#and eventually they agreed to stop it altogether because they wanted their whole focus to be each other (+ their son)

[multishipper-baby]

Random thought but I do imagine that Owynn and Eak occasionally saw other people over the years, especially when their relationship was going through a rough patch. I don't think they ever considered their relationship to be open, it just sort of... Became an unspoken agreement between them.

[lufyuu]

''River's Quest..?,,

Protagonist Oc [River!] x Bottom male Reader

Part 2! Part 1

Tw/s: overstimulation, rough rough sex, face fucking, dacryphilia, hair grabbing/pulling, jealous River, public sex, almost caught, a bit of degration, a bit of praising, a bit of edging.

[Loading...]

[System]

—Quest started—

`Click here for details`

Recently, you've made a new friend and River's been pouty about it even if you dont know the reason behind his poutiness. Not only that, he had become even more clingy than before, where ever you went, he was always not too far behind, making you feel a bit suffocated. It all started not too long ago. How you met your new friend, that is.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Hey can we be partners?", a feathery voice asked as a finger tapped your shoulder. This is the first time anyone has asked you to be their partner in a project, ever since that incident. Everyone's been too nervous to partner up with you seeing as River is always around you. Well, almost anyway. Today was different, River had a very important project to attend to, leaving you all alone in class. The moment the guy had asked you to partner up, it was immediately followed by the other classmates surrounding you with the same question, shoving the shy classmate aside. "Can we be partners!?", they all giddily said, making you feel overwhelmed at the sudden focus. You knew it was all because they wanted to get in River's good graces seeing as you're the closest person to him at the moment. Even closer than Aria, his very own 'girlfriend.' With the whole classroom being filled with the cacophony of voices, everyone wanting you to partner up with them, the teacher had no choice but to slam the board to get everyone's attention. "Everyone calm down, you're all being way too loud for anyone's liking, especially [Name]'s, how on earth will he be able to choose with you all talking on top of each other?" Thankfully, they all stayed quiet for a moment, looking at you with anticipation.

You decided to go with the guy who didn't try to make you go deaf, the one who had the guts to ask you in the first place before the domino effect took place. In all honesty, you should have paid more attention to the way his eyes scanned you up and down before sitting next to you.

"Thanks", he says, looking into your eyes for no reason in particular. You nod and begin to workout the project, pulling out your notes and laptop. "Let's start it right now since the deadline's pretty tight." Without your knowledge, he continues to stare at you even though you aren't looking directly at him. He eventually does snap out of it after you look at him, confused on why he's staring. Directing his focus on the task at hand. "Yeah..definitely", his voice sounded like a kid who was caught with his hand inside a cookie jar.

Reviewing over the material together, the two of you eventually map out the entire project, splitting the material between the both of you. You had the task of making the presentation while he had the task of condensing the material to make it easier to digest. You press on the power button on your laptop, expecting it to boot up immediately. Only to be greeted with a black screen. "Huh? I could've sworn I charged it last night", you scratch your head, confusion plastered on your face. "What's wrong?", he asked, despite his words, you felt it was void of any worry. You shake your head, "it's nothing, I'll just make the presentation at my dorm and send it to you afterwards", you begin to put back your notes and laptop into your bag. Coincidentally, the bell suddenly rings, indicating the end of class and school altogether. Though, before you could get up from your chair, you felt a tight grip on your wrist, stopping you. "Can I come over? It'll be much more efficient and effective", he smiles, expecting you to agree, "I don't know about that...", you hesitate since nobody from campus has ever been in your house, apart from your close friends that is. But, no harm would be done right? It's just a simple presentation.

Click! the lock clicked open as you turned the key. You grab the handle and pull it, opening the door to your dorm. Peaceful and quiet. Those are the words not a lot of students who live in dorms can use to describe their place due to having a messy roommate or what not. Fortunately for you, your roommate had moved out not long ago, leaving the whole dorm to yourself. "No roommate?" "nope", you answer simply, getting the point across quickly. "Take a seat on the sofa, I'm just going to put my things down, and we can get started", you grab your laptop out of your bag before placing it near your bed. The laptop is placed on your desk, you plug it in and make sure that this time it's on. The last thing you want now is to prolong the guy's stay. You sit down next to him, notes in hand. "Oh right, I never got your name", he perks up at this, "it's Trav!", "nice to meet you, Trav, I'm–", "[Name], yes I know", he cuts you off almost excitedly. He really is unpredictable. Partly because of this, the atmosphere becomes awkward, the two of you not having any topics to bring up.

"Well...Do you want a drink? I can make us some hot chocolate or tea if you prefer that", you try to break the awkward silence with a question, "some hot chocolate sounds nice", he nods as he says this. You get up to boil some water as you get two cups and two packets of hot chocolate mix. "Hope you don't mind instant hot chocolate", you chuckle, "of course not", you could hear him laugh a bit aswell. At least you managed to break the awkwardness for just a moment. The whole time you were making the hot chocolate, you felt him starin at you but whenever you turned around, he wouldn't be looking at you at all. This whole thing was kinda creeping you out but what could you do? You were the one who picked him to be your partner in the first place.

With two cups of hot chocolate in your hands, you head back to the couch and hand him a cup. He thanks you and takes a sip of the drink, "delicious!", he says while looking at you, not paying attention to the cup as some of the liquid spills onto your shirt, "ow shit!", you wince, feeling the hot chocolate on your skin. Seeing this, Trav remains calm, reaching over to grab a few tissues and wiping your shirt a bit, "I think you should take this off", you nod, you'll just change to another shirt, no big deal. You tug your shirt over your head, your hair being ruffled a bit and you get up to toss it in the laundry basket. Trav stared at your half naked body, oogling at your frame before you finally find a sweater to put on, ending his wandering eyes from looking even more.

It's been a month since your first meeting with Trav. You noticed his shy persona going away little by little. Now he's definitely more confident. At least he has the confidence to be 'jokingly flirtatious' with you. Not to mention you surprisingly haven't gotten a love quest ever since you started hanging out with Trav more than River. River took notice of this quickly. He was only gone for a day, and you already made yourself a friend? A friend who dares to flirt with you no less. Do you not know who you are? You ought to be more careful.

Due to this, River has been even more protective of you. He even holds your hand tightly in class under the table. And at this moment, he'd doing exactly that. His fingers intertwined with yours, unwilling to let go even if your hand's sweating. "Let go of my hand—", "no", he answers firmly, not even looking at you as though it was an obvious answer. You huff, you've tried to pull away but his grip's too strong. It just ends up with him pulling the "puppy" eyes on you, making you sigh in defeat almost everytime. "That's all for today's material, please don't forget to turn in your work tomorrow morning on my desk", the teacher says as she walks out the door with the class finally over. You thought you'd be free from River's grip, but no, he was still holding your hand when you got up. "Where are you going?", he asked, looking up at you to which you reply, "none of your business", if this was a cartoon, an irk mark would have appeared on your forehead. You've barely had enough time to yourself, let alone with friends after getting into River's sight. "Let go", your tone somewhat frustrated, hoping he'd let go. This of course, doesn't work, "I'll go with you—", "hey River, can you help me with this?", a random classmate comes up to his desk, handing him a big stack of paper, he reaches for the papers with both hands, letting go of yours in the process and leaving an opening for you to finally sprint out of class to hang out with your friend.

You thought River would follow you but when you look back, he's nowhere to be seen, making you let out a sigh of relief rather than defeat. Looking around, you find yourself at the end of a hallway connecting to a garden. You check your phone to see it's 3:10PM. Trav had promised to meet you here so the two of you could walk home together after he showed you something in the garden. But it seems like he's running a bit late considering it's been 10 minutes since the promised time. You were late too but considering he hasn't even arrived yet, you were quite early. You decide to give him a call. *ring* *ring*, but no answer. "Did his teacher hold him back?", you wonder as you stand there waiting for him to show up.

After a couple more minutes, you felt a pair of hands covering your eyes, covering your sight. "Trav?", you guess only to hear a very pouty, "Trav!?" Turning around, you were met face to face with River, "you thought I was Trav?", his expression turns gloom, disappointed and blue. Seeing this, you roll your eyes, he's probably pretending like he always is to get your sympathy, "I was expecting Trav to show up, he's running a bit late", you explain the situation with a tired look, "kindly fuck off", you smile with a hint of anger. It's been ages since you walked home with a friend, he should at least let you breathe once in a while. Just as you say that, he grabs your wrist, pulling you to the storage room, which is conveniently placed within that hallway, not letting you slip away.

He closes the door with one hand, the other still gripping your hand just as hard. "[Name], you have no idea what Trav will end up doing. You do know who you are, don't you?", he asks as if it's the mosy obvious question in the world. You squint your eyes in confusion, "what do you mean?", he opens his mouth to say something but stops to rub his forehead a bit, "have you not checked the system window?", this made you even more confused, what reason would you have to check it? You shake your head. He stays silent for a bit, his face looks as if he's finally put one and one together. A sigh is let out before he speaks, "so that's why you've been so idiotic and oblivious", you're clearly offended by this statement, no, this lie. "Excuse you."

"You've made me upset, [Name]", he pouts once more, "you know, I was actually starting to think you liked him", he says with another sigh, a sigh of relief this time, "who?", you ask, confused still, "Trav!", he says in a slightly louder voice, your hand free of his grasp by now. You couldn't help but laugh at his admittion, "so..Let me get this straight, you were being an annoying bastard just because you got jealous of Trav?", you couldn't stop laughing. The mere thought of a protagonist getting jealous of an unimportant role was just hilarious. This comment made him frown, his emotions are not to be taken lightly. He'll definitely show you.

[System]

—River's Quest—

Accept the punishment given

"The what quest?", you raise an eyebrow at the title. On the other hand, River had a knowing smirk plastered on his face, the frown long gone. "I guess the system's on my side huh?", you look up at him, no longer distracted by the window as it closes by itself as always. You stare at him with a 'on your side? Please' look. "[Name], get on your knees", you chuckle, "you think I'd just do that? That's ridiculous—", just as you say those words, your knees give out on you, making you get on your knees infront of River with your phone being dropped on the floor next to you. Infront of his crotch. "You're such a good boy", he smiles with his eyes closed, happy at your obedience, "what just...", "what just happened? My dear angel, have you forgotten I'm the protagonist?", his hand extends to grab a handful of your hair, bending down a bit to meet eye to eye. His eyes intimidating like a predator's. Like someone who already knows the outcome. He stares at your eyes. You feel as if he's staring into your soul, you're terrified of this feeling, of him, of what he's able to do.

"Let go..", you manage to mumble out despite your fear. He tilts his head a bit in satisfaction hearing your weak voice. "Alright then", he lets go of your hair, you look down, trying to calm down from the fear you just experienced when, zippp, you hear a zipping sound coming nor too far from your face. Looking up, you see River already taking his hard-on out. You're once again face to face with his girthy cock. "Angel..Suck it", his eyes full of lust, you could have sworn there were hearts in them. You instinctively reach out for his cock, wrapping your hands around it before letting your lips wrap around his tip, earning a very satisfied huff, "that's it...go down on my cock", he encourages you to shove his dick deeper in your mouth, down your throat. You slowly but surely take more and more of him in your mouth, trying your best to not accidentally choke in the process which grows increasingly hard after a few seconds, you forgot how long he actually is. You look up to see his hand hovering over his mouth incase he accidentally moans too loud. Even if classes have ended for the day, it doesn't mean there aren't students still lurking around. "You can do better than that", he says as you've taken about half of his cock in your mouth. You wanted to throw a snarky comment at him but with your mouth full, you couldn't utter a single word, so you opted to glare at him instead. "A glare won't stop me from doing this", he says as you feel him grab another handful of your hair and making you take all of him in your throat. You choke, whine, and even shed a few tears due to the unexpected choking sensation. You could hear River let out a loud moan. Just you were adjusting, you felt River's grip tighten as he pulls you back until your lips were only touching the tip before pushing you back down, "what a shame Trav isn't here to see you choking on my cock", he smirks before repeating the move over and over again for a few seconds.

"[Name]?", speak of the devil, Trav is finally here. He calls out your name in the hallway. You can hear him so close to you, hindered by a single brick wall. You hear your phone buzzing on the floor, "what a bother..", River sighs, grabbing your phone and turning on do not disturb mode, putting it in his pocket to ensure it stays that way. "He isn't even answering the phone", Trav sighs as his footsteps get closer and closer to the storage room. River only tells you to "keep sucking." Those words alone were enough to make you keep sucking his cock even without him face fucking you. The door to the storage room slowly opens, "oh, River, have you seen [Name]?", the confused man asks, thank God you and River are behind stacks of boxes, Trav is unable to see the way you're sucking River so good. "[Name]? I haven't seen him since class ended, why?", River answers calmly as Trav scratches his head, "really? I could have sworn I heard his phone buzzing around here", he thinks to himself for a moment while River tries to hold in his groans and moans. "What are you doing here anyways?", Trav asks, taking a step into the room which makes you panic a bit hearing his voice get closer. River chuckles at your panicked expression, he then grips your hair to make sure your head stays in place, with all of his length in your mouth, doen your throat. "Please refrain from stepping any closer, I'm tidying up and wouldn't want any dust coming off of you", he smiles softly, admittingly a fake smile, at Trav, causing him to back away. "Oh alright then, don't let me disturb you", he says as he finally walks away, closing the door on his way out.

River turns his attention to you, eyes filled with tears, mouth filled with his cock, you could even taste his precum. You feel a tug at your hair, signaling for you to continue. You try your best to satisfy him, licking and sucking his cock so good. When you look up at him, you see his bored expression, "how do you expect me to cum when you're sucking like that?", he asks, expecting more from you. In order to satisfy himself, he starts to face fuck you, thrusting into your mouth once more, harder and faster this time to chase his climax. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks, why is he so rough. "Now this...agh..is how to please me", he says in-between moans and breaths. You had a hard time breathing but it'd all be over soon as you could hear River say he's about to cum. "Don't swallow it yet", is what he says before cumming in your mouth, pulling out to see his thick cum overflowing your mouth, spilling a bit on the floor, "open your mouth", he demands which you obey. "Good", your mouth filled with cum, not being able to swallow due to his orders. "You took me so well, you can swallow now", he has a mischievous look on his face, fantasizing about all the things he can and will do to you in this very storage room.

"I've really been holding this in, won't you do more for me? You've been neglecting me these past few days and giving your attention to that pesky man", he refuses to say his name at this very moment in order to not ruin his own mood. Truth be told, Trav got under his skin simply for being around you. "[Name], stand up", your body moves by itself, letting you stand up on both your legs whjch were previously weak beyond belief. With his rough hands, River bends you over on one of the boxes, fortunately, it's stable enough to withstand the force. "You're so pretty, it's no wonder he'd want you", he scans your features and your clothed body, "but you're mine", he proceeds to grab your clothes and rip it into two. You cover yourself with your hands, "what was that for!", he doesn't answer, he only trails his hands down your chest, groping and squeezing your nipples to try and get a reaction out of you, which it does. "Ah..!", you moan out a bit, the sensation painful yet you feel pleasure at the same time. "I'm glad you're still as sensitive as last time we fucked", he turns his attention to your pants which without any hesitation, he pulls down with your boxers along with it leaving you naked. "R-River! We're still in school, what if someone sees, the door can't be locked you know!", you try to salvage what was left of your shirt but River beats you to it and throws them on the ground where you can't reach the pieces. "That's precisely why I want to fuck and mess you up here, angel", he pauses and then continues, "if anyone were to walk in here, they'd know you're fully mine, nobody else's."

With that reminder, he lifts up one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, that way, you cant close your legs even if you wanted to, giving him an easy access to your hole. "We haven't done it in a while, will you even be able to take it all the way in?", his teasing reminds you of all the times the two of you did this sort of act in class without anyone noticing due to whatever magic the system performed. "Damnit, if you're going to fuck me, stop talking and do it already!", you cover your face due to how red it is by now.

River doesn't say a single word. Instead, he uses two fingers to stretch you out, taking you by surprise once more as you moan loudly. God you hope nobody's near this specific hallway, if there is someone, both you and River would be found out. "You like that don't you? To have something of mine in you, you love it. Just wait for my cock to be inside of you", he can't stop the dirty talk when it comes to you.

You can feel his fingers stretching you out, moving around. His fingers are long and knows how to turn you on even more than you already are. You let out a string of moans, the pleasure being unreal. Even after a few minutes, you still writhed in pleasure from his fingers alone.

Your hole suddenly felt weirdly empty, you look at him to see him retracting his fingers. You look on, knowing his cock was going to enter you soon. He guides your hands to wrap around his neck, he positions his cock to be at your entrance and grabs your waist, "I'm not going to go easy on you angel", you swore his pupils were hearts for a second, his lust filled eyes looked into yours. In just a second and without any sort of warning, he thrusts all the way into you, you let out a mixture of a moan and a scream, the pain and pleasure mixing together until you can't form thoughts, all you can do is spill out even more tears. "Hah...all in one go, you're amazing angel", his praises go unnoticed by you due to how your eyes are rolling back from pleasure. Your hands which were once around his neck, scratched his back a bit. Fortunately for River, it did not tear skin. "Be careful there, I'll be leaving campus with blood all over my back if you keep doing that", he joked. Even you knew that he wouldnt mind that kind of thing. Infact, he'd probably love your scratches on him, it's as if you're 'marking' him in some way.

Once you clamed down from the initial shock, he wasted no time and started to thurst in and out of you. Hitting your spots just right as you moan out of pleasure from your academic rival. "Moan out my name angel, I want to hear it", even though you're a mess at this moment, you manage to say his name, "Ri-Riv...ahh...River!", with your shaky voice saying his name, he lets out a very satisfied hum and continues to pound your little hole, abusing it all while you're too weak to do anything about it. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. River certainly noticed this. In order to stop you from cumming so fast, he places his thumb over your cock head, you look at him, almost terrified at what he's doing. "You're not going to cum unless I let you, got it?", he's getting back at you for all those times you ditched him for Trav. "We're going to have a long, long day ahead of us."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Seven.

River has been abusing your hole with his cock for seven rounds. The only reason you know is because River himself kept count. He made sure to count every single round. It doesn't seem like he'll stop either. Both your bodies sweating, dripping with sweat by now. The room became humid, it felt as if the whole world stopped for just the two of you. You lost track of time, your perception of time ruined by how rough River has been fucking you. A minute feels like an hour because of him not letting you rest for even a second. You thought you'd die from pleasure if that was even a possible cause of death. Too much sex? That's one way to die.

With this being the eigth round, colors began to mix together, you lost focus a few rounds ago, only being able to see River's face, feeling the rhythm of his cock going and out of you. "N-no...more...", you somehow manage to mumble out."One more time..Angel", he responds as he's panting heavily, hands still gripping your waist like steel. With one final deep thrust to your prostate, you shiver as your cock releases more cum on your stomach along with River's cum which spilled into your hole once more, you could see a pool of cum on the floor and boxes. "Atta boy..", was all you heard before passing out right then and there.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

When you did awake, you were in River's arms. You look at him and blink a couple of times, covering your mouth as you yawn a bit. "Huh..?", you stare at River's resting face. He looks so peaceful, unlike the River who basically teases the shit out of you for a living. Thinking of it alone made you pissed so you let go of the thought to savor this very moment. You reach out one hand to stroke his hair a few times, his soft fluffy brown hair felt like a cloud. He opened his eyes and smiled at you, "enjoying the view, [Name]?", there he goes going back to his teasing self. You instantly retract your hand, "no", you simply answered and closed your eyes once more. He wouldn't let you avoid him that easily though. "Heyyy look at mee", he pouts, trying to get you to open your eyes with a few soft nudges. You eventually caved in and the two of you met eye to eye. "Angel, you're gorgeous", he says out of the blue, "where did that even come from", you giggle a bit from the sudden compliment, "can't I compliment my boyfriend!?", "boyfriend? We're not even dating yet", you say that but you definitely saw the appeal in it. "Cmonn, admit it, you like me dontcha [Name]?", he has a cheeky smile, he knows he's hard to resist, almost impossible to resist to be very honest. "Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?", "maybeeeee what do you say?", he gets up, using his palm to rest his head as he looks at you, "do you want to be?", you pretend to think about it, "hm, after you've fucked me over 10 times? I don't know..", you respond sarcastically before eventually laughing at your own words, "I assume that's a yes", he laughs too before tackling you and getting on top of you. He leans for a kiss but you suddenly remember something.

"River, why was Trav able to see you..? Plus why was the quest even named after you???", you ask, usually the love quests would make the both of you invisible to others, why was it different that time? And especially the sudden title change??"I'm the protagonist silly, I can do whatever I want with the system— oops, cat's out of the bag", he says nonchalantly, "you WHAT!?", you yell in shock, turns out the rumour is real afterall, "ah ah, don't go around telling people this, it wouldn't be as fun if everyone knew", he sighs a bit but you could tell it wasn't all that serious to him.

[System]

Welcome, [Name] [L. Name], after completing the quest, you have been registered as The Protagonist's other half

With the window basically in your face, you read it out loud and get shocked once more, causing you to get up and suddenly lose all feeling in your two legs. Fortunately for you, River caught you in time. "I fucked you real good huh?", he chuckles while you're in his arms basically processing information and the fact you'd probably not be able to go to classes for 3 days because of how rough River fucked you. "River you damn horny bastard!"

Needless to say, River had to carry you around for about 3 days. He doesn't regret it one bit as this showed everyone the two of you are a thing now. Eventually even Trav stayed away from you due to the glares River would throw his way everytime he got close. Whenever someone got close enough to ask what had happened, River would answer in the most brutally honest way he could.

"I fucked him too hard"

══════════════════════════════

And it's finally out yall the wait is over😘‼️ its currently 5AM and I'm posting this lmao

×For a bit of context, reader had always had the role of being River's love interest ever since he slept with River, he only never bothered to check the system roles, however, River and Trav do know that reader's their goal/possible love interest which is why theyre kinda all over reader. Trav is River's love rival which is why he hates it whenever Trav breathes, he wishes he would js drop dead.

[weelittleweasley]

It’s Complicated (c.d.)

Prompt inspired by anon request: Cedric wanted a relationship, you wanted something casual. This made for a complicated dynamic between the two of you to say the least, but Cedric was determined to make things less complicated simply and plainly.

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ sexual content (rough sex, male receiving oral, FILTHY TALK), language, but also fluff? Idk I tried to do it all with this one LMAOOO

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Bro lowkey after i wrote this I was like.....yo do i wanna fuck cedric????? 

Rising from the bed quickly, you started pulling your clothes back on, preventing Cedric from pulling you back onto the bed and into his arms. You heard him groan in disappointment, “Why can’t you stay?” You laugh and shake your head, sliding your jeans on. He always wanted you to stay after one of your encounters. “For five minutes?” he tries to bargain with you.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror and wipe away the smudged eyeliner under your eyes. Without turning back to him, you speak, “As tempting as you offer is, I’m still going to go.” Cedric sighs. “Besides, I don’t think friends with benefits snuggle with each other,” you joke around as Cedric just rolls his eyes before a small smile tugs at his lips.

This friends with benefits relationship started last year between you and Cedric. The two of you had undeniably chemistry and after one night of sitting in the common room together, you had shared your first kiss which eventually developed into something more that night. The thing about this relationship was that you didn’t expect it to go on for this long. You had been sleeping with Cedric on and off for about a year which was never your intention. You thought that it would maybe last three months, but instead you found yourself knocking on his door for longer than that.

You couldn’t help it. There was something about Cedric Diggory that made you want more. He was charming, smart, and handsome. What was not to like? The only thing that stood in your way of a casual hook up with him was Cedric’s blossoming feelings for you. You made it very clear to Cedric that you didn’t want a boyfriend; you would rather be in a situation-ship rather than a relationship. In a relationship, you had the capability of being hurt. It was best for you to be on your own and sleep with whoever you wanted rather than be tied down to one person.

Cedric on the other hand was mad about you. He originally had the same intentions as you when starting this arrangement. Sex and sex only. No dates. No labels. No PDA. No nicknames. No exclusivity. Just sex. But he started having second thoughts about four months into your agreement. The thought of you flirting or sleeping with other guys made his stomach churn. The more time you spent together, Cedric realized how intelligent, kind, and passionate you were. Cedric was falling for you and he was falling quickly.

Was it still wrong to be sleeping with the boy who had feelings for you when you didn’t want a relationship? Sure. But you justified it every time. The sex was great, Cedric was a good guy, he wouldn’t be a dick and tell the school about your affairs, and at this point, it would be too late to stop. You were in the thick of it, there was no escape now. 

Cedric sits up and pulls his boxers back up. “(Y/N), you know how I feel about you,” he justifies, but you hold up a finger and stop him from going any further. You didn’t need a declaration of love right now. What you needed to do was get out of his room and go to the library and meet up with Luna for your study session. Cedric doesn’t stop though, he rises from his bed and walks towards you as you lean against his desk. When he reaches you, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him. “Why not give us a shot?”

“Because we agreed that this is just a casual thing,” you retort, pushing his hands off of you gently as Cedric sighs in defeat. “No labels remember?” Cedric sadly nods and you have to look away from him or else you’ll get sad too. A relationship with Cedric wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He was a great guy and you knew he would be the perfect boyfriend. But you weren’t going to get a head of yourself. You brushed the thought aside and simply kissed his cheek. “I have to run, but I’ll catch you later. Alright?”

The boy in front of you just smiles gently, knowing that he’ll just be disappointed again when you come over and leave. His yearning to be more than just sex to you grew every day. But he didn’t tell you that. He kept seeing you rather than losing you altogether. “Yeah,” he nods as you give him a smile. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, thinking of how messy this arrangement was. Cedric, hopelessly crushing on you, while you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t want a relationship. Before you register what you’re doing, you press a gentle kiss to Cedric’s lips, him immediately kissing you back with no hesitation. The kiss is gentle, sweet, and short. You don't know why you did it. You never kissed him goodbye. But today you felt like you wanted to. Almost needed to. Cedric looks like he’s about to say something, but you just speak before he can, “Alright then, bye, Cedric.”

You walk to the door, leaving quickly. “Bye,” he calls after you as you shut the door. 

As you walk down the steps of the boy’s dormitories, you can’t help but mentally beat yourself up. This friends with benefits thing was going too far; it should stop. But the thought of not being with Cedric made your stomach twist. It was good for you to set a boundary, right? 

You evade the thoughts from your mind as you enter the library, spotting Luna waiting for you at a circle table. “Sorry that I’m a little late,” you huff while sitting across from her. “I got caught up with something.” Luna looks at you and blushes before looking back at the book on the table. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” you touch your cheeks.

She shakes her head. “Um, no, dear,” she giggles. “You, erm, you’ve got something...right here,” she points to her own neck for reference. Your face heats up with embarrassment as you slap your neck, realizing that Cedric had given you a massive hickey. “No judgement here. Do what you have to do.” You groan and close your eyes. You hated when Cedric gave you hickeys; they always lasted forever and you got teased relentlessly on them by your friends. Luna notices your frustration and takes the light blue scarf from around her neck off and hands it to you. “Here you go.”

“You’re the best,” you thank her as you wrap the scarf around your neck. “Fucking Diggory...” you huff as Luna giggles, looking at you a little concerned. You were never this disheveled after seeing Cedric. In fact, you were always in a pleasant mood after being with Cedric. You notice Luna’s gaze and speak with a sigh, “It’s complicated...alright, enough of that, what are you working on?” ----------

The next day, you sat in the grass with a few of your friends, all chatting and munching on small snacks. It was a gorgeous spring day, the sun was shining, flowers blooming, and the smell of fresh grass danced in the air. The day was seemingly perfect.

As mild chatter was exchanged between a few classmates, you scanned your surroundings. That’s when you spotted Cedric. He sat on a bench, eyes focused on the book in his hands. You smiled to yourself as you watched the way his eyes maintained a soft focus on the words, him running one hand though his hair pushing it back. He looked other worldly in the moment, like a Grecian god. Your heart fluttered, but you prevented a blush from coming onto your cheeks by taking a deep breath in. 

However, you thoughts came to a screeching halt when Cedric’s gaze lifted from his book and landed on something, rather someone, else. His mouth moved to greet the person who sat on the bench next to him. Cho took a seat next to him as he draped an arm around her shoulders, her giggling. Your stomach became sick at the sight and jealously flooded your chest. What was he doing? The pair start talking as Cho laughs at something he whispers in her ear. Your blood is boiling at this point. 

“You alright, (Y/N)?” one of your friends asks you.

“I’m bloody brilliant,” you speak, your eyes not moving from Cedric. “One moment.”

You ignore the calls of your friends as you rise from the grass, grabbing your bag, leaving the circle. You weren’t going to do anything to Cho Chang. She did nothing wrong. In fact, you weren’t going to do anything to Cedric either. But you were going to make sure he knew that you saw what he was doing. 

Making yourself looking as unbothered as possible, you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your funk. You let yourself relax, a soft smile relaxing on your face. You walk in their general direction, not stopping to say hi to them, just passing the bench the pair was sat on. However, Cho looks up and speaks. “Oh, hi, (Y/N)!” she beams. 

Matching her energy, you speak, “Hi, Cho!” You smile at her and send her a wave. Looking at Cedric, you say nothing and continue to walk, ignoring his whole presence. As you walked away, you felt his eyes on you the whole time, a smirk playing out on your lips. “Prick,” you huff under your breath.

You walk into the castle, leaving the garden area. But that’s when you hear footsteps behind you, quickly approaching. “So you’re going to ignore me now? Is that what we’re doing?” Cedric’s voice calls after you as you smirk, knowing you’ve won. “Hello?”

Sarcastically, you turn around and pretend to just notice him. “Oh, hi, Cedric. I didn’t see you there. Anyway, I need to get going now,” you tell him. “You shouldn’t leave Cho alone. It’s rude to do that.”

Cedric laughs, “You’re joking, right?” You just shrug and turn around, walking away. “Merlin, (Y/N), you should be one to talk! You leave me alone constantly after you’ve had your way!” he exclaims. His words make passerbys oooh as your face flares up with embarrassment. “What? You’re gonna play all shy now? ‘Cause last night you were anything, but shy,” he continues as people’s interests peak.

You look around at multiple pairs of eyes on you as you grab his hand and pull him into a vacant classroom. You push Cedric in first, you shortly following, locking the door behind you. “What the fuck was that?” you yell at him, pushing his chest back, completely enraged. Even though there were a handful of people who knew about you and Cedric, you weren’t keen on the whole school knowing about it. 

“Well, now that I have your attention,” Cedric starts as you slap his arm. “What? You’re mad because I’m talking to another girl. Merlin, (Y/N), it’s not like I kissed her!” You roll your eyes. “So, it’s okay for you to talk to other guys and flirt with them, but when I do it, it’s wrong? You’re mental!”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You hadn’t flirt with anyone else; maybe cheeky banter with George Weasley once, but nothing that should have had him sweating. You retort, “That’s a load of rubbish, Ced, and you know it! You wanna know what else is? You tell me how much you like me and then you go ahead and do shit that says otherwise!” Cedric pulls at his hair, unable to comprehend the situation. It’s not until a tear hits your lips that you notice that you are crying. This game was driving you crazy. “Cedric, I don’t know what we’re doing!”

“No, (Y/N)! You don’t know what you want!” Cedric yells back as you stop, shocked at his accusation. “I’ve been very clear with you this whole time. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long and it’s only you who I want. You make me happy. I want to call you mine and all mine. I don’t wanna worry about someone asking you to be theirs. I want you to be my girlfriend. But it seems like that’s something you don’t want!” he throws his hands over his head, in full surrender. Cedric is crying now too, but he angrily wipes his tears away. 

Gulping, you decide to confess to him why you’ve been so persistent on not being his girlfriend. “It’s because I don’t wanna get hurt, Cedric!” you yell, throwing your hands up. His face changes from frustration and softens into concern. “I’ve been how relationships can affect people. I’ve comforted too many friends before. Heartbreak seems too painful and I don’t need anymore pain in my life. Because I know if I lost you, it would be the greatest pain of all,” you cry out.

After you spill out your feelings to Cedric, you bury your face in your hands and sob. It isn’t long before Cedric runs over to you and holds you in his arms, you burying your face in his chest, sobbing into his robes. His one hand rubs your back and the other cradles your head rest on his chest. He lets you cry into him and doesn’t say a word. Cedric lets you cry and cry and cry into his chest for as long as you need. The only words he speaks are, “I’m not going anywhere.” His strong hands comb through your hair, relaxing you as you sniffle into his robe, calming down. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head. His embrace brings you comfort and peace, his grasp feels familiar. Like home. 

You pull away from his chest and look up at him and he takes your face in his hands, wiping away any leftover tears. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear on my family name that I will never hurt you. I am going to protect you with every cell in my body. I promise I am going to make you the happiest girl in the world if it’s the last thing I do. And if I fail to do that, then I’ll be damned. But I am going to be the best man for you,” he swears to you, looking deep into your eyes. His eyes swelled with honesty and compassion, something you had always admired about him. In his moment, you couldn’t admire him more. 

“I want to be yours,” you tell Cedric. “All yours.”

Your words make Cedric’s lips turn upward into a childish grin and he chuckles, “You mean it?” You nod as he laughs before pressing his lips firmly onto yours as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close to you. You sighed into the kiss, relaxing your whole body. Finally. It felt so right. Standing beside Cedric, kissing him, but this time as boyfriend and girlfriend. “Say it again,” Cedric whispers against your lips before reattaching them, not wanting to stop this moment.

You smile into his kiss and mumble against his lips, “I’m all yours, Cedric Diggory.” He quietly moans into your kiss as you feel him pressing his hips into yours. “All yours,” you repeat as his hands trail down your cheeks, neck, to your chest to grab your breasts through your robes. You moan and push against his hands as you can feel him smile. 

Cedric breaks your kiss and looks at the door, making sure it was locked before drawing his wand and casting the Muffliato spell. You look at him baffled that he would want to have sex in a classroom. You thought since he was a prefect that he would want to play things safely. But your mind was quickly persuaded otherwise as both of your robes hit the floor, uniforms shortly following, Cedric pushing your blouse open so he could kiss the exposed flesh on your chest. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he leaves dark purple hickeys on your breasts, marking his territory. “I wanna hear you moan my name,” he demands, roughly ripping your bra off as you gasp, the cold air hitting your nipples. Cedric takes one of your nipples in his mouth, kissing and sucking on it before making his way to the other.

You roll your head back and let his name fall from your lips with a moan. The sound of you saying his name made Cedric moan as he sucked on your breasts, sending vibrations through you, the wetness between your legs growing. “Ced, baby,” you pant as he kisses up your neck before taking your bottom lip in between his teeth with a smirk, pulling on your lip gently.

“What, baby?” he asks, voice deep, making you weak in the knees for him. Which gives you an idea.

With a small smirk, you drop to your knees and yank down his boxer as Cedric stares at you with wide eyes. You watch as his hard dick hits his stomach before you take it in your hands, slowly pumping. Cedric sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “You want me to suck you off, baby?” you look up at him through your eyelashes before licking up his shaft from his balls to the tip.

Cedric groans, “Bloody fucking hell, yes.” With that, you take his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip, letting your saliva and his precum wet his erection before you take anymore of him. Cedric thrust his hips, forcing you to take all of him as once, making you gag a little. “Fuck,” he pants as you start to suck his dick, hollowing out your cheeks, bobbing your up and down him. “I love your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock,” he breathes out as you suck on his tip, hands massaging his balls. “Fucking shit, (Y/N),” he moans out as you take his whole length in your mouth, his dick pushing your gag reflex. “Let me come inside of you. I wanna cum inside that tight little pussy,” he pulls out of you with a pop. 

He pulls you up from your knees before grabbing a condom from his back pant’s pocket. “Naughty,” you laugh at him, surprised, but not that he’d carry around a condom with him during school. 

Cedric rolls the condom on his hard length and then pulls you close to him. “Get over here,” he smirks. Cedric grabs your thighs as you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pushes you against the wall, so he can fuck you against it. “You’re mine. You got it?” he growls which only makes your need for him grow, your pulsating vagina begging for him. 

“Fuck me, Ced, please,” you dig your nails into his back, aching for him.

“Only good girls get fucked. Now say who you belong to, slut,” he demands.

His sudden change in demeanor makes your heart race. “You, Cedric, you. I belong to you. I’m all yours, baby. No one else. Just you,” you whine as he teases you, dragging his tip in between your wet folds. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me like I’m your little slut.”

With that, Cedric pushes his whole length into you as you sigh out in pleasure. Cedric groans before starting to thrust in and out of you, not letting you adjust to his size. You wince a little bit at his size. He notices and says, “Take it like a good girl.” His words make you wetter for him as he pounds in and out of you, hips crashing down onto you. “You like that? You like the way I fuck you, baby? Who else fucks you like this?”

You dig your nails into Cedric’s back and dig your heels into his lower back, pushing him deeper inside of you. “No one else. Only you fuck me like this,” you pant with each thrust, making your breasts bounce with each thrust. 

“Good girl. That’s my baby,” he praises you, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze onto him. “Let me hear you moan my name, baby. I love hearing it coming out of you.”

You smile, lips slightly parted as you stare into Cedric’s eyes that are dark with lust. “Cedric, fuck,” you moan out. “You fuck my pussy so good. I love feeling your hard dick inside of me.”

Cedric grabs onto your thighs tightly, leaving small bruises as he groans. “Mmm, yeah,” he moans before pressing his lips on yours, sloppily snogging you, tongue massaging yours. “I want you to come all over my dick, baby. I want you to scream my name as you come.”

Obeying his demand, you roll your head back, focusing on the feeling of his dick rocking in and out of you, your walls tightening around him. You feel his thumb roll sloppy circles onto your clit and that’s what sends you over the edge. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your mouth falls open. “Shit, Cedric, I’m gonna fucking come,” you moan out, eyes screwed shut.

“Come, baby, come all over my dick. I wanna watch you come all over me. Scream my name,” he whispers in your ear.

With a few more thrusts and sloppy circles, you curl your toes and dig your nails deeper into his skin. “Fucking hell, Cedric!” you cry out with pleasure, releasing all over his hard cock as he moans shortly after you, shuddering inside of you, telling you that he had finished. He continues to thrust in and out of you, riding out both of your highs. 

Beads of sweat fall down both of your faces as your chests rise and fall rapidly. You both catch your breaths as Cedric gently puts you down. You hold onto his biceps, needing a little help standing, your legs feeling like jelly. “Bloody hell,” Cedric pants with a light laugh. You join in his light laughter, both still in euphoria about how great the sex was. Maybe the best you’ve ever had. 

The two of you get changed back into your uniforms and robes, cleaning yourselves up after your little quickie. As you fix your hair, Cedric grabs your hips with a large smile on his face. “So, you’re my girlfriend now?” he asks as you roll your eyes.

“I guess so. You’re stuck with me now, Diggory. Happy now?” you tease him, pecking his lips gently. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the happy boy in front of you. It may have taken you a while to come to terms with it, but this was right. Cedric was right. 

Cedric squeezes your hips. “Happy is an understatement,” he confesses with a kiss to your forehead. This was so right.

[masterjedilenawrites]

What about a reader that is drunk, going to do some nonsense, so both Tech and Crosshair stop her, and in the next day there’s a climate btween them? Pretty please 🥺

I wasn't sure what you meant by the last part of your request so I just let the scene play out in what felt like a natural direction, I hope that's okay! I'm happy to write something else if you'd like!

Tech & Crosshair & Reader | 1.8k words

You tried to hold back your giggles as you gathered up as many helmets as you possibly could. This was going to be great. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of this before, it was probably one of the best ideas you'd ever had in your life. Your whole body seemed to shake with excitement. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. Nah... you hadn't had that much to drink. This was a genuinely good, smart idea.

You stumbled out of the closet and down the hallway, dropping a few helmets along the way but not even noticing. It was like the edges of your vision were out of focus but surely that was just the dim lighting of 79's. It'd always been hard to see in here.

"What are doing?"

The voice came out of no where, even thought its owner was practically standing right in front of you. Arms crossed, scowl on his face, eyes studying you as you juggled a half dozen clone trooper helmets in your arms for seemingly no reason.

"Back off, Crosshair," you slurred, trying to push past him quickly. Why was he always in your business?

The sniper was too quick for you even on your good days. He took hold of your arm and pulled you back before you entered the main bar area, keeping you in the relative privacy of the hallway.

"Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he rephrased his question.

"It's not stealing, it's a prank," you protested, trying and failing to get your arm out of his grasp. Another helmet tumbled to the floor in the effort.

"Oh there you are," came a new voice. It was almost as if you were moving in slow motion as you tore your gaze from Crosshair and over at the newcomer.

"Tech, tell this jerk to get out of my way," you thought you said. But whatever actually came out was apparently not as understandable. Tech looked between you and Crosshair, confused.

"Um, okay. Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he asked the same question as his brother.

As if on queue, another helmet slipped out of your grasp, though you hadn't moved. At least, you didn't think you did. You huffed and ignored Tech's question, turning back to Crosshair with pleading eyes. Both men were standing between you and your chance to pull one over on the 501st, a battalion infamous for their clever pranks. And you were not going to be stopped.

"Come on Cross," you drawled. "I'm pranking the regs, you should be proud."

Even through your crazed senses, you were still able to pick up the amused twitch of his lips. But he quickly suppressed it and turned back to his usual grouchy grimace.

"Normally I would," he said, "but not like this. Not tonight."

He took a pair of helmets from you and handed them over to Tech, ignoring your whiny sounds of protest.

"He's right," said Tech, placing the helmets on the floor in the corner. "Wrecker already upset some of them tonight, I don't think they'd find this very humorous. Besides, in your drunken state..."

"I'm not drunk!" you exclaimed, probably louder than you intended judging by the flinch both men gave in response.

"Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bloodshot," said Tech matter-of-factly.

"And I saw exactly how many drinks you had," added Crosshair.

Tech nodded at him. "Yes, we could go on, but that should be indication enough that..."

You cut him off again, this time with tears. You couldn't help it. The whine that had almost been perpetually eking out of you during this whole conversation grew into actual cries and whimpers. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet and your lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're both so mean, you never let me have fun, the one time I come up with a great idea and you shoot it down like I'm an idiot, it's not fair, all I wanted was to show you that I belong here with you guys, but none of you let me, you don't care about me at all, you're such fun-busters..."

You babbled on and on, only barely making any sense to the two men who'd now freed you from your armful of stolen helmets and were gently guiding you out of the bar. You clunked along between them like a baby learning to walk for the first time, unaware of where you were going or what was happening. You could only focus on your emotional speech, and then after a few minutes, your focus was redirected to the queasy feeling in your stomach.

Thankfully the boys got you back onto the Havoc and into the refresher before you spilled your guts. Crosshair held your hair back and rubbed a hand soothingly along your spine until the worst of it passed. You fell limp next to the toilet, unable to form any coherent thoughts in the aftermath.

"Come on," Crosshair said softly by your ear. He tried pulling you up, but when it was clear you weren't going to stand on your own, he picked you up altogether and carried you over the to bunks.

Tech had pulled out one of the cots, the one everyone on the ship agreed was more comfortable than the others and thus fought over the right for almost every night. He had it set up with blankets and pillows, and he stood nearby holding a bottle of water as Crosshair laid you down.

"Just small sips for now," Tech said, holding the bottle up to your lips and helping you get down a few quick swallows, enough to calm the burning in the back of your throat. You were vaguely aware of his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your earlier tantrum from your eyes.

"Fun-busters," you muttered before curling up on your side.

Tech looked over at his brother, who only rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"Good-night to you, too," he said just before you lost consciousness.

* * *

The next morning was... rough, to say the least. You'd been tipsy a few times in your life, but never full-on drunk, which meant you'd also never had to deal with a full-on hangover.

Your head was splitting open, you were sure of it. Every turn of your neck made you feel sick. There was a pressure behind your eyes and a lightness to your stomach. You wanted to stay in bed forever. But even more painful than your hangover symptoms were the memories of your behavior the night before, and the urge to make amends eventually propelled you to get up.

You found Tech first, fiddling with his holopad in the cockpit. He eyed you as you carefully lowered yourself in the chair next to his, keeping a hand up to shield your eyes from the rays of morning sunlight that crept through the windows.

"I'm sorry," you said in a low, raspy voice, getting right to the point. You knew Tech appreciated when people did that. He wasn't a fan of small talk and segues, not when there was clearly something important to discuss. "I was kind of a dumbass last night, wasn't I?"

Tech set down his holopad with a shrug. "You had too much to drink. You weren't in control of your mental faculties."

You smiled at his uncomplicated way of viewing things. But then came a cough from behind, from a particularly unamused sniper leaning against the doorway.

"You were a dumbass," he said just as plainly as his brother. Well, at least they were both honest, even if it was in contrast to each other.

"I'm surprised you remember," said Tech, quickly trying to move past his brother's more negative comment. "From what I've read, memory loss is common after heavy intoxication...."

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as it made your head ring. "I don't remember a lot, just enough to be embarrassed. If I said anything nasty to either of you, I really didn't mean it, I swear. I was just...."

You trailed off, not sure what it was you were really trying to do. You'd wanted to pull a prank, but there'd been something else driving you forward, some other motive to want to do something so stupid.

"You called us fun-busters and cried because you didn't think we cared about you," said Crosshair through the customary toothpick in his mouth.

You looked at Tech, who gave you an apologetic look that confirmed his brother's words were true. You let out a little groan and slumped into the chair. A part of you was glad you didn't fully remember.

"Do you really think that?" Tech asked. "That you don't belong here?"

You shrugged. You still weren't sure about your feelings.

"I dunno... I guess, maybe sometimes... it does feel like you treat me the way you do the regs." You spoke slowly, discovering your own thoughts as you said the words. "Like I'm just along for the ride. Just a normal person who doesn't matter. I thought if I did something to them, you'd see I wasn't part of them. At least, that's what my drunk alter ego thought, anyway."

You gave another shrug and tried for a laugh but it didn't feel quite right.

Tech looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do realize most of the regs in that club were inebriated, too. But we didn't carry any of them to bed for the night."

"Or watch as they puked their guts out," added Crosshair with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

"Yes," Tech nodded at you. "We knew you've been feeling down lately, that's why Hunter suggested we all go to that bar in the first place, to give you a chance to have some fun. Crosshair and I kept an eye on you, and Hunter and Wrecker made sure those regs didn't get upset over your, ah, attempt at a prank."

Tech let his words linger for a moment as you finally raised your throbbing eyes up to meet his.

"You belong here. And we do care. We care because, well..."

He looked over at his brother and you followed his gaze. Crosshair took out his toothpick and pointed it at you.

"Because we're your family."

He put the toothpick back in his mouth with a wink and then turned to leave, showing that that was the final word on the subject. Tech looked at you with a soft smile, one that made you finally feel at peace. You hummed as you laid back against the chair and let the feeling really take hold within you.

You belonged with the Bad Batch. They were your family.

It was a very nice feeling.

[joontier]

“V” | part one

synopsis: You zinged. With the captain. Who was human. 

pairings: kim taehyung x female reader 

rating: R (18+) | genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, minor angst (as of now) ,fantasy, (unknowing) enemies to lovers trope; captain! taehyung x vampire! reader, based off Hotel Transylvania and Girl’s Trip! | warnings: plenty of sexual innuendos, explicit sex) (groping, fingering, exhibitionism, 

word count: 13.1k 

g/n: im splitting this into a two/three shot because i really wanted to post this bc the coward in me is afraid that if i finish and post the whole thing this app might crash on me ajfoiawjefiajwfa n e ways, enjoy this first part and please let me know what you think! 

one. | two. | three.?

navi | m.list

Albeit recorded as one of the smallest countries in terms of area and population, the country of Tersnoa proudly boasts its multiple attractions and rich culture. As the nation’s economy depends heavily on tourism, Tersnoa is considered a hidden treasure amongst the genuine travelers - human and monsters alike. 

Santa Shelea - the monster capital of Tersnoa, is located beneath the lush woods of the small country, hidden to the human eye. Entrance to the city you grew up in is a privilege given only to monsters, though it wasn’t always like that. 

The city used to nurture human and monster liaisons, with relations surpassing mere diplomacy. Humans and monsters shared friendships that run deeper than their contrasts in physical attributes and their innate characteristics. It was a time when both parties realized they were so much alike in plenty of ways and respect was observed by all despite the differences in appearances and culture. Admittedly, monsters had more to sacrifice with these accords due to your more primal urges, but your kind made it work, for the sake of peaceful coexistence. 

The other party, however, did not seem to share the same sentiments for long. 

Santa Shelea was one of the few places left on Earth where monsters sought refuge as your kind of people were constantly drawn out of the places they used to peacefully live at by the humans themselves. You thought Santa Shelea was different - that these people you once even considered family wouldn’t push you away just like what the others did, but it wasn’t before long that the human citizens of the once-glorious city were going to change their minds. 

These selfish, pompous humans conducted an uprising to protest against the presence of monsters in ‘their’ land. It was an awful time to have grown up in, being called a ‘monster’ in all senses of the word, especially from those people you have even considered friends. The human citizens conducted an uprising in Santa Shelea, protesting the presence of monsters in ‘their’ land, ultimately disturbing the peace of the city. 

Humans burned your houses down to the ground, including your helpless mother in their supposed quest for peace. After having kept the harmonious liaisons for quite some time, your kind had gone back to your primitive instincts, fighting for your rights along with an army of beasts, hybrids, witches, and members of the undead. It was catastrophe epitomized, a day that no one wishes to relive. 

It isn't fair to say that the monsters emerged victorious when so many had perished, your mother included. Eventually, these mortal beings realized there were no match for formidable creatures and soon took their leave of the once prosperous city. Soon enough, humans became history to monsters and vice versa. 

Rebuilding your beloved city from scratch was no easy task, proving to be even more difficult with the agony that came with burying the past. To prevent any more man-made disasters in the future, the witches had agreed to cast a spell over Santa Shelea: that your city will forever remain invisible to the human eye. 

And it has remained such until the present, appearing as part of the picturesque mountain ranges Tersnoa has to offer. Far from the city and beneath the mountains of lush forestry, Hotel Tersnoa stands tall in the middle of Santa Shelea - the city where monsters thrive. If you could only speak for yourself, the city could easily pass as the eighth wonder of the world. 

Hotel Tersnoa isn’t the only legacy handed down from your great-great-great-grandfather (“G4 for short”, he’d offered one day, explaining that he had to ‘blend in with the now’). During the past millennia, he had also established a conglomerate of enterprises across the world. He’s even founded BloodHub, an international focus group centered on blood diseases and blood donations but you wouldn’t want to delve on the beginning and end of that. 

The responsibility of taking over the hotel had been passed on to your father since then and his ardency for the hotel was unparalleled, the bequest of the hotel has surpassed the original Hotel Tersnoa of which your grandfathers had initially envisioned it to be. Your father would spend hours on end surveying every detail, nook, and cranny of the beloved establishment, barking orders left and right. 

On top of being a father, he had busied himself with the responsibilities of a hotelier. Yet you knew deep down it was all but a façade to mask the void that your mother left in his heart. There were many nights you’d caught him staring into the distance in a secluded place, away from the hustle and bustle at the hotel. You loved your father dearly, wanting nothing else for him but the happiness he truly deserves. 

When you had turned of age, you insisted on taking over the hotel in your father’s stead. You knew that your mother’s passing had been a toll too great to bear for your father, especially in a place where he is constantly reminded of her. You wanted him to enjoy his life, to bring back the life in his eyes, however ironic it may sound as part of the undead. 

Your father had disapproved of the idea at first, reasoning out that it was too big of a responsibility to hand over. He’d told you that you were still young and he wanted you to enjoy your life while you still could. With your adamancy and endless prodding, you had finally convinced him to cave in. Besides, you’re pretty sure you’ll stay young for a long time.

As you have taken on the commitment of being the lady of the house, or hotel rather, your father spent his time moving from one place to another, taking on different identities so as not to reveal his real one. When you were just starting out with your duties as the new hotelier a few years back, he couldn’t leave you behind for a day, checking up on you every two hours just in case an emergency occurs. As if something drastic could happen when more than half of your customers are already dead. 

Years pass by and hourly check-ups became daily ones and then weekly afterwards, until he calls you from halfway across the world every once in a while, just to tease you if the hotel was just as great as he left it. You hadn’t actually seen him in a year, apparently ‘busy’ with his new business venture in Amsterdam.

That’s why when you pick up his scent nearby, you momentarily stop in your tracks. It isn't exactly unusual for your father to have impromptu visits, but you’ve learned that it’s highly unlikely for your father to drop by at such a time like this. 

He avoids peak season at Tersnoa like the plague, let alone a Friday the 13th special like today, in addition to the most anticipated week-long celebration of the hotel’s six hundred and sixty-sixth anniversary. Your father steers clear of times like these at all costs, always making up excuses to avoid the crowd and the stress that comes with it. So much for being the past manager.

You can’t really hold it against him, as it surely has been an arduous feat having run the hotel for almost two centuries. Even though you both laugh it off whenever you tease him about it, you know deep down he genuinely enjoys attending to his customers and making sure they get the best customer service. 

A scoff escapes your lips when you see the infamous Drac-cape nearing. You’re mildly tempted to ignore him altogether, not wanting to be involved with someone who wore something that has run out of style decades ago. Secondhand embarrassment is a thing, and it’s very real.

You have already lost count of the times you’ve told him to get rid of the ridiculous piece of clothing, yet he dismisses you every time, clinging onto the nostalgic feeling that comes with the cape. In consideration of your request, your father had gone so far as acquiring the services of a handful of stylists to make some alterations to the design, and you have to say you’re pretty impressed with the outcome. What else could you have said? The Drac-cape was old but gold. 

You’re about to greet him when a staff approaches you, holding out a folder with papers that require your signatures. Your father stands a meter away with a proud smile, watching you with fondness in his eyes. Once you finish with the papers, he calls out, “Ah, my princess,” arms wide open to greet you with a hug. He’s the first to pull away, hands still resting on your shoulders as he takes a good look at you. “You grow up so fast!” he says jokingly with a wide smile plastered on his face as he pinches your cheeks. 

There’s something off though, something suspicious behind that painstakingly dubious grin on his face. Smiling wasn’t something your father was fond of doing especially in public - too deep into portraying the character of the dark and brooding Dracula depicted in human children’s stories. Plus, your fangs sometimes get in the way, so smiling isn’t really a preferable option. 

Before you get the chance to ask about his sudden visit, another staff member approaches you, another folder in hand. Your father shoos you away before you object, dragged away by your duties for the millionth time tonight. 

“What is it now?” you ask the skeleton beside you, every sound of his movement resembling that of a marimba. “Your presence is being requested by Ms. Catherine at her party, Countess.” 

You’d almost forgotten your cousin Catherine had rented out the hotel’s rooftop to celebrate her engagement to her long-time boyfriend Jericho. You’ve already congratulated and apologized to her plenty of times prior to this day, already knowing that you won't be able to celebrate it properly because of the events being held at the hotel. With the hectic schedule you were running on, you just realized that you hadn't visited her all day. 

It had been a very long week, and you were tired to the bone, but the guilt of not being physically present at her party was gnawing at you endlessly. Almost reaching the point that you forgot your father was just in front of you mere seconds ago - and now he’s disappeared, again. 

Heeding to your cousin’s call, you decide to leave the area, leaving a puff of smoke behind you. You reappear the same way at the rooftop, just beside Catherine herself, who looked like she was hiding from someone, crouched behind a table. 

“Who are you guys hiding f-” Unable to finish your sentence with Cat shushing you, you crane your neck up a little, glancing at the others who were in similar dispositions. Weren’t they all too old to do this in an engagement party? Or was this a new trend Cat wanted to start? 

Your heart clenches nevertheless at the hilarious attempt to hide from whoever or whatever it is they were hiding from. It was quite the scene: an orange tentacle slithering its way to steal a cupcake by the buffet table, Barry Blob thinks he can camouflage as jelly, and Bigfoot was… well, let’s just say he was never meant for a game of hide and seek. The only monster one would have expected to be good at this was your uncle Griffin who was born invisible but he was always the one first spotted because he thinks wearing disguises like a hot pink wig (his choice of the day) would make him unnoticeable. 

And yet this is what they supposedly call ‘hiding’. 

“Is this the new norm during engagement parties? Hiding from the responsibilities of married life I see,” you suppress a snicker with your palm, and when Cat looks back at you to shut you up, she screams with such fright, alarming everybody on the rooftop. 

“Surprise!” Mandy Mummy, one of your closest friends, appears from the other side of the table.  

“You guys were meant to surprise me?” Your brows furrow. “Are you all sure? What’s the occasion?” 

Frankie Frankenstein emerges from behind the bar, throwing a suspicious look at you. “You’re kidding me, right?”  

You look at the others in the hopes of finding a hint behind what was really going on, but Cat beats you to it, extending her arms out as she beckons you closer, “I don’t know how a monster could possibly forget the day she was born, but we’re here now so, happy birthday my dearest forgetful cousin!” Cat gives you an extra slap on your ass in greeting. 

Realization finally hits you, reminiscing the short moments throughout the day that had hinted on your birthday. You did see a few of your staff nudge each other in your presence, but you only thought it was because they were hesitant to say something when they knew that it had been a hectic week so far, tight schedules and all. 

The rest of the crowd clear out, revealing themselves from their hiding places. Your father appears from one side, carrying a dangerously huge three-tiered cake. 

Mandy approaches first, narrowing her eyes at you, “Wait, you seriously forgot your own birthday?” Cat answers in your stead, “She did,” while she points a finger to her temple, reiterating her capability of subjective precognition to the rest of the group. 

“Uncle Drac! Can you remind me again how are we related?” 

“I wanted to ask the same thing!” Your father exclaims, grabbing a glass of champagne from a gargoyle waiter and trailing off to greet his friends. 

“Cat, you know I’ve been busy for so long, I don’t exactly have a birthday countdown every year to remind me of something that is...not really that significant.” 

“______, I know we’re practically dead, but that doesn’t mean you have to live like one.” 

“Why don’t you try living in my shoes then, hm?” 

“I would, if they were Valentinos.” Unable to rack your brain for a smarter response, you roll your eyes at her instead. The guests start singing happy birthday in chorus as they near you. The night continues on a light note, people wishing you another year of happiness and prosperity, likewise congratulating your cousin for her engagement and her soon wedding. 

As the conversation eventually moves on to wedding preparations, Frankie spills on the details of Cat’s plans for her bachelorette party. You weren’t so keen with the idea - not when this was the first time it had been offered by the people closest to you. 

Bachelorette parties were primarily a human thing - some sort of commemoration of debauchery as you had understood from Google when you had looked it up a few years ago. These kinds of celebrations weren’t exactly included in your traditions but judging by the photos you’ve seen online; you’re sort of glad this wasn’t classified as the norm in your world yet. 

Cocktail parties with half-naked bartenders? Masseurs drenched in vaseline? Topless butlers serving dinner? What was with having male nudity as the baseline for such an occasion? 

You didn’t think this was going to be a trend in the monster-verse anyways, as your kind comes in different shapes and sizes and these parties just might end up with one seeing a lot more than necessary. 

When you try to confirm the plans with Catherine, she just shrugs at you three, telling you all that it was going to be a surprise. You, Mandy, and Frankie groan in unison at her reply. 

“Impatient much? You still have the whole day tomorrow to pack your things.” 

“We’re going on a trip?! And you’re telling me about this just now? A day before our leave?!” 

“Yeap. How long does it take you to pack your clothes?” 

“Do you not realize that I have a whole ass hotel to manage? I mean it’s not like I don’t want to go but surely, all my responsibilities cannot be handed over in a span of twenty-four hours? Plus, our week-long six hundred and sixty-sixth anniversary special isn’t over yet! You could have at least told me two weeks ahead?”

Someone places a hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see your own father smiling at you. “You’re just like your mother, darling. Stop worrying so much!” 

“Exactly why I told him instead,” Cat raises her eyebrows at you as she points to your father. “Catherine’s right. So, I’ll be taking care of the hotel while you girls have some girly time by yourselves,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Are you sure you can handle Hotel Tersnoa?” Your father almost spits out the champagne as he looks at you incredulously. “Excuse me? Need I remind you who handed the hotel over to you?” 

“I know, it’s just… a lot has changed. We’ve expanded the hotel, there’s now a theme park, and a new island has just been opened… it can be a lot…” 

Your father dismisses your worries with a wave and a kiss on your forehead. “Nothing I’ve never done before. You’ll be back before you know it. What could possibly go wrong?” 

Right. Your father’s words echo in your head. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

“A cruise?!” 

You’d gone through hours of travel, your ass was hurting from the prolonged sitting, and Catherine had not once told you where you were headed, mouth zipped shut. And yet here you were, mouth agape in shock – the betrayal, the treachery, the deception.

Docked in front of you is a humongous white ship, honking its siren with all its might. You’re struggling with attempting to even comprehend the entire situation. Your cousin did not just drag you out of your hotel to another… hotel...on water. 

“Welcome to the Bermuda Triangle, where you’ll embark on a monster cruise of a lifetime,” announces a fish-man or man-fish creature clad in a sailorman’s outfit (well he was definitely a fish, but had the limbs of man). All your expectations for this trip had just been obliterated by a singular monotonous, unidentifiable being. 

“Psst. Why is your face like that? I heard the fare was astronomical!” Frankie whispers when Mandy squishes between you two, trying to get a brochure from a stall nearby.

Everybody knew Cat was more than willing to spend her money on anything she has set her eyes on (just like that exclusive collection of Hermes bags she has back home) and actively looks for other ways to spend her money (such is a costly cruise) so this trip didn’t surprise you as much as it did Frankie. You’re wondering though, how she found out about this cruise and why she intends to celebrate her bachelorette’s party here. 

If a disinterested man-fish was tasked to welcome its guests, well, you can tell there’s really nothing much to look forward to here. You just hope this cruise will give her money’s worth, or rather, at least half of it. 

“Hey! This looks amazing!” Mandy exclaims, flipping the colorful brochure over a couple times. “There’s even a waterpark, multiple dining options, bowling alleys, a theater…” 

“Sounds like everything you can do…at the hotel!” You can’t help the rising pitch of your voice by the end of your reply while your friends laugh at your indignance. Mandy and Frankie ignore your protests, while Cat whispers near you, “Wait ‘til you see the itinerary!” 

“Not you too?! Seriously though, I don’t get why you’ve chosen to do it here, instead of our own hotel…” you pout, head hung low. 

Cat pulls you aside, letting the other passengers move forward, “Listen to me darling, alright? All these months, years, all you did was work and work and work again, we barely had any time to hang out together just like the old times, so I figured a break from all your customer service shenanigans and let yourself be served for once. Take a vacation from running everyone else’s vacation. Is that alright with you?” 

Giving her an apologetic smile, you pull her into your arms for a tight hug. She wasn’t lying though when she said you had barely spent time with each other. Back when your father was still running the hotel, you’ve spent your early years always practically attached at the hip: from crying over your first boyfriends, through that emo high school phase, to pursuing several degrees, and to spontaneous trips halfway across the world when you were bored. 

“Plus, Jer and I intend to start a family as soon as we get married, so these girl trips won’t come by often all the more.” 

“You know I love you to the moon and back right? And will you stop making me feel like an aunt when I’m not yet one?! But, to be honest with you, that would be really cute though! Little you and little Jerichos running around… but you know, if Jer will come close to laying a finger on you, just say the word…” 

“We zinged, darling. You have nothing to worry about. Maybe you’ll find your zing on the cruise too.”

You roll your eyes at her fondly. As if. 

It doesn’t change the fact that you still have second thoughts about this trip. Begrudgingly, you climb up the stairs, sulking as you watch your friends and the rest of the group of the monsters huddle in excitement as they ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the cruise’s features.

When you spot a few of Hotel Tersnoa’s beloved patrons in the group that arrived with you, your heart sinks a little, refusing to believe a fancy cruise could ever question their loyalty to the greatest monster hotel known to your kind. Guess nothing ever truly lasts, even with the undead.

You had initially expected the ship’s interiors with no sort of identity at all, resembling an array of badly mixed cocktails, individually appealing yet when put together looks like a lousy rainbow (you swear it’s not the spiteful hotelier inside you that’s speaking). Much to your chagrin though, the imaginary cruise you had inside your head was definitely not the case at all.

The rest of the monsters behind you continue to marvel at the cruise ship. And, quite frankly, you too are quite impressed yourself, as much as you hate to admit it. You’d never though such modern, minimalistic styling could fit a hotel on water but this cruise just seems to carry it pretty well.

The moment you set foot on the carpeted floors of the cruise, you’re awed at what seems like a celebration of the beauty of mother nature with nearly all furnishings made out of organic materials and colors exhibiting earthly hues. To add to the experience, preserved palm tress line the corridors and chandeliers made of LED lights litter the varnished high ceilings. It was like land on water – if that made any sense at all.

Man-fish continues to lead your group through the hallways, until you arrive at the main deck, just as picturesque as shown on the brochure Mandy held onto earlier. You were starting to realize why your cousin was into this whole cruise.

The creature half your height goes on to share a little history on the cruise ship – known as the Legacy. Similar to your hotel, cruising lines was also a family business for decades but it was only this year that the owners decided to extend the lines from taking human passengers to making a whole ship exclusively for monsters.

As this was the vessel’s maiden voyage and with your group being the first batch of guests to ever board the ship, a welcoming event was to happen tomorrow night, and the creature mentioned something about having the official invites placed in your rooms along with your luggage.

Right on cue, the moment you lean on the railing to overlook the deck below, a marching band appears from the side – a whole parade of man-fishes clad in band uniforms and red and gold. There’s even a few of them who start doing acrobatics, the sight of which has Frankie giggling to herself as she comes up with the term ‘fishcrobats’. She claims she’s the punniest monster in the universe.

The lights on the deck dim suddenly, and bright bursts of color start shooting up from a deck above you, fireworks lighting up the evening sky. It was a breathtaking display, with the others spiraling upwards while the rest exploded into a thousand more sparks. The display continues for a few more minutes, until the band makes a drumroll and a spotlight moves across the length of the ship and points at someone across the deck.

“Woah…” Mandy gapes, words drawling out to a low whistle. “Who. Is. That.”

A man in an all-white dress uniform emerges from the upper deck. “Ahoy there! Welcome aboard! Bienvenido, Zdravstvuyte, Guten Tag, Bonjour! I am V, captain of the Legacy…” Applause follows as the fireworks die down completely. “And yes, I’m human, but don’t hold that against me.” The captain’s eyes scan the crowd until they meet yours. He winks.

As soon as the blonde-haired captain looks away, Frankie squeals in your ear. “He totally just winked at you!”

“No, he didn’t,” you retort, never having been so grateful for not having a pulse, else Frankie would have your heart beating out of your chest.

“Yes, he did.”

The two of you were about to start bickering about the wink when the captain continues, “I’m very excited to have each and every one of you onboard for our very first monster cruise!” As unusually graceful as nobody else could probably do, he slides down the railing of the stairs as if he were just gliding through thin air.

“You’ll enjoy gourmet dining, thrilling adventures, and non-stop entertainment – all on our way to our final destination: the lost city that isn’t lost anymore – Atlantis!”

Your jaw drops – not because Atlantis had ‘apparently’ been found, in fact, it was never lost in the first place; they just cut ties with surface dwellers because of damage brought about by water pollution. In your defense, it was the humans were uncontrollable with their despicable habits but you can’t really put the blame on the Atlantians. It was their home after all, and they only wanted to protect it. Just as you would with Tersnoa.

What truly surprised you though, was how he managed to snag a partnership with them when you had vying for one since you took over the hotel. Well, your business proposition was never officially offered on the table, but still! Perhaps, if you made an entrance as grand as him, you would have succeeded though.

It was getting crowded where you stood, and Mandy tugs at your hand, pulling you down to the lower deck. Begrudgingly, you go down the stairs, sulking as you watch your friends and the other monsters huddle in excitement. You even recognize a few of the other passengers who are likewise patrons of Tersnoa. Or at least they were, now. Guess nothing truly ever lasts, even with the undead.

He reaches the lower deck in no time, greeting the other monsters with a wave and a smile. When he nears and you get a better look at him, you feel your entire body shudder – in a strangely delightful way, wave after wave of this electric feeling reaching until the very tip of your toes.

It feels as if every vein inside of you is pulsating, despite being practically dead. You felt…alive. A million thoughts rush through your head, with your gut feeling telling you something that is almost unmistakable. You have never, ever felt this way before but your intuition tells you this is the exact embodiment of the stories you’ve heard so many times in your lifetime. Could it be? Was it even possible?

The sensation was inexplicable, foreign too, yet it felt right. Like… like it was meant to be, perfectly destined in the most peculiar of ways. Digging through your purse, you retrieve the small mirror inside made specifically for vampires. Taking a quick glance of your reflection on the glass, you take notice of your irises that have turned purple, almost lavender in color. Gulping, you return the mirror into your purse at once, confirming your suspicion.

You zinged.

With the captain.

Who was human.

Frankie nudges your shoulder when she notices you stiffening beside her. “Is everything okay?” You feel your friend’s blue, stitched hand land on your shoulder. Giving Frankie a short reassuring nod in response, she shrugs it off, not before hearing her mumble about noticing something different with your eyes. Thankfully, the manifestation of the zing comes in different ways with every monster specie, so Frankie wouldn’t get the hint that you’re in deep, deep trouble.

Years of listening to stories of your culture and traditions rush to your head, all with the same words resonating throughout your brain. ‘It can make you cry; it can make you high; but, one thing a zing never does is lie – for it stays with you until you die.’

Shaking your head, you attempt to rid your thoughts of this man. He shouldn’t be your zing; he can’t be your zing. This was a huge mistake. The must’ve made a mistake. How could the very kind of people who murdered your own would also be the one designated for you – a soulmate, in human’s terms. You don’t even know how you're supposed to react to such a thing. Was it a curse? A blessing perhaps?

You continue to watch the man in silence. Sweet baby Jesus, the visuals this man was bestowed with. Maybe the man up there was real after all, and he had spent all seven days to craft this ethereal being. Even if he was meters away, his mere presence already makes you weak in the knees – considering the fact that you really haven’t officially met the person.

With his almost unrealistic face, you’re left wondering if your bodily reactions were caused by your zing or the captain really holds such prowess over creatures of all kinds. You wonder if it’ll be easy to forget your painful past and move forward? Trust the zing like all monsters do?

After promulgating the greatness of the monster population and how big of an honor it is for him to hold the first ever monster cruise, he also apologizes afterwards on behalf of his fellow humans for the mistreatment of your kind, drawing nearer and nearer to your group, eyes trained on you when he’s not busy welcoming the other monsters.

In an attempt to keep yourself from trembling, you clasp your hands together. Momentarily taking his eyes off you as he greets another guest, Mandy leans toward you and nudges your rib, “That, my friend, is what you call: a hottie. Go get him, tiger!” Blinking your eyes, you recollect yourself, giving her a dubious look, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Honey, anyone with a single working eye can confirm to themselves that the captain has been hand-sculpted by the gods themselves. And don’t tell me you don’t notice the bed eyes he’s giving you the whole time,” Mandy chortles bandaged shoulders bumping against your own as she does. “Deny it all you want now, darling, but I have this gut feeling that the love boat will be sailing very soon.”

Just then, as if on cue, the captain makes a beeline for your group, a small sultry smile playing on his lips. You feel like your insides wanted to crumble into sand and disperse into thin air. God, the things this man does to you…Rather, the things you want him to do to you. Now, your own brain betrays you with inappropriate thoughts and he’s currently in front of you looking like a whole course meal. He has such pretty eyes too and oh- this is bad. This is very bad.

“Ah, if it isn’t the one and only Countess Dracula,” he says, voice low as his eyes bore themselves into your soul (as if you still had one). “May I?” The captain takes your hand in his and gingerly places a kiss on the back of your palm. You’re rendered speechless by the small gesture, while the rest of your friends gape at the captain like he had suddenly grown three more heads.

“I’m known as V around here,” he keeps your hand in his, and you’re instantly all too conscious of everything – what if your hand was too cold for him? Or too clammy perhaps? All your worries are diminished when he doesn’t seem to take notice of any of your present worries, tugging you closer to him as he inches towards your face, warm breath fanning against your cheek, “but you can call me Taehyung.”

He pulls back just as slowly, sending you and your friends an innocent boxy smile. “Guess I’ll be seeing you lot around! Please enjoy the cruise. And remember, if there’s anything you need, feel free to approach me anytime.”

Walking away to attend to his captain-y duties, the three other girls gather around the moment he’s out of sight. “What. Was. That.” Catherine questions, punctuating each word with numerous blinks.

“I’ve already sent a prayer to Anubis to take care of our dear ______’s departed soul,” chimes Mandy, waving a hand in front of you in the hopes of taking you out of your shock.

“Whoosh! There goes _______’s undies!” Frankie adds as she throws her head back in laughter. Your cousin tsks at them to get them to stop teasing you, but with the smirk she’s sporting on her face, you’re certain she’s going to bring this up sooner or later.

With a deep sigh, you hang your head low. This was going to be a long vacation.

Right after Taehyung stages the entrance of the century and greets the cruise’s guests, he discreetly makes his way to a less crowded part of the ship and walks briskly along a dimly lit hallway. Pushing forward an inconspicuous panel on the wall leading to a secret passage, Taehyung silently makes his way done to the lower level of the ship.

The stateroom is almost pitch black as he enters; Taehyung feels his way through the room, solely relying on muscle memory to head to the bedroom. When he turns on the light to check on his great-grandfather, the old man squints, croaking out Taehyung’s name. Rushing to the elder’s side, the dutiful great-grandson pours water on the glass by the bedside table.

Taehyung perches himself on the edge of the bed, taking his great-grandfather’s frail hands in his own. “Dracula – is he on board?” the old man rasps, voice almost whispery. “No,” the younger man shakes his head in denial, “but his daughter is.”

The former winces a little when he tries to shift in his bed, “Even better. Tear him apart by slowly taking his loved ones away from him one by one. Let him feel the pain we had to go through.”

The blonde-haired captain sighs when his great-grandfather coughs again, wheezing as he does. “Promise me you’ll avenge our family, Taehyung. I’m not sure if I’m going to make it any longer, but if I won’t…” he coughs, the strain on his voice evident. “Grandpa, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” The old man waves his hand, dismissing Taehyung, “Promise me…for your mother, for your father, and the rest of our family. You and I are the only ones left, my dearest great-grandson. We have no one else to rely on but each other.” The old man’s hand clasp weakly against Taehyung’s.

He tucks his great-grandfather in his bed, and waits patiently for the old man to fall asleep before leaving the room.

You and the girls roam around the deck for a little longer, before deciding to call it a night and head to your rooms. It’s quite the walk all the way there, but as you get farther from the hustle and bustle of the crowd and onto a more secluded part of the vessel, not to mention the rooms are getting father apart from each other, you suppose Cat had picked the best suites available on the cruise. Typical.

Not putting much thought into it with exhaustion taking over your body, you tiredly take a half body bath and head to bed.

Rising a few hours later, you plan on checking out your cousin’s accommodation choices. Just as man-fish had mentioned the night before, there was in fact an invitation placed on top of your bedside table, the gold linings too attractive to miss out on. How could you have possibly missed it though, is all up to your fatigue last night, far too tired to even scan the room.

Heading to the kitchen first to make yourself a cup of coffee, you’re greeted by the beautiful glow of the sunrise as you exit your bedroom. You’re momentarily stunned by the beauty of it, as it was your first after a long time to see the sun, or at least a quarter of it. Contrary to popular belief, sunlight doesn’t incinerate vampires, nor does it make you vanish into thin air. In fact, the closest stories had gotten to your biological truths was that sunlight made you weaker – sort of, because the only explanation for it was that you get really bad sunburn under its rays. But that’s nothing a small bottle of Witch Republic’s Suncream Lotion SPF 5000 can’t fix.

Equipped with a 60-inch smart television mounted on a wall, an equally large painting was hung across the room, serving itself as the background for the sitting area.

The fittings are generously provided for, if the room truly claims it to be a suite for couples: a settee is placed in front of the television for viewing purposes, and another is placed vertically across for lounging and enjoying the view of the balcony.

The balcony – was magnificent in all senses of the word. From a picture on the tiny ‘Legacy’ booklet you grabbed from the table, there really wasn’t much to a panoramic view of the sea but as you pass through the wide windows, the beautiful orange glow from the dawn adds a lovely burst of color in the predominantly monochrome furnishings of the room.

You inhale deeply, breathing in the fresh sea air. You spend a few more moments there, leaning over the balcony until Frankie ruins your moment from a couple of meters away, calling you loud enough for the rest of the ship and the Atlantic Ocean to hear. She drawls your name out, screaming her excitement over your rooms. “I haven’t slept like this since I got my arm re-stitched!” You laugh at her before waving and returning to the sitting room.

A part of you was taking mental notes – possible additions and improvements to your hotel, yet the other half of you wants to allow yourself to enjoy small pleasures like these. Maybe Cat was right all along, that you needed a break from running the hotel and truly relax for a while. With the size of this suite though, you can’t help but wonder if Cat got you all the couple suites solely for your enjoyment or hers.

You decide to take your mug of coffee with you to the balcony and breathe more of the satisfying sea air until the sun rises in its entirety and you retreat back to your room, wanting to sleep in the warm duvet of your bed once more. Maybe this vacation won’t be that bad after all.

Shopping with Catherine was never an easy task. If you could say so yourself, shopping with your cousin was a whole workout on its own.

It’s been three hours since she’s dragged you, Mandy, and Frankie out of your rooms and offered you a shopping spree and free lunch. Who was one to deny such graces? Even when all three of you knew you all would end up following your cousin wherever she went until you’d all complain about how she has to take too long when she always ends up buying everything she sees anyways.

As you stare at your seated self by the full-length mirror, you start to have second thoughts about discontinuing that beginner’s program subscription in yoga before you let Catherine drag you out of the comfort of your room. Sighing in defeat, Frankie turns to you with a similar expression on her face.

Starving, the three of you leave Cat momentarily to look for something to eat, and at the sight of a frozen yogurt stall across the hallway from where you’re seated by the Chanel windows, you and the rest of the girls immediately saunter towards the quaint stall.

While you wait for the girl to finish up your orders, your eyes are busy wandering all over the place in an attempt to count how many shops and boutiques they managed to allocate inside the cruise ship. Guess your hotelier side is already one with your true self.

As you watch a loud group of male monsters exit the arcade nearby, you catch sight of someone awfully familiar: the last face you’d want to see when you’re stuck inside a cruise ship for a few weeks.

Your eyes follow the group, wanting to make sure your eyes are not playing tricks on you. Like a hawk, you watch the group closely – one man in particular, yet he won't seem to look in your direction. You wanted to forget all about it and pretend you didn’t see anything, but you figure this is going to cause you a number of sleepless nights if you don’t. Quickly, you resort to a plan that will have to cost you more energy than just observing, but you were determined to make sure that it was really him.

Focusing your vision on a nearby potted plant, you make the clay vessel move an inch as you try to catch his attention. The first try doesn’t work and neither does the second. Hell bent on your resolution, the third time works the charm (obviously with a more significant amount of distance the plant has moved).

Your suspicions are confirmed – it’s truly him.

Just like that, all sorts of emotions course through you and you feel the corners of your eyes starting to well with tears. He laughs at something one of his companions say, and you feel your heart clench as you look at the same smile you fell for years ago.

It’s takes you a while before you process somebody has been calling you name several times, then you see Mandy waving her hand in front of you. “You okay there? What happened?”

Etching an ingenuine smile on your face, you turn to face her as she hands you the dessert, “Nothing…just thought I saw someone familiar…”

“Mhmm,” Frankie hums, scooping a large portion of yogurt into her mouth, “as long as it’s not you-know-who, then it’s irrelevant,”

“Actually, I think it is him.”

Frankie chokes on the sliced strawberry topping she just ate. “What?!” Mandy places a hand on your shoulder, an apologetic look on her face. “Don’t tell me that fucker is also here?!” Shushing her quickly, you reach out to her to tug at her arm to keep her quiet.

“What fucker are you talking about?” Catherine questions, approaching the three of you with two extra paper bags in her hand. Frankie keeps her mouth shut, thankfully while Mandy comes in to the rescue. “Frankie was just talking about how fucking tasty this froyo is. In fact, I think so too – would you like to try some?” The girl offers her cup, eventually feeding Cat with a spoonful of fruity toppings.

The subject is quickly diverted and as your cousin rummages through her bag to look for the cruise’s official pamphlet, both Frankie and Mandy give you a knowing look.

“Lunch anyone?” You propose to the other three, already wishing you’d soon be forgetting about even seeing your ex-fiancée earlier. 

You’d gotten back to your room around half past five, nearly collapsing to the floor after hours and hours of shopping with your cousin. The girls had agreed to use your room to prepare for the party later (one discussion you don’t remember agreeing to) and had gone around the sitting area, placing their bags done and going through their purchases.

You, on the other hand, had gone straight to the kitchen to look for something to drink. Besides, you just know they’re going to ask for something too later on, so you just grab a few bottles of water for the girls. As you rested against the cool fridge while opening a bottle of your own, you spot a punnet of strawberries sitting on top of a counter.

“Did any one of you bring strawberries here before we left?”

When they chorused their replies of denial, you check the strawberries warily, lifting them off the marble top. You hear something slide down when you open the container. A card came in with the strawberries.

Returning to the living room with strawberries in one hand and the card in the other, Frankie stands from the settee and snatches the card away from you. She waves the small piece of paper in the air, claiming it was a love letter. “Dear _______, I really think you’ve got a wonderful smile, but it’d be better if it was the only thing you’ll be wearing tonight!” she says, pretending to read the note.

“What?! You’ve already made a move without telling us about it? Lemme see!” Mandy exclaims, running after your stitched friend.

“Oh!” Frankie says, pointing to the sky, “Looks like we might be expecting a few inches tonight, hmm?” she adds, snickering as she pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue repeatedly, and rather inappropriately.

“Y’all disgusting really. ‘M going to shower.”

“Make sure you don’t have too much fun with the showerhead!”

“Fuck you Mandy!”

“I would if you were my type!”

Catherine waits until she hears the water running before turning to her two friends left at the sitting area. “I’m worried.”

“About?”

“My cousin.” The eldest of the girls says, tapping her nails against the couch – a nervous habit. Frankie sets the card back down and nests herself on the carpet just across Cat. “What is there to worry about?”

“This thing between my cousin and the captain?” Carding her fingers through her hair, she closes her eyes before continuing, “Does the fact that he’s human not bother you…at all?”

“The dude’s harmless! And he better think it through when he tries to do something – he’s literally in a ship full of monsters. Do something dumb, he can get his head bitten off in no less than two seconds.”

Catherine is not convinced.

“Plus, I’m sure it’s just a one-time fling – surely, ______’s smart enough to know that. I just firmly believe that one must get laid regularly because penetrative sex is medicinal. And who knows? There might be cobwebs down there already!” Frankie adds.

Cat flings a brochure at Frankie before scrolling through her phone’s gallery then stopping at a portrait of you and her. “I’m just concerned about _____’s wellbeing. This is the most time we’ve spent together for the past two years, and I’m not even sure if she’s fully recovered from what she’d been through with you-know-who.”

“Even worse, what if she falls for the dude? Or she zinged? Or they both zinged?!”

“Hey, hey…” Mandy scoots over to Cat’s side and wraps an arm across her shoulder, “you’re overthinking now babe, and! This is your bachelorette party, stop worrying about stuff. _____ is a strong, independent woman. If she can handle the best hotel in monster history, then handling a man will be too easy.”

“Come out already!” Mandy whines impatiently from outside, knocking impatiently on your bathroom door. You smooth a few creases on your dress before you open the door to reveal your outfit. Shock was a heavy understatement. Cat’s usually beautiful features twist into one of distaste, Mandy pretends to gag at the sight, and Frankie avoids your gaze as she purses her lips.

You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your throat when they look at you up then down, scrutinizing your fashion choices.

“What. The hell. Is that?!”

“Why are you too covered up?”

Their hostilities continue as you give them a twirl, genuinely confused with their reactions when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with choosing a long-sleeved rayon blouse with ruffles in the front and a green pleated skirt.

“You didn’t tell me you’re meant to apply for the queen’s secretary?” Frankie questions, rummaging through your luggage.

“You mean Queen Elizabeth I?” Mandy adds, snickering along with the rest of the girls.

“Hey! G4 says she was pretty! And educated for her time too!” you cry in protest.

“Same with you darling. But it’s a party we’re attending and not a royal appointment, so will you do me a favor and wear this instead?”

Your mouth falls agape in shock.

“What?! This dress is… is barely covering anything!” You look closely at the satin blood-red piece of clothing as Catherine hands it to you. Needless to say, just looking at it was a cultural reset.

“Glad to know you’re unaware of that point.” Mandy butts in, “you’ll be happy to know that this dress will get you a man in no time either way.”

“Either way?” Frankie questions before leaving your room to looks for heels to go with your dress.

“Yeap,” the mummy replies, touching up her make-up, “Either you get a man who will cover you up or you’ll find one who will gladly take it off for you later tonight

Catherine coughs, “The captain,” winking at you while she pushes you towards the bathroom, “Chop chop now dear! We still have a party to attend to tonight!”

The party is already in full swing by the time the four of you arrive. The crisp, chilly air hits your face as you get to the main deck, and as you wrap your arms around yourself, you know you're already regretting having worn Catherine’s dress. Arms bare, half of your back out in the open, and a thigh-high slit? Really? A towel could’ve afforded you more modesty than this dress.

Mandy immediately heads to bar, leaving you all to ‘pick your poison for tonight’. Pursing your lips at your mummified friend, you trail after your cousin as she looks for a table to settle yourselves in. You scan the crowd, watching the other monsters move to beat of the music, and also, just in case someone you don’t want to see decides to show up again out of nowhere.

Mandy finds you shortly afterwards with a waiter trailing behind her, carrying a tray of ambiguous looking chalices. Oh boy.

This night was headed straight to hell.

Nearly an hour later, you practically waddle back to your table, breathless and throat parched as the desert. Catherine clings onto you like her Hermes Himalaya Birkin, just as exhausted as you were. Why do you always seem to forget that Mandy dragging your asses to the dance floor has never been the smartest choice?

The moment you get back to your table, you reach for the bronze goblet and down the rest of your drink. The distinctive burn has you keening, tightening your fingers around its stem. Beside you, Catherine coughs after she takes a sip of hers – “What the fuck is in this drink?? Methane?!”

“Throat…on fire…I feel like a fucking dragon,” you attest, voice raspy.

“That, my dear girlfriends, has been mixed by yours truly,” Mandy announces with a proud smile on her face. “I call it the Devil’s Piss.”

You shake your head at her, rubbing at your temples. Starting to feel the sweat break at your hairline, you want nothing more than to return to your suite and sleep the night away. Closing your eyes, you draw a calm scene inside your head: watching the sun set by your balcony as you sip on your hot chocolate –

Your dreams of orange skies and the soft breeze are cut short when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Countess, the captain requests your presence on the bridge.” Your eyes follow the direction of where he was pointing and see a pair of eyes staring back at you.

Perhaps sleep could stay second on your list tonight.

Cat wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as you bow your head in embarrassment, your cheeks flushing when the rest of the girls whistle and howl as the man-fish stoically escorts you to the bridge. Once you arrive at the top of the stairs, the man adjusts your grip on his elbow as he gently takes your hand and stretches it forward for you to continue on by yourself. “The captain will be waiting inside, Countess” He bows curtly, and your left on your own to walk towards the bridge.

“Countess.” There’s the low timbre of his voice again, sending shivers down your spine effortlessly as you close the door behind you. He doesn’t speak after that, just taking in what you’re wearing tonight, subconsciously biting on his bottom lip as he takes in the outfit your friends have chosen for you.

Every step you take is wobbly, like your legs have turned into goo. The chilly breeze up here is likewise not helping your skin already prickled with goosebumps.

“_______,” Taehyung grabs your hand and gently places a kiss on the back of your palm. Another strike of electricity shoots up your spine at the small gesture. Goodness, what the hell was going on with you?

“Y-you don’t have to do this e-every time we meet.” Inwardly cringing at your shaky voice, you look away and exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t help.

Especially not when the captain is less than an arm-length away, and being able to see him this close is doing dangerous things to you. “This is the first time I’ve been on a ship’s bridge,” you comment lamely, keeping the conversation on a sane note. The thirsty ass hoe inside you doesn’t seem to approve of the idea though, unfortunately.

“Really now? How is your first time on the bridge then?”

“It’s…different.”

“Different? How so?”

“Different from trying to run a hotel I guess, which was all I was doing for the past few years…It’s an unlikely comparison, I know, but being here…it’s like you get to oversee everything from the bridge, which I never get when I’m back home, like…you know you’re in control?” You were merely blabbering at this point, but then again, your brain loses control of your bodily functions when you're in close proximity with this man.

“You like being in control then?”

The tiny creaking sound coming from the floor tells you he’s taken a step closer to you, and the warmth coming from him is driving you insane. Damn this bloody dress of Catherine. You’re at a loss for words, neurons short-circuiting at both his question and how it’s equally chilly and hot at the same time in this small space.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much that you can't seem to find the appropriate words to voice out a reply, instead, you just turn around to face him. A gasp escapes your lips when you accidentally bump into his chest when you do so.

“Oh! Crap! I-I’m sorry…” You apologize meekly, fiddling with your hands and refusing to meet his eyes at all costs. The captain places your chin between his fingers and lifts your face for him to look at. He doesn’t say a word either, instead, just leans down and captures your lips in a feverish kiss.

Surprised – was an understatement. You hadn’t really expected him to call you over to the bridge and the next thing you knew he’s already kissing you. He immediately pulls away when you don’t reciprocate, apologizing profusely and mumbling about misplaced affections.

“No!” You exclaim, causing the captain to jump a little. You gather your courage and rub at your temples. “I mean…Captain V, your affections have not been misplaced, it’s just this…monster thing that has me acting like this the whole time, and I really have zero control over it and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence as you feel his warm, moist lips on yours again. His strawberry-tasting lips glide over yours smoothly that you find yourself leaning towards him as you melt into the kiss. You’re first to pull away this time, breathless. “Forgive me, Countess…I’ve been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you on this ship,” he says, cupping your face as he rests his forehead against yours. “So beautiful,” Taehyung whispers against the shell of your ear and trails a finger from your cheek and eventually down to your collarbones as he ogles the cleavage Cat’s dress had generously given you tonight.

“Taehyung.” He places a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “Call me Taehyung, please.” He smooths his hand over your hips, tightening his grip as he pulls you closer and kisses you once more. You feel something hard against your stomach – oh. Your mouth parts when he starts to grind, slowly and devilishly against you and he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His gaze darkens when he sees the expanse of skin the slit of your dress reveals as you shift your legs, thigh now out in the open. Attaching his lips to yours again, Taehyung distracts you from the way his slender fingers dance their way up dangerously near your core.

Your head bows in embarrassment when you remember Mandy checking if you’d worn the right underwear earlier, ‘If they’re not lace, they have to go.’ So when she busted inside the bathroom as you were changing into Cat’s clothes earlier and saw your favorite cotton panties (with an embroidered flower on the front), she quickly rips the material in distaste, strongly suggesting that commando is the way to go. It won't be long until Taehyung discovers –

“No panties huh?” Taehyung observes, voice low and deep. “Yes,” you reply breathily, closing your eyes as you ignore how you're throbbing all over in such a short period of time. You try to regain your wits back, your first zing too overwhelming that everything seems like a haze.

With a new, albeit questionable, surge of courage, you move your hand to palm him through his pants. When Taehyung bares his neck to you to elicit a groan, your head subconsciously dips towards the spot where you feel his pulse the strongest. In an instant, your primal instincts begin to take over you, baring your fangs and grazing them dangerously against his skin.

Holy fuck.

This man was going to be the cause of your death.

It’s been a while since you’ve been in close proximity with a human, and being this close to the captain has stirred up something inside of you that you never knew still existed.

Back in the days when humans had mingled freely with your kind, witches had placed suppressants in the Tersnoan atmosphere so that a monster’s primal instincts won't ever be able to take over your diplomatic selves.

Now that you were much older with fully developed senses, being this close to a human with no suppressants whatsoever had inevitably awakened your inborn vampiric tendencies.

Needless to say, your generation of vampires had gone ‘vegetarian’ in a sense. Your lifestyle no longer consisted of hunting down people for food, but you opted for a healthier alternative and a more convenient source of food: coconut juice. Besides, human blood never really came in highly recommended by the older generations, claiming it tasted like loneliness and despair.

What they failed to warn you of, however, was how intense the urge was once you were only a hair-breadth away from a human being who is very much alive. The temptation was getting stronger by the second, and the pulse coming from Taehyung’s jugular vein was ringing loudly in your ears.

Both the desires of hunt and lust were slowly taking over you, your judgment, and your irises, and your lips quake ever so gently at the excitement coursing through your veins. As you feel your irises change its color from their natural ones, to purple then to gold afterwards, the surprise in Taehyung’s eyes has gotten prominent, yet, with astounding self-control, he manages to keep the rest of his body calm and collected.

He gulps at the small smirk that plays on your lips, “To answer your question, I like being in control,” you say lowly, grazing the tip of your nail against his jawline, “but only when the need arises so.”

For a moment, you sense his fright with your golden eyes and fangs on display, but you feel it dissipate quickly when you bunch his shirt in your fists and pull him closer to you. Taehyung then takes this as a cue to continue his torment of his featherlight touches, causing you to lean against the wheel as your head falls backward at the sensation.

Brazenly, he hooks a hand under your thigh and wraps your leg around his hip, allowing himself to grind harder against you, the friction of his dress pants against your bare heat sending you to a state of near delirium. The moment is cut short however as you both hear footsteps approaching the bridge. The captain puts your leg down as abruptly as he hooked his arm underneath it earlier.

As you wait for the two man-fish creatures to pass by the wheelhouse, you and the captain keep a modest gap between each other, letting the staff move across the bridge and until they take their positions by the front portion of the deck. Just as if the captain wasn’t groping you merely seconds ago.

The moment they’re out of sight, Taehyung closes the distance between the both of you, resting his weight on you as he presses you further onto the wheel of the ship. Subconsciously, you bite your lip as you feel his boner practically begging for your attention.

His actions are hastier this time around, and quite frankly, you're glad he has managed to equal the same level of urgency you had. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to hold onto your sanity with the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Else, you’d be taking the matter in your own hands.

Every contact of Taehyung’s skin with yours has you skin ablaze, and you’re unsure if it’s due to the (partly) shameful fact that you haven’t been this intimate with someone for the past few years that you're this responsive. He’s fondling your breasts with one hand, unabashedly tweaking and playing with your nipples. The other hand is busy squeezing your thighs, fingers dancing lightly across the exposed skin of your leg.

Your breath hitches as he unexpectedly cups your bare mound, digits swiping against your folds. Body quaking at the feeling, your body leans forward, but Taehyung has other plans, tugging you back harshly to his chest. “You think you can stay still for me sweetheart? You wouldn’t want my staff to think we’re christening the bridge, do you?”

Maybe, just maybe, the thought didn’t sound so bad?

“Oh?” Taehyung hisses when he feels your quick intake of breath at the thought. He finds your clit seconds later, rubbing the nub languidly, “you seem to like the idea, hmm?”

“Taehyung, please,” you beseech, leaning towards his touch and grinding your hips against his palm in desperation. You’re uncertain if this was an effect still caused by the zing but at this point, you just wanted a release from his relentless teasing and you’re more than willing to work for it if you have to.

The captain revels in your responsiveness and as a reward, he complies with your request, quickening his pace and toying your clit with more vigor than ever. Your hands, previously just as busy groping Taehyung, now shoots out to grip at the helm, your high approaching rapidly. He inserts a long, dexterous digit to accompany his other hand, helping you reach your climax faster. A second finger has you reeling, gripping the helm even tighter than before, knuckles turning white at the sheer strength. One kiss on your neck is all it takes, orgasming so hard that Taehyung has to hold you still lest you lose your balance.

You're still panting a minute later, having turned around and resting your hands on Taehyung’s chest for support. You both stay like that for a moment in each other’s arms, until you’re brought back to reality by the captain’s boner brushing against your tummy. “Can I?” you ask as you look up to him, thumbing the waistband of his dress pants.

“_______, darling, as much as I’d want to you right here, there’s too many of my staff roaming around the bridge for the night. And if these creatures walking about isn’t bothersome enough, it’s the fact that fish don’t blink either…so there’s that…” Taehyung states before placing a kiss on your shoulder. “If you desire so, I’d gladly continue this in my room…” the captain offers, looking at you expectantly as another pair of the fish men round the deck.

“I think we should go with that.”

He nods briefly, placing a wet kiss on your temple before taking your hand in his. Giddy as a teenager at the sight of her crush, you let him lead the way to his stateroom, unable to hide the shy smile on your lips. Once he leaves the wheelhouse to one of his first mates for the night, he squeezes your hand and continues on, palm contrastingly warm against yours as you walk to his room together.

“Did you enjoy the strawberries I had sent you earlier this evening?”

“Definitely. They’re one of the sweetest bunches I’ve tried in my life! Thanks for them by the way.”

“You did? They’re handpicked from our very own greenhouse on the ship!” Taehyung looks back at you with the brightest smile, eyes crinkling with the purest delight. Your heart crumples at the sight. How could the zing have possibly chosen this man for you – or worse, how are you supposed to deal with this type of duality?

One moment he’s brazenly fingering you inside the wheelhouse with blinkless staff roaming about and the next he’s talking about growing strawberries and how farming has been therapeutic for him. How is one man so devilish and wholesome at the same time?

Just like that, conversation flowed natural between the two of you: the similarities of having to run a hotel (as well as a heated debate on whether or not a hotel on land or on water is easier to manage), hobbies you enjoy on a spiritual level, and a few bits and pieces of him as Kim Taehyung and not the captain of The Legacy.

You’d just learned he doesn’t drink coffee, nor does he drink alcohol; he plays the saxophone and claims he’s pretty learned with the instrument; and that he loves taking photographs. In addition, he’d also told you about how he was born and raised in Korea hence the faint accent, but he’d grown up moving from place to place with his great-grandfather due to their family business, and that’s how their voyages helped him practice his English and even pick up a few foreign languages.

Your getting-to-know each other session is brought to a pause when the blonde-haired captain stops in front of a door in a dimly lit corridor. Quietly, he fishes for something inside his pockets, takes out his keycard and taps it against the door lock. Taking a peek from outside, you wait for him as he turns the lights on before following him inside.

Mouth agape as you enter, your eyes wander around his stateroom, marveling at the sheer grandeur of the captain’s living space. Just when you thought Catherine had given you and your friends the luxury of staying in a suite large enough to house a family of five, the captain’s stateroom on the other hand could easily pass for at least ten people.

Taehyung’s suite exactly looks like it came from a magazine spread, akin to a million-dollar apartment…at a high-rise residential tower…located in the middle of the busiest city in the world.

The captain lets you roam around his stateroom, a small smile playing on his lips as you gape over every detail in the room. It was modern interior design taking to a whole new level.

Monochromatic in a way, yet for some reason, he had it strategically designed to make it look more dynamic, alive somehow. You were no expert in the field of interior design, but with your modest experience in running a hotel (from choosing what type of cotton will be best for the beddings to organizing parties with more than a hundred participants), you could easily tell every nook and cranny of this room was heavily planned out.

Pointing at the stairs, you wordlessly ask for his permission if you could go up and check out the upper level. Taehyung doesn’t follow right after, momentarily heading to his kitchen. Significantly smaller than the lower floor, the second level houses his bedroom, with a heap of curtains serving as a divider and cover from those staying below.

His bedroom speaks more of him than any other part of the stateroom. Just as he mentioned earlier, there’s an open saxophone case on one corner, next to another black violin case. You also take notice of the makeshift tie hanger he’d made using the coat stand.

What truly catches your eyes though, is the array of photographs hung on the walls. It’s a mosaic of some sort, with photos spread from a corner then occupying half of the adjacent walls. Some are framed, some are printed on canvas, and a number are on photo paper and pasted on the beige wall. They’re caught on film, you reckon, with the distinct grainy resolution common amongst the photos.

Swiping your finger against the wooden frames of the pictures he’d hung, you study each photo thoroughly, trying to figure out the story behind each picture. There’s three more situated on his bedside table, Picking up the one with Taehyung smiling widely beside a boat’s mast.

“Ah, my first sail,” Taehyung says, taking a step near you. The tiny hairs on your nape stand at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. All of a sudden, you realize he’s standing too close – too close for you to remain sane.

You keep the framed photo in your hands, yet your thoughts have ultimately flown far away from whatever story was behind the picture; like how you hear his heart beat a little faster.

“Enough about me, countess,” the captain whispers as he places a hand over yours and guides yours back down to the bedside table. For a second there, you’d forgotten

For a second there, you’d almost forgotten he literally had the same fingers inside you just a few moments ago and that you’re now reminded of the main and sole purpose why you’re here in his bedroom.

“What about you?” Taehyung sets the strawberries down next to the photograph, then tucks a few strands of stray hair behind your ear. Each teasing touch is driving you closer to madness, like every move of his is calculated as if he knows he has this effect on you.

Lamely, you echo his words, “What about me?”

“Do you still want to look at more of my photographs or shall we continue what we started earlier?” It’s so awfully quiet inside the room that you basically hear yourself gulp at his proposal.

Weren’t your bodily reactions enough to serve as an answer?

You wanted to act less naïve (and appear a whole less desperate) that you’d imagined giving him a proper answer in your head, but here you were, stiff as a gargoyle statue, cowering beneath the warmth radiating off Taehyung.

Thoughts too haywire, you're unable to rack your brain for an appropriate reply, so you return the question to him: one with a double purpose – for him to ponder on and for you to recollect yourself. “What do you want?” Slowly, you turn to face him, bracing yourself for the hormonal uproar you are to experience.

The captain pouts cutely while in thought before darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. Taehyung gently brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingers subsequently tracing the outline of your collarbone. “I want,” he starts off, toying with the strap of your dress and wrapping it around his finger, “to take this off.”

Letting him slide the straps off your shoulders, you inhale deeply, anticipation doubling by the second. With your shoulders tense, the straps fall only until your elbows. Taehyung notices your hesitation and tenderly takes your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting your head up so he could face you properly.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Feeling sorry for him having to deal with your worries, you cup his beautiful face in your hands, “I want to. I really do – it’s just…it’s been a while.”

You're grateful when he leans toward your touch, sending a soft smile your way. “Of course, darling, we’ll take it slow.” Relaxing your shoulders, the thin straps of your dress fall down the length of your arm with the rest of the fabric following shortly after.

Core throbbing immensely with want, you take initiative this time, claiming his mouth with a newfound sense of courage and urgency. Your knees threaten to give in when he matches the intensity of your kiss. With haste, you thumb at the zipper of his pants, causing him to trip on his own feet and fall forward.

The blonde-haired man brings you down to bed with him, stretching his arm out just in time to break his fall, making sure he’s not resting too much of his weight on you. “What happened to taking it slow?”

Taehyung is just as breathless when he helps you with your predicament with his pants. “Fuck it, there’s plenty of time for that later but I need you,” you pant, unable and unwilling to keep your hands to yourself – brushing against his clothed erection, sliding them against his defined chest, wrapping your hands by his neck to pull him closer to you…

“I need you now, inside me, please Tae…”

He withdraws from your body and kneels by the edge of the bed. Legs already shamefully spread and ready, Taehyung rummages through the drawers of his bedside table, looking for something. At the mention of condoms under his breath, you wave at him, trying to catch his attention.

He turns to you, eyebrows raised. “No need. Human sperm can’t get us pregnant anyways. Are you clean?”

“Got checked three weeks ago, that good with you?”

You nod your head, beckoning him over. Taehyung wastes no time, taking his boxers off to free his dick from the confines of his underwear. He crawls over to you and places a kiss on each of your thighs before taking his cock and sliding it against your wet folds.

He uses yours and his essences as lubricant, jerking himself off first before pushing the red tip of his shaft slowly. In consideration of your own pleasure, he doesn’t rush his entrance, just pushing slowly then drawing it back to prep you properly.

Taehyung continues with that, until your hand shoots out to grab him by his wrist, giving him a tug to let him know you’re ready. Silently, he nods, this time pushing his cock inside until he’s fully seated inside your warm walls. “So t-tight.” Taehyung shivers when you experimentally clench around him.

“Babe,” the captain breathes out while heat rises to your face at the term of endearment. “Please don’t do that again, fuck, I might just cum early if… if…” Taehyung falls silent again, groaning as you clench one more time, “you're just one naughty girl aren’t you?”

When you shrug your shoulders in reply, it’s like something inside Taehyung snaps because he gives you a playful smirk before thrusting harshly. You mewl at the feeling, fingers tugging at his hair in encouragement.

“Y-you're so big,” you cry out as he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock deliciously brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust. “Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, continuing the fluid motion of his hips, “your pussy was made just to take me then.”

He goes almost animalistic, thrusting even deeper, stronger as he chases his high. “Think you can cum with me sweetheart?” Taehyung queries, pushing his hair back when he feels the edges of his fringe tickle your cheeks.

Taehyung deftly finds your clit while he’d continued his torment with his hips, a single moan coming from your mouth is all he needs before proceeding with abusing your nether nub. It doesn’t take you both much after that, both your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, one after the other.

A few more hours into the evening and you find yourselves still tangled in each other’s bodies, worshipping each and every inch of skin as you get overcome by lust over and over again.

Taehyung collapses to your side after what seems like… in fact, you’ve actually lost count of how many times you’ve climaxed. Panting, he looks at you with a smile reaching his eyes, “That was…” He’s at a loss for words but when he hears laughter bubble out of you at his cuteness, he joins in.

The laughter dies down, yet you’re still staring at each other – no words needed to explain what had just transpired between the both of you tonight. You stay still and contented, basking in the euphoric bliss. He says he can't stay awake any longer, bidding you a good night’s sleep and sweet dreams.

You manage to stay awake though, on the contrary, swearing to yourself you’d just seen his eyes flash lavender before falling into a deep slumber.

© joontier 2020

Send me your thoughts? x

[shouyouwrites]

hello i just found your blog and I love your writings!! 😍💕 And am very excited to see your requests are open🙈 can i have a scenerio or a headcanon (whichever makes you comfortable) of sakusa with a s/o who likes to paint and draw, like they can have paint on their face/hands/shirt for the whole day if nobody points it out.. and his s/o apartment is like sorta 'messy' thanks to those art tools and drawings, and it sometimes drives this poor germaphobe cutie crazy😂😂

hi sweetie!! thank you so much and thank you for your request, it was so cute! i realized that writing about sakusa being soft is truly therapeutic, and i’m not even exaggerating! i’m not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but i had so much fun with this, so i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕💕

When he first finds out about it, he’s just shocked, so much so that he doesn’t even know what to say. He’s still sort of getting to know you when you two start dating and even though he knows how much you love drawing, nothing could prepare him for the first time he steps foot into your apartment and finds it an absolute mess.

It’s not that it’s dirty, if anything your space is actually pretty clean so he allows himself to be happy for a couple of seconds, and that’s what makes it even more frustrating, because why couldn’t you just put your brushes and your paints where they belong after you’re done with them, he just doesn’t understand it.

He tells you so the first couple of times you two hang out in your apartment, which aren’t a lot because even though it’s clean he insists that you hang out in his apartment more because your art supplies are always all over the place.

You try your best to somehow find a way not to place everything in random places while you draw but you can’t help yourself, when you’re creating the only thing on your mind is the drawing and if you think too much about other random things you get distracted, and getting distracted is way worse than just having a messy apartment. So you tell him that you can’t stop doing it even though you do wish you could have everything a little more organized sometimes.

He doesn’t stop complaining altogether, but after a couple of fights between the two of you he doesn’t do it as often as time goes on, because he starts to get to know you better too and he realizes that art is a very big part of you and that you have a very special relationship with it just as he does with volleyball, and so he kind of lets it go and just refrains from being in your apartment all that often or for long periods of time.

It’s only when he happens to be in your place while you’re drawing that he finally understands what is actually going on and why your place is always such a mess after you’re done with painting. 

He can only look at you dumbfounded as you open the door and greet him with a smile, a very beautiful one that would’ve been absolutely perfect in his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that your face and hands were covered in paint in so many places.

“What happened?!” he asks, or something else along those lines, and you can only look at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m just painting, come in,” you say, and he reluctantly steps inside and tries to keep himself calm when he sees that your apartment is somehow even more of a mess than all the previous times he’s been here.

Oh, so this is what happens and that’s why the apartment is like that every time.

He gets to cleaning and putting stuff away where he thinks they probably belong as you paint, waiting for you to be done so you two can spend some time together.

In the middle of cleaning he’s trying so hard not to give in to the unbelievable urge to do something about your face and hands, but he doesn’t really succeed.

In the middle of cleaning up a little bit, he comes closer to you and insists you take a small break from painting, and you look at him in question but you agree nonetheless. He takes you to the bathroom and helps you clean your hands and face with so much water and soap that it’s ridiculous, but you find it so funny and cute that he’s so absolutely determined to remove the paint from your body.

He lets you get back to painting while he cleans up the rest of the apartment, and when he’s done and looks at you only to realize you managed to get paint on your hands again, he’s about to tell you to take another break, but then he looks, he really, truly looks at you and the way you work and he can only stare at you, frozen on the spot.

There’s a certain gentleness and confidence in your movements, as though you’re painting something you’ve already worked on more than a thousand times already, but he knows that isn’t the case, because he’s seen your work and this particular painting is unique, just like the rest.

He finds himself mesmerized by the focus and dedication you work with, he finds himself unable to look away from the pure happiness and calmness yet excitement that shine in your expression, he finds himself feeling oddly satisfied when you pause for a bit and frown, or when your lips turn into a thin line and your eyebrows furrow, when your movements become uncertain and yet you still manage to keep going, you still manage to keep drawing and eventually succeed because a smile is playing on your lips again.

He realizes as he watches you draw more and more as you two grow closer that he loves watching you as you do so, he gets used to the smell of paint and the way the whole room shines —the way you, yourself, shine— when you’re working on a painting or when you finish one.

He doesn’t like the mess or the fact that you manage to get paint all over yourself and your clothes every single time, but he finds the way you draw so absolutely endearing and it does things to his heart he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to put into words, things he doesn’t think he’ll ever be brave enough to admit out loud.

this was my first time writing about this bub so sorry if he was ooc- thank you for reading, here are my rules and masterlist! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

taglist: @haajiime @lcaita @teenitinygod @yams046 ily ♡ (send me an ask if you'd like to be added to my taglist or removed from it lovelies!)

[sage-nebula]

I’ve been thinking about what I would have liked a sequel to InuYasha to be like, since the official sequel has been such a disappointment (to say the least), so I figured I’d go ahead and post my thoughts. 

To start with, we’re keeping Moroha, and she would be the actual main character. She’s the daughter of the previous two main protagonists, her personality steals the show on the regular anyway, and the fact that she’s part demon while also having sacred priestess powers makes her far more interesting than simply doing half-demons 2.0. I’m not sorry.

So, the story. I imagine that hundreds and hundreds of years back, like well before Inuyasha was ever sealed to the Tree of Ages and all that drama with Kikyou and Naraku happened, there was a prophecy made by some kind of deity (or deity-like) figure. The prophecy was something like, when a demon had a child with a powerful priestess, that child would then end the warring period between demons and mortals—and would, in fact, put an end to demons altogether. In other words, the child of the demon and shrine maiden would lead to the modern era, where mortals still roam freely but demons are (typically) nowhere to be seen. Not many knew about this prophecy, but very powerful and high-ranking demons did (e.g. Kirinmaru, possibly Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru’s father), and because they didn’t want demons to disappear from the earth for very obvious reasons (even though the prophecy wasn’t clear on how that would happen), they made it a point to try to stop the birth of such a child from ever happening—or, if it did happen, they made it a point to kill said child as an infant before they could ever grow. 

Hundreds of years passed. For a time there was great concern over whether Kikyou would bear the child that would bring about the prophecy, given that she was a powerful priestess (the most powerful priestess) who had several half-demons interested in her. Fears waned a little when Inuyasha decided to become human like Kikyou, forsaking his demon half and therefore rendering the two of them unable to bring the prophecy to pass (and there was some argumentation over whether a half-demon could bring the prophecy to pass anyway, but the danger was too great to risk it in the minds of those who knew), but then all of that drama went down before he could, and Kikyou died before she could have a child with anyone, so it became a moot point.

Regardless, those hundreds of years passed, Kikyou was reborn as Kagome, Kagome and Inuyasha fell in love, and they ended up giving birth to a child, Moroha, who inherited both demonic powers from her father and sacred powers from her mother. And while it’s not as if someone was watching Inuyasha and Kagome on CCTV to stalk their every action, other parts of the prophecy (such as the full moon and sun both being present in the sky at the moment of the birth, which happened just as day broke, or stars falling the night of conception) lined up and made it clear that the prophecied birth had come to pass. Of course, neither Inuyasha nor Kagome knew of the prophecy, nor did anyone else in the village . . . but Kirinmaru, as mentioned before, did.

So Kirinmaru shows up some time after Moroha’s birth, when she’s still a baby, with the intent on killing her and probably her parents as well, for good measure, so they can’t have another one. He’s not alone; I’m unsure of whether Sesshoumaru would be with him or not in this version (because I feel Sesshoumaru would have complicated feelings on the issue; he doesn’t want demons to disappear but also he’s doubtful Inuyasha’s child could make that happen), but Kirinmaru would at least have his top four lackeys and possibly many other demons with him. Enough so that everyone in the village would be at significant risk. Of course Kagome and Inuyasha aren’t going down without a fight, but also a battleground is no place for a baby, so Kagome takes Moroha through the well (which we’ll say was working at this point in time) in order to have her family watch her. This serves two purposes: It gives Moroha a loving family to take care of her, with Kagome herself ensuring that happens, AND it allows us to show Kagome’s family after giving a frick about her potentially dying, which Yashahime failed to show with their non-reaction to her potentially having a child.

Of course, Kagome’s family doesn’t want her to return to the feudal era if there’s some huge battle going down, but Kagome promises that she will survive, and she will come back to get Moroha. She promises. So her family agrees to babysit Moroha, and Kagome returns to the feudal era . . . only to not come back. As a result, Moroha is raised by Souta and his family, and cherished by her grandma and great-grandpa, even though there is also an ever-present sorrow and grief because they believe Kagome must have died in the battle she spoke of. And Moroha does feel the love from her family, but also recognizes that they also see her dead mother whenever they look at her, so there’s that, too.

With that said, Kagome isn’t dead! She returns to the feudal era and things are indeed going badly (in a flashback we get plenty of “INUYASHAAAA” “KAGOMEEEEE” for old time’s sake), but I don’t want to kill either her or Inuyasha off. So instead, we’ll bring the Rainbow Pearls back into it. Like in the actual sequel, Inuyasha and Kagome end up sealed in one of the Rainbow Pearls. But the reason here is because Kirinmaru finds out that Kagome sent Moroha away to a place where he can no longer reach her, and he’s furious about it. But he also feels that, when she grows up, she will seek out her parents. So he figures, he’ll take her parents, seal them in a state where they can’t escape him, and then use them as bait. He’ll lure Moroha to him and kill her then. It’s a perfect plan. (And while I would want to seal Inuyasha and Kagome into the Tree of Ages since that’s their tree, at the same time, Kirinmaru can’t exactly take a whole ass tree with him. I mean, he could, but it’d kill it and probably end the sealing power. So.)

Years pass, Moroha grows. She can pretty much pass for a human girl aside from her fangs and her super senses / abilities, so she doesn’t feel like too much of an outcast in the human world. She's a little older than in Yashahime, maybe around 16, and as such was able to do at least a year or two of high school and has a few years experience in archery and kendo clubs as a result. But though she doesn’t feel like an outcast, Moroha has always been plagued by the feeling that there’s more to her story than she and her family know. She feels like there’s something missing, like the assumption that her mother died just isn’t right. This draws her back to the Bone-Eaters Well time and time again, and the final time (the one we see) Souta follows her there. They talk about Moroha’s feelings and her desire to know, and Souta tells her he think that she can make the trip—and that she should, if she can’t rest. He gives her Inuyasha’s robe of the fire rat (which I forgot to mention Moroha was swaddled in when Kagome took her through), as well as her bow and quiver from archery, and some other provisions. Then Moroha jumps through and returns to the feudal era.

So the main plot, or at least the one that Moroha is aware of at first, would be Moroha trying to figure out what happened to her parents, where they are, et cetera (and people like Miroku, Sango, and Shippou bursting out crying when they see that Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter did survive and is all grown up and looks so much like her parents). Then in the background of that is the prophecy and whether Moroha actually will carry it out or not. My thought is that she would, but it’s not that she kills all demons, because that’s pretty grim. Rather, it’s that the Rainbow Pearls would ultimately be used to seal or suppress demonic powers, with the implication that demons or people with demonic powers are very much still actually in the modern era, but they’re just sleeping, and could come back at any time. And perhaps this would be done at the end of her life rather than at the end of the series, I don’t know. But basically it would be written to explain the discrepancy of why there were demons and magic in the feudal era, but no longer in the modern era. It would make Kagome going back to the feudal era, meeting Inuyasha and building a family with him, something that actually needed to happen for her era to exist as it did at all. (So, a stable time loop, sort of.)

As for Sesshoumaru having daughters, I honestly really don’t think it’s necessary, but if he did they should be side characters (as in they can be part of the main group, but their story shouldn’t be the primary focus), and Kagura should be their mother. Since Kagura died, if we do still want them to be half-demons, then perhaps it could be that Sesshoumaru traveled to the modern era himself somehow to look for Moroha after Kagome sent her there (I don’t think the well would work for him, but this is a show about magic, he could find a way). He didn’t find Moroha, but he found Kagura’s modern reincarnation, a human woman who looked startlingly like her. He followed her around to figure out what was up with her, she thought he was a creep (albeit a very pretty creep), he eventually decides to leave her because she’s her own person and not Kagura, she follows him because she wants to know where he’s going, she ends up going back to the feudal era with him on accident, they travel together for a while, fall in love, have babies, etc. So I guess in that sense the mother of Sesshoumaru’s daughters wouldn’t actually be Kagura, just like Kagome is not Kikyou, but regardless, she’d be as close to Kagura as he could actually get and that’s better than the alternative that the fifteenth episode of Yashahime suggested, so I’d take it. (Granted I would have taken just about anything over that, but still.) With this scenario, Towa and Setsuna (if we kept those names) would be younger than Moroha, and would have been raised together in the feudal era. If they end up traveling with Moroha, perhaps it’s because Sesshoumaru sent them to do it by suggestion. The twins think they’re just ~bonding~ with their cousin, or at least helping her survive in an era she’s not familiar with, but also their father is using them to spy on her to see if there’s any chance she could bring about the prophecy.

So yeah, that’s what I got. If I’d been asked to come up with a sequel to Inuyasha, that’s what I would have written. Of course there are more details that would need to be ironed out, but nonetheless, we’d have a clear goal from the jump, the correct character would be the main character, and there wouldn’t be any child grooming or pedophilia. Win-win-win, honestly. We could have had it all.

[topherfoxtrot]

Seeking comfort ✨

I've been having some tought couple of weeks and wanted to imagine some comfort interactions with my comfort character John Walker. Hope y'all enjoy it. I'll try my best as usual. The reader is gender neutral and this fic is sfw. Mention of death of a relative.

It's been a month since half the population of the universe got snapped by Thanos. I've received a sudden promotion. I should be happy about it but I wasn't. My promotion, like the promotions of many of my coworkers was only a reminder that the previous person on the job was not longer part of existence. They were not dead, they simply vanished. They turned to dust. Stopped existing altogether.

I left my workplace at five. The bus had less people than it used to. There used to be those "familiar strangers", those people you don't actually knew but who were still a part of your routine because you shared a bus ride everyday. Now the bus was full of unfamiliar strangers again. According to the avengers the choice was random. I wonder if in some places no one got dusted at all. If some families were somehow still intact.

I tried not to think too much about it. Tried to focus on the present and on those who remained but it was just impossible. Everything reminded me of the snap in one way or another. Like my home. Coming home from work used to be good, my parents would be watching tv, and my dog would jump in my legs. My dog and my father got dusted. My mom didn't, but she was in the car with my dad. She wasn't quick enough to grab the wheel.

Now my home is just me. It has been for a month now but I still can't get used to it. The walls feel so cold and abandoned. So empty all the time. I got hit by a sudden urge not to go home. On the bus window I saw the city lights and the people walking around. I saw Custer's Grove High School, the school I attended as a teenager. I left the bus in front of it.

It was already dark so there was nobody there and the lights were all off. I walked in with no problem whatsoever. There used to be security guards there, one or two tops, but apparently those were vacant now like so many other jobs all around the world (and galaxy).

My footsteps made loud noises while I walked around the school. On the walls there were colorful cardboards with the names of snapped people. There were also photos and poems and flowers all around. It all felt wack for some reason. Pointless. If there was a heaven those people were not there. Were they even dead?

The football field was still as huge as I remember. I never liked being there. I didn't enjoy the games or the cheerleaders or the mascot. Now though the field made me feel good. Good and bad at the same time. Bittersweet. I sat in one of the stands like I've done so many times in the past. I took a deep breath and the cold air hurted my nostrils a little but I didn't care. It was indeed the first thing I felt the whole day.

I dived my face into my hands and without realizing it I started to cry. The tears flew around my fingers. Even though I knew I would feel better eventually, at that particular moment I felt like crap.

"Tough times huh?" I heard a male voice nearby and jumped in surprise.

The man seemed to be around my age. He was wearing a military uniform, was blond and that was pretty much all I could see with the darkness around us.

"Don't worry" he chuckled, "I won't tell anyone you're crying in a highschool field at night. Otherwise I'm gonna have to explain what I'm doing here!"

He got closer and I realized he also had tears in his eyes even though they looked dry now.

"I'm John Walker, by the way."

I said my name and shaked his hand.

"This is embarrassing." I poorly cleaned my face with the back of my hands.

"No, it isn't!" John reassured me, "We have all being crying. I mean it's the only option at this point."

"You're right. I wanted to ask if you've lost someone but it's pointless. Of course you have. We all have."

We both looked at the empty field for a second.

"I used to study here." I said.

"Yeah, me too. I was one of those jocks."

"I can see that!" I said, pointing at his uniform. We both chuckled. "Where were you?"

"Afghanistan. We all came back because of the snap."

"You were there when it happened?"

"Yeah..."

"War is hard in and on itself. I'm sorry John."

"Thanks." He smiled, "It means a lot."

I smiled back and suddenly felt the need to talk

"Can I vent real quick?"

"Please! This is why I came here in the first place!"

We both chuckled again. I stayed in silence a couple seconds gathering my thoughts.

"It's just that...everything just seems so pointless nowadays. I get up, go to work, come back home and go to sleep just to repeat everything the next day. But I can't find any joy in it because the people I would like to share this routine with are now gone. You understand me?"

"Yeah, totally!" John sighted, "I'm just so glad my girlfriend is still around."

"Your girlfriend didn't get snapped? You're one of the lucky ones, I see."

"Hardly!" John chuckled while tilting his head, "I mean I love her don't get me wrong!"

"Of course!"

"...But looking at the circumstances. It's all fucked up. I wanted to ask her hand, you know?"

"Oh my gosh really??"

"Yeah yeah I even bought the ring already."

He stopped talking and I felt the "but" building itself inside his head.

"But...?" I whispered.

"But..." He snapped his fingers and the gesture actually sent a shiver down my spine. "Not the best time for a party is it now?"

I took a deep breath.

"I just feel so lost."

"Me too."

"I had everything planned out, you know? But suddenly all my family is gone and I don't even now how my life is going to be next week. I don't feel safe or organized in any way."

I felt John touch his shoulder on mine. I appreciated the gesture and smiled. Abusing of his kindness I placed my head on John's shoulder. He shifted to a more comfortable position for both of us.

"I miss before." I said, "The world wasn't perfect by any means but waking up in the morning surely felt so much easier."

"I agree."

John and I stayed there for a while enjoying each other's company and silent comfort. Eventually I took my head off his shoulder. My chest felt lighter.

"You're a true hero John Walker."

"Please don't thank me for my service!" He smiled.

"Don't worry I won't. I will thank you for being here tonight. It feels good to share the grief."

"Thank you for being here tonight!" John replied, "I agree with everything you said."

I smiled at John and he smiled back. We hugged each other really tight and went to the bus stop together. And this is the story of how I cried in front of captain America that one time. Before he was Captain America of course!

[penaltbox]

begging for more - roman ahcan

to the anon who asked for this to get reposted - i forgot this needs a slight nsfw warning hahah. i hope you guys like it (again)! let me know if you do!

word count: 3.5k

__

“Tie or no tie?” Roman asks as he steps out of the bathroom, fixing his collar. 

You glance up from your phone and stare for a moment, forgetting that he’d planned to wear your favorite suit that night. The dark blue material with the brown belt and white shirt has you wanting to skip the banquet altogether, but you know he has to be there. 

You stand and walk over to him, helping him get his collar in the right place, “I like it without one. I think I could be biased on that though.”

Roman laughs a little and leans down to kiss you, “I knew it wouldn’t take long for a comment on this suit. You better be careful tonight.”

He throws you a wink and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting ready, leaving you to wait impatiently for him. 

“Uber’s here, Ro. Let’s go,” you yell, grabbing your things. 

He comes out quickly, slipping his shoes on and grabbing his wallet from his dresser. He grabs your hand and heads for the door but stops before opening it. He looks back at you and smiles suddenly. 

“I didn’t tell you how pretty you look yet,” he says, leaning down to kiss you quickly, “you look amazing.”

You blush and squeeze his hand, “thank you, Ro. You look good, too.”

The ride to the athletics hall is short, but you weren’t risking walking across campus during the winter in heels. Roman doesn’t argue the logic and goes along easily, making sure you get into the building safely. 

There’s people everywhere right from the beginning and you stick close to Roman until he finds his teammates. You can relax around them, which is nice, and Roman knows that too. He mentions he needs to go talk to someone quickly, leaving you with the boys. 

It was so loud in the banquet center and dinner was still almost an hour away. There’s people from all different sports teams in the room and you need to take a quick breather. You lean over and put a hand on Max’s arm, asking if he’ll let Roman know you’d stepped away for just a second. He agrees and goes back to his conversation with Brock and Tarek as you slip away. 

You step out and roam down a couple halls, realizing you didn’t really know where you were going. You stumble upon old team pictures and somehow find the hockey team. 

You’re looking at the framed roster photo from the year before with all the boys lined up in their uniforms. You can’t help but smile when you find your boy, eventually looking at the rest of them. You hear footsteps behind you and glance back, seeing Roman walking up slowly towards you. 

“There you are,” he smirks, pressing against your back. He leans in to leave a kiss on your shoulder as his arms wind around your waist. You look back at the roster and go to say something when his hand slides up around your neck, “should we try something new tonight? I’ve seen the way you keep looking at me and it’s not making this night any shorter.” 

You bite your lip, trying to figure out if he’s being serious or not. Of course you want to try it. You’d wanted to try it ever since you saw the video of him grabbing Mike at their team dinner. You had been too shy to ask though and so you let the thought fade. Until now. 

Now when you’re in a hallway where any athlete could stumble upon the way Roman is holding you  and has you so completely flustered that you’re grabbing his hand that’s still tight around your waist to try and keep yourself from getting too worked up. 

“Please,” you whisper, not able to muster out any other reply. 

Roman’s thumb presses down hard enough to feel your pulse that’s hammering beneath the skin and you can’t help but gasp when he does it. You push back against him and he lets out a low grunt. 

“So that’s a yes then? I didn’t know you wanted it so bad, baby. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, kissing your cheek softly. It’s a sharp contrast to the feeling of his rough fingers on your neck. 

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and can only imagine what they look like, what this whole scenario must look like. You didn’t expect to have such a quick reaction to his hand around your throat, but you did and you’re trying to get your mouth to say even one coherent thought. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to,” you manage to say, turning to look at Roman. His cheeks are rosy and he’s staring hard, evaluating your expression as his fingers tighten gently before loosening up. 

“You trust me, right?”

You nod immediately, because of course you did. Roman lets go and turns you towards him, his hands resting on your hips now. 

“If you’re good the rest of the night we’ll go back and try it. I have the room to myself tonight, guaranteed,” he says, a cocky smile taking over his features. 

Your knees practically give out from the way he’s looking at you. You find yourself pulling him down for a kiss, grabbing the lapels of his suit coat. He presses you back into the wall, slipping one leg between yours. He lets you catch a little friction before pulling away and earning a quiet whine from you. 

“I said you have to be good, baby,” he says, his voice already teasing. 

You look up at him with a pout because if his hand on your neck hadn’t been bad enough that small amount of friction had sent you over the edge of wanting to skip the banquet. 

“I’ll be good. I promise,” you says, nodding at him. 

He kisses your forehead before taking your hand and heading back to the event. There’s just as many people as when you left, if not more, but the noises seem more fuzzy now as you focus on Roman. He pulls your chair out for you at the table before sitting down next to you. 

You smile over at Dom sitting on your left as he says hello to the both of you. You’re about to say it back when you feel Roman’s hand on the back of your neck. You shiver immediately and Dom laughs at it. Of course he noticed, but you don’t think he fully understands. 

Roman’s hand squeezes a little, but he innocently asks, “are you cold? Do you want my coat?”

You nod, trying to cover up the real reason you’d had such a reaction to Roman’s seemingly innocent touch. He slips his arms out of his suit coat and puts it over your shoulders, successfully making you even warmer than you were. His hand falls back onto your neck as he faces you and starts a conversation with Dom. You sit between the two, looking straight ahead and trying to keep your cool. 

He glances at you every few seconds, his hand squeezing gently when he does. Every time he does it you press your legs together and try to keep your expression even. Dom either doesn’t realize or doesn’t say anything, luckily, but you’re sure someone must notice. 

“Ro, how much longer?” You ask quietly after what feels like forever. 

He frowns and checks the time on his phone, “we still have almost two hours technically.”

Your jaw drops, but you shouldn’t be surprised. You knew there were awards to go through and speeches to listen to. Roman raises his eyebrows and gives you a look that you know all too well. ‘You have to be good’ rings in your mind, his words tumbling over and over in your head. You nod, giving him a little smile then. 

He’s slightly confused by the quick change in your demeanor, but he lets it roll off him and kisses your cheek. You cross your leg over the other, scooting your chair as close to Roman’s as you can and reaching for his hand that’s on your neck. 

You set it on your thigh and Roman quickly grabs on, his thumb rubbing back and forth without even thinking. You wouldn’t survive with his hand on your neck so you had to distract him with something he was used to. He always ended up with his hand on your thigh when he drove so you figured autopilot would save you during the banquet. 

The event starts to kick off and coaches, administrators, and players all get called to the stage. It’s fine for a bit and you think your tactic was successful, but then Roman leans over suddenly during some football player’s speech. 

“So do you want me from behind or do you want to look at me when I wrap my hand around that pretty little neck tonight?” He asks quietly, his lips pressed against your ear. 

Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen a little. You glance over at your boyfriend who looks far too proud of the reaction he just drew from you. You clear your throat, subtly shaking your head at him. 

“Stop,” you whisper, but you can see the spark in his eye now. It’s a game to him and you know you’ll lose. 

He lets you sit for a few more minutes, another coach stepping up to the stage. You try and pay attention but Roman slowly slides his hand up a little higher on your thigh, rotating his grip more to the inside of your thigh. You bite your lip but won’t look at him. 

“Hey,” he leans over once again, “what about in the bathroom? Then you can watch it happen in the mirror.”

“Jesus Christ, are you serious right now?” You whisper harshly, your head whipping over to look at him. 

He shrugs, turning his attention back to the stage but his hand tightens on your thigh. You grab his forearm, squeezing your eyes shut. He shouldn’t have this much of an influence when he’s just sitting next to you, but he does, and he knows it. You tug his suit coat a little tighter around your shoulders, trying to hide in it as much as possible. 

The comments continue every once in a while from him for the entirety of the event. You’re all but squirming by the time things wrap up and Roman is just as ready to leave. You hand his coat back and he slips it on, standing still while you fix his collar quickly. You’re ready to grab his hand and rush out when Max steps over. 

“Think we’re gonna go grab a quick drink at KK before we call it a night. You two in?” Max asks, smiling at you both. 

He has no clue that Roman’s been ramping things up all night and teasing you endlessly. You’re about to say no, and you can feel Roman’s hand land on your hip and tug you into his side. You get an idea suddenly and look at Max with a smile. 

“We’d love to.”

“What?” Roman says quickly, looking down at you like had spoke a different language.

“Why not?” You ask, turning your attention to him, “we didn’t have plans tonight, right?”

You can see his jaw tighten as he gives you a fake smile. You hear him agree, but your mind is already wandering. He’d be even more worked up by the time you got home now and you were glad Max had extended the invite. 

Roman reluctantly calls an Uber to get to the bar, piling in with you, Max, and Brock. The ride over is short but Roman’s eyes are locked on you, making you feel hot all over. You knew you were pushing your luck for that night but you were having too much fun to stop now. You didn’t want to lose the game just yet. 

The bar has plenty of people in it when you all get there, most of them coming over from the banquet, and you easily find the other boys. You see Ryder and an idea forms in your head quickly. You knew he’d play along if you asked. 

You step away from Roman, saying hi to everyone, but pulling Ryder down for a hug when you get to him. He laughs a little and you take the chance to ask him for a favor. 

“Will you help me make Roman a little fired up tonight? I just need to ruffle his feathers a bit before we leave,” you ask, pulling back and seeing Ryder glance over your shoulder. 

He smiles and nods, “he already doesn’t seem happy about this so it should be easy. I’m in.”

You laugh and let you hand rest on Ryder’s chest, looking up at him. He leaves his arm low around your waist as you turn to talk to Mike standing next to him. Ryder’s arm slides and he leaves a hand on the small of your back, glancing over at Roman. 

“He’s gonna kill me. You know that, right?” Ryder asks, leaning closer so you can hear him better. 

Mike overhears and looks at his teammate that’s glaring in your direction, “Ahcan is not a dude I ever want to piss off. Just saying.”

You look from Ryder over to your boyfriend and see the way his jaw is set. He’s not having fun with this game and you waver. 

“Okay, call it off. I don’t want to do this to him anymore,” you shake your head, giving Mike a hug before you walk away to make the whole thing look more innocent. 

You duck your head as you walk back towards Roman, sure that he was going to have an attitude about the stunt you’d just tried to pull. He holds out a beer for you instead, a smirk on his lips that makes you wonder what was going on in his head.

“Baby,” he mumbles, pulling you close once you take the bottle from him, “I knew you were trying to play games, but let’s be honest here. None of those little boys over there could handle you like I do. None of them could make you beg like I do. And they certainly won’t choke you like I know you want me to.”

You lean hard into him, your heart beating wildly against your chest. You swear he always knows exactly what you’re thinking and you’d be lying if you pretended he wasn’t right on the money yet again. 

“I’m sorry, Ro. I know you know me best,” you pout, looking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can manage. 

He swears a little under his breath before he leans down to kiss you hard, his fingers digging into your hip and making you press against him even more if it were even possible. His teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls back and you can’t hold in the moan that leaves your mouth. 

Max happens to be right next to both of you when it happens and his jaw drops at the noise. You immediately bury your face in Roman’s chest but you can hear him as he speaks up. 

“Guess I’m staying with Mersch tonight, holy shit.”

Roman chuckles and kisses your head, thanking Max for his quick decision. You look up at Roman finally and realize he’s talking with the boys, no one worrying about the obscenity you’d released a moment before. 

You let out a sigh and spin around, leaning back against Roman and working to finish your beer. You knew it was a one and done kind of night, so the sooner you finished yours, the sooner you could leave. 

The cold liquid goes down easily and you find yourself setting it on a nearby table before grabbing both of Roman’s lapels, waiting for him to look down at you. Once he finally does you tug him lower and lean towards his ear. 

“Please take me home now. I really need you,” you say, feeling the effects of the quick beer you’d all but slammed and the desire he’d built up all night. 

Roman stands up straight and nods, waving at the boys over your shoulder. He’s quick to request the Uber and even quicker in getting you out to the curb. The ride back to his apartment is a blur and your excitement is through the roof, causing you to practically buzz in anticipation. You can’t help but fidget occasionally, stealing glances at Roman and giggling when he’d return eye contact. 

You both stumble into the apartment, both in a hurry to get things started. You trail towards his room, clothes being left behind you down the hall as your patience finally disappears. Roman’s quick to get you onto the bed, hardly having to do any prep work. 

He slides a condom on quickly and presses in almost too fast, making you gasp and yell his name for the first time that night. Your fingers dig into his sides as he starts to thrust in, dragging back out slowly each time. The pace is killing you and you beg him to hurry. 

“Roman, please go faster. I need more,” you whine, trying to pull him closer to you. 

He listens for the moment, his hips snapping at a faster pace, driving you up the wall. You can feel the build and you’re sure you won’t last long, mumbling to Roman that you were getting close already. 

He slows down suddenly and leans up, one hand fully supporting his weight as the other slowly wraps around your neck. 

“Look at me,” he says seriously, “if you get overwhelmed I need you to tap my arm three times and I’ll let go.”

You swallow hard and he can feel it, the smirk on his lips widening. He starts to tighten his grip as his hips move faster again, maintaining eye contact that’s almost too intense. You don’t notice much at first but he hits a certain point and you can feel the restriction then. 

You grab his wrist, but not to pull him off. You give him a little smile to let him know it was good and he tightens his hand just slightly more. You can feel how close you are then and he must know because his thrusts falter for a second. 

Before you know it you’re tumbling over the edge, trying to say his name but barely any noise comes out. As you tighten around him he swears and lets your throat loose, finishing hard and leaning his forehead down on your collarbone. 

You both catch your breath, your fingers carding through his damp hair as he leaves a couple soft kisses on your chest. You laugh a little and Roman props himself on his elbows, smiling down at you. 

“What are you laughing about, pretty?” 

You lean in and kiss him quickly, “I can’t believe I waited to tell you to try that. It was so good.”

He agrees, finally moving to stand up and detangle himself from you. He suggests a shower that you agree to easily, asking him to carry you into the bathroom. You weren’t trusting your legs just yet. He’s gentle throughout, helping you wash your hair and even rubbing your shoulders a bit. 

It’s such a contrast to the feeling of his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck and you revel in it. When you’re finished he gets his biggest towel and wraps you up in it, kissing your forehead as he slings a towel low around his own waist. 

You wander out to his bedroom, picking up the button down he’d worn earlier and replacing your towel with that, inhaling the smell of his cologne you loved so much. You return to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and find Roman brushing his teeth. 

You groan, “seriously, gray sweatpants after all that? are you trying to kill me?”

He rinses his toothbrush and wipes his mouth off before stepping over to you and kissing your cheek, “I figured you might like them.”

You shoo him from the bathroom and get your own business done. You find him half asleep in bed by the time you’re finished and slide under the covers carefully. He’s quick to pull you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he loved to do at night. 

“Was that good tonight?” He asks, his words slurring a little from how tired he is. 

You kiss his head, playing with his hair gently, “sure was. I think we may have to try it again.”

“Deal. Just don’t try and flirt with the freshmen before. If you ask, you can have whatever you want.”

You blush and give a quiet ‘okay’, feeling called out. He knew you too well for you to try and play games like that. Roman’s breathing starts to level out and you find yourself wondering what else he might want to try next. You definitely had a couple questions ready for him the next morning.

[charrfie]

Alright now that its officially Forzen Friday let's try this post again since it didn't show up in the tags last time-

I'M FINALLY MAKING A FORZEN HC DUMP (kinda AU-ish territory but not really idk exactly) AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME

There are also a few other hcs sprinkled in here related to other characters (like Darnold and Sunkist for example) but Forzen is the main focus!! Despite him being a minor character I latched onto him and fleshed him out sm yall have no idea

Everything under the cut bc this shit is gonna be LONG (and there's also some more doodles that take up a bit of space!)

Also uhh if people like this I might take one for another hlvrai character later bc I have a lot to say about everyone!!

Forzen moved from France to the US with his parents when he was around 12 or 13 (yes, I'm aware that Scorpy and Holly are French Canadian and not France French but that doesn't mean Forzen can't be, I'm just being sure to say this now before someone says something to me about it)

He wanted to go to college and eventually become a game dev, but he didn't have the funds or the support for it (his family thought anything to do with games would amount to a career that would go nowhere).

Because of this, he instead was recruited in the US military. He originally had no intent to join, but after constantly being harrassed recommended to join and being entertained with the concept of being able to afford and pay for college, he caved (hence him telling the science team that his only goal is "to graduate").

He doesn't like his job very much if that wasn't clear.

And neither do most others that have the same job like him.

He was put on a "team" of his own, Team Nice, which was likely arranged as a guaranteed way to get Forzen in the way of danger, and with no one else fighting beside him, he would be easily dealt with- no one would have to worry about him bothering them again. However, he somehow manages to survive all of this, of course. Somehow. He likely knows the real reason he was assigned his own team (if you can even call it that), but refuses to fully acknowledge it for his own sanity, and instead pretends that he's some big, important person on a team that ranks so highly, he's the only one qualified to be in it. (I apologize ahead of time for giving one of the most shitposty and throwaway characters in hlvrai this much depth and angst, there was just potential there leave me alone)

Fast forward to the actual events of hlvrai though. This hc is a little outlandish but I really like the concept!!! So, at one point, Forzen is killed, presumably by some kind of creature that was out and about due to the RenCas. The science team + Benrey stumble across him (act 2 part 2 at around 13 min in for anyone curious), and Benrey decides to use the healing beam Sweet Voice on him. While Benrey and Forzen may not be on good terms anymore, Benrey still very begrudgingly cares about him and didn't want to see him get injured or die. Forzen wakes up a minute or so after the science team exits the room, assuming that he just passed out, nothing more, and goes along with things as normal.

He meets Darnold a while after his first (concious) run in with the science team. Darnold has recently dealt with the science team and helped them out, but is pretty bummed that he couldn't travel with them, as everything was far too scary and dangerous for him. Forzen, wanting to escape Black Mesa and the military altogether, ends up making a deal with him that he'll handle all the dangerous stuff if Darnold can show him a way out.

Now, meeting Darnold is a very new experience for him, since Darnold actually enjoys his company, and actually wants to befriend him! At first, Forzen openly tries to act as if Darnold is a huge deal to put up with- he goes along with with the whole "if you're escaping outta this hellhole with me, you better keep up" kinda deal (despite the fact that he kinda NEEDS Darnold to escape and show him the way out). His walls are still very much so raised, and he doesn't let his guard down as he's not used to others caring about him and his safety. But as time passes, he begins to realize that maybe Darnold DOES want to be his friend, and the tough guy act becomes less apparent.

To preface this next one- Sunkist sensed that something was up (he has a next-level sense of danger when it comes to Tommy's safety) and got to BM as fast as he could, searching every hallway for his boy. This is when Forzen finds him!! He figures that taking Sunkist as a hostage would be enough to get extra info out of the team that's been practically plaguing him lately.

Darnold doesn't know about Forzen's plans to take Sunkist hostage, so is completely fine with traveling alongside him. At one point though, Forzen and Darnold get separated (Forzen occupies him, makes sure hes safe and then runs off to deal with Sunkist). Darnold immediately uses his surroundings to model a quick little teleporter device to get Forzen back, because, you know, the man's a genius. Idc if its logical or not just go with it shhh I've gotta fill in the plotholes with something. That's why Forzen disappears all of a sudden after he's cornered by the science team. He just pops back in front of Darnold suddenly, all confused and loopy from the whole teleportation thing.

As things begin to wind down, Darnold and Forzen make it out of BM and start making a break for it, no idea how they'll get away from BM and to safety somewhere- they didnt really think things through.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for Forzen really), however, G-man picks both of them up. He means to drop Darnold off at Tommy's party, as he observed that Darnold helped his son to safety and is grateful for it. Forzen, though, he intends to "deal with" for messing things up so badly with Tommy, Sunkist, and all of Tommy's friends. This is where Darnold finds out about everything Forzen did and frankly gets really pissed with him since he thought he only had good intentions??? Luckily though, Darnold convinces G-man to give him a second chance, let him go to Tommy's party and apologize, and try things again. G-man, for some reasons agrees- probably bc hes in a good mood, as it IS his son's birthday.

The party is pretty uncomfortable to say the least. Tommy's extremely hesitant to talk to Forzen, but he does, and they end up on neutral terms by the end of it. Uneasy, but neutral. Tommy and Darnold hit it off though, and Tommy opens the invitation to Darnold that he can visit his place anytime now that everything at BM is over with.

As everyone's getting ready to leave, Forzen mentions to Darnold that he doesn't have a place to stay, seeing as the entire military was kinda. Yknow. Wiped out. Obviously wouldn't wanna go back to check anyways. And he has no interest in going home to his parents. So Darnold agrees to let him stay with him since they've become good pals over the course of everything.

Over time, Darnold visits Tommy more and more often. He starts bringing Forzen along, which Tommy is iffy of at first, but their dynamic starts to change and become more comfortable once Tommy sees that Forzen isnt interested in being enemies anymore.

Sunkist and Forzen still don't get along for a very long time. Or, well- it's moreso that Sunkist is very wary about Forzen, despite him not doing anything to harm either Sunkist or Tommy.

Oh yeah and almost forgot to mention one of my favorite hcs (that I PROMISE you started out as a joke but then I got attached) is Sunkist can talk!! So his first spoken interaction with Forzen after Forzen comes over to visit for the first time is literally just him being all threatening and laying down the ground rules bc he doesn't want Forzen to hurt Tommy at all in any way. And of course Forzen about has a heart attack bc "HUH??????? THERE'S A DOG THAT IS SPEAKING HUMAN WORDS TO ME"

UHH I HAVE MORE (I've written out so much shit about dynamics and what I'd think would happen even after all of this) BUT I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG like it already is SO I SUPPOSE I'LL LEAVE IT AT THAT FOR NOW!!!! I hope this isn't too ooc either, I just have Emotions about this series and write too much so why not share it yknow

[asgardianthot]

New Firsts (Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: There’s many things Bucky hasn’t done since the last century, and many others he hasn’t done in the new one.

Words: 3988

Warnings: smut (PowerBottom!Sam)

The vegan place was only half-crowded, allowing the heroes to enjoy a peaceful meal with only one request for a picture. Sam and Bucky had been on a long spree of trying things Bucky hadn’t had the opportunity of doing since he woke up from the Winter Soldier, and it was going too well for Sam’s taste.

You’re only trying things you know you’ll like, he insisted before Bucky finally agreed to blindly follow Sam to a place he didn’t necessarily want to visit.

Only through that method did Sam accomplished his need of getting Bucky to try vegan meat, because Sam Wilson was a health freak, as Bucky put it, and he was a sucker for vegan places altogether. So he dragged the supersoldier downtown, no matter if Bucky didn’t get the point of eating meat that's not meat if you can eat meat. He even teased Sam for being a fake vegetarian, but when the order of a falafel mix patty with a side of fries landed in front of him, he stopped complaining. It did look like a fine burger, which was a point in Sam’s favor regarding his enthusiasm for spreading the word: plant-based food is just as good, Bucky, and it’s healthier.

A few silent bites from both of them, and Bucky had already decided he liked the blessed fake hamburger, but he was more focused on the spectacle that was contemplating Sam eat.

He was sloppy, and concentrated, and when he got ketchup all over his chin, Bucky couldn’t help but stare with cherishing eyes.

"Told you I loved these, stop judging." Sam said, his wording muffled by the food in his mouth.

A smile claimed Bucky’s features, "I'm not judging."

Sam took a bite, still pretending to ignore Bucky’s intense sight, "Ah-huh?" he swallowed in order to speak properly. "Then what is it?"

Sam’s reaction only made Bucky feel more aggressive butterflies in his stomach, because Sam had such a diverse spectrum of charm. He was charming in the morning, sleepy and forcing himself to be active because nobody dare say I’m not a morning person. He was charming in his fight gear, the goggles and everything, he was extra charming in a suit and tie, and he was charming when he wasn’t allowed to enjoy his meal in peace, all cranky and stuffing his face. The fact that Bucky was utterly and dangerously in love with him had never been so loud.

He raised his eyebrows like he couldn’t believe himself, "Fuck, I really love you."

The words had Sam choking on his burger. Bucky laughed to himself while Sam coughed, going back to his lunch with exceptional carefreeness. Meanwhile, Sam cleaned his mouth with a napkin and sat back on his chair as he finished chewing.

"You mean that?" he finally looked up at the man.

"Yeah, of course." Bucky replied like it was no big deal.

One of the many things roaming Sam’s cloudy mind was that this was the least romantic setup possible, and so of course Bucky would just spill the words right there. His internal reactions varied from ‘fuck this guy’ to ‘fuck, I love him too’. And although his insides churned with giddiness, he managed to focus back on eating with a huge grin on his face.

"So, better than real meat?" he returned to the original teasing.

Bucky acted as if he’d already forgotten about the former subject and followed along.

He narrowed his eyes in indecision, "I wouldn't go that far."

"Well, it's better for you."

The pair continued arguing over food and heath, and it was a discussion Sam was bound to win, but Bucky refused to give Sam so much credit because in his eyes, he was too perfect already, so he didn’t need another win.

-

"I'm not doing social media." Bucky snapped back at Sam.

As they sat on the couch, legs crossed and facing each other, Sam kept bothering him and asking for his phone with an obnoxious hand gesture.

“Just admit you don’t know how to use it.” He chuckled.

“Sam, I can hack a computer mainframe.” Barnes lowered his head with seriousness, “I think I can manage a phone.”

“You can plug in a pendrive the right way and let it to the hacking for you, that’s not the same thing.” Sam taunted about something that wasn’t entirely false, then asked for the phone until Bucky handed it to him with an exaggerated eye roll, “What do you use this for?”

Barnes shrugged, “I call you. That’s pretty much it.” He confessed before going back to his offended part, “See? I don’t need social media.”

“So you could be using a senior citizen phone.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re old.”

With that being said, Sam broke the joking with a kiss he planted on Bucky’s lips. Bucky laughed into it a little, kind of breaking character, and gave into the way Sam slipped his tongue in. they only realized their bodies were drawing closer and their breaths were getting heavier when Sam’s hand travelled to Bucky’s thigh in a way it hadn’t before. The Falcon stopped himself abruptly.

"I need to ask something."

Bucky sat back, giving him the physical room to be open, "Shoot."

"Have you ever, uh...?"

"I'm not a virgin, Samuel." He interrupted with offense.

Wilson let the low laugh claim him as he faced down, "That's not what I'm asking."

"It sounds like you are." Bucky relied on that offended tone like he was being accused of something that was actually bad.

Sam looked up and pressed his lips together to ease his amused smile, but eventually, he had to force himself to look serious, "I mean with a man. Have you?"

"Oh." Barnes scratched the back of his neck, "I've- I uh, I've had my fair share of... experiences." He stared into Sam’s eyes, waiting for a response.

Sam frowned, "What does that mean?"

Bucky couldn’t deny anymore the fact that he was struggling with the subject. He didn’t want to seem inexperienced, but the truth is, he was. And if Sam needed him to be experienced then he would disappoint, and he wanted nothing more than treating Sam like he deserved to be treated, when the timing was right.

"That I've never... you know.” He looked away, “Not 'cause I don't wanna, I've never really thought about it? I dunno if I'd be into it. But I'm willing to try-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there.” Sam cut his rambling short, “I don't wanna fuck you like you think I want you to… I was sort of hoping you'd top me."

"Oh. Okay." The response settling him a lot more, Bucky shrugged nonetheless, "Well, I haven't done that either. I wouldn't... I mean, I don't know-"

"I can show you. So long as you really want to do it. We don't have to."

Bucky thought that that was probably how it’s supposed to feel. When you’re with someone you really love and they really love you back, it feels comfortable and it feels safe. With Sam, he was willing to try anything.

He licked his lips with concealed nervousness before replying truthfully, "I'd like that. Soon."

-

The next time the twist in their bellies caught them, they were cuddling to a Star Wars marathon. They’d run out of snacks hours ago, and were now just lying in each other’s embrace, in their pajamas. Although Bucky was really enjoying the saga, the sci-fi nerd that he was, they were both starting to believe a whole marathon hadn’t been the best idea.

"How many more of these?" Bucky asked, mildly complaining.

"Like...” Sam counted in his head, “Four."

"How do they keep making so many Star Wars? You'd think they'd run out of plots eventually."

"There're full decades between each trilogy." Sam defended the franchise.

"I wouldn't come up with these new storylines if you gave me half a century.” Bucky reckoned, and it was a matter of seconds before he realized something that would add some terribly dark humor to the sentence, “And I had half a century on ice to come up with 'em."

Unfortunately, the bad joke didn’t receive much praise. In fact, Sam remained silent, trying to think of a good response as he tensed up a little.

"Sorry.” Bucky looked down, a small grin of regret appearing, “No joking about it, I know."

"No, it's fine.” Sam intended to prevent Bucky from feeling bad about it; he had every right to process his trauma in any way that he wished, so in an attempt to ease some of that sour feeling he knew Bucky had in his stomach, he kissed the man’s knuckles with care, “It's your bruise to pick at. So long as it's funny to you."

Barnes felt safe enough to be honest with Sam at all costs. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel wrong from time to time.

That’s how he felt, an awkward smile drawn on his lips as he shook his head lightly, "It wasn't.” He let out a nervous chuckle, “Don’t know why I said that."

Sam gave him some mental space by refraining from any further comment. He proceeded to concentrate on the movie in order to drop the subject, but after a few seconds of bothering silence, he was pretty sure the sour feeling in Bucky’s gut wasn’t dissipating. When he turned to face him, he saw clear discomfort, which is why he turned off the TV. Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the now black screen.

"Hey." Wilson practically purred as he placed a finger under Bucky’s chin.

It was almost instant, Bucky’s distressed look turning into a much calmer one when his eyes met Sam’s.

"You breathe through it, 'member?"

Barnes nodded and took a breath, before grabbing a gentle hold of Sam’s face and kissing him on the cheek; a deep and grateful kiss.

"You're not feeling okay?" Wilson asked.

“No, I am. I'm good.” Barnes said truthfully, “Thank you."

They both returned to a cuddling position, Bucky holding Sam tight to his chest and running a thumb up and down Sam’s temple. The latter didn’t want to shut his eyes, no matter how much he was enjoying that simple yet perfect moment. He wanted to take everything in for a second. If he could stay like that for days without the need of food or drink, he would. Feeling far too content and cherished, Wilson wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist in a rush of adoration, then buried his face in Bucky’s chest to plant his lips against his clothed torso.

"I love you."

Shivers ran down Bucky’s spine, before a joyful smile escaped him as he shut his eyes to enjoy the way Sam dropped childish little kisses on his chest and pec. It wasn’t long until something took over his body, something powerful that had him accommodating into a position where he could kiss Sam.

He slipped his tongue in and let it twirl against Sam’s, seizing the opportunity to drag up Sam’s body with an embrace that helped him pin the man down to the bed. Sam hummed in content, receiving Bucky’s coddling and the way he seemed to have lost his thoughts in the kiss. Suddenly, Sam felt the expected lump in Bucky’s pants grow hard, yet he thought it was best not to mention it, in order to keep the whole situation pressure-free. That was until Bucky decided to drag up his legs and straddle Sam’s waist rather enthusiastically, for the way he started moaning into the kiss after the smallest friction informed Sam of his lover’s intentions.

Sam withdrew his face so he could break the kiss, earning a much focused and very lustful look from Bucky.

"You, uh...?" Sam mumbled the half-assed question.

As a response, Bucky kissed his neck and hummed in absolute approval. He knew he wasn’t coming off too dignified, but too desperate instead, but he didn’t mind. As long as he had Sam’s skin against his. His hands roamed Sam’s neck and shoulders and jaw and face, exploring every bit of exposed skin that could provide Sam with some amount of pleasure. When Bucky’s hips sunk down on Sam’s, the latter let out a censured moan.

It suddenly came to Bucky that he hadn’t verbally confirmed Sam’s willingness, and although he was pretty damn sure Sam wanted to do this more than he allowed himself to display –so he wouldn’t make Bucky feel bad if he decided to change his mind-, he thought to himself that he still had to ask. When he sat back on his calves and placed a tentative finger above the string of Sam’s sweatpants, he gave him the prettiest look Sam had ever seen.

“Do you... want to?” Bucky found himself pretty ignorant when it came to phrasing, which kicked some insecurity back into his pounding head.

Sam offered him a sweet smile, “Yes, of course. I’m just making sure you’re not getting carried away, ‘s all. I want you to be comfortable.”

Bucky planted another kiss onto Sam’s lips before going back into frantic mode.

“I am.” He panted into his mouth, reaching down to undo the knot holding Sam’s pants up.

He only sat back again when he had total freedom to lower the hems and free the painful erection that had grown inside Sam’s underwear. He could tell Sam was holding back, by the look of the trapped member, and when he lowered the boxers as well, nothing could stop Bucky from grabbing a desperate hold of Sam’s groin.

Sam sat straighter, propping himself up on his elbows and gestured for Bucky to come closer. As he kissed the latter tenderly, the man who hadn’t had sex in a while slid his hand up and down Sam’s shaft, using his pre-cum as some sort of lube. He’d definitely had a fair share of experiences, Wilson thought.

With the slow pace Bucky followed to stroke him, Sam found his breath picking up his own pace. He laid back and let the pleasure seep through him, but a few seconds later, he was caught up by the movement of Bucky shifting own lower on the bed. he lifted Sam’s shirt to gain access to his stomach, which he began kissing.

"Oh.” Sam was vocal about his surprise when realizing how fast Bucky was going, “Okay."

Barnes’ kisses drifted from Sam’s belly to his hipbones in the blink of an eye, and that’s when Sam noticed the lack of spontaneity and natural progression in his lover’s acts.

"Okay.” He made him stop, “Dude."

Bucky looked up, wondering.

"You trying to prove something?" Sam asked with no inhibitions whatsoever.

Bucky’s expression made it seem like he was shocked that Sam would even ask, "Yeah, that I'm not a virgin." He explained, as if it was obvious.

Wilson let out a laugh, not intending to be mean, but genuinely amused by the fact Bucky would think about that.

"I believe you. You can stop the demonstration."

The positive affirmation soothed Bucky’s concerns about not being smooth enough, and so he nodded with a grin right before launching back onto Sam’s lips.

"I, uh, I wanna do it." He confessed in a low tone.

Sam's tummy did a flip, "Alright then." He did his best to hide his excitement.

"I mean it.”

“I know.” Sam grabbed Bucky’s chin with softness and forced him to look directly into his eyes, "Double check?"

Barnes was unable to hide the big eye roll that took over him. Sam had to know by now how desperate he was to get laid. It had been almost a century –not really, but in sexual abstinence time, it felt like it had been the full seventy years- since he’d had sex and he violently needed it. but not with anyone, of course, with the man he loved. With Sam, who knew exactly how to make him feel safe, who knew when to mess with him and when to simply exist by his side, who Bucky adored like he never had before. He had never felt more at home than with him, so yes, having him there, his cock out and still wondering if Bucky wanted to go to town sounded ridiculous.

"Yeah, fucking triple check.” He let out as he held Sam’s face with both hands, “I want you."

That’s all Sam needed, really. Bucky continued to take the initiative because, well, sexual abstinence, and he helped Sam out of his pants before removing his own shirt swiftly, while Sam mimicked him. Their mouths collided angrily as Sam positioned himself to straddle Bucky, and the latter gripped his hips and pushed his weigh down on his own agonizing erection.

"Oh, god." He shut his eyes without processing the words coming out of him.

Sam let himself be manhandled and enjoyed it. He bit his lip as he propped himself up, both palms down on each side of Bucky's resting head. It was when he reached for the lube in the nightstand that Bucky’s confidence began straying away, realizing he didn’t really know what to do next. Luckily, he felt a heavy weight be lifted off his chest when he saw Sam taking the initiative now. The more experienced man stood up and removed his boxers, and Bucky wanted to admire his lover’s body as a whole, yet he was too worried about what he was supposed to be doing to gawk at it; instead, he took off his own underwear at the speed of light and sat on the bed while Sam got the bottle of lube open.

As Sam went back to his former position, Bucky stared up at him with absolute uncertainty, "What do I...?" he swallowed hard before he could even finish the sentence.

"I'll show you." Sam hushed him.

He proceeded with squirting lube on his palm as he distracted Bucky with a deep, long kiss, and although it blurred Bucky’s vision, he understood that Sam was prepping himself when a lubed finger guided his metal hand to Sam’s behind. Without any words, Sam showed Bucky how to push in, and when Barnes separated his bionic fingers and Sam’s hole gave in, the moan that came out of Sam's lips made Bucky think he wasn’t so lost after all. He was doing it right. So he worked his lover open, causing him to start panting and rest his mouth against Bucky's cheekbone, toning sweet little noises and hitting the inexperienced man with his hot breath.

"Fuck, Sammy, you feel so good." Bucky admitted, pleasantly surprised.

After a minute or two, Sam sit up and got the same hand lubed up again, this time to coat Bucky's dick. The feeling made him shiver, but he managed to sit straight for Sam to tease his own entrance with Bucky’s tip. Bucky felt the butterflies in his tummy, and that was when Sam began slowly sliding down Bucky's length, until he could fully sit down; Bucky held him tight, his arm wrapped entirely around Sam’s torso, and a groan escaped him from the amazing feeling of having him like that. Being inside him but also being able to embrace him completely was almost too much.

"God." He trembled slightly.

"God, Bucky." Sam mimicked him unintentionally, feeling whole.

Wilson rested his head on Bucky's shoulder while Bucky's rested back in the air, his hands keeping a tender grip on Sam's nape. They both submerged into the stillness, enjoying the intense moment until Bucky’s head was less dizzy and his head lulled closer to Sam’s. The latter’s eyes were still closed, and the slightest movement of their hips made him gasp.

"I love you." He moaned out.

He didn’t even give Bucky enough time to say it back, because he immediately started riding his dick up and down.

The lightheaded sensation returned to Bucky as he felt completely taken by Sam. He was claiming him, getting himself off on his cock, pushing him back on the bed with care until his head hit the pillow. And Bucky allowed Sam to take him, he just watched the man prop himself up by planting his palms on Bucky’s chest.

Sam was riding him like it was too easy, and it let him mesmerized and amazed, all the while the lower half of his body felt under both a rough pressure and a devious release.

“Is this- agh.” Sam groaned, unable to focus on his words when he moved his hips so intensly, “This good?”

“Yeah, Sammy, it’s good.” Bucky spoke in barely a breath, taking one of Sam’s hands and kissing it.

Then Sam took that hand of his and drew a finger across Bucky’s temple to his cheek, dragged them along his chin and mouth until Bucky’s lips gaped, which he didn’t know if it was because of Sam's fingertips or his incapacity to say anything, given how immersed in pleasure he was. When Sam withdrew his hand from his features, he knew the answer, because his mouth was still gaped open, and the smallest moan came out with special effort.

Still taking what he needed from Bucky, Sam intertwined his fingers with the bionic ones, pinning Bucky’s to the mattress right above his head. It helped Sam push himself forward and ride him faster, before placing a sloppy and breathy kiss on Bucky’s half open mouth. When the latter emitted something entirely incomprehensible, Sam drew back to let him talk.

"Fuck. Sam, I'm gonna-"

"Wait." The man acting as the ultimate power bottom cut him off.

He slowed down, sat straighter and stroked himself out, made himself cum with a few drawn moans.

That, was the icing in the cake. Bucky felt him tighten around his dick, he felt the hot liquid on his chest and he knew he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He lost it, chest heaving up as he came and his sounds choked back too deep into his throat to even go past his parted mouth. It wasn’t until he heard Sam breathe out in recovery that he let out a noise that sounded more like he was in pain than in pleasure. But it was pleasure, good god it was pleasure.

Both men rode down with heavy breathing, but Barnes was in a state of shock. The instant that Sam found his face, though, Bucky grinned. He had just shown Bucky a goddamn millennial treasure.

Sam kissed his collarbone, still breathless, "All good?"

Bucky ran a hand down his face while he regained his breath.

"Shit, yeah. Great."

"Better than your fair share of experiences?" Sam teased.

It drew a dumb smile on Bucky’s face, his eyes still closed as if he worried that if he opened them, it would all have been a dream. He hugged Sam tight to his chest until they were both lying down.

He shook his head with amusement, "I can't even remember those, suddenly."

Sam would eventually pat himself on the shoulder for teaching Bucky how to top him, for it seemed like it was now Bucky's favorite hobby. He'd hop in the shower and smother Sam with neck kisses until he became jelly under his touch. He'd stroke him, suck him off before dinner. Sometimes he'd start prepping Sam only to realize he just wanted to finger him to oblivion and get his cock to cum untouched. That turned out to be his favorite.

But sometimes he just wanted to do him from behind and smother him. He'd relish Sam's shoulders, his nape, his back, kiss every inch of skin he could reach while doing him slowly and never forgetting to let him know how loved he was. Sam felt like he'd cracked the Da Vinci code by showing Bucky the wonders of having sex with the man you love. And Sam, he worshipped his man right back.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

“you have to let me go”

prompt: “you have to let me go”

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

hi! welcome to my last febuwhump fic!! very happy to have done the whole month :) and like. a Lot more young wallander than i intended lmao. anyway i hope you enjoy this fic!!

“You have to let me go,” Kurt pleads tearfully. “Please. Let me go.”

“No, Kurt.”

“Why not?”

Mona’s hand presses to his forehead. He flinches away, coughing into his elbow. “You’re cold,” he protests.

“And you have a fever. You’re not going anywhere today.”

He crosses his arms and stares her down, though she’s a little blurry, so he can’t be sure if he’s actually staring at her or not. “I have to go to work.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do. What if there’s a new case?”

“Then they can manage without you for the day. And anyway, I already called your boss and told her you weren’t going to be there today.”

“That’s not fair,” Kurt grumbles. He wants to go to work. But he also kind of wants to go to sleep…  

“That’s it,” Mona says, and he feels her hands guide him back so he’s lying down in bed again. “You just go to sleep. I’ll leave some things for you next to the bed, okay?”

Leave things… ”where are you goin’?”

“I still have work today,” is Mona’s reply, and Kurt pictures himself flying up in bed and looking at her disbelievingly. He’s too tired to actually do that, though. 

“You get to go to work?”

“I don’t have a fever. What I do have is an important event this weekend and a deadline to meet. So I’ve got to leave you, yeah? But I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Kay,” Kurt decides. “Bye.”

“Bye, Kurt,” Mona says softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before leaving. He falls asleep shortly thereafter.

--

He wakes up and he is so, so hot. He throws off the blankets, struggles his way out of his sweater, pulls off his socks, and finally gets out of bed altogether. He nearly collapses the second he stands up, so dizzy he can’t see, but he gets his bearings eventually, then promptly loses them in a coughing fit that sends his head spinning again. 

He braces himself against the wall and thinks as best as he can. He needs to go to work. Mona had told him no, but she’s not here now, so there’s no one to stop him. He’s going to go to work. 

He puts on some work clothes, struggling rather horribly with the task of buttons and zippers and laces, and takes a single look at himself in the mirror - not too bad, is his verdict - before heading off to work.

It’s a bit of a blur regarding how exactly he gets there - he just knows that by the time he arrives, his legs are shaking beneath him and his head is spinning and he feels really bad and maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He sinks down onto the ground outside the building and waits for his head to clear. 

“You alright, man?” someone asks, walking past him on the sidewalk. He gives them a jerky nod and decides that’s his signal to get up and get inside. He just about falls over while standing up, but manages to stay on his feet. He can do this.

Kurt gets through the door and for a second just looks around, not able to think about anything like where he should be going. Everything is lights and sounds and movement and it’s dizzying and overwhelming but he needs to be here, he needs to come to work. So he grits his teeth and keeps his eyes trained on the ground and walks until he reaches the Major Crimes office. Once he gets there, he forces himself to look up and around, so nobody will think there’s something wrong. He makes his way to his desk and sinks down heavily into the chair with a sigh and a sniff.

He’s so tired. And dizzy. And generally miserable. Why, exactly, had he thought it was a good idea to come in to work? He can’t remember. He puts his head down and tries to take deep breaths, tries to think of things to distract him from how shitty he feels. 

Someone approaches him, speaking on the phone. It takes a while for Kurt to realize it’s Reza, and even longer for him to make out what it is he’s saying. 

“I’ll come by after work today, yeah. As long as he’s not contagious or -”

Reza cuts himself off. Kurt would raise his head to see what’s startled him, but that requires more strength than he currently possesses. He just kind of groans instead and hopes the greeting will suffice.

“I gotta go. I’ll call you back in a minute.”

A second later, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Kurt startles at the contact, finally raising his head from the desk. He looks around blearily until his eyes land on Reza. 

“What the hell, man?” Reza asks. “Mona said you’re sick.”

Kurt shrugs.

Reza reaches out a hand and presses it to Kurt’s forehead. It’s wonderfully cool against the heat of his own skin, and he leans into it until it’s pulled away. 

“Jesus, Kurt, you’re burning up.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re supposed to be home and resting.”

“Yeah.”

“So why aren’t you?”

Kurt sighs. He can’t really explain it...he’d just wanted to come to work. He hadn’t thought it’d be a big deal.

“Well, you’re not staying here,” Reza says. “Don’t need you spreading your germs all over the place.”

Kurt manages to find the strength to be offended. “I am not spreading my germs all over the place. I’m barely even sick.” He cuts himself off with a cough, which definitely doesn’t do much for his argument. 

“Sure you’re not. And you just happened to wake up this morning and decide mismatched buttons and untied shoes were the way to go, did you?”

Kurt looks down at his shirt, which is indeed crooked, and his shoes, the laces of which are long and dirty. Ah.

“You’re sick, Kurt.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sick.” His sentence is punctuated by a sniff, and Reza gives him a half- fond, half-exasperated smile. 

“Do you want me to drive you home? I don’t have a lot to do at the moment,” Reza offers. Kurt shakes his head vehemently, making himself dizzy again. He doesn’t want to leave, not now that he’s here. Now that he’s not alone in his apartment.

“Don’t wanna go home. Nobody’s there.”

“How’s the break room couch sound, then?”

Kurt coughs a few times, harshly, as Reza’s speaking, and Reza waits for him to finish before repeating his question. “Break room couch?”

Kurt nods. The break room couch is by no means the best place to rest, but at the moment it may as well be a bed in the nicest hotel in the world. He thinks about lying down, closing his eyes, sleeping…

“Okay, hold on, don’t go falling asleep yet,” Reza says, and he taps Kurt on the side of the face. Kurt opens his eyes back up. “We’ve still gotta get you to the couch.”

It’s a bit of an ordeal, since Kurt’s limbs don’t really seem to be in the mood for cooperating, and since his head spins every time he so much as takes a breath, but they make it there in the end, and finally he’s on the couch and lying down, completely uncaring of anything else.

Reza pulls off his shoes for him, says, “suppose you made this easier for me when you got dressed earlier.” Kurt makes an mmph noise, now too tired to bother speaking. He’s so close to falling asleep now, falling asleep and having all his aches and pains fade away. 

He hears Reza leave for a moment, and then return. He places a cold, wet cloth on Kurt’s forehead that immediately starts him shivering, but then covers the rest of him in a blanket, which balances out the cold nicely. Reza himself sits on the edge of the couch, a comforting presence, and says something which Kurt can’t quite focus on enough to understand. 

He understands well enough, though, when he feels Reza get up to leave. He reaches out a blind, heavy hand and mutters, “don’ go, please.”

“You have to let me go,” Reza says. “I got stuff to do.”

“Reza,” Kurt complains, drawing out the name. “Please.”

His best friend relents easily. “Okay, fine. But if someone comes yelling at me because I’m not doing my job, I’m blaming you.”

“Kay,” Kurt agrees. “Sounds good.”

He can actually hear Reza roll his eyes when he sighs and says, “sleep, Kurt.”

He sleeps.

aaaaaa thank you so much for reading this!!! and for reading any of my other fics that you may have read this month! i had an excellent time doing this and i hope you enjoyed my writing!

[im-a-lonelyheart]

Fitzsimmons Family Headcanons in case canon fails me

And before they destroy them. Buckle up.

(I wrote this in less than an hour and english is not my first language, sooo sorry for any mistakes)

Edit: I re-posted it because it wasn’t showing up in the tags. sorry.

Enjoy! (Gift credit: X)

They finally decide to retire to their cottage.

Daisy and May lived with them for a while but at different times. Daisy around the time their first kid was born and May when the youngest was a kid already.

May and Daisy totally live together in the USA.

Fitzsimmons started a biomedical company, they make prostetics and medical supplies. They fund small researchers and become relatively known in the medical field (under aliases of course). They run their company from their home as much as they can.

Deke got bored of his company, so he eventually fused it with FS’s, he has enough money to travel around the world and be whatever he wants. Once was a TV chef, and he got bored and became a travel blogger, then launched a clothing line so it goes…

Tried to convince the team to turn their story into a broadway musical. They all said no. He brings it up everytime they are all together (you never know)

Fitzsimmons have three kids, they were all planned ;) of course

Daisy teases Fitz about how the three of them look like Jemma. “You are adopted”. the son is the only one who kinda looks like him. Fitz doesn’ t mind.

After the kids go their own ways they leave together again.

Have their own quinjet in case of emergencies, they say. Let’s be honest after years of flying with SHIELD, commercial flights lost their charm.

Look retired Fitzsimmons would be that kind of couple who travels the world together (properly this time), they say the quinjet is to visit their friends and Family around the world but would randomly send pictures of them in front of a famous landmark.

Mackenzie Skye Fitzsimmons (Daisy calls her Kye) (Born around 2021) (Quarantine baby) or (Timetravel baby)

They never asked Deke about their daughter’s name in the original timeline, but once they told him, judging by his reaction they knew it was this. (but in the lighthouse timeline her nickname was Kenzie)

Fitz was really adamant on this name, Jemma thought it was cute and a great way to honor their best friends, but years later he told the kid:

“you were named after two of the bravest persons I’ve ever met”.

Jemma just stared into the space as it dawned on her that her husband was really an idiot.

He winked at her and she forgave him. Eventually.

When she was a toddler Fitzsimmons moved back to the city and left their cottage, they wanted their daughter to have the best education and also didn’t want to wake her up early because the closest school was still an hour away.

Around that time Daisy found Bobbi, they met up, and Bobbi introduced her to her baby son Owen. 

“oh my god. I need to call Fitzsimmons” 

“what” 

“shhhh. wait, it’s connecting... Hey guys! Look who is here! Bobbi and her baby Owen Shaw” 

Fitz spits his tea all over his phone. Bobbi doesn’t know what’s going on, and they eventually explain it to her, well, after Daisy stops laughing and Fitz stops coughing.

Bobbi and Hunter had changed names and moved to England. After learning that Fitzsimmons live nearby, they make plans to see each other as much as they can. Look this is my headcanon AU so Fitzsimmons offer them positions in their company, Bobbi in the lab and Hunter in a made up security position that doesn’t fit his nametag. 

Some weekends Fitz and Hunter take the babies to the park together, while Jemma and Bobbi work or hang out together. One day kye and Owen were playing and Owen proudly declared he was going to be an astronaut. Fitz was like “you and your son are the bane of my existence”.

The kids become best friends. Duh 

BUT this is Bobbi and Hunter we are talking about, they’re nomads so they eventually move out around Europe and America, when the kid started high school they agreed to stay in one place.

Anyways,

Amazing kid, took a while for her parents to figure out the whole parenting thing but she was so great, as long as things went her way.

Fitz can’t say no to her. A dog? We’ll manage. Ice cream for breakfast? c’mon you know how convincing she can be. 

She is a really calm kid, well behaved. Responsible older sister, mom friend, but messy af. “look mom, I have a system and I know where everything is”.

Nicest kid you’ll ever meet, but if you mess with her siblings be careful, you never know if you will find trash in your backpack.

She is an MD. Eventually, her parents moved back to the countryside but she stayed in the city with her sister to finish her education.

Makes friends everywhere she goes.

She and Owen started dating in their teens but were on and off several times, they even briefly dated other people because one of them would get scared of things becoming too serious (even more when they learned that Uncle Deke was genetically their son). 

In their late twenties they decided to get married as a compromise to stay together and work things out, after all, some things are inevitable.

They had two kids: Daniel Shaw (Deke, but They wanted him to be his own person so they changed the name), Gabrielle Shaw (Born as Oliver Shaw)

Owen worked for a while for SWORD. Eventually decide to move to Germany to work as researchers.

Margaret Abigail Fitzsimmons (Maggie) (Born 2025)

The odd one. Grew up to be a successful artist. Really independent as a child, could play hours by herself or caually chill around her parents or her brother’s crib.

Despite being the only one in her family who isn’t into science, she loves doing experiments all the time, in the name of aesthetic. One time turned the dog blue. There’s a fire extinguisher in the living room just because of her. Banned from her parents’ lab “Pretty colors can go boom”. Aparently.

After being constantly told she is diferent from the rest of her family, she feels happy when someone tells her she looks like her mom. She scoffs but she doesn’t really mind.

Acts though but is a softie, vegan, activist, animal lover. Loves to tease everyone, prankster, makes fun of her mom but it’s the first person she thinks of when something troubles her. Late night calls are not unheard of.

Can’t commit to a single hobby. Photography, cooking, volunteer work... name something, and she has probably already tried it.

Really close to Deke, sometimes travels with him. They are kindred spirits. Feel like only them understand the need to explore and try new things.

She grew up to resent shield. Look she loves what her parents and their friends did, but hates how it affected them. Forgive and forget? in this economy?? 

Lives in Paris by herself but somehow always manages to get everyone to come to her art exhibits. You won’t be able to stop her once she sets her mind to something. Stubborn as her dad.

Doesn’t want kids, maybe one day if she feels ready she will adopt but she is happy as an aunt.

Matthew Phillip Fitzsimmons (Matthew) (Born 2030)

Ray of sunshine, Momma’s boy. He loves it when his parents take him to their lab. Ever since he could walk he is always following his sisters around, if they are up to something he is the first one to know. They love to tease him, but he has enough blackmail material to get them to shut up. He would never use it tho.

Computer genius. He has his own video game company. Launched his first video game at 16. Fitz is mildly offended he sees the Framework code as “old stuff”.

He is a sweetheart, adores his parents and calls them every single day. He met his wife in college and has been happy ever since. It was fast and passionate, they got married within a year and a few years later they had a baby. 

Truly an example of living fast. 

Melissa Fitzsimmons (his daughter) a sweetheart, may is her godmother. (The babies’ baby’s baby, i cry). The cousins are thick as thieves. 

May loves the kid, “age is making you softer”, Daisy tells her and laughs, May’s glare while holding a baby is too much for her.

Emma Johnson (born 2029) (the honorary fourth kid)

Daisy’s daughter. Jemma cried when she told her the baby’s name. She wanted May and Jemma in the delivering room with her. 

I can see Daisy being a badass single mother but I also see her finding love, I haven’t made up my mind but I think she will be loved either way.

Only child, so loves to hang out with the FS kids.

She and Matthew are best friends since they were little, even having video calls when they couldn’t see each other in person.

Fitz and Daisy had a bet on whether they would get together, but it was called off when it became apparent Emma wasn’t interested in men altogether. She was the first woman in his wedding.

The “Quake” legacy was too much for her so she decided to focus in something different. Currently works as an architect and on her spare time works as a freelance illustrator.

All I can imagine is a scene where the are all together in a field (probably the same one where they buried Coulson and Loop!Fitz) May, Fitzsimmons and Daisy. They try to meet up there at least once a year to chat and reminisce about old times, sometimes with Deke, Mack and Elena (and their twin boys) or just them. 

Their kids are playing while their parents watch, but May’s watching them, with their backs to her they almost look like the kids she met in the bus all those years ago. Coulson would’ve been so proud, this is the future we were fighting for all along, she thinks.

“You did good”.

Daisy turns around with a soft smile on her face and says “yes, we did.”

The end

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

CHERRY: a review that no-one wanted but I had feelings 💕✨

I tried to be really calm in this review and not get too ✨ passionate ✨ Not that it matters, but I have a film degree and hope I managed to bring forth some insight into elements of the film but also I know nothing lol please enjoy my 1k ramble xo 

Rating: 8.5 / 10 

My whole experience to this film prior to it’s release was a rollercoaster. There was the initial excitement of such a challenging and demanding role for Tom, which was always going to be something I was going to be eager for – but I must admit, reading the critics reviews of the film mixed with Tom speaking so highly of it and interviews alike caused me a lot of confliction and my excitement turned to nerves knowing how much the cast and crew alike felt personally connected to this film.

Needless to say, I was completely unprepared for the film that followed.

Cherry is a visual experience. Whilst initially curious to see how the chapters of Cherry’s life would work on screen, wondering if they would they feel either disconnected or disjointed from one another, I was so surprised at how seamlessly they managed to merge into each other. Personally, it was never too much of one thing and not enough of another – each chapter illustrated the trauma constantly added to Cherry’s life and I understood why they were highlighted in the ways that they were.

Whilst I agree not all the stylistic elements were necessarily needed, I didn’t think it damaged the film in any way having them in there. I just don’t think it impacted or heightened it in anyway either. The use of the 4th wall and its constant breakage as a form of narration, I thought, was used brilliantly – it made sense, it added further life and character from Cherry that dispersed him from being this idea of ‘could be anyone’ and made him more of an individualised character which I think is important in a film which is trying to express the idea that Cherry could be anybody, as it still gives you someone to hold onto throughout.

Also, I have to talk about the use of the cinematography within this film. Newton Thomas Sigel does an absolutely incredible job with how this film looks, especially considering there are six different cinematic styles to get right. From the quieter shots that really struck me, such as the church shot – to a lot of the bigger landscaped scenes, I really found myself being mesmerised by the camera work and generalised look of the film in itself, from lighting, filtration, angles, lenses – it was beautifully done, and excelled in its own storytelling.

What I will say, is without Tom and Ciara I don’t think I personally could’ve rated this film the score that it’s been given. I firmly believe they carry a lot of the weight, and of course sell it too.

I have seen many critic responses, some even highlighting that they simply couldn’t see past the ‘Peter Parker’ image – my response to that would be if you’re looking for Spiderman then all you will see is Spiderman. Not because of Tom’s performance, but because that is what you want to see. I think Cherry is miles away from Peter Parker, and whilst even I was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to shake that image, what he manages to do in this film is frankly, for me, indicative of what kind of potential he truly can reach regarding his versatility in further roles. You can see the levels in which Tom pushes this character to his very limits – shedding skin in every chapter to eventually reveal such raw brokenness. There were moments that truly took my breath away, and I can understand why there would be some Oscar buzz surrounding this particular performance and I can only hope that he gets further roles that allow him to play such conflicting, raw and real characters in the future.

Ciara is also an absolute force to be reckoned with in this film. There was one thing pulling her back from truly reaching the peak of her character, which I did see a couple of glimpses of, specifically when her character turns to addiction herself. However, the underdevelopment of Emily and her storyline as a standalone aspect to this film stopped her fullest potential being reached, which is frustrating in a film that is supposed to have a focus on addiction and how life consuming it can be for anyone in any circumstance. There were too many times where Emily became an extension of Cherry instead of her own person, which fell flat for me – especially in a script written by women. But by all means, Ciara’s performance was brilliant and I truly felt the pain for the character when it was given – I just wish I could’ve seen more of her. The chemistry between Cherry and Emily, ergo Tom and Ciara were also 10/10 – a little more push and pull here and there would’ve been preferable (but this is definitely more of a director’s element than on Tom and Ciara themselves, with the material in front of them – I genuinely think that they did a phenomenal job) but altogether, some extraordinary performances, perhaps some of my favourite in cinema.

I could speak so much more on this film (and probably will) and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on it. Also, I did not read the book prior to watching the film – but I would like to say that I’ve heard a lot of people saying they have issues with the adaptation, but please remember that adaptation is always difficult to get right. Unless it is a biopic or biographical film, which I always think should be as accurate as possible. I’m always intrigued to see what resonates with screenwriters and what aspects of the novel they want to take inspiration from the most.

Please remember that filmmaking is art. And art is entirely subjective ❤️

[ofgoodmenarchive]

The first in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian AU.

Priceless Rewards

It was a beautiful day in the south and Dorian was terribly bored.

Alright, so maybe 'beautiful' was a stretch- but there was no rain, which by Ferelden standards counted for beauteous. Still the sky was dreary- even here in the Hinterlands, the so called 'Heart of the South'. Constant damp livened the vegetation- everything was so green- and so in his way! He couldn't walk two steps without having to wrestle nettles or vines from his robes.

  Why did I agree to this again?

They needed someone not overtly suspicious, he supposed- at least, not suspicious in a particular manner. Dorian could be suspected of many things; by his appearance alone he could be accused of blood magic and perhaps some dubious forms of necromancy. Why else adorn himself in human bones, how else to explain the flash of amber that sometimes possessed his eyes?

Altogether, Dorian ascertained he had to be wearing a whole person- and that excluded his staff, shaped from a spine and skull.

Not all the same person, mind you. Still not a welcoming sight to most.

Granted none were innocent in his eyes- all had threatened his survival in one way or other.

Besides- as long as no one suspected him of working with the Venatori, it didn't matter how he was judged. His employers knew that- and Dorian knew he needed gold and influence to maintain the lifestyle craved by his inner demon.

So there he was, traipsing through the south with a sack full of magical equipment, questing to study Rifts for a group of mad cultists.

  I don't know why they're bothering...

  What did exploding an old woman and her Chantry puppets really achieve?

From his viewpoint, it merely added complication- now there was this 'Herald of Andraste' for the fools to contend with.

  Why can't people just appreciate life for what it is?

He considered to himself with a laugh, kicking aside more vines.

Then again- if the world lacked such madmen, who would risk contracting Dorian for anything? An open practitioner of blood magic, long-disgraced from his house? Of course whenever someone sought him out, their motivations were not exactly chivalrous.

While pondering this he approached a Rift and began work. Recognising him as one of their own, the demons barely glanced.

Speaking of which- he was really in need of proper sustenance. Food and wine can fulfil Desire for only so long- especially while sleeping out in the cold wild and not luxurious sheets.

Technically his employers were to blame- anyone with sense was hiding and anyone who might be some fun was miserable. Not that he faulted the local populace for cowering from demons, Templars, mages, holes in reality and Maker knows what else.

  Well. Us, for one. We're here too.

It was gradually creating an issue. Desire's primary source of nourishment came from the desire of others. For Dorian, this meant fuelling himself through a man's desire towards him. When times were well and the populace cheerful, no matter his place he could easily find a willing participant.

However when times were tougher or in this case, when fear of magic and the unknown ran rampant, meeting someone receptive was trying.

  Actually...when you think about it-

  this whole thing is Halward's fault.

A phrase Dorian said to himself often, spitting his father's name like a curse.

Just as often, he would sense the demon admonish what it viewed as weakness.

  Well am I wrong?

  We wouldn't have met if it weren't for him.

Waiting for devices to conclude their measurements, he plopped onto the grass and reminisced.

Dorian had been just a boy, as belligerent a youth as could be. Or that's how his father would excuse it, he was sure.

Perhaps Halward even liked that about his son- sometimes. When he put it to use, when his belligerence somehow went hand-in-hand with achievement.

Not when it caused him to loudly reject their plans, state he'd rather die than live in denial of himself, then run off into the night.

  If he hadn't found me...everything might be different.

Unfortunately Halward ferreted him out somehow. What happened next was a tangle of memory and emotion- what he did recall, was standing in a circle of fire while a voice hissed through his mind.

  Small. Such a small morsel.

  What does the human think I can do with this?

A sensation like needles puncturing his skull. He'd cried out but couldn't move. The creature burrowed into his consciousness, processed and digested in seconds.

  Oh...?

  So much desire.

  Ambition.

  Potential.

His heart drummed, limbs shaken- but still he was incapable of movement. All he saw was flame and all he heard was this ravenous intruder.

  A small meal...but still a meal.

  I could take it all.

  That's what he wants me to do, you know.

Whether through his own discernment or whatever link was strung between them, he understood what the creature meant. Panic increasing, Dorian's thoughts raced, floundering to convey them-

  So he told you 'oh go eat this desire for me', and you're just going to do it?!

  Aren't you a Desire Demon?!

  Don't you want to experience life?!

  Instead you're just going to- going to-

  have a little snack and slink back into the Fade?!

  When we can both maximise our potential- together?!

The voice fell silent, pensive. Dorian stammered to solidify his point.

  Just- just don't change who I am- that's all I ask.

It had fulfilled that promise- for the most part. When Dorian awoke he'd been in his bed, unchanged in every way that mattered to him.

Turning around, a pair of void-black eyes peered back and he'd screamed.

That was the first encounter with his shadow. It was structured vaguely as he was, had his voice, developed as he did. Yet was just a walking silhouette- that only he could see.

Thankfully his demon's wanderings were on an inconsistent basis.

However it didn't take long for Halward- and everyone else, really- to note Dorian changed in every way they hadn't instructed.

Always a morbid child, fixated on necromancy and the dead. His bond with the demon increased this fixation tenfold. Before then, Dorian sometimes preserved deceased animals and toyed with the idea of reviving them with Fade-Wisps. Now it was an unseemly habit- which his family loathed. Cheerful, bumbling creatures of bone and treated flesh roamed the estate, causing minor chaos and disrupting social events.

Eventually his father screamed at him-

  “Dorian Pavus! Clear this undead menagerie or I will take care of them myself!”

  “I WILL NOT!” He'd shrieked back, tossing mice-bones across his bedroom.

Halward did take care of them himself- to the boy's heartbreak and despair. By that point he knew there was discussion of somehow altering him again- he ran and this time, was free.

  Feeling nostalgic?

Desire lured him to the present moment- sitting cross-legged on a nearby rock-pile, seeming amused in it's posture. His shadow- not nearly as intimidating as it had been to him years ago. Dorian smiled, sighing wistfully.

  “Something like that...I think it's more that I'm under-stimulated.”

His companion mirrored this need with a drawn-out exhale.

  “Yes, yes, I know...but when we're done with this, we'll be paid, and then we can head somewhere people aren't so actively terrified for their lives.”

It hummed lowly at this but issued no official complaint. Overall the creature was content in deferring to his judgement- Dorian had never steered them wrong. They were usually well fed, occupied by an exciting project and comfortable- this whole apocalypse business was an unplanned circumstance. Even Dorian hadn't known the Venatori's goals- merely sought to benefit.

The creature's focus appeared to divert- features unobscured enough to gather simple expression.

  “Hrm? Someone there?” He wondered aloud, glancing. Activity further along- a loose group of people trudging through under-brush, chatting casually though he couldn't hear. Dorian lingered at first but soon recognised the Inquisition symbol- a single, glaring eye.

  “Not the people we should try explaining ourselves to, I think.” He decided, chuckling in exasperation. Dorian scooped up his instruments and willed his form to move; vanishing with a flash of embers, he materialised behind some trees and knelt. One advantage to his demonic condition was an ability to veil himself- as long as he didn't do anything too attention-grabbing. Standing around in the open was therefore not viable, so he watched and waited.

Two humans, a dwarf and an elf. A human woman and the elf appeared to lead the pack, both bearing the Inquisition crest. The group ventured for the Rift and Dorian frowned, wondering for their sanity.

A dazzling beam shot outwards, leading his gaze to the elf's hand- connecting him and the Rift. Next there was an explosion and the party launched into combat, too confusing and swift for Dorian to properly assess. By the end all demons and disruptions were extinguished and the elf stood to one side, surveying the area.

Dorian couldn't make out terribly much- obvious details; the radiance emitted by his hand and the weapon used in lieu of a staff, a sword-hilt with light where there would be steel. Dark hair, pale, Dalish- judging by the blue patterns decorating his face. Much taller than elves inclined towards being- he loomed over his party and seemed awkwardly aware of it, stooping whenever one moved to speak with him.

Each person drifted to scout the clearings edge and Dorian sat perfectly still. None wandered his direction and the elf appeared disinterested, loitering where the Rift had been dispelled.

Until he abruptly turned and marched almost straight for Dorian. Stopping just as suddenly, he peered down at scorched earth left by the maleficar's retreat.

  Maker's breath!

  Don't tell me he's going to notice me because of that?!

He was near enough for Dorian to study closer- light scarring on serious features, frosty eyes that pierced everything they saw.

Intense- but attractive. Perhaps more-so because of that intensity.

For a few heartbeats he was certain he'd been spotted- but the elf swivelled away, muttering.

  “Something wrong?” The woman asked, her voice distinctly Nevarran.

  “Burnt ground. I thought it odd.” He answered, falling in pace with his fellows.

  “Why odd? It would be from a demon, no?”

  “I saw none there when we fought.” His speech was a little stilted- possibly more accustomed to his native tongue.

  “From the Rift, then. It hardly matters.”

Their discussion was swallowed by forest and Dorian sprang forth, unleashing his shock.

  “That's the Herald?!” He exclaimed, laughing in charmed bewilderment.

Feeling eyes upon him, Dorian faced his shadow- standing within the tree-cluster, watching it's host ponderously.

Without speech or much communication at all, he knew they thought as one.

Dorian tossed the bag of instruments to the ground and booted it aside, half-snarling, half-laughing.

  “To the void with this dirty work!” Meeting his companion's gaze, he smirked. “I just thought of a reward the Venatori can't possibly hand over to us!”

Vague contours of the creature's mouth parted, displaying pointed teeth in a grin.

  The Herald of Andraste.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel, Chapter 13/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Anti invades Ego Inc. with a host of puppets to continue his reign of destruction. What little warning the egos receive beforehand may not be enough. Warnings: Major character death, blood, gore, body horror, intense grief

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

The first warning the egos get, the one that they know will be the last before Anti strikes, is an urgent message sent to the control room from another figment. No one but a figment could ever find Ego Inc. in the first place, and no one but a particularly intelligent figment could ever break through Ego Inc.’s firewalls to send a message.

Wilford is so angry to find out about the security breach – not the first one in recent memory, of course – that he nearly shoots Google until Google tells him what the message actually is: A transmission from none other than Professor Beauregard, straight from her laboratory. Wilford and the Googles watch the message before calling a meeting to share it with the others.

So Dr. Iplier finds himself sitting in a room filled with an all-too-familiar dread, surrounded by people who don’t trust him nearly as much as they did before. The Host is sitting beside him as has become typical, but the other egos are giving him as wide a berth as possible. Though there aren’t enough chairs at the table to fit every ego, the chair beside Dr. Iplier that Host isn’t in remains empty as the room fills with people. Yandere in particular is sitting as far away as he can, beside Damien of all people. Dr. Iplier still hasn’t spoken to Yandere after everything, and considering the glare Yandere shoots him, it’s probably a good thing that Dr. Iplier’s left him alone. He seems to be well-healed physically, at least, and Dr. Iplier is glad for it. It’s one of precious few things he has to be glad for right now.

This time there is no intro; the meeting alert had all the pertinent information. Once the room is full of egos, Wilford merely nods to Google, and the room’s TV flickers to life and reveals Professor Beauregrad, up close and clearly fiddling with the camera she’s filming herself with.

“It’s on? It’s on!” she says, “Okay.” She clears her throat and settles into a chair she’s placed a few feet away. She looks right into the camera. “I’ll keep this short. Anti is here in LA, and he’s on his way to Ego Inc. I’ve done the calculations, and though Anti is quite unpredictable, I’m nearly 97% certain that he will go after you all once he’s added the most powerful figments in the area to his…arsenal, I suppose one could call it. I’ve had other egos reach out to me about what’s happening, and it appears Anti is gathering an army of puppets. He already has all the Septics, and he definitely has more. He wants the most powerful players to destroy you with, and he’s gotten them.” Her speech is broken by a sudden loud bang, and she jumps before resuming. “Ugh, of course. Anyway, the rest of us are either too weak or too few to stop him. It’s going to have to be you.” Another series of bangs occurs, and Beauregard gets up and walks off-camera briefly, returning with a futuristic gun nearly as big as she is. She sets it on her lap as she sits, keeping one hand on the trigger. “I’ll do my best here, and I might be able to take down a couple people, but definitely not Anti.” She shakes her head. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? The stories I’ve heard…they seem impossible, but they have to be true. Sometimes science is believing what you can’t see.” A purple haze rises in the air, and Beauregard swears to herself, reaching to her left and grabbing something off a desk. She brings a gas mask into view, pulling it over her head and quickly tightening the straps. After a few cautious breaths, she returns her focus to the camera. “I hope you can still hear me. You can see Anti has Natemare, at least.” The lights flicker, and the sound of several different people laughing discordantly fills the air. “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful. At the very least, I doubt you’ll see me when Anti shows up. Other than my gadgets, I don’t have much he’d want.” Static stripes over the screen, and Beauregard sighs, eyes steely. “Of course, this message won’t even go through unless Anti wants it to. But I think he’ll let it, knowing him. He does love an audience. Just…stop him. Kill him. And, I hate to say it, but don’t be afraid to kill his puppets. Once Anti has all us figments in his hand…I can’t begin to calculate the damage he’d do to humanity. He absolutely cannot get that far, even if some of our own have to die.” Static clouds the screen over once again, so thick Beauregard can hardly be seen, and the audio becomes fuzzy. The egos can only barely see a figure appear behind Beauregard’s chair, only just make out black tendrils beginning to swarm her body. It’s the last frame they get before the footage is only static for several long moments. A voice is heard; a familiar, scratchy tone.

“Twenty-four hours. Be ready, Ipliers.”

A cackling, strangely echoing laugh, then silence.

The egos are silent in their horror. Dr. Iplier looks at Host, sees his downturned brow and tight jaw. Dr. Iplier can’t help but look at Yandere, too, and is alarmed to see Yandere staring intently at the screen. Damien notices too, and taps Yandere’s shoulder, concerned. Yandere shakes his head, as though snapping himself out of something, and looks back at Damien in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. This all happens to the ignorance of the other egos, who are still processing what they’ve just seen. Wilford is angry but calm, and when he speaks, his tone reflects it.

“That’s our warning. I’m willing to bet Anti’ll be showing up here tomorrow right when he said he will. He likes a challenge too much to sneak up on us. That means we need to figure out how to defeat him, and who will be fighting him, in less than twenty-four hours.” Wilford sits up a little straighter. “I’ll be a part of it, obviously. I might have a shot of pulling Dark’s aura away from Anti, but if Anti’s got an army, I need one, too.” He looks at Host, then Bim. “I expect help from the other two reality-benders in the room, at the very least.”

Host and Bim both nod. Dr. Iplier squeezes Host’s hand under the table. He can’t help but fear what could happen to Host in a fight like this, what Anti might do to him. But Host has no fear, and he squeezes Dr. Iplier’s hand back without looking in his direction. He’s clearly ready for a fight, and Dr. Iplier supposes that’s better than the alternative.

“Google,” Wilford continues, looking towards the android, “What about you? Other than me and Host and Bim, you’re the heaviest hitter we’ve got.”

“That is correct,” Google agrees, but he doesn’t get any further than that before his extensions jump in.

“But Google joining the battle would be unwise,” Plus interjects.

“If Anti is so much stronger than before, he could easily get into Google’s system,” Chrome points out.

“He could get hurt or killed,” Oliver insists, “Or Anti could make him hurt or kill somebody else!”

“Anti will not be the only combatant,” Google says, terse, turning in his seat to address the triplets. “I will focus my attention on someone who cannot possess me, and Anti will be preoccupied by, in all likelihood, Wilford.”

“He knows your command words,” Chrome snaps, “He’d have no problems with taking advantage of them if he had the need, or even the want.”

“I can alter my audio settings to block him out,” Google retorts, “Or mute my audio feed altogether if necessary. I do not need sound to fight.”

“Well, if you’re fighting, then we should too!” Oliver shouts.

Google blinks.

“That does not lower the risk,” Google deadpans. “If anything, it increases it.”

“We’re as strong as you are,” Plus says, standing straighter, “If Anti has an army, we need all the muscle we can get.”

“And like hell you’re doing this without us,” Chrome mutters.

Google stares at his brothers, and they stare back. For several long moments they don’t speak, but Dr. Iplier guesses they’re using their internal communication network to hash out their argument. All four androids are equally stubborn, and in the end, numbers win out, because eventually Google sighs and turns away from his brothers, looking at Wilford again.

“All four of us will be fighting,” Google states, clearly still annoyed. The triplets visibly relax.

“Alright,” Wilford nods, pleased. “I think that should be–”

“Me too!” yells a new voice.

Yandere.

The whole table whips around to gape at him, Dr. Iplier included. He should’ve expected this, he knows he should’ve, but it’s blindsided him all the same. After all the torment, all the sleepless nights and paranoia and isolation and fear and lies, after watching Yandere be tortured and getting him back after a month apart only to break his heart, Dr. Iplier can’t let Yandere get in danger again. He can feel his heart start pounding faster. He can’t let Anti hurt his boy, not again.

“What?” Wilford sputters. “Yanny, I know you’re tough, but–”

“I’m fighting too!” Yandere shouts, eyes blazing with determination and fiery anger. “I’m strong, I’m fully healed, and I know how to fight! You need more fighters, so let me fight, too!”

“Absolutely not!!” Dr. Iplier yells, standing from his seat. The other egos start to murmur, but Dr. Iplier ignores them. “If you think you’re going to fight Anti after he already spent a month torturing you, you are sorely mistaken!”

“You’re not the fucking boss of me!” Yandere screams back, jumping out of his own seat. “I can fight if I want to, and I want to!” Yandere’s eyes flash. “I want to make Guritchi pay for what he did to me, and to Yami!!”

“That’s exactly why you can’t fight,” Dr. Iplier says, voice low and authoritative, “You’re too emotionally invested to fight strategically, and Anti will take advantage of that.”

Before, that tone was enough to make Yandere cower. But now, Yandere only seems to get even more fired up.

“And whose fault is that?” Yandere spits, “Besides, didn’t someone make Guritchi promise not to hurt me in return for Yami’s fucking aura??”

“He promised not to kill you,” Dr. Iplier reminds him, “And that was only for when he had you in his cabin. You really think he’d leave you alone now?”

“Did you think he would when you had him make that promise?” Yandere bites back.

Dr. Iplier has no good answer. He closes his mouth, ashamed.

“Wil,” Yandere begs, turning away from Dr. Iplier to look at Wilford, “Let me join, please. I have to do this.”

Wilford frowns and considers. Dr. Iplier looks at him too, silently begging for him to refuse Yandere. But Wilford has always been overindulgent of Yandere, always spoiled him and given him his way, and Dr. Iplier fears he’ll do that again. Sure enough, Wilford eventually sighs, relenting.

“Fine,” he says, “You can fight, but you better keep your head, got it?”

Yandere nods, and Dr. Iplier sighs shakily. Both sit down, and Yandere refuses to meet Dr. Iplier’s eyes. Dr. Iplier leans against Host, emotionally exhausted.

“Do we need anymore?” Wilford asks no one in particular, “I always say the more the merrier, but…”

“This is a good amount,” Host pipes up, “Any more participants risks the fight becoming too hectic. We must also consider where the egos who cannot fight will stay. If they are out in the open or near the fight, they will surely be killed.” Host represses a shudder; Dr. Iplier can just barely feel it. “The Host has seen it happen.”

“They’ll have to hide somewhere,” Bim murmurs thoughtfully, “But where?”

“…Perhaps in the clinic?” offers Damien. “Celine is already there, and if any of us are hurt, we’ll be right there.”

It’s an effort to speak up again, but Dr. Iplier makes it.

“That won’t work,” he says, unable to put any energy in his voice, “There’s no area or room big enough to hold everyone, and if any of Anti’s puppets follow you in, they could end up destroying medical supplies or breaking equipment. We’ll definitely need those after this fight.”

The egos consider.

“Wilford’s studio,” Oliver suggests, “It’s pretty big, and if all the filming stuff is put away somewhere else, it’ll be pretty empty, too. Celine can be moved in there easily, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.”

“That works,” Wilford agrees, “But Doc, what was that about…about a puppet following them?”

The egos look at Dr. Iplier, wary but not hostile.

“There’s a chance Anti might send a puppet or two after the others,” Dr. Iplier explains, “If his goal is to take the powerful ones and kill the weaker ones, and he’s gotten so much stronger, then…I don’t see why he’d wait until he’d already done the former to do the latter.”

The other egos switch their gaze to Host, searching for confirmation. Even without sight, Host can perceive their stares.

“That is a possibility,” he confirms. “The Host has seen that happen as well.”

Another pause, a bit longer this time. No one wants to imagine the weaker egos getting slaughtered, least of all those egos.

“Someone’s gonna have to protect them,” Wilford muses.

A third pause. Bing of all people is the one to break the silence.

“Well, if I’m not gonna be fighting, like, actively,” Bing says, “I could be the one to watch out for us, right?”

“You? Please,” Google scoffs.

“I’m as tough as you are!” Bing huffs. “We’re both super-strong androids, aren’t we? If you can fight then I can protect the others!”

“Me too,” Silver Shepherd pipes up, voice quiet but steady. “I’m strong, I know how to fight, and…protecting people is what I do.” He looks at Bing. “The two of us can keep the others safe.”

Wilford seems skeptical.

“Me too, aye?” Captain Magnum suddenly says. Illinois and Yancy, who are standing beside him, give him incredulous looks. “If ye haven’t noticed, I’ve got quite a bit of meat on me bones, and some hardiness from me years on the sea. Oh, and this beauty.” He unholsters a heavy, mean-looking flintlock pistol. The other egos can’t help but stare.

“Hell no!” Wilford shouts, “You’re way too young of an ego, it’s too risky!” Magnum frowns and sadly puts away his pistol as Wilford thinks for a moment and sighs. “Silver and Bing are really all I’ve got, huh? Alright, fine.”

“Wow, thanks for, like, the vote of confidence, bossman,” Bing gripes. Silver doesn’t speak, but looks resigned.

“What happens if someone gets hurt?” Bim brings up. “If Anti or one his puppets badly hurts someone, and it can’t wait until the fight is over? Dr. Iplier would have to help them, but he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier begins, thinking out loud, “Wilford is the only one of us who can teleport. So if someone got hurt and I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to get there anytime quickly without him. Meaning that it would make the most sense for me to be where he is.”

Yandere scoffs. Wilford also seems doubtful, but Dr. Iplier meets his gaze evenly.

“Couldn’t you just as easily stay with the others?” Wilford asks, “If someone in the fight needs you, we could contact you and I’ll go get you.”

“That’s an extra step during which someone could be bleeding out,” Dr. Iplier replies, “And I’d imagine the most severe injuries would happen in the main fight. If the others needed me, Silver has his communicator, and he could contact me directly.”

Silver seems heartened by someone showing faith in him, and Wilford thinks for a long moment.

“Fair enough,” he says, “That means you’re with us, then. And we know how we’ll keep in contact, so that covers planning for the fight. As for the fight itself…”

“It is possible for us to take back Dark’s aura in this fight,” Host says, “But it will require The Host, Bim, and Wilford working together. Anti will also need to be weakened before we can remove the aura from him, but not killed.”

“Not killed?” Wilford asks, disappointed.

“The reason why is unclear,” Host explains, “But The Host believes that the aura will cling much tighter to Anti if he is killed, the same way it has done to Dark when he has been killed in the past. The Host has seen futures in which we have killed Anti but been unable to retrieve Dark’s aura before he wakes.”

“We have The Cell,” Google points out, “Don’t we put him in there?”

“He always escapes,” Host says quietly, “And the futures resulting from that outcome are the worst of them all.”

Everyone is silent for many moments after that.

“Alright, I think this meeting is over,” Wilford sighs, “Host and Bim, stay here so we can talk more about strategy. Google, you and your brothers clear all the equipment out of my studio for tomorrow. Everyone else, just…get ready.”

For once, the meeting ends in silence. Everyone walks out of the room in a daze, like none of them can believe what’s happening. Dr. Iplier can hardly believe it either. Somehow it’s not the thought of being so close to the action that scares him, but the thought of those he loves being in the thick of it, of being in the most danger. He gets up to leave, and Host stays in his seat as Wilford ordered. Dr. Iplier leans down to kiss Host, and Host whispers a narration to meet his lips. There’s no need for anything else to be said. Dr. Iplier is one of the last to exit the meeting room, and instead of returning to his clinic to check on Celine or prepare a medical kit for tomorrow, he heads a few floors higher.

He knows Yandere won’t be happy to see him tomorrow. He knows better than to try to talk to Yandere right before the fight, to distract him even more than Yandere’s own rage will. But he has to speak to him. He can’t leave things unsaid between them, not before something so huge.

Still, it takes him nearly a minute to work up the courage to knock on Yandere’s door.

“Who is it?” Yandere asks, pleasant but not happy.

“It’s me, Yan,” Dr. Iplier says. He has to stop himself from calling Yandere “kid” or “love” or “son.” “Can you please let me in?”

“No,” Yandere responds immediately, “Go away.”

“Can we at least talk? Tomorrow’s going to be insane, to say the least, and I just–”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care.”

“All I want to say is that…is that I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. And I want you to be careful tomorrow. Please just let the reality-benders take care of Anti.”

A pause from the other side of the door. Dr. Iplier is beginning to wonder if Yandere has decided to ignore him when he finally speaks.

“You know that topaz necklace that Yami gave me for my first birthday?”

“Yes…What does–”

“Did you know I wear it? All the time? Under my shirt, usually, so it doesn’t get scratched or broken, but I always have it on during the day. Or if I’m gonna fight someone, I have a little case I put it in, and I can keep it there so it doesn’t get dirty. It’s got…” Yandere’s voice wobbles. “It’s got blood on it from…from when I was with Guritchi. I don’t know if he ever noticed my necklace, maybe he didn’t care, or he didn’t know what it means to me. He didn’t take it or try to break it. But it’s got blood on the chain now that still won’t come out.”

“Yan…” Dr. Iplier’s heart aches for his boy, for the hurt his little one’s gone through.

“While you were killing Yami, Guritchi was getting blood on the best present Yami ever gave me.” Yandere starts to whimper. “He ruined everything and you helped him. I’m never going to forgive you.”

Again, Dr. Iplier should’ve known. He should’ve expected this. But it still spears his heart right through with despair.

“I still love you,” he whispers, voice shaky, “I’m always going to love you. Please be safe tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Yandere’s tone is cold and angry.

Once again, there’s no need to say anything more. There’s nothing more for Dr. Iplier to say. He walks away from Yandere’s door with a heavy heart, returns to his clinic to check on Celine and make a med kit in a haze.

In the evening, Host comes in needing a bandage change. But Dr. Iplier suspects he would’ve come in regardless of his bandages. After Dr. Iplier does it, Host doesn’t say anything, just puts his arms around Dr. Iplier, holds him close. As much as Dr. Iplier needs it, as much as he melts into Host’s arms, he can tell by the way he’s being held that Host is seeking comfort, too.

“You scared, too?” he asks, quiet and sad.

“Yes,” Host admits, “There are so many ways tomorrow could go. I can’t tire myself searching for the most likely possibility so soon before the fight. For lack of a better phrase, I…I’m going in blind.”

If the situation were less dire and Dr. Iplier less upset, he’d chuckle a little. Instead, he huddles himself closer to Host, holds on tighter.

“I’m worried for you,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “And I’m worried for Yandere, too. He’s so reckless, and he’s so full of anger right now, I just know he’s going to do something he shouldn’t.”

“What about you?” Host retorts, “You’re going to be right next to this fight. There are futures where you’re hurt.” He squeezes so tight it almost hurts. “There are futures where I lose you. Anti would love to kill the person who takes care of us all.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dr. Iplier replies, “As careful as I can be while still helping those who need it. And you and the others will be keeping Anti busy.”

There’s a long moment of silence that Host breaks.

“Someone will get hurt,” he says darkly, “At least one person will be badly hurt, and one of us may die, whether it’s someone fighting or one of the weaker egos. Even if we defeat Anti, we won’t come out unscathed. That is the only certainty.”

That chilling “if” makes Dr. Iplier’s blood run cold. He can think of nothing to say.

He and Host sleep together in Dr. Iplier’s bed that night, clinging to each other like they’ll never get another chance. Dr. Iplier keeps wanting to look at Host’s time of death, at those numbers over his head showing how long he has to live, but he’s too afraid. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Host’s time is short, if the numbers are red, if his fate is sealed and imminent.

Instead, despite having Host there beside him, Dr. Iplier falls into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

~~~

The next morning, a few hours before Anti’s twenty-four hour time limit is set to end, the weaker egos are ushered into the studio by Silver and Bing. The egos are a sea of scared faces, even the more stoic among them are clearly nervous about what’s to come. The only snag occurs when the Jims hug Bim goodbye and refuse to let him go, resulting in Silver and Bing each having to pry a Jim away and carry him off (and in Oliver having to console a now-distraught Bim). Plus helps Dr. Iplier move Celine onto a stretcher, but Damien insists on helping him transport Celine into the studio. He’s calmer than Dr. Iplier would’ve expected, but he’s still a shade paler than normal and his hands shake slightly. He hugs Wilford goodbye, and Wilford hugs back like he, too, doesn’t want to let go. Before long, Wilford is teleporting the group of fighters to the lobby of the building – a space that’s wide and high-ceilinged and big enough for a fight – to await Anti’s arrival.

Dr. Iplier looks around himself. He’s a bit behind the others, out of the line of fire, but he can see enough of them from where he is to know how everyone feels. The Googles stand together, all silent and stoic, even Oliver. Despite being physically identical, they’ve never looked as similar as they do now. Bim has recovered from his moment with the Jims, and his jaw is set, his hands already glow a soft purple. Yandere’s eyes are already blazing red and his fingers are twitching, ready to grab his katana and swing. Host is practically a statue, not even narrating as he stands, sightless gaze pointed ahead and one hand holding his baseball bat. Wilford is vibrating, just as angry as Yandere but as calm as everyone else, hands clenched in fists, ready to beat Anti into submission. As badly as Yandere wants to get his hands on Anti, Dr. Iplier can’t imagine anyone who wants to destroy Anti right now more than Wilford.

Finally, after forever and not long enough, Anti arrives. He teleports to the front of the lobby not in a glitch, but in a puff of smoke, and Dr. Iplier can immediately see the influence Dark’s aura has had on him.

Last time he saw Anti, the aura was coiling around him, interested but not yet integrated. Now, Anti is surrounded in the dark smoke, his skin greenish-gray, his glitches more measured, more controlled, slower, just like Dark’s were. Figments can feel power, and even being across the room from Anti makes Dr. Iplier want to flinch and hide. He’s as sharp-toothed as ever, though, just as long-clawed, just as arrogant and self-assured. He’s grinning like he’s already won, but he’s alone.

“Anti,” Wilford says, low and tense.

“Glad to see you brought the welcoming committee,” Anti teases, looking over the group. His eyebrows raise when his eyes fall on Yandere. “I’m surprised they let you come along, gaki.”

Yandere’s cheeks turn red, and Dr. Iplier can see him puff up in anger like an angry cat. By some miracle, he refrains from charging at Anti, but trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

“If it’s just you…” Wilford drawls, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh no,” Anti laughs, “I just wanted to see what I’m working with here. You know, teleporting around is so much easier now! I can go wherever I’ve been, and wherever Dark’s been! And I don’t need to go through technology to do it. I don’t know why Dark ever walked anywhere.” He poofs away for a long moment, and when he returns, he has company. “I think this should be good enough.”

Other egos, enough for a true battle. All the Septics are there, even Jackieboy Man, all of them with a slight gray tint to their skin, all of them with deep eye bags, all of them glaring and ready for a fight. Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks to see Henrik among them, scalpel in hand and glaring mercilessly. He looks over and sees Bim visibly disheartened at the sight of Marvin, and Host clenching his jaw tighter to see Jameson back under Anti’s control. But it’s not just the Septics Anti’s showed up with. Peevils is there, smirking almost like Anti is. MadPat’s burnt and scarred face is split in a wide grin, both hands holding his chainsaw – reinforced with a flamethrower attachment – aloft. Phantom and Natemare stand beside each other, Phantom’s scepter glowing with power and Natemare surrounded by his own purple smoke. Anti turns to him with a smile.

“Go find out where the other Ipliers are hiding,” he says, “Give them a little “hello” from me.” Natemare grins and vanishes in a puff of purple.

All the Ipliers are unnerved. If Natemare finds the other egos, his fear smoke will get in their heads, terrify them into submission, and maybe even make them turn on each other in fear. Not only that, but the smoke itself is toxic, and if anyone breathes it in for too long they’re as good as dead. The studio is a large room with high ceilings, but even that might not be enough to disperse the smoke. There’s not much time to ponder it, though, because Anti rolls his neck in an all-too-familiar gesture and beckons the egos forward.

“Who wants some?” he cackles gleefully.

No one wastes any time.

Wilford launches forward, straight for Anti. Anti merely flicks his wrist, a cue to Jackie that sends him barreling into Wilford, intercepting him. Yandere can’t contain himself anymore and charges with a scream. Anti doesn’t flinch, only sends Phantom after him. Yandere brings his katana down on Phantom’s scepter instead of Anti’s head. Bim and Host move forward, Anti sends Marvin and Jameson to meet them. Peevils rushes Google, spiky insect limbs springing from her sides, wings from her back, and mandibles from her mouth. Robbie lumbers for Chrome with a feral roar, MadPat giggles wildly and flings himself at Plus, swinging his chainsaw around. Finally, Chase and Henrik circle Oliver, Chase with his handgun and Henrik with his scalpel. Dr. Iplier runs to the back of the room, both to get out of harm’s way and to observe everyone at once, to keep an eye out for injuries.

Dr. Iplier can’t help but admit that Anti planned this out well. Each combatant is suited to their opponent, organized in just the right way to be the toughest fight. Jackie is the only Septic strong enough to block Wilford’s punches, and his ability to fly even gives him an advantage. Wilford and Jackie constantly pop in and out of reality as Wilford tries to use his void to disorient Jackie, but Jackie continues going after Wilford with single-minded drive to kill. Their fighting is brutal, heavy punches and fierce jabs. Wilford is still stronger but Jackie is quicker, and they tumble through the air, evenly matched.

Bim faces off Marvin with reluctance; the pair are normally friends, and Dr. Iplier has no doubt that Anti knows. They fling magic at each other, Bim’s bright purple against Marvin’s electric green, again and again. Bim doesn’t want to kill Marvin, but Marvin has no such qualms about killing Bim. When blasts do connect with flesh, they send one person tumbling over the floor, and the other rushing to deliver a second blow. But both spring up as fast as they’re knocked down, and their fight continues on.

It’s Host and Jameson’s fight that takes the most of Dr. Iplier’s attention, however. He’s too far away to hear what Host is saying, but he can see his mouth moving a mile a minute with narrations, matching Jameson’s curled fists with his own baseball bat every time. Jameson fights with a grin on his face, eyes glowing silver, pocket watch in hand. Several times Jameson goes to wind his pocket watch and Host cracks his bat down on Jameson’s hand to stop him. Dr. Iplier wonders how many times Jameson has reversed time during the fight, how many seconds he’s taken back for his own advantage. He wonders if Host knows. Both men fight like ghosts, weaving around each other, careful and searching for openings.

The Googles are still near each other as they fight, but each one has their own battle to focus on. Peevils is in her true, terrifying form. She flies above Google on iridescent wings, jabs at him with the long spiny limbs at her waist, grabs and pulls with her black tentacles, even threatens to bite down with her mandibles. Google shows no fear, meeting her tentacles and crushing them in his fists, barely flinching when he’s stabbed with her spines. Both of them are already bleeding, but neither seem to care. Robbie relentlessly bears down on Chrome, dragging his nails down his arms and chest and biting down whenever he gets close enough. Chrome hits back, punches and holds Robbie’s jaws away, but Robbie barely feels the blows. Dr. Iplier watches Chrome pull off Robbie’s arm only for the limb’s hand to claw three lines down Chrome’s cheek, distracting him enough for Robbie to grab his arm back and quickly reattach it before launching himself at Chrome yet again. Plus dodges swings from MadPat’s chainsaw, bends out of the way of each spurt of fire. MadPat tries to get closer, but Plus always edges away, to the back or to the side, careful not to get cornered. Neither seems able to land a single blow, both locked in stalemate until one of them eventually trips up, but Dr. Iplier can’t tell who will break first. He’d have thought that Oliver would have an easy time against Chase and Henrik, the only Septics without any special abilities or strength, but he finds he’s mistaken. Oliver is afraid to hurt them, but the pair of them are ready to kill. He dodges bullets from Chase’s gun and swipes of Henrik’s scalpel, and when he finally gets openings to fight back, they block his blows with surprising strength or jump away with surprising speed. If Oliver goes for one, the other provides distraction. So far, Oliver’s injuries are few and minor, but Chase and Henrik are unscathed.

Yandere and Phantom are a study in contrast as they spar against each other. Yandere has brute force and the downswing of his katana, and Phantom has magic and bursts of energy from his scepter. Though he’s not above using the sceptor to block Yandere’s blows or swing it at Yandere’s head while Yandere’s distracted by a magic blast. But Yandere is relentless and much faster than Phantom, dodging many of Phantom’s blows and landing plenty of his own. Both of them take punishing hits, but neither are ready to give up.

Presiding over it all is Anti. He doesn’t fight, merely watches his puppets do the work for him. He grins as he watches the carnage, the fights happening throughout the lobby. With so many battles, he can always find a puppet with the upper hand, always find a battle his team is winning. He meets eyes with Dr. Iplier from across the room, and Dr. Iplier jolts in terror. But Anti only smiles at him and winks before continuing to look over the scene.

By now, Natemare must’ve found the other egos. The building is large, but it’s not infinite. Dr. Iplier can only hope that Silver and Bing are strong enough to stop him before he causes irreparable damage.

~~~

Silver and Bing stand guard at the front of the studio and wait, tense and ready to fight, as the other egos huddle away and hide throughout the room.

Well, Silver is ready to fight. Bing is nervous, he can tell, but Silver tries to keep enough confidence for them both. He’s taken charge of the others so far, having the other egos spread out to keep them safer, stationing himself and Bing at the only entrance to head off whatever threat Anti sends their way. Silver knows Anti himself wouldn’t bother with them, and he doubts that Anti would send his strongest puppets after them, either. Anti is overconfident, and Silver is quite used to being underestimated.

Still, he has to send somebody. Silver doubts he’d just let them wait until he’s defeated the main fighters. Anti loves to cause suffering and incite chaos, and this is merely another opportunity to do so.

So Silver waits, standing next to Bing, and offers him a smile.

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“Not really, bro,” Bing laughs nervously, “I’m totally freaking out, tbh.”

Silver is a bit thrown off by the spoken acronym, but shrugs it off to respond.

“Hey, we can do this. I’m here with you, and I know you know how to fight.” Silver pauses. “You were right yesterday, you know. You are an android, too, and you are tough.”

“You think so?” Bing noticeably perks up.

“Of course! We’ll get through this.”

Bing is three years younger than Silver, a huge difference for figments. Silver is used to fighting evil, used to putting everything on the line to protect others, and Bing isn’t. Bing has bravery in him, though, he has kindness in him, he has the right attitude to be a hero. But he’s practically a kid. Silver has to wonder if he volunteered out of feeling inadequate, if he saw the other Googles being allowed to fight and felt like he wasn’t good enough. It’s not the best motivation to help others, but Silver can’t help but understand. He certainly knows how it is to feel inadequate. Whatever happens, Silver decides, he’s going to make sure everyone makes it out of this alive, Bing included. No matter what it takes.

Suddenly, Silver’s super-hearing picks up on something different, something strange. Bing’s mechanically-enhanced hearing picks it up, too; Silver can tell by the way he jumps.

“What is that?” Bing asks in a tense whisper.

“Don’t know,” Silver answers, “But I think we’re about to find out.”

The sound is like hissing, not like an animal, but like air escaping a container. The hissing gets closer. From under the door to enter the studio, wisps of purple smoke curl across the floor.

Silver knows instantly who they’re dealing with, and from the look on his face, so does Bing. Of course it’s Natemare. Who else could dispatch such a large group of people as fast as possible?

“How long can you hold your breath?” Silver asks Bing as the smoke touches their feet.

“Not much longer than a normal human, dude,” Bing admits.

Mare appears before them in a poof of smoke, dark-rimmed eyes sizing them up.

“This’ll be easy,” he says, smirking.

“You hope,” Silver mutters, stepping back into a fighting stance and taking a deep breath in. Bing follows suit, and the fight is on.

They don’t have any audience, the other egos are all tucked out of harm’s way at the back of the studio. There isn’t any studio equipment in the way of the fight; it was all moved yesterday. In some ways, it’s easier to fight like this than it is to fight criminals in the street, where pedestrians can gawk and criminals can throw trashcans in Silver’s way or leap over park benches. There’s also plenty of room for Silver to fly, and he doesn’t have to worry about attracting the attention of passersby and drawing them into danger.

But none of these things help much. Silver’s never had to fight without breathing before, and it’s even harder than he would’ve guessed. Mare fully understands what Silver and Bing are trying to do, and fights to get them to draw breath. He throws smoke in their faces, his punches aim for the gut. But Bing and Silver are hitting back. Mare sometimes dodges in a puff of smoke, but Silver quickly figures out what direction he tends to dodge in, and is ready to meet him with a crack across the face every time he becomes tangible again.

Silver finds, though, that he desperately needs to breathe again. Bing seems to be faring better, whether he still has air left or has already snuck a breath under Mare’s nose. Mare can see Silver’s desperation, and hits on him harder. He moves like his smoke does, flowing over the floor and stopping in front of Silver to punch him in the stomach. Silver grunts, more air lost, but keeps his mouth shut. He swings out and manages to connect with the side of Mare’s neck, but it’s not enough to stop Mare from sending a plume of smoke into Silver’s face. The purple clouds his vision and the toxicity makes his eyes water.

All at once, Mare buckles. It takes Silver a moment to realize that Bing has kicked the back of both of his knees, one after the other, and shoved him bodily down by his head.

“Breathe, dude, I got this!” Bing shouts.

Silver backs up, smoke still in his eyes, hands waving away the cloud. He hears Bing grunt in pain, and clears his eyes in time to see Mare buck himself up, headbutting Bing’s neck. Bing gags and draws back without thinking, and Mare poofs himself back to standing. Silver finally, finally breathes, and takes in a long gasp of air as Mare kicks Bing across the face, sending him sprawling.

Silver can see in Bing’s face that he’s now the one about to run out of air, and even if he couldn’t, he can hear Bing’s fans whirring desperately as he overheats. Bing doesn’t need air for his lungs, he needs it to keep himself cool, and if he gets too hot, he could be badly damaged. Silver rushes forward as Mare plants a foot down on Bing’s chest, keeping him on the ground as he struggles. But Mare sees him out of the corner of his eye and meets him with a block of smoke, thick enough to be tangible, that slams into his chest and shoves him back, nearly toppling him over. Mare grins down at Bing, smoke curling around his fingers, ready to force Bing to breathe it in.

Bing glares at him, grabs at Mare’s leg on his chest, shoves up the pant leg, and wraps his hands around the bare skin.

Mare’s expression goes from confusion to shock to pain in a matter of seconds, and he howls, stepping back and trying to kick Bing off. A grin touches Bing’s agonized grimace and he holds fast as his overheated, metallic hands burn into Mare’s skin. While he’s distracted, Bing takes deep breaths, and once Mare seems to be getting used to the pain, Silver rushes him from behind and throws him bodily off of Bing. He catches a glimpse of Mare’s leg, which is badly burnt, at least to the second degree. Mare growls as he gets up from being shoved, and Silver keeps his eyes on him as he offers a hand to Bing to help him up. Mare limps, unable to bear much weight on the leg, but he charges forward, unwilling to give up.

The fight continues, one breath at a time.

Silver wonders how everyone downstairs is doing.

~~~

It takes a minute, but Dr. Iplier eventually figures out why Anti isn’t fighting.

Anti would very much like to join in on the carnage if his hungry gaze is any indication. Yet he continues to preside over the fight, much in the way Dr. Iplier is. But while Dr. Iplier is keeping an eye on the other egos, tracking their injuries and preparing to pull someone away to help them, Anti is doing something else. He’s not just watching the fight, he’s controlling it.

Dark’s aura isn’t behaving the way it did when Dark had it. Dark was never one for possession, not the way Anti is. The aura mimics Anti’s control over his puppets in more ways than the gray tinge to their skin. The aura is actively making them stronger, faster. It’s most obvious with Chase and Henrik: Even against the nicest Google, they shouldn’t have stood a chance. Yet they’re holding their own and evading Oliver’s punches with seeming ease. Dr. Iplier can’t speak much for Chase, but not even during the most dire emergencies has he seen Henrik move so fast, never has he seen him exhibit such physical strength. But Anti isn’t just feeding his puppets power, he’s carefully calculating who’s winning, who’s holding ground, and who’s beginning to slip. Whenever an Iplier is about to land a devastating attack on a puppet, Anti sends Chase or Henrik launching in front of the puppet with a flick of his hand. Each of them function as human shields: Despite the power the aura has given them, they’re still the weakest figments in the room, and even the most determined egos don’t want to kill them.

At one point, Google manages to stun Peevils, and it looks like he might have an opening to kill her. But as he brings his fist forward, Anti sends Henrik jumping into his path. Google’s eyes widen in surprise, and he readjusts, using his momentum to shove Henrik away before closing in on Peevils. But the extra moment is all Peevils needs to recover, and by the time Google’s in front of her she’s ready to block his hit and fight back. Then, Host nearly cracks his bat over Jameson’s head, but Chase gets in the way and breaks Host’s concentration, letting Jameson slip out of the way and resume his fight. When these little confrontations end, they always go right back to Oliver. Between the two of them, Oliver never gets a spare moment.

There’s one fight that Anti doesn’t send Chase and Henrik to interfere in though, and that fight is between Phantom and Yandere. Perhaps Anti knows that Yandere would gladly cut Chase and Henrik down to win the battle and get Dark’s aura back. But in turn, it means that Yandere is steadily but surely gaining the upper hand. Phantom may have magic, but Yandere is quick and relentless. His eyes blaze so bright they almost glow, his hands flex where they grasp his katana’s hilt, his mouth is set in a permanent snarl. There’s cuts and bruises on his skin from Phantom’s scepter and holes burned into his shirt from Phantom’s magic, but none of it seems to faze him. Phantom, meanwhile, is appearing to tire from the various gashes crossing over his skin, not to mention the bruises on his jaw from the moments Yandere got close enough to punch. He can’t keep up with Yandere anymore, and before long Yandere gets an opening.

From across the room, Dr. Iplier watches Yandere thrust his katana forward. By some miracle, he stabs through Phantom’s shoulder instead of his heart. As far away as he is, Dr. Iplier can hear Phantom’s scapula crack and split apart, and he has no doubt that the whole room can hear his howl of agony. Yandere doesn’t even pause to enjoy his victory; he only pulls his katana from Phantom’s shoulder and pushes him aside. As Phantom falls, clutching his shoulder as it bleeds, Yandere runs for Anti.

Before Dr. Iplier can act on the panic that rises in his chest, he hears a bang and a gasping cry from much closer by.

It’s Oliver, staggering backwards with a hand pressed on his chest, just above his core.

From across the room, Anti grins and winks at Dr. Iplier. And Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because he can’t stop Yandere and help Oliver at the same time. The frenetic pace of the fight makes Dr. Iplier’s choice for him.

Chase lowers his gun as Henrik comes behind Oliver, ready to slice his throat with his scalpel while he’s distracted. But he doesn’t get the chance; Google is suddenly there, jumping between them, and Oliver’s back hits Google’s with a grunt. Peevils is close behind following Google, but Google grabs Henrik by his lab coat and throws him into Peevils’s path. Henrik collides with her and the pair tumble to the ground in a tangle. Chase raises his gun again and Google pivots, turning to face him and nudging Oliver to follow the turn. The next bullet hits Google’s raised arm instead of Oliver’s head, and Google hardly flinches, instead looking over his shoulder at Dr. Iplier.

“Iplier, get Oliver!” Google shouts, and Dr. Iplier doesn’t have to be told twice. With Henrik out of the way and Oliver turned around, there’s nothing to stop Dr. Iplier from rushing forward to take Oliver’s arm and help him away from the fight. Just in time, too, for Henrik and Peevils are up again and rushing for Google as Dr. Iplier gets Oliver out of the line of fire. He doesn’t see what happens next, he’s busy helping Oliver lay down and evaluating his injury.

Dr. Iplier isn’t a mechanic, but the androids are very similar to humans in most medical respects, and he knows enough for quick patches and emergency fixes. Chase’s bullet luckily didn’t hit Oliver’s core, but it’s too close for comfort. With the way his internal machinery works, the bullet could nick the top of Oliver’s core if Dr. Iplier doesn’t remove it and quickly solder the wound closed. He has the tools to do it, and it won’t take long, but…

He looks up to the front of the room, to Yandere approaching Anti, and Anti meeting him with a grin and a gleeful laugh.

But Oliver coughs from the ground, and Dr. Iplier knows what he has to do. He opens his medical kit and pulls out the tools he needs.

“This is going to hurt,” Dr. Iplier warns Oliver, “Sorry in advance.”

“Please don’t get hurt,” Dr. Iplier internally begs Yandere, “Please don’t get hurt.”

~~~

The longer Silver and Bing fight, the harder it becomes to keep from breathing in Mare’s toxic smoke. Mare seems to realize this, for despite his burned leg slowing him down, he can’t keep a smirk off his face as he battles Silver and Bing.

Bing recovers from his near-overheating quickly, but it keeps happening, over and over. He keeps having to hold his breath for almost too long, and Silver knows that can’t be good for his hardware. Every time he regains his breath, he’s a little bit slower, his movements seem to take a little more effort. Bing is flagging, and if Silver is being honest, so is he. He feels perpetually out of breath, and even the clean gasps he manages to take in aren’t enough. Somehow he has to concentrate on his breathing and his fighting at the same time, and it’s getting harder by the moment. He and Bing are still landing hits, but the hits are weaker, and Mare has the advantage of not having to fear the smoke.

Finally, Mare punches Bing in the gut so hard that he loses all the air in him at once. He falls, winded, and his body breathes in before he can stop himself. He stays on the ground, both gasping and trying not to gasp, as Silver leaps forward to defend him, punching Mare across the face.

“Bing, come on, don’t breathe yet!” Silver cries. Purple smoke clings to the air around Bing, and Silver can see it flowing into Bing’s mouth as he pants.

“Can’t, can’t...” Bing gasps, sinking into the ground, spent. His eyes start to glaze over with fear. “No, please...”

“Oh crap,” Silver hisses. Bing’s already breathed in too much smoke. It’s up to Silver to finish this.

But Mare comes back from Silver’s punch with a vengeance, invigorated by his success in getting Bing.

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” Mare laughs as he and Silver strike and parry, “I can’t promise it’ll be quick or painless, but at least you’ll be able to breathe again!”

“Go to hell,” Silver mutters. Bing has gotten up enough to scramble away from something only he can see.

“C’mon, pease, don’t hurt me,” Bing whimpers, and Silver can’t help but hurt for him and wonder what he’s seeing.

That simple distraction is enough.

Mare punches Silver, not in the face but in the neck, making his cough and gag. He can’t stop himself from automatically trying to breathe, but there’s suddenly so much smoke around him that he can hardly get any oxygen. He falls to his knees, trying to get air before he passes out. He looks up enough to see Mare spread his arms out, sending purple smoke out in a burst. The stuff flows out from him, racing over the ground, billowing past Silver and Bing into the studio, to where the other egos are hiding.

“No,” Silver gasps, but it’s already too late. He can hardly see through the purple haze.

In the next moment, the screams start.

Shouts of alarm sound first as the egos see the smoke, urgent cries from those who know what the smoke is and demand others not to breathe it. But there’s too much of it to avoid, and the noise eventually morphs into the screams of the egos experiencing their worst fears. They meld together in a cacophony of terror, but Silver can still pick out a few.

“Leave us alone!” Damien howls, voice breaking with terror, “Haven’t you taken enough from us??”

“CJ, no, CJ!!” RJ wails. Silver can hear CJ wailing too, keening and wordless in agony.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry, please!” Eric sobs from somewhere in the room. “Don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it!!”

“Not solitary, please, let me out, I’ll do better!” Yancy hollers from another corner, “I swear I’ll do better, don’t leave me in here!!”

Silver struggles to get up as the screams of his family fill his ears. After releasing all that smoke, Mare must have been weakened. If Silver can find him, he’ll be easier to beat now than before. Silver sluggishly crawls to his feet, fighting the smoke. He feels tired, aching. It’s hard to breathe, his throat feels thick. When Silver manages to stand, he looks around, trying to find Mare. But he finds something else instead, and chokes.

It’s Roxanne, sprawled on the ground, body twisted and unnaturally broken. There’s blood leaking from her ears and nose, and her eyes are wide open, face contorted in terror. She’s ghostly pale, and Silver can tell just from looking at her that she’d be cold to touch.

“Roxy,” he gasps, nearly collapsing again.

Standing over her is Dark, looking down at Silver as he examines the fingernails on one hand. There’s blood caked there.

“Here I thought you were a stickler for the rules,” Dark says, deceptively calm, “Yet you’ve broken one of the most important rules I have for this house. What’s more, you broke it right under my nose, and kept it hidden for who knows how long.”

“D-Dark,” Silver stammers, helpless with fear. Dark is dead, this isn’t real, he knows that, but the smoke smothers that knowledge every moment he spends staring at Roxanne’s body.

“You understand that I had no choice,” Dark continues, stepping over Roxanne to approach Silver. “You put all of us at risk by cavorting with a human. And the fact that she recognized me, that she knew us...you told her far too much.”

“She was only a human,” Silver whispers, tears filling his eyes and beginning to spill. “She couldn’t have hurt us, she didn’t tell anyone else–”

“Humans cannot be trusted!” Dark snaps, aura flashing around him, silencing Silver. “Even knowing how dangerous I was, all I had to do was threaten her and she spilled everything she knew about us. She could not keep our secrets. They were never hers at all.”

“I–”

“And it was you who gave them to her,” Dark growls, grabbing Silver by the throat with the same hand covered in Roxy’s blood. Silver would gag if Dark wasn’t squeezing his throat so tight.

“Dark,” he rasps, “Please...”

Even through the tears, even through the agony and terror, Silver knows two things to be true.

“These are illusions, they are not corporeal,” he reminds himself, “Mare can only be in one place, and if he’s here, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

It’s little comfort. Silver’s mind is betraying him, and having those facts in his mind doesn’t make him fear any less, doesn’t make the hole in his heart from seeing Roxanne dead get any smaller.

“Roxanne is not the only one who needs to be punished,” Dark says, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You need to be reminded of the rules here, and you need to relearn your place.”

Silver resigns himself to this, closing his eyes in grief.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not to Dark, and not even to Roxanne.

~~~

After Yandere takes down Phantom, his only goal is Anti. He managed to restrain himself from putting his katana through Phantom’s chest, but he has no plans to do the same with Anti.

Anti is going to pay for what he’s done, no matter what Yandere has to do.

He runs to Anti where he stands lording over the fight, watching his puppets battle for him. Anti laughs to see Yandere, spreading his arms.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, hair shifting into a bright yellow-green and eyes going black. “I’d say it’s been lonely without you, but I’ve managed to find myself some company.” Dark’s aura swirls around Anti as his appearance changes back to normal, but his skin is still tinted gray, the same way Dark’s was. The sight of it makes Yandere shake with rage.

“Are you ready to die, Guritchi??” Yandere tries to growl, but it comes out like a screech, filtered through his anger. Anti laughs again and settles into a fighting stance, claws out, aura wisping around himself.

“Are you?” he asks in return, giggling madly.

Yandere launches at him, katana raised, but Anti evades, poofing away in a burst of smoke and reappearing behind Yandere.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Anti tells him smugly.

Yandere shrieks in rage and whirls around to slice through Anti’s head. But once again he teleports away, using Dark’s aura like it’s his own. It makes Yandere’s blood boil ever further, makes his vision go red.

Which might be why he doesn’t notice Anti’s aura swirling around him, blocking everything out, until the smoky gray is all he can see. He spins around, looking for Anti.

“Come out, you coward!!!” Yandere howls, out of his mind with rage.

And being surrounded by Dark’s aura is making grief rise up in him too, as raw and powerful as it was when he first found out what happened to Dark. Yandere chokes on it, on the smoke and on his own despair as he searches through the deep gray for Anti. The aura is cold, and Yandere can hear indistinct voices bubbling from all around, but it isn’t scary. It reminds him of before, when Dark’s aura would whisper through Yandere’s hair, or gently wrap around his arm, or ghost over the small of his back and push him into Dark’s arms. It’s too familiar, the cold and the wind and the quiet voices are too soothing. Yandere’s surprised by the sob that escapes his throat.

“Yami,” he gasps, “Why did this happen? Why are you gone?”

Now Anti is wearing his aura, desecrating his memory. That thought catapults Yandere back into hate and anger once again, and he searches for Anti with renewed vigor, darting around as far as he can see, katana slashing, hands trembling with the desire to kill.

“When I find you I’m ripping you apart,” Yandere growls, “I’m going to crack open your chest and stab out your heart with one of your own ribs, so you can feel what you’ve done to me.”

“Didn’t Host say you can’t kill me?” Anti laughs. Yandere tries to pinpoint where his voice came from, but it echoes too strongly. “Not if you want Dark’s aura back, that is.”

“Dirty fucking spy,” Yandere spits, “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. When Wil and the others have taken Yami’s aura from you I’ll cut out your larynx so you’ll finally shut up. I’ll pull out your claws one at a time. I’ll see what your brain looks like, I’ll split your skull open. You’ll wish you’d let me kill you earlier.”

Anti laughs, loud and cackling, but there’s something under it, something else that Yandere’s ears pick up.

Static.

Yandere freezes.

“What the fuck are you playing at,” Yandere gasps.

“What do you mean?” Anti asks innocently. Yandere still can’t see him through Dark’s aura, still can’t tell where his voice is coming from. Below his voice, static pops and crackles.

“Shut up, shut up!” Yandere screeches, whirling around, trying to get away from the static.

“You asked,” Anti chuckles, “What, don’t you remember this static? Just like old times, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you!!” Yandere screams, “Kutabare! Shine!!!”

“Wasn’t it easier, then?” Anti continues, static getting louder. Yandere feels like it’s flowing into him, through his ears and down his throat. “Wasn’t it easy when you knew I was in charge, when you weren’t thinking about anything but that? When you didn’t have a care in the world?”

“No,” Yandere moans, standing still, trying to shut the static out.

“You remember that feeling, don’t you?” Anti says, voice low and almost gentle, “You remember this too, don’t you, the way this aura feels around you, the sound of it. Doesn’t it feel good? Don’t you miss it?”

“Stop,” Yandere whimpers, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Anti coos, “Don’t cry, usagi, just listen. Just listen.”

The static is so loud Yandere can hardly think, and with its buzzing comes other messages flowing into Yandere’s mind.

Relax.

Be calm.

You are safe.

Yandere sobs for the second time as a wisp of aura curls around his cheek, wiping away tears. Another tendril ghosts by his ear, adding its murmuring voices to the static. Against his will, Yandere can feel the fear and the rage slipping away. It’s sadness, it’s the agony of lost love that flows in to replace it, and Yandere trembles with grief. It’s despair, and relief, and contentment, and relaxation. It’s right there, comfort and bliss is right there, so close, so far away ever since Yandere lost Dark. He couldn’t miss Dark more if he tried, not even having Damien around is enough. Dark’s aura is winding around Yandere like a blanket, and that horrid static is blanketing him too, rushing through him, soothing Yandere despite himself. It’s so hard to keep fighting. It’s so hard to keep missing Dark.

“I just want this to stop,” Yandere whispers through his tears.

“It will,” Anti murmurs, “It will, sakura. Just let go. Just let me in.”

How can Yandere say no to that?

He closes his eyes, and gives in.

When Yandere opens them again, they’re blanketed over with static. His katana slips out of his hands and hits the floor with a clatter. Anti finally emerges from the smoke and allows it to dissipate. But static continues to ring in Yandere’s ears, and he stays where he is, slumped and loose as Anti walks towards him, claws out, grinning, ready to finish what he started weeks ago.

Then Dr. Iplier is in front of Yandere, arms spread wide, eyes glinting with equal parts fear and stubborn determination.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” he says, quiet and angry, “Not again.”

Anti blinks, then frowns.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Oliver?” he growls, put out at the interruption.

“I did,” Dr. Iplier answers. “How long did you really think that’d take me?”

Anti flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. Sure enough, Oliver is back on his feet, fighting alongside the others again, no worse for wear aside from a hole in his shirt, revealing the metal plate soldered over his wounds.

“Whatever,” Anti says, “You’re already too late. The conditioning from the static is still in Yan’s mind, and he’s fully sucked in now. All that’s left is for me to put him out of his misery.”

“Are you really such a coward that you’d kill him like this?” Dr. Iplier asks, trying to tamp down his anger. “Do you think he’d beat you in a straight fight? Are you scared you’re outmatched? So now you’re gonna kill him when he’s incapacitated? What are you afraid of?”

Anti snarls, lips curling dangerously.

“Watch yourself, Doc,” Anti growls, “You can’t stop me from killing Yandere, but I might just kill you first.”

“Do it then,” Dr. Iplier says, standing up straighter, “Kill me. Give Yandere a chance to fight back. If you’re so confident you can beat him then do it. Maybe you’ll get a better fight out of killing me first.”

Dr. Iplier stares at Anti, unwavering, even as static buzzes around him, even as Dark’s aura whips against his skin, blows his hair around. Anti glowers, but he’s thoughtful. Dr. Iplier can feel Yandere’s presence behind him, how he’s almost leaning against Dr. Iplier’s back, so boneless from the static in his mind that he can barely stand at all. Dr. Iplier stands up tall and looks Anti in the eye with dignity as he waits for Anti to kill him.

“You know, every once in a while you have a pretty good idea, Doc,” Anti finally admits, grinning. “But you’d really do this? You’d really deprive the others of their medic, just for him?”

Why wouldn’t he? That’s how this whole situation started, because Dr. Iplier couldn’t bear to see Yandere killed. Maybe he hasn’t learned his lesson, maybe he’s still being selfish, maybe it’s a bad idea in the long run to sacrifice himself. But if it gives Yandere a chance to get away from Anti, or the other egos a chance to see what’s happening and stop him, then isn’t it worth it?

Dr. Iplier feels Yandere’s weight off his back, hears him step back.

“Shishi?” he mumbles, groggy and confused but coming back to himself.

And that’s all Dr. Iplier needs to be certain of his choice.

“I would,” he answers Anti, “For Yandere, I will.”

“Suit yourself,” Anti says. He reels his arm back. “Say goodbye.”

Anti punches through Dr. Iplier’s chest, coming out the other side with his heart clutched in his clawed hand.

For a long moment, there is only silence as Anti pulls his arm back out, taking Dr. Iplier’s heart with him. Dr. Iplier’s body sways and falls, back hitting the ground, gaping chest facing the ceiling, blood pooling around him.

Then, Yandere screams.

~~~

Silver coughs, not from the purple smoke surrounding him, but from the kick to his stomach that’s sent him rolling across the floor.

“Please,” Silver wheezes. There’s specks of his own blood on the ground. Dark – no, Mare – but it’s Dark – walks up to him, dress shoes clacking against the floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Dark answers, voice deceptively smooth.

Silver sighs, exhausted. He can still hear the terrified cries of the other egos, but it’s supplemented by coughing as their bodies try to expel the smoke. Even with the coughing, the volume is quieter than it was before, as though some egos have gone silent. If this doesn’t end soon, someone is going to die. But Silver is paralyzed. He can hardly think, hardly breathe, hardly move. All he has is fear. His eyes are wide behind his mask, his only desire is to run away, escape, but his body won’t let him.

Dark kicks him in the head, and Silver cries out as stars burst in his mind.

“Roxanne was lucky, all things considered,” Dark muses, circling Silver like a shark as he clutches his forehead. “I could’ve killed her like this, slow and painful. But I let her die quickly. I hope you’re grateful.”

A rush of agony rips through Silver, but running alongside it is a sense of wrongness.

“Y-You’re gonna…gonna kill me?” Silver asks.

“You’ve always been a liability,” Dark – Mare? – growls, “And now you’ve become a hazard.”

“Then, then…” Silver struggles from the ground, managing to get on his hands and knees. “You’d put me in…in your v-void for a week…” He slowly drags himself to his feet. “Or s-stick me in The Cell.” He looks Dark – no, Mare in the eyes. “Dark would never kill one of us, n-no matter what we did.”

Mare, wearing Dark’s appearance like a hologram, blinks in confusion. His eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger.

“Does it matter?” he spits, grabbing Silver by the throat. “What are you gonna do about it? Look around, Silver, you already lost.” He grins. “My smoke’s going to kill them all, and I’m going to kill you.” He squeezes Silver’s throat, and Silver wheezes, trying to breathe. He kicks out and claws at Mare’s hand, but he’s too weak to break free. Mare’s hand gets tighter, his grin meaner. “Some hero you were.”

Silver can’t breathe. Not even the fear smoke can get into his lungs, and he was already out of breath from his injuries. It only takes moments for his vision to start narrowing, for his chest to start burning from the inside. What little energy he had leaves him, and his arms and legs begin to still. The world around him starts to go dark, a booming crack sounds–

And Silver’s on the ground, Mare’s hand gone from his neck, coughing and gasping for air. His vision is still blurred from tears as he coughs, but when he looks up, he can tell that Mare looks like Mare again, not Dark. The area is much less purple than it was a moment ago, and Mare is using the hand that earlier held Silver by his throat to hold his other arm. His shoulder is bleeding profusely. He’s shocked, staring at something behind Silver. Silver turns to look, and gapes.

It’s Captain Magnum, hand still raised, flintlock pistol still smoking. Silver manages to sit up, and he can see the look on Magnum’s face, darker than a storm. His pupils are dilated and Silver can tell he’s breathing rapidly, but it’s as though his body’s fear response isn’t affecting his conscious mind.

“What the hell,” Mare gasps, “You’re supposed to be seeing your worst fears!”

“I don’t fear a thing but the briney deep,” Magnum snarls, voice low like thunder, “And I respect her more than I could ever fear her. Now, if ye don’t make yerself scarce, I’ll see ye to Davy Jones, and that’s a promise.”

Mare glowers, but there’s not much he can do. His shot shoulder still bleeds heavily, and his arm hangs down limply like he couldn’t move it if he tried. The smoke dissipating from the room is further evidence that he’s been weakened. It would take Magnum too long to reload his pistol to shoot Mare again, but he’s more than capable of beating Mare down with his bare hands. Mare seems to recognize this, so he spits angrily in Magnum’s direction before turning into smoke, floating slowly away and taking the rest of the purple in the air with him.

“Mate, ye alright?” Magnum asks Silver, hurrying over and helping him up.

“As good as I can be,” Silver says, but he already feels better without the fear smoke in his system. “Just…thank you, that was incredible.”

“Arr, t’was nothing,” Magnum mumbles, but he can’t help but give an embarrassed smile.

“Yo, Mags, what’re you doing here?” asks Bing, walking over. There’s confusion written on his face as the smoke clears from his mind. “What the hell happened?”

“Magnum shot Mare in the shoulder,” Silver says, “We’re safe now.”

“Man, sorry I couldn’t help,” Bing says, frowning at himself. “I didn’t–”

He’s cut off by someone – Bop, Silver quickly realizes – crashing into his side and hugging him tight.

“Bing, Bing,” he sobs, burying his face into Bing’s neck.

“Boppy, hey, it’s okay,” Bing murmurs, turning to him and hugging him back, Silver and Magnum forgotten. “It’s alright, we’re all good, baby…”

“I guess that’s my cue to check on the others,” Silver says to Magnum, “Hopefully no one’s hurt; that smoke can be deadly.”

“I best be seein’ about my mates as well,” Magnum muses, subdued, “The pair o’ them so afeard wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Silver nods, and the two part ways into the studio. Before he goes, Silver can’t help but look back at where Roxanne was lying, but she’s gone like Mare’s smoke is. Still, Silver shudders as he turns away and walks off, knowing he’ll be seeing Roxanne’s body in his nightmares for the foreseeable future.

He finds the Jim Twins first, huddled together so tight they look connected, both crying silently and trembling. RJ is the one who answers Silver’s questions about how the pair are feeling and breathing, as CJ refuses to let RJ go to sign. RJ won’t take his arms away from his twin either. CJ seems to have a lingering cough, but neither twin is in immediate danger from smoke inhalation.

“Did either of you lose consciousness?” Silver asks.

“Well, I know I didn’t,” RJ mumbles, “I don’t know about CJ, I didn’t…” He pauses, eyes getting teary again. “I thought he was dead.”

CJ buries his face in RJ’s neck, as though he experienced the same thing. Silver can imagine what the twins saw, and his heart aches for them.

Silver finds the trio of new egos next. Yancy and Illinois are tangled in each other, and the pair of them are nearly swallowed up by Magnum’s arms around them. Neither are crying, though they both have tracks down their cheeks from earlier tears. Yancy is trembling.

“You’re all okay?” Silver asks them, “Any trouble breathing?”

“No,” Yancy and Lio answer at almost the same time. Magnum looks at them both with worry. He must have an idea of what they saw in Mare’s smoke, but the pair aren’t about to mention it.

Silver moves on, and finds King of the Squirrels, Ed Edgar, and Eric all sitting together. King and Ed are sitting together, that is; Eric is sitting in Ed’s lap, arms around his neck, audibly crying. Ed is holding him and stroking his hair, trying to soothe, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost. King is similarly skittish, and he jolts when he hears Silver approaching, though he relaxes once he sees him.

“You okay?” he asks, “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Haven’t we all?” Silver replies, trying to smile. “You guys alright? Can you breathe well?”

King and Ed both nod, and Ed speaks up.

“Eric was sayin’ he couldn’t catch his breath a minute ago,” Ed says, “Can’t tell if it’s breathin’ trouble or if he’s still too upset from all them illusions.”

It’s not an unfounded assumption; Eric is clearly still distraught over whatever he saw. But he’ll definitely need to be first in line when Dr. Iplier is checking everyone over.

There’s still two more people Silver has to check on, and he finds them before long. Damien sits against Celine’s stretcher, trembling, clutching one of her hands in his.

“Damien?” Silver asks softly, trying not to startle him. Damien still jumps at the sound of Silver’s voice.

“Oh, S-Silver,” he gasps, “I’m…I’m alright, I think, and Celine is as well, I believe…”

Silver still walks up to Celine to check her pulse and make sure she looks alright. Damien seems to be right; her pulse is normal and her color hasn’t changed. But Silver has his doubts about Damien. He’s still shaking, and his breathing is a little too fast and a little too shallow.

“Hey, Damien,” Silver says, kneeling down to him, “Celine’s breathing is okay, but you need to breathe, too.”

“I’m, I…” Damien tries, but his voice is quiet and his pupils are still blown wide in terror. Silver gives him a reassuring smile.

“Here, let’s take a few breaths together. There’s no more smoke in the air, so it’s safe to breathe now. We’ll breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight. Four, seven, eight. You understand?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Then let’s start. In…” Silver breathes in, starting a count to four in his mind. Damien does the same, with effort. “Hold…” Silver counts to seven, and so does Damien, though he’s clearly fighting the urge to hyperventilate. “Out.” Silver exhales as he counts to eight, and Damien follows, though he seems to run out of breath to exhale partway through. Still, he’s trying, and that means it’s already working.

Silver isn’t used to seeing Damien like this. He hasn’t had much cause to interact with him before this, but Damien was always so composed in every meeting, even when he was clearly rattled. Damien may have been unnerved and confused in the videos about him, but in real life, he has the decorum and composure one would expect of a city mayor. But now, though, in the face of Mare’s smoke, he’s a terrified wreck. Not that Silver can blame him; that fear had nearly gotten the better of himself, too. Though the breathing exercise is for Damien, Silver has to admit it’s working to dissipate the last of his own anxiety as well.

The pair keep breathing for a little while, and after several repetitions, Damien recovers. He stops trembling, his eyes are no longer so wide, and when he speaks again, his voice is calm.

“Thank you,” he says, “I apologize, that smoke just…” He considers what words to use, but Silver smiles gently again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, “You should’ve seen me earlier.” He sighs. “That was Natemare. He’s another figment, from someone else. That smoke was his power. It’s poisonous and makes people hallucinate their worst fears.”

“I see,” Damien says, thoughtful. He laughs weakly. “That explains what I saw.”

Silver doesn’t ask. He knows it’s not his business. Damien thinks for a moment longer, then sighs.

“I imagine he hasn’t shown his face here, else I would’ve been told about it,” Damien muses, “But then…that means he could still appear. If Dark and Wilford haven’t found him…he must still exist.”

Silver knows who Damien’s talking about, and he nods.

“Well, I suppose it’s just as well,” Damien says, smiling tiredly, “If the fans could love someone like Dark, or love who Wilford has become, then why wouldn’t they love Mark, too?”

It occurs to Silver then that Damien is tremendously lonely. Wilford is so different he’s hardly the same person, and all Damien has his comatose sister. Silver was planning to return to his own friends after checking on Damien, to stay with Ed and King and Eric until he got news from the egos downstairs. But Damien needs company, he needs a person to lean on right now. Of all the egos in the room now, Damien’s the only one who’s alone.

Silver already knows that being a hero means sacrifices. Sometimes big ones, like his earlier fight with Mare. But sometimes small ones, like this, like now.

Damien doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Silver, but the silence is amicable. Silver’s super-hearing can pick up the murmurs of other egos, talking and reassuring each other. He can hear that Damien is breathing normally now, can see that he’s calmer. And Silver feels calmer, too.

The calm is shattered by a shrill, wrenching scream piercing the air.

Silver and Damien both jump a mile, and as the scream fades, it’s replaced by the fearful exclamations and surprised shouting of the other egos.

“What on earth was that??” Damien gasps.

“It…” Silver’s stomach knots up as he realizes. “It came from downstairs.”

Damien’s eyes widen. He clutches Celine’s hand a little tighter.

Silver wonders, and fears, what could possibly be happening.

~~~

Host has been fighting for much longer than everyone else.

The first time Jameson grabbed his pocket watch and turned back the seconds, the Host’s power let him follow without trying, and both men were too surprised to make much use of the knowledge. But Jameson is used to time, he knows the right moments to do over and the right ones to let slip. Host follows along, trying not only to defeat him, but stop his hand from turning time back whenever he tries. But Jameson is quick, nearly as quick as Host’s words, and nearly quicker than his swinging bat. Time reaches back and reaches back, but Host can’t check how many seconds have been lost, can’t narrate how long they’ve been fighting. His narration flows out of his mouth in a rapid stream, tracking Jameson’s movements and letting him now when they’ve gone backwards. He cannot stop even for a moment to think of anything else, he cannot stop the endless torrent of words. If he loses track for even a moment, he’ll lose his momentum and fail to catch up, and Jameson will win. He can’t even tell who’s winning at all. He can only focus moment-to-moment, as Jameson endlessly tries to reach back into the past.

But then a wail splits the room, and both Jameson and Host are given pause.

“The fight ceases,” Host narrates, words nearly too fast to be understood, just as they’ve been this whole fight. “The entire fight ceases, the others are rendered still. They look to the front of the room for the source. It is Yandere, anguished. Beyond him is Anti, triumphant and cackling. Between them is Dr. Iplier, d–”

Host chokes. His words leave him. After so many minutes of relentless speech, of constantly narrating nearly without breath, this is the word that stops him. It does not escape his lips, but he already knows what it is. He already knows what happened. He already knows what he lost.

The word “dead” does not leave his mind and pierce the air, but it is still the word that breaks him.

“Edward,” he gasps as his heart shatters.

Anti is still laughing, Yandere is still sobbing. Host continues to narrate, mechanically and quietly, enough to see the other egos still frozen still, comprehending, enough to see Anti’s puppets also frozen, distracted by Anti’s murderous glee. Yandere falls to his knees, crouching over Dr. Iplier, and Anti advances, ready to take Yandere next.

At that, the spell is broken. The fight resumes. The puppets work to distract the egos, to keep them from reaching Yandere to offer help. Host is pulled back into his own fight, still numb with loss, so he cannot see what happens next.

He cannot see Wilford run to intercept Anti and rescue Yandere, only to be bodily stopped and blocked by Jackie. He cannot see Chrome break away from his fight with MadPat to run across the room, faster than any human could go. He cannot see the other Googles shout to him, try to stop him. Though Host does not see these things, they happen, and they lead to Chrome advancing on Anti with eyes blazing red, and Anti laughing at the sight of him.

“You really think you can stop me, little tin can!?” Anti laughs, nearly howling with joy and madness. Yandere has enough time to look up and see Chrome there, enough time to be shocked through his tears.

There is time for nothing else before Anti launches, slamming into Chrome, into Chrome, sending him stumbling, staggering back. Anti disappears from view and into Chrome’s system in the blink of an eye. By the time Chrome has regained his balance, he isn’t Chrome any longer. His metallic skin has gone gray, inky smoke billows around him, bizarre swathes of glitching criss-cross over him. His expression changes from rage to manic glee, but his eyes stay burning red, so bright it hurts to meet his gaze.

“Oh, that was easy,” Anti exclaims through Chrome’s mouth, laughing through Chrome’s throat. “I’m on a roll, who wants to be next?” He grins down at Yandere. “How about we finally finish this, usagi?”

Yandere is frozen where he kneels over Dr. Iplier, eyes wide with terror. But before Anti can move forward, he’s grabbed at both sides by two sets of inhumanly strong arms.

“Chrome, kick him out!” Plus shouts from the right.

“You can push him out, I know you can!” Oliver cries from the left.

“Bim, get Anti!” yells Google, following a few paces behind his brothers.

“Gimme a second!” Bim yells back, too preoccupied with fending off a magical blast from Marvin to retaliate immediately.

Anti understands this, and grins wickedly. He brings one foot down on Plus’s ankle, metal against metal, crushing it mercilessly. He sends a swathe of inky black into Oliver’s face, pushing the aura into his eyes and mouth. Both Plus and Oliver are distracted by the onslaught, instinctively loosening their grip on Anti’s arms. And that loosened grip is all it takes. Google, still a few steps too far away, knows what’s about to happen but isn’t fast enough to stop it.

Google isn’t fast enough to stop Anti from freeing his arms and sending each one through the chests of Plus and Oliver, each hand coming out the other side with a chunk of glowing core in his claws. Anyone who doesn’t see it happen is alerted to it by Bim’s horrified scream. Plus and Oliver collapse in two heavy thuds, and Anti’s arms, Chrome’s arms, are stained near to the shoulders with oil.

In the next moment, Google has tackled Anti to the ground, pinning his arms awkwardly beneath him, but Anti hardly cares. He cackles wildly, deliriously happy from his victory, as Google keeps him on the ground, eyes glowing bright blue.

“Bim!!” Google roars.

“I’m trying!!” Bim screeches, already crying as he tries to fend off Marvin and free Chrome from Anti at the same time.

At that moment, Host lands a lucky swipe at Jameson with his bat, knocking his head sideways and making him fall. Host has a moment to reevaluate and understand the shouting he heard while he was fighting with Jameson.

“Plus and Oliver are dead, by Anti’s hands in Chrome’s hands,” Host narrates, trepidation knotting in his chest, “Bim cannot pull him out and fight Marvin at the same time. Wilford cannot break away from Jackie to assist, and the puppets that the Googles left are advancing on them now.” A spares a moment to find the future. “If something is not done, Anti will kill Google, and the rest of the egos will likely follow.”

Host has only one idea. He doesn’t know how much time it will garner, but with Jameson half-concussed, it could be enough to stop the carnage and finally end this fight. He has no choice. He breathes in, long and deep, and then he pulls in all of his power and speaks.

“Anti and his puppets are still!” Host bellows, loud over the battlefield.

They all freeze, even Chrome’s body no longer struggles under Google. They are confused, they flex their muscles, they try to move, but they cannot.

“Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still,” Host continues, murmuring low, power shimmering in the air around him, bright and golden like light in stained glass. To keep so many powerful figments frozen in place requires him to repeat the statement as a mantra, to continuously feed it power. Once again, if he stops his narration for even a moment, it will all be over. “Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still–”

Bim finally manages to yank Anti out of Chrome, and as Anti reappears, Chrome sags into the floor, face obscured by his bangs falling into his face. Google releases his arms and moves off of him, but Chrome stays where he is and begins to shake. Anti, despite being unable to move, laughs for the hundredth time, still high on bloodlust.

“I’m three for three here, huh?” Anti giggles, glitching like a light show even under Host’s spell. “Host can’t keep up a narration that powerful for long.”

“I don’t need long,” Google growls, standing up and grabbing Anti by the neck in one swift movement. His thumb digs into the slice across Anti’s neck, making him gag through his laughter, but not making him stop.

“Don’t kill him, Google,” Wilford speaks up, sighing as he approaches, finally able to confront Anti now that Jackie is rendered frozen. He talks like he’s been inconvenienced, but his bright pink eyes and deep-set scowl betray his rage. “We won’t get anywhere that way. Besides, there’s better ways to get Anti out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Anti coughs, splitting blood through his smiling teeth. Google reluctantly releases him, throwing him to the side and returning to Chrome’s side. Anti manages to stay standing, and despite the blood now running down his neck, stays triumphant. “What are you gonna do, if you’re not gonna kill me?” Anti asks Wilford, taunting.

Wilford poofs around the room, once to grab Jackie by the throat, once to do the same to Marvin, and once again to come back before Anti, holding them by their necks in front of him. Host’s spell prevents them from even squirming in Wilford’s grasp.

“I’ll take away a couple puppets,” Wilford says, “Or you can leave now and keep them for a while longer. Choose.”

“You won’t do it,” Anti says, still grinning, “They’re puppets; they aren’t in control. Besides, some of your fellow Ipliers are pretty fond of them. You won’t kill them.”

“You don’t think I would?” Wilford asks, expression darkening even as his mouth quirks into an unhinged smile. “You think I give a shit about Jackie or Marvin? You think I care about making a few people upset?” He squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks a little tighter. “I’d rather they be upset than dead. You’ve already killed Dark, so don’t expect me to shed a tear for your puppets.” His smile widens, splitting his face, eyes still glowing pink. “After everything, what’s a little more death? What’s a couple more bodies? What’s a little more madness?”

With that, he squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks hard, and two loud crunching snaps fill the air. Wilford tosses both bodies at Anti’s feet, and they flop to the ground like ragdolls, heads lolling too far. Bim gasps, but otherwise, all is silent. Anti’s expression changes from glee to rage in an instant.

“You fucker! Those are my strongest puppets!!” Anti screeches. Even in his anger he cannot break Host’s spell.

“Your move, glitch,” Wilford replies, poofing away briefly to grab Jameson and hold him by his neck in front of Anti. “You wanna lose your time traveller next? You wanna test me again?”

At that moment, a clutch of purple smoke wavers into the room. Anti and Wilford turn to look, and see Natemare appear at the end of the room, just outside the doors to the stairs. Host’s spell seizes him as well, and he cannot move, but Anti can see his messy shoulder wound and his too-pale face even at a distance. It reminds him of Phantom, who Yandere stabbed in the shoulder what feels like ages ago. He’s still lying on the floor where he fell, surrounded by blood, probably unconscious, possibly worse. Anti looks back to Wilford, to Jameson in his grasp, to Host still narrating him and his puppets still. With Host busy narrating, the egos can’t take Dark’s aura from Anti, but Anti can’t retaliate and finish the fight. They’ve reached a stalemate, and Anti knows it.

Finally, Anti growls in frustration, glitching harshly, shadows of himself splitting off and raging just like Dark’s glitches used to do.

“Fine,” Anti snarls, “Let us go and we’ll leave. But mark my words, you’ll see us again. And next time will be the last time.”

“It sure as hell will,” Wilford spits.

The Host finally, finally lets his narration stop completely, and Anti and his puppets can move again. Wilford tosses Jameson away, and as soon as his hand leaves his neck, Anti teleports himself and his puppets – Jackie and Marvin included – away with a flash of black smoke.

Host groans and slumps over, spent. Bim manages to get to him fast enough to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Let go,” Host rasps, voice nearly gone. Despite his exhaustion, he pushes Bim away, and Bim is too upset over the last few minutes’ events to protest.

Host stumbles blindy across the room, and Bim follows in a daze, still sobbing. Google is kneeling on the floor with Chrome, holding him tight, expression bleak and haunted. Chrome is keening, emitting a low metallic screech, curled in on himself and unable to look at his brothers’ bodies. Bim falls to his knees beside Oliver and collapses onto his chest, weeping. Host goes further, and narrates Wilford, sitting behind Yandere and stroking his hair, eyes still bright pink and expression still angry. He narrates Yandere, face in his hands, sobbing, Dr. Iplier’s head in his lap. He narrates Dr. Iplier’s body, cold now, blood congealed, eyes still open and glassy.

“My love,” Host whispers, voice hardly audible. He kneels beside his doctor, cups his face in his hands. He knew he’d be cold, but feeling it is far worse than narrating it. He moves one hand to tug Dr. Iplier’s eyelids shut, but it doesn’t make Dr. Iplier look any less dead in his mind’s eye. He’s still pale, there’s still a hole in his chest, there’s still blood on the floor. Host’s mind moves with a hundred thoughts at once, a hundred memories, a hundred moments with his doctor and a hundred times he loved him. Yet he can think of nothing at all. There is nothing in his mind but pain. His body aches from exertion, but it aches from loss, too. Despair builds in Host’s chest until he moans, long and loud, adding a resonant low tone to Yandere and Bim’s high-pitched sobs, to Chrome’s scratchy static wail. That’s the note that allows the symphony of grief to flow up to the third floor, to reach the horrified ears of the other egos.

When the weaker egos leave the studio, they see the group who fought trudging forth, faces drawn and eyes still leaking. Google is stone-faced as he carries Oliver, Chrome stares at the floor as he carries Plus. Host, despite his flagging strength, holds Dr. Iplier tight against his chest, and Bim walks alongside him in case he needs support, still in tears and unable to look away from Oliver. Wilford heads the group with Yandere, who’s still distraught, weeping in his arms. The other egos gasp and cry out as what happened sinks in. Some begin to cry, some are in too much shock. The Jims swarm Bim in tears at the sight of Oliver, and Bim does his best to comfort them. Ed steps in front of Eric, trying to shield him from the carnage, but Eric begins sobbing anyway. King and Silver are horrified to see Dr. Iplier, one of the oldest and most steadfast of them all, dead in Host’s arms. The rest of them react in varying levels of despair, all knowing that Anti has gotten away, and that he’s taken the lives of three of their own with him.

“Good god, what happened?” asks Damien, quietly horrified and barely audible through the screams and sobs of the other egos.

“What do you think?” asks Wilford, no longer enraged, but only exhausted. “We lost.”