 'e-ConjecturalTechnologies-dot-com' like I asked you to get.”

“I started to but…” Pete struggled to remember, “I think I was mad at you for something and bought 'BillyCanEatThePeanutsOutofMyShit-dot-com' instead.”

“What the fuck! Why would you buy that?”

“I know! I wanted BillyCanEatThePeanutsOutofMyShit-dot-EDU because I'm teachin' classes in it! Up high!” Pete raised his hand for a a high five.

Billy rolled his eyes as they made their way to the front of the line.

The barista leaned over to smile at Billy, “Sweet outfit. You in a band, kid?”

Billy’s suit was barely holding together after the dunk in the fountain, the dash across town and half of his pho landed on his jacket instead in his mouth, His smooth blow-dried mushroom cut to put in "in character" of an 11-year old smarty-pants had dried into weird clumps, center parted. Maybe it gave his whole look the grungy lived-in authenticity of an ironic stage costume.

The barista had enough studs and rings in her face to set off a metal detector just like he did: nose, eyebrow, lip, a dozen rings in each ear and a click in her speech that betrayed at least one ring in the tongue. Those were just the ones from the neck up, Billy's mind boggled but he only smiled back dumbly. He’d like to give HER a pat-down at the airport some time. Before Billy could drunkenly say something to get them both arrested, Pete jumped in, “He's in a ska cover band of AC/DC. He's the Angus Young... Skangus Young.”

The barista looked instantly disgusted.

“You shook me SKAAAAlll night long,” Pete sang.

“Pick it up. Pick it up,” Billy chimed in.

The barista rolled her eyes and took their orders. Pete found them a table while Billy waited for the coffee.

 The cafe room of tables, chairs and a few sofas seemed both industrial and weirdly cosy. A cement floored loft lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves overstuffed with books, but also criss-crossed with extension cords and cables. Something electronic and repetitive played at a low drone over the sound system. 

“Weird place,” Billy scanned the room.

“It’s a collectively-owned community art space for media, activism, the arts and cyber education,” Pete held up a flyer, “They have a printed FAQ on every table.”

“So are they nerds or are they hippies?” Billy straining to categorize the subculture. He saw a bank of inter-wired 286s in a side room with a cluster of geeks engaged in what was either a video game or making spreadsheets.

“Hey, check out the weirdie-beardies in the back,” Pete said, gesturing to two dudes hunched over a tiny table, definitely closer to “homeless vagrant” than “hip slacker” on the spectrum. They scratched their chins in tandem and stared over a chessboard. Each move seemed to take ten minutes of deliberation, the two in their own bubble not even aware of the coffee shop around them.

“Whaddya say I challenge the winner?” Pete asked with a crooked grin, pouring a sixth packet of sugar into his Americano with five shots of espresso.

“Do you even know how to play chess?”

Pete scoffed, “I think the 10,000 logged games of Battle Chess on my 286 would testify that I do. Thank you very much.”

“How many of those games did you finish and how many were you cranking it to the pixel-boobs of the Queen-takes-Knight animation?” Billy said dryly, looking into his mocha.

Pete screwed up his face, but didn't offer a denial.

 Billy laid out the situation, “There are a lot of sub-classes of boy genius—“

“— Ranger, Cleric, Mage, Bard—“

“Don't even start on that Gygax bullshit,” Billy snapped and pressed on with his analysis, “The first thing any boy genius learn up at your first Mathletics Meet-Up or Quiz Bowl Tournament is NEVER fuck with the chess guys,” Billy cautioned.

“Those guys don't look like Boy Genius alumni, Billy,” Pete said, “One of them's wearing a garbage bag as a dress.” One of the players mimed hitting an invisible time clock at the end of his turn.

“They're also using parts from a smashed game of Mousetrap as chess pieces, but this still rule applies,” Billy continued, “Chess guys take all the 'processing power' in their brains, diverting it from basic OS function, and hone it all to one point: Chess.” Billy put it in a metaphor Pete would understand.

“Overclocked,” Pete muttered in fearful admiration.

“The really good ones don't know how a doorknob works but if you enter their arena, you're toast. Worse— if you, by some fluke, you actually take a piece or, god help you, actually win a game, they will freak the fuck out.”

“So...” Pete clarified, “I shouldn't ask for a game?”

“Bold contrasting patterns is how nature says 'don't touch.' As true of the Poison Dart Frog of Guyana as it is for the black and white squares of the chessboard,” Billy mused poetically.

“Poetry slam doesn’t start for another twenty minutes,” Pete said pointing to a chalkboard schedule  on the small stage in the back of the room, “I'm not giving you snaps unless you go through official channels.”

“I totally could do narration for a Nature special though, right?” Billy complimented himself, “Look out, Marty Stouffer!”

“Until they got to the episode on snakes, serpents and spotted seals of the seven seas,” Pete noted, “Finish your damn story already. And there better be carnage.”

“How I got on this old bastard’s bad side,” Billy leaned in, “My mom still was totally gaga over him and followed all of his directives about having me enter trivia contests and science fairs and pageants and shit,”

“Pageants? Boy Genius Pageants, really,” Pete smirked.

“Oh yeah. There were four local circuits and two national ones. Ones that mattered, anyway," Billy sniffed, "They all claimed it was about awarding scholarships and promoting excellence in academic achievement. Total baloney. There was a written test and a Q&A but the cutest kid always won. Oversized glasses with big sparkly eyes, bunny teeth, and perfect hair, prancing around in his adorable bowtie.” Billy grumbled at the memory. 

“Sounds like some scars haven’t healed yet,” Pete noted dryly over the lip of his coffee cup.

“There was absolutely NO REASON for a swimsuit round in a so-called contest of academic achievement," Billy suddenly shouted.

Pete tried to calm him. He reached over the table to lay a hand on his shoulder, "Ssssh ssshhh. You're right, fella. You're absolutely right, but let's keep some proportion in here, pally."

“I was a big-headed fat kid— no way I can rock a speedo,” muttered Billy bitterly, “I looked like… those bad guys in Super Mario.”

“Koopa Troopas,” White pronounced totally accurately, the Nintendo localization team having preemptively removed any “R”s from the name for his accent’s convenience.

“No, those are the turtle guys you jump on. I meant the mushroom-lookin’ ones.”

“Oh, Goombahs.”

“Yeah, that was me. I was a Goombah. 90% head. Spherical body and a mushroom cap of a bowl cut on top,” Billy frowned, “Top three in the trivia, interview and evening wear, but the swimsuit round totally killed my average. I always absolutely dominated the talent competition, too."

“You have always been a man of many talents,” White observed.

“Dig the set up— you got a ton of boy geniuses playing Chopin on the violin. Bo-ring. Like we all didn’t play the violin, right? Then you got some weird ones. Like, bird calls and shadow puppets. Some kid memorized The Constitution and recited it from memory. Plays well with the Texas crowd, I guess,” Billy mused, getting lost in analyzing competition from years ago, “Recitation in general. Poems. Great speeches in History.“

“This coffee is wicked awesome,” said Pete ignoring him, wide-eyed with pupils like pinholes, “I’m gonna get another one. And a Maple Long John.”

“You’ll be bouncing off the walls,” Billy nagged, but Pete was already up from the table.

“Only a half-a-cup. I promise,” Pete reassured Billy as he nearly leapt to the barista counter.

“I never could have gotten away with just reading a poem,” Billy said to himself, “Mom always wanted me to sparkle. Mom wanted me to… DANCE.”

[INSERT: WAVY FULL-SCREEN LAP DISSOLVE TO TRANSITION TO FLASHBACK] Stage directions don’t belong in prose fiction but I’ll writing one in anyway. Deal.

“Maaaaaahhhmmmm,” Li'l Billy droned as he trudged onto stage, “The unitard is too long.” His feet were crammed into what would have been the knees of the spangly bodysuit while its floppy fabric shins and actual feet dragged behind him like a train. The neckline was stretched from Li’l Billy forcing his melon-like head through it, giving him daring décolletage for a 7-year-old, but the lacy cravat of the full costume would cover it.

“Let me see, water-baby,” his mother beckoned him over, “That's an easy fix. Just scrunch them up. See? The leg warmers will cover all this.” she said as she worked the loose spandex up into bunches at his ankles, making him look more like a clipped poodle with pom-pom feet than the cat he was supposed to be embodying.

“Dancching around like an idiot is not a good use of my tremendousch intelligencche,” Li’l Billy griped.

“What have I told you about little boy geniuses who only study science, technology engineering, and mathematics and neglect the arts and humanities?”

“They grow up to be schupervillainsch .”

“...They grow up to be supervillains,” Rose joined, saying it with him, “We need our genius to be well-rounded and be complemented by empathy. The arts teach us to FEEL.”

“I feel like a big schtupid butthead,” Li’l Billy muttered under his breath, tugging at the legs of his catsuit and getting into position.

—

“I'm a kitty,” Li’l Billy whispered to himself in the wings, an elementary school take on method acting to psyche himself up for his cue.

As the kindergarten prodigy on stage bowed after playing Chopin's Étude Op. 25, No. 6 (*snooze*) and was ushered off, the MC announced “Billy Whalen, from Washington DC,” to a round of polite applause.

His backing music started on the sound system as Billy pranced to center stage, did a couple standing leaps, squatting mid-air so his heels nearly touched his butt (a move way harder than it looked; something adult Billy would blame for his creaking joints twenty years later). 

“Preschto!” Li’l Billy sang.

The black velveteen unitard and leg warmers from rehearsal now joined by a sequined tuxedo jacket and frill-fronted dickie and cravat around his neck, finished white gloves and white capezios— the Great White Way’s glitzy interpretation of a black-and-white tuxedo cat.

He is quiet and schmall He is black From the earsch to the tip of his tail He can creep through the tiniescht crack He can walk on the narrowescht rail 

And you'll all schay: Oh! Well I never! Wasch there ever A cat scho clever as magical Mr. Mischtoffeleesch!

Oh! Well I never! Wasch there ever A cat scho clever as magical Mr. Mischtoffeleesch!

After the pageant organizers nixed setting up 200 feet of ramps and track for their tribute to Starlight Express, this number from Cats was the compromise Billy and his mother settled on as his talent.

Master Billy Mistoffelees pointed left and triggered the flash-pot, setting off a small explosion of light and noise and a cloud of silver glitter. He did another standing jump and pointed right— another flash-pot boomed. He removed a rainbow-colored streamer from his pocket and waved it in the air like a rhythmic gymnast as he bounded around the entire stage and into the audience, leaping and spinning: barrel rolls with a few fouetté en tournant for a touch of class.

He stopped in front of the judges' table and fanned a deck of cards. The confused judge pulled out a card, showed it to the audience,  and put it back in the pack while Li’l Billy over-exaggeratedly looked away to sing another chorus of his song. Magical Master Mistoffe-Billy nodded thanks, vocalizing a little “meow,” before climbing back on the stage. He pointed to his right and set off another flash-pot, which might have been overkill as flash-pot fatigue was setting in on the audience.

The recorded music reached a crescendo. The dozens of hidden LEDs in his tuxedo jacket switched on (wiring the circuit into the fabric was Billy’s only solo contribution to the act. He burnt himself twice with the soldering iron.) , turning him into a twinkling star field on the semi-darkened stage. 

The pre-recorded voice of his mother announced:

Ladies and gentlemen I give you the marvelous Magical… Mister…. Mistoffelees!

Billy ramped up into his big finish— a standing backflip into a mid-air twirl landing with his back to the crowd. In the middle of his jacket’s back, outlined in red LEDs was the card— Ace of Diamonds. The crowd exploded in thunderous applause.

(The audience was so impressed they forgot the Judge's card was actually the 11 of Spades.)

 [INSERT: WAVY FULL-SCREEN LAP DISSOLVE BACK TO PRESENT]

“I still lost that year. Second-runner up," Billy remembered, "What a crock of shit! Where else are you going to see a combination of acrobatics, close-up magic and Andrew Lloyd Webber performed by a three-foot-high kid with a 178 IQ? But some precious little darling with a proportionate-sized skull got the crown. Another triumph for unrealistic beauty standards!"

Billy fumed, took a last sip of coffee,“Really, only my mom pushed me to do those live contest things; Putnam didn't care — just laser-focused on getting me on TV. I got a lot of ink in the papers and a few local news ‘And Finally’ pops, but anything less than a feature segment on segment on That’s Incredible or Real People didn’t count to him.”

Pete was still gone, had probably not heard any of the story. Billy couldn't see him in line at the counter and looked around before spotting him across the room in intense negotiation with some guy in an oversized back sweater near the stage. Pete had his “emergency cash roll” already in hand and he looked back at Billy to give a thumb’s up and pointed at the chalkboard announcing the imminent start of the Poetry Slam.

“What’s that fucking moron doing now?” Billy mumbled.

This is the first new chapter since March. I'd like to wrap this story up pretty quickly but I am staying true to my plan to not actually plan ahead and the MO is "more talk, little action."

I'm just declaring this installment #10 to match up with AO3 (which counts the prologue as 1, and splits this chapter across 9 and 10)   

Tumblr crashes when I try to add color (make the whole flashback purple) so I've stopped trying fancy formatting. I've lost this post entirely! What's up, Tumblr?

The (what might possibly be) world's first "internet cafe" opened in Seattle in 1994 — Speakeasy Cafe. The name "Harsh Realm" is a different '90s Seattle in-joke.

I also failed hop on one foot in kindergarten 

I saw Cats when I was 7 and I think I liked it. It was insanely popular in the early 1980s, there were Cats PSAs about smoking and car seats. Revisiting it now as an adult for research... it's kinda dumb and the songs are bad (except Mr. Mistoffelees). Weird coincidence— I did a Christmas portrait commission for a couple who met while playing Mister Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger in the 1990s touring company of Cats

If I'm not careful, this could turn into an endless series of chapters of Li'l Billy's crap childhood and Rose alternately love-bombing and psychologically abusing him. I can't forget the core aim of writing this was scenes of Pete and Billy arguing and insulting each other. The fan base loves Pete and tolerates Billy, but no one likes Li'l Billy (because he looks like a Family Circus kid)

Save your eyes and read this on AO3. Your comments motivate me to keep writing.

[sevs-corner]

Tokyo Rev Scenarios: Serenading Bonten!Koko (Heart on Ice: Rod Wave)

"Kakuchou! Just open it up for a sec!” They whined, continuously pounding on the door that was held closed by three executives of Bonten.

You see, dear reader, their friend was a person to be respected yet feared for their pranks. Even after all these years, they stilled pulled this kind of shit on their closest friends. Of course, this included the gang overlords of Japan- Bonten. I mean, how would they be able to pass to opportunity to display their talents- and cause chaos- for the inner circle of Bonten?

“NO!” Kakuchou, alongside Sanzu and Ran, shouted back at them- actually trying hard to push the ajar door closed.

Right inside the room was another door which led to the office of Mikey, who was currently having a meeting with an important client for their business. Of course, Koko- their monetary adviser- had to be present, as well as Takeomi, his actual adviser.

All their friend wanted was to have a chat with Koko, but knowing them for years- Kakuchou knows that having a chat isn’t just having a chat. He knows that by heart for sure.

And from the current mood of Koko with the dealings, they weren’t going to risk their necks for their friend that simply wanted to mess with him.

‘Hell to the nah.’ Sanzu thought as he placed more force into his shoulders that was trying to push the door with all his might.

The man was literally gritting his teeth while it seemed like they didn’t put any effort at all as they placed the same amount of force on the door but triple of that.

“How the fuck are you keeping this door open?!” Ran complained with his hair, that usually slicked back but was now all over his sweaty forehead.

All they did was huff in response, sneaking their hand past the small opening of the door to point at something, “with this, ya’ numbskulls.”

Right by the lower end of the door, there was a solid gold plaque that was sticking out and holding the ajar which all three males gaped at.

“Where the hell did you get that?!” Kakuchou shouted in concern, finally relenting and giving up on pushing against the door, realizing that they were outplayed right from the very beginning.

They just shrugged, casually walking inside the room of three panting executives on the floor, either wiping the sweat off their foreheads or removing their suit jackets.

“Well,” they began while walking to the water dispenser and giving them a drink to their sweaty asses, “that’s a trade secret of mine.”

Sanzu instantly called them out on their bs, “fuck you! You can't even keep a secret!” Quickly snatching the paper cup from their hand, he downed the water as if was a shot to cool himself off the exercise he unprecedentedly forced to do.

Ran nodded along, using one hand to slightly loosen his tie to fan himself with his other hand, "In all seriousness, where did you even get that from?"

He watched as they took a seat on one of the lounge chairs, reveling in its comfiness as they casually pulls out their phone, "downstairs at the lobby, I was planning to sell it-,"

Kakuchou, once more, shouts in utter disbelief, "sell it?!"

They rolled their eyes and showed the bidding money on the item it accumulated in a couple of minutes, making all three males drop their mouths in shock.

"1 Billion?! For a plaque?" Ran asked, absolutely shookt to the core at the kind of people who bid for the rusty old thing they keep at their lobby to accentuate the feng shui of the building. He, alongside his co-workers, were absolutely flabbergasted.

"That's not even real gold tho?" Sanzu pointed out and their friend merely chuckled whilst shaking their head.

"Correct! Hence," they paused, quickly swiping and tapping on their phone before showing the screen once more to their friends, "the phony scam website I created for people who's broke- like me!" They stated proudly with their nose pointed upward, hands rested on their waist. Their friend laughed haughtily, reveling in their own ingenuity and genius invention.

On the other hand though, all three men dead panned.

Why so- you may ask? It is not definitely not just because of their ego- that's already a given. It's actually because they were the main reason the meeting was going on right now in Mikey's office.

Let me narrate to you the timeline of events currently transpiring in the heads of the executives.

The money that was being wired and transferred to Bonten was being cut short and Koko was pissed. For weeks, day in and day out of the headquarters- he spent all his time and resources into finding why this has all been happening. Until one of their hackers stumbled upon one of their clients account wherein their money is being drained to a company connected to a dark web- based app.

Finally finding a lead, Koko reported this to Mikey who instantly gave him the order of tracking people down related to it. If their business was being drained down because of random website that popped out of nowhere- they are sure to pay them back in kind.

Right back to where they are right now, with Mikey, Koko, and Takeomi meeting with one of their hackers about finally cracking the website's system.

With Ran, Kakuchou, and Sanzu on the other hand, they were about to toss their friend's ass right into the room- damn the consequences afterwards, they didn't give a flying fuck anymore.

'THEY'RE THE REASON WHY I HAD OVERTIME FOR A MONTH?!' Sanzu screamed in his head, still feeling so done with life.

'How didn't we figure this out sooner..?' Same with Kakuchou, he too was simply flabbergasted at this whole reveal.

'Fuck this shit.' Ran thought, silently inching towards the their friend who was trying to calm down from their cackles.

Grabbing them by the collar, he forcefully pulled them through the double wooden doors that would- soon- determine their fate.

"Finally," they threw their hands up in the air in exasperation, "you're bringing me to Koko- took you for 5ever!" They whined, missing the evil glint in his eyes as he creaked open the door and carelessly tossed them into the room.

Landing on their ass cheeks, they groaned and rubbed the sore area. Slowly looking up, they could see their phone in Koko's grip, everyone having a dark look over their faces.

"Oh, hey guys!"

Sadly, they cannot read the room.

"You." Mikey simply called out which made the them stiffen up instantly. Hearing him call her out without any endearment never meant any good news for them. They knew they were screwed.

Badly.

"Yea- yeah? What's up Mikey?" They tried playing it out, standing up and walking closer to his desk.

Motioning to the seat, they quickly sat down with their hands laid on their lap, back as straight as their papa before they were born.

"Do you know this website?" Koko asked, cold hand laid on their shoulder.

"Yes."

"Are you apart of it?"

"Yes."

"As?"

"The admin."

"Ah, I see…"

Hearing his resounding footsteps as he walked away, Mikey stared dead straight in their eyes and trembling form.

'I'm just wearin' my overall! Why the hell is it so cold in here?' They thought to themselves while also thinking for reasons on why they are currently in trouble this time.

"Take it down. Now."

Mikey simply said, the coldness of his voice sending shivers down their spine.

"Sir yes sir!" They salute.

"Right now."

"Yes!"

Hours later and they were on house arrest at the pent house of Koko. They were tasked into getting all of Bonten's money back from their scam website. To be honest, they didn’t know it would get this popular that even the biggest gang in Japan would feel threatened by it.  

Sighing, they slammed their head on the wooden table before them, their hair bun loosening in the process. It was hell, spamming keys and coding on their laptop all day- as well as making calls on the clients who used the website.

'Maybe I'll take a quickie~.' They thought to themselves with a smile, skipping towards the hallways where a toilet was behind one of the doors on their left and right.

Feeling relieved, they thought of an ingenious idea that could- probably- make Koko forgive them.

'A song!' They thought with a lightbulb flashing above their head, 'that's what I'll do to make him like me again.' They hummed to themselves with a smile, instantly thinking of a plan that will win his heart over.

"This is it!" They cheered, hands already swiping on their phone to look for that song.

"Shut up! I'm on the phone!"

"Sorry Koko!"

Koko, finally taking a break after weeks of the internal issue they had, felt like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Getting out of the bath, he took his sweet time in going through self-care routine.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened the door and took a deep breath of the scented candles he had lit earlier up earlier before he went in the bath.

'Nothing can get more relaxing than this-,'

"Speaker bangerz~"

Eye twitching, he could already feel the stress bubbling up inside of him once more as he saw the friend he despised dressed is his loose sweats and hoodie, a gold chain around their neck , Raybanz sunglasses hanging on the tip of their nose, and an old cap Inupi gave to him placed backward on their head.

'For God's sakes- what did I do to deserve this?' He facepalmed and cursed the strings of fates or whatever God had granted him into knowing this embarrassing dumbass.

"Look, uh, look" They began whilst bopping their head,

"Heart been broke so many times I don't know what to believe," they sang as before biting their lip with their eyes closed, a slight body roll included.

Placing a hand on their chest, "Mama say it’s my fault, it's my fault, I wear my heart on my sleeve," then swiping it across their arm.

"Think it's best I put my heart on ice, heart on ice ’cause I can't breathe~" They emphasized with a hand to their neck,

"I'ma put my heart on ice, heart on ice, it's gettin' the best of me…" They walked up and placed a hand on Koko's bare chest, still wet from the bath, and gave him a sad look to which he looked unimpressed by (obviously used to their shenanigans.) Grabbing their hand and tossing it away, they pouted but, nonetheless, continued the verse.

Sitting on the window sill of his room, they rapped their heart out.

"While in the cell with Lil' Hakeem, after I slapped him I had told him

'I don't know how you get down with them clowns but I'm a soldier'

"No one could understand, I had way too much aggression"

"That built over the years from my abandoned adolescence"

They continued, with a heavy breath (slightly lagging behind the beat) to which Koko had to stifle his chuckle at.

"See I done been lied to, backstabbed, and heartbroken"

"I wanted to cry but I was too afraid to open"

"Prayin’ one day I’d find a peace of mind by the ocean," looking out on the view of the city lights that glared at their eyes.

"I spent all my time committing crimes to get closer" placing a hand on the window and doodling a little

"While at my nana house I play at the couch-," they ran to his couch and dived onto it which made Koko jolt in surprise at the noise of their body hitting the leather couch on impact.

"-starin' at the ceiling," flipping around, they mimic their words which made Koko slightly smile at their goofiness.

"Tryin’ not to get in my feelings~"

"Thinkin' of a way I could make these millions" Looking Koko straight in the eyes, he could finally see the genuine emotions swirling in their orbs.

"Maybe that'll take this pain away and clear up all these rainy days, yeah" Jumping up from their laid form, they went back into the chorus.

This time, grabbing Koko's hand and giving him a guilty smile.

"Heart been broke so many times I don't know what to believe" They slowed down the tempo, making Koko raise his brow as the music was now off beat of their singing.

"Mama say it’s my fault, it's my fault, I wear my heart on my sleeve," shaking their head then looking anywhere but on him, they continued,

"Think it's best I put my heart on ice, heart on ice-" Koko grabbed their chin and lifted their head to make eye contact, seeing it glistening

"- 'cause I can't breathe,~" starting to feel their words choke, they forced out the last line,

"I'ma put my heart on ice, heart on ice, it's gettin' the… best of… me…" Unshed tears now at the brink of their eyes, guilt now washing over them as they see how tired and stressed they had made their friends.

Sniffling as all the thoughts began clouding their rationality, they began bawling in Koko's hold.

On the other hand, the Banker of Bonten now too felt the wave of guilt wash over his consciousness, reminiscing how much he had shouted and blamed them for all their doings while they kept their head down, dead silent, the whole time.

'I shouldn't have acted that harshly…' He thought to himself, still trying to sort out his thoughts before impulsively hurting someone close to him again.

"Hey," he breathed out, chin now softly plopped on their head as he pulled their trembling form on his chest, "I acted out of line, I hurt you and…only cared about releasing my stress on you. I'm.. sorry." 

Trying to pull away, they wanted to mumble out apologies- denying his apology. 'Its my fault Koko!' They wanted to scream but was drowned in by the continuous hiccups. But they were kept at his chest, trying to soothe their cries.

"Shh…breath, alright? You're choking on your snot." He teased, cupping their wet cheeks, slightly brushing his thumb over the wet trails.

They pouted, accentuating the softness of their cheeks which tempted the taller male pull at it as if it were mochi.

Mumbling, "I'm sorry too Cookie," they mumbled out, looking like a chipmunk.

Koko's eyes softened at the endearment that was reserved for him and them alone when they want to be genuine with their feelings, he couldn't stop the heart-filled sigh fall from his lips.

"I know Sugar, just…," tapping their cheeks to get their attention, he smiled, "let me know if you need anything, alright?"

They gave a toothy grin of their own, "even money?"

Koko rolled his eyes, hugging them close once more.

"Yeah, even money."

"Fuck yeah- that black card is mine!"

"Oh hell no- that is off-limits."

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Bonus Content!:

A week had passed from that incident and everything was all right in the world once more. They had managed to get every single penny back to Bonten which Koko had treated them to a Boba date for. He was honestly shocked, and proud, of how they pulled all that off- which made it all the more sensible for him to do this,

“Join Bonten.” He spoke, casually twirling his half drank matcha milk tea.

They eyed him for a couple seconds, their brain still buffering his offer. He was one of their friends that always said to stop thinking about those things, that it was a dangerous business for them to be in.

"You said you needed a job right?" He spoke up, looking at them for some time had passed before they could respond.

"Uhm..well," they stammered, taking a sip of their drink before continuing, "yeah, but- didn't you say that it would be too dangerous for me or something?"

The male, sitting opposite of them, hummed in response, "yes, but…"

Nearing his date, who shrunk from his close proximity, he smirked and proposed something more embarrassing (yet heartfeltly true.)

"I'll be your personal bodyguard, alright?"

They rolled their eyes and shoved him away with a finger to his chest. Seeing their red-tinted cheeks and how they avoided eye-contact, Koko chuckled at his scheme.

"With your stick-lookin' ass? Aww hell nah- I'd even rather have Sanzu be my bodyguard!"

"Stick-looking? Pssh- pretty sure you said the opposite last night," chocking on the boba, they had to hack their way out of the situation as people were starting to look at them oddly. Koko, on the other hand, was smugly crossing his arms, a triumphant smile on his face at his clap back.

'I guess watching those american dramas with Kakuchou does have its perks.' He thought to himself, taking note to record the next episodes of 'Keeping up with the Kardashians' to watch after working.

"Koko wtf," they harshly whisper as Koko just chuckled and grabbed their hand, pulling them up and walking out the shop and to his car.

"Where are you takin' me this time?" they grumbled, annoyed with their friend's teasing.

"To our hideout." He said.

"But-,"

"Nope, you're accepting and that's final." Koko interrupted before intertwining their hands and looking past the building they were just in.

"We're all there for you, so don't worry too much about it."

They smiled while tightening their grip in his hold, swinging it slightly in tune with their steps.

"Fine~, I better get some good benefits."

"For you? Only the best."