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the-avengers-not-the-nazis · 2 months

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Bad moon rising III

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.7k

Poly!Lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This chapter will have a brief mention of SA, so this is your warning! But, don’t worry because we kick ass, literally. I also love this chapter, because it does go a bit more into the boys protectiveness and yours and theirs feelings for one another. So please in joy:)

You awoke groggily the next morning.

Staying up late the night before at the boardwalk did not mix in well with your normal sleeping routine. Sun filtered through the blinds, the light casting a glow throughout your bedroom. You lightly stirred awake, tugging on the itchy sheets to keep last of your sleep from wandering away.

“Y/n?” A voice called out from behind the closed door. “Sam and I’ve made breakfast, if your hungry.”

A muffled ‘ok’ surpassed your lips, the sound of your mother’s footsteps fading from your door. You reluctantly got out of bed, your pajama shirt that you may or may not have taken from Micheal’s closet rested loosely around your hips, the waist of your shirts twisted around your body from last nights sleep.

Glancing around your room, you took in the multitude of box’s that littered the ground. Each having different labels from t-shirt and underwear all the way to cd’s and band posters. You knew that you’d have to empty the boxes at one point, and not fish through everything just to find a clean pair of socks.

You slowly walked out of your room, careful not to roll an ankle stepping over a box of shoes. The floor was cold against your bare feet, causing a soft chill to run through your body as you made your way down the stairs.

Soft clinking of silverware and scraping plates met your ears as you rounded the stairs railing. Sam, Micheal and mom came into view, each of them sitting around the dining table, their breakfast either already eaten or halfway gone.

Your gave them each a morning greeting, mom receiving a politer one than either of your brothers. Upon entering the kitchen, you made a quick plate, filled with plenty of eggs and bacon to keep your hunger subsided for a couple of hours.

You returned back to the dining room, sitting next to Micheal. Mom and Sam sat on the opposite side, a single plate pulled with just bacon and a glass of orange juice sat at the head of the table. Definitely Grandpas.

Though, where the old man currently was, is beyond you.

As you start to eat your breakfast with your family, the gentle noise from outside passing as conversation for now. Mom let out an appealed hum, mouth stuffed with her own cooking, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she began to speak.

“I forgot to tell you guys,” Voice slightly muffled by her hand. “I already found a job for myself.”

You slowed your eating, glancing between your brothers and mother. “Already?” You asked, lightly stabbing the yellow bit of egg. “We’ve been here less than a day, how have you got a job?”

Mom lowered her hand, smile still evident on her face. “Yes, well, last night at the boardwalk, I met a fine man who offered me a job at his store.”

“Fine man?” Micheal echoed, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t have to expect him around the house, will we?”

“No, no.” She waved off. “He is just a sweet man, who happened to notice someone in need of work.”

You shared a quick glance at Micheal, not entirely certain if the guy was just looking out for a stranger or more. Sam, on the other hand, was estatic for mom. Talking with a mouthful of his breakfast. “That’s great, mom. And, just think, when you get your first check, we can buy a TV.”

Micheal rolled his eyes at his brothers sudden accusation, you held back a smile. Remembering the conversation from yesterday about having no MTV to watch here at grandpas.

“We can’t spend our money on entertainment, Sam. We have help pay for food and bills, we can’t just live off of grandpa forever.” She told him, taking a quick sip of her orange juice. “Besides, a video store will not pay that much on the first check.”

“Your working at a video store?” You asked, even though she had just told you the answer to your question.

She gave a soft nod, standing up from the table with her plate and drink in hand. “Yes, unfortunately. It was the only thing that I could find in such short notice.” She then walked out of the dining room, leaving you with your brothers.

Sam looked between you and Micheal, a sad look on his face. “My god,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair with defeat. “We’re going to be living in the streets by the end of the summer.”

You kicked him beneath the table, earning a pained noise to pass his lips.

After breakfast, you returned back upstairs, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. Kicking an empty box out of your way as you sat down on your bed. Out of the corner of your eye, the sun bounced off of a square object, the light shining in your face.

Turning in the direction, you eyed the cd from last night. The same one that the bleach blonde slipped into your back pocket. Reaching over, you picked up the object, twisting it around in your hand as you read the song listings for the cd.

You pondered with the disk in hand, gently tapping it against your palm as you eyed your cd player. A pair of headphones hung on top of the device, eagerly waiting to be played.

A tired sigh passing your lips as you opened the plastic case. You weren’t one to judge people’s music, often giving each genre a try before making a conclusion on it. But, stolen music was something that’d you’d happily judge.

Placing the disk into the appropriate slot, you pressed play on the cd player. The music played through the headphones, the padded material fitting snug against your ears. You laid out on your bed, letting the music calm you, despite the punk metal flowing through your head.

You hadn’t seen the four boys over the past week at the boardwalk. Well, you did see them, anyone could see them. But, they were always driving away on their bikes or terrifying some tourists that got to close to them.

You also didn’t know what to say to them, it wasn’t like you were friends with any of them. So, you just stuck to the side when they would get too close or change directions entirely, not wanting to be noticed by the leatherback motorcyclists.

But, you were noticed.

They knew when you were near, and they knew when you would hide away in a random shop when they’d passed by. To them it was hilarious, this girl that they’d barley known was doing everything in her power to keep herself hidden from them.

It wasn’t like it was something new to them, plenty of people dodged their presence when around them. Often, giving them a clear path to walk along the boardwalk.

Though, whenever they would catch the sweet odor of your perfume, or the soft beating of your heart. Their feet would follow after you, trailing a good distance behind to not alarm you of their presence.

And it was like they couldn’t stop when they would catch your smell in a crowd.

It was something deep down that made them follow after you, something deep within their cold body’s that tethered them with you. They all felt it, that odd pull when one of them would spot you. But, none of them would speak out loud about it, not knowing how to ask what it was or why it was you.

They just knew that the pull they’d fell would softly strengthen itself they closer they were to you. And a small part of them was curious of what it could mean.

You watched as the sun lowered itself behind the crashing waves of the ocean, soft pinks and purples mixing in with the night sky before it turns black. It was always mesmerizing how the sun would move so quickly, yet slowly throughout the day. Beginning and ending just as it had started, beautifuly.

The railing from the boardwalk dug into your forearms as you leaned against it, a peaceful feeling scorching through your body at the sight before you. You knew you’d have to leave soon, you promised mom that you’d be back before dinner.

Pulling yourself from the deck, you made your way over to the stairs leading down to the beach. Straps of your bag digging into your shoulders, as the weight of your items shifted. The only reason that you had brought the thing was because you’d wished to open your wallet a bit more tonight.

A couple of happy’s for your family and yourself. As well as your house keys, wallet and Walkman. (For when you get bored.)

The sand inched itself into the crevices of your soles, no doubt something that mom would get on to you about if you track any kind of grime into the house.

You could have just walked along the boardwalk, but you were growing a bit tired of the over packed people crowding around you. Too many sweaty bodies, and far too many noises. So, a nice walk along the beach would be the perfect way to end the night.

A small fire came into view, the light casting a soft glow around a group of kids that surrounded it. You didn’t recognize them. Not that you’d recognize a whole lot of people with only being in town for a total of two weeks, but still. Loud music came from the group, shouts and laughter erupting the quiet atmosphere of the beach.

You kept your focus away from the group, not wanting to disturb their own fun. Keeping a far away distance to not draw any attention towards yourself. Though that seems to be the opposite of tonight’s plans.

A sharp whistle came from the group, dragging you out of your peace.

You glanced over at the bonfire, stopping momentarily in the sand. They were a lot closer to you than the fire itself, maybe a few feet away than the couple of yards they were previously at.

“Where you running off to on such a nice night, babe?” One of them asked, his voice slur like. The nickname didn’t roll off his tongue like Paul’s did the other night, no, instead it came off forced and disoriented. Almost like the name was just a way to try and sweet talk you.

“Home.” You told him bluntly, taking slow but deliberant steps away from them.

An airy chuckle came from a different guy, “What a coincidence, so are we.”

“Please don’t follow me.” You said over your shoulder, picking up your pace when you realized that they were starting to follow you.

“Why not, you look like you could use the company.”

You didn’t give a response, instead kept your head forward, ignoring the calls that they continued to ring out. “C’mon, beautiful, this a way to treat a gentleman?”

An hand gripped your arm, yanking you back into the imbrace of a body. Two strong arms wrapped around your waist keeping you tightly in his hold. “I was fuckin’ talking to ya.” He told you, the smell of his intoxicated breath making you gag.

He pulled you closer to the fire, dragging your body as you kicked and refused to allow him to take you to their spot. The other guys had brutish smiles on their faces, finding the situation as a pleasant form of entertainment for them.

One of the men snatched your bag off your shoulders, tossing it near the bonfire as a couple dug through your possessions. “Let me fucking go!” You shouted, arms and legs kicking out at anyone who got close. Your sudden movements caused the guys grip on you to slip, your feet finally planting firmly on the ground.

You twisted out of the guys hold, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. And, out of a flurry of emotions, you raised your dominant arm, reeling it back before your fist connected with his nose. Hard.

A sharp crunch came from the man’s nose, and something warm and wet coated your knuckles as you pulled your fist back. The man let out a pained groan, his hands cupping his nose as blood dripped from between his fingers.

“God! Fuckin’! Dammit!” He shouted, words coming out choppy and rushed as he struggled to breath properly through his nostrils. “Look what you fucking did, you bitch!”

You bit your toungue, fighting off a smug smile. Now is really not the time to play around with these guys, but, you knew it felt good to punch him. The tiny bag of dicks deserved it. “I can see.” You told him taking a small step back from the supposed leader of the group. “And it looks like a shitty nose job, if you ask me.”

“You broke my fucking nose!” He was beyond pissed, anyone with an eye could see that. He pointed a finger at you, blood dripping from the tip. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

God, this guy has a nasty mouth on him. He gets punched one time and it’s all fucking this and fucking that. His mama needs to teach himself some manners.

You opened you mouth to tell him, ready to snatch your bag back and take off towards grandpas, when a reflective object caught your eye. Glancing over at the man’s hand you saw a knife clutched tightly in his right hand, his fist slightly shaking for how hard his grip was.

Holy shit.

He really is gonna kill you.

Turning swiftly on your foot, you tried to manuver out of the outstretched hands grabbing at you. Sprinting on the sand, you felt as the tiny rocks slowed you down. Everytime you pushed off, your foot slowly sank down into the beach’s bay.

Holy shit.

A hand gripped your hair, tight. Your scalp burning as you get yanked back and thrown down on the ground. A yelp slipped past your lips when your upper body hits the floor, the air vacating your lungs.

You tried to lift your body up, tried to run, tried to scream for help. But, there were suddenly hands everywhere, holding you down on your back, arms and legs pinned down as the man you’d punched leaned over you.

“You know,” he started, twisting his knife in his palm. “It’d be a real shame for me to fuck up your face, because, well, you sure do got a pretty one.” He trailed his hand over your face, blood trailing behind as he did so.

“Burn in fucking hell!” You shouted, putting as much strength as you could muster to try and shove off the ones holding you down.

A nasty sneer rested on his lips, “But such a shitty attitude, maybe I’ll cut off your tongue, you know, keep you quiet for once.”

The guy pinning down your left arm looked up at the man, slight concern bubbling across his features. “Hughie, yer not actually gonna cut ‘er, right-“

“Shut the hell up!” Hughie shouted at the man, knife pointed dangerously close to his face. “Just shut up.”

He turned back towards you, the knife dropping down to his side as glared down at you. “I ain’t gonna cut the bitch.”

You felt air enter your body, feeling slightly better about the situation now knowing he isn’t actually gonna use the knife. But, you still didn’t know what he was gonna do with you.

“No, well just take her shitty bag, and I want just a little pay back for the nose.” Hughie brought his index and thumb close together.

You watched with wide eyes as he walked around you, stopping at the top of your head, kicking just a little bit of sand in your face as he did so. “Fucking slut.” He muttered, before he raised his leg and the heel of his boot came down hard on your face.

David sat on top of his motorcycle, the kickstand holding him steady as he puffed on his cigarette. The sun had set about an hour ago, the night fresh and just starting. They had plenty of time to scope out the crowd and find their next meal.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Paul and Marko sweet talking a group of ladies. They’d be nice for a snack, David thought. The sent of their blood flooding his senses, but, they’d need just a little more to actually fill them up.

Dwayne leaned against the wooden railing, keeping a steady eye on those who wander too close to him and his brothers. Anyone that catches his eye would immediately steer themselves in a different direction.

The smell of your blood drifted around the group, drawing Paul and Marko away from the group of girls and back over to their brothers. Your blood was a lot stronger than usual tonight, they noticed. It was more out in the open than what they’d usually smell around you.

Paul was the first to notice you, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, babe.” He drawled, watching as you came into view of the group. “Where you been lately?”

Though you didn’t stop to acknowledge them, in fact you seemed to walk faster to try and past them. It was slightly uncharacteristic of you, no snarky comment or a roll of your eyes. To say they missed it was an understatement.

One by one, they each stepped away from their bikes, sauntering over to your fleeting form. The smell of your blood grew stronger and stronger the closer they got to you, the reminder that they need to eat picking at the back of their minds.

Marko reached you first, gently pulling at your arm to catch your attention. “Hey, beautiful, where you been all week?” Though, you shrugged off his hand, barley giving him a glance as you tried to push through the crowd.

He furrowed his brows, slightly confused at your demeanor. The first time you’ve met you’d snapped at him for trying to take a silly vinyl, and now you wouldn’t even spare him a second of your attention.

Even when they’d see you out on the boardwalk, you’d always glance up at them, meeting at least one of their eyes before scurrying in a different direction.

He quickly glanced at the others, silently asking them what to do.

David brushed by his brother, understanding him without either having to open their mouths. He took long purposeful strides, the sounds of the others following right behind floated up to his ears. In no time, David was at your side. Gloved fingers wrapping around your forearm, as he spun you around to face them.

A witty comment danced on the edge of his tongue, the sudden impulse to hear a snarky remark fall from your lips egged him on. Though, what he sa made his thoughts stand still.

Bruises were found all around your face. A few rested along your jawline and cheekbones, but, the biggest of them all was the one on your right eye. The skin slightly puffed around the eyeball, making it hard to see clearly from that side.

A dark red was slowly but steadily seeping from your bottom lip, the sticky liquid had had found its way to the collar of your shirt. The fabric had caused the blood to spread across the top.

That explains the smell of blood.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. Your breaths became labored, short intakes and outtakes, eyes darting past the four men to your surroundings.

David placed both hands on your face, the feeling of his gloved fingers against your skin oddly calmed you. You placed your own hands against his wrist gently trying to tug them away, though, his grip didn’t seem to loosen.

“Let me go.” You said in a hoarse voice, the sound of it made an odd feeling stir in the pit of the boys stomachs.

You hadn’t even realized that the rest of the boys had surrounded the two of you. Each eyeing the small marks that littered across your face with hidden emotion.

Paul had reached forward grasping your hand in his, eyes trailing across the hills of your knuckles. A faint coat of blood was slowly drying itself up, blood that wasn’t your own. The blonde gently showed your hand to the others, discreetly eyeing each of them, a silent conversation threading itself through the air.

A weak sniffle sounded from you, mindlessly dragging their thoughts back to the fact that you were here right infront of them. “Can I please just go home?” You asked, voice wavering with emotion.

One by one they each gave a chorus of, ‘of course’ or just a simple nod. Paul released your hand, not before wiping a small trail of blood onto the pad of his finger. Keeping the scent with them as you left.

David pulled his hands away from your face, the cold touch lingering on your warm skin. They watched as you pushed through the crowd, hand gently pressing against someone’s lower back as you pass by them. An eerie tick crawled its way to the back of David’s mind, something unsettling and terrifying.

And it didn’t seem to mix well with the need to feed.

David glanced over at Dwayne, giving him a quick nod. The brunette mirrored his brother, neither having to open they’re mouth before he distantly trailed after you. Getting lost in the crowd just as you had.

Now just the three blondes were left in the boardwalk. Paul was softly bouncing on his feet unpatiently awaiting for David’s orders. Marko stood beside his brothers, fingers twitching at the sudden need to sink his fists and fangs into someone.

The faint smell of the assholes blood filtered through their noses, a soft trail leading through the crowds. Without glancing back at the terror twins, David signaled towards the bikes. The three of them straddles their own Motorcycles, Dwayne’s would just have to stay at the boardwalk until they get back.

They revved their engines, the loud noise drawing attention of nearby locals. Though, tonight, the people’s attention was the last thing that they were trying to capture.

“Boys,” David spoke over the rumble of the bikes. “Let’s eat.”

A/a/n: Ok, so, if anyone of confused by the ending, the boys went out to basically kill the surfer nazis. And, Dwayne went to make sure you got home safe before joining his brothers. Also, I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, because I haven’t posted in like a week or something. But, let me tell you that this chapter has been 90% done the whole time. I was just lazy to finish the other 10%. But, let me know what you guys think ;)

@mrstargayen09

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Jake seresin drunk is the cutest annoying thing him and coyote leaning on eachother for support and walking home with his drunk ass is like a toddler running off to the beach "jake get back here your drunk " he trips and he all pouty " its okay lets get home your okay

"Guys- Come on!" You groan, Javy's hand still firmly clasped in your own while Jake slips out of your hold, "Jake, get back here!"

"I wanna swim," He insists, walking in a not-so-straight line down to the shore, "C'mon!"

"No- stay," You narrow your eyes at Javy, who's clutching you like a lifeline, "Don't move."

"Okay," He breathes, looking more than a little scared at your level of insistence, I promise."

You let his hand go, jogging down the sand just in time to stop Jake from getting into the water.

"Come with me, honey," You plead, tugging on Jake's large hand, "Don't you wanna get into some cozy pajamas and sleep in your big comfy bed?"

"But I wanna swim," He repeats, looking crestfallen at your compromise, "Please?"

"I'll show you my boobs if you come with me." You wager, feet planted firmly in the sand, "That's my final offer."

You know the way to Jake's heart. He's eager to leave now, taking your hand and dragging you back to Javy who's plopped down into the sand. True to his word, he hasn't gone anywhere without you, just down.

"Coyote!" Jake shouts, loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to hear, "She said she'll show me her boobs if I go with you guys!"

Javy's eyes widen, and he scrambles up into a standing position, voice and eyes both clouded by liquor, "Me- me too?"

"Uh," You flounder, "Sorry, no. I'll make you breakfast tomorrow, though, if you sleep on our couch?"

"Eggs aren't as good as boobs," Javy's shoulders slump, and Jake pats his back sympathetically.

"It's okay, man," Jake drawls, some of his southern twang escaping his liquor-fueled loose lips, "I'll show you my boobs."

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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katzuk1s · 1 year

Text

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18+ mdni

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thinking about giving inexperienced virgin! Bakugou head for the first time on his birthday

TW: oral (male receiving), swearing ofc, praise kink, fem!reader

3.0k words

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You and Katsuki had been in a relationship for a time now, about 2 months since his 'confession' (he shoved some flowers in your face and warned you to be his valentine or else) and yet you two had scarcely done anything together. Don't get me wrong, you spend every waking and sleeping minute with him; movie evenings, sleepovers, dates at anything challenge-based so he can show you how strong he is; but...you haven't done anything with him. Sexual, that is. Sure, you two have kissed, on the occasion his lips would move down to your neck, licking and marking a few small areas on your neck just to show you’re his in front of the class—but he's never gone further than that. You both haven’t, if we are being honest. You’ve both been too nervous, I guess? Or it's just never really been a priority on katsukis list—or that's what you thought.

You are both oblivious to what the other is thinking. Katsuki doesn’t notice how much you stare at him when he gets out of the shower, his towel hanging around his waist as your eyes drift down; and even if he does, he convinces himself that he’s getting ahead of himself—just seeing things. You don’t notice the constant glances katsuki sneaks at you when you are wearing his shirt, which is 10x bigger than you, hanging loosely down to your thighs which you wear as pajamas along with some shorts or just panties. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to have his 3rd shower of the day after he looks down to see the bulge in his pants—which 9/10 times leads to him covering his mouth with one hand as the other strokes himself as the water drips down his bare body, trying his hardest to keep the noise down so you don't suspect anything.

As katsukis birthday comes along, you do everything you can possibly do to make it the best birthday hes ever had. It’s his first birthday with you as his girlfriend, so you feel its your responsibility to treat him—not that you mind. You get him the perfect gifts—a black tshirt with his favorite band on it, some of his favorite cologne that hes nearly out of, a limited edition all might figure which you had to hide from izuku up into the day, you know that fucker would try to steal it if you left it out, and finally a basket of his favorite foods, and of course 3 bottles of sirachi sauce.

You prepare a complete bacon and egg breakfast for him and serve it to him in his room when you go out into the dorm kitchen to prepare it. He'd rather stay in his dorm than deal with the rest of the class this early in the morning.

For lunch, you get Aizawa to excuse you two so you can go to your favourite restaurant, where you treat Katsuki to whatever he wants on the menu despite his protests, saying he can pay for it—you don't let him, of course.

And finally, the surprise party. Katsuki hates parties, it’s pretty obvious from how many times he’s stomped out at the sight of one balloon; but the whole class wanted to celebrate, so you just went along with it—how much harm could it do? You could always have a quiet night after.

“You think he knows?” Denki whispered in the dark. You were all hidden down in your specified spots as you waited for katsukis return into the dorm lounge where everyone had set up streamers, balloons along with his favourite foods and a special cake made by sato.

“Nah, I’ve been distracting him all day, he will have no idea” you reply.

“Perfect” denki whispers back, a shit eating grin on his face as he holds a party popper in his hand, which you can only guess he will pop right in katsukis face. Rest in peace denki.

You are cut off as the door opens.

“The fuck? Why’re all the goddamn lights off huh?” You hear a raspy voice mumble from down the stairs. You have to stop yourself from chuckling as you cover your mouth to not make a sound.

“Got a power outage or something? Maybe nezu forgot to pay the fuckin’ power bills again” the same voice mumbles as you hear footsteps heading up the stairs, slowly until you hear a loud crashing and cursing.

“GOD DAMMIT, DUNCE FACE DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS? YOU WANNA WATCH ME STRUGGLE YOU BASTARD?!” Katsuki yells as he starts to trample up the stairs faster, until he gets to the top to see some faint balloons in the darkness.

“The fu-“

“SURPRISE!!” The whole class yells as momo turns the lights on, revealing everyone and the decorations. Katsukis eyes widen and he grumbles, turning around straight away.

“Hell no, i ain’t doing this shit-“

“Wait!! Could you please stay for a few minutes, it took us a long time to set this up? Please? I promise we can have a nice night together afterwards" you glance up at katsuki with your most dolly eyes—katsuki grumbles again and looks down, shuffling his feet across to the party, unable to resist your sweet tone and precious gaze.

“Fine. But i ain’t staying f’ long, got it?"

“Kacchan! "How are you doing, my bestest bro in the entire world?" Denki says as he drapes an arm around Katsuki, which is quickly swatted away.

"The fuck does it mean to you?" He mumbles as he pushes away and makes his way to the food.

As the night goes on, katsuki begins to moan and groan more to you, saying he can't bear being around these fuckers any longer and that he simply wants to sleep. You sympathise with him, but you also want to enjoy the time you have with the entire class, which happens on a very rare occasion without a big fight breaking out or a villain attacking. After the cake has been served and eaten, you all find yourselves sitting or lounging on the couch, the floor, or even the tables, joking with one another. You sit on the couch next to katsuki, your head on his lap, looking up into his eyes and casually responding to whatever conversation is going on.

“We should totally play truth or dare!” Mina suggests, her tone deathly sweet.

“Hell yeah! Let’s get this party started!” Sero and the other classmates agreed, katsukis eyes rolling at the suggestions.

“Don’t have time for your shitty games”

“Come on ‘suki! It will be fun! It’s late start tomorrow, we have time” you say, reaching up to gently caress his cheek before standing up and heading over to where everyone is sitting in a circle on the floor, patting the spot next to you for katsuki to sit.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” he mumbles under his breath before reluctantly sitting down next to you.

“You know, i'm still convinced you’ve put him under some sort of spell, I’ve never seen him so agreeable” izuku jokes, smiling widely as per usual.

“I'VE ALWAYS BEEN AGREEABLE YOU DAMN DEK- IZUKU” katsuki barks at izuku before huffing and leaning back.

“Yeah yeah, let’s get on with it, things are about to get in-ter-est-ing!” denki accentuates, smirking at katsuki. Has he planned something or..?

The game goes back and forth between truths and dares among everyone, until it finally lands on katsuki.

“Now, for the birthday boy! Truth or dare?” Denki asks, sneaking looks at the other classmates suggestively.

“Tch, dare obviously. I ain’t no pussy.” katsuki replies, sighing in boredom.

“I dare you…to show us your text messages between you and y/n!” Mina yells excitedly, leaning into katsuki.

“The fuck?! Why should I do that?!” He yells in surprise, backing away from Mina.

“Got something to hide? I thought you weren’t a pussy huh?” Denki says before snatching katsukis phone.

“GIVE THAT- I'M NOT NO PUSSY, GO AHEAD SHIT FACE”

The class crowds around denki as he scrolls through the messages, but to their dismay, all they saw was just messages asking about each other's day, good night messages, the occasional random photo, but.. that's it.

“Are you guys even together? Where’s the spicy stuff?” Sero whines, snatching the phone as he scrolls back further.

Before they can do any more, katsuki snatches his phone back and shoves it in his pocket.

“You ain’t gonna find any of that dumb shit, no point looking, idiots” he barks out before huffing and looking over at you, leaning in a little closer to calm himself down.

“So you’re telling me…there’s nothing. You guys are no fun!” Denki huffs before looking over at you.

“Mina, you wanna ask y/n now? I’ve had enough asking”

“Yeah! I have a few ideas…y/n, truth or dare?”

“Umm…truth!” You say enthusiastically, leaning over and resting your head on katsukis shoulder as you look over at Mina.

“Have you guys done it?” She says in a low tone, making sure any teachers crossing by wouldnt be able to hear her.

Both you and katsuki tense up before heat rises to both of your cheeks. A long line of silence comes before mineta pops out of nowhere and leans in close to you.

“Yeah! Have you guys done it yet? What was she like bakugou? Was she-“ mineta was cut off by katsuki picking him up and throwing him over to the other couch far away from them before he could say anymore.

“Well? Have you?” Sero pipes up and you look over at Katsuki before slowly shaking your head.

“O-of course we haven’t-! We have only been together for two months i-“

“YOU STILL HAVEN’T AFTER TWO MONTHS?” Denkis eyes look like they have popped out of his head as he switches his gaze between the two of you.

Katsuki stays quiet as he looks away, his face dusting a light shade of pink.

“ I have an even better question!!” hagakure pipes in.

“Do any of you want to? Like have you thought about it?”

“Ooo, good question! So, have you?” Mina asks, buzzing with excitement.

“W-well..i..i-i” you stutter, face flushing with heat as you look over at katsuki to see his face even more red, which makes you even more flustered.

“I-its only fuckin’ natural, what, do you expect us to not think of this k-kinda shit or something? Idiots..” katsuki mumbles under his breath, his voice quivering slightly. Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession. He’s thought about you like that? You would never have expected..unless you were just so oblivious you never noticed…

“So you have!! Ha! I knew it! You do have a heart down there kacchan!” Denki jokes, the rest of the class chuckling along with him, causing Bakugou to huff before standing up, grumbling as he walks away back to his dorm.

“Well.. I guess he’s a bit tired, i’m gonna head off to sleep too. Thanks for helping me set up the party guys! I'll see you in class tomorrow.” You say with a smile, your face still pink as you slink off to katsukis dorm, following him in.

You get dressed into one of his shirts along with your panties before heading into his bed, taking in his scent on his pillows. He comes out a little after you, dressed in a black tank top and some black sleeping pants before laying down in bed next to you.

“Well that was fuckin’ tiring. It’s already 12:38 in the morning..way past my bedtime.” He mumbles the last sentence under his breath, his voice trailing off.

You snuggle into him, your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and your arm slinked across his waist, his toned abs prominent under the material.

You both lay there for a while in silence, enjoying each other's presence. But that one conversation between denki and katsuki is still on repeat in your mind. Does katsuki really think about you like that? Does he want more? Does he..like thinking about me like that?…

Your thoughts eventually become unbearable and before you can think it through, a question slips out.

“Is what you said to denki true?..do..you think about me like that?” You mumble under your breath, half hoping that katsuki was already asleep and not hearing you talk—but unknown to you, katsuki was going through the exact same conversation; the way your face turned a bright red as soon as denki brought it up, your cute little stuttering as you tried to find the right answer.

“…yeah…don’t…you?” He says quietly, avoiding your gaze.

You hesitate before answering.

“ yeah..I’ve..I’ve been thinking about it for a while..”

“You have?” Katsuki answers, his voice laced with surprise. Yeah, he can’t help feeling those emotions towards you, but the fact that you felt those too? Fuck, it was too much for him.

You simply nod, staying silent.

“What…what do you think about?” He asks, playing with your hair with his fingers trying anything to distract himself from the conversation.

Your face heats up and you nuzzle your face even more into his neck.

“W-well..i..i think about you..doing certain things with me..” you whisper timidly, looking down.

Katsukis breath hitches. Such a simple, innocent sentence can even knock him down just like that. He feels his pants tightening slightly and he huffs.

“I..think about..what i wanna do to you..” he says, his voice quivering slightly.

“Y-you ever..touch..yourself while you think about that?”

Katsuki can feel his bulge painfully tugging against the material of his pants at this point, his breath uneasy.

“Y-yeah..” he stutters. “You?”

You nod again in reply, your whole body quivering slightly from anticipation.

You reach over, taking your hand away from his waist when it brushes over his bulge and he gasps quietly.

“Are you..hard..’suki?”

You reach down again and brush your fingertips over his clothes bulge again and he bucks his hips up, desperate for your touch.

“D-don't..fuckin’ tease me..” he manages to stutter out, trying to calm himself.

You look into his eyes lovingly before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Do..you want me to..um..suck you off?” You suggest, your voice trailing off as you look away, unable to meet katsukis piercing gaze.

Katsukis mind swirls as he hears you suggest that, and he nods quickly.

“If you are ready for that..then fuck yeah..”

You take no time to lean down and kiss him gently, but before long the kiss starts to heat up, katsukis tongue swirling around yours as you fiddle to lift off his singlet. Once it’s off you take a moment to take in the sight in front of you. Katsuki, there in front of you laying down, puffing as his bare chest rises and falls. You duck down and bring your tongue down to his neck, placing gentle kisses and marks here and there, before trailing your lips down to his nipples, swirling your tongue around them. As you do this, katsuki quickly brings his hand to your head, his hand gripping your hair firmly as he pants.

“Mmphh…fuck..”

He groans, tilting his head back on his pillow.

“Can i..?” You ask sweetly, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He quickly nods, bringing his head back up so he can see your every move, taking a point to remember this moment.

You tug down his pants, revealing the fact that he has no boxers or underwear underneath, his shaft springing free. Your breath hitches at the sight. How is that gonna fit in you one day? Sure you have tried your fingers but that? That’s like your whole hand!

Katsuki notices your wide eyes and hesitation and he smirks confidently.

“Something on your mind?” He says suggestively, looking down at you with half lidded eyes.

“You are so fucking hot..”

“I know, idio- h-hah!” Katsuki gets cut off by the feeling of your warm tongue on his tip, swirling around and licking off any extra pre-cum. He throws his head back, with one hand gripping your hair tightly and the other covering his mouth as he groans.

“can..can you take your hand away? I wanna hear you..” you ask timidly before starting to take his tip into your mouth.

“F-fuckin’ fine..if anyone hears us im blaming it on you- hnngh!” He groans as you start to take more of him into your mouth, struggling to fit it all in. As you stop halfway down on his shaft, katsuki starts to softly thrust his hips up into your mouth shallowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way, but at the same time get the pleasure he needs. You moan into his cock , sending vibrations down his length, causing him to audibly moan.

“S-so..warm..tight..so much better than my hand..” he pants, tilting his head down again so he can look at you, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“You alright? Tap..my leg if you need a break..youre doing so..m-mmph! So good f’ me..” he praises, thrusting deeper and deeper down your throat each time. It’s uncomfortable, but not so bad you can’t bear it. Man, you are so turned on you can barely even notice any discomfort anymore.

Katsukis grip on your hair gets tighter and he starts to thrust quicker and more sloppily.

“‘M c-close..fuck im so close..you wanna..f-fuck! You wanna pull off?” He asks between pants, looking into your eyes reassuringly.

You keep going, this time bobbing your head up and down to indicate that he can cum inside. His breathing becomes faster and his moans become louder as he does one final thrust, shoving himself down your throat as warm liquid pours out.

You pull away and cough slightly before swallowing, taking every last drop of what he gave you. As you look up at him, you take a mental picture of what you see. There he is again, His head thrown back, hand covering his mouth as sweat soaks his toned bare torso and arms. This was something you could get used to.

He looks down at you after catching his breath, you pulling up his pants again and helping him get on his singlet before nuzzling up into him once again, feeling his chest rising and falling against your cheek.

“best fuckin’ birthday ever”

#bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x y/n #bnha smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #oneshot #bakugo smut

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xxnghtclls · 7 months

Text

Flickering Lights

Chapter 2: A Tall, Pink Haired Man

Chapter (1/3)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

For tags and synopsis, please see Chapter 1!

Bam!

You slam the door shut behind you. Finally you’re home in your small apartment, still thinking about what happened in your office. Sitting down on one of your two chairs, you absentmindedly tap with your key into the surface of your kitchen table.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Who was that?” you mumble to yourself, while your leg is wiggling nervously. “Where and… why? Four eyes and four arms, too?”

A pause.

Tap. Tap.

“HOW?” you blurt out loudly and distort your face in confusion. Your brain is so tired.

Shaking your head, you decide to get up and get a hot shower.

-Monday me- is going to have a huge problem, leaving the office like this.

“This” meaning a broken window, a crack in the floor and the wall. Your computer is for the trashcan, too. A fucking mess.

Motherfucker.

You kind of hope it was a dream, a hallucination or a lightning. Monday you will get back to your same old habit, going to work and writing emails, lists and calculations. And then Tuesday. And then Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

Sigh.

Rashhhhh

You close the shower curtain in front of your face and turn on the water. Warm steamy drops are tickling your face and calming your nerves. Sleepiness washes over you with the steamy warmth and you’re quick to finish soaping you up. You let out a big yawn, as you turn off the water and step out.

“Time for bed.” you sigh, before you brush your teeth and dry yourself. Taking your phone with you, you carry yourself up the ladder to your elevated sleeping space. The perks of living in tokyo.

Mini studio apartments.

Crawling onto the futon, you pull the blanket up to your nose. A last time you peek onto your phone, before your eyes shut themselves.

- 01:38 a.m. -

“Goodnight...” you mumble, before you fall asleep. “Stranger.”

♫ Up with the sun, gone with the wind, she always said I was lazy-

“The fuck?” you breathe into the darkness, still half asleep, as you peek onto your phone, trying not to get blind from your display brightness.

- 6:00 a.m. -

“Ughhh shut up, Bob.” you groan, as you shut your alarm off. You must have forgotten to adjust the settings in your alarm to workweek only, after you had to get up for an out of schedule meeting last saturday.

But, today is free.

You close your eyes and think about what you want to do today.

Get new earphones perhaps. Get groceries. Find out who…who…

Zzzzz…

After a moment, you send another peek to your phone.

- 10:12 a.m. -

“Good morning sunshine.” you grumble to your sleepy self, before you yawn and stretch. “Sorry Bob, now you can sing.” you mumble and put on Bob Seger’s song that ripped you out of sleep earlier.

-play-

“Travelin maan, love when I caan. Turn loose my hand ‘cause I’m goiingg.” you sing, as you’re making yourself some eggs for breakfast, checking your social media inbetween. You roll your eyes, as you read that there’s some unnecessary discourse over something unimportant AGAIN and you swear to yourself, that you’re going to delete that app sooner or later. It just makes you angry.

Fucking idiots.

Your eggs are ready and you sit down, take a bite and text your bestie Mio.

Oy. Akiba in 45 mins?

👍

Good. Need new headphones. Mine broke last night.

No wonder. Get some real ones.

You huff at her text.

“No way.” you smile, as you’re putting your phone away and shove the last bite of eggs into your mouth. You need to get dressed quickly, in order to catch the next train to Akihabara.

On your trainride, you stare out of the window across from you. Listen to the railway and see the houses passing by, the sun shining onto the roofs, before the train goes underground again. Silhouettes and moving lights run along the window.

Moving lights. Flickering lights.

And suddenly you remember last night.

What happened?

That creature, that… man.

How unusual he looked and how his eyes pierced through your soul.

Uncanny.

You wonder if you should tell Mio about it.

Maybe not…

Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination or a lightning after all.

…That rip in space definitely.

But what if he was not?

“Excuse me, is everything alright?” an elderly woman that’s sitting right next to you asks you.

You must’ve zoned out, looking so concentrated… maybe even, as if you’re constipated or something.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry- I mean, thank you.” you force a smile at her, before you pull out your phone to look busy at least.

And you start to scroll on your socials.

And scroll.

Not thinking anything, just remembering that man’s face. Those tattoos. The nose.

Kinda pretty nose, you think as your lips turn into a pout.

Two slits in his eyebrows.

That mask.

So interesti-

Wait what?

Interesting…?

Sigh.

…He is.

You get out at Suehirocho Station and walk to the next 7-eleven, the point where you’re going to meet with Mio. She’s not there yet, so you decide to walk in and buy an Onigiri.

Only one?

No, two.

For later.

Of course you open the first one immediately and bite into it. The first bite is always the best.

Goddamn.

You love it. Closing your eyes, to savour the taste, you stand in front of the store, enjoying the bliss.

“Oy, peanut!” Mio’s voice comes up behind you. You turn around and nudge your head to her, shooting her a look.

“What’s up?” you say with your mouth full.

“Got one for me, too?” she eyes your Onigiri.

“No.” you bite into it another time.

She cocks her eyebrows at you, probably already knowing that you bought two and that you don’t want to share, before a little pout cracks upon her lips.

“Get your own!” you complain, before she pokes her finger into your arm.

“I’ll get you some snacks later!” she coos.

“Fine!” complain and offer her a bite of your last piece.

“Mwuah hah hah!” she laughs deeply in excitement, before she gulps down the whole remaining Onigiri. “I know you love me.”

“Ehhh.” you sigh, letting your shoulders sink, disappointed that she ate it all.

“Sorry.” she brushes off her hands on her jacket. “Anyway, let’s go, my greedy little peanut.” she says, before she hooks her arm into yours. “Did you cut your hair?”

You laugh her question off, as you both start to walk into the city.

While on the search for new 5000 yen headphones, you both keep bullying each other lovingly, laugh and talk about the week. No matter how exhausting your workweek is, she always manages to distract your mind, makes you feel not as lonely. She really is the light of your week.

You don’t really know how it came to this. To feel like this in this city of millions. You used to go out, to dance and fuck a guy every now and then. But maybe it was just the start of how you feel now. The nights of clubbing grew rare, the nights at the computer and phone listening to music grew more frequent. Because nothing could really satisfy it. This hole in your heart. Listening to music helps. Spending time with Mio helps, but only to a degree. Because you wish for a change in your life. More than work and eat and shower and sleep. More than everyday life.

However, you decide not to tell her about what happened last night. Maybe you’ve gone crazy after all. Even if you’re not, you still feel odd about it. Feel, like it might be the change you yearned for, an adventure.

Feel like it only belongs to you.

Quickly you find some new headphones and earn a mocking joke from the side, while Mio continues to buy herself a new phone case. Huge, pink and with little glittery stones and charms.

So ugly.

“Don’t look at me like that, when you’re the one who walked around with a Hello Kitty phone for the longest time!” she complains.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken for a disco ball.” you sneer at her.

You walk to another store to get your promised snacks and after a while, when the hottest gossip is done being discussed, you catch yourself getting silent inbetween.

Because your mind wanders off.

Because you remember.

Those eyes.

Dangerous.

Sometimes she notices and throws you a glance, but you just wave it off, excuse it with sleepless nights because of work.

And she buys it.

At least you hope she does.

“I need to get home.“ you sigh, as you arrive at the next train-station. “I still need to get some groceries. I’m gonna gonna see you next week?”

She sighs too and stops in her tracks. You turn and look to her, seeing her face turning serious. Suddenly the energy shifts. You halt and frown at her in confusion.

Something’s wrong.

“What?” you ask.

“I need to tell you something.” she looks to the ground and it makes you worried.

“What is it?” you poke her shoulder.

She hesitates.

“You’re gonna hate it…” she mumbles and your heart starts pounding. You hate situations like this. Last time she acted like this, she told you she lost the one pair of very expensive headphones you bought in your life. You hated her for it, but you learned your lesson.

Crossing your arms, you keep staring at her, almost holding your breath, trying to remember what kind of item you possibly could’ve lent her recently.

A pause.

“I’ll be on a work trip.-”

“Jesus.” you complain, as you exhale loudly in relief, rolling your eyes.

“For the next week.” she continues, a smug smirk on her face. So proud, knowing to have you fooled so good. “Coming back on Sunday night.”

You sigh.

“I’ll manage!” you exclaim snobbish into her face, but deep down, you know it’s gonna be hard. You’re not gonna see her for two weeks and you’re gonna miss her. A lot. Next to the fact that you can’t meet up with her next weekend, she’ll be busy too and not be able to text you much during the week either.

She punches your shoulder, before you grab her sleeve.

“Come.” you tug on it. “We gotta wish you a safe travel and return.” you mumble, as you drag her with you.

“Huh?” she exclaims, but gives up and willingly walks down to the underground with you.

“I didn’t go to the Meiji shrine in a while. Let’s hang up an Ema there.” you fiddle with her sleeve, as you’re both sitting next to each other in the train towards Yoyogi Station.

“Is everything alright?” she asks and you notice real concern in her voice.

She knows something’s up.

“I think I need to go out more, Mio.” you mumble. “If you’re not here to cheer me up, I need to see someone else then.”

“Sounds as if you’re already have someone in mind.” she jokes and you feel the heat rising in your ears, feel caught.

“Yeah.” you fake-laugh, before you try to change the topic. “Where are you going next week?”

“We’re going to have some meetings in Gifu. But also team-building events, this sort of stuff.” she says, while fiddling with her new phone case and you nod.

“Never went there.” you respond. “Tell me if it’s nice, yes?”

“Sure, little peanut.” she smiles, before she looks back at you. You smile back before, looking around in the wagon.

“Maybe you should go out while I’m gone.” she says, making you look back at her. “Try to focus less on work and have some fun. Treat yourself.” she punches you in your arm again.

Hard.

“Ow!”

“It’s just work after all.”

“I shall.” you hiss, while you rub your hand over the soon-to-be bruise, as the train stops at Harajuku-Station.

After a short walk, Mio and you arrive at the entrance of the shrine. It’s busy, just like the last time you visited, but as soon as you walk through the Torii, it grows calmer with each second. You might not believe, that in you’re a city of millions, when you walk through the beautiful area around the shrine. Trees and plants seal yourself off the loud noises of the streets.

Quiet.

Maybe I need a vacation.

“I’m thirsty.” Mio longingly says, as you walk past the huge Sake barrels.

You snort at her comment.

“Mio Mio Mioooo.” you squeak like a bird. “You called me greedy.”

“That’s what you are.” she chimes. “I know you still have that second Onigiri in your jacket.”

“Shut your mouth.” you smile, while you look up to see the sunlight shine through the branches of the trees, as a gentle breeze flows against your faces. It’s beautiful at this place, but somehow, a weird feeling grows in your gut.

After a ten minute walk along the shrines nature, you arrive at the camphor trees where the Emas are hanged upon. Mio steps forward, reading some of the wishes that are already hung up. After purchasing a little wooden plate yourself, you tipple to the desks and start writing.

For my lovely Mio.

Please let her have the safest travel, a lot of fun and a more safer return to her little peanut.

You draw a little raccoon in the corner, since that’s her favourite animal and turn around, ready to hang it up, only to notice, that Mio holds a little wooden plate in her own hand as well.

“No! I already got one!” you wiggle it into her direction, before you hang it up.

She steps into the corner of your eyes, hanging her own plate right next to yours. You’re about to complain that she bought an unnecessary one, as your eyes catch what she wrote.

For my lovely y/n.

Please let her have the most fun, good food and a little adventure, until her Mio returns.

“Is this for me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Bro, it’s your name right there!” she sneers as if you’re stupid, tapping her knuckle loudly against the plate.

Your heart warms up, before you continue in a serious voice.

“You forgot to draw a cat.”

“I cannot draw a cat.”

“Bullshit. Everyone can draw a cat.” you wave her off and turn around, only to see-

Oh shit.

You freeze in your spot, as you see that tall man from last night standing in front of the holy praying area of the shrine. His back is turned to you, but his height, his black cloak and the pink spiky hair is proof enough.

A sinister energy reaches your feet and crawls up your legs.

“What’s up?” Mio asks, as she notices how you froze in your spot, tugging at your sleeve.

Your heart starts pounding.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Mio catching focus on that man herself.

“I’ve never seen a guy that tall-“

“Me neither.” you mumble, while you keep staring. In the corners of your eye, you see many people walking around the mean, peeking and staring and mumbling about his unusual appearance.

He walks up the stairs, shoving a middle aged woman out of his way. She tipples, looses balance and-

Bam!

falls down the stairs, while he’s stepping closer to the doors that lead to the praying area. The huge doors, that now don’t seem to tall in comparison anymore.

“Disrespectful asshole!” Mio exclaims in disgust, as an appalled gasp is heard from the by-standing people and the feeling in your gut grows into a huge lump. Others rush to the woman to help her back up, and Mio wants to go forward too, but you grab her sleeve, holding her back. You stay silent, as you keep watching the man intensely, seeing him lay his right hand on the wooden surface of the saisen-bako that’s placed inbetween the doors. People start to talk to him, try to get his attention, but he is ignoring them, concentrated on doing what he came to do.

Your eyes are fixated on his hand, a tattooed black ring decorating his wrist. The people around him grow louder and louder, but the sound grows mute in your ears. Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you watch how the wooden surface starts to vibrate, the lines between his hand and the wood start to blur. A deep humming starts to vibrate in your ear, just like last night.

Mio notices your trance and calls you, but you hear without hearing.

Whatever he’s doing, it has you in his grip.

Mio calls you again, louder and snips her fingers in front of your face to wake you from your trance but you keep being fixated on his hand until-

“Hey!” another man loudly exclaims and tugs on his cloak to get his attention. Without even looking, the pink haired man flicks his left hand and suddenly the throat of the other man bursts with blood and his head falls from his shoulders.

Fwip!

Pap.. Pap… pap.

Down the stairs it falls and rolls. Your heart drops and everyone starts to scream, as your eyes widen in horror. Blood splatters everywhere, as the head rolls and comes to a halt next to the woman, coating the holy grounds with red essence.

“Y/N!!” Mio calls your name again, now very loud and clear, making your body finally start moving.

You meet Mio’s eyes and grab her wrist, before you run towards the entrance, already seeing security guards run into the opposite direction. Other people run in panic as well, shoving you out of their way, almost make you stumble. For some reason, shortly before you can run through the huge gate, you need to turn around.

Turn around.

The time slows down.

Exhale.

You look.

Focus.

And he turns around, too. Making your eyes meet his for the split of a second, before you turn back forward again, running through the gate.

Inhale.

Sirens are already howling in the distance, as Mio and you and many other people run through the shrine grounds in order to get back to the entrance you came from. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your throat is as dry as sand, as you finally reach the streets. A glance to Mio and a nod from her confirm that you will not separate your ways right now. She’ll come with you.

Bam!

Zschk Zing!

You lock your front door behind you, as Mio sighs loudly, slumping down on one of your kitchen chairs.

“Jesus.” you sigh under your breath, your hands still lingering on the door-lock, your eyes staring into nothing. The image of that mans head rolling down those stairs keeps replaying in your head.

“Gonna make tea.” Mio says, before she gets up and fills the cattle.

You blink and shake your head, before you turn around and sit down on the other chair on the adjacent corner of the table.

You have seen some bad stuff on the internet before. Multiple times unfortunately. However it’s still different to see such things in real life.

“The police will get him right?” she asks.

“Maybe they shot him on sight.” you mumble. “Most probably.” you try to assure her and yourself.

She hums and the kettle starts to whistle.

Louder and louder.

Until Mio takes it from the stove and fills your cups with water.

You take a sip and the warmth flows through your body, making you feel better in an instant.

“I still got no groceries.” you mumble into your cup.

“Let’s just wait a bit. It’ll be safe in a few hours.” she mumbles into hers.

A pause.

And you ponder.

“He wouldn’t have slashed that man, if he let him do his thing in peace.” you sip absentmindedly. “Whatever he was doing.” you add and she glances over to you, cocking an eyebrow.

“If he didn’t shove that woman down the stairs, he wouldn’t have been bothered.” she responds annoyed. “Nothing he was doing can justify this.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Doesn’t matter now, they probably shot him.” she sighs.

Your eyebrows twitch at the thought. Somehow, you don’t feel like it’s true.

A few silent hours go by, sipping tea, trying to calm down. Both of you avoid to read the news, try to distract you from what just happened, talk about anything, except about what happened at the shrine today.

And somehow, it works. They probably shot him after all.

The sun sets and it grows dark outside. Mio taps on her phone.

- 10:13 p.m. -

“I think I should go now.” she sighs. “Gotta get up early tomorrow.”

You inhale deeply, knowing it’s the last time you’re gonna see her for at least two weeks.

“Alright.” you exhale, as you stand up and walk her to your door. “Text me when you’re at the station, k?”

“Sure, peanut. The police is probably still roaming around. And if not they got him.” she smiles at you and leans in for a tight hug. “Gonna miss you.” she whispers in your ear and it almost makes you tear up.

What today happened was a lot for you and now you have to deal with it alone, if the distraction looses its effect. For two whole weeks.

“Gonna miss you, too!” you sniff into her ear and press her against you, before you separate.

“Stop crying, bitch.” she jokes and boops your nose.

You stick out your tongue and with wet eyes, you unlock your front door.

“Here you go, your Majesty. Please return safely.” you bow, trying to overact your upcoming crying-session and it makes her giggle.

“It’ll be fine.” she waves you off and walks down the hallway. “I’m a big girl.”

“Text me!” you yell after her, before you close and lock up the door.

Zschk Zing!

Silence.

Too silent.

You grab your back and pull out the new headphones you bought. In all the hectic you forgot to properly charge them, but luckily, they always are charged halfway up when you buy them.

You sit down on your kitchen chair and go to your phone’s settings, to connect it via bluetooth with your headphones.

It worked.

You put them on and scroll through your music library, not sure what will give you the right mood for now. If you want more distraction or if you want to cry. Already feeling an empty feeling spreading in your heart, you scroll and scroll and your eyes keep watering.

Maybe crying it is.

Mio didn’t text yet and you hope she’s about to arrive safely at the station. It’s just a short walk anyway. You keep scrolling. Being a person who listens to almost everything, it’s difficult to choose sometimes. Closing your eyes, you tap on shuffle, letting fate decide what song to play.

But right in the moment, when the song is about to start, a loud knocking is heard on your door.

Knock.

You quickly look to the door.

Mio?

Maybe she forgot something.

Without turning off the music, you put your headphones on the table and tipple to the front door.

“Mio, is that you?” you call.

No answer.

You frown in suspicion, before looking through the peephole.

And your heart drops into your socks, as you see a deformed fish-eye version of a stranger.

A tall, pink haired man.

#flickering lights #flickering lights chapters #sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #fanfiction

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

What Did You Say?

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,406

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Norm was speechless. That alone was highly unusual for him as he did not get speechless, simply he did not voice every thought that pops into his head. But here he sat, without a thought to voice, and a mouth with which to do it. He did not process the fact that his wife was slowly loosing her smile, and instead of excitedly bouncing, she was shifting nervously.

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” She asked, concerned for her husband’s wellbeing. In the entire time that they had been married, or even had known each other, she had never known him to be this paralyzed.

“Are you sure?” Sure, it was not the best thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to him.

“Of course I’m sure. The doctor checked me a couple days ago,” she moved to hold his hands. “Norm, we’re having a baby.” While she held out hope that at some point he would get excited with her, that hope was draining by the second.

“And it’s mine?” Again, it was not the best thing to come out of his mouth because her look turned sour really quick.

“Are you accusing me of something, Norman?” Her voice was no longer sweet; this was a dangerous growl.

“No, no. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m just- we’re having a baby?” He was still not on the same plane of existence as her.

“Yes, Norm. We’re having a baby. I thought you’d be excited, or joyful, or even able to crack a darn smile. What is going on with you?” She was starting to tip over into yelling and their vault doors could only do so much sound proofing.

“No I’m- I mean, yes I… just,” he stammered, “I’m just not sure this is the best time.” He murmured, and began to fiddle with his hands.

“Well, it’s apparently a perfect time according to our bodies. Ever heard the expression, ‘it takes two to tango’? I didn’t make a baby by myself.” It felt like such an obvious observation, and yet, she felt like she was trying to talk to a child.

“I know that, I’m just. I’m not sure I’m fit to be a dad. I’m just gonna-” and he took off. Opening their door, Norm left their little humble home to go off to who knows where. Slouching to the floor, she held her stomach and cried. Sure people got scared to be parents but they did not run out on their pregnant wives while doing so? Thoughts ran wild in her head with Norm gone. Would she end up being a single mother? She knew that divorce was a thing but no one in the last two hundred years had one in the vaults. If someone was a single parent, it was because one parent had died.

Her sobs continued well into the night. Even when dinner time came, she ate alone; staring at the empty seat but a full plate where Norm would sit. She went on with her nightly routine as if nothing was wrong, as if half of her world was not missing. The bed felt too big now without her husband. As she lay in bed, she could not help but to let the tears come once again. She cried herself to sleep without even realizing it, and was only awoken by the morning bell. Her husband’s side was still together, even if she had taken his pillow to provide some comfort for herself.

She went about her breakfast routine, but was quickly sent to vomit when she smelled the eggs and bacon she had prepared. Coming out, nothing looked amiss, and she set about making toast. Toast would be safe to eat.

An executive decision was made for her, by her, to stay in for the day. She could afford a day off with the evening she had. A lot of her time was spent reading, or staring at the door. As much as she did not like him right now, she still loved her husband and wanted him by her side. The notification came through her pip-boy from the doctor about her ultrasound appointment today. It almost felt bittersweet. On one hand, she did not feel like inviting Norm to the appointment with how he was acting. But on the other hand,he was still her husband and the father of her child. He deserved the choice at least.

The forwarded message came across the gear that was on Norm’s arm, and he was shocked. After he ran away last night like a coward, he did not expect this from his wife. Norm saved the appointment onto his pip-boy for later use and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You alright, son?” Hank asked of his boy, bringing over two mugs. The one with tea was set in front of the younger MacLean, while his dad drank his allotted amount of coffee.

“Just grappling my thoughts. She sent me a notification of a doctor’s appointment this evening, but I don’t even know if she really wants me there.” Norm admitted, fiddling with his hands underneath the table.

“If I remember one thing about your mother, is that during both of her pregnancies, her hormones made her a ball of emotions. You could say the grass was green and she would burst out crying.” Hank chuckled, and took another sip while his son just sat there.

“There was a time where she was so angry with me that I didn’t like the name that she picked for her top name for you, that I was kicked to the couch for two days.” This made Norm perk up.

“So what did you do? How did you fix things with her?” He asked, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I went with her to your final ultrasound. Didn’t hold her hand or anything, but once we say you fully formed, she reached for my hand and said, ‘Norman, that’s what we’ll call him.’” His dad chuckled as he finished the story, and gained a sad look in his eyes.

“So what should I do?” Norm asked, finally taking a sip of his tea.

“If it were me, I’d go to the appointment. No matter how mad she is now, she’ll be worse if you miss that.” A timer dinged and as they looked for the source of the sound, they realized it was Norm’s pip-boy. Hs reminder for the appointment came up and he dashed out of the door without another word. Norm walked briskly to the doctor’s office, and tried not to run; no matter how much he wanted to.

By the time he got there, he saw her head dip into a room, that he somehow managed to catch. Norm saw her unzipping her vault suit, and rolling up her white shirt when he opened the door. He let out a breath that he did not realize he was holding and came over to help her.

“You came.” She stated, resting her hands on his face.

“I came.” He repeated, holding her body close to his in a crushing hug.

“I’m ready to be a dad.” Norm whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. It made her heart swell to hear those six little words come from his lips. The couple pulled away right as the doctor came in.

“Oh, hello Norm. Here to see the missus and the kiddo?” She spoke jovially, setting down her equipment to get started. Rubbing the cold gel on the mom-to-be’s belly, she held the wand against it to start looking inside. norm remained silent as he stared at the screen with a little black and white mage starting to emerge.

“There they are. That’s their leg, and arm. The beginnings of their head and organs and, oh wait. There’s their head. No, wait.” The doctor spent a minute looking intensely at the screen which freak the MacLean’s out just a little bit.

“Oh, okay. Not to worry.” She spoke finally.

“Why? What’s going on?” Mrs. Maclean was confused and concerned as she tried to sit up, only to be held down gently by her doctor.

“No, everything is okay. There are two heads. You’re having twins. Congratulations.” Once more, she held a happy tone as she went back to the screen. Yet again, Norm spoke without thinking it through.

“What did you say?”

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #norm maclean imagine #norman maclean x reader #norm maclean x reader #norman maclean x oc #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean

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kiwicopia · 5 months

Note

Can we please have Megumi with a reader who just got cheated on? Maybe he's had a crush on her for a long time? 🫶🏿

Megumi x Fem!Reader

TW: mentions of cheating, childhood crush, fluffy ending.

He wanted to wring your ex's neck for what he did to you, but he knew better to waste time on trash. Beating someone up wasn't what you needed at the moment. What you needed was a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to your ranting, and Megumi would certainly be the one to provide all of that.

Still, even as you kept ranting about your ex and catching him in the act, it just made Megumi want to hurt him that much more, yet he fought the urge. Instead, he slid an arm around you and pulled you closer against his side. "You don't need him, anyway," he told you. The man held back a scoff when you mentioned not being able to find someone better. "You will. Anyone is better than that guy. We both know that."

Truth be told, Megumi never liked your ex. Why would he? Not only did he cheat on you, but the guy always made you cry. How could he ever like anyone that made his best friend cry? His blood boiled at the thought as his jaw clenched slightly, though he quickly calmed himself. "I want to egg his car," you mumbled.

Megumi's lips curled into a small smile. "Egg his car? I think we could do better than that. We could fill it with bees," he suggested. You giggle but immediately shook your head. "It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt. He deserves it, you know."

"Yeah, but then he'd know who put the bees in his car."

"Not if you have an alibi," Megumi said. He was hellbent on doing something to your ex, but he knew you had to agree on the idea. "Could always use the jolly rancher method instead."

You chuckled and shook your head at the idea. "I feel like that would go horribly wrong for some reason."

"Oh, it will, for him," Megumi replied. You chuckled again, the sound pleasing to his ears. He missed hearing it. While you tossed out different ideas on how to get back at your cheating ex, he simply watched you, admiring you.

He had always felt wrong about loving you like he did, but he couldn't help it. Megumi had feelings for you, which anyone with eyes could see, but he always kept them buried down inside. Especially when you got a boyfriend. It was much harder keeping his feeling at bay then, but now that your ex was gone, he could let them out a little.

"What do you think, Megs?" You asked, your voice pulling him from his thoughts. "Good idea, right?"

He hadn't heard a single word you said, having lost himself in his own little thoughts about you, but he nodded. "Yeah, it's a good idea." His heart fluttered a little when you grinned and hugged his side, which only caused him to tighten his arm around you. "I love you," he whispered.

Megumi didn't mean to let it slip, but the moment was too good and pure to not let that thought loose. "You what?" You questioned.

"I love you," he repeated. Since the cat was out of the bag, Megumi felt just a little more confident with his confession. "I always have." His words were met by silence, and only then did he start to panic a little. What if he messed up? What if you didn't feel the same? What if you hated him for saying that?

"I love you, too, Megs," you smiled. Your words reassured him, and he mimicked your smile, only smaller. "I guess I've been denying it all these years."

Megumi hummed softly in response and nodded. "Well, you don't have to anymore." Maybe it was wrong since you were in such a vulnerable state, but he couldn't hold his feelings in long enough. Not while he had you in his arms like this. "I know I should've waited until you were better to tell, but it just slipped out."

"It's fine," you told him, burying your face into his side a little. His eyes softened and he let his fingers trace small circles against your arm. "I know you'd never hurt me."

That was the biggest difference between him and your ex. Your ex could cheat on you and make you cry without batting an eye. Megumi, on the other hand, would rather die than hurt you in any sort of way. It wasn't how he was brought up. That and he would get an earful from his sister if he ever did.

Megumi would be lying if he said he wasn't upset about the entire ordeal with your ex, but if not, then he never would have been able to tell you how he felt. Sure, he hated seeing you cry over someone as pathetic as your ex, but he enjoyed getting to be the one you came to, the one whose shoulder you cried on and, finally, the one he would love forever.

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months

Text

Care and Comfort

CW: Richie being Richie, swearing. Angst and fluff. Mentions of Mikey's death and addiction.

Word Count: 2070

AN: Requested by an anonymous person!

February 22.

It’s a tough day. You’ve been with Richie long enough now—two years—to know what the date means. What it is the anniversary of. You came into Richie’s life after Mikey exited it, but you knew enough of your boyfriend’s best friend.

What a charming, larger-than-life man he was. Mikey Berzatto. Mikey Bear. Charismatic. Filled the room with his presence, his stories, his ability to make a person feel like the most important person in the world.

Also an addict. Also, probably, a narcissist.

So it’s a tough day for Richie. Mikey’s suicide blew a hole in the lives of those who loved him, and Richie loved Mikey like a brother. Two years out from his death, Richie is no closer to any real closure: he misses his friend. He loves his friend. He hates his friend for what he did, all the shitty behavior before he finally made a choice that couldn’t be taken back.

February 22 is the day that Richie’s feelings break loose like a storm. He rages, he goes sulky and quiet. He gets mad at Mikey, and because Mikey isn’t there, he lashes out at those closest to him.

You, namely.

But you can handle it. What sort of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t help him weather these hard days? Because you know, deep down, the person Richie is angriest at is himself: that he didn’t see it coming, that he didn’t do more to help his friend.

-----

Your first year together, Richie was snappish. He tried to start fights with you all day, and you—not understanding him completely—were too bewildered to rise to any bickering. Your confusion took the fire out of him, and he spent the rest of the day maudlin, full of apologies, rife with terribly negative self-talk.

This year?

This year, Richie is just sad.

He stays in bed past noon. He gets up around one in the afternoon, wanders out into the living room of your shared apartment, then promptly plants himself beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, soft. You glance at him, take in the red-rimmed eyes, the deep lines etched between his brows.

He answers with a grunt, a non-committal noise.

“Hungry?”

Another grunt, and this one sounds sort of like a no or a nah. A beat later, though, you hear the snarl of his stomach, and you laugh softly at it.

“Let me make you something.”

That, at least, earns you a grumble, a string of unintelligible words, but he doesn’t object when you stand up and make your way to the tiny kitchen.

-----

You’re no Carmy, and you’re no Sidney. You’re no Tina or Marcus or Ebra.

Still, you can hold your own as a home chef. You had a mother and a father who cooked, who taught you how to fry a chicken breast, how to make a simple fresh pasta, how to roast a piece of beef or pork.

So you can’t do a Hamachi crudo or a lamb ragu, but you can do comfort food. Food that sticks to the ribs and warms a person from the inside out. For Richie, on this difficult day? You make him breakfast for early dinner or late lunch.

You slice up the brioche you got earlier in the week and find it perfectly stale for French toast. You put cinnamon and a pinch of cloves in the egg batter, fry up the slices to perfection. You fry some bacon to the crispness Richie likes; you make a pile of buttery scrambled eggs with goat cheese and chives folded in.

You finish it all off with strong coffee in the French press, which Richie used to scoff at as needlessly fussy but now can’t live without.

You don’t bother to plate it nicely. This isn’t the Bear, and no one is going to give you a star. This is food as medicine, and you heap everything on a plate and carry it—along with silverware and the coffee—into the living room.

Richie has gone horizontal as you cooked, stretched out on the couch with his face to the back, but the scent of the food makes him turn a bit and glance up at you.

“Said I wasn’t hungry.” He sounds peevish.

“Just have a bite or two.” You set the silverware down with a clink, and Richie heaves a sigh, rolls over, sits up. He doesn’t quite glare at you, but it’s glare-adjacent. A slight narrowing of his eyes as he looks at you.

“Didn’t have to fucking do all of this.” His voice has a rough edge, but you know him well enough to hear the faint thread of gratitude underneath all the gruffness. Richie never knows how to handle being taken care of. He’s used to being the one taking care of others: his daughter, his ex-wife when they were still married. Mikey’s mother, after Mikey’s suicide.

He’s the real-life version of setting himself on fire to keep others warm, so he is always surprised when someone else cares for him. Even if it’s something as ordinary as making him a comforting meal on a day when he’s too paralyzed by grief to feed himself.

-----

As you had guessed not hungry wasn’t true. Once Richie gets a few bites into him, his appetite awakens and the plate is cleaned of crumbs in an appallingly short amount of time.

“Good?” you ask, and he mumbles a sheepish “thanks,” so you clear away the empty dishes, take them to the kitchen, rinse them off.

When you return to the couch, though, Richie is sitting up straight and gazing right at you. He waits until you meet his eye, and then he says, slowly and deliberately, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He clears his throat, seems embarrassed by himself. So much of his bluster and cockiness is an act, a smokescreen. Richie is often insecure, chagrined by his own behavior, and you can guess that he’s berating himself for being curt with you earlier. For dozing in bed for so long when the two of you have so few days together.

“Really didn’t have to do all that though, sweetheart,” he starts, and you wave him off. You sit beside him, and he lifts his arm automatically, the gesture for you to tuck yourself against him, but you shake your head. You settle against the corner of the couch, then pat your lap invitingly.

“C’mon, Jerimovich,” you tell him. “Let me scratch your head.”

Your first impression of Richie is the most lasting one, even two years in. He puts you in mind of a shelter dog—kicked and mistreated in some prior life, yearning for affection, baring his teeth at the thought of being kicked again.

And like a dog, the man loves to be petted. It’s not necessarily sexual; it’s the simple fact of human touch, the feel-good chemicals that release in his busy brain when you skate your fingertips over his bare skin, when you press your own body against his, when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

Which is what you do now. You let Richie settle in your lap. He tucks one arm underneath him, but he wraps the other over your thighs. Once he’s situated, you just…pet him. Scratch his head. Sometimes you press your fingertips in the small muscles that go tense and bunched at the base of his skull, but mostly you just pet him. Let the repetitive motion lull him, and you feel him relax against you little by little.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask after a long stretch of silence. The T.V. is on, some true crime cop show, but it’s muted. The only sounds are those of city living: faint doors opening in the hallway of your apartment building, traffic in the street, the occasional gust of wind against the window.

“No.”

A beat, and then you ask him to tell you a story about Mikey. It makes Richie sigh, and he starts with the well-worn story about Bill Murray, but you interrupt him.

“No, tell me a story from when you were kids,” you clarify. “Tell me about Baby Mikey, and make sure there’s lots of Baby Richie.”

He chuckles against you, and it sounds warm. Genuine. He’s never said it, and you’ve never asked, but you can guess that it helps him somehow, when you ask for Richie stories in the guise of Mikey stories. How you gently try to frame him as the main character in his own life instead of Michael Berzatto’s side-kick and sometimes-stooge.

Now, Richie tells you a story from his high school days, and it’s his own story, and Mikey is just a supporting character, but an important one—a supporting character before the crush of adulthood, before Papa Berzatto took off and left Mikey as the man of the house. Before the Beef as it skidded into bankruptcy, before the arson attempts and shell games with Unc’s money, before the pills and the dealing out of the alley, before whatever darkness in Mikey swallowed him up and put him on that bridge with a gun two years ago to the day.

It's a funny story, some prank on some stodgy old teacher, and Richie chuckles as he tells it. You can hear his own darkness bleed out of his voice, can hear him remembering the good ol’ days instead of wallowing in the bad ones. You can hear him remembering his friend who was more like a brother—remembering him in all his bright promise and not as he left.

The story ends, and then you hear it: a weak sniffle. You lay your palm over the curve of his skull, hold him, and think that a cry might do him good. Richie holds so much in; tears might be healthy, might help him grieve Mikey in a more healthy way—

“I know it, you know,” he says against your lap, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Know what, baby?” You wonder at what revelation he is going to share with you, what understanding in his own psychology or Mikey’s has come to him.

“I fucking know I don’t deserve you,” he replies, and it surprises you. You gape wordlessly above him. It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say.

“All this shit,” he explains. “My life’s a fucking mess, and every year, I fall into this black hole and you have to pull me out.”

You smile down at where he’s settled in your lap, and you feel a wave of love for him wash through you. Your boyfriend, Richard Lawrence Jerimovich. Rough around the edges and then some, but underneath all that trauma and hurt lies the biggest heart you’ve ever seen. A heart of gold. A man who wants desperately to belong, to be loved, to be needed.

“You’re putting a lot of weight on have to,” you tell him. “I don’t have to. I want to.”

He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t fucking have to or want to.”

“It’s just life, Richie. It beats us up. What’s the point if we don’t take care of each other when we’re feeling a little more beat up than usual?”

“You take care of me more than I take care of you.”

You scoff, and you resume scratching his head. Dragging your nails through his short hair. “Bullshit.”

“You do.”

“You keeping score on me, Jerimovich?”

He grumbles at that. “You’re not keeping score?”

“In love? Never.”

As usual, the mention of love makes him squirm. Makes him uncomfortable. He’s perfectly fine saying it to you, says I love you easily and without a bit of hesitation. Hearing it said back to him, though? That’s entirely different.

You say it as much as you can. You let him squirm and be uncomfortable and you let each mention of your love for him chip away at those rough edges a little more, revealing more of that big heart of gold.

“I love you,” you tell him, and sure enough, he squirms again.

So you say it again and again, over and over, until he finally surrenders to it, sighs and nestles himself in your lap, and he mutters it back to you as he allows you to comfort him, to take care of him. To love him.

#richie the bear #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear #tropes and tales

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billthedrake · 8 months

Text

THE AD AND SON (PART TWO)

It was the third day at the cabin and uncharacteristically, Brian woke up before his dad.

He slipped out of bed and found some sweats to put on. He'd hoped to spend the week in the cabin without putting on clothes, but the air was nippy this morning.

As he stepped into the living room he could see why. Outside the plate glass window a foot and a half of snow blanketed the ground.

Brian took a minute to enjoy the serenity of the view then went to make coffee, mostly for his father, though he'd been drinking it more the last month, trying to make himself like it. Partly because he felt it was the grown-up thing to do, and partly because it was something his father enjoyed.

Brian wasn't good at cooking, and his dad usually made anything more complicated in the Casey home. But Brian could do breakfast and he proceeded to cook some bacon and get the eggs ready.

His dad had an eager look on his face as he stepped in, wearing his university sweatshirt and some pajama pants. "Man, this is a treat," he said, taking the coffee mug from Brian's hands. "How long you been up?"

"About a half hour," Brian said. "Looks like we got a snow storm last night."

Dan padded over to the window and looked out. "Well, I'll be." He looked over at Brian. "Hope you're not hoping to go anywhere any time soon."

"We're trapped here?" Brian asked, a little concern in his voice.

"Trapped's a strong word. But it'll take a few days for the snow to melt enough to be passable. Still not wishing you'd gone to the Caribbean instead?" he laughed.

Brian plated breakfast for the two of them and came to sit at the counter next to his dad. "Eat up old man. We're going out and playing in the snow after breakfast."

"Is that right?" Dan smirked, stuffing a piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

That's what they did. They geared up with thermal shirts and wool socks and hats and gloves and trudged out into the fluffy white snow.

"It's all fine powder. Shouldn't take long to melt once the sun comes out," Dan said.

Brian reached down and gathered up some of the snow. "Damn, won't make a snowball."

"And who the hell you think you're going to be throwing snowballs at?" Dan chided playfully.

"Christ, Dad, where's your sense of fun?"

Dan's eyebrow raised up. "I'll show you, you little fuck," he growled and charged toward Brian, knocking him back into the soft powder. His muscular body landed on him with an oof!

Brian got over his surprise and started giggling, like a kid almost, and Dan started, too.

"No fair," Brian laughed.

"Who said I was fair?" Dan said with a triumphant look on his face. Damn, his son could make him feel twenty years younger.

Just then Brian craned his face up and met his father in a kiss. Dan's body froze stiff, surprised by the action.

"Come on, Dad," Brian said softly. "No one out here but us. Let loose a little."

Dan nodded and now initiated their kiss. It was liberating as hell, making out with Brian out here in the open air. And Brian was on the same wavelength, he could tell responding to his kiss eagerly.

"You're one hell of a kid, you know that?" Dan said. Finally he stood up and offered his hand to help Brian up. "Come on," he urged.

Instead Brian ignored his father's outstretched hand and sat up, reaching out to the button on the man's jeans.

"Jesus, Brian!" Dan gasped.

"What part of letting loose do you not understand, Dad," Brian asked in a challenging tone.

He had to admit the kiss and now Brian's actions were making Dan erect as he could remember. The air felt cool on his cock once Brian freed it but it wasn't exposed for long. His son swallowed it and started blowing him, right there in the open.

When it came to blowjobs, Dan preferred to give rather than receive. Part of it was Brian's inexperience. But mostly it was just the way the father was wired. He never came quickly getting head and sometimes he didn't come that way at all. Meanwhile, the feel of a hard cock in his mouth and of cum gushing down his throat was the biggest turn on.

Only now, Brian's mouth was bringing him off. Maybe it was the naughtiness of the situation. Maybe his son's cocksucking skills had gotten better. But Dan Casey was gonna cum right into his boy's throat.

"Oh Bri, Oh fuck, I'm there, son." With that he gripped Brian's head and fired his semen in a sweet wave of release.

He barely regained his senses as he watched Brian spit out a health gob of his father's semen in to his hand and reach down to smear it on his own exposed hardon. Excitedly he stood up. "Think you can stay hard, Dad?" he asked. Brian was clearly eager to get off himself.

Dan nodded. No way was his cock going down now. He watched dumbly as Brian shucked his jeans down his thighs and turned around. Those amazing butt cheeks were displayed once more.

"Put it in me sir," Brian ordered.

His son's hole was still damp with lube from their fuck the night before and it took Dan only a few seconds to work his way inside.

"Oh yeah," Brian hissed. "I think your load is still in me."

It was. Dan could feel the semen deposit on his cock as he fucked Brian in this standing position. It was cold out but their connection felt hot. After a few strokes he felt his boy's ass constrict tightly against his rod. Brian was surprisingly nonverbal as he came, just grunting as his cum shot out into the snow.

They uncoupled carefully, and each man pulled up their briefs and jeans. Dan now met Brian in a kiss. "Thanks for getting me out of my shell. That was hot."

"It was." He gave his dad another quick kiss. "Ready to go back in sir?"

Dan could tell Brian was starting to feel cold. He nodded and wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder as they walked back to the cabin. "Maybe we can play in the snow more later," Dan said hopefully.

"Yeah," Brian replied.

Dan let Brian shower first, to clean off and warm up. His son looked much happier as he stepped out into the living room in his sweats. "Your turn."

The two spent the afternoon reading. Dan was reading one of the spy novels he liked reading when he had free time. Brian was studying for his accounting class.

The afternoon was going by and Brian closed his computer, stretching his body on the sofa. Dan set down his book. "Done studying?"

Brian nodded and reached down to cup his crotch. "Too horny for accounting," he grinned.

Dan slid over and removed Brian's hand so he could see the erection forming in the jock's sweatpants. "That's probably something I can help you with," the man grinned.

"No, that's definitely something you can help with," Brian countered and pulled down his elastic band, showing off the sizable boner.

"Fuck, that's beautiful, son," Dan sighed as he stroked it up and down.

Brian smirked. Something about his dad's excitement over his cock gave the 19-year old confidence. Made him cocky even.

"You know what's even more beautiful?" he asked.

"What's that?" Dan asked looking up to meet his son's gaze.

"Your mouth around it."

Dan growled at the suggestion and hunkered down between Brian's strong legs.

Brian hissed an exhale of air as his dad took the cock into his mouth. "Aw yeah, that's it sir. Go down on me, Dad. Further. Swallow your boy's cock."

Dan did, excitedly. He'd learned to suppress his gag reflex and now could deep throat Brian's decently large size without issue. And he could give long strokes with his mouth and throat, up and down, in almost a milking action.

Thankfully Brian had held off on his initial impulse to cum and was riding out the sensations. Their sex in the morning had taken the edge off and the men could both enjoy a nice, slow suck session now.

Dan took the time to build Brian up then hold him off, licking the nuts and kissing the insides of Brian's thighs while the young man looked eagerly on his father.

About twenty minutes into the blow job, Brian came, almost suddenly in fact, shooting hard and heavy into Dan's hoovering mouth.

The father was all smiles as he pulled back. "Whoa, stud... I think that was a record."

Brian nodded, smiling himself. "Yeah, I'd say so. Fuck, that was incredible, Dad."

Dan had a proud look on his face as he leaned back on his haunches. "I think we earned ourselves a beer before dinner. What do you say?"

The men watched some weather on the TV and some Sports Center while they had their beers and relaxed.

The sun was setting as Dan got up to start on dinner.

After they ate, Dan had an impish grin. "Feel like going out into the snow again?"

Brian smiled. "I think someone liked being a little kid again," he teased.

Dan shrugged. "Truth be told, I liked being with you out in the open. Kissing you like that." He blushed a little. "I'd like to blow you out there this time."

Brian chuckled. Sometimes he thought he was the one with the bigger sex drive but his father was a horndog, too.

Dan tried to read his expression. "Or do you need more time to recover?"

Brian shook his head no. "Oh, I'm good for it, Dad. Fuck, let's do this."

They were giddy as they put on their warm clothes, which had dried off since the morning.

They stepped out into the snow, which came up to their knees as they trudged on. They walked down toward the lake. There was some dim moonlight out to light the way.

"Think anyone else is staying near the lake?" Brian asked as they came to a spot with a good view.

"Doubt it," Dan said. "If so, they surely can't see us." With that he stepped up to Brian and kissed him softly. His son returned the embrace, holding onto his dad tightly.

"I like this," the younger man said. "A lot."

"Me, too," Dan said, kissing his boy with more passion now. Finally he leaned back. "I believe I promised my son a blow job."

Brian nodded excitedly and gulped as his father squatted down in the snow. It was a real trip getting serviced like this out in the open. They were probably out of sightline for anyone but the idea that they weren't thrilled Brian, who grew harder inside his dad's bobbing mouth. Maybe he had a bigger exhibition streak than he realized.

Dan was able to take his time on Brian's dick, knowing his son's hair trigger probably wasn't going to be an issue so soon after the last blowjob.

But finally Brian felt himself getting close and he pushed his dad's shoulders to ease him off. "I don't want to come yet, Dad," he said. "Let me do you for a bit."

They traded positions and Dan exhilarated once more in the sensation of his only son blowing him. Brian was definitely getting better at this he decided. His son treated him to a few minutes of head before backing off.

"Turn around, Dad," he ordered in a husky tone.

Dan felt nervous about what his son was asking but he was also turned on. It took a little maneuvering with the depth of snow, but he turned to face away from Brian. Then he felt his boy's strong hands on his hairy ass, kneading the muscle.

"My old man's got a hell of an ass on him," Brian growled, slipping his fingers deeper into the crack.

"Bri, buddy..." he started. "I should let you know..."

"What Dad?" he asked, kissing the left ass cheek then the right.

"I've... I've never been fucked."

He could feel Brian freeze behind him. "For real, Dad?"

"Fraid so, son. I'm not sure I'm ready..." he started to say, but Brian interrupted.

"It's OK Dad."

Dan relaxed then felt his son's face nestle in his crack. He wasn't going to, was he? Sure enough, Dan felt Brian's tongue snake forward and start licking Dan's hole.

Of all his 46 years, Dan Casey had never been rimmed. The idea had even been a little repulsive to him, either giving or receiving. But here was Brian opening him up to the experience. The first licks shocked him and made his body shake but then Dan decided it felt good. Better than good. Brian's asseating had him hard a rock and dripping too. And his boy's actions were getting more confident, his tongue swipes deeper.

"That's it, boy. Eat your daddy's hole," he growled, no longer concerned someone would hear. The night was otherwise still and quiet.

Brian ate him out excitedly. He'd seen this in porn videos and had been eager to try it out for real. Finally he had to take a breath.

"Goddamn, Dad. You got an amazing ass." His fingers explored his father's brawny butt before diving in to munch some more.

"Bri... son.... let's take this inside OK?"

Brian was all smiles as he stood up and tucked his hard cock back in his pants.

They kissed and Dan thought he'd be repulsed by the muskiness he could smell on his son's face, but the scent was a faint trace and not bad at all. It turned Dan on even, kissing the mouth that had just made out with his hole.

The two weren't in a hurry and Dan got off seeing the knowing smirk on Brian's face as they walked back to the cabin.

"You liked it," Brian said.

"I won't lie to you, son," Dan admitted. "I didn't think I was going to either."

"I'm going to eat your hole more tonight."

Dan loved take-charge Brian, he decided. "Is that right?" he teased.

"Yes, sir," the teen smiled, hands in his coat as he hopped in the heavy snow. "I can't believe I waited so long to do that."

"I can't believe my own son just gave me my first rim job," Dan growled.

Brian smiled. "No way! Hot."

They kicked off their boots inside and shed their coats. As they stripped they both had boners. "Feel like warming up in the shower?" Dan asked.

"Yeah," Brian said. "You can go first if you want."

"I got a better idea. We can go at the same time," Dan smiled.

It was an intimate experience showering for the first time together. They used the occasion to explore each other's bodies. And Brian hunched down to eat Dan out some more under the shower spray. The father braced his strong body against the tile and let his boy treat him to a range of amazing sensations.

Finally they turned off the water and toweled off.

They walked back into the bedroom and Brian pulled down the covers. "Get on all fours, Dad," he instructed.

Dan felt weird following orders like this but he did as asked. And was rewarded as Brian returned to rimming his hole.

This was so taboo and nasty, and Dan loved it. Brian seemed to get off on it even more, his young dick erect and reddened with excitement.

Finally Brian pulled back and spit on his father's pucker and pushed a finger inside.

"Oooh!" Dan hissed.

"Too much, sir?" Brian asked.

"I'm good kiddo."

Brian reached over for the lube and applied to his fingers. Now two were pushing in. His father was tight as hell all right but the man seemed to be taking it OK.

"I'd never do anything you didn't want me to, sir," Brian said. "But damn, I want inside you so bad."

It was time, Dan decided. He'd been hesitant to let another man inside him like this, but if there was anyone deserving, it was Brian.

"Go for it, kiddo," he said. "Only we're doing it face to face."

"Yes, sir," Brian answered, skewering his finger's into his dad's hole, which was starting to give a little though was still snug. "Another finger first?" he asked. His father didn't object so Brian gently pushed a third finger inside.

"Easy there, son," Dan hissed, but he lay his head forward and let Brian gently wiggle more inside. His hole felt full, very full now, but it wasn't hurting. And the more Brian twisted his fingers around the more he got used to it.

Pretty soon Bri was able to pushing his digits in and out, literally doing a finger fuck motion.

"OK, Dad," he said. "Flip over."

Dan was hard and excited but nervous. But his son's kiss felt good and he loved the sensation of his built young man on top of him. Thrusting that erect son cock against his own.

The boy hoisted his legs up and nudged forward. Somehow Brian had lubed his cock and it felt slick as it bore inside. A sharp sting travelled through Dan's body. "Oh!" he yelped.

Brian held steady. "Sorry, Dad," he said with concern.

"Give me a second," Dan pleaded.

Brian nodded, patient. "Remember what you said when you took my cherry? That it would hurt at first but it'd get better quickly?"

Dan felt emotional at those words. His own words tossed back at him. "If I'd known how you felt, son..." he joked.

"You would have still fucked me," Brian countered. "You were right Dad, it starts to feel great. If you let it."

Dan nodded and decided he'd do this for his boy. Brian pushed in and was soon buried inside. Dan felt full and more than a little uncomfortable. But the sting was gone. Then another thrust. And another.

Only Dan saw his son's expression change. "You gonna cum son?"

Brian tried to hold it off but he gave a little nod as he started to come inside his dad. "Oh fuck! Oh wow!" he sighed as he came off his orgasm and started resuming his thrusts.

It turned Dan on. The knowledge that he had his son's seed buried inside him. The idea that his stud of a son was going for seconds, just like that. The idea that Brian had so confidently taken his cherry.

It made the older man hard and his insides turn to pure pleasure. "Oh, fuck. Fuck me Brian!"

"Yeah Dad!" the boy exclaimed, thrilled his dad was getting into it.

"Fuck your daddy. Fuck my hole. That cock's so good. Harder, son!"

Brian really started fucking now. His dad was on the same wavelength, thrilled at the first experience bottoming. As Brian fucked, Dan stroked and his whole body grew hot and tingly.

"Gonna cum son."

"Come on my cock, Dad. Your own son fucking you, sir."

That did it. The taboo tripped Dan's wires and he was firing off all over his chest, just seconds before Brian began his second ejaculation deep in his guts.

After cumming the sensation felt uncomfortable once more and Dan urged Brian to pull out.

"You OK, sir?" his son asked, concerned.

"More than OK," Dan grinned. "Jesus, my boy can fuck."

Brian had a proud look on his face. "You inspire me, sir."

"Inspired two healthy loads from you," Dan teased, reaching down to touch his no-longer virgin hole. It was wet with lube and Brian's seed.

"I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my life," the young man observed. "Please tell me that wasn't the last time."

"That wasn't the last time," Dan muttered as he met Brian for a kiss. He lay back on the bed and caught his breath. "Fuck. 46 and learning new tricks."

Brian lay down beside him. "Wasn't sure how you'd feel about having the tables turned."

"Mentally I'm still processing it," Dan said. "But physically... well, that was intense. I don't think I've come harder in my life."

"That's all the processing you need, Dad. Don't overthink it."

Maybe that's what he'd been doing this whole time with Brian. Overthinking it. Or swinging from not thinking to overthinking, and back. A happy medium would be nice.

"I love you, son. Very much." There, it wasn't so hard.

"God, Dad, you know I'm crazy about you, right?"

They kissed and Dan cracked wise. "I dunno. I thought maybe you were just a horny kid."

"Oh I am. But, Dad.... you're overthinking it."

#drakestories

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silverechosandblankmasks · 10 months

Text

Privately, Etoiles thinks training with Team Bolas is a little horrifying.

Its- it's hard to explain why, other than the obvious. It's not like they scared him, he didn't scare easy after all, but they were... unsettling, that was the word.

It was on the 4th day of purgatory, most people were busy with tasks or upkeep of supplies, and since they only had 4 hours to actually pursue tasks a day, today it just lined up to be a day of mostly chill attitudes while most grindy people were off and away from base.

It's why Green even had the chance to come visit Team Red, prompted by the fact Bad was spawn killing the poor team again. They didn't even have color on the board!

Granted, that really didn't mean anything in Purgatory, alliances and well-wishes for other teams changed on a dime, but that day Green had nothing else to do then try and keep Soulfire at bay so there they were to help scare him off and chat to see if Bolas had anything to say.

It mostly turned into a training session, Etoiles could see Charlie and Jaden had potential just lacked knowledge so he offered advice, and in fighting them and watching them fight each other, that's when the unsettled feeling crept in.

Part of it was obvious, the Gas masks, but it's not like they were the only ones. Everyone had them at this point, but it was how they wore them, obviously cared enough about to personalize, and the noises they made as they yelled, grunted, and howled behind them.

It was also in the way they moved, lumbering, stalking gates, lunging and almost dancing as they moved jerkily. In the way they would, in unison, suddenly break out into more deranged noises or chanting without any noticeable cue.

But it was in the way they fought, that gave him the willies the most.

Etoiles fought because he enjoyed it, he enjoyed ridding the high of adrenalin and indulging in his bloodlust, of trying to win and the work put in.

Bolas, however, fought like they were Hungry.

Not like a flesh eater or vampire would, though the jokes he overheard about them eating their corpses didn't help (and gods did he hope they were jokes), but Red fought like they were hungry for the kill, hungry to see blood spilled and willing to do anything to have their enemies corpses lay at their feet, like they had nothing to loose.

The way they scraped at each other with their nails and bit with their teeth, unafraid to fight like an animal, or bring down their opponent with them if they knew they weren't going to win.

It wasn't like Etoiles hadn't fought Bolas before, but here, free from the rush and face pace of trying to survive a real battle and instead doing 1v1's and watching as they fought each other, that's when it was really obvious. It was inhuman and feral, and Etoiles wondered for just a second, how much of this was his fault from that first day, how much him and his team and blue's actions had pushed red over the edge.

They made him worried a bit, but Etoiles pushed it aside. Nobody was their best selves in purgatory after all, and he'd crossed several lines he normally wouldn't, specially at his friend's expense.

All he could really do was ignore the feeling and try to not let it get to him, so he pushed it down and got ready for the Egg War the next day.

It was less than a week later when Etoiles thinks about this again, ponders on their unsettling nature for just a second as he's absorbed into their team. He's unsure how or where he can fit into such a team like this, how to cope with their feral and chaotic nature.

The thought goes away as Etoiles gets pulled, almost too easily, into their dynamics. Bolas eat together, sleep tucked against each other for safety, spar and fight with each other to get better, and kill for each other too. Bolas was a family.

It's only on the day before what is possibly the last match that he realizes the unsettling, feeling has long since gone and it, and Bolas' once strange, horrifying habits now feel like second nature and normality.

Etoiles may not have started as Bolas, but he was Bolas now, and forever. And nothing could take that away from him or any of the Bolas.

Please, if you did enjoy, reblog and just not like. Likes do nothing and it's kinda disheartening to see like 50 likes and 4 reblogs only for it to die because nobody else sees it after the first 3 days. I'd appreciate it greatly! <3

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #qsmp bolas #qsmp etoiles #etoiles #q!etoiles #suprise suprise more team studies #this time through Etoiles going #hi wtf is that #oh wait thats my new family lol all is cool #while blue's inner monologues are just #bro wtf wtf wtf is wrong with them #and red is like :D #mine

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moutainrusing · 2 months

Text

crack fic

985 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

It was a well-known fact that Remus Lupin didn’t share. He didn’t share his notes, his books, his clothes, his secrets, his food, his thoughts, his everything. Remus would lend you something, but you’d better give it back, else you’d face his cruel silent treatment, feeling his glower for days on end and having no clue why until you realised — Oh! SHIT! Sorry, Remus!

Even after that, Remus would hold a long, hard grudge against you. He would never give you his beautiful smile ever again.

Which was why Sirius had a mission to never incur Remus’s fury, because Remus was so beautiful and he would die if he never saw Remus’s smile again; even the thought right now was a dagger to his side—

Anyway, always give Remus his stuff back, never take, never ask unless Remus, in all his divine glory, blessed it upon you, and appreciate Remus as the holy saviour that he was.

Those were Sirius’s life mottos, and he stuck to them like religion.

Until one fateful day.

“Oi, Sirius!” James called. “We should have a competition to see who’s the best at eating with no hands!”

“Mate, you’re so on,” Sirius grinned, but before he could stuff his face into his plate of full English breakfast, he realised his hair was loosely hanging around his shoulders, and he couldn’t get egg yolk on it, especially at the start of a school day.

“Here,” Remus passed him a hair tie, not looking up from his book.

Sirius gingerly took it, holding it up as he revered it in the light. A sacred possession from the Remus Lupin. Then James snatched it, quickly tied Sirius’s hair up, and shoved his face into the plate. By the time they’d finished, Remus had gone.

“Urgh,” James groaned. “I think that was a tie.”

Sirius scowled, before he remembered. Hair tie! In his hair! Remus’s!

He needed to return it. “Rematch later,” he told James, before running off to find Remus.

When he got to first period English, Remus was already sitting in his chair in the front-left corner of the classroom, so Sirius resigned himself to his seat in the back-left corner. (McGonagall had seating plans, where she liked to keep ride-or-dies apart, like an obstacle in bromance films.)

James shot Sirius a look as he entered the classroom late, as if Sirius was the odd one for being punctual, and took his seat in the front-right corner, while Peter drooled on his desk in the back-right corner.

Now, how was he to return Remus’s hair tie?

He could always shoot it. Sirius stretched it between two fingers, released it, letting it soar in a beautiful arc… to hit the back of Emmeline’s head. She frowned, picked it up, shrugged, and slid it onto her wrist to add to her growing collection of hair tie bracelets.

What if the hair tie had been poisoned?! She couldn’t slide it onto her wrist like nothing! She didn’t even glance back to see who the culprit was! She needed help. Although the priority was getting the hair tie back, not Emmeline’s concerning state of mind.

Now, how was he to get it back?

As Emmeline raised her hand to answer McGonagall, Sirius eyed the hair tie, glinting like stolen jewellery.

Once the lesson had finished, Sirius waited back for her, except James challenged him to race to next period chemistry, and…

Yeah, no hair tie… but he won? He even caught up with Remus’s insanely long strides, and Remus had offered him congratulations, so no grudge holding! Not yet at least.

“That wasn’t fair. Pete tripped me up,” James muttered, flopping next to Sirius.

“It was an accident!” Peter defended. “I was tir—” He yawned, and rested his head on the desk.

Sirius spent the whole lesson counting down until the next lesson and then that lesson counting down until the next lesson, until lunch arrived, and he scanned the tables for Emmeline. He spotted her, just as she was leaving the Dining Hall, and moved to chase after her. However, he was holding James’s sleeve for some reason, and ended up dragging him across the floor.

“What the fuck?” James glared up at him.

“No! I’ve lost her!” Sirius moped.

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sirius, you’ll get your mental stability back. And I respect her pronouns. Are you still a he?”

Sirius gave him the most incredulous expression, and turned to get lunch and eat his problems away.

Next lesson and next lesson went on, until dinner, and he spotted Emmeline, the bloody marauder, the miscreant, the tyrant—

He stalked towards her, fuming. “Hello, Emmeline,” he greeted robotically.

“Hi?” She responded.

“Please could I have that hair tie?” He pointed.

“Sure.” She passed him one.

“No, not that one,” he shook his head. “That one.”

She raised a brow, passing him another.

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” he grabbed her wrist, and took off Remus’s precious artefact — no wonder she couldn’t give it up.

“Oi,” Mary cut in. “Don’t manhandle my girlfriend!”

And that was how a brawl broke out at dinner. Sirius got a detention.

After detention, he finally made it to the dormitory, ready to throw himself into bed after a stupidly tiring day — but then he remembered why his day had been tiring. The hair tie! He didn’t have it…

“Remus,” he whispered.

The boy lowered his book and looked at him expectantly.

“I… might’ve lost your hair tie…”

Remus frowned. Oh no. Here it comes. Everlasting rage—

“What hair tie? Oh, that hair tie. I borrowed that from Emmeline, ‘cause Sprout thought my hair was too long for a bio practical,” he rolled his eyes. “I meant to return it, except then you needed one, and I couldn’t refuse you ‘cause I’m a simp,” he shrugged.

Sirius gaped at him. “I… may also be… a simp… for you.”

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #microfiction #james potter #wolfstar microfic #platonic prongsfoot #emmeline vance #emmary #emmeline x mary

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kiwioala · 10 months

Text

here’s a ton of discrepancies on the island now: ( i think a lot of these can be brushed off but Idk… )

when the island was cleaned up on the QSMP livestream, all of the halloween and día de los muertos decorations were missing, but now they’re back?

the original (burnt down) one is still located near favela, however, there is now a second big ben right outside of foolishs dragon that is in perfect condition

i haven’t seen anyone point this out yet but cucurucho left a book for forever on his desk a few days ago and now it's gone too.

the black concrete remains at the residents houses/personal areas, but is pretty much entirely cleaned up from the general areas like spawn. with a few exceptions being; a few blocks on the outside of NINHO, the museum, & the adoption center.

which, funnily enough, was almost exactly how it looked before the residents had left for purgatory (ik there was a TON of black concrete during the vegas trip but iirc it was pretty much almost entirely cleaned up.)

and just a reminder, this is what the island looked like 8 days ago:

and this is what it looked like 3 days ago:

onto stuff the eye said yesterday, we have:

“I would permit you to leave, but I must ask, do you desire to leave? I think your place is much better by at my side, you would thrive under my command. Consider it, but know this is the only time you will be given this opportunity (to leave).” To ElQuackity

“You want to return to your little island prison. Comparatively, I’m pretty nice to you all. I just tell you to suffer and let you go on your merry way.”

“You desire your eggs. Unfortunately for you, our games aren’t over yet. We will play just a couple more games for my enjoyment.”

“Congratulations on surviving purgatory, it was lovely having you here. In fact, it was so lovely that you should stay here. I remember catching some sentiments from some of you that you’d like to stay here— how about we make that happen?”

“An eternity in purgatory. An eternity as my plaything. That’s your fate— forever here.”

“Remember, the true end of purgatory rests solely in my hands. Safe travels, sinners. Enjoy the chaos.”

right after that, the screen saying “loading new games,” and “loading new disasters” appears before cutting out right as the new team announcements load. obviously this could be a teaser for the global event but, with the survival instinct event being announced, it could be for anything. plus there’s so many loose ends regarding purgatory too like, the cursed team and forever’s judas thing never happening and i’m sure the admins would’ve asked him to get online to do it seeing how much he apparently wanted to do it.

#qsmp #qsmp theory #?

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starrailstories · 10 months

Note

Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

#blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai #hsr #yingxing

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weministertomonsters · 3 months

Text

M Werefox (Harcourt) x F reader - 2

➤ Pairing - M werefox x F reader

➤ Wordcount 2.4k

The spring air is still cool, but the bright sun overhead promises warmth. You step out of the train and immediately get attacked by your mother, who drags you into her arms.

"Oh, my darling girl!" She exclaims.

She smells of pastries and sun-warmed linen, a scent that reminds you of home.

"Have you been waiting long?" You ask.

"Not very. Look at you, a proper hat and brooch and pressed clothes! All the fixings of a proper lady," your mother says as you part.

You grin and touch the brim of your hat. "Just wait till we're back home. I'll be back to my sundresses and boots in no time."

Your mother insists on carrying your suitcase for you. In the time you've been gone, you've forgotten how capable your mother is. Her hair is peppered with gray, and yet she's stronger than you, fit from working in the gardens. The wagon looks new thanks to the coat of paint that matches the sky.

"You saved up for paint?" You raise your eyebrows.

Your mother has always been practical. In the past, she would refuse to spend money on something if it wasn't necessary, and you know the wagon wasn't high on her list of importance.

"No, that's thanks to Elrond Palmer across the street. I traded a couple of pies for it. You remember Mr. Palmer?"

You do. The warm, friendly face of the widower pops into your mind. In the summer he paid you to pick the wild berries that grew on the edges of his land. You raise your eyebrows meaningfully.

"I was wondering why you didn't write as often as I had expected. You've been busy."

Your mother swats at you with a twinkle in her eye. "Get in the wagon."

"Okay!" You laugh and clamber onto the seat next to her.

"So, Mr. Palmer, huh?" You say.

"I'm not saying anything just yet," she replies. "But we get along nicely."

"I'm glad. How's Harcourt been?"

"That fox!" Your mother hums as she gets Holly the pony moving. "He's been a real help around the house. He fixed a leak in the roof for me and gave the walls a new coat of paint. And he buys the eggs from me now, if you can believe that."

"But?" You prod.

"He's been getting into some trouble lately. A couple of fights, nothing more."

"He didn't mention anything of the sort to me in his letters." You grip the edge of the seat as the road gets bumpy.

"It's spring." Your mother paused. "Mating season for the forest folk, so I've heard."

"I know," you mutter, plucking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

"If you two are planning-"

You almost jump out of the wagon. "Mother!"

"Hmmm, very well." She purses her lips. "Whatever you have between you, I just want you to know you have my blessing. Listen to your heart. Nothing is sweeter than the freedom to follow it."

You can't help but smile at that. "I'll remember that," you say, leaning your head affectionately against her shoulder.

She sighs happily like a weight has been removed from her shoulders. "Step lively, Holly!" She calls, giving the reins a light snap. "Let's go home!"

You really want to go down to the forest and find Harcourt, but you just got home and don't want to leave your mother alone so soon. You spend a cozy day together. The next morning you're hanging freshly washed sheets out to dry when the chickens start to make a racket. Drying off your hands, you go around the house to find a sleek-furred fox stuck clumsily half over the fence. The last time you saw him, he was in his fluffy winter coat.

"Oh my- Harcourt?" You squeak.

He scrunches his nose. "Hey, I wanted to surprise you. Then I got caught in your dammned fence."

"You goofball!" You tease. "What's stuck?"

"My tail," he scowls.

You lean over. "Right. Here we go." You tug it up and out of the slats, and he shakes himself off, grumbling.

"Here." He shoves a bunch of flowers into your hand.

"You got me flowers?" You grin. "Did you pick them yourself?"

"Yes, along the way. It's not much but-"

"No, this is wonderful!" You hug him, breathing in his familiar scent as your cheek rests against his fur. "You've grown taller," you murmur.

He nuzzles your hair, then inches away from you. "Only a little."

"Are you headed somewhere?" You ask.

"The tavern. I have to work there twice a week for a month." He sees the expression on your face and grins. "Don't worry, it was only a little fight."

You grab his ear and tug on it. "We're not kids anymore. You should know better."

"I know. I'll do better," he promises.

"Mmhmm, now that I'm here, I'm going to keep an eye out," you warn.

He only grins and hugs you again before whisking away.

"I'll come and see you later!" You call after his retreating form.

After dinner with your mother, you steal away to go see Harcourt. Or at least you try to. Your mother seems to be asleep, but as you put your walking shoes on she says,

"Don't forget your shawl. It's cold tonight."

You run over and give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back in an hour or so," you promise before you leave the house and walk the ten minutes to the tavern, which is right in the middle of the village.

As you push open the doors, raucous voices meet your ears.

"I heard you forest folk make the strongest brews. Is that true? Can this one hold his liquor? He looks stringy if you ask me. A good gust of wind would knock him over!" It's clear the beefy farmer is talking about Harcourt, who is busy setting mugs of frothy beer down on the table, his tail swishing with annoyance.

"You know how he gets when he's drunk," one man comes to Harcourt's defense. "Leave it be, Rob."

Rob ignores him, shoving one of the mugs towards Harcourt. "You a lightweight?"

"I don't think you want me drunk," Harcourt says coldly, staring at him with a black look that makes you shiver.

He's all tensed up, which is exactly how he gets when he's hunting. He's going to punch the man or worse.

You stride over to the table. "Hello, Rob!" You say. "How's your farm doing?"

You grab the mug and down it. You've had some alcohol during your time in the city, but this stuff is different. It's not as sweet and goes down hard. You manage not to cough as you slam the empty mug down.

Rob laughs. "Saving your friend's honor, hmm?"

"No, I was thirsty." Hands on your hips, you turn to Harcourt. "Give me another."

"You don't have to do this," he says quietly.

"I said I was thirsty," you say sweetly. "Now get me another." You put two coins on the tray and join the farmer's table.

Two mugs of beer later, you've managed to get Rob to stay out of Harcourt's business. It has costed you though, your head suddenly feels very heavy on your shoulders. You yawn and your vision tilts. Someone catches your forehead in their palm right before it cracks against the table.

"Come on," Harcourt murmurs.

"Yeah, I need some fresh air." You loop your arm around his waist and walk out of the tavern.

The cool, fresh air feels good on your face. Harcourt guides you over to the hill overlooking the forest which is covered in short, soft grass.

"Whoops," you giggle as you drop down on the grass next to him. "I think I've had a little too much to drink."

"Thanks for stopping me from being an idiot back there," Harcourt murmurs, tipping his head back and staring at the stars blanketing the night sky. "I'm always irritable in the spring."

"I wonder why!" you say, and frown as your head bumps down on the lumpy ground. "Do you mind?"

Before he can respond, you're already putting your head down on his chest.

"You're so warm," you hum in delight.

He lets out a soft breath. "You're way more drunk than I thought," he mutters. "You made such a big show of being able to handle it too."

Your alcohol-addled brain has decided he's a far more comfortable surface than the ground, so you roll over so you're completely on top of him, your hands clutching at his fur.

"Really? What am I, a pillow?" He complains.

You huff and lie there, enjoying the warmth. After a moment he whines softly, and you're just aware enough to realize you might be hurting him.

"Am I too heavy?"

"No."

"Then why are you making sounds like you're caught in a bear trap?" You grumble. "Scaring me for nothing."

His hand comes up, his claws trailing gently across your scalp.

"You're waking me up," he says.

"Hmm?"

"I've been trying to keep it off. My heat, I mean. The first one was horrible." He sucks in a breath, adjusting his position under you. "I'd be happy if I didn't have to go through it again."

"How do you do that?"

"I've been sleeping a lot," Harcourt admits. "To try and trick my body into thinking it's still winter."

"Now why would you do that? Isn't it a natural thing for your kind?"

"There aren't a lot of my kind around these parts if you haven't noticed," he says softly.

"I could help?"

"What!"

Your eyes narrow. "Why are you shouting at me?"

"Sorry. That's... No. I'll be fine," he mutters.

"But-"

"I can manage," his voice goes hard. "You need to get home."

"But I'm comfortable here," you groan against his fur.

"Well, I'm not," he says sharply. "Besides, your mother will wonder where you are."

"I'm an adult," you grumble. "I can do what I like."

"Up," he says, patting your back.

You sit up slowly, squinting at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His warm eyes soften. "You're really drunk," he murmurs, dragging the blunt curve of his claws over your cheek. He inches closer, his tongue flicking hungrily over his teeth. You lean into his touch, and that breaks him out of it.

"Let's get you home. Can you walk?"

"Yeah," you grumble, standing up, your legs as shaky as a newborn foal.

He takes you home. Halfway there he ends up carrying you. You swing your feet happily and when he tells you to stop squirming and kicking him in the ribs, you sing him off-key songs and tug on his ears. You barely remember what happened after that, but you wake up the next day in your bed with your head pounding and your mouth as dry as a desert.

You stumble downstairs for some water and your mother turns from the stove, a hand on her hip.

"Last night you were-"

"Nothing happened," you say sourly as you fill a cup with water. "I just drank too much."

Your mother sighs and shakes her head. You nurse your cup of water until the pounding in your head calms down. A bath and a warm breakfast later, the details of last night come back to you, and you have the sense to be ashamed. You got far too comfortable. It must have been awkward for him, considering you'd been away for so long, only to come back and act like no time had passed at all. Then again, you were drunk. After you finish helping your mother around the house you pack a sandwich and head for Harcourt's den.

It has changed a lot since the last time you were here. It has a door, for one, set into a mound of earth so that it looks like the gateway to a faery realm. You knock tentatively but don't get an answer. It's possible he's not home.

You try the door, and to your surprise, it opens with a hitch.

"Hopefully he's not keeping any valuables in here," you murmur, ducking in. "Anyone could walk in."

The floors are laid with wood, and the walls are plastered. It almost looks like a real house. Impressed, you wander down the small hallway that used to be nothing but a dirt tunnel.

You plan on leaving the gift for him on a table or something, but as you step into the circular space of his den, you find that he's there after all, curled up into a tight ball with his face shoved into his fluffy tail. You recall his words from yesterday, about how he's trying to sleep off the natural cycle of his heat. It sounded like a bad idea to you then, and it still does now.

Carefully, you lower yourself onto the edge of his nest. His ear flicks, but he seems to be asleep. He doesn't snap or growl when you gently touch his face, he only wrinkles his muzzle. Your hand sinks into the plush fur at his neck, and you stroke your hand over his shoulders, feeling the strong muscle underneath. Then, he lets out a whimper and flops over, twitching in his sleep. You wonder what he is dreaming about.

He inhales deeply, and flies up, knocking you over and pinning you down. His teeth bare in your face, and for the first time since you've known him, you actually feel afraid.

"Harcourt!" You shriek, and the flat, glaring animalistic look gradually fades out of his eyes.

Then they're sweet and familiar again, filling with horror.

"Why are you here?" He releases you and shrinks away. "What were you doing?"

"Sorry." You scrub at your eyes as they begin to profile with tears. "I wanted to bring you this."

You hold up the sandwich and he stares at it.

"I could have bitten your face off," he growls, his fur going all puffy with anger.

"I don't think you would have done that," you mumble.

"I'm not a kit anymore. My teeth are fucking sharp," he hisses. "If that ever happens again, you kick me as hard as you can and run."

Your eyes go round at the idea. "You would never-"

He laughs bitterly. "You have no idea what I would do," he says.

He licks his teeth and his ears flick back. "I think you should leave."

"But I..."

"Leave. Please." He turns his back to you and it takes everything in you not to cry.

You have to clear your throat twice before you can speak.

"Okay. Sorry." You put the sandwich down and slink away, feeling ashamed and sorry for yourself. However, you get it now. This isn't the time to hang out with your friend, because he's clearly out of it.

Well. This was getting long, so looks like I need to write a part 3. I can't believe I finally managed to finish this part. 🤡 Writer's block was being mean to me.

That said, I'm going on a little hiatus to focus on Patreon. I feel like I've said this before, but I badly need to have a bunch of stories on there, because that's the whole point of it. My posting has been like Tumblr -> Wattpad -> Patreon which needs to change to Patreon -> Tumblr -> Wattpad. That will save me a lot of stress, which invariably means I'll get to write more! I will be posting part 3 when I write it, so you won't have to wait for that!

I'm already looking forward to it.

#exophilia #werefox #terato #monster x reader #x reader

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robby-bobby-tommy · 11 months

Text

Well, ig it's time for me to talk about one of my favorite lores and streamers at this point.

Fit MC of 2B2T and his tragedy.

Honestly, when I watched the launch of QSMP I was full on Philza watcher. I never knew Fit before, but I was charmed by his voice, humor and friendship with crow father. And honestly I never even expected any lore from him, so when his first lore stream happened I was pleasantly surprised! So, I really want to express how much I love Fit's lore. It's not in your face and has a lot of subtle hints and build up. Honestly, it's not an essay but rather an expression of true admiration of masterful story telling in form of incoherent ramblings.

(I'll try to compose it, but I can't promise it'll always be coherent)

So let's start with quick review of his lore. FitMC of 2B2T is, evidently from the oldest anachy server. It's described as wasteland, where you can't trust or be trusted. Once he was approached by a person, whom Fit can't remember. It was a contractor who sent our favorite war criminal to the Qsmp with a mission to steal player data. Everything up from there is in vods.

Well, it is a great start, isn't it? At this point we have a very sad start. Practically no trust and emotional connection to anything. The eternal destruction, explosions, deaths and betrayals don't teach you anything different. So once he came to the server, I imagine, Fit didn't care about anything but mission. Player data and that's all, but right from the start this mindset started to change because of the greatest misfortunes of any mercenary or a 2b2t player. Emotional connection.

So now let me break this up into some sections.

Philza: you really thought I won't bring him up? As a greatest (platonic) Fitza/Wallflower duo enjoyer or just a Phil watcher, I couldn't leave him out of this post. I really think that Fit's learning started with crow father. From the start we know that they're at least are acquaintances. But throughout all this months they grew into something more. Philza's trust is hard to get, but if you get it this'll be worth it. Yet Fit got it. Throughout the good old days of Qsmp, when everything was easier, Fitza always were together. No matter was it a life threat or a camping trip with kids, they're with each other. Trusting to each other enough to letting each other in eggs' homes. And after feces hit the fan, it didn't change. A person, who was taught to never trust a soul and to survive no matter what, was standing there, saying "I'm with you, Phil" In the midst of attack. The trust between them is just incomprehensible. A paranoid hardcore survivor and a war criminal, with a lot of secrets and separetion anxiety, became best friends. If anything goes South for Phil, Fit'll be spying, controlling situation. If a wise crow ever starts loosing his sense of reality, this soaked in blood hand will lay on his shoulder, reassuringly. And it isn't one sided. If Fit needs anything Philza instantly passes him it ("You're too good to me"). Phil shares everything he can with Fit and even trusted the Dream to him. And Fit even had a small separation anxiety attack, just cuz Phil was gone for a few seconds. They are so close, Fit even considered letting in Phil on his purpose, Aaaaah... They're gonna be the death of me. Philza learned Fit friendship/ platonic love.

"You [Phil] and I [Fit].... We walk into churches and they burn just by our presence."

Ramon: the baby boy made in heaven by God himself. There's so much to be said here. Once again, coming into the island, Fit never expected to connect with someone, especially to have a son. After having a rocky relationship with Spreen was left one on one with a child. The absurdity of situation is just as laughable, as ironic. A man, who's hobby was killing kids with no back thought, was now stuck with a child, having no idea of how to raise him. And, honestly, he did pretty good! He gave Ramon freedom, but always was here, close enough to help if needed. Of course he wasn't the saint, yet he always tried to be as honest as he could, even letting him on the "Family secret". Ramon loves his dad, and it's obvious by how he helps Fit with his job, building him a communication with his contractor. The little one even taught this cold person to be kinder and more open. They only have each other. And Fit is ready to do anything if it means he'd get to leave with his baby boy by his side. Also I don't wanna hear a scrap about 2b2t historian not caring about his son's disappearance. He does. After behaving and distancing himself from his past antics, he decided to burn the ship, where Ramon lost his first life, just to avenge his baby. He visits his sons house every stream, looking if maybe he came back. If you want any prove of how much they care about each other search Ramon's graduation. They made each other better and their love is just aaahhh. I love them. Ramon taught Fit parental love.

"Baby boy, made in heaven, by God himself.."

PacTW: the last, but not least, Pacman himself. Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy.... Now, I haven't watched a lot of their interactions, but from all I've seen they're suuuuper in love/crush. All those little glances to each other, protection, quality time... Honestly, I think these two videos explain everything. They trust each other and at least have a crush on each other. And once again, there're a lot of small moments that prove this point. Fit having a small panic attack over not seeing pac for a few seconds and even helping to find Walter Bob and Mike. And Pac, no matter how much he loves Mike, didn't drop Fit after the latter was accused of being a traitor. Love is blooming, and even though it's "baby steps" These are still steps. It takes a lot to relearn trust and especially this kind of intimacy, when all you knew before was war, betrayal and lie. And thus Pac taught him love and trust.( I'm not big on shipping but every time hide duo hug my life gets a little better).

"Baby steps, chat. Baby steps. (Puts roses Pac gifted him)"

But, why did I call Fit and his fate tragic, and then just list all the good interactions Qsmp gave him. After all he experienced at 2b2t , this island seems like a heaven. But, Fit was, is, and forever will be stranger at the paradise (this man is way too good at presenting lore. Even music gives us soo much things to think about... I love it.). No matter how much Fit loves people around him and feels this being reciprocated, he'll never have this full closure. He knows and believes that once everyone knew his mission, they'll hate him. Even people I listed before. He'll never be fully honest with anyone (apart from Ramon), and no matter how people love him. Fit truly feels for Baghera, when she told him about her past and her fear of telling it to BBH. It is literally what he struggles with. This dialogue has a lot of good foils and parallels. The fear of their past, full trust/ forced lie, darkness/ light, and eventually positive outlook. Baghera was eventually able to trust Bad with her secret, yet Fit wasn't. But this paradise spoiled this war criminal. It made him more trusting, more social. Fit can't now be alone, cuz he connected with people. This server, though is full of secrets, lies and danger, is still a paradise. A heaven on earth for a lonely man...

So the last part of this long ahh post is about his desire. The one thing that convinced Fit to go to qsmp. Freedom. Which he doesn't have. By making this deal with Contractor he fell into the trap. He must to find this player data, or else he'll return to the world he tried to escape. For forever. With no way out. But once he came to the server, Cucurucho will never let him go. So he's now in double trap. Yet the biggest trap is Ramon. He's prepared to sacrifice everything for his baby boy, and can't leave the island without him. And without Ramon Fit wouldn't be able to contact the contractor. So in creating connections, Fit traps himself further.

I can't really call it a character analysis, but it's all I see in Fit's lore. A very lonely war criminal, that got so tired of distrust and destruction, that he agreed on a spy mission. But once his mission started he learned how to love and care, that he trapped himself further. Love isn't a miracle that saves you, but it's a very useful tool. Once you learn to understand and reciprocate it, life may become better. (Sorry, it's super cheesy, but I think it encompasses Fits character very good) .

Fit is a spy. They're not supposed to have a family and love, because they can't stay for long. And I think at first, Fit saw everything and everyone as just a means to an end. Just the player data. But after all that has passed he can't be the same. He has a son, friends and a possible love interest. Will he be able to still continue his mission? Will he still betray them and they're trust? I don't know.

But I now I love how cc! Fit does his lore. It isn't so in the face and doesn't affects other, yet it is so layered. Everything is so important down to the music choice aaaaagh. I don't even pretend to analyse everything in his lore like contractor, memory loss, head aches and ect.

I just love it. It's marvelous.

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