#I'm only a few chapters in but liking it so far

[afewfantasies]

Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - Visions - VI

COMPLETE MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: The reader extends her stay and Benny confronts her with how he's been feeling. They share their visions of forever before being confronted with unwanted visitors. There are fluffy moments and lots of physical touch.

Word count: 3.4K

He could feel himself getting angry standing at your side. He didn’t think it was possible but hearing you call another man sweet things took him there easily. It was gnawing at him again. How little he had to offer a woman like the one you’d become. The little engagement ring riddled in diamonds was something he could never give you. The wind blows and he tries controlling his temper only to hear the phone slam into the receiver and a few coins falling out. Turning to face him your eyes are all lit up as you chew your bubble gum. 

“We have two more weeks!” You giggle, taking his hands and hopping up and down with excitement. “Think that’s enough time to teach me to ride a Harley?” You ask as Benny’s energy settles.

“Why do you need to learn how to ride a Harley now?” Benny asks, wrapping his arms around you as he turns you to the parking lot.

“Well, my hobbies are much less thrilling” you pop your gum.

Benny smiles, eager to know more. “What are they?”

“My mother’s hobbies, shopping, reading, painting. Silence is the underlying theme.” You jest.

“I’m sure she won’t like you on a bike, your fiancé either” Benny adds fishing for more info on the man.

“Well that’s what friends are for Benny, you keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. We’re on borrowed time so let’s get going so I don’t miss the picnics festivities” you stomp in good spirits. Benny’s smiling at you already indulging outbursts he shouldn’t. 

“What if we blew off the picnic? And just went somewhere just us two?” Benny asks.

“How much money for gas do you have?” You ask handing him a five dollar bill.

“That’ll get us far enough” he comments, pulling out another ten. “This’ll keep us fed” 

“What about if it rains or we need a place to stay?” You ask.

“We can figure it out. You trust me don’t you?” He asks and you find yourself smiling.

“With my life” you confess.

“Why are you so sunny today?” Benny asks, trying to get a hold of his own happiness.

“I get to spend seven more days with my best friend in the entire world who doesn’t expect me to wear stuffy proper clothes, or do anything really but be me and exist. To me that’s as exciting as a brand new shiny Harley is to you.” You explain.

“Now I feel special,” he says sarcastically, only it’s the furthest thing from a lie.

“Benjamin, don’t mock me, I'm being sincere.” you laugh shoving him playfully. Benny grabs your arm pulling you in closer as the two of you laugh.

“Y/N, if it was you or a brand new high performance Harley and unlimited gas. I’d choose you” Benny says.

“Oh wow, I am special. For a bike rider that’s practically wedding vows” you gape genuinely surprised.

“You can’t be surprised, you’re my best friend in the world” he asserts. “You grew up nice, I’d marry you too” Benny says cavalier. He shrugs casually and you laugh.

“Now I know you’re pulling my leg, I see the way you look at my clothes. I know what you and the guys think about my fancy style” you tell him to get on the back of his bike and slide back so he can get on.”

His good humour fades into a serious expression “Not pulling your leg. What’s so hard to believe? You don’t love the other guy and he’d marry you” Benny says and you take a breath closing your eyes. You blank when you try to picture your future with Benny married. He smiles amused that you visualise things in adulthood.

“We both have bikes” he says, starting you off.

“Mhm” you nod motioning for him to keep the visuals coming.

“We live someplace simple but near enough to a shopping mall to feed your habit” he says and you laugh.

You nod some more “Keep going…” 

“And I work at an auto shop or factory. You bake from time to time to make some money.”

Benny continues and you hold out a hand with your eyes till closed moving it from side to side to tell him that part of the vision is so so.

“When do you have time to ride and meet up with the guys?” You ask, opening your eyes and he shrugs.

“Weekends” he proposes.

“This bike is everything to you Benny. Don’t be so quick to give it up for a life of responsibility. We’ve had enough of that” you tell him disregarding his incomplete satirical vision of the future.

“So what your fiancé has more to offer you?” Benny snaps. “Or is an auto mechanic not good enough” he snaps feeling affronted. 

Your brows knit and it takes you a moment to realise it was real for him. You take in enough air to fill your lungs in absolute shock sitting there on his bike. Benny watches as it all comes to you. The revelation hurts, he’d been swimming in confusing feelings for you since he’d laid eyes on you and you hadn't given it a serious thought. He leaves you spinning as he heads in the direction of the outdoor pool to have a smoke and cool off instead of kicking up a fuss.

 Swallowing you look at your feet and then to his bike and then you relax as water comes to your eyes. The thought of hurting Benny is too much. You’d locked up your heart long ago. No expectations, no disappointments. When your fiancé came around it seemed perfect. You’d be tethered to each other out of chosen obligation, not something as fickle as love. He promised to care for you and he would. He’d never have to pretend with you and that there was real love enough. Just not the kind most couples hoped for. The world wasn’t yet ready for him to openly love the man of his choosing and so he opted for a wife that understood and accepted him. Your fiancé was a safe space who ensured that you wouldn’t be the only one playing a role while in public within your society. Pretending to be proper and well off when your humble beginnings suggested otherwise. Getting off the bike you make your way to the pool and find Benny sitting on one of the chairs. He’s gorgeous even when he’s upset. You smile, allowing yourself to see him as more. You sit down beside him and he kills his smoke on the concrete before looking at you with a clenched jaw.

“If you get mad so fast this’ll never work. I’ll wear down your nerves and keep your cigarette pack empty” you tease with a smirk. Benny swallows his own, unable to stay upset with you. “I wasn’t implying you don’t have enough to offer. I was making it clear I don’t expect you to sacrifice your happiness for my comfort” you explain.

“It would make me happy to keep you comfortable” Benny mutters.

“You could work for a bit and then we could save up and buy a mobile home. Huck would give us a truck. We could do something that keeps you on a bike as often as possible.

“That would make you happy?” Benny asks.

“We could drive anywhere, see this country and eventually maybe even the world. An extended adventure. That would make me happy.” you confess allowing yourself a dream.

“Not being a mother?” Benny asks.

“I’d like to live a little first so I can settle down and have something to offer a kid.” You explain. Bennys never heard such a thing. He scratches his head. People got married, got a home and worked until they died to provide for their families. That’s how adulthood had been put to him. “Benny, do you want kids?” You ask.

“Not sure, I mean if it happened I’d be okay with it” he shrugs. “A mobile home?” He asks, looking at you.

“Yeah, cheaper than hotels and motels. You can use it like a tent. A boy from my high school got one he drove all the way down to South America. Said it was life changing” you share.

“That’s what you want?” Benny says being the first to ask. You close your eyes again and you can picture it. Being on the road with Benny for hours. Exploring new places. Taking pictures, laughing, talking by campfires. 

“Yeah” you nod, opening them to him. He draws in a deep breath.

“I don’t know a lick of Spanish” he mumbles.

“We can figure it out,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Doubt your mother will like that”

“She’ll get over it” you shrug again. “Now let’s go to this picnic and have a good time.” You stand holding out a hand for him. Benny takes it, getting up and pulling you into a warm hug. You were his heart beating outside his body. Something he heard Johnny say about his daughter once. Now he finally knew what it really felt like. He gets on the bike first and you follow suit giving him space as he starts up. The running engine starts the motor and Benny settles back in his seat. Taking your hand from his side he pulls your hand to slide you closer to him so you’re body to body before repositioning your hand on his abdomen.

“Comfortable?” He shouts over the sounds of the bike looking back at you.

“Yeah!” You nod before resting your head on his back. He gives your hand a pat feeling like a new man as you pull off. Your mind runs wild at the possibilities and at the physical contact. You can’t help but wonder where all this has come from. Benny declaring his intentions.  He’d always loved you but had it really been more? He’d been in a relationship and you betrothed and there’d been no room in your heart for expectation or disappointment after a lifetime of it one way or another. You’d never really had anyone after you left Benny.  Your fiancé had been a friend turned potential life partner and overall good man. In your bid for normalcy you’d decided to adopt and maybe foster a child that came from a situation like yours. You wouldn’t be a mother but a friend, a safe space for the kids and him. It brought you enough peace. 

The prospect of being with Benny was different. Exciting, terrifying, riveting. Your return had fed your soul in more ways that anyone could ever know. Love had never been in your vision for yourself. You tried it in high school but what your friends described and what you felt were totally different. Pretty dressed and pretending was all it was. After high school you were in a relationship with a guy your mom thought was great. You tried to let yourself fall but it didn’t happen. He was enamoured but you’d always been lukewarm. Smiling on cue, laughing at his jokes and he was none the wiser parading you around like a trinket. Sex was the nail in the relationship's coffin.

You went to the library at a women’s college the next day. A small penis and premature ejaculation were to blame for that god awful first time, in addition to a lack of skill. As you closed that book on sex you closed your heart and mind to the possibilities of love. Your fiancé came into town a few weeks later. The rest was history.

Benny takes his hand from the handles placing one over yours on his stomach. He’d never felt so full in all his years. Tearing through the Chicago roads his mind is fixed on your vision of the future. He’d never ever thought he could travel. Be free of this city. Be with a woman like the one you’d become. You start to hear a party as the cement turns into gravel and eventually dirt roads. There’s cheering at Bennys arrival. You hug a couple of the guys looking for Johnny’s wife Barb. You watch a couple guys on the grill and run around with the kids playing tag and frisbee. A few hours in, you and Barbara walk up the hill to sit in peace.

“Benny can’t keep his eyes off you” she says perceptively. Looking into your drink you smile and she laughs at your blush. “You’re good for him, he looks relaxed every time he sees you’re having fun” she adds. “Hear you two have been hold up in one hotel room”

“It’s not like that” you smile, knocking your knees against hers. “We’ve never fooled around,” you tell her honestly.

“I believe you, Bennys girls aren’t typically so sane” she jokes. You look at the sunset.

You sigh.“The girls say it’s not easy living a vandal”

“Because they love the vandal when they’re supposed to love the man.” She says.

“I love Johnny. He loves the club so I support that. And god does that man love me. Comes home every night unless he’s driving a long hall and works his ass off. He deserves a little partying and some beer every night. If riding around with his friends and sitting at the clubhouse makes him a vandal, so what?” She shrugs.

“Y’all get down here before it gets dark” Johnny shouts from below. You and Barb hold hands talking it slow. By the time you’re down it’s dark and the guys are tending a fire. The kids are asleep in cars and the party is getting started. You sit beside Benny and he wraps an arm around you.

“Alright?” He checks in.

“Yeah you?” 

“Mhm” he nods with eyes on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as he kisses your forehead instead. He’s golden in the hue of the campfire. You look away melting under the heat of being looked at as an object of desire from someone you actually love and admire. It’s an immense pressure. Your heart races and fear wins out, when you remember society’s expectations.

“I’m not a virgin Benny. I know it means a lot to some men so I thought I’d tell you now” you confess looking at him. His eyes hold yours before he smiles a little.

“Neither am I” he shrugs. You hold his gaze relaxing when you see he’s serious and it’s not a point of contention. “What, you thought I'd be upset? You gonna be upset that I’m not either”

“I don't know you could be. You’re a bike rider. I hear how these guys are and I hear you get all the ladies.” You recall.

“I’m not like that. I don’t run through women.” He says. “How about you?”

“It was once and it was terrible but at least it was quick.” You tell him and he frowns.

“Did he have your permission?” He asks with his heart in his stomach.

“Yes but it was … god Benny I’ve never said any of this out loud” you admit feeling bashful.

“It was what?” He asks pulling you in closer.

“Not good, I wanted it to end and him to get off of me and then it was over and he was asking for a few more minutes to make it up and apologising and I was getting dressed to go home.” You confess making Benny chuckle. “Sheesh” he says amused.

“It’s not funny” you say, misunderstanding his laughter.

“No it’s not but it is. Gorgeous as you are poor fool probably got too excited. That’s not how it should be.” Benny says looking down at you. It was a strange thing to be so open with a woman but it was you.

“No?” you ask.

“No,” he affirms.

You sigh not believing him.“I think that’s just for men”

“It’s not ask Barbara,” Benny advises.

“I’m not asking Barbara about her and her husband” you whisper aghast at Bennys suggestion. He chuckles some more and you realise you love to see him smile. “You’re being a terror” you smile getting up and he follows suit, enjoying winding you up now as much as he had as a boy.

“It’s not just enjoyable for men,” he says, pulling you close as you make it to a park bench away from the group. The city is sparkling below as you sit resting your head against his. 

“Tired?”

“Mhm” you nod.

“Let’s head back while you can still ride with me” he says standing. You find Johnny and a few others before  leaving and riding into the night. Benny parks and you get your keys for the hotel stopping when you see two big guys outside your door. You step back into Benny who steps in front of you.

“Y/N Y/LN?” One of the men says.

“Who’s asking?” Benny snaps.

“You have an outstanding debt. I was gonna collect it’s value from your step mothers house but she told me you could give me cold hard cash” the man says looking around Benny at you.

“I don’t have any, the man is dead, leave us alone” you tell him.

“You deal with me” Benny tells them and he scoffs.

“Fancy hotel like this. You have until tomorrow at midnight to clear the debt or I’ll beat one of the kids. Vandal, you know where to find me.” the man says before walking away. You feel your hands trembling. Benny takes the keys letting you in. You’re a kid again. It’s not the first time. Far from the first time men have showed up to collect.

“Even while dead” you sigh and Benny holds you.

“I’ll take care of it. Must’ve missed one” Benny promises.

“Benny it’s extortion, they’ll keep on now they think I’m well off. I can’t believe she sent them here?!” You snap.

“Y/N relax, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Grab a shower and let’s go to sleep.” Benny suggests but just like that you’re too wired. A ball of nerves. A mix of fear and frustration. You sit on the couch and he follows pulling you onto his lap before cradling you like a child. His eyes assure you it’s handled. “Nothings gonna happen to you” he promises as tears fall. He wipes them away, taking on the role of protector like he had so many times before.

“Benny, I'll just take some things to the pawnshop for the cash. I don’t want trouble” you sigh, not wanting it to be bigger than it needs to be.

“I’ll take care of it,” Benny asserts.

“But B-“

“Shhhhhh, I have the cash. I’ll clear the debt” he asserts. You swallow looking up at him wondering how it was that you were so lucky to have him and then find him again. Sitting up you run your fingers through the low sides of his hair. His eyes watch you intently. 

“Thank you” you whisper and he places a kiss on your forehead and the nose.

“You never have to thank me,” he says, not needing it.

“I do Benny, and I love you” you confess. “Like a crazy amount” you say, breathing through your tears. 

“I know, and believe me I love you more” he says.

“Impossible” you smile as he wipes your tears away. Taking your chin he brings your lips to his several times kissing them quickly as he tries adding levity to the situation.

“It’s a fact” he asserts.

“Now go shower first” he whispers and you nod, getting up feeling a little better. You cry in the shower feeling as powerless to your father as you did in childhood. You get in bed as Benny heads to the bathroom. You don’t have to ask him to sleep beside you. He does. Getting in the bed pulling you to him and placing his hand under your silk top is resting skin to skin.  “I’m here okay?”

“Mhm”

“Forever” he promises and you turn to him.

“Forever” you agree. He’d gone from having nothing to everything in a matter of weeks. He never wanted you to worry again. This time your dad’s choices wouldn’t win. He’d save the day and keep. His hand slides up your back as he holds you and your heart beats sync.

Authour's Note:

Ok, ok, ok, so we're moving along. I know this one moved a little quick but it's longer than the typical update. How do we feel about them unthawing for each other? How do we feel about their vision for the future? How do we feel about that ending? Lets get into it!

Thanks for reading lovelies 🩵🩵🩵

TAGS:

@mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring @astrogrande @palomavz @thesaturngurl @peggyao3 @thefallofthedamned @avidreader73

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter three

wutiwant saraunh0ly

❝More awake inside of my dreams, was that really you next to me?

Gimme what I want, who am I supposed to please?

Who am I supposed to please?❞

previous chapter next chapter

You couldn't help but to get absolutely fucking frustrated with Kenma. After so long, the little petty act from him had gotten so deep under your skin. You weren't one to tolerate something so stupid and childish, especially when you were nothing but courteous.

Kenma had somehow caused you to stop refraining from your usual nice manner and instead seemed to have brought a hateful part of you out.

It had all started when you had changed your seat in a class, seemingly nothing right? Wrong.

Apparently, the universe hates you because as you roamed the seating options, choosing once further in the back before class started, you had dangerously realized that Kenma had this class too.

The burning hatred on his face was more than known when you also apparently took his exact same seat. He stood there with his books in hand, now a bored expression on his face as if he was waiting for you to automatically get up.

"There's no assigned seats, find another one." You side eyed him, a cold tone encasing your words. A scrunch of his face was duly noted when he walked across the room, avoiding a seat near you as much as possible.

Somehow, that filled you with excitement, giving the exact same energy back to him as he had been doing to you.

That's what his mean ass gets, you smirked to yourself. However, you couldn't help the hot and cold shiver of excitement that coursed through you. Suddenly, it was extremely hot in the light brown sweater you had picked out today.

Kenma on the other hand, knew that you had this class with him on the first day. From that day forward, he watched you like a hawk. Every movement, every sip from your pink water bottle, every single interaction you'd have with a classmate.

He'd be in the back watching you, unable to take his eyes off the way you were just... you.

He couldn't help but to act like this towards you. You messed his life up from the beginning, knowing who you were even before you guys had properly met. The crosswalk incident never seemed to have crossed your mind when you saw him. It had been in his mind ever since he saw how absolutely beautiful you looked, listening to a song he knew which made you even more attractive in his eyes.

Anyways, deep down you knew that this eventually would not solve anything between you two. You actually had to talk with Kuroo about this now, before it really got too far. That's not something you really wanted to do though.

Class had blown by in a breeze, you couldn't stop staring at the back of Kenma's head as he wrote down notes, doodled a bit in his notebook, and even stretched to avoid cramping.

You were so enthralled with him; you could sense it. You shoved that down to only wanting to be friends and not wanting to fight with your roommate.

"Kuroo, I just feel like Kenma doesn't really like me." You confessed, sitting on the couch at home, wrapped in a blanket.

"Nonsense, Kenma can be ... something, but I'm sure he just hasn't warmed up to you yet." He spoke so surely that maybe you just have imagined the past few interactions with Kenma.

Except... you haven't. Kenma truly was being a dickhead to you, you knew that much.

Kenma on the other hand, knew he was too. He couldn't stand that you actually live with them. Your presence –your scent– was everywhere even if you weren't there at all.

He couldn't bare it anymore. The lustrous thoughts of you filled his mind and he loathed it. He loathed you. But he couldn't help himself when you and Kuroo were out of the apartment, and he took a peek into your room.

He found it girlish and utterly weird to say the least, however, that didn't stop from taking an article of clothing from your dirty hamper. Kenma felt so dirty, so invasive, but he was getting unbelievably hard at the fact you might have worn these the night before.

Your pink and white dotted panties with a pretty bow on them taken by Kenma as a trophy. The dirty act of doing it sent an electrical shock down his spine, he hated you so much, to the point where he craved you so badly.

His hard cock had strained against his underwear and sweatpants he had so often worn. Seeing a dried wet stain on them was the straw that broke the camel's back for him. Kenma's eyes were lidded with lust, knowing that he didn't have nearly enough time to fully please himself with this article of clothing till you or Kuroo came back to the apartment.

You didn't have a clue of any of this, of course, only focused on telling Kuroo to talk to Kenma for you – not wanting him to hate you anymore.

And you definitely left out the bits where you've cussed back at Kenma or sarcastically responded back just because he decided to be an extra asshole like. A recurring memory strikes especially during the Saturday nights where you had made dinner for everyone on the weekends, but he insisted that he was sure it would kill him if he ate it.

"If you say so," You responded, picking at your nails, not having anything else to say or better to do.

"How about you come with me? I was going to go meet up with some friends from high school and I'm pretty sure you'd like to meet them." Kuroo says with a smile, if you hadn't known any better you would think that he was trying to cheer you up from the nonsense that Kenma was on.

"I guess." you sighed, deciding that you'd use this opportunity to make some friends outside of class and get your mind off of Kenma's antics towards you.

It was a brisk walk that you and Kuroo took, catching up on his classes and how he was doing lately since it felt like you both haven't really talked a lot lately.

He was going on about how he has been staying after lectures to help some of his classmates with work they were troubled on. In Kuroo's head, it just seemed like the perfect excuse to help you, and Kenma got along better when he wasn't around. Clearly, so far it has been backfiring.

No matter how many times Kuroo tried to talk some sense into Kenma, obviously knowing how you feel when he acts like such a dickhead to you, he just wouldn't budge. He'd claim that you're the one who is always provoking him.

"Oh, so that's why you've been wearing those so much? I thought you finally realized how well they suit your face but no, you got a compliment from a girl." You rolled your eyes, giggling at how silly Kuroo was sometimes.

"She was cute, okay?" He tried defending himself, knocking on the white apartment door you guys arrived at, blushing ever so slightly at this girl he had class with and occasionally helped her with her work.

Luckily his escape from this conversation was when a man opened the door. He was tall, broad shoulders, and had a funny spiky updo of white-gray hair that had black streaks in it – it didn't look half bad.

However, the most peculiar feature about him wasn't his build, or his hair, not even his clothes, it was eyes. Those eyes... were strange to say the least. Round, stark golden-colored eyes watched you like a hawk – no, like an owl. It was almost eerie how similar you could compare the two together.

He looked attractive and magnetic to be around, you understood why Kuroo was friends with him after all.

"Hey, hey, hey! Kubro!" The man interrupted your thoughts, embracing Kuroo into a man hug.

"Sup bro! How have you and Akaashi been?" Kuroo asked as they broke from the 'bro hug' and the man opened the door wider so you both could enter.

"We're great! Who's this little thing here?" He peered down at you, a wide smile on his face which suited him a lot.

"Hi, I'm Kuroo's roommate. Y/n." You returned a smile back at him, his joyous grin becoming infectious.

"Ah, I remember now. I'm Bokuto, this is my apartment that I share with my boyfriend!" He announced to you, which you nodded to, not really sure what to respond with.

"Kaashi! Come meet Y/n," The man loudly called for, who you were guessing, his lover.

A man emerged from around the corner of the living room, you assumed that's what it was. He was wearing a sweater that suited him nicely matched with a pair of black slacks. He had glasses on, which flattered his angled face very well. If Bokuto was handsome and magnetic then Akaashi was pretty and elegant.

"Kou, you don't have to shout. I can hear. Hello, I'm Keiji Akaashi," He extended his hand to shake yours – something Bokuto hadn't done.

"Hi, nice to meet you." You shook it, being polite and offering a smile.

"Would you like some tea?" You answered yes to the offering, turning away from what Tetsu and Bokuto were talking about and followed Akaashi into the kitchen. It was very homey here, and even smelled great. He put a kettle on and let you choose which kind of tea bag you'd prefer.

You let out a gasp, seeing your favorite tea in the mix, which was cinnamon apple spice. "This one please, I love it so much!" You couldn't help but to gush.

That caught Akaashi's attention, and he immediately turned toward you, a newfound friend he could speak to about tea.

"Tell me about it, I love the after spice it gives." He smiled; it was alluring. It made your mind wander to Kenma and how he'd look when he smiled, not his usual grimace that covered his face when you were around.

After a few mindless minutes of comparing favorite teas and even going so far to discuss different brands the topic switched to something else – or someone else. And that twisted your stomach in knots, however, you weren't too sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"So, you're rooming with Kuroo and Kenma? How has that been?" He sat across from you at the glass table, both holding and sipping the teas.

"Well..." You trailed a bit, slightly chewing the membrane off the inside of your cheek. You didn't really know how to phrase how it was going.

Eventually, you went with your gut and began, "Honestly, living with Kuroo has been a breeze. I've known him since I was in primary school so there are no bumps in the road with him." Not even bringing up Kenma until he just had to ask.

"And Kenma?" He questioned, finding it weird that you had only mentioned Kuroo and not the other roommate you were also living with.

“Uh, it’s been fine, I guess.” You were going to leave it there but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, he’s been really fucking mean. Ever since the day I moved in, it feels like he’s hated my presence and I don’t even know what I did to him.”

“He’s just so infuriating sometimes and can't even bear a simple ‘thank you’ when I try to include him in things or get him his favorite coffee.” You grumbled, letting out more and more of a rant to Akaashi who was just sitting there, looking at you so intently while you spoke. It was as if he was silently urging you to continue.

“Don’t even get me started on the sassy ass remarks he loves to give me on the off chance he’s not trying so hard to avoid me. I’ve tried everything to be his friend and he’s just not budging and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed, finally out with all of the mess that’s been troubling you for the past weeks.

You knew it had to be quite some time that you’ve held all that in since it was the end of September.

“Hm, would you like advice?” He peered down at his now half empty cup, the tea delicious.

You peered up to him, surprised.

“You’d give me advice on how to deal with him?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, yeah. I’ve known Kenma since high school so I ought to at least give you some advice on his antics.” Akaashi explained as if it was desperately obvious.

To you, though, it wasn’t. However, you still nodded him along to tell you what you should do.

“It’s simple, just keep being nice when you can. Kenma can get under peoples skin sometimes but I guess we all have known him so long that it doesn’t really affect us anymore.” He spoke with intent, getting up to put his cup in the sink.

Keep being nice? It sounded like a load of garbage to be completely honest, but Akaashi had known Kenma for a while, along with Bokuto and Kuroo. So, you guess you had no other choice but to follow it. 

Soon, the hang out was over and you exchanged numbers with Bokuto and Akaashi. You enjoyed that you had a nice advocate for you if you needed it – meaning Akaashi, or Keiji as he asked for you to call him.

You felt better about your hardy relationship with Kenma and planned to fix it too. Plus, it was nice to rant about your troubles to someone who listens very well.

They make a great couple; you thought as you and Kuroo walked on the way back to the apartment. The evening chill, flickering lights of streetlamps, and tugging your sweater close to your skin was so dulcetly ephemeral to you.

Your eyes started to lid, yearning for your bed as you couldn't keep up with the conversation of Kuroo telling you about how he and Bokuto met.

"You know, I'm really grateful for you," You suddenly felt sentimental when that left your mouth. Memories of Kuroo and you since you were young fleeted through the front of your mind.

Kuroo turned towards you with a curious look, "I'm exceptionally grateful for you, Y/n."

There wasn't any more talking till you both arrived at the apartment. You wondered in another universe if you and Kuroo had ever been actual siblings instead of found family siblings.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire smau came from @deftrow !! i made the banner

[finneyfinland]

I Think We're Alone Now chapter 2

SUMMARY: Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves adopts 8 children all born on the same day of the same year. 7 of which were soon introduced as the umbrella academy. To you, the umbrella academy was nothing but a man using his power to traumatizes children. You'd know, as you were number 8. The Vampire

WARNINGS: mentions of child torture (experiments). Starvation, body horror (vampire), cannibalism, child abuse, blood, death, murder, childhood trauma (noncon tattooing), nightmares

A/N: Please listen to the warnings, there's gonna be a LOT of blood talk in this one. I'll be calling Victor Vanya but I will also use they/them as to lessen the blow. When the third season comes around we'll switch over dw

As the group follows Five to the kitchen, you try to get a head start on adjusting to Five's usual body, but slightly altered. His body usually was full of carbs and sugar with almost electricity energy shuttering throughout, to help fuel his abilities. This Five was extremely lacking the balance needed to sustain his healthy bodily growth pattern. You walk in tandem beside him before speaking quietly, "Your muscle mass will deplete rapidly if you don't feed yourself soon". He glances up at you in surprise before glaring "where does it look like I'm going?" His response puts a smile on your face as you hum, falling back a few paces to rejoin the rest of the group following behind. It's nice to see that some things don't change.

You stand between Vanya and Allison as you all watch Five run around the kitchen. "What's the date? The exact date." Vanya responds while Five grabs the package of bread, laying two slices upon the cutting board you watched him bring out. "Perfect" Is all Five says. He must have been counting on a certain date. Before you can try to unpack that Luther demands an explanation, trying to intimidate him into answering. Which goes completely ignored by Five. It's hard to focus on the very important interrogation attempt when everyone's heart rates are fluctuating rapidly. You try to listen over the many sounds only you can hear. Five matches Luther's energy before teleporting behind him trying to reach for the cupboards. You find it amusing that he has to use the step stool to reach.

"Where'd you go?" Diego asks looking to the ground. "The future. It's shit, by the way." Five responds as he grabs the sugar and teleports back to the cutting board. "Called it" Klaus exclaims as he raises his hand. "I should've listened to the old man." The way Five pauses his explanation to complement Klaus, and Klaus's immediate flamboyant thanks brings a smile to your face.

As Vanya asks a question you focus on what Five could be making. So far the ingredients are suspiciously close to the 'meals' that you all used to make as kids. The same ones you and Vanya left out for him. Looks like he still loves them.

While you were distracted Five must of said something too snarky for his own good cause Diego shoots out of his seat. You're glad Luther was able to stop him, he just got back and they're already fighting? you thought to yourself. Meanwhile Luther asks Five how much time he spent in the future. "Forty-five years, give or take" as Five's response hit the air your siblings around you sit back in disbelief. For the family it was 20 years at max, to hear that it's been 45 for him shocks you. As the heartbeats of your sibling continue to fluctuate as they struggle to digest the information in front of them Five mentions a 'Dolores' confusing the group even further.

Five grabs the newspaper with father's death on the front page. "Guess I missed the funeral." Luther and Diego seem to still be arguing about the true cause of father's sudden death. The rest of your group ignore the bubbling anger beside them in favor for the mystery that is Five. "Nice to see nothings changed." Five walks off. As he passes you Allison tries to questions him, but Five brushes her off in favor of going upstairs with his sandwich.

As he leaves the rest of your siblings and you are now even more confused. Getting what felt like more questions instead of the answers you all need. The group disperses now all splitting up to take a breather, attempt to take everything in.

With Vanya and Five together in the parlor you change into bulkier clothing to withstand the chill that so commonly is paired with the rain. It's finally time for you and your siblings to hold a mock mourning ceremony back behind the house. You pull on your long black coat to fight the cold. Before heading out you make sure to grab your umbrella that you take everywhere. It's black, with a mesh veil flowing down along all sides for extra coverage. Usually it's for the sun, but it should sustain in actual rain.

With Luther carrying the ashes everyone follows behind. You walk beside Vanya and mom, stopping near Ben's statue. "Did something happen?" Mom asks, her wiring must really be acting up. The question concerns your siblings as they answer her question with confusion. Diego tries to reassure the group but you can tell he doesn't believe his words. Pogo walks out and joins the circle to prompt Luther into starting. As he pours out father's urn the ashes drop onto the ground without any grandeur, leaving the mood awkward instead of remorseful. "Probably would have been better with some wind." Luther says, only digging himself a deeper grave.

As Pogo tries to save the occasion with a speech you couldn't help but be angered by his words. Dad might of been a smart billionaire who gave you eight a home, but that doesn't even begin to make up for his abuse. The ugly side of your thoughts peaking through at such a time as this fills you with shame. You don't think you could meet anyone's eyes. Pogo's words act as pure diesel to the flames within Diego, mirroring yours. As they explode, it doesn't seem to make anyone feel better. When Diego brings forth his number, you feel emotion start to rise from your chest.

As Number Eight you understand Diego's argument personally, even hearing the number being brought up in conversation is enough to send you back to your childhood, nothing but bad memories. It's a weakness you've tried to work through with the multiple therapists you've had over the years.

Diego's last challenge to our father sparks another ugly argument between him and Luther. Sometimes words cut deeper than blades ever could, you find it ironic that Diego of all people toe the line so closely. Arguments like this have always happened in your family, no one was similar enough to truly be close, but everyone was too close feel different, at least in the good way. The differences between you all couldn't be more stark, but the experiences you share could be enough to tie you together. If they could get over themselves anyway.

Luther swings at Diego and all hope for a nice reunion is lost in a second. You grab mom and pull the two of you away from the fighting. Heart rates increase in speed and volume as Vanya tries to get them to stop, being immediately blocked out by Klaus spurring them on. Pogo leaves the group as the brawl gets too close to Ben's statue. "We don't have time for this." Just as Five walks away to return to the house Luther's punch collapses Ben's statue. As the pieces hit the ground it feels like a part of you is shattering along side it. The world stops for a second, before your forced to shift your eyes back, numb and alone.

Ben's been gone for a while, but you haven't quite let he go yet. Both of you were close when he was alive. Seeing the only grace he was given disrespected digs at an old wound.

The moment doesn't last as Diego whips a knife through the air, it clips Luther's arm. Halting the fight as Luther walks off clutching his arm. Vanya moves to confront Diego and a chill rushes up your spine. Not able to dare risk confrontation, another fight would only make you feel worse. You walk back into the house, head low. Wanting the loudness of everyone's heart beats out of your ears, missing your apartment now more than ever.

You collect your bag and make your way to the front doors. It seems the familiar smells and sounds prove to be too much for you. As you open the front doors and step out onto the street the once harsh chill air feels freeing, a dark weight lifted enough to breath unburdened. As you stand on the side walk your brain calls back another old memory of when you left for good all those years ago. I was dumb to think anything would change you think to yourself as the taxi begins your ride back to your quiet apartment.

Although your body has left, your mind is still swimming with anxieties. That's when the itching starts. It burns into your forearm as your rip your sleeve back. When you look down your met with the tattoo you were branded with as a child.

You were the last number, placed almost at the end of the line. You're forced to watch your sibling cling to each other as tears stream down their young faces. As you sit in between Five and Ben their heart beats clue you into their fear. Ben is almost in tears just at the sight of our siblings, while Five tries to put up a brave front. Meanwhile Klaus has been dissociating since Luther sat in the chair first. When you look up you can see Vanya as they stand on the landing of the staircase looking down as we cling to one another. Sometimes you wonder if their happy that they're missing out. But later when you're sleeping over in their room you spot a black marker drawing of an umbrella matching yours on their arm.

Days at home were hard, but at night there was a sliver of peace waiting for you. A secret you've kept to yourself, the dark nights were a comfort only you could have. When the last of your siblings succumbed to sleep they're heart beats would slow, sometimes if you were really lucky they would sync up for a few beats. It would only happen for a second, but when it did, it was like music. All different instruments coming together as one. You were trained to distinguish your siblings heart beats, but when they combined there was no telling who was who. Klaus or Luther, Five or Diego, Vanya or Ben they were indistinguishable. It was only after two or three beats separated that you could tell. You're sure that if you told them about your love for their hearts, they would be weirded out. So you've kept it to yourself. To this day the sounds and patterns of your siblings live inside your brain. Training forever burnt into your skull.

Your thoughts come to a close as the cab stops in front of your complex. As you walk up to your floor you extend your senses to the greater neighborhood around. Searching in vain for your siblings. Surprisingly you find the faintest sound belonging to Five. Two other heart beats foreign to you are with him. Unlocking your door and closing it with a click your hang up your coat and prepare to settle in for the night. Exhausted, your mind is quick to let Five's heart slip into your subconscious. It makes your some nice background noise as you sit on your couch sleep blinks in and out as your own heart rate slows.

Five's however doesn't get the memo. It cuts out, and accelerates to levels harmful to the common human. Your mind is too tired from the long day, but a part of you begs to keep your eyes and ears open. Five's heart only cuts out when he's jumping, and it's happening way too soon. But with how far away he is there's no use in listening any longer. Five's the one who can teleport anyway your brain reasons. As long as his heart doesn't stop, you shouldn't have to worry.

A couple minutes pass and Five jumps out of your reach before flickering back in. See, he's fine you slip in and out of sleep, still calling out to your siblings. Eventually your able to fall into a gentle sleep. Soothed by the hearts of your neighbors, and the cars passing below..

Days are long for a wolf living among sheep. Every passerby is a meal that is practically begging to be devoured. The wolf's life as a sheep doctor is torturous. Can you imagine? A perfectly prepared meal sitting open on a table. The wolf is sure that anyone would understand if they took a bite, after all isn't it the wolf's natural instincts? Why should the wolf have to starve itself as sheep prance around them? Aren't the sheep just asking for a wolf to come along?!

It's pointless for a wolf to hold back, barely surviving isn't enough. When you have an infinite source of food, wouldn't you just dig in. Why hold back? Who's to judge you if you just eat them too? It's not like the sheep ever saw the wolf as anything more than a predator. Proving them right is only natural. It's always been the way of life, hasn't it? Survival of the fittest and all…

You're sweating, limbs aching. You must of fallen asleep on the couch again. There's this loud beating in your ears, it's starting to get on your nerves. Oh wait, it's your heart. No wonder it was so loud. Faintly other hearts join yours through the quiet night until you realize one's different from the rest. It's unique, and it's fast. Too fast. You groan, naps always act like a hard reset. All sorts of questions come to mind. Who am I, where am I, what time is it, hell what day is it? The special heart beat has gotten louder, faster in your ears. Faintly you remember you were listening for this very heart.

As your mind clears it all comes back to you. It's Five's heart. Five's back. His heart is going way too fast to be normal, and it's giving you a headache. You stand with a huff. 'Might as well go check'. You think to yourself as you put your coat and shoes on. The walk to Five's location is interrupted as he jumps away. Luckily you can still hear it. Now that you think about it, you can hear another. Vanya's apartment must be close. How Five managed to find it is beyond you. You sigh and call a cab, you've already walked too long tonight. If you want to hold out until your next feeding day you'll need to hold back on wasting energy.

The ride is easy, and your left in font of Vanya's complex. You'll just have to guess with your ears what floor she's on. As you walk floor to floor you start to hear voices. Five's talking, you must be getting close then. As you step up to the door you breathe in a calming breath. Here goes nothing you knock on the door eight times, a calling card you used to use as kids. The conversation inside halts. Quickly Vanya walks to the door before opening it. When the door opens that's when you can smell it. Fresh food.

As your eyes scan the room for it your eyes land on a injured Five. It's not his blood you can smell though. He has someone, he has someone's limbs. Quickly your mouth fills with saliva. You rip your eyes away to focus on Vanya. Their concerned face meets your stoic one. You smile, "Hey, you left early and I barely got to talk to you today." You hope this will be a decent lie. Luckily for you they fall for it. "Oh right sorry, I just needed a breather." Vanya replies, "Yeah so did I, our siblings are just as loud as ever." As Vanya opens the door further you step in the space. "Is that a new violin bow? Did the old one finally break?" You smile sadly, it was practically a gift from father. "Yeah it couldn't take anymore string repairs." Vanya closes the door before turning to look at the old thing.

Finally you turn to Five "What're you doing here? You smell like blood." Five smirks, "I knew I couldn't hide it from you." he pull out a wrap of newspaper. You can tell by the smell alone that it's flesh. You swallow as he unwraps it. Vanya gasps as he reveals three fingers, still fresh. "I need you to tell me about this person, think you can do it?" Five asks, he cut off fingers for you. He knew you would come and find him.

You clear your throat, "how long since they died?" You can't eat blood from the dead, father found that out the hard way. After 4 hours the blood turns to poison. "About an hour now." Five says casually. Vanya sits down on their couch, turned away as to not see. They've become accustomed over the years to your diet. But the fear that comes with severed parts is normal. It's ordinary.

"Alright" you outstretch you hand palm up. Five steps forward and drops the fingers into you hand. Your eyes lock onto them, it's been awhile since you've eaten body parts. Luckily your stomach can digest whole bones.

With one last breath you lift a finger up to your mouth. The taste is even better than the smell. The blood fills your mouth as your teeth tare the skin and muscle. The flavor is rich, and filling. Your teeth crunch the bones and grind them into nothing. The first goes too fast. As you bring up the second finger you focus on taking in any information you can.

Male, good diet, healthy. Another gulp. Upper 20s to lower 30s. There's a old blood pressure problem. He's taking the proper medication. His bones snap from the pressure of your jaw as the warm nectar of life drips down your throat. Veins burst gushing into your mouth. Lots of stress in daily life. Strict boss, long shifts taking a toll. High heart rate within the last seconds. Another bite and there's a slight after taste. He's had alcohol with the last 12 hours. Drinking irresponsibly on the job. The skin smells of gunpowder. Vastly different locations. A clean office then dirty streets. Steady hands on decline. The muscle is plump, he works out. Not enough at his age, but semi-regularly. The third has passed your lips without you noticing, too hungry. He hates his job, not enough money maybe. Or too many hours, bad coworkers. He's low on the chain, not respected enough.

Your hunger blinds you to the outside world. You lick you hand clean, stomach never truly full. Soon you realize that there's eyes on you. Quickly you straighten up. Your fangs are out, your eyes are probably blown out, you're panting like a dog. You lost track and now you've embarrassed yourself. You meet Five's eyes hesitantly, ashamed. He's smirking at you, that dumb look. It's like he's planned everything out and the pieces are all falling into place. You remember what he used to say, 'I only stand so close because I'm stronger than you'. "Well, what've you got?" Always one to cut to the chase. "Healthy, but an alcoholic. Regretful, angry about his job. Slightly drunk, but got another shift less than 10 hours ago. Works for an office type headquarters, but is low on the chain. A throw away worker. Quickly replaced." You finish as you take out a spare tissue to wipe any leftover blood. Five nods at each point before turning to sit back onto the chair behind him. "Thank you for the plentiful meal." You say as your face wipes clean. Five scowls. You walk around the couch before sitting next to Vanya.

Eventually it gets late, Vanya insists both of you stay until morning. You're quick to accept while Five goes along with it. Vanya brings out blankets for Five and invites you to sleep over in their room. You lay beside Vanya, the same way you used to as kids. They fall asleep and you can hear Five jump away as Vanya's heart slows. You get up from the bed and write them a note. 'Shift at 5 :)' A little white lie. You leave it on their counter before heading back home. Gotta leave before sunlight. Even though you just ate, you didn't bring your umbrella with you.

Tomorrow you'll stop by the house. Peak your head in the door before leaving. You don't want to get too involved, getting close to the family never brings any good.

We're just too destructive.

[tennessoui]

#6, #20, and/or #38 for Road Trip AU my beloved!

ooo thank you for these road trip au (a/b/o dynamics within)!! i will answer them all and then just write a few paragraphs for one :D

6. Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

ok what an interesting question for road trip au cause you know they've probably thought loosely about how one of them should move out because they're too attached and this is gonna end in heartbreak

but like the moment the other one is like 'hey let's resign the lease together forever and ever', the first one is like 'yeah of ocurse lets do it. best friend roommates for life.'

but in the hypothetical next chapter for the fic, it's anakin that goes into rut and then refuses to let obi-wan be in the room with him for his safety and to try and respect obi-wan's wishes - and obi-wan definitely irrationally feels like this means anakin has left/doesn't want him at all anymore

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

oooo the "you are my sunshine" song but when they hear it/sing it, they're both convinced the other one is the "you"

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

i think there's a moment in the fic/christmas fic where obi-wan mentions a hot professor flying into town and meeting up for some casual bdsm (which he never would have agreed to if he knew at the same time anakin was meeting jezebel) so i feel like obi-wan's more sexually experimental. he can separate his instincts from every day life super well (for everyone but anakin ofc). i'm sure anakin has done his own experimenting with kinks and such but you'd never know he likes to toss people around for how gently he places obi-wan in the bed lol

and for the writing! 20. what's their song (feat some post-get together fluff):

Obi-Wan wakes blearily to the feeling of the mattress shifting beneath him, the weighted blanket of Anakin's arm moving away. He lets out a noise of protest, though it's not nearly as indignant as he intends, residual sleepiness stealing the edge of his irritation.

"Hush," Anakin murmurs, hand carding gently through his hair as he pulls away. "I heard her shifting around on the monitor, she's about to wake up."

The worst part is, the alpha sounds downright chipper about it, as if their infant's fussy sleeps are like little tiny miracles or unexpected snow days that cancel school.

Obi-Wan grunts and rolls over into Anakin's warm spot. If Anakin wants to get up this time, then he's not going to complain. If Anakin wants to get up every time, in fact, Obi-Wan isn't going to complain. Obi-Wan's worked night shifts most of his adult life. On parental leave with a partner willing and eager to get up in the middle of the night to feed his daughter, to change his daughter, to cuddle his daughter back to sleep, Obi-Wan's not getting up for anything.

The apartment is quiet and still, the only sounds being the faint shifting noises coming from the baby monitor as his daughter fusses herself awake. Obi-Wan rolls his head to the side and squints at the digital clock on Anakin's side of the bed. 2:12.

Later than usual, but still far too damn early. He rolls back to look at the ceiling, trying to convince his body to relax back into the sleep he so desperately needs, even though he knows it's already a lost cause. After six months sleeping beside Anakin Skywalker, he can't sleep alone. He's forgotten how.

When the baby monitor crackles alive with the sound of Anakin's croons, just a moment before his daughter's first shrill cry, Obi-Wan sits up and slips his feet into the slippers by his bed. He knows what comes next, and suddenly he does not want to miss this.

By the time he convinces his old bones and sore body to walk from the warmth and comfort of Anakin's (and now his too) bedroom to the nursery--Obi-Wan's old room--Anakin has picked up his daughter and has begun to pace around the room. He's already on the second verse.

"When I awoke dear, I was mistaken," his alpha murmur-sings, large hand completely engulfing the back of her head as he sways in place. Her cries have dropped to steady whimpers. "So I hung my head and cried."

Obi-Wan leans against the open door and looks at them. It's with a kernel of satisfaction that he thinks that he'd been right. Anakin was made to be a father. He was so good at it. So beautiful with his baby in his arms, expression soft and open and vulnerable and so sweet that Obi-Wan almost thinks that perhaps he's not supposed to be looking at this. Even though she's his daughter, and he's his alpha.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Anakin sings, with such wonder in his tone that Obi-Wan pushes off the doorway and enters the room just to be closer to him. His presence seems to take Anakin by surprise, because the alpha blinks at him before frowning lightly, running his hand over the top of her head as he takes in Obi-Wan's presence. "You're supposed to be asleep, baby."

"I named her after that song, you know," Obi-Wan murmurs, stepping forward until he can run a finger down her soft cheek. He rests his chin on Anakin's shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Rey, like ray of sunshine."

"Oh," Anakin says. "No, I didn't know that."

"Because you used to sing me that song," Obi-Wan adds, turning and pressing his lips to the bare skin of Anakin's neck. "When I was exhausted from work or sick or you thought I was asleep."

"I definitely thought you were asleep," Anakin says, eyes falling back to his baby. She's gone back to sleep. Little Rey Kenobi-Skywalker, curled up on her father's chest and fast asleep as if she'd never fussed at all.

"I used to hear that song and think about you," Obi-Wan admits. "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you..."

"That's funny, sweetheart," Anakin replies, turning towards him so that the baby is kept safely between their bodies and Anakin can look at him with dark eyes. "Cause I used to sing that to you and mean every word."

[eldritchamy]

Hi, its the former Feralist again.

The worldbuilding just really struck a raw nerve on first glance? On second glance it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought but it STILL infuriates me on a couple of points, mostly in implications that people failed to think through. I've calmed down about it, because it IS just kink, but there are parts of the worldbuilding that I still cannot touch without being viscerally upset.

(I could get into depth if you want, but once again, it is just kink; I don't expect kink writers to think about every last implication of their worldbuilding.)

Anyway, I am currently reading my way through Abscission, which is helping somewhat with certain things that upset me wrt disability and stuff. I'm really excited to read your suggestions!

Signed, A (Formerly) Committed Feralist

(P.S. *specific* things... What appeals to me wrt inevitability in D/s is less "I can MAKE you submit whether you want to or not" and more "We both know you'll submit, because we both know that you *want* me to dominate you", which is not always the vibe in HDG. Sometimes it is, though! And that's why I'm still here! Also that little bit near the end of Grand Folia where Celosia says something along the lines of "Its not that I'm an Affini and you're a terran and I'm better and you're lesser. Its that I would ALWAYS find you - in any time, in any place, in any form - because you ARE mine" really REALLY fucking got me.)

(P.P.S. I may have written a few hundred words of a fic about an Affini playing a convoluted game of cat and mouse with a cute, awkward, evasive little terran who may or may not be a feralist spy. The Affini can't make up her mind, because every time she catches her at something suspicious, there's always a perfectly plausible explanation! Its gonna drive her absolutely NUTS.)

It sounds like you're more into dubcon than noncon. On one hand, this is the noncon intox kink petplay bdsm scifi setting, so a certain amount of noncon is pretty baked into the world at a systematic level that you're either okay with or you aren't.

But on the bright side, there ARE fluffier options that skew more in the direction of what I think you're looking for, because the setting ALSO heavily features things like hurt/comfort, recovering from trauma, learning how to love yourself, and accepting that you deserve to BE loved and cared for by others.

Abscission is a really good one for a protagonist that consistently and very insistently reaffirms their consent at all times. Autumn is very sure about what she wants and frankly spends a lot of time bullying Solanum about not being afraid to give it to her.

From what you're saying, I think you would really like a newer story that's only 3 chapters in called Good Sensory. The tl;dr is that there's an independent human who's too ace and autistic to feel comfortable around most Affini (who tend to be very flirty and touchy and she can't stand a lot of their textures), and an Affini who is ALSO really ace and autistic instantly wants to give her the world. The Affini is VERY sensitive, patient, and accommodating with her neurodivergence and goes out of her way to be very direct about her feelings and intentions.

Marsha (the affini) literally has this internal monologue about Sally (the human): "I admittedly could twist her mind and dull her dislike of certain sensations, but it would be far more satisfying to simply alter her life such that she never experienced them in the first place."

The story was written basically in honor of how much the author (a very autistic woman) loves her very autistic partners, and the joy of giving them experiences that are comfortable for them.

In particular, I think you will REALLY like their first date in chapter 2, which is one of the most gentle and accommodating scenes I have read for all of HDG so far. It's SO sweet.

Someone in the server actually just collected a list of recommended fics that skew much more on the consensual side. NOTE THAT I HAVE NOT READ MOST OF THESE AND CANNOT PERSONALLY VOUCH FOR THEM.

Intake Interview Wild and Domestic Child of the Wilderness How To Tame A Polycule Fermata Art Exhibition Flotsam Heart Cross Pollination Surrogate Bloom Sycanthe Lantana Alone in the Dark, Together Germination Reading the Leaves Nurture and Acquisitions Perturbance A Normal Grocery Run During Which No Domestication Occurs No Gods No Masters (the primary storyline anyway) Hers to Have, Hers to Hold Petals and Vines Weeklong Stay at a J-Cafe (edited)

I AM currently about halfway through Petals and Vines and can absolutely confirm it's one of the cutest stories in the setting so far. I'm loving every minute of it. 500/10 adorable. Millie is everything, she is the light of my life and I would die for her. She's approaching DAWN levels of cute. DAWN LEVELS.

I would also add to this list:

Inosculate by SapphicSounds (the affini refuses to do ANYTHING with the protagonist until she explicitly asks for it)

Through The Looking Glass by PyxxieStyxx and TheMothCourt (the protagonist does get embarrassed/humiliated quite a bit, but she is VERY INTO IT and is given ample opportunity to back out or revoke her consent at any time, which she never does because she is having the time of her newly lesbian life right now)

I WOULD caution you against writing for the setting if you have mixed feelings about the worldbuilding, and especially if you haven't read some of the most foundational works of the setting like the original, Abscission, Divaricated, For A Better Universe, and a couple others. You should also familiarize yourself with the Rules and Axioms for the setting, as they're important for how the community functions as a creative space.

(The point is not taking things we like OUT of the sandbox to play with, it's bringing something of our own INTO the sandbox so we can play TOGETHER. But we play NICE in that sandbox, because we want the people who play in it after us to have that same joy we did. If your goal is to CHANGE something about the setting, then you're not playing the same game as everyone else in the sandbox.)

I'm pretty confident at this point that I have a good feel for the lore, vibe, and mechanics of the setting to comfortably start writing for it, but even I'm still holding off because there are some other Big Foundational Stories (Divaricated, Wellness Check, No Gods No Masters, probably Nurture and Acquisitions) that I want to experience and understand first, because when I'm ready to start contributing, I want to make sure I do it right.

Also, there actually IS a story literally CALLED Cat And Mouse, and it's one of the top 10 stories in the setting (sorted for Kudos on AO3). I cannot personally vouch for it because I haven't read it and don't know anything about it beyond that it's a Predator/Prey dynamic, but it has the same author as Good Sensory and her stories (though incredibly varied, tone wise) haven't let me down yet. Sheepwave is a very evocative writer and whatever kind of mood she's going for her in her stories, you're gonna REALLY feel that mood.

Sweet Poppy (one of her more famous stories) is a blood curdling psychological horror story. I am terrified of Poppy. She's easily the scariest Affini I've read yet. That's a HARD story to read if you can't stomach it, but it's very well done. It's the kind of story that you can't stop reading and ALSO it makes you sick to your stomach.

The only other story I've read from the setting so far that filled me with anywhere near that kind of nauseating dread was Independence Is Easy by SapphicSounds. If you're REALLY into doll kink, you might love it, but if you're not, it's absolutely a horror story. I don't regret reading it, but I was definitely way more into the first half than the second half. The protagonist DEFINITELY needed to be domesticated, but not by this specific Affini. I've seen lots of people be REALLY obsessed with it, but based on what I can gather from your tastes, I would NOT recommend this one to you.

In regards to the worldbuilding, the main thing to remember is that HDG is at its core a WILDLY SELF-INDULGENT kink setting where the most immutable aspect is that everyone deserves to be loved and cared for and given a better life. It was made by gay auDHD trans women FOR gay auDHD trans women, and the real fantasy is just that there will always be someone there who loves us unconditionally while accepting us for our truest selves and telling us that we deserve to not hurt anymore. All of the scifi worldbuilding exists to supplement that. The Affini are overpowered by design.

It's not intended to be realistic, it's intended to be wish fulfilment where inevitability is coming for you, and that inevitability is kind, and loving, and PROFOUNDLY horny.

[after-witch]

It's easy to trust a beautiful thing, to let yourself go deeper and deeper until you take a breath and realize the oxygen has been all sucked out and you're suffocating.

--Tori Bovalino, My Throat An Open Grave

[seriousturd]

Shhh they’re sleeping

[every-sanji]

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[weirdcharacter]

Me seeing Wade Wilson (masked): Such a pretty guy

Me seeing Wade Wilson (partially/ entierely unmasked): So fucking pretty

[pigeonclaw]

I forgot to make a post about it til now, but in Onestar's Confession, Tallstar going to the Moonstone to confirm Crowpaw's story and being told by StarClan "yeah he's right, you'll never get your home back so you need to leave" makes me even more exasperated at the plot of Midnight. Already that book baffles me in hindsight because I misremembered it for years — I believed that the journey to Midnight was to not only strengthen bonds between cats of each Clan to help everyone work together, but also to point them in the right direction of a new home because the lake was so far outside StarClan's sight that the Clans needed an outside source of information.

Turns out I was wrong. The whole journey was just so Midnight could tell them to leave their home, and they had to figure out where to go entirely on their own. (Sure they had a shooting star help them out but it's not like StarClan couldn't have predicted that too.) But if we have confirmation by this point (also confirmed in Shadowstar's Life) that StarClan already knew they had to leave, then what was the point of all that??? All they really accomplished was stalling the great journey for multiple books and letting a bunch of cats suffer and die needlessly. I don't agree with the idea a lot of people have that StarClan and all these characters should simply (and uncharacteristically) work together and flawlessly avoid conflict, I like conflict, but I want a reason for it. The case of Midnight is just so unfortunate. It's such a mess that could have so easily been streamlined into something that makes more sense, but it just... wasn't.

[ritterdoodles]

Finally forced myself to read Dungeon Meshi, I really wish I started reading it sooner but I guess there's no better time than the present weeh

[flavia8]

Just finished reading Horimiya.... it was such a slog XD

It started off alright, but around the halfway mark it dropped A LOT in quality. There's so many dropped plot threads, the pacing is wonky, the character development is lacking. LIke I genuinely wanted to quit reading it and the only reason I didn't was bc a friend recommended it to me. I cannot say I'd ever recommend it to anyone. It sucks bc it was a genuinely sweet and funny drama/romance/slice of life but then it got so boring! The characters got so stagnant and nothing really happened to progress anyone's development after a certain point at all? So many things were introduced and then dropped, never to be mentioned again. People may be like oh it just became a slice of life, so thats why it has no plot after a certain point. However, that excuse is hollow because slice of life stuff does have plots, simple ones yes but they do have them. It's like the series cannibalized itself. The characters lost dimension and stuff repeated over and over. Almost nothing got truly resolved. It was so annoying to read.

[unityrain24]

just reread two or three chapters from convalescence as a bedtime story... haven't even opened that doc in months lol..

[buckera]

currently trying to work out the logistics of the mudslide fic, editing, titles, posting dates, etc and I'm kind of just realising how I haven't posted a multichapter fic in ages, also that I never posted anything this long before...