#and what materials are used where and why

[etz-ashashiyot]

Generally radicalized people are radicalized for a reason: their radicalization does something for them and/or they believe that their desire to reshape society in a way that they believe will fix things does something for them. The key to deradicalizing them, then, is to figure out what that need is and fill it with something else.

Most of the time, people don't actually want rivers of blood, they want justice for wrongs that they feel aren't being heard.

Most of the time, they don't actually hate [X] minority - they don't even know anyone of that minority! They hate the false strawman version of that minority that is completely detached from reality, but that's been sold to them as the source of their problems.

And most people are honestly kinda lazy, lol. They are not going to physically fight for their fucked up ideas unless either (1) they are backed into a corner and literally must, or (2) they get swept up as part of a larger mob where the bully mentality takes over and the few people leading it decide to turn it into a violent mob.

So you gotta suck the wind out of their sails.

This works best if they are in or adjacent to your own communit(ies), because you will have more insight into what this is doing for them.

For the goyische leftists that have been radicalized into Jew hate lately, it's a combination of things. It's a feeling of powerlessness as the world slides rapidly towards fascism and climate crisis. It's the ghosts of unaddressed colonialism that they are choosing to impose their emotional catharsis on this unrelated and falsely analogous situation to enact what they feel would be just in their own society on people safely half the world away. Why there? Well, it's because it's a very small area with all of the culturally significant places that they grew up hearing about from the Bible in church, so it carries emotional weight. Most importantly, both parties are small and neither party has much international power to stop them, so they are able to impose their own narrative on the situation and speak over everyone actually there. Anyone who tries to correct them is drowned out. And, it's the history of Soviet antisemitism that is baked into the DNA of most western leftist movements and which Jews have never had the numbers or power to force them to actually confront.

Jew hatred is extremely convenient and Jews have been murdered in large enough numbers that we are easy to talk over.

Now usually, when you start pointing these things out, and especially when you start pointing out how ineffective and self-serving their "activism" on behalf of Palestinians is, they are too radicalized to do anything but react emotionally. They will spit out talking points, but none of these things actually address any of the above. They usually just devolve into "but but, Israeli war crimes!!" like it's a talisman against accurate allegations of antisemitism.

Why won't they listen to reason? When you show them how what they're saying is literal Nazi propaganda with the swastikas filed off and "Zionists" being used as a stand-in for Jews while they simultaneously vociferously deny any connection between Jews and Zionism? Why won't they take any accountability for their bigotry? Why won't they, at a minimum, listen to the Palestinians who want peace even if they won't listen to Jews advocating for the same thing?

It's because then they would have to give up the major benefits that they've been reaping from this situation: the social capital, the excuses to act out, the glow of feeling totally righteous in their fury, the catharsis - and trade it for the extremely unappealing process of actually becoming a decent person and a better advocate for their cause. It's hurting people they don't care about and they have a whole lot of organizations and institutions and people with actual power who materially benefit from their misdirected anger stoking the flames, and helping them lie to themselves that they are actually helping someone besides themselves and the handful of true beneficiaries behind the conflict.

They are being used.

And in twenty years they'll wake up and realize that they spent their youth shouting Nazi and Stalinist slogans of hatred that only benefitted right-wing hawks on both sides who make actual money and power off this conflict at the expense of two persecuted minorities. But they will be ashamed and will bury that behavior underneath silence and excuses.

This happens in every generation, by the way. Every 70 - 100 years, people find a socially plausible reason to hate and kill Jews because it is easier than standing up to the people with actual power. We are people they know they can hurt, and so long as they lie to themselves about who they're hurting and why, it feels really good.

Overcoming that directly has never worked.

It doesn't work because catharsis and punching down or laterally feels productive and owning their biases and bigotry and developing practical long-term strategies is tedious and often feels like shit.

What I've seen real activists do is to address the need for catharsis, praise, and to feel useful in other ways, because they are often less attached to the specific lowest hanging bigoted fruit and more in the rewards it gives them.

If we want to see this change, yelling at leftists that they're being bigoted morons feels good (productivity! feeling a sense of reclaiming control and power from helplessness! catharsis! We are not immune to these human needs either) but it's counterproductive. You don't convince a toddler to give up the shiny dangerous toy by trying to just snatch it away - if anything, you've now cemented this as an epic struggle for all time against the cold, cruel, injustices of the parental controls. No, you have to give them a new, safer toy.

My position is that if we want to see movement on this, we need to suck it up, stop yelling at the radicalized, and start finding ways to help Palestine that both feel gratifying and are actually pro-peace.

And, for the true sick fucks who really do want rivers of Jewish blood (and if a bunch of Gazans are martyred in the process, oh well)? That's where we need our true allies to help us fight back the most. This type of person will never respond to anything but power, so they will back down if they feel that they are truly threatened. To get the rest of the fair weather friends on board, we need to show how these violent tantrums are actually threatening their new catharsis, gratification, and progress so that they aren't swayed by the bullies and instead want to guard their new emotional investment and moral high ground.

Ultimately, we all want to feel like we're the good guys. We want catharsis. We want instant gratification. We want to see movement. We want justice for the wrongs committed against us and those we choose to see ourselves in community with. Many of us have real-world serious grievances that are intractable and that we don't have the individual power to fix, but are intolerable as things currently stand. These people aren't special; they aren't different from us and we aren't different from them in those ways. The problem is that activism - real activism that actually moves the needle - will typically not give you that satisfaction or meet those needs, and most people don't have the mental space to meet those needs in a better way, so punching laterally becomes the quick fix solution. Meanwhile, the people in actual positions of power benefit from this gladiator fight.

And until actual activists reckon with that reality, we are going to see more and more of the same.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Seven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

tw: everyone’s confused asf, spooky dream sequence, pistol whipping (you guys are not prepared for the next chapter i promise you. im looking at YOU masky girls)

Masky had to applaud you.

You really put on quite a show.

He wasn’t like Hoodie, he didn’t intend on watching Toby screw your brains out. Masky wanted to observe you. He wanted to understand why Tim chose you. Why all of his fantasies and plans were now centered around you. Tim’s infatuation was bad enough, but Toby’s, Brian’s, and Hoodie’s? Masky couldn’t handle it. He needed to understand not only their emotions, but his own.

His protectiveness of you came slowly and unexpectedly. He couldn’t understand what came over him in the kitchen that day, snapping at Brian the way he did. Not like it was necessarily his fault anyway. Hoodie had particular habits, ones that Masky found distasteful. Or better said, fucking disgusting. Masky watched over you in your apartment, Hoodie and Toby passed out in the living room. He watched you as you slept, your face delicately presenting peace and joy.

Your expression only made Masky angry. How could you be so blissfully oblivious? So unaware? He was a trained killer standing over you. They all were. Out of the three of them Masky would give you the quickest death. He could do it now, with no interruptions. Although you were intriguing, you were a flight risk. After Nova’s outburst they now knew where her office was. You were no longer useful. Disposable. For your own good he had to think this way. He slid his hand into his jacket, his fingers wrapping around his all too familiar revolver.

Masky rose the gun, holding its end to your head.

He froze as you shuffled in your sleep, rolling over. He was now facing the back of your head, annoyance washing over him. He needed to see your face. He needed to do this. He trudged to the other side of your bed, gripping the metal in his hand. With his hands at his sides, your eyes slowly blinked open. Masky quickly held the gun behind his back, alarmed at your sudden awakening.

“Tim?” You mumbled. Nervously Masky discreetly shoved his gun into the back of his jeans. You yawned, rubbing one of your eyes. “Cmere,” You murmured. You reached forward, grabbing one of Masky’s wrist and attempting to drag him towards you. He stumbled as he allowed you to pull him forward. “What are you doing?” Masky whispered, cautious of his partners waking up. After all, he had left your bedroom door open. You sleepily tried to tug his wrist again. “Come cuddle,” You requested, your eyes shut and consciousness barely awake. Masky’s eyes widened, fear washing over him.

“I uh, I don’t think so princess,” He huffed awkwardly. He yanked him hand away. A whine escaped your lips, similar to the sound of what Masky thought to be a kicked puppy. “Why notttt?” You groaned. You threw your comforter away, your body only now covered by a thin sheet. Masky could see the outline of your curves through the thin material. He swallowed, his adams apple bobbing visibly. “Well that’s because I um, had a different plan,” Masky said, scrambling to put together words. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, the killer beside you visibly nervous.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You asked softly. He watched the way your lips curled up in a flirtatious smile. Masky wasn’t the type to feel flustered. He hadn’t felt that way in ages and he was in absolute denial you were making him feel that way now. “There’s a late night cupcake store down the street. I wanted to take you to it,” Masky rambled. He hoped he was right, only having seen the shop once in a newspaper ad. You sat up, your hair frizzy and tangled. “Alright just let me get dressed,” You hummed, stretching your arms. Masky quickly walked out of the room. Somehow the idea of seeing you naked made him flustered, despite him having seen you get literally fucked the day before.

Masky felt conflicted. He wanted to protect you but he also wanted to put a bullet through your skull. Why was that? Was the solution to every problem really killing someone? His mind was in a whirl wind. How long had he been thinking this way for? It wasn’t that Masky was afraid of killing people. That’s why he was created after all. His lack of fear and rough exterior was leader material, the kind The Operator needed to evoke out of Tim. Yet you, with your bubbly personality and caring nature. Masky had never wanted necessarily anything. He didn’t have wants. He was designated to lead and kill targets. But yet, he finally had something he wanted. He didn’t want to kill you.

You had thrown your hair in a lazy ponytail, dressed in sweatpants and a wife beater (Masky could’ve swore was Toby’s). “Ready?” He whispered, careful to not wake up Toby or Hoodie. Masky knew The Operator was getting close and closer to them. His and Hoodie’s ability to front for so long clear evidence. The only thing Masky could hope was that he was observing them and them alone, not you. He hadn’t shown any signs of interest in you. You hadn’t mentioned anything out of the ordinary. As far as Masky was concerned, you were in the clear. You nodded, the two of you quietly exiting your apartment.

Once you both started walking on the side of the street, you shoved your hands in your pockets. Masky noticed your lack of a bra, the cold winter air causing your nipples to be perky. “So, late night munchies?” You asked. Masky didn’t look your way, avoiding accidentally looking at your breast. “Huh?” Masky hummed. He noticed your breath was visible when you exhaled. What was it with you and your refusal to wear jackets? “I assumed you ate an edible or something. It’s two in the morning. No one craves cupcakes that badly,” You say. You tried to ignore the goosebumps dancing across your skin. Masky hummed, digging in his pocket for his box of cigarettes.

“I have insomnia. I never sleep, ever,” Masky said flatly. You raised your eyebrows, watching him fish out his box of cigarettes. “Ever? That’s not humanly possible,” You told him. Masky refrained from rolling his eyes. Yeah, not a lot of things in his life were supposed to be humanly possible. “Maybe one to three hours at a time every few days,” Masky estimated, bringing his cigarette to his lips. The two of you continued down the sidewalk, your bedroom shoes causing you to shuffle against the pavement. “That doesn’t sound healthy,” You commented. Masky glanced over at you as he lit his cigarette, your shaking from the cold visible.

“Neither is your absolute denial to wear a jacket,” Masky grumbled. He sighed, sliding off his mustard jacket and holding it out to you. “What-? I can’t-” You began. Masky shoved it at your chest, cutting you off. “Shut up and put on the damn thing,” He huffed. You did as instructed, the jacket oversized on you. You zipped up the zipper, looking over at your companion. “Thanks Tim,” You say softly. Masky inhaled his cigarette, a sense of relief washing over him as the tobacco swirled around his lungs. “Dont mention it princess,” He muttered. The two of you walked in silence for a moment, the streets empty and street lights dim.

A street light was in your way, causing you to step closer towards Masky to continue walking straight. Masky stumbled over his own feet, flustered by your unexpected closeness. “Sorry,” You murmured. You couldn’t understand why Tim was acting so weird. Masky sighed, realizing the inevitable. If they were to stay, you were going to have to know. About him and Hoodie at the very least. Toby’s schizophrenia and CIPA. His tourette’s was obvious. You didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe you’d be fine with everything else too. The more Masky thought about it, you’d need to know everything if they were to stick around.

Kate. The Operator. The Proxy Symbol and what it truly meant.

You seemed loyal. Maybe it would go over well. Maybe they’d be able to have something nice for once.

You both reached the bakery, Masky digging in his pocket and handing you a wad of bills. “Just get me a vanilla one,” He told you. Hesitantly you took the cash, eyeing it suspiciously. You wanted to ask why they didn’t have credit or debit cards. Or why they always seemed loaded with straight cash. Instead you nodded once you noticed Masky’s raised eyebrow. Masky continued to smoke his cigarette outside of the shop, the bell ringing as you opened the shops door. His gaze landed on Davidson Park, which sat across the street from the little strip of shopping centers.

He couldn’t help but remember Tim’s softness with you. Masky would’ve kissed you right then and there if it had been him. He exhaled the smoke, watching it drift away in the night air. His eyes narrowed as he was able to make out a figure in between the trees. He straightened his back as he stared at the ominous figure. He inhaled, taking a singular step forward on the sidewalk. The moment his foot hit the pavement, a wave of static crashed over him. He could hear it all around him, his cigarette falling out of his fingertips.

The bakery’s little bell chimed, breaking him out of his shocked trance. Masky quickly turned around, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “We need to go home, now,” He said roughly. You glanced over your shoulder, not understanding the rush. In your hands you held a box with your cupcakes, your fingers now wrapped around the pink container tightly. “I-I got you vanilla with buttercream icing, I hope that’s alright,” You stuttered, the brunettes suddenness catching you off guard. His arm was around your shoulders in an assertive manner, forcing you to continue walking.

Paranoid, Masky continued to look over his shoulder. The static wasn’t fading. He looked down at you, your doe eyes widened with fear. It made Masky stop dead in his tracks. “You can hear that, can’t you?” He asked. You nodded affirmatively. You wanted to tell him everything, his arm now forcing you to continue walking once more. It didn’t matter who, what, where, why, or how. The Operator was interested in you. He had shown his interest loud and clear. He didn’t need to communicate, Masky knew the pattern. This is how it started. He wasn’t having it.

The Operator couldn’t have you. He wouldn’t allow it. Swiftly Masky steered you both off of the path from your apartment, down a dark alley. “Tim what’s going on? I’m scared,” You say, your voice cracking. Masky was beginning to panic. He began to walk behind you, the Operators static growing closer and closer. He reached around and grabbed his gun, yanking the metal piece out of his pants.

“I’m so sorry.”

And with that, everything around you screeched to a sudden halt. Your vision went black, your senses slipping away with it.

\/

Your bare feet stood in freshly cut grass, the bright green field around you stretching on for miles. Your hair flew around with the soft warm breezes as they danced past you. You looked around, your skin soaking in the sunshine as it beamed down on you. The warmth was comforting, your body seemingly in a state of bliss. The sound of footsteps made you turn around, the four people you cared about most before you. Your white sundress swayed in the wind as your eyes soaked in the scene.

On the left stood Tim, Brian, and Toby. They stood side by side, unmoving. They were dressed as they usually were, Toby giving you a small wave. To your right stood Nova, the circles from around her eyes vanished. She looked just as happy as she was before the Winston case. “Nova?” You say. You went to take a step towards her, an invisible force preventing you from taking a step towards her. You raised your hand, pressing it against the see through force field. “What is this?” You whispered. You marched over to the boys, walking straight into another invisible force field.

You yelped as you rubbed your nose, a few drops of blood noticeable on your fingertips. “Thats not from the force field,” Brian stated plainly. Your eyebrows furrowed as an impossibly tall figure stepped into view. It walked between Nova and the boys, its hands laced behind its back. You estimated its height to be around eight feet tall, at least. A suit decorated its eerily human like body, its skin as white as snow. You began to walk backwards, tripping over your own feet as your gaze landed on its face. The shape of a human head shaped its skull, no facial features visible.

Swallowing, you tried to make sense of the creature. There was no nose, eyes, ears, mouth, hair. Any human like details beyond its body shape seized to exist. “W-who are you?” You stuttered. The creature seemed to walk with ease, its black business shoes crunching the grass below it. You recognized the shoes as the ones that stood outside of your bathroom stall. “I go by many names. The Operator. Slenderman. I am a tale as old as time. You may call me whichever you please.” The creature informed you. Its voice was deep and assertive, the sound echoing through out your mind.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening, falling backwards onto the grass. You noticed the color fading, a dull gray beginning to take its place. “What do you want?” You asked. You tried to crawl backwards, the Operator placing its shoe in between your exposed legs. You watched frozen in terror as the Operator reached down, his freakishly long fingers wrapping around the collar of your sundress.

“You.”

/\

You shot up, the beeping of the hospital monitor flooding your ears. “Woah woah woah slow down. Hey it’s okay,” Novas soft voice cooed. You looked over, your brain processing your surroundings. Wires and needles protruded your skin, oxygen tubes hooked into your nose. “What the fuck,” You muttered. A hospital gown covered your otherwise naked body, your head throbbing. The shooting pain made you cringe, your hand flying to the back of your head. “You need to lay back down, here,” Nova instructed. She grabbed a pillow from the end of the bed, propping it underneath your head.

“What am I doing here?” You asked. Your throat was unusually dry, your lips cracked. Nova brushed a stray hair behind your ear, giving you a sorrowful look. “I couldn’t tell you. You’ve sustained a head injury of some sort. I got a call that you were lying in front of the doors. Doctors want to think you fell then crawled here,” She explained. You swallowed, trying to moisturize your throat to talk. “What do you think?” You asked cautiously. For the first time it looked like Nova had slept, a large oversized cream sweater and black jeans protecting her from the powerful ac of the hospital room.

“My opinion? You look like you got pistol whipped in the back of the head,” Nova told you honestly. Her chocolate eyes were full of worry. The memories began to slowly come back to you. Tim. The cupcakes. The static. Tim’s panic. The alley. “Do you have any recollection of anything at all? You know we can investigate this for you,” Nova reassured you. She propped herself up on the side of the hospital bed, giving your hand a squeeze. You returned it, licking your cracked lips. “You have enough going on with the Winston case. Besides, I probably did trip and fall,” You say slowly. In the background you could see a clock on the wall, the time three in the morning.

“Wait, how long have I been here?” You questioned. Nova gave you a sad smile. “About five days. They did a bunch of scans and stuff. They said everything looks normal. Recovering is just going to be a bitch,” She said, giving you a half smile. Your face twisted in horror at her answer. Your head was throbbing, the pain making it hard to think. “Five days? I’ve gotta go,” You say. You attempted to get up, Novas firm hands landing on your shoulders. “You need to rest is what you need to do,” She insisted, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your eyes flickered around the room, noting her bag was the only sign someone else had been there.

“Have the boys been here? Toby? Brian? Tim?” You asked. Nova cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. She readjusted your blanket, ensuring it covered you. “I haven’t seen them,” She answered quietly. Your brain felt like it was spinning. “Well maybe they came by when you weren’t here,” You rattled off. Nova shook her head. “Sweetheart I hate to break it to you but i’ve been here from the moment the hospital called me. I haven’t seen any sign of them,” She told you. You needed to get out of there. You needed to get back to your apartment. To curse Tim out. To punch him.

But you knew under Nova’s watchful eye you’d never be able to. You nodded. “Okay. That hurts, but okay,” You say as calmly as you can muster. Nova slid off of the bed, giving your hand one last squeeze. “Your stay here has helped me get some sleep you know. Good call,” She joked. You gave her a stale chuckle. The quicker she went to sleep the quicker you could make your great escape. “I’m sorry about your hitchhikers. But at least you’ll always have me,” She said softly. You froze as she placed a kiss on your forehead, the same spot Tim did. What was that? Nova had never been so affectionate before.

You tried to act nonchalant as she pulled away, returning to a guest chair she was curled in before. “I’m right here if you need me, just holler,” Nova told you. You watched as she curled up into a ball, tugging her blanket towards her. “Goodnight Nov. Thanks for being here,” You say. Once Nova shut her eyes you kept an eye on the clock. It was about 3:20, your mind now wide awake. You were overloaded with thoughts. Many about Tim, but also your nightmare. Was the Operator behind all of this? The symbol? You glanced over at Nova, who for once looked peaceful as she drifted off to sleep.

Something was wrong. Besides the fact you were pretty sure Tim knocked you out, you couldn’t get your nightmare out of your head. You understood why Nova was there. She was investigating the symbol. But what about Toby, Brian, and Tim? Why were they there? A chill ran up your spine as you quietly yanked the needles out of your arm. You had a creeping suspicion that Nova was right about your hitchhikers all along. Would they really do that? Use you for information? Kill Winston? You quietly slipped out of bed, grabbing your previously discarded clothes.

They wouldn’t do that to you, right? Right? There was only one way to find out.

[georgiapeach30513]

How I'm Looking At You, Part 2

Summary: so many secrets

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  conversations about sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You walk towards the clothes section of the store. Having to make sure that there wasn’t anyone watching you, especially him. You swear his intensity broke you out in a sweat. He is the cause of your clammy hands, and you still haven’t come down from the car ride. You’d sent him on a mission with a list to get some things you needed, and you are on a separate mission. One that you didn’t want to get caught doing. You figured you could shoo him away while he gave you his card and you could pay.

Yeah, of course that makes more sense in theory, but you’d be willing to try to get him to trust you enough. Your eyes look over the different colors, patterns, materials, and shapes. All the shapes. What did it mean? Being at this store where there is food, nobody would ever question why someone dressed like you was here. People from your community just didn’t usually venture to this section, but would Ari? No. For some reason you think Ari would keep a lot of secrets for you.

Ehh, that didn’t sound good. You have secrets now. Secrets with Ari. You smile, grabbing up a pack quickly. You have secrets with Ari. And what did it all mean? He mentioned pleasure. Which is a sin. Pleasure of what? The flesh? You’d heard that before, but aren’t sure what it means. Something you aren’t supposed to do. But with Ari it seems — welcome? Unwelcome? No, it was welcome. It made your heart beat funny, but you liked it.

And what did that even mean? You feel tingly all over, and it was all you could do to bolt out of the truck and create some space between the two of you. What are these feelings? Why did all that happen? That was all new, and it felt like you couldn’t control anything, especially your body. But you couldn’t even control the way you’re speaking.

“Is that what you’re choosing for me to buy for you?” It is him standing there like a walking sin mixed with a brick wall, complete with a big beautiful smirk on his face as he lifts up the pack. “Or are you just needing new panties?”

Your eyes go wide as you look at the floor, and shake your head. Heat radiates all over your body, pooling in your cheeks, and your panties. Every time you get around him there’s definite heat streaming from your belly to your nether regions.

“Surely these aren’t the type of panties you wear under there?” You shake your head no, still refusing to look up at him. Ari grimaces. He’s not used to being around a woman so timid. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But do you really think you should go with thongs? And a pack of them? If you want panties I can order them for you online, no one would have to know.”

“Online,” you respond dumbly for reasons you just don’t understand. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want people to know you wear these kinds of underwear?” You shake your head no again. His boots are dirty. That’s all you are learning from where you’re looking. Dirty boots. “Can you look at me? I won’t bite,” it feels like you’re swallowing swords as you gulp, and lift up to look at him. “There, now are these the panties you want me to buy you?”

You nod your head, eyes flitting around the store, and thankfully there still wasn’t people around. “Are these what you really want?” You shrug. You really had no clue. Anything had to be better than the non elastic nonsense you are wearing. “Do you need them right now?”

“Not really, but…”

“Okay, I’ll get some here, and if you want me to pick you out some to have delivered to my house, I can do that.”

“I can’t take them home,” Ari grins, and turns to walk back to the packs of panties, while you nervously watch around. “What are you doing?”

“I feel you jumping into thongs, while they’d be very sexy on you, especially if I was the only one who knew what you have hiding under that dress,” Ari clears his throat, drifting through the selection before grabbing a pack. “Thongs are a big step. Let’s do baby steps with bikinis, yeah?”

“You won’t say anything?” He shakes his head no, tossing them into your cart, and yawns. “We should be getting back, um…”

”You go onto the truck. It’ll be our secret,” you are getting a lot of secrets between you and Ari. You’re not even sure if this is a good or bad thing. But you like having secrets with him. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Shh, don’t tell anyone,” he grins as you trot away. He feels slightly guilty. Only a little teeny tiny bit. He’ll buy you every pair of panties that you want him to, as long as you show him. Maybe even one day have you modeling them for him. Or even better, let him push them into your mouth, so you don’t get to loud when he’s fingering you.

“Sir!”

Ari looks up at the cashier. How did he even get here? He was just in a world of his own thinking about you being all submissive and wet for him. So wet. So incredibly soaked for him. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Didn’t you come in with that Amish woman?”

“No,” he answers too quickly as she scans the pack of panties. He would never be buying you anything here again. You deserve the best. Silk, satin, lace. Not those. She starts scanning again, continuing to focus her eyes on him. You deserve specialty panties. Always the best.

“You know that they don’t integrate people like us into their world, right?”

“You know you should really mind your fucking business and just ring up my shit,” the girl looks back down at the items, shocked that Ari was so blatantly rude. But she is the one that was rude. How dare she ever say something about you. She didn’t know you at all. So far you had shown to be timid, yes. But you are different.

She could say what she wants about your community, but not you. You are perfection in a too large frumpy dress that he couldn’t see your curves, and he salivates knowing that nobody has seen those curves. Touched those curves. Kissed those curves. Gripped them so tightly as you come undone for the first time.

You were just looking at panties. You had a curiosity that was going to end up killing him, and he didn’t care. He wanted to nurture that side of you. Keep you growing with secrets that are just for him. Plus you are sweet, so so sweet. You probably taste sweeter. You didn’t belong here, but as long as you were here, he would respect that. And he would be here with you.

“Thanks,” he says, handing her his card. “And next time you should really think about things that you say to people. Don’t act like people’s differences aren’t beautiful.”

“Ari!” You giggle, turning back around from the sink as he walks in again. Smiling ear to ear as he walks past the kitchen. “Quit coming inside. Do you not trust me?”

“Oh, I trust you. I just have to make sure you’re doing your job right, and,” he presses a finger up against your mouth, shushing you in the process. “I need some water. So carry on,” he keeps his eyes on you as he fills a glass with water. His mouth continuing to keep a smile, while you try and give a stern look towards him.

“Darling, you have so much work to do,” he says playfully, but you don’t want to take your eyes off the tall man. “Or, we could make it an early day.”

“And do what?” He is always saying things like that, not realizing that you didn’t grasp exactly what he means by that.

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. He puckers his lips out, and looks up at the ceiling contemplating. “What do you do for fun?”

“Fun,” you awkwardly laugh a second, but it falls quickly. When was the last time you actually had fun? What are your hobbies? Something that made you, you. The bigger question is when were you allowed to have an identity that didn’t fit the mold of everyone in your community, “Hmm…”

“It should not be this hard,” he doesn’t make fun of you, he stares at you gently. It’s comforting that he isn’t judging you by decisions that were made for you, “Do you not get to have fun? Do you read? Go cow tipping? Swimming? Anything?”

“I read the Bible,” his thick finger scratches his beard for a second, staring out in thought. “We don’t tip the cows, and when I was little my dad took me fishing, but I didn’t really have friends. And there’s always so much to do on the farm, not a ton of time to do leisure activities.”

“Oh, honey,” he stands up straight, walking over to you with his arms spread out, and you gaze up at him confused. What is this gesture? “Come on, give me a hug,” you shake your head no, trying to busy yourself with the lunch dishes. “Yep. Bring it in. You now have a friend.”

“Men and women shouldn’t engage in suspicious behavior inside a house. People could think we’re being unpure.”

“And what would you know about that?” He cocks up an eyebrow, and suddenly you feel so small. You know nothing, only what you have just said. What exactly did men and women do together that is unpure? “Darling, if we were being unpure, you would not be as quiet as you’re being right now. Our clothes are on.”

“What?” You glance up at him quickly, brows furrowed. He’s such a strange man. You couldn’t quite figure out if he was joking or being truthful the majority of the time.

“Sweet summer child, if you don’t want a hug, you can say that. But if you do, and you’re just worried about what other people will say, let me know. I’ll know when to back off. They’re out on the east field and on the other side of house if that makes a difference,” it kinda did. You look towards each of the windows that are in the kitchen before very awkwardly pressing up against Ari. Another secret.

“Omph,” his arms pull you in closer. Holding you in both a soft, and still dominant way. His head rests on the top of your head, and even though he’d been outside working, he smells nice. Too nice.

“Now, isn’t this nice? Do you want to read? I could get you some books and…”

“I couldn’t take them home,” he pulls apart from you too quickly as he stares at you curiously again. It’s summer and hot, and still you want his warmth, but his curiosity is too cute to look away from. It’s a habit he has, and you don’t know how to feel about the way he observed you. No one has ever done that. Does he understand the way that he makes you feel? There are always so many questions rummaging through your mind when you’re around Ari.

“Hmm, I have a bookshelf here. Built it myself. And you could keep the books you can’t have at home there, and we can make this a fun little morning routine,” what is this man going on about a morning routine? “You’re here to fix my breakfast, shouldn’t you eat, too?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought about that. Would it be proper? No, but it is the polite thing to do, so he’s not alone. He isn’t how you expected him to be. “Are we…is this a friendship?”

“This is exactly a friendship!” Ari snaps, and you take a timid step backwards. “Sorry, no, I’m just excited you get this. We’re friends, right?”

“Well you did buy me underwear,” he purses his lips. Staring at oddly, and you start giggling. You have a sense of humor, and it’s one thing he honestly admires. Every now and then little jokes weasel their way into your conversations.

“You just made a joke,” still laughing, you nod your head, missing his face going serious. “Do they fit? If you need me to check and see if they fit, I can.”

“Are you asking to see my panties?” He is an odd man indeed. “Is this a normal thing where you come from? And if I show you mine, are you going to show me yours?”

His hand wipes across his forehead, and you think he’s feeling the uncomfort that you have felt around him. Not an uncomfort that makes you want to run away, but one that makes you want all the things he talks about. Even if they scare you. “I wouldn’t say it’s something that everyone does out on the streets, but friends can become very close. And sure, if you want to see my underwear, I can arrange that for you.”

“So yes, you want to see my panties?” He nods his head, and you’re unsure how to respond. You like being around Ari. Love it actually. He is very odd, and yet entertaining. He actually talks to you instead of averting his eyes. He cares about what you think of things, and wants you to have fun and have hobbies. Men in your life weren’t like him, or look like him, “Maybe another time though?”

“Is there something wrong?” You shake your head no. There isn’t anything wrong currently, but the longer he stares at you the more you feel that weird creeping heat bloom in your belly.

“Your farmhands are outside. They’re not my friends,” you hope he understands what you’re saying because everything inside of you is screaming that you don’t want them to know what you are wearing under your dress, or worse, see it. You’d be ruined, and your family.

“Ahh! How could I be so stupid. Okay, I will buy you some books, okay? Fill up the bookshelf. I’m sure my sister has some recommendations for you to read, and we can — I don’t know, have a regular routine, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Our secret, right?” Add another one. But breakfast with Ari, both of you reading, and conversation is minimal sounds nice. Domestic even.

“Right. Our secret. I’m gonna just go — you know, go work,” he really needs to. He’s been in here for far too long and people will wonder exactly what is up with him being around. Friend. Friend Ari. You like it.

He is going to get you books to read, and you could have a real hobby. Learn things about his world. It sounds fascinating from what little you have heard from him. You liked him. He makes you smile, and laugh. Sometimes you forgot what it was like to laugh. You were out at the general store all alone, and left to listen to those girls talk about your lack of a husband. This is comfort. And he didn’t care that you are single.

You’re unsure of how you were able to make this situation comfortable, but you did. Hmm, you have something to look forward to, and make more money. And you have a friend. Even if he is odd. He’s nice to look at, and he makes you feel…

He just makes you feel. Feeling in a world where you’ve been taught to repress all of that. It’s freeing.

Ari takes a look back at the house, and then to the horizon. It is hot. Too hot. And he can see your silhouette as you do something in the house, and he isn’t there with you. He has this pull towards you. You need teaching. He is the perfect teacher, even if he is struggling to pull the reins. He enjoys you. He didn’t dislike Jacob and the other two that he can’t be bothered with knowing their names.

But you are a completely different thing. You encompass every part of his thinking, and he is excited to wake up knowing that you are going to be here, and he gets to see you! It’s amazing to think about the fact that he has you everyday. Here in his home.

He has never been a man that cared about domestic life or having one woman or children. But even he has to admit the appeal to seeing a beautiful woman in his home on a regular basis. You have only come for a couple of weeks, and it’s a nice touch to his home. Even if there’s a small part of him that loathes the way that the women are treated here.

You thought that what you are doing right now was what you were designed to do. You had no hobbies of your own, but thanks to him, you enjoyed reading. He even caught you reading instead of ‘doing what you’re supposed to be doing’. He wants you to have a fulfilling life. And he suspects with you slightly pulling away from the life you were brought into that you feel the same way. And if he has to be the one that helps you, so be it. He’ll do what he needs to. Maybe more hobbies.

Ari stands up straight, wiping the sweat off his brow as he looks towards Jacob who steadily works. “Boys, let's call it a day.”

“Work’s not done,” Jacob continues to sow the seeds, and Ari grimaces. He didn’t care. He wants the day with them here to end. He wants private company with you, “We need the money.”

“Your pay won’t reflect the early time off,” all three of the young men stand up, gawking at Ari, and looking amongst themselves. “It’s too hot. We’re ahead of schedule. Take the rest of the day off,” they linger. Unsure if what Ari is saying is a test. He wants to shout for them to leave, but that approach didn’t seem to help.

“Do you guys go swimming somewhere? Or do anything for fun?”

“I went to a barn raising one time,” now Ari is the one that gawks at his employees. “No. We don’t.”

“Okay. Here,” reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a hundred dollar bill each handing it to the boys. “Go spend some money. This is a bonus. Just go home. Have fun. Go. Leave,” the youngest one, Joseph or Daniel or Jedidiah, walks off first, and the others join with him. “Thank you,” he whispers before turning towards the house. You could have the rest of the day off with him, and he could learn some more things about you.

Waiting for long enough for the workers to leave, he walks into the house. Slinging the door open wide, and you yelp. Running to the front door and see him smiling. “Are you okay? What happened? Is everything okay? Why are you smiling? Ari?”

Slowly he closes the door, but his smile remains. “Do I need to get you something? Are you coming down with anything?” He shakes his head no, removing his work boots. “Well, I haven’t even started your dinner, so if you could go back outside and work, I can get started.”

“Don’t worry about dinner,” you didn’t understand. He called you in to do a job, and now he isn’t allowing you to do your job. You ponder that thought a moment, watching as he walks towards his bedroom. “It’s very hot today,” you agree. It is stiflingly hot. It is days like this that make you thankful that you are the woman. “And you are in here all alone.”

You like it that way. It has given you time to think, and with your current predicament you need that time to think. His books he’s given you have left you with more thoughts, and imaginations. Oh. You gulp as Ari steps back into the main area of the house. Gone are his work clothes, and now he’s showing his legs. Long and toned, and you bite your lip trying to keep any unwanted sounds from appearing. He has that effect on you.

“About dinner.”

“Don’t care about dinner,” he is too quick for you. The men in your community didn’t look like him, and they didn’t behave like him either. They never searched for a friendship with a woman. They just have them to expand their legacy with children. Secretly hoping for a male heir so their family name lives on. “We can pick something up in town later.”

“We?” The idea is scandalous, but not unwanted. There are very few times you wished you were a woman of the world, but there’s something appealing about riding around in the truck with Ari. There has been the idea of asking him to buy your normal clothes, so maybe nobody would recognize you. You had random imagines about being a girl he actually wanted, and one that looked like she belonged in his truck. That had to be where the funny feeling in your — belly is coming from. Those imagines of his hand holding yours.

“It’s hot,” you give him a nod, he’s already said that. You had heard about the English speaking in round about ways, and right now you wish he would just be completely honest about what it is he wants instead of beating around the bush. “There’s a swimming hole way back behind my house. Care to join me?”

“I can’t swim.”

“I can teach you,” he could teach you a lot of things, but maybe swimming is a great place to start. Ari doesn’t care about the rules, the two of you have broken so many, so he just wants to see how far he can go.

“What would someone wear swimming?” preferably nothing, but that would take things way too far for you. He doesn’t even know how to respond to that because all he can envision is you in those panties he bought you that he hasn’t given you, and a bra. Again, he hasn’t given them to you, and he thinks it might be weird if you knew that he’s bought you various kinds of lingerie. “Ari?”

“There are suits. All the important parts would cover you.”

“Important parts?” Dammit. He needs to start thinking before he speaks. “So what is exposed?”

“Legs, arms, and,” you shake your head no. You couldn’t possibly show so much skin especially around a man. “Okay, how about you just go to the swimming hole with me, and I’ll swim, and you can decide what you want to do from there?”

It didn’t sound too bad. In fact sticking your feet into cool water, while you sit down and enjoy the sun makes you smile. You read about kids that played around a river. Maybe not in it. Being able to just be present and enjoy a moment of nothing never happens. You don’t really slow down in this life. “Okay,” this could be a big mistake, but you want to do it. You want to spend extra time with Ari. “I would like that,” he smiles, and you feel fuzzy again, but nowhere that you have ever felt before. Well, before Ari.

You’d noticed he really likes it when you voice your opinions to him. In this world you didn’t get to have an opinion, your husband did. But he cares about what you like, and what you don’t like. Seeing him smile makes it all worth it, and still you wonder what is happening to areas much lower than your belly. Being around him you always have that fuzzy feeling in your stomach, but when he smiles it's in unmentionable areas, and you just don’t understand. But you didn’t hate it either.

“Amazing,” he extends a hand out towards you, and you’re too tempted not to grab it, and he leads you out the back door.

“You’ve done amazing work out here,” his hand pulses around your own, and you look up at him, and he’s smiling again. He likes simple praises, you’ll do it more often, “You’re much taller than the men here.”

“I hope that’s a good thing, Darling,” that name. The name that makes things nearly unbearable. The name that you hear in your head throughout the night, and a need to do something. It’s like a scratch that needs itching, but you just didn’t know what scratch could fix this feeling, and…who would you even ask about this?

“It is,” he smiles again, and you seriously want to melt. The temperature must be getting hotter because you feel sweat beading around your hairline, and your throat dries right up, while other things start to — you can’t even mention it. It’s confusing. How does a smile create a fiery need in — areas?

The swimming hole comes into view, and Ari drops your hand. He grips the bottom of his shirt, and pulls it off in one movement, and you spin around immediately. Cheeks steaming with embarrassment, but other things…it’s so hot. He’s so — he’s so something, and you are a mess. Ari yanks down his shorts before he walks over to a deep part of the river, and jumps in.

“Darling, you can look,” he’s absurd. You can’t look at a naked man. But you want to, just because it’s an experiment. He’s a man, you are a woman. What is different on him than you?

“You’re naked, Ari,” his chuckle is so deep and haunting that you peek over your shoulder. “Ari, I can’t be around you when you’re naked.”

“I’m not naked. I’m fully clothed,” you peek more, and notice the swell of his chest poking out of the water. His hair on the amazing pillows of his chest is dripping into the water, and you whimper. He most certainly is not fully clothed. Hair pushed back off his face, and that stupid smile. And heat that you’re sure is from the pits of hell.

“Ari! Your clothes are right there,” he wades to the edge of the river, and gets out, and you spin around again. You feel so weak. He is more broad with no clothes on. Legs and arms sinewed with muscles, and his body is dripping in almost the same way as your own. “You are naked.”

“I promise I’m not. This is what the English wear to swim. You’re not seeing something other women haven’t,” oh that doesn’t sit right with you. Be brave. You spin around and fully take him in. Other women didn’t need to look at his body. He’s your employer, and if anyone deserves a right to stare, it’s you. You don’t just stare, you gaze. Taking in every part of his body. Tracing every line with your eyes, and he stands there looking like the worst temptation.

Like the time you snuck a bite of the pie before it was cooled down, and you smoothed it back out, so no one would know. Keeping that secret still to this day. But you don’t want anyone else to have him as a sin. You want him as your sin. What does that even mean? You need to ask for forgiveness, because he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You could write books and poetry about him. And you want to take your time as you discover each vein that follows along his arms, and every hill and valley that makes up his stomach and chest.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you squeak out, walking past him. It’s hard to do that, but you have to sit on the edge of the river bank. Pulling up your skirts and kicking off your shoes, you let your legs dangle enough into the water, so your toes get refreshed. Your entire body needs it. Squeezing your thighs together seems to help a little bit. But still there is an emptiness, and you want to ask him about it, but what could he possibly know?

He goes back into the river, swimming about a bit. His eyes are constantly drifting to your legs, and then your ankles, “So this is what you English people do for fun?”

“Uh huh.”

“And what does a woman wear?”

“Depends on what she’s comfortable with. Some only cover the same as panties and a bra, and some go completely nude,” what? Women swam completely nude? With other people present. “Usually that can be a fun little date.”

“Date?” You’d heard the word before, but didn’t know if you fully understood it.

“Two people just hanging out getting to know one another. Usually it’s when they’re sexually attracted to each other.”

“Sexually?” There is that word again. “What exactly is sex?” You know you’re attracted to Ari, he is perfect and beautiful, but what is sexually? Or even sex?

He takes long slow blinks, while his eyes transfix on your legs again. That stupid heat gets higher, and you rub your thighs together. This helps more than squeezing them. Your heart rate is everywhere. You’ve never felt it in every part of your body, but also…in the worst place.

“Well when two people like each other…”

“Like you and me?”

“Yes, Darling. Exactly like us. We can use us as an example,” he looks like the devil and an angel all at the same time. “When two people like each other their bodies react. Weird things happen. Heat, pulsing you feel in places you never considered before,” he looks right at your stomach. No, not your stomach. He knows. He knows exactly what your body is doing. You should ask him. You should tell him exactly what is going on.

“And…ugh, this feels almost inappropriate,” he deeply breathes, looking away so quickly you think he had to have hurt his neck.

“Just tell me.”

“For us, at least, a man and a woman, in that scenario man, me, enters into the woman, you.”

“Oh. Oh!” Okay, that makes sense. So you mate like the animals. Hmm, “On all fours?” He cringes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” you’re saying all the wrong things. How does one receive a man if not on all fours?

“Humans have a plethora of options,” he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but he also doesn’t want to feel he’s completely corrupting you either. He knows how many lines are being crossed right now.

“Are you big like a horse…everywhere?” That feels more than mildly inappropriate, but you’re the one that brought it up. Adorably you look towards the water, below his waist, and that when it hits him. His own curiosity about you builds up so hard, steel hard. His cock twitches in his boxers, knowing that you are trying to figure out his size.

“Not quite like a horse, but arousal does change things,” hmm, quite like they’re changing him now. He couldn’t show you. That would be going too far, but he knows eventually you’ll ask. You still haven’t averted your eyes away from his crotch. He wonders from your angle if you could see how hard he is. “Why are you asking?”

“I have always thought it hurts the mares. I understand it’s a part of life, and she’s only doing what she’s born to do naturally, but it just seems so invasive. And humans do this to get babies?” He shrugs, it’s much more complicated than that, and that’s not the only reason. “It just looks painful.”

“Well, look at it as it is the way it’s intended. We’re created to be made to fit together, you know?” Okay, that makes sense. “People are meant to — mate with people. I suppose not all humans are meant to fit together.”

“How do you know that you found someone that you fit easily with?”

He gets a mischievous smirk on his face, wading closer to your body. His eyes focus much too low again before he makes eye contact. “Sometimes you just have to make it fit. The first time things are a bit tighter. But with prep and time I can make it fit. The woman’s body is amazing. When she’s ready to take a man, your body preps itself. It heats up, it gets so wet and sticky, making it easier for me to enter into you.”

“Does it hurt?” You are missing all the moments he’s actually saying ‘you and him’ because you are trying to figure sex out. In order for him to mate with you, you’d both have to be naked. He is almost naked. You pull your skirts even higher, all the way up to your knees, and he looks very quickly, enjoying the lower view. And a quick glimpse at the panties he bought for you.

“You’re very curious today.”

“That means it does hurt,” he’s ignoring your question.

“So I’ve been told. I wouldn’t know from experience because I’m entering into you, but I have been told it does sting,” he’s been told. Some other woman told him it hurt, and it wasn’t you. It actually makes you angry to think about the fact another woman has seen him naked, and felt him. You should be the one feeling him. What? What are you saying? New feelings explode in your body, mixed with the anger you feel.

”Why would anyone mate for more than having children if it hurts?” And why did another woman get to see him like that? And feel him? Did she get the fuzzy feeling? Did he look at her the same way? There is no way another woman feels the same way you do about Ari.

“There’s more to sex than mating,” how is that even possible? You only saw the animals mating to procreate. “It brings two people so close, both physically and spiritually,” oh now it hurts. Another woman was not only physically close to Ari to have him inside her, but they had a spiritual closeness, too? This isn’t even jealousy anymore, this is painful.

“Not to mention the amount of pleasure that happens will bring you to your knees,” you wonder if she felt the way you did. If she had this heat coursing through her entire bones, while she got to feel him. Got to have him in a way you couldn’t even comprehend.

“It sounds like a sin, Ari. It almost sounds like you are worshiping…”

“Worshiping at the altar between a woman’s legs is like a religion,” you sigh, looking at the water instead of Ari. Worshiping idols is a sin, but you’re more concerned with the fact he was worshiping a woman that wasn’t you. He finally said it. Whatever is happening between your legs is because of Ari, and he would worship you. But he worshiped someone else, and it pains you more than anything you’ve ever felt.

You push your skirts back down, giving Ari a final goodbye nod for the day. “I should go, Ari. I’ll eat dinner at my parents’ tonight.”

“Wait,” he climbs out of the river, walking after you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” lying is a sin. He pulls you tightly against his body, hugging you, and this hug feels different. He feels…bigger. “Ari?” His hard rod pushes up against your stomach, and you feel an odd need to roll your body into his. This is so very confusing. Everything is happening at once, and it nearly blinds you in thoughts.

“Ignore it,” how can you ignore whatever is pressing up against you like that? Pulsing to the same rhythm as whatever is happening between your legs. “We’re okay?”

“It’s just a lot. And…that…” what you really want to say is crude and outlandish and you just can’t say it. You can’t let him know that you’re more scared of him now than ever. There is no way that thing would fit. And he’s worshiped between another woman’s legs, so he did fit. What if you weren’t made for each other? But he was with another woman. “Ari, I can’t.”

“Forgive me for being so outright, but not every woman makes this happen to me,” if he wasn’t holding you, you’d have sunk to your knees. Everything is so weak. There’s so many emotions and feelings, and you just want some alone time or time to explore whatever part of his body is touching you. The pulse between your legs is intense and you have a desire to ask him to help.

“It won’t fit.”

“I’m not asking to make it fit,” of course he’d say that because he has another woman. He doesn’t need you like you need him. Why are you so conflicted with everything? It’s physical and mental, and apparently spiritual.

“I’ve gotta go,” he lets his arms fall, and you dare to look. That didn’t help the feelings in your body. You have more questions. And you can’t ask any of them.

“You’ll be here tomorrow?” You give him a nod, realizing that everything feels hard on you. Even on your chest. What is happening to your body? The sweat is everywhere, and the residual water from him presses your dress around your skin, and somehow makes it feel nice. And your body is showing proof of its own changes as your nipples poke through your dress, “Okay, I’ll have some more books for you on the shelf okay? I don’t work too hard, and enjoy reading, okay?”

“Is it a sin?”

“It’ll be our secret, okay?” This is more than just the books, he’s talking about whatever this is currently happening between you two. You shouldn’t want it, but you crave it. You crave just coming to his house, and seeing him. But the idea of seeing him fully naked and pressed against you, takes your breath away.

“Our secret,” your secrets with him were adding up.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @patzammit

@theolivia-1

[oharaslove]

Miguel O'hara as a cat

word count: 6,2 k

summary: After the fight with the Lizard you are left with a cat (your boyfriend) to take care of. How hard could that be?

warnings: Miguel x !SpiderReader, minor injury, fluff??

<<Part 1

Part 2

When you stepped foot in Miguel’s office, everything was quiet. Thank god, you didn’t know how you could explain that Miguel was now a cat. You sighed in relief, one less thing off your list.

“Okay Migs” you said, talking to the now comfortable cat in your arms. “I am going to take this anomaly to the cages, so it can be shipped off, okay?”

Miguel purred in your arms. Oh, how cute was he? Obviously you couldn’t voice it out loud, because he would hiss at you and get away from your arms. Your boyfriend could be really emotional sometimes.

You walked towards Miguel’s platform, so you could sit him in his chair, while you went off to do your thing.

“Don’t touch anything Miggy.” you said sternly, knowing how workaholic he was. “You are a cat right now, so you could mess things up.” You finished petting Miguel on the head, but before you could go, Lyla popped up.

“There you are!” she greeted. “Where have you been? I thought you said this was going to be easy. The lizard isn’t that hard.”

“Excuse me?” you said, putting a hand in your chest acting offended and widening your eyes, trying to signal Miguel not to move or make any sound. “Why don’t you try it yourself, missy?” you taunted, you put your hands in your waist locking eyes with Lyla aiming to keep her attention on you, and not the cat sitting a few centimeters away.

“I can’t, remember?” she replied, placing her holographic hands in her waist, mirroring you. “I am merely an AI. There is not much I can do, physically at least.”

“Yeah well, so keep the catching of the anomalies to the professionals then.” You finished, crossing your arms over your chest and turning around.

“Where is Miguel?” she asked, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Oh, ah-” you stuttered, turning around while scratching the back of your neck. “He, he is… umm.. taking the anomaly to the cages! Yeah, that” you said, pointing at Lyla with a triumph smile in your face. Feww, that was close, you thought.

“You mean, the anomaly behind you?” Dammit!.

“Oh!” you said, pretending to be surprised, turning to look at the anomaly and back at her. “He must have forgotten it. You know, it was a really difficult fight. I am tired, he is tired, everyone is tired” you emphasized, using your hands to explain.

“Miguel is never tired” Lyla replied, lowering her glasses over her nose. Oh, she was catching onto you.

“Well, he is now” you said, crossing your arms over your chest again. “I think I know my boyfriend.”

“Girl” Lyla said, before disappearing and materializing right in front of you. “I know Miguel, and I know you. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” you said, way too abruptly, making you cringe internally.

Lyla eyed you up and down before sighing. “You know, you are an awful liar.”

“I am NOT lying.”

“So, who is this cat?” she questioned, transporting herself right were Miguel was.

“Oh, that?” you said, playing dumb. “It is just a stray that I found on the street.”

“Then, why does he have Miguel’s colors?” she kept pressing.

“Omg Lyla, I don’t know, okay?” you replied, trying to get her off your back. “He just seemed cute, so I grabbed him.”

“And Miguel was okay with this?”

“Yes!!”

“Okay” she replied.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed. Finally! You managed to trick her.

You turned around and stepped off the platform, walking towards the anomaly.

Just as you were about to grasp the anomaly to take it away, you heard a “click”. You turned around alarmed. On the platform, you saw Lyla with her holographic phone, taking pictures of Miguel.

Right there and then, Miguel snapped. He hissed at Lyla and jumped towards her, trying to catch her, at which she disappeared and appeared some meters away.

“Lyla!” you shouted, but she didn’t pay attention. She was too busy trying to run away from Miguel, who was chasing her none stop, like a cat pursues a flashlight.

“Miguel, stop!” you said, now chasing him. “You can hurt yourself! STOP!” But he didn’t listen.

“Aha!” Lyla said, between transportations. “I knew you were lying.”

“Yes! Happy now?” you replied, opening your arms. “You can’t let anyone know! You can’t share that picture.” which caught her attention.

“Why not?” she asked, looking at you, forgetting for a split second that a cat was chasing her.

Miguel took advantage of the distraction and leaped at her. Obviously, he expected to grasp something on his mouth, but he passed through Lyla, disorientating him.

You had to watch how your boyfriend flew in the air right in front of your eyes, and then lost balance mid flight. You know that saying ‘All cats fall in their feet’? well, this wasn’t the case. Miguel landed roughly into his desk, head first.

“Miguel!” you shouted, running up to him. “Are you okay?”

Miguel just meowed slowly, clearly hurt. You grabbed him in your arms, being mindful of not putting pressure in his head.

“Shhh it is okay baby” you cooed at him. “I told you to be careful.”

You stroked Miguel’s fur, aiming to calm him down, while you rocked from side to side, like holding a baby. Once you heard him purr, you kissed his head repeatedly but softly, nestling your nose with his.

The beautiful moment was interrupted by another click. You and Miguel turned your heads towards Lyla. Miguel turned in your arms, trying to get away and hissing at Lyla, showing her his fangs.

You, on the other hand, stared at Lyla with a death stare. “Lyla” you barked. “I know you think this is a joke, but it isn’t.”

Miguel was fighting hard to get out of your arms, but you weren’t risking him getting hurt again.

“Miguel, STOP!” you shouted, trying to calm him down, but with no use.

Without realizing, Miguel took his claws out, scratching you several times.

“Ouch, Miguel” you yelped, letting him go.

Miguel landed on the floor, and turned to you. You looked at your hands and arms. Your suit was cut in various parts, showing your skin below, and that wasn’t any better. Blood was coming out of the scratches Miguel had give you. They weren’t painful, per se, but they burned.

You felt Miguel rubbed his body and tail against your legs, meowing. You stepped back, making him sit on his back legs, looking hurt.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. These was going to be a loong couple of hours, you thought.

“Okay” you said, putting your hands together in front of you. “One, Lyla, you do NOT, and I hope I come off as clear, you don’t under any circumstance, post or send those pictures to ANYONE, understood?” you said sternly.

“But-”

“No Lyla!” you yelled. “No one can know Miguel is a cat. This isn’t a joke. There is an entire universe that is full of humans transformed into animals and we have to fix that” you explained.

“I get that, but what does it have to do with me sending this pictures” she said confused.

“Well, for starters, Miguel wouldn’t like that. Second, people would come and roam in this office trying to see Miguel, which would make him stress, much more that I am sure he is right now. Besides, he could hurt himself, which he just did! And that was your fault”

“If you ask me it was your fault”

“What was that?” you asked, clearly pissed.

“Nothing”

“That’s what I thought” you finished, breathing slowly through your nose. “Lyla, keep watching Miguel, don’t let him do anything. I am going to take this anomaly to the 'Go Home Machine' and then I’ll come and start working on a device to get those people and Miguel back, okay? Lock the doors as soon as I walk out” you stared at Lyla, waiting for a confirmation. She simply nodded, before disappearing into thin air.

You sighed. You loved Lyla, but sometimes she was too much.

“Come here Migs” you beckoned the cat.

Miguel walked towards you, before standing into his back legs and stretching himself towards you. You picked him up slowly, cradling him in your arms. He stared at you lovingly, and started licking your arms, where your wounds were.

“Migs, I know that you are trying to help, but your tongue is rough” you said, giggling, and kissing his head. “You have to stay here, alright? Promise me.”

He looked at you and meowed, before headbutting you on the lips. You kissed him before gently putting him on his desk.

“I’ll be back.” you said.

You rushed to get the anomaly back home, hoping no one dared entered Miguel’s office. The odds were in your favor on your way to the ‘Go Home Machine’ because no one stopped you or asked for Miguel, but on your way back….

“Hey girl!” Jess said.

“Oh, hi Jess.” you replied, wiping the sweat out of your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked concerned. “You seem kind of in a rush.”

“Oh no.” you answered, shaking your hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.”

“Does Miguel have you running errands for him?” she questioned, placing her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow.

“Miguel? Who mentioned Miguel?” you hurried to get out, maybe too quickly, making Jess look at you weirdly. “Miguel is fine, in his office, as always. You know how he is.” You punched Jess’ shoulder lightly and laughed, trying to calm yourself down and convince her that everything was fine.

“Are you sure you are fine?”

“Yeah yeah, one hundred percent. Just a little tired.” you explained, putting a hand on your chest. “Oh! If you could get this information around. Miguel is doing something really important in his office, so no one can enter. And, also, all messages directed to him must come to me. He doesn’t want to be bothered. You know how grumpy he gets, hehe” you finished, giggling out of stress. You needed to get back, Miguel could be hurt again.

“Okay…. ” Jess said, clearly suspicious. “If you need help with anything, let me know.”

“For sure, yeah. Thank you Jess!” you exclaimed, running off to Miguel’s office.

Once you shut down Miguel’s office door, you let out a sigh. Keeping everyone out was easy, the thing was convincing the thousand something employees that his leader was okay and working. On top of bringing Miguel and all that city back to normal, you had to fill Miguel’s shoes, and you knew how hard that was.

Thankfully, Miguel was still where you had left him, the only difference being he was in deep sleep.

“Ohh Migs” you whispered, lifting your hand slowly to pet him. He was adorable, snoring lightly with his tongue out, sprawled out on the desk. He deserved to rest.

“Lyla” you whispered. The AI appeared right in front of you, without making a sound, clearly not wanting to piss you off like before.

“I’m going to go back to the dimension where the Lizard was” you explained, voice barely above a whisper. “His weapon exploded, but maybe there are parts that help me undo this. Take care of Miguel, and if anyone calls, redirect it to me.”

You used your gizmo to open a portal and went through. Thankfully, you remember where the fight took place. Once you reached a building near the street where you defeated the Lizard, you saw how a lot of animals roamed the streets, scared and helpless. The remaining humans weren’t any better.

Okay, one issue at the time you thought. You jumped off the wall to a near top of a car, so everyone could see you.

“Hi! Everyone?” you shouted, trying to sound confident, but failing miserably. Talking in public wasn’t one of your strengths. “I know all of you are concerned and scared, but I assure you than me and my team..” well just me you thought “… are doing everything in our power to get everything back to normal.”

“And who are you?” someone shouted in the crowd.

“I’m a superhero, you don’t have to be scared, I’m here to help.” you explained.

“And how can we trust you?” other person asked, while trying to calm a dog, presumably, someone he knew.

“What other option do you have?” you questioned back, causing a murmur around the sea of people.

“I promise to get back to you as soon as possible.” you continued. “Now, if you let me, I am looking for parts of a weapon.” You hopped off the car, and walked the street, looking at the ground, trying to avoid animals, people and other things.

Unfortunately, the weapon was no where in sight. Great you thought, running your fingers through your hair. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

Before going back to Miguel’s office, you decided to make a trip to the Lizard’s dimension, hopefully, you could find Doctor Connor’s lab and see his notes.

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You got back to Miguel’s office with Dr. Connor’s notes. It would have been better if he had a prototype, but this would do. You were a woman of science after all.

You stepped out of the portal reading the papers, not paying attention to the world around you. All of a sudden, a giant shadow blocked your light, preventing you from seeing the words on the paper you were holding. You looked up from the notes just in time to see a giant ball of fur flying your way.

“MIGUEL!” you shouted, dropping everything to catch him in your arms. You weren’t successful though. The Maine Coon was too big and was coming at too much speed, so when you caught him in your arms, the momentum made you stumbled back and land in your butt.

“Ouch” you exclaimed, before grabbing Miguel by his front legs and stretching him in front of you. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Meow”

“Don’t act innocent you little kitty” you said acting mad. “When I left you were sleeping, what the hell happened?”

“He woke up and when he realized you weren’t here he went crazy” Lyla explained, appearing over your left shoulder, with all her clothes out of place.

“And let me guess, he started chasing you.”

Miguel hissed at Lyla and started wiggling in your grasp, but you didn’t budge.

“That would be correct” she said, before glitching and fixing her appearance. “I would recommend that you wake him up next time, I am not a babysitter.”

Miguel snarled, probably saying he is not a baby.

You rolled your eyes, clearly you couldn’t leave him alone for more than five minutes.

“Stop it you two” you said. “Your bickering is cute and fun when we are in normal circumstances, which we are not right now, so please, can you two get along for a couple of hours until I figure this out?”

“Whatever” Lyla shrugged and then disappeared. Miguel, on the other hand, looked at you with those beautiful red eyes, begging.

“I am talking to you too mister, doesn’t matter how cute you are” you handled Miguel so you could cradle him in your arms and expose his belly, to tickle him.

“MEEOOWW” Miguel screamed, using his back legs to keep your hands away, all while you were laughing.

“Want me to stop? Mmm” you cooed at him, scratching under his chin. Miguel growled at you. “Then let me work in peace, or I’ll keep you this way.” He snarled at that.

You giggled to yourself, and stood up with Miguel still in your arms. You walked to his chair and placed him there, hoping he would fall asleep again. You kissed him in his head, which made him headbutt you, so you kissed him again, and again, and again.. until he turned around, putting his tail right in your mouth.

You took that as a signal to get the job done. So, you grabbed Dr. Connor’s notes and got to work.

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You spent hours trying to replicate the Lizards weapon. His notes were horrendous, but you got around them. You had the first step done, the machine that transformed humans into animals. Now you had to find a way to revert it.

You yawned, and stretched yourself.

“What time is it?” you said groggily, speaking to yourself. You looked to your side, where the clock was. It read 2:00 a.m. 2:00 A.M??! you thought Wow, time does fly. Now I understand Miguel. You were tempted to go to bed, but you needed to fix this thing, so you decided to keep working. A all nighter wouldn’t hurt you. But someone had other plans…

Miguel had been sleeping peacefully while you were working, but now he was awake. He hopped on your workspace, and meowed at you.

“Hi Migs” you said covering your mouth yawning. “How was that nap?” You turned to continue working. As you reached to grab the screwdriver near you, you saw from the corner of your eye how Miguel was walking towards you. Slowly, he headbutted your hand that was clutching the screwdriver.

You didn’t pay attention to him, too focused on trying to finish the machine. Miguel growled softly and then proceeded to drawn out a meow, trying to catch your attention, but not succeeding.

Your attention was solely on the machine, frowning and sticking your tongue out in concentration. One slip and you could be turned into an animal as well, or worse, turn the whole society. Boy, would that be a disaster.

You were so focused that you didn’t catch Miguel’s actions. He had gradually gotten close to you, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Once your right hand, the one with the screwdriver, was away from the device, he jumped and bit your hand, making you drop the tool and quickly clutch your hand towards your chest.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed. “Miguel, what is wrong with you?” you didn’t expect an answer from him, so you carried on with your work, not before staring at Miguel with a frown and giving him a death stare. “I know you are impatient, but I am trying my best here.”

You continued working, not paying attention to the cat, but he knew how to gain it.

Miguel howled loudly, making you snap your head towards him. “Miguel” you hissed. “Someone could here, can you stay quiet please?” you were honestly losing your patience.

Miguel stared straight at you, while his paw gently push the screwdriver towards the edge.

“Miguel NO” you said sternly, but he didn’t listen. He kept giving the tool gentle pushes, until almost half of it was outside of the table.

“Miguel” you challenged. You locked eyes with him. You closed them and opened them, daring him to move, and see the consequences.

He looked at you dead in the eyes and pushed the screwdriver all the way through, making it drop to the floor and make a big noise, echoing through the big and empty office.

“That’s it” you said, dropping the tools and gloves you had on. “What do you want?”

Miguel walked towards you and headbutted your stomach. You looked confused for a minute, until something clicked on your head.

“Oh my god” you cried, covering your mouth with your hands. “You are hungry.”

Miguel meowed, as in telling you yes.

“Oh Miggyyy” you whispered, grabbing him and cradling him in your arms. “I am so so sorry.” You kissed his head while he purred and gave him a really tight hug. Just in cue, your stomach grumbled too.

“Okay, what if we go to my universe, hmm?” you asked. “I know a supermarket near my apartment that sells cat things, and then we go to my home and we sleep a little. What do you say?”

Miguel purred in your arms and meowed repeatedly. You had read enough about cats beforehand to know that meant he was excited.

“Alright, let’s go” you said, before letting Lyla know you were leaving and that she had to contact you if anything went wrong. And with that, you opened a portal to your universe and went home with a kitty in your arms.

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Once you landed on your universe, you rushed home to change and leave Miguel, not before telling him to be careful and that you would be back shortly.

Not wanting to leave Miguel alone for long, you ran to the nearest market and bought some cat food, tuna, some toys you saw that you thought were cute (and that Miguel would probably hate, but you wanted to tease him), and some food for you, for some weird reason you were craving empanadas. Yeah, not a good fast food to make at 3 a.m in the morning, but you wanted it, so you couldn’t deny your appetite anything.

You sprinted back with the shopping bags on your arms, and as soon as you opened your door, you heard the cutest pitter-patter of Miguel's paws running towards you on your wooden floors. Once he saw you he started meowing non stop. You weren’t sure if it was because he missed you or because he could smell the food you had brought.

You placed the bags on the counter, and Miguel climbed on it, smelling each bag, trying to decipher where the food was.

“You are so impatient” you giggled.

Miguel just meowed, and kept smelling the bags, until he found what he was looking for and got into the bag.

“Miguel!” you exclaimed, grabbing him. He cried and tried to wiggle out of your hold, but you were strong.

With Miguel in one arm, you looked for a plate to place his food. Once you found it, you put Miguel on the floor and proceeded to fix his food. As soon as you placed the plate on the floor, Miguel dived into it, as if he was starving.

“I’m sorry Miggy, I forgot about the food” you said. He didn’t answer, too busy shoving his mouth with food.

You laughed at him for a while, until your stomach grumbled, so then you proceeded to make your food, taking advantage that Miguel was busy with his own.

You started making the filling for the empanadas. You bought minced meat, onions, olives and bell peppers, to make them the Argentinian style just as your mom had taught you. You chopped all the veggies, making yourself cry with the onions, and hoping Miguel was alright, but as you heard no complaining, you assumed he was fine.

Just as the filling was done and you were about to start making the empanadas, Miguel finished his food, and hopped on the counter to watch what you were doing. He groomed himself, acting as a gentleman, but you knew he was up to no good.

You pretended to not pay attention, and continued making the empanadas and putting them in a tray, to take them to the oven. Once you finished the last one, you had an urged to go to the bathroom, so you let them on top of the stove, so they wouldn’t burn.

You rushed to the toilet. While you were using the restroom you heard Miguel scratched the door and meowed at the other side. I can’t believe this guy you thought, giggling to yourself. You hurried to opened the door, and there he was. He looked at you with those beautiful eyes, those eyes that you had learnt to love, but also that you could read like a book. He had done something.

You shook your head smiling. You crunched down to pick him up and kiss him. “You’ve become really needy in this past couple of hours” you said to him. “Maybe I should keep you like this a little longer” you joked, making him hiss, but then purred, as you scratched him behind his ears.

You walked towards the kitchen, and there it was. He had left printed paws in one of the empanadas. “This is why you are acting so cute?” you questioned, grabbing him to look at what he had done. He meowed slowly at you. You simply laughed, he was adorable after all.

After cooking, eating and cleaning everything, it was already 5 a.m, and you were exhausted and so was Miguel, who spent all the last 10 minutes yawning right in front of your face and headbutting you, demanding pets.

You prepared yourself for bed, knowing you weren’t going to sleep much, but that you needed it to stay focus tomorrow during work. You climbed into bed and called Miguel to cuddle with you. In only five minutes, you fell asleep, listening to Miguel’s purrs.

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Around 8 a.m you were rudely awakened by a paw hitting your nose. You opened your eyes slowly, feeling disorientated, the sun hitting your face making it difficult to see. You felt a weight on your chest, and then Miguel’s face emerged from the sun. He purr at you, making biscuits in your chest and licking your nose, cheeks and chin repeatedly.

“Miguellll” you groaned, but you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Meow” he responded. flopping in your chest, with his head tucked between your shoulder and neck. He nestled himself in, but you wouldn’t let him. You sat up quickly, causing him to slide off, and growled.

“If you wake me up, you can’t expect to receive cuddles mister” you said, getting out of the bed and into the bathroom, to start your morning routine. Miguel followed your footsteps, climbing into the sink, and staring at you, without uttering a sound.

You proceeded to do your things as always, plus, fixing a plate for Miguel for his breakfast. As soon as you were both ready, and you had packed Miguel’s things (food and the toys) you opened a portal to Miguel’s dimension, to continue working.

When you stepped out of the portal, into Miguel’s office, you were met with light over Miguel’s platform. Light? you thought. I thought I had turned off everything last night. Maybe it was Lyla.

You walked towards it and set him down in the chair, so he could be comfortable, and the bag with his things in the table. As you were about to call for Lyla, you heard a sound behind you.

You turned around alarmed. Scanning with your eyes the space, you couldn’t see anything out of place, but you could sense it. You signaled Miguel to stay hidden, in case it was a Spider person, and stepped out of the platform, walking towards the place where you heard the sound coming from.

Approaching your working station slowly and with soft steps, your senses where in high alert. You could have called Lyla, but she was way too noisy this days, and she would have probably said something about Miguel’s state, so you didn’t want to take any chances.

Your work station was dark, you could barely make senses of the shapes. The sound had stopped, but you knew someone or something was near. As you were about to reach the table, something moved quickly on your right side. You turned your body that way, when…

“Surprise!!”

“AHHH” you screamed, falling backwards.

Peter B quickly grabbed your arm preventing you from landing on your butt and stabilizing you. You placed a hand over your chest, breathing rapidly.

“My god Peter!” you exclaimed, almost out of breath. “You almost killed me.”

Peter B and Mayday laughed. “I’m sorry” he said. “I was just waiting for the big guy, when I noticed this thing on the workspace. Is this what Miguel is working on?” he asked, pointing his finger towards the machine.

Miguel! you thought. I have to make sure he doesn’t see him.

“Oh! That?” you pointed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s Miguel’s.”

“So, where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“Miguel?”

“Ah” you exclaimed. “He is, uhmm, he is taking a break, yeah” you said, playing with your hands. “He had been working all night, so yeah, he was tired.”

“Miguel, tired?” Peter B questioned, looking at you raising his eyebrow.

“Well, not really” you answered scratching the back of your neck. “I made him take a nap. But anyways” you said, trying to change the course of the conversation. “What are you doing here? I thought I told Jess no one was allowed.” You crossed your arms, aiming to look intimidating.

“Yes, I know.” Peter said, looking down at Mayday in his carrier. “I just wanted to leave Mayday with you. I have a mission and you know Miguel doesn’t like when I take her.”

You widened your eyes. Dammit Peter, right now? you thought.

“I’m really glad you trust me with her Peter, but isn’t there someone else?” you said, looking discreetly towards Miguel’s chair. Taking care of Miguel, a baby and fixing a machine wasn’t an easy thing to do.

“Nope, everyone else is busy”

“Ughh, fine” you groaned, extending your arms to grab Mayday.

She happily jumped into your arms, this not being the first time you had taken care of her.

“Okay, bye babyy” Peter cooed at her. “Thank you y/n. Tell the big guy I say hello.”

“Okay, byeee” you said fake smiling.

Once Peter was out of the door, you dropped your smile and sighed. This is going to be a looong day you thought.

“Okay, baby” you said, turning Mayday in your arms to make her look at you. “There is someone I would like you to meet, but you can’t tell anyone. Okay??”

Mayday, laughed, and put her index finger in front of her mouth. “Yeah, shhh” you said, mimicking her.

You walked towards Miguel, hoping he would not go ballistic and not hurt Mayday. You turned the chair, and there he was, sitting while grooming himself. Once he felt the movement, he stopped and looked at you, and then down at Mayday.

He meowed, confused. Mayday, on the other hand, immediately reached to grab him, while chanting “Kitty Kitty” all over. Miguel scooted back, hitting the back of the chair, trying to get out of Mayday’s arm reach.

“Careful Mayday, this is a cute Kitty, but you have to be careful, alright?” you said. “And the Kitty will behave” you finished, opening your eyes to signal Miguel.

He growled at you, but then meowed. You grabbed the bag on the table first, and then him with your free arm, and took him and Mayday towards you working station.

“Lyla, lights please!” you said, loudly enough for the AI to hear. The lights turned on and Lyla appeared right in front of you.

“Busy day ahead huh?” she smirked.

“Yeah..” you sighed. “Any important thing I should know about?”

“Not really, only that the people from the universe where this happened,” she said, motioning to Miguel. “are becoming a little impatient.”

“Yeah, I can imagine” you huffed.

You bent down, placing Miguel on the floor, and then grabbing a blanket, laying it down to set Mayday on top of it. As soon as she was free, she launched herself towards Miguel.

“MEOOOW” he screamed, being grasped by her tiny hands.

Mayday hugged him towards her chest and started petting him, as slowly as she could.

“That’s good Mayday” you cheered, while clapping at her. “You are being so careful.”

Lyla took out her holographic phone and took a picture, making you look at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we had talk about this” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?” she questioned. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to remember this. I promise it is just for Miguel, you and me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay” you said, uncrossing your arms. “I have to admit, it is really funny.” you laughed.

Miguel, on the other hand, was staring at both of you angrily.

“Sorry” you mouthed at him, making him growled.

Before going back to work, you opened the bag and took out the toys you had brought.

“Here Mayday” you said, handing her a stick with a rat attached to it. “You can play with this, see if he likes it.”

She looked at it and grabbed it with one arm, the other still holding Miguel down. She laughed, and moved it around, in front of Miguel. He didn’t pay much attention to it, he was still locking at you, the only difference now was that he was even angrier.

“Oh, come on Kitty” you cooed, teasing him. “Play a little.”

Miguel meowed at you, but proceeded to play his part, only to humor you. Once you saw they were safe, you continued working, you didn’t want to prolong Miguel’s suffering any longer.

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Hours went by, now Miguel and Mayday, both exhausted from all the playing, were sleeping together on the blanket on the floor. You, on the other hand, had been working none stop, but you were close.

"One more screw and… YES!" you whispered, throwing your hands in the air. The weapon was done, or at least, that’s what you thought.

“Lyla” you murmured. The AI appeared in front of you. “I am going to the that universe to see if this works” you explained. “If Miguel or Mayday wake up, tell them, and take care of them while I’m gone”

Lyla gave you a thumbs up and disappeared.

You looked at the child and the cat and knelt down to give them both a kiss on the head. Standing up, you grabbed the device and opened a portal to the universe where the Lizard attack happened.

It only happened yesterday, but it feels like an eternity you thought, stepping through the portal. You swung your way to the most affected area. Police cars where lined up, containing the animals.

You landed on the roof of one of the cars.

“Officer!” you shouted. “I need a megaphone”.

The policeman handed it to you. “People of New York” you said into it. “I’m here to turn you back into humans, please all gather around.”

“Are you sure it is going to work?” the officer asked.

“Yes” Not really you lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. You just weren’t sure.

More and more animals swarmed the streets. Hopefully, everyone affected, or most of them, where there. You aimed the device towards the crowed, and prayed that it would work.

You pressed the trigger closing your eyes, not wanting to see the result.

There was a collective gasp among the people, which made you snap your eyes open. There, in front of you, where animals had resided, now there where people.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, jumping in place. It worked! you thought.

You continued to shoot the beam towards the affected, until there were no animals in sight, or at least, no humans transformed into animals.

“Thank you, superhero” the officer said.

“No, thank you” you replied. “I am sorry for the inconvenience. I am going to come back to leave this to you, in case there are others who aren’t here, but now I have to use it somewhere else” you explained, and without waiting for an answer, you swung to the nearest rooftop, opening a portal and exiting it in Miguel’s office.

Thankfully, Mayday was still asleep, which was perfect. Lyla popped up next to you, and asked:

“And? Did it work?”

“Yes! I’m going to wake up Miguel”

You walked towards the cat, still sprawled out in the blanket and shook him up a little.

“Miggy, Miggy! Wake up” you whispered.

Miguel gently lift up his head, looking confused.

“The device works! I can turn you back!” you exclaimed, still not raising your voice, as to not wake up Mayday.

At that, Miguel stood up quickly and positioned himself in the middle of the room. You shoot the beam towards him, and in a second, your boyfriend appeared in all his glory, 6 feet and all.

“Miggy!!!” you squealed letting go of the machine, and jumped into his arms hugging him.

He hugged you back, lifting you in the air, turning. You giggled, feeling dizzy. Once he set you back in your feet, you grabbed his face and kissed him, but pulled back quickly.

“Wait!” you exclaimed. “Be right back!”. You ran towards the device, grabbed it and opened a portal to drop it off with the officer.

Once you came back, Miguel was looking confused, but you didn’t give him time to question you, because you jumped right back into his arms and kissed him deeply.

“I missed youu” you said, barely above a whisper, after pulling back slightly, lips still brushing against each other.

“I missed you too amor” he replied, rubbing his nose against yours. You giggled, happy to have your human boyfriend back.

“I have to admit,” you started. “I’m going to miss having a kitty” you finished pouting, looking up towards Miguel with pleading eyes.

“No” Miguel said sternly.

"Pleeease" you pleaded, giving him puppy eyes.

After a stare contest, he gave up.

"Fiinne" he groaned. "But it can't be a Maine Coon".

"Yayyyy" you squealed, and gave him a quick peck.

Maybe the Kitty Adventures weren't over after all.

<< Part 1

Hope you like this!!! The part 3 will be the last one, and I'm thinking of 2 bonuses. So, hope you enjoy!!!

Thanks @cupcakeinat0r for letting me use the idea of the cat putting his paws in the dough haha.

[hellishjoel]

uneasy hearts weigh the most

7.3k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog

summary: Benny hosts the party of the year where broken pieces of Frankie's past are unearthed. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), smoking and drinking alcohol, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.), house party, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), swearing, pet names, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, vivid writing of a mental disorder [capgras syndrome] and an accompanied nightmare, descriptions of violence against a parental figure, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers) A/N: I know this has been in the works for a while and I thank you for your patience! special shoutout to @thetriumphantpanda who beta'd this for me!! I owe her a 100 grand bar now! listen to the song uneasy hearts weigh the most and I'll kiss you on the forehead

Yeah baby, keep fuckin’ my fingers. “Do it again,” he mutters.  You moan louder as you gyrate your hips once more against his fingers, grinding your core against his knuckles.  “Fuck, baby,” he whispers with adoration.

The last time Francisco Morales saw his father was when he was punching his face in. 

It was a blur. 

Blood splattered across his face, neck, and shirt. His fist was crimson, his knuckles ached. But he couldn’t will himself to stop. 

Frankie would draw his arm back, using as much force as his little twelve-year-old body could muster, and plunge his whole body forward as he landed another hit. He couldn’t stop himself from crying, even when he was at his angriest. 

Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop crying? 

Frankie’s dad wasn't exactly father-of-the-year material. More like a drill sergeant with a drinking problem. When things got tough, he’d ditch his family for drugs and booze and only ever circle back when money turned to dust. 

His mom was falling apart before his eyes. His younger siblings were fearful because their mom, who was supposed to take care of them, couldn’t, and their father, who was supposed to love them, hurt them. 

Frankie was the oldest; he felt an obligation to protect everyone. But what can you do when you’re not even five feet tall?

If his father hadn’t been so strung out that night, Frankie wouldn’t have been able to tackle him to the ground like he did. He wouldn’t have been able to pin him down by fisting his ratty t-shirt and hit him like he did. As hard as he did. As many times as he did. 

Then, his father lay lifeless. Frankie blinked away his tears and let out a shaky sob. He got scared because he thought he had killed him. After all those puny hits, he laid limp. He wasn’t smart enough to know that he had just passed out from the drugs in his system. 

Frankie was so torn because how can you hate someone you’re supposed to love? How could his father leave the family he was supposed to be the foundation of? 

The Texas Department of Family and Protective Services intervened not long after. And he doesn’t like to think about it, any of it. 

Not growing up, not his family, nothing. 

But now he’s staring at a letter from his father. It’s his handwriting; the slant in the L’s, and the hook of his Y’s. Slightly smeary, written in pencil with eraser shavings damn near burned into the lined paper. He wrote this letter over and over again, trying to author the right words, to say the right things. 

Frankie’s heart stops, and all the memories rush back in a flood. It hits him like a fucking hurricane. 

Tommy’s Diner settles after its Friday night dinner rush. The hour before closing was always erratic, putting together to-go orders and ushering stacks of dirty plates from the tables to the back sink. 

Your shoulder blades collide with the swing door connecting the kitchen to the rest of the diner, using the force of your body to swing it open as you balance the ceramic plates in your arms. 

“Sorry, Lou. Just a few more.” You mutter tiredly as you set the stack beside the teenage dishwasher, hearing him sigh loudly before putting his earbuds back in place. He wasn’t one for many words. The most you knew about him was he listened to cringey, whiney rappers. 

You close your eyes for just a moment and lean back into the counter, craning your back and feeling each vertebrae realigning with anguish. Tina called in sick and you offered to work a double to pick up some extra hours this week. Besides, on days you didn’t work with Frankie, you were more… productive. 

The hum of customers gradually subsides, their chatter tapering off until the bell above the door chimes, signaling their exit. It’s nicer like this, when you don’t have to be the charming server who keeps up with all of their conversations from table to table. Especially after pulling a double, and your brain feels like it might melt. 

The staff worked diligently throughout the rest of the night, tidying up the tables and floors, not letting up until the countertops gleamed, the coffee pots shined, and the strong smell of cleaning fumes mingled in the air. 

You grow a fond smile thinking about spending the summer with Frankie. He adores being outside far more than you do. It’s impossible not to imagine how stupidly sexy he would look with his skin glowing a golden tan and a pair of sunglasses sitting lazily on the bridge of his aquiline nose. Loose, flowy shirt and a pair of shorts. Curls lost to the wind. 

He talks about taking you on nature walks through his favorite trails and driving you further out of your nowhere town so you can stargaze at midnight. Or maybe you could hit the beach and spend your days under the sun drinking margaritas and Coronas. 

Summer could change things for you. 

Admittedly, you’ve been fantasizing—romanticizing. You think about him even when he’s not around. You miss the home you’ve made on the open side of his bed, where you’d curl around his orange tabby cat with his arms circled around your waist. 

Worst of all were the nights you were back at your place, where there was no one around to cook you dinner or dish out goofy conversations. Having to snake touches over your own body, over the curve of your belly, and sinking your fingers past your panties where the only remnants of Frankie is you muttering his name at the peak of your orgasm, wishing it was him showering you with his affections rather than your fingers or toys. 

God forbid you enjoy solo sessions anymore because Frankie has totally ruined that for you. It wasn’t as fun knowing you had a brown-eyed, curly-headed man across town who would beg on his knees given the chance. 

Anyway. Enough of that. 

You count the till’s cash, level out the profit, and put it all in a small bank bag before your manager, Carla, tucks it inside the safe. The metal keys on your carabiner clip jingle upon flipping the lock, the cool night air tickling your skin as late spring shows its face under the velvet night sky. 

A truck rumbles up the drive, and you know the signature death rattle all too well. 

“What are you doin’ here?” You lean against the driver's side of Frankie’s truck once he pulls up to you, your sneakers shifting gravel, his mouth tilted in a smirk. He leans past the truck’s frame and kisses you, cradling the back of your head to keep you against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums against your mouth, tasting cherry chapstick as he glides his tongue across your lower lip. “Get in. Benny’s having a house party.”

Eyes narrowing, you run your thumb up his beard scruff and gently scrape your nails down the dark hair. “I need to go home to change. Plus, I need a shower. I smell like grease, and I have grime under my nails.” 

“Fine, I’ll take you back to your place. I can wait.” 

A breath stalls in your lungs, eyes unblinking as you stare at him for a moment. 

Frankie has yet to visit your place — your dungeon, a basement-level one-bedroom apartment made up by a measly excuse of a kitchen and a tiny living space. You’re by no means embarrassed of its appearance. You’re rather clean, and you’ve made it as homely as you possibly can with bright-colored rugs and wall art. But it was sort of your final boundary. He was literally about to pass the threshold. Master the final boss. 

He’s let you have your space and never pushed you. The least you could do was say,

“Okay.” 

A contagious grin catches his lips, pulling you closer by the hand still cradling the back of your head, and he takes you in for a few more slow kisses. 

A car’s honk and bright lights jolt your heart, and your eyes squint until the flashers go down on the car Frankie has parked in.

“Can you two lovebirds hurry it up?” your manager, Carla, yells from the driver's seat of her rust-red 2006 Honda Civic. “You’re blockin’ me in, Francisco.”

You purse your lips with embarrassment, heat flushing the back of your neck. Carla was going to find out one way or another that you two have been sneaking around. She knows everything about everyone. 

“Hey, sorry, mama,” Frankie nods as she shakes her head slowly, mouth tainted with a smirk. 

“I’ll follow you back to your place,” Frankie whispers and you nod shyly, wrapping around the front of his truck and letting him tail you home. 

Frankie takes two steps at a time down to your basement-level apartment. His boots thump against the cold stone, and you push the front door open with the force of your shoulder. 

His eyes drag along the different pieces of the apartment that make you, you. Soft blankets that drape along the back of a loveseat accompanied by little, fluffy pillows, different pairs of sneakers sit stacked beside the front door, and a small table for two holds random clutter in the criminally tiny dining room. 

He follows your lead and kicks off his shoes, watching you unfold into your natural routine: you drop your bag on the kitchen counter, and your fingers are already tugging a black hair tie loose. He trails you down a narrow hallway, squinting as you turn on the harsh overhead lighting to the bathroom. 

Out of your clothes without a second thought, Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way you fling your bra past his head, tunneling down the hallway and landing in what he presumes is your bedroom. The shower curtain is something abstract, most likely purchased from the Target down the road. 

“I’ll be quick if you wanna wait outside,” you offer, body shielded by the curtain. 

Frankie shrugs, eyes glancing to the toilet opposite the shower.

“I don’t mind waitin’. Wanna tell me about your day?” Frankie asks, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid. He sees you fight away a timid smile and slink behind the shower curtain. The beads of water hit your body and change the tune inside the bathroom. He can tell each time you shift and twirl. It takes you a moment to become acquainted, but you retell the details of your day in a sweet lull. 

“I, uh, I usually listen to music when I shower,” you admit between the spray. 

“Oh, so you want me to start singin’?” Frankie asks with a smirk, to which you quickly shout no! 

It doesn’t stop him from breaking into a pitchy rendition of a song by the Bee Gees. 

After a fit of laughter, you both settle down, and Frankie is back to smiling at the sheer, cheaply-made shower curtain. He can see your silhouette dance under the shower head, gathering your hair and rising out the suds, grabbing a loofa to scrub away the worst of the grime from Tommy’s Diner. 

Holy shit, Frankie thinks, you smell like heaven. Oh my god, he likes you. It hits him like a bullet to the chest, the impact rippling through his veins and making his heart beat so loud that it rings in his ears. It’s a silent reminder that feeling things are beautiful when they are about you. 

The bathroom grows steamy, fogging up the glass of your medicine cabinet mirror. His skin grows clammy and his knee starts to jump in anticipation. 

“I’m almost done!” Your voice sing-songs as he slips off his jacket, his eyes still cast upon your body beyond the curtain. He’s in love with the way your body moves, fluidly and without intention. You’re just taking a shower and he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Just as you’re about to flip the water off, the curtain rings screech to open. 

“Frankie,” you breathe, eyes falling to his exposed tan skin. No other words come to mind other than another breath of his name. 

His lips attach to your neck, slow but faltering. Like he’s searching for the one spot to push you over the edge and join him in oblivion. 

The tension in the air rises as the water cascades down his back and soaks his dark curls. His frame, large and broad, protects yours as his arms circle your waist like wild vines.

Your eyes slowly fall closed, lips parted as your head eventually tilts back and rests against the shower wall. It exposes more area for Frankie to explore, his palms kneading at your lower back, arching your torso into his own. 

His teeth skim along your skin, the steam already forcing your flesh to glow and rise under the growing pressure of his hunger for you. 

He begins to navigate a new path, his lips finding purchase above your breastbone. Your fingers start at his biceps, feeling the strong muscles protruding underneath. He’s so unbearably handsome, and you can’t believe his body is fitting in the small shower stall with you. 

Finally, a heavy breath slips, something that resembles a moan. After that, he’s starving for you. 

The teeth that were once just grazing your skin, now nipping and sucking. His hands fall lower down the curve of your ass, squeezing and lifting as you gasp into his ear. You're dripping with arousal that sits achingly between your legs. 

You place a slender hand over his more muscular one, guiding it between your legs and gently cupping your mound. 

“Please,” you whisper, like the only thing Frankie needs to hear. 

He paints your mouth in a wet kiss, drowning any better judgment that may have resided. 

Intertwining your feelings together, the steam buckles heatedly in the small space. 

His fingers curl in your hold, swiping between your folds and feeling you. There’s a whimper let out against his ear, nipping at his lower lip once his fingers push past your threshold. 

And he groans. 

You’re so fucking tight, so fucking perfect for him. His forehead lays against your temple, your nose brushing against the coarse hair of his beard. Frankie sinks his fingers into you, knuckle-deep, and leaves you squirming under his hold. His fingers are so thick, it’s a bittersweet symphony the way your moans mingle in the air.

He’s got you cornered in the shower, body pressed against the hot mold. Two fingers move fluidly inside, stretching your core and stoking the burning embers that rest low in your stomach. 

“There,” you breathe, gasping as he adds more pressure to one spot that makes your legs nearly collapse out from under you. He still has you locked with an arm around your waist, holding what’s left of your presence. 

He’s skilled, his thumb finding your clit, and you want to scream at the way his fingers are long enough to fuck into you and massage your aching pearl at the same time. He’s the only one who can make you unfold like this.  

“Christ,” he mutters into your ear as he feels your walls desperately clench around him. “You can take another, can’t ya, baby?” 

His brown eyes melt you, waiting for your confirmation. You sigh weakly but ultimately nod. It’s all you can think about. 

He groans as he works a third into your entrance, and it burns, the way your pleasure mixes with the pain. 

You wrap an arm weakly around the tops of his shoulders, nails etching into his skin in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself able in his arms. 

“Fuck, Frankie,” you whine, long and bratty almost. You’re so close already, he knows just how to get you to the brink. 

You tingle at his touch, your muscles going numb as he fucks his fingers at a now unrelenting pace within your tight core. 

He works you to the edge, feeling the tick of the timebomb slowly begin to set off inside you. 

With all the energy you have left, you swing your leg up and hitch it on his hip. 

He looks bewildered for a moment, shocked eyes meeting your own as you rest your shoulder blades back against the shower wall with enough room to move your hips. You begin rolling your core down onto his fingers and he makes a noise resembling praise. 

Yeah baby, keep fuckin’ my fingers.

“Do it again,” he mutters. 

You moan louder as you gyrate your hips once more against his fingers, grinding your core against his knuckles. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers with adoration. 

He watches your body with fascination, Frankie’s eyes obsessively taking in your movements. His lips are quick to bow down at your alter, lips latching onto your exposed nipples that perk up in his mouth with all the attention. It makes a tingle shoot down your spine, only making your hips move faster as you fuck yourself down onto his fingers. 

Frankie kisses down your body until he’s sunk down onto his knees, damn near growling as your hips grind against his awaiting mouth. He latches his lips to your clit and harshly suckles, causing a high-pitched whimper to leave your mouth. 

You’re so close and he knows it, he can feel your thighs trembling under the heat of his palms. It’s the only thing holding you up at this point. Weaving your fingers into his watered-down locks, you grip them tight and keep Frankie close. 

He chuckles lowly, eyes flicking up to yours and seeing the desperate look cast over them. 

“You wanna come?”

Like he even has to ask. 

“Please,” you say, desperation leaking from your voice as you feverishly nod. 

Frankie tsks playfully, humming lowly against your clit. “Love when you beg for it, sweetheart.” 

Frankie circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, making out with your pussy and lapping away at your sweet juices. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing his fingers to move with more precision. 

You can feel your muscles contort as he starts to massage your spongy sweet spot. It’s enough to make your jaw drop and heat to spill down your spine. Your fingers clench his curls tighter between your fingers, holding him against you as your orgasm finally breaches. 

The leg hooked onto his shoulder shakes with each uneasy wave of your orgasm. The shower’s heat leaves you breathless, crying out in pleasure as your body shudders. 

Frankie smirks as he slowly loosens his fingers from your entrance, taking each finger into his mouth, one, two, three. His tongue swirls around each digit before he inches your leg back to down to the shower floor, planting your feet on solid ground before he stands and twists the shower’s handle. 

It only takes a few seconds, but the high of your orgasm and the heat of the shower makes you lose your sense of self. Your legs tremble and your hands feverishly grip Frankie. 

The ringing in your ears slowly fades away as he snaps the handle on the shower, letting the room calm into gentle silence. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispers as he wraps you in his arms, feeling weightless as he talks you down. “Wow,” he breathes, “never had a woman faint from how good-”

“Stop,” you laugh breathlessly, peaking your eyes open, and seeing the glittering haze of the handsome man in front of you. Water droplets run down his face, cascading down his neck and gliding horizontally across his shoulders. 

“I like hearing you talk about your day.”

Innocent eyes meet his own and you nod. “Okay.”

Frankie wasn’t joking when he said his friends threw a house party. They threw a goddamn party. 

After winding down a long gravel road about thirty minutes out of town, you arrive at a two-story classic country home. It’s surrounded by acres and acres of green grass and tall trees in the distance. The most action this house has seen in years is most likely deer or coyotes. 

And now it was seeing the house party of a lifetime. 

“Frankie,” you breathe out in disbelief once he parks his truck in the grass and kills the engine. “Whose house is this?”

His mouth tilts in a smirk as he peers forward up at the house, not sure if he’s staring at the long string lights that reach from one side of the home to the other, or the drunkards climbing onto the roof. 

“Will and Benny’s, after their grandfather passed away. Pretty sweet, huh?” 

The crunch of a beer can under your shoe is the first thing you hear, other guests quick to park their vehicles and rush inside with cases of beer on their shoulders. The echoes of the partying inside could be heard from the dirt driveway, Frankie wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he escorts you in. 

A chorus of people bump against your shoulder as they step outside, laughing hard and obviously tipsy. 

“What is this place?” You mutter in slight amazement and curiosity. 

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Frankie whispers against your ear, making a tingle slip down your spine as you playfully nudge your elbow somewhere between his ribs.

He walks you through the living room, easily the most filled room in the house by the looks of it. All the furniture has been pushed aside and a band resides at the forefront of all the chaos. The lead singer and guitarists stand on the sitting area of the recessed mantle. The cheering rings in your ears and the bass thumps through the floorboards, electrifying everyone’s bodies to move and dance. 

Off the dining room is the kitchen. You can’t really tell how modern or outdated it is due to the sea of people making drinks. Frankie reaches through the hoard and retrieves two beers, popping the top off yours and slipping the cold bottle into your hand. 

“Thanks,” you mutter as you clink your bottle with his. 

Aside from the noisiest parts of the house, there were chill places where people were talking and sharing ideas or the latest things that were happening in their lives. You try not to laugh as a woman swaying in a hammock accidentally falls out, landing with a thud. Thankfully, her friends in the bean bags below caught her with bellows of glee. 

“Best part,” Frankie whispers to you as he opens the door to a nearly pitch-black room, only lit by two lanterns at the very front of the mostly wood study. People are sat on the floor, whispering and shushing each other as you and Frankie fill in quietly towards the back.

“And now, may I present to you, Santi, the Significant!”

Your eyebrows furrow as Santiago steps in front of a white flashlight’s spot, bowing ridiculously as everyone laughs. 

“Santi the Significant?” You whisper as Frankie chuckles quietly and nuzzles his nose against your temple. 

“He thought Magnificent wasn’t spectacular enough, or kitschy.”

“He performs real magic? Isn’t that kind of…” At the risk of offending one of his best friends, he fills in the blank for you.  

“Nerdy?” Frankie snidely smirks and shakes his head. “Works better than you think. Watch.”

You're skeptical about the magic act, but you can't help but be impressed as the confident Santi pulls roses from his jacket sleeve and hands them to the most eligible ladies in the audience, eliciting gasps and enthusiastic applause.

“No way,” you shake your head as Santi continues a few close-up magic tricks, enough to keep his drunk audience convinced. After a few more card tricks and cheesy jokes, the crowd applauds and whistles.

“That’s all from me today, folks. If you want my number, please see me after the show.”

“Dear god,” you mutter, hiding your face in Frankie’s shoulder. “How is this working?” You ask as a group of young women circle Santi with praise and lusty eyes. “Should I go ask for his number? I was pretty wooed back there.”

Frankie tuts as he ushers you out of the study. “Absolutely not.”

The entire night thrives on high energy with a constant flow of surprises. The decor of pink plastic flamingos and a surprise disco ball is making this everyone’s night one to remember - as long as the guests don’t drink too much. 

You’ve let Frankie go to mingle with his friends while you keep an intoxicated Benny at bay sitting at the top step of the staircase that looks over most of the party. 

“Quite the bash, Benny.”

“Thank you, m’lady. You’re enjoying yourself?” He slurs and sways, even while sitting. 

“I didn’t even know this many people our age live around here.” Your head rests against old yellow wallpaper, the design mostly faded and lightly curling at the floorboards. Your finger plays with the exposed edge, fighting the urge to tear it off or keep peeling it. 

He hums and throws an empty beer bottle behind his shoulder, hearing it clatter against the wall. “The best distraction for someone like me is people. I like people. And everyone needs a good distraction.”

You narrow your eyes on Benny curiously, the disco ball flashing along the bedazzled beads hanging around his neck. “Distraction from what?”

Benny seems like a very happy person, but it’s moments like these that reveal one's vulnerability. He slowly shakes his head with a very telling smile, gently squeezing your shoulder as he sighs. “It’s okay,” he slurs, “it’s why our friend group gets along so well because we all need distractions.”

He speaks so knowingly, almost like a prophet speaking in riddles, so you decide to amuse him. 

“Yeah? What about Frankie? He needs distractions too?”

Benny hums and points at Frankie down below. You peer through the wooden balusters, seeing Frankie mix and mingle with a drink in one hand and a lit joint in the other. He takes a hit and sputters up a cough as he laughs at what his group is saying, making you smile. 

“Frankie… is a very special case. He’s uh,” Benny’s eyes droop, his head resting on your shoulder as he closes his eyes and relaxes with your presence. 

“He’s what?” You whisper, reassuringly running a hand up and down his back. 

Benny lets out another sigh, breath reeking of alcohol. “You’re a good distraction for him. ‘Nd I don’t mean a distraction like a bad thing. You’re… You’re very good for him. He’s had a hard life and y’know, I’m sure he’s told you. But now he’s happy again.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest and you’re afraid Benny might be able to hear it. The large grandfather clock standing by the front door chimes, and you can’t read the time from this distance, but by the multiple rings, it must be midnight. 

And before you can stop him from spilling, Benny shares maybe more than he should. 

“Y’know with his dad. His whole family, really. His mom has capybara… no, not capybara syndrome.” Benny pauses to laugh before finishing. 

“Capgras syndrome? She just wasn’t all there when he was growing up and she didn’t get the help she needed until later in… in life. Frankie was just a kid and all of his siblings were, y’know, younger than him. Plus his dad wasn’t around to help her, drunk asshole that he was probably wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”

You stare straight ahead, watching your happy goofball down below with a new view.

“So his mom was there but not really there. He hasn’t seen his dad in years, but now, he’s back around and sent Frankie a letter or some shit. I don’t know what about. But everything has just sort of sucked for him for a long time.” Benny scoffs and lays his forehead against your shoulder, muttering now. “Especially that damn letter. ‘Nd his damn dad. But you know about all of this already.”

No, you didn’t. You’re stunned into a soft silence, the hand on Benny’s back slowly falling. 

“This party and you, good distractions. But Frankie told me he started having nightmares again.”

Suddenly very awake and alert, Benny sits up straight and looks you in your eyes. “Don’t let him drink too much tonight, okay? He’ll start spiraling if he thinks about this shit too much. Keep… keep being a good distraction.”

Benny pauses and clenches his stomach, his face turning a little pale. “Fuck,” He mutters as he quickly shifts onto his knees and crawls up the opposite side of the staircase, pushing himself to his feet and rushing towards the bathroom.  

The buzz of the party slowly fades, like the sound of snow falling outside. It’s a silence that isn’t silence at all. Everything falls into slow motion, the confetti falling and the disco ball gleaming all halting mid-air. 

You weren’t supposed to know this much, or Frankie would have told you if he wanted to. But now as you stare down the staircase to Frankie, seeing him throw his head back in laughter, it’s hard to imagine someone like him had a past like that. 

Benny was drunk. Maybe he was mixing Frankie up with someone else? You didn’t know why, but instead of your usual instinct to flee, one of protection starts to come over you. 

“Hey,” Frankie breathes out with a big smile, his eyes glazed over and a little red from smoking as he watches you step down the staircase. 

“Hey,” you say with little to no masking of your emotions. 

He tilts his head adorably and rests his hand on your hip, pulling you in closer to him. “You alright?”

After nodding quickly with wide eyes, you know it’s more important for Frankie to believe nothing is wrong. 

“Yeah! Yeah, all good. Do you think we could head out soon? I’m getting pretty tired, worked a double and all.”

Frankie smiles and pulls his truck keys out of his dark blue jeans, doing the responsible thing and putting them into your very capable hands. “If you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s go.” 

He’s cross-faded for sure. At one point on the drive home, Frankie hung his head out of the passenger-side window and stared at the stars, giggling, as the wind whipped his face. But he never let go of your hand. 

 The exhaustion from the night seems to hit you both once you return to the comfort of his apartment, a small orange fluffball hopping off the couch to run his body against your lower calf. 

“Hi, Leo,” Frankie whispers, squatting down to gently scratch the cat’s chubby cheeks. 

After stripping your clothes and turning on his television in the bedroom, the lull of a sitcom settles him into slumber. You lay with Frankie in bed, his arms slung low around your waist and his head nuzzled into your chest. He snores quietly as Leo curls up between you two. 

Sleep seems to escape you, because every time you close your eyes, you picture a young Frankie with a tortured past. A shit father, a not all there mother. How was he so seemingly pieced together as an adult? 

With one hand gently stroking his hair and massaging his scalp, you use the other to search capgras syndrome on your phone. 

The National Institutes of Health describes it as, the most prevalent delusional misidentification syndrome and is characterized as a delusion of doubles. Patients falsely believe that an identical person has replaced a person close to him or her… CS symptoms may result in intrapersonal and interpersonal conflicts, along with poor social relationships. An individual with this kind of disorder is prone to self-harm and violence. There are also implications for the patient's family, as the stress on the caregiver and stigma-related stressors could further compound the issue.

Clicking the lock on your phone as fast as you can, you shakily sigh and wrap your arms tighter around Frankie. 

It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard of and Frankie was at the center of it all. It felt like your stomach bottomed out thinking of what he had seen. 

Was his mother ever violent with him? Or to herself? 

And this letter from his father that Benny mentioned, what did it say? 

You manage to exhaust yourself to sleep, but it doesn’t last long. 

Frankie sweats bullets, his body rustling against the bedsheets that now make him feel confined. His heart hammers against his chest and pounds in his ears. 

These dreams would be just dreams if they were happy, but there’s nothing happy about what he sees. 

On a stormy night, his mother cries. The sobs fill the house, his younger sister fears it’s a ghost by the shaky howling that sways down the hallways to their bedrooms. 

“It’s okay,” his uncertain voice reverbs as he fluffs her light pink princess pillow and tucks a lilac quilt over her small body. He smiles convincingly and closes the doors to his closet. 

He walks alone down the dark hallway, his eyes anxiously peering from left to right. He spies his father downstairs drinking alone at the dining room table. The glass bottle shimmers as lightning strikes outside. 

Is he passed out or impossibly still? 

His mother lets out another wail. 

“Goddammit,” his father curses to himself, shaking his head and finding a coat from the closet before slipping outside and into the rain. 

It’s okay, Frankie thinks, because it’s easier to take care of her when he’s not around to intervene.

With a breath of relief, little ten-year-old Frankie walks downstairs and gets a glass of water. He’s so scared, his hands won’t stop shaking. No matter how much he tries to fill his lungs with air, the shaking doesn’t stop. Dribbles of water slide down his hand and wrap around the outside of his tiny wrist. 

He follows the cries with hesitant steps, lightly pushing open the door to his mother’s bedroom. 

“Mom?” He asks into the dark, his voice soft and squeaky.

“No! No, get out!” Her cries have turned to yelling, scrabbling up to the top of the bed and flushing her back against the bed frame. 

“It’s me, mom, Frankie,” he whispers, slowly walking forward with an arm extended with the water. 

She lets out another wail and shakes her head, causing Frankie to lurch back. He thinks the lightning strikes and the thunder booming outside is scaring her, and all he wants to do is soothe her panic. 

“D-do you want some water?” He asks as she sniffs, her wide and unblinking eyes enough to keep him awake at night. 

In a wake of reality, she wipes her face and whimpers. “Is that really you, Francisco?”

His bottom lip trembles as he nods feverishly. “Yeah mommy, it’s me.” Can’t you see it’s me?

She slowly lowers the covers that she had previously clutched to her chest, nodding slowly. But then she freezes again, horrified, unconvinced. 

“I-It’s not you.” She says with uncertainty, shuddering at another clap of thunder. 

“Momma,” he whispers as he moves closer, reaching out and touching her arm as he stands at her bedside. “Drink some water, momma.”

He offers the glass, her eyes shifting from Frankie to the glass and back. 

“No-no! Your smile is bigger! That’s not my Frankie, his smile is bigger! Stay away from me!” She yelps, harshly smacking the glass of water out of his hands. Frankie jumps but can’t pull away, the grip of her hand wrapping around his wrist burns. 

“You need to stay away from me, you hear me? Stay away from my family!” 

Frankie tries to pull away, his own tears sprinkling along his eyes as he yanks yanks yanks and finally he’s free, running out of her room as adrenaline pumps through his little body. He quickly closes her door on the way out, sobbing erratically as he runs to the safety of the staircase, black funneling around his imagery. 

Frankie’s eyes pop open, feeling the tight hold of your arms like the one of his mother. He shoots up and pushes your arms off, seeing your sleepy eyes tiredly open. 

“Frankie?” You whisper, soft eyes meeting his own.

Fear still possesses him, it was overwhelming like a heavy weight sitting on his chest. It was all-encompassing, his manifestations of terror and panic being linked to the feeling of being chased by something from his past.  

“It’s me, it’s me!” He shouts, his throat feeling like something was clawing at it. 

You nod your head and reach out for his arm to which he instinctively rips away from you. 

“It’s me!” He shouts again, causing Leo to scurry off the bed. His stomach felt uneasy, dread pounding a dent into his head. 

“I know it’s you, I know it’s you, Frankie,” you breathe out, pushing yourself up fully as you take his hand and reassuringly squeeze.

He swallows down an impossibly large lump in his throat, catching his breath seems impossible. He couldn’t escape it, overwhelming helplessness nesting itself deep inside. It’s always the same nightmare or similar variants from his childhood. He used to think that he had blocked them out, shoved them away to a teeny tiny part inside him, locked away inside a vault. But recently, they’ve been coming back in swarms. 

The reality that his nightmare is over suddenly hits him and his back slumps weakly. Like a human no longer possessed, his physical existence slowly turning from mush back to something concrete. Suddenly, a sense of relief washes over him. It wasn’t real, he was safe, he was with you. 

“Frankie, you’re crying,” you whisper, slowly moving your hand up to wipe away the streams on his cheeks. 

Frankie’s shaky hand holds yours, tight, and brings it to his heart, letting you feel the impossibly strong beat. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, putting his head in his hands, “I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry,” he quickly shakes his head, feeling his body subtly relax from the strong heat that was tingling from his head to his toes. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, it was just a bad dream.”

He knows now and he nods, but he still feels lost between his past and his present. 

He shouldn’t have drank as much as he did, and he certainly shouldn’t have smoked. He knows that now, but he was hoping it would help him sleep, keep him at bay until you were gone in the morning. But now you were here and he felt so exposed, his open wounds now out and in the open. 

Please don’t run. 

“I’m sorry,” he says on repeat as you slowly run a hand up and down his back, his body leaning into yours and nodding; he needed this, he needed you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you whisper, “can I hold you?” You ask so sweetly, your voice dripping in kindness lined with concern. 

He’s already nodding as you gently wrap your arms around his broad torso. He puts his arms over yours and sighs weakly, his fingers interlocking with yours. 

Comforting energy exudes from you, the thing he desperately needs the most right now. Your soothing voice is nothing like his mother’s anguished cries, breaking him into reality with the honey drip of your sweet whispers. 

“A nightmare?”

Frankie nods and closes his eyes, wiping the stray tears that still fall down his cheeks. 

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” he tries to laugh, but it just comes out wrecked and thick from crying. 

Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop crying?

Your chin rests on the dip of his shoulder and he can feel your slow breaths against his back. He aligns his wrecked breaths with your calm ones, your bodies slowly becoming in sync.  

He’s so tired. He wants to close his eyes, but every time he does, he sees the flashes of lightning outside his mothers window and hears her untrusting words. 

It’s not you!

You sit together like this for fifteen minutes and he’s becoming grounded again. He strokes the blankets and relaxes the clutching hold he has on your hand. 

“I’m gonna get a cold washcloth, you’re burning up.” You whisper. He doesn’t want you to go, but he knows it will help - something his mother never understood. Help was good. 

“Leo wants to sit with you,” you whisper as you round the bed, Leo already leaping up onto the bed and circling himself between Frankie’s parted legs. 

“Sorry buddy,” he whispers, his voice raw and still shaky, but no longer feeling like he was choking on the air his body was desperately craving. 

With hazy eyes, he watches your body move in his bathroom, the light making his eyes squint. Your soft legs tucked under his large t-shirt was a sight. He was definitely here again, in the present. 

Benny had warned you, but nothing could have prepared you for that. But again, your usual feeling to run wasn’t here, because Frankie really fucking needed you right now. Your own concerns about this relationship were pushed aside. He needed comfort and reassurance, love where there wasn’t any before. 

You soak a washcloth in cold water until your fingers turn numb under the streaming faucet. Squishing out the excess, you return to his bedside and gently dab at his neck. His honey-amber eyes have never looked so dark and lifeless. 

He blinks slowly, he must be so tired. Frankie rests his hand on your upper thigh, fingers sinking into your plush flesh. He’s trying to ground himself, you think. A reminder that this was real. 

“It must have been really scary,” you whisper as you bring the washcloth up to his rosy cheeks, then to his temple and across his forehead. “Does this feel good?”

He nods and squeezes your thigh reassuringly. “Really good.”

“Okay, baby.” You whisper, running the washcloth slowly down both of his arms. The cooling sensation should help him fully awaken. You rest the washcloth on the back of his neck and rest your hand on his now cool cheek. 

His words ring through your ears, begging to be heard that he was real, that it was him. It was a dream about his mom, it had to be. 

He lets out a breath of relief, smiling weakly. “You must think I’m insane.”

He grapples to find the right words, and you think it’s best to come clean. 

“Benny told me,” you whisper, seeing his eyes harden at your truth. “About your mom, Frankie. Is that… is that what your dream was about?”

He sits impossibly still, but something in his gut must condemn him to tell you the truth. “Yeah, it was.”

You nod and run your fingers delicately across his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile. “You can tell me what you want when you’re ready. But it doesn’t scare me off, and I don’t think you’re insane.” 

An exhausted breath of relief mingles between you both and he agrees. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

“My dad, he sent me a letter and the nightmares started again,” Frankie whispers, brokenheartedness laced in his words. 

You press a gentle kiss to his lips, one of understanding. 

“I wanna read it to you in the morning.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, nod, and kiss him again.

After making Frankie a sleepytime tea in his favorite mug, he settles back into bed. He was so vulnerable tonight when he really had no other choice. He falls asleep with his ear to your heart, and his arms wrapped loosely around your hips. 

You stay awake and watch the television for as long as you can, hoping the comforting vibes of a sitcom will calm your racing heart. Gentle fingers draw shapes over Frankie’s back and you share a look with his cat. One that said you were both in this together. As the sun slowly slips across the horizon, your eyes finally close knowing this night of terrors is over. 

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[cupid-grl]

casual pt.2

part 1 <

mdni

the past three weeks were the same. work, get off late, shower, get picked up by a very horny simon, either fuck in his home or in his car, and get dropped back off. it was a very simple routine you'd grown used to. neither of you brought up the conversation (if you could even call it that) from a few weeks prior. the following day he seemed normal, so normal it pissed you off more than anything. why wasn't he conflicted? why didn't he spend nights up late, crying into the pillow that smelled so much like cigarettes and pinewood, wondering what to do to be loved by the person he exposed himself the most to?

you'd never felt so used before. so worthless, with only one sole purpose. where the only time you felt close to him was when he was beneath you and his arms were wrapped around your body, where the only time you felt full of his love was when he stuffed your sore cunt with his aching cock. where the only time you could cry about him was when he was reaching your sweet spot so good, you almost completely forgot why you were even in his arms in the first place.

he'd feel warm tears land on his exposed, sweaty chest. and he wouldn't even mind it, assuming you were just feeling so good because of him. or maybe he did know, but he was too pussydrunk to stop and just hold you. why couldn't he just hold you?

simon was half asleep, laying on his bed stomach first and his hand dangling over the queen sized mattress. dark grey covers sprawled out messily across his lower half, a mix of sweat and your juices drying onto the thin material.

his eyes watched as you stood up, searching for the clothes he had thrown off you. you could feel his icy blue eyes piercing through your body, and you felt so naked in this moment. aside from the fact that you were literally nude, you felt so exposed. so alone, vulnerable. it was a nasty feeling you couldn’t get rid of, as you struggled to put your stretched out underwear on, watching as the lace on it that was once neat and sewn on, now ripped with a few strings of yarn hanging off the sides. simon never cared about being delicate with you, he couldn’t even spare your clothes.

your bra was next, followed by your similarly stretched out shirt and jeans. words weren’t exchanged between either of you, there was nothing to say.

this was how it was. after you had both reached your climax (you haven’t, not since that one stupid night), he wouldn’t say anything to you. whether you were changing into your clothes to leave, or he was dropping you off at home. he said nothing, a man of no words. and you didn’t once complain.

you walked up to the small mirror placed above his dresser, fixing your smeared lipstick and trying to detangle the knots in your hair, in a desperate attempt to look clean. the aftermath of your nights together always left you looking so fucked out, and it only made the pit in your stomach grow.

“you got a li’ stain back there.” simon mumbled, his face against the cold covers of his bed. you turned around to face him, he wasn’t even looking at you.

your hand reached to your calves, to where a few droplets of his cum remained. you hadn’t even felt it, it was almost fully dried down now. you weren’t sure why, but the feeling of the cum drying down and tightening your skin made you more upset than before. maybe it was the lack of aftercare, it was probably that. you can remember the only night he ever cared enough to take care of you after sex.

“did so good f’ me, love. i got you now, get some sleep.” simon whispered, his legs tangled with yours as he held you so close to the warmth of his chest. his warm covers wrapped around your naked bodies, his big hands hugging your body so close to him like he was afraid you’d go away if he didn’t. you were clean, well fed, and you didn’t even move a muscle.

you’d sworn you’d never felt so much love before. so much intimacy, you could cry. and you did. just a bit, before simon wiped away your tears, consoling you before you could start full on sobbing.

“you’re okay, love. so precious.” he chuckled, his face buried in the crook of your neck while soft kisses trailed down the curve of your neck and down your arm, his hands lifting it up as his mouth traveled all the way down to your fingertips.

and that night was the first and last night you meant something to him. it was good you didn’t get used to it, but it didn’t stop you from expecting that one day, he’d offer to clean up his cum from your face, or the curve of your back. it didn’t stop you from expecting a soft kiss on your forehead after he filled you so deep with false promises, with praises telling you how good you did and how much you mean to him.

"thanks." your voice was hoarse, you tried so hard putting on this nonchalant act that seemed to get you nowhere. you mirrored him, trying so hard to give the english man a taste of his own medicine. though he swallowed without a budge, disregarding the bitter taste on his mouth. he didn't care. not a care at-fucking-all.

there were no further words exchanged between either one of them, simon remained on his bed while you grabbed the remainder of your belongings and headed out the door, body limping from the harsh fuck you endured. he was so good at making you feel like shit, physically and emotionally.

and maybe it was the change of temperature in the air, or his cum still leaking from your sore pussy, or maybe it was the way you could still feel his mouthwash on your lips. you found yourself marching back to his door, knuckles banging against it a bit harsher than you intended to.

you could hear a groan and the heavy sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor beneath him, as he swung the door open, the gust of air lightly hitting your warm face.

"forget somethin' ?" simon looked down at you, with that same stupid unreadable expression on his face. he remained shirtless, with his black boxers having been put on in a hurry as the lining of it was a bit crooked from his hips. his neck bruised up from your earlier assault, hair still all over the place from the result of your own hands. your lipstick still smeared on his own thin lips.

"yea- no. no, i didn't." you pushed past him, catching him by surprise as he stepped aside and shut the door behind him. your breaths became more unstable, your heart beating in your ears as you could hear a million tiny voices telling you to go.

run, you dumb bitch. there's no use in talking. run.

he sighed, already aware of what was to come as you sat on the edge of his bed with that all too familiar conflicted look on your face. your brows furrowed and your teeth nibbled on the inside of your cheek. simon didn't bother saying anything as he walked over to the corner of his room, mini fridge sat in the middle of the cold floor as he kneeled down, grabbing a water bottle. the sounds of his bare feet stomping around, and the creak of the armchair that remained against the wall across from you filled the silent space. simon spread his legs out just a bit, just enough to remind you of how it felt being in between them.

"i can't keep doing this."

"doin' what, love?"

"this, simon. you know what i'm talking about, you can't dance around the subject because i won't forget. i won't ever fucking forget."

"look, you're a sweet girl. you're fun an' all, but bloody 'ell you are so fuckin' annoyin' ." he laughed dryly, almost like he was mocking you. simon's patience seemed to run thin, as he stood up, walking over to you and towering your figure. in this moment, you'd never felt so small and defenseless before in your life. it felt like all eyes were on you, when it was just him and you.

"well i am really sorry, si. i'm sorry i want to be something other than a quick fuck, i'm sorry i don't wanna stick around waiting for the day you tell me i'm not just useful for only that." angry tears pooled in your eyes, and you didn't bother wiping them as they fell.

simon looked at you in a way where you swore he almost felt pity for you, and you'd rather not feel anything from him at all if it was just out of pity. he remained silent, looking at you with blank eyes. nothing was left in those ocean blue eyes.

"and i know you made it clear that we want different things, and i thought i'd be okay with that. and i know it's my fault for sticking around despite the fact that i'm just hurting myself in the end, but you're just at fault if not more. why couldn't you do the sensible thing and stop seeing me? stop coming back to me and treating me so good for a minute then leaving me to clean myself up and leave without a fucking goodbye?"

"a man has his needs, a'ight? i'm not gonna give up an opportunity to get a quick fuck. there, is that wha' you wan'ed to hear?" his accent ran thick through his words, which were coated in venom. each word was so enunciated, so harsh. it hit you like a ton of bricks, though your gaze didn't wander off and you didn't dare walk away.

"i really don't know what else i gotta tell you, love. this," he pointed at himself, then you. "isn't happening. not today, not tomorrow, not next fuckin' week and surely not the week after. you are free to stop talkin' to me because 'm tellin' you for the last time, i don't want you. i don't need you."

you really wished he lied. just this once.

salty tears streamed down your face and you couldn't do anything but stand there as he simply watched you. your sobs echoed in the room, and simon finally sighed, wrapping his arms around you.

"no use in cryin', it won't change my mind. 'm sorry, love, 'm jus' not the man for you. please understand that." he whispered against your forehead, planting a light kiss on the warm flesh. you wondered why it took you to be a sobbing mess in his arms for him to have a heart, but you didn't question it. you knew now, it was better not to question anything.

you didn't move away as he caressed the sides of your shaking shoulders, the flat of his fingertips rubbing circles on the warmth of your skin.

"i hate you for what you're doing to me." you'd cry, while simon gently kissed your hair.

"i know." he'd reply.

and that was the last time you ever spoke to simon. he didn't text you after, not to check up on you, to make sure you got home, not even to apologize. but what was there for him to be sorry for? he didn't lead you on, this was all your doing. it was your fault for staying and expecting for him to come around, to grow to love you.

you didn't text him, either. not to go off on him, to tell him how much he meant to you and to beg him to atleast try and feel the same. you didn't text him when you'd see him out in the city, hanging out with the group of people you met him through by the pier. you didn't text him when he started hanging out with a new girl, who seemed to bring out simon's genuine smile more than you ever did. you didn't text him to ask why he always had his arm around her when you saw them, you thought he hated pda, he told you so himself. and you didn't text him when you found her social media, spending hours stalking her feed to learn that she'd been posting him from the moment you two stopped seeing eachother. and you surely didn't text him when she announced their engagement via a lengthy paragraph online, only a few months after the two of you cut all contact.

did i cry while writing this perhaps is this based off my current situation perhaps. this was a little shorter than i anticipated but i hope you all enjoy part two of this evil evil story.

@going-through-shit i hope u enjoy!!

[n0tamused]

*holds u at gunpoint* dr ratio helping u study for an exam/ quiz. Am i going through an exam rn? Yes. Will it stop me from reading ratio fan fics? No

A/N: *points a second gun at you* better watch where you're going cowboy. And felt this so bad, procrastination is killing me too, but Dr. Ratio fics never fail to make me feel something again, delulu is the solulu but only for a moment. Anyway, anon, hope you enjoy this blurpp, I wish you luck on your exams! <3 Wrote this while procrastinating myself, I gotta lock in tomorrow hhhhhhh

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, can be read as modern au, fluff, possible grammar mistakes (I'm about to pass out)

“Here” A porcelain cup slid your way over the polished wood desk. It was a pretty off-white, rimmed with a golden line and another purple one, thinner than the gold. Tea steamed from within, wafting off the soothing floral smell. You sighed, quickly averting your glance back at the books open before you. There were two books, thick and intimidating, and your open notebook you were reading your scribbly notes from. 

Circling around you Veritas’ looming frame cast a shadow over your papers for a moment before he seated himself in the chair next to you, his own cup in hand. “You're still on the same problem as when you started?” He clicks his tongue, nursing a sip of his tea before setting it aside when he appears satisfied. You didn't have it in you to respond, wishing to avoid any form of an outlash, especially taken in the fact you had already told him how you struggled with procrastination for quite a handful of days. He has given his advice, but they failed to make the spark with you last long enough to properly sit and study, and that all caused guilt to claw at your belly from within.

Veritas, on the other hand, didn't seem half as phased as you thought he'd be, at first he didn't even notice how your eyes looked at him in a silent plea for mercy. His amber eyes looked over your notes, at all the scribbles and marked words, letting out a low “hmmm”.

“And tell me, what is it that has you so stumped about this? It's quite an easy equation” he wondered, a little taken aback it was taking you so long on this, yet he had to remind himself that this material was new to you, unlike him who has seen this material countless times over. You weren't dumb, however, so what is it..?

“I.. don't know... The results I've gotten previously make no sense and they do not match the one the professor got in class. His is the right result, and I don't get how every time I did the problem, I got a different result” you began, voice initially quiet as if begging his ears to become deaf to your words, but your plea went unanswered. His keen eyes regarded you with a strange curiosity, his chin leaning on his hand.  Only now did he realize how tense you looked. He blinks at you owlishly, studying your features for a brief moment before turning his gaze back towards the papers. “That is a problem.. Where is the formula your professor used? Do you have his equation as a whole written down here?”

You looked at him and then at the papers, eyes flickering all across the written words and printed text.  “I.. I do.. Yes, why?”

A scoff came first, “Why, so I can take a look at it so I can help you. You did ask me to help you, did you not?”, then his large hand picked up the pen you had abandoned on top of your notes, motioning for you to show him the notes. “We can go step by step and then compare the progress to see where your problem lies” 

Nodding, you were quick to breeze through the old notes, paper pages fluttering as you went over each one until finally reaching a page so full of equations it made your head hurt. With your finger you point to the one you were currently trying to figure out. “This one.. This is just a copy of what the professor did on the white board.. and this is the formula he used '' you showed him, letting him slide the notebook to his side of the desk when his fingers pinched the corner.  

Silence engulfed the room, and for a long while you could only watch as Veritas’ expression changed from focused, to confused and then to frustrated. 

“Are you sure this is what the professor wrote down? This is entirely incorrect. The formula alone is wrong, and the process of his calculations is just abhorrent.. What is this-” he slightly nudged the notebook away from him, offended by its contents, to say the least. 

Like a little wet rat, you held your hands together, feeling guilty for all reasons you shouldn’t, a pout playing about your lips as you nodded. “Yes.  That is what the professor wrote! One of my colleagues even took a picture at the end of the class since she was too lazy to write it all down herself, so I know for a fact I didn’t copy the notes wrong” you rushed to explain as your eyes glared at the offending problem. 

“That is ridiculous” Veritas grumbled as he opened the big math book a few pages back from where you had opened it, searching for the formulas, and pointing towards one he softened his tone. “This formula should have been used in this problem. It is similar, yes, but the functions can’t be any more different from what your.. professor used” looking down at your notes and at the problem afterwards, he sneered, seeing that the formula was used once again in the next equation. “I don’t know what your professor was thinking, but repeating the same mistake twice is beyond ignorant..” 

“What..? So..? So he is in the wrong?”

“Yes. Now.. show me the way you did it. And do it with this formula I just showed you” Veritas instructed, his nose scrunched up in disgust, although none of it was directed at you but rather at this person he didn’t even know. Perhaps he should go and meet him, just to see the face of ignorance and negligence in human form. 

Following his advice, you did as he asked, working on the problem with Veritas sitting at your side, his eyes occasionally flickering to the remaining problems that would follow this one.

“There… Is this right..?” You pulled back to allow him a better view of your writing, and it didn’t take the brilliant Veritas Ratio too long to check that you were - in fact - right.  His face eased slightly from its previous tension, sighing he gave a nod of satisfaction and acknowledgement. 

“That’s right. Well done” Veritas says, voice significantly softer as he addresses you, before turning sharper once more. “I knew something was wrong when you got stuck on this for so long. You managed to solve all those problems I gave you yesterday, which are arguably much harder than this and much more complex with extra steps.. Hmph, can’t believe someone didn’t point out this error in your professors work” 

Veritas leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest in a comfortable fashion in which he usually sat around you, his whole composure softening, but through and through, it was the Veritas Ratio you always knew. Hope lit up in your eyes at the unraveling of this problem that nearly had you sick to the stomach for this whole day.

“So..I know this?..Does this mean I won’t fail..?

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course you won’t! You’ve got me to teach you, and let me be damned if you fail”

A victorious cackle left you as he said so, feeling free of the clutches of madness this exam has put you into, and as to celebrate you all but flung yourself onto Veritas, hugging him.

The sudden embrace surprised him and made him stutter, but his arms were quick to find their place around your body, scoffing, even as he tucked his face into your shoulder.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Even more thinking about getting assimilated into the retired 141 polycule.

[part one]

[part two]

Part three (the good NSFW stuff) below the cut

‘Earn it?’ You spit back at Simon, sitting up as the incredulity of his request hits you.

‘Earn it.’ He repeats, staring you down with a grin as he waits for you to give in.

You really don’t want to give him that satisfaction. You could do it, too. Outlast him.

Sit back on the sofa, comfortable into the coverage provided by Gaz and Soap’s clothes, not giving Simon anything until he changes his attitude. Until he comes to you on his knees, begging for the privilege of your time, so he can show you how he fucks Soap.

You could. But, it would take all day. And, take so, so much effort. You’d have to spend all that time waiting, resisting the urge to give in yourself, to satisfy the curiosity of what Simon had going on under that tight shirt. Now, when it was just the two of you, that wasn’t so hard, but if the others took it upon themselves to get involved, to intercede on Simon’s behalf, leaning down to whisper in your ear that you can have your way next time, just let Simon have this one, please… He’ll fuck Soap so good if you do… and, you know, earning it will be a hell of a lot of fun, too…

Ghost grind victoriously when you start to strip, struggling as you move too quickly and catch your arm in the sleeve of Kyle’s shirt. You pull on it harder, hearing some of the stitches tear before you can pull it over your head and toss it aside, hurrying to stand up as you kick Soap’s boxers down your legs, leaving them hanging from one ankle as you walk towards Simon.

He reaches for you, allowing you to use his hands to steady yourself as you climb into his lap, settling on his slowly tenting jeans. Simon spreads his legs wide underneath you, the denim rubbing against your thighs as they’re pulled wide in turn. You hiss at the feeling and Simon catches it, cupping your back as you wordlessly shift against each other until you’re comfortable.

Simon doesn’t complain when your hands land heavily on his chest, grabbing the material of his shirt and feeling the fatty muscle hiding underneath, as he slides his hands down your back to cup your ass instead.

‘Go on, now,’ He murmurs. ‘Not going to make me do all the work, are you?’

‘You haven’t done any work yet,’ you reply, but start grinding on his lap, rubbing yourself up against his jeans, feeling his dick get even harder against you.

Simon gasps softly when you press down on him, gently tilting you back as he looks down to see where your body is pressed against his.

You hold yourself there, reaching up to the collar of his shirt with the intent of pulling it off, only for him to start tapping his fingers on your ass.

‘Don’t stop now that we’ve got an audience.’ He nods over your shoulder.

‘Don’t mind us, just watching.’ Kyle says, from behind you.

‘Why just watch?’ You reply, not glancing back at him as you start moving again, sitting up in Simon’s lap, pressing your hands against his abs as you push your hips up.

‘They’ve got a point.’ Ghost leans back on the cushions, squeezing your ass tight.

‘Okay, fine, you’ve got me.’ Kyle sighs dramatically, but slips up behind you, running his hands down to your hips, guiding you into a faster rhythm. ‘I’ll do my bit.’

‘Course you will.’ You hear Price grumble, as he appears from behind you too. He pecks Kyle on the cheek, then moves around behind the sofa, tilting Simon’s face back to kiss him.

The sight makes you and Kyle gasp in unison, pressing into each other as Simon twitches underneath you.

‘Ask John to choke him.’ Kyle murmurs in your ear.

‘What?’

‘Ask him.’ He insists, trailing kisses down your shoulder, in some kind of silent plea.

‘John?’ You call, feeling your voice crack halfway through his name.

‘Yes, love? Nervous about something?’ John looks up, still holding Simon’s head as a blissful expression spreads on Simon’s face.

‘Will you choke him for us?’

John chuckles at your question. ‘Gaz putting ideas in your head, is he?’

‘No.’ Kyle mumbles, his head dipping behind your shoulder, like he was trying to hide under the pretence of kissing you all over your skin.

‘Sure, sure.’ John says, but looks down at Simon. ‘Hey. You want to be choked down there?’

‘A little early, isn’t it?’ Simon tries to focus his eyes, glancing in the direction of the broken clock.

‘Maybe. But, they asked.’

‘Really?’ Simon tilts his head up. ‘You want to see me get choked?’

You nod. ‘Yes, please. Please, I want to see you get choked.’

‘Good to see someone knows how to ask for what they want.’ Price comments, and Kyle mutters something behind you, but you’re too busy watching as Price and Simon make eye contact. Simon nods, and John slips his hand around his neck.

You swallow, seeing how Simon’s skin disappears under John’s hand, covered in nicks and scars, gently rubbing at Simon’s equally marked skin, before the fingers tighten, and Simon’s hips buck up violently as he chokes.

You gasp, suddenly sent jostling upwards, leaning back into Kyle as he catches you, moaning into your ear at the sight in front of you. Price holds it for a second, gently stroking Simon’s hair back from his face as he watches him, before relaxing his fingers. Simon inhales again, and lowers back to the sofa, Kyle guiding you with him, setting you back in Simon’s lap.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Soap’s accusatory tone cuts the moment short. You look back over your shoulder, seeing him standing there, cup and tea towel in hand, having obviously been dispatched to keep him occupied while you had fun with Simon.

Simon sits up, gently pushing you off his lap, instead tucking you into his side as he stands. ‘Calm down, Johnny. Just getting me ready to fuck you.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’ Soap sets the cup aside, hurrying to Simon’s side, wrapping his arms around both him and you. ‘Been waiting for you to show off.’

‘Just for you, Johnny.’ Ghost cups soap’s head, rubbing his thumb behind his ear. ‘We’re sorry for leaving you out.’

‘Are you?’ Soap, Johnny, challenges, looking around. Kyle and John nod, mumbling something that passes for an apology, before Johnny looks back at you.

You cup the other side of his face, lean in to him and kiss his cheek. ‘We’re sorry, Johnny.’

‘Fuck me,’ he murmurs in your ear. ‘Don’t have to apologise if you say my name like that.’

‘Getting eager, aren’t you?’ Simon mumbles as you lean back, and can see Johnny pressing a half hard erection against Ghost’s thigh.

‘Sure, he is.’ John approaches you from behind, draping a hoodie over your shoulders. ‘Can’t have you getting cold while we wait, can we, love?’

Ghost half snorts a laugh, looking keenly at John. ‘Don’t pass off territory marking as kindness.’

‘Don’t act like you don’t want to see them in one of your masks.’ Kyle responds at your other shoulder, helping you pull the hoodie on, but leaving it hanging open, unzipped in the front.

‘Masks?’ You ask, glancing at Kyle, who kisses your shoulder before covering it with soft cotton, his breath fanning over your neck as he turned his kisses to the skin there.

‘Simon has a taste in balaclavas. Skulls, specifically. Has a big collection,’ Soap starts narrating, before Simon presses his hand over his mouth, silencing him.

‘It’s why we call him Ghost. And, he likes to see us in them.’ John finishes, tucking you close to his side, as the three of you watch Simon struggling to keep Johnny close to his side, as Soap tries to squirm out from under his hand and keep spilling Ghost’s secrets.

‘I’m down. Maybe not now, but… sometime.’ You meet Simon’s gaze as he looks at you, and groans softly.

‘Oi, don’t cum before you’ve fucked me.’ Johnny pokes Simon’s face, drawing his attention back to him.

‘Like I would.’ Simon glances at John. ‘Your room or mine?’

‘Let’s go for mine. The sofa’s comfier.’

‘Go get settled, then.’ Simon turns his entire focus on Johnny, leaving the three of you to trail out of the room.

John leads the way, setting a quick pace as you hurry after him. Kyle whines behind you, trying to grab hood of you and missing, only coming up with a handful of hoodie, pulling it half off as he trails after you.

The door John opens leads into a much larger bedroom than the one you’d you’d shared with Kyle and Johnny last night.

‘Is that a king?’ You stare at the massive bed against the back wall. It stretches almost wall to wall, leaving only a narrow pass to get in and out of it without crawling in from the bottom.

‘Nah. Bigger, something, some state king.’ John mumbles, going to straighten the covers as Kyle leads you to the sofa.

‘What?’

‘S called an Alaskan king, right?’ Kyle glances over at John as he pulls the hoodie back around your shoulders.

‘Yeah. Something like that. We needed something that would fit all of us.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yeah. It’ll do five too.’ Kyle pulls you down onto the sofa (comfy, as advertised), settling you between his legs as he grabs hold of your thighs. ‘If we all cuddle up.’

‘I think I can manage that.’

‘Knew you would.’ John joins you, gently pulling you free from Kyle to sit between them, one hand on each thigh, as John presses a kiss to your temple. ‘You’re good like that.’

‘Course they are.’ Simon announces his and Johnny’s entrance to the room, Johnny waving as Simon leads him over to his he bed. ‘Did a number on Soap, though.’

‘Oh yeah, they did.’ Kyle chuckles. ‘I forgot that.’

‘Do tell.’ John sounds amused, glancing at you as you frown, confused, searching through your memories. You remember sitting in Johnny’s lap, clutching at his neck, kissing every inch of his skin…

Ghost pulls Soap’s shirt off over his head, revealing bruises scattering down his chest from his collarbone.

You remember kissing skin, licking skin, Kyle’s voice in your ear, telling you how to suck, gently bite, mark him up, declare your territory, all over his skin.

‘I taught them how to do that.’ He’s smirking, squeezing your thigh, trying to take credit for your work.

‘I know how to give hickies.’ You grumble, tossing his hand away, and move yourself into John’s lap.

‘Course you do.’ John mumbles, gently soothing you by rubbing a hand down your back. ‘Don’t let him get to you. Just keeping watching Johnny over there.’

You sigh, leaning back on him as you turn back to Simon and Johnny.

Johnny’s naked now, helping Simon strip to reveal his equally hard dick. The pair of them seem to be entirely absorbed in each other, moving like the rest of you aren’t there.

So it seems, until they’re both naked, pressing against each other as Johnny holds Simon’s dick in his hands, asking him, begging him, to suck his dick, just for a little bit, get Johnny good and brainless, ready to be fucked like he likes, and Simon considers his head as he considers it.

He holds Johnny up like that for half a minute, maybe more, before he pushes him down onto the bed, pulling him to be in the right position, completely mucking up the work John had done making the bed, as Johnny moved to hang his head over the edge of the bed. Simon reached down to hold it steady , cupping his hand over the back of Soap’s head, before finally glancing over at you as he takes hold of his dick.

Gaz groans to your right, pulling his joggers down to let his dick out. John shifts you closer, nodding to Simon.

Simon looks back at Johnny, leaning over to brush his dick against Johnny’s lips as he opens his mouth eagerly, huffing out air before Simon pushes his dick into him.

Soap groans as his mouth is filled, his eyes sliding closed as his throat bulges. Ghost runs a finger down it, groaning as he cants his hips forward.

‘Fuck…’ John groans underneath you, shifting as you feel his dick harden. You slide off his lap, back to between him and Gaz. The hoodie slips from your shoulders in the process, as you get a front row seat to Gaz slowly stroking his dick at the same pace Simon is fucking Johnny’s throat.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You murmur aloud, without thinking.

‘You want him to do that for you?’ Price tilts his head close to your shoulder.

‘Which one?’ Your eyes flick between them.

‘I mean, both, for sure.’ Gaz groans at John’s words, muttering something about not putting images in his head, as John continues, ‘but I think I meant Soap.’

‘He’d do this for me?’ You look at Soap more closely: spaced out, sucking dick, clutching at the sheets for stability as he hangs off the bed, tilted at an angle for the three of you to enough watching him, rather than his own comfort.

‘This, or something like it. He likes having his mouth full.’ Price’s words make you bite back a moan, as you imagine having Soap’s mouth moving down your body, desperately taking in whatever you had to offer, to make him feel full.

Price chuckles as you lean his head back on his shoulder. You feel his arm shifting beside you. He must be touching himself, like Gaz has been this whole time.

‘Fuck,’ Gaz bites off, tilting his head back as he lets go of his dick. ‘Fuck, Simon, just fuck him already.’

‘Patience, Gaz,’ Simon says, looking admonishingly at him. Despite that, a moment later he pulls Soap up, gently brushing his hands over his face, moving Soap around again as his dick hangs heavy and leaking between his legs.

‘I’ve been patient.’ Gaz tries, before you flop onto his shoulder.

‘Not for me, you haven’t.’ You pout. ‘Haven’t touched me or anything.’

‘You’re capable of touching yourself.’ Gaz gripes, trying to shake you off.

‘But I want you to.’

‘Come on, Gaz. Listen to them.’ Price chastises over your shoulder. ‘Touch ‘em like they want.’

Gaz sighs dramatically, and turns to you. He nudged you around so you’re sat leaning back on John, who’s still slowly jerking himself off, glancing back and forth between you and Soap, as Gaz runs his hands down your body, gently rubbing you at the same pace that Simon is fucking his fingers into Soap.

Johnny’s whining, squirming that he wants more, more, he’s fine, Simon, just fuck him please, desperation edging into his voice as he glances up at the depraved tableau on the sofa, as you take hold of Gaz’s dick in your hand.

Simon rolls his eyes and gives in, slowly pushing his dick into Soap once, before pulling back to fuck him hard and deep, twisting their bodies to give you the best view. Simon pulls Soap’s leg up onto his shoulder, letting you see Soap’s dick bouncing, leaking precum against his abs with each of Simon’s thrusts forward, as Soap clutches at his arms, begging for more and more and more, until Simon’s had enough.

He drops onto his back, as Soap scrambles to follow him, to keep Ghost’s dick inside him, ending up sat in Simon’s lap, squirming because he’s so full of dick, as Simon pats his ass and tells him to ride if he wants to finish.

John groans under you, his hand stilling as Kyle leans over your shoulder and kisses him, before John relaxes, and you feel him shift, catching you against his chest as he moves his hand to sit on top of yours, upping the pace on Gaz’s dick, as your own had started to slip when you felt it twitch in your hand. Kyle groans, and you feel his hand stutter on you, before resuming, dragging you closer and closer to orgasm with him, as you all watch Soap rock and and forth on Simon’s dick.

Johnny groans louder than anyone when he cums, his hands hitting the bed by Simon’s shoulders as he leans over him, making direct eye contact with him as he cums, hips rolling as his cum covers Ghost’s abs, before falling forward onto him, telling Simon that if he wants to fill his ass up he has to hurry.

Simon’s groan when he does just that permeates your mind, as John makes sure you and Gaz come at the same time, shaking as you press against each other inside John’s arms.

He chuckles, and kisses you both in turn, before Kyle tries to mash all of your lips together and once, and Simon has to step in to break it up.

‘Easy, now.’ He pulls Kyle from your lap, ignoring how you reach for him as Simon pulls you up to cross the room on shaking legs, in order for you to get into the bed with Soap, who immediately curls up to your side, his mouth hanging open, pressed to your skin your hands find their way to his head, gently stroking through his mohawk.

‘You know…’ Soap mumbles after a minute. ‘Only one thing I’d change about you.’

‘What?’ You say, not sure if you had heard him right.

‘Your last name. MacTavish would be much better.’

‘Nah. Garrick’s better.’ Gaz piles into the bed behind you, having been similarly helped across the room.

‘I reckon Riley.’ Ghost supplies, as he and John stand at the end of the bed, looking down at the three of you.

‘You should take a photo. They lasts longer.’ You curl one of your arms each around Soap and Gaz’s shoulders, keeping them close to your sides, like they had been when you woke up.

‘There’ll be plenty of time for that.’ John chuckles. ‘Pretty sure all of our good cameras are in storage.’

‘Yeah.’ Ghost confirms, wiping Soap’s cum off him with a shirt. ‘But, we’ll be clearing it out anyway, for them to move in.’

‘That’s true.’ Price nods. ‘Could have you all settled by the end of the week, love.’

‘Tomorrow, even.’ You think Simon is joking, with that, since even with the best will in the world, no one moves house in less than 24 hours.

‘Today.’ Soap half springs up from your side. ‘Why not by today?’

‘Because I want to cuddle today.’ You respond. You really don’t want to get out of this bed now. You barely wanted to get out of the first one, and now you have decided that you’re absolutely not getting up again.

But, if you hadn’t gotten up, you might not have made it here. In the biggest bed you’ve ever been in, two hot as fuck men at your sides, and two more climbing in to join you. Four men who would be there for you tomorrow, too. And the day after that, and that, for as long as you wanted them to be.

You snuggle back between Gaz and Soap, content to spend the rest of your day the way it began.

[live-laugh-lenney]

plz can you write something where the boys tease Arthur TV because he’s so obsessed with you

(i have so many requests but I don’t wanna be annoying lol)

I love your writing!!

i made it holiday related again because i'm really feeling in that mood right now... hahaha.

arthur was enamoured.

he'd always thought yn was pretty and very beautiful and seeing her in a holiday scenario, where she was relaxed and enjoying herself, his infatuation had doubled... tripled.... and then quadrupled as the days of their holiday went on.

the way her striped bikini clung to her in the right spots, the way her hair was pulled back into the messiest bun upon her head to keep it from getting wet (to save having to wash it again because she gave it a wash the previous night, she claims), the way her sunglasses sat on her nose and protected her eyes from the bright light, the way her skin was so beautifully kissed by the rays of the sunshine and how she had practically tanned from the moment she stepped foot out in the open.

he tried to take his eyes from her as she floated in the pool whilst she sunbathed but, sometimes, she was all he wanted to look at.

"i'm not being funny but," george stands to his feet, the sun-lounger beneath him scraping against the floor of the patio area lining the pool of their villa, catching arthur's attention and he walked over in his direction and leant over the back of the lounger that the man was stretched out upon, "if your mouth opens any further, you'll choke on flies."

"shut up," arthur grumbles under his breath, feeling his cheeks turn a rosy red colour which he wasn't sure would be visible due to how red his face had gotten under the harsh croatian sunlight that soaked his skin all afternoon, embarrassment running through his body at how he had been caught staring at one of his best friend, "i thought you were asleep, anyway."

"what? so you could stare at her like a weirdo? no, i was entertained watching you try and hold back a boner," george snickers softly and arthur shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger, "why don't you just say something to her? or at least, shag her and get it out of your system. this is almost unbearable to watch."

"because that's gross behaviour and i'm not that kind of man," arthur mumbles lowly, reaching for his phone that he had placed in the shade underneath his sun-lounger as a way to distract himself, "i'm not after a shag. she's my friend, she's our friend, and i don't want to ruin the dynamic between all of us. that's not fair."

"she'll soon get creeped out with your staring and that really will ruin the group dynamic," george teases and arthur shrugs off his hands from where they were placed on his shoulders, "she'll clock on soon, you might as well tell her."

"no," arthur hisses back, shaking his head before glancing down at his phone and unlocking it so he could divert his attention from the bikini-clad girl floating in a ring on the surface of the pool with her headphones on her head as she listened to music whilst soaking up the sun above, "how you speak about her when she can't hear you is gross sometimes."

"she knows i'm only joking," george holds his hands up in defence and walks towards the open patio doors of their villa as he was bored of lazing for the afternoon, leaving his towel to try on his lounger as he took his belongings from the table and held them tightly in his hands, "i'm going for a shower and then for a nap before anyone else grabs the bathroom."

-

"where's yn?"

"you mean to tell us you've had her surgically removed from your hip?" chris asks, in feigned shock, from where he was stretched out across the sofa in the room, "you're joking?"

"what?"

arthur rolls his eyes and ignores the laugh that came from arthur hill as he done up the buttons of the shirt hanging down his torso, a bold print decorating the cotton material that matched the colour of his shorts buttoned to his waist.

"if you must know, she's just finishing up getting ready in her room and she'll be out soon," arthur hill says, picking up the open can of lager that was set on the table beside her phone, taking a swig from the top before he placed it back down, "can you cope for a couple of minutes without her?"

"you guys suck," arthur grumbles and shakes his head, reaching into the fridge to grab himself a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a hefty swig of the golden liquid hidden behind the metal, "you make it sound like i'm some obsessed freak."

"you are," chris insists, standing to his feet and picking up his own can of his chosen beverage for the week from the coffee table that was a mere stretch from the sofa and arthur could only muster up throwing the middle finger in his friend's direction, "hey, that's not nice. i'm only telling the truth, arthur."

"if you keep taking the piss out of me in front of yn then she's going to start hating me for being a weirdo around her," arthur frowns and chris just snickers at him, "seriously. i'm not a weirdo. she's just-"

the sound of a door opening made him stop mid-sentence and he gave a pleading look to his two friends that wordlessly begged for them not to tease him in front of her. as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, the three men busied themselves in putting on their shoes and grabbing their jackets so that they were ready to leave once everyone had come together in the lower level of the villa.

it felt like a schoolboy crush. and, of course, he was planning on telling her just how he felt about her... he just wasn't sure when or how he wanted to tell her. he wanted it to be perfect, romantic, not in the earshot of his friends who would, no doubt, tease him for being such a simp in the situation.

"you look beautiful," arthur compliments her as she brushes passed him to grab the denim jacket she had draped over the back of one of the dining table chairs the previous night, "ready for another night on the town?"

"i don't think i can keep up with you guys again," she laughs softly, slipping her arms into the denim sleeves and adjusting it so it was comfortable on her shoulders, "i was coming back early tonight, i've got a bit of a headache. think it's just from being in the sun all day."

"do you want to stay here tonight? the boys can go out without us?"

"us?"

her eyes soften as she looks at him, his eyes darting from her face to anywhere in the room, unwilling to make eye contact because he felt silly for assuming she'd want him to stay behind with her. and he could feel the eyes of arthur hill and chris staring into the back of his head, which he wished would stop, and he was certain they would snicker about the situation behind his back.

"i mean, someone should watch out for you, just in case."

"i think i'll be fine, arthur," she reaches for his arm and squeezes it softly and reassuringly, "i'm starving so it could be to do with that. i'll just play it by ear."

"what are we playing by ear?"

george makes himself known as he walks around the corner, dressed in a pair of chino shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt that matched the same colour. sunglasses on his face, phone and wallet in his hand, socks on his feet that were ready to slip into his trainers.

"arthur's hoping to bring yn home tonight," chris jokes teasingly and arthur swings around on his heels, eyebrows furrowed on his browline and he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole, "i'm kidding. yn's not feeling a hundred percent so she might come back early. arthur offered to stay with her if she needed to come back here."

"oh, that's kind of him," george smiles, sending a wink to arthur that he was surprised yn had completely missed, "what a sweetheart he is."

"i'd do it for any of you," arthur insists - he wouldn't, unless they had asked him to, "can we go? i'm hungry."

"have we decided where we're going?"

-

"is everything okay?"

arthur's brought out of his daze by the sound of her voice, soft and sweet and angelic, the only voice he wanted to hear. he turns around from where he was sat on the stones on the beach, knees brought up to his chest as he leant back on his palms, looking up at her as she approached him.

"why are you down here by yourself?"

"just wanted a bit of quiet time to myself," he explains and she sits herself down beside her, making sure her dress stayed covering her modesty as she stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her palms in a similar fashion to him, "you didn't have to come and check on me. we should be checking on you."

"my headache's gone now," she smiles, looking across the water and watching as the waves crashed against the shore, "i'm worried about you now."

"i'm okay," he nods, "just want to enjoy the serenity of the scenery. it's beautiful out here. you kind of take it for granted and miss it when you're back home."

silence swallows the two of them, except the atmosphere was full of all kinds of sounds; the chatter of passersby as they went on a look for their chosen restaurant for dinner, the waves crashing against the stones, the crunching of stones as people walked back up from the water... and, in the distance, they could hear the raucous laughter of chris and george and arthur hill as they joked amongst themselves.

"is it the others?"

"the others?"

"they've been teasing you a lot today," yn informs him and he sighs heavily, letting out a deep exhale before rolling his head back and looking to the sky, "i've heard it, arthur. i think it's sweet."

"the teasing?"

he feels confused and weird; what was sweet? surely, if she heard the teasing then she could piece things together...

"no, you muppet," she giggles softly and turns her head to look at him, "i'm not weirded out that you've been staring at me, you know? i, uh, i've kinda been doing the same, i guess."

he looks at her, for the first time since she sat down beside him, and he gulps back the lump in his throat.

"not at myself," she blurts out, "but, at-"

"at me?"

she nods shyly and he can't help but feel the flips in his stomach as he felts knots tighten and loosen low in his gut.

"you haven't heard them teasing me, have you? the last three days of being here, they've been non-stop laughing at me. they think it's funny," she laughs softly and shakes her head, "they practically forced me to come over here and tell you so-"

he stares at her and she can see his brown eyes from behind the lenses covering them up, and she sighs.

"i wanted to come over though," she adds almost instantly, "to see if you were okay and to stop their incessant jokes and pisstakes. they're only trying to help, i guess?"

"they're annoying," arthur grumbles lowly and she can only hum out in agreement, "but, i guess, they know us both too well. almost far too well, i think."

"you coming back up for dessert? i ordered you the same as me," she smiles, moving to stand to her feet, standing before him and holding out her hands for him to take, wiggling her fingers in an enticing way, "come on, you. we might as well face the music."

"what do we tell them?"

"nothing if we don't want to say," she smiles and he takes her hands, and she uses all her strength to pull him to his feet, their fingers entwining together, "or, i don't know, we could just... take things slow this week? figure stuff out?"

he nods softly.

"i like that idea," he grins, dropping one hand from her hold but making sure to keep a tight grip of her other, swinging between them as they made their way back up the beach and back to where their table was located at the front of their restaurant, "reckon they'll leave us alone now?"

"god only knows," yn laughs, "we can only hope." xx

[forallnumbersosc]

Gaty!! didja get any intresting information from the "exitors" ??

- 🍁Maple Anon

[OOG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD TO PROCESS TPOT 11 WHEN IT CAME OUT IM STILL ON AN AUTISM HIGH FROM IT]

ALRIGHT!! I've gotten what I can from the EXITors and compiled all of my notes, it's time for me to show my findings on!!

The EXIT!

So what IS the EXIT?

The best thing I can gather having not been there myself, is that it's an extra-dimensional space that exists within Four. Whenever something is eaten (or... in Four's words "zooped") by Four, they shrink down to accompany the initial "space" of Four's mouth, AKA the only place in his body that is closest to following the laws of Physics... Once you enter that door, things get WAY stranger....

I should also preface that we don't know for sure if every algebralien has such a space, as we have only observed these in Four, who seems to have far more power, or at least.... he decides to use far more power than other algebraliens... It's entirely possible that Four is the only one who has the ability to house a space like this!

LAYER ZERO: The Entrance

Diagram legend:

Four's mouth, one of the entrances to the EXIT. Appears much, MUCH higher up once anything enters Layer 0. This diagram does not show the true depth of how far the floor is from Four's mouth.

Four's OTHER mouth. His main tool of contestant transportation when contestants get eliminated... It's not very visible at all, you'd have to pull back Four's mane to even see it, and even then it's also invisible from the other side!

Skin?? Layer?? Honestly I don't know what makes up algebralien skin aside from the fact that in Four's case it acts as the catalyst for the initial "shrinkage" of anything that enters the space... It also seems to give Four a weakness to fire!

The EXIT door... The entrance to the rabbit-hole...

Strange trees. I don't fully know why these growths populate this area and beyond, as they don't seem to have any sensing function such as taste buds or stomach cilia, but I believe they were the first creations Four practiced on when constructing his inner world... he does think about himself quite often.

LAYER ONE: The Classrooms

Starting with a simple algebra classroom, Layer One is a seemingly endless collection of rooms down a long, winding network of hallways that range from other typical classrooms, to portals to areas outside of the EXIT, and even strange, nonsensical collections of things that are.. well... according to Pencil, "don't deserve a description"...

This layer was the only one accessible to the EXITors for months on end before Liy decided to take a peek behind the curtain... Since I believe the EXIT's vast characteristics were created from personal aspects of Four, it makes me think of just how much Four keeps hidden away about himself... Why does he like school so much??

LAYER TWO: The Fourest

Feeling claustrophobic? Take a trip to the scenic and expansive Fourest! I consider this a bit of a "hub" of the EXIT, as it seems like the most widespread place to put different entrances to other, deeper areas, as well as, of course, the pathway out...

Compared to the classroom, this area is the most "organic" in terms of literally being comprised of Four... The classrooms themselves contain a percent of material created from his own body, but it seems a lot has been taken from outside and placed within... This area, however, is pretty much all him. its thanks to this area that I was able to take some small samples stuck to the EXITors clothing.. and i am SO excited to study it! Ahh!!

LAYER THREE: Below...?

[can you tell this is when mod's hand started to get tired/lh]

The descriptions I got from Match, Liy, and Stapy were pretty... odd... to say the least for this wacky pocket dimension, and its certainly where my knowledge of the EXIT seems to come to a close, as the closest the EXITors got to any deeper level was this strange little castle full of even stranger secrets.... You must admit, Four might be cruel but he has an eye for architecture!

Out of the other layers, this one seems to be a combination of both Four material and outside material, making me wonder if this is where Four keeps his best kept secrets or... maybe even his insecurities?

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Oh yeah... I heard about this... thing that some of the EXITors encountered... From what I know it seems to be simply another part of Four rather than a thinking creature of its own, but it's certainly hard to say!

I'd like to give a thank-you to Pencil, Match, Stapy, Liy, David, and 8-Ball for your contributions to my research!!

...and an apology to Bracelety, Dora, and Firey Jr for er... bringing up such a frustrating and-- well... traumatic event for this information--

...While I must admit I don't enjoy the fact that the EXIT left these fellow contestants a pretty awful impression of algebraliens, I really am glad we have them back!!

PHEW!!! Now that I have most of my information on the EXIT finally on here, time to get back to some of the other questions I got!!

[coco-hun]

My Zuzu!

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Let talk about how Izuku would be the perfect boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. Like forgot Bakugo tough but soft love and Kirishima gym rat love and look at how Zuku is like total boyfriend material!

-- Izuku who when he first discovers your pretty face quickly asks you about your quirk and backstory even how you got your hero suit designed! Writing everything you say with a quickness, but he doesn't even notice himself writing notes about your appearance like how your lip pucker when in thought, your eyes simmer when you talk about your favorite thing about your hero design, and how quickly your face animates itself to a new emotion every few sentences. After meeting him he makes a huge effort to get to know you besides your quirk and heroic morals he wants to know everything about you even things about your parents (he used those facts for when you start dating)

-- Izuku after months of being your friend fighting alongside you and you tending to some of his scars he starts to have more unfriendly thoughts about, and no not any freaky stuff more of he hates how you laugh at every flirty joke Denki makes or how he love that you fuss over him and his recklessness he just eats up every new hairstyle you get, every new shoe, new dress he just hasss to complement you making you smiles at him so hard he blushes under that gaze you give him. Too bad it took practically a whole pregnancy for him to confess!

-- Izuku would when makes dates makes sure he gets everything perfect from a small date to a cafe he gets you a tiny allmight keychain as a momentum, dates at the aquarium? a jellyfish plushie is in your arms by the end of shark's exhibit, a concert for the two of you favorite band? Oh, baby got a favor from Bakugo to get you their new album. He makes sure any cuddle dates are so cozy and warm so you can't leave his arms; with pillow forts and fresh popcorn and a cute Disney movie with his strong arms around you warming you up nicely. Izuku who covers you up in his bed is you fall asleep fist and gets one of his allmight plushie and places it in your arms

-- Izuku who is always touching you doesn't matter if it's your leg on his thigh or his hand holding your pinky, he just needs to touch you if you're going to be close to him but what about far away? He has a whole keychain of allmight that everyone knows is his and he attaches it onto your bag and boom now everyone even your teachers know your " Zuzu Baby"

-- Speaking of Zuzu baby, he loves pet names and since his name Izuku has about fifty names in it you choose ' Zuzu' which when you first called him it he face reddens a bit since you always gotta call him babe or baby he naturally registers his name to be Zuzu. He's a boy who doesn't care if his friends hear you call him this name because you call him it out of love and he can't ask for more, I mean your his baby what the need to go getting mad because you didn't call him Midoriya he doesn't even call you by your real name you baby, pretty boy/girl, beautiful, pretty, anything he could think of that remind him of your called it

-- Now even though he's soft he ain't no punk he just doesn't really get bothered by mean commets anymore (he was quirkless majority of his childhood this dude got more thick skin than Bakugo) he just laughs awkwardly and when alone he talks all his shit

" And Bakugo gonna call me useless!?"

" Nooo baby why you didn't say nothing?"

" He got kidnapped and nobody wanted to save him but Kiri! I would be pissed everyday too"

" Omg! Izu stop!"

-- Like Zuzu is messy also he was a quite kid y'all so when you thought he wasn't listening HE WAS, and since your if s/o then bookie he is talking so much shit and gossip with you to the point you look at him differently like where did my softy go? He just said he would whoop Todoroki's ass if he called him a mutt

" Baby really?"

" It'll take a while but I could!"

" Shoto? The fire and ice combo package?? You could whoop his ass?"

" If I was called a mutt! He'll have two scars"

Yea... he talks too much but, he gonna back it up especially if it was about you. He cares about your mental a lot so if you ever tell him you're feeling a bit down simply because a hoe talking shit, he got 508 Instagram accounts to troll them, and you'll never know

-- Izuku who is only a boy so sometimes that cute miniskirt gets the gears in his head turning, in his room right behind the hero journal he got a little book filled with drawings of you so detailed it almost creepy, a small page of you drawn in many lewd styles. Every make out session you feel hi hand twitch trying to stop himself from touching our hips or to fondle your chest when you cuddle

-- Izuku who when the time is right will show you, he isn't just Zuzu baby all the time his mind evreytime you change clothes wondering what will happen if he takes a peek at your naked form?

-- 'That'll never happen though, Izuku is too much of a sweetheart to be a perv right?' You think looking at him scribble in his book today you're in his room studying, you ask to see his book and he blushes shaking his head and hides the page from. After a few minutes he gets up to go to the bathroom now your chance!

Getting up from your spot you take a peek at the page and it just a drawing of you listening to music from earlier with cute love notes along the side, smiling you hide the page again not looking at the page behind it with you drawn with your tits out glistening in the sun.

We love Zuzu!

[the-peak-tmnt]

I want to say that I like that your fic is mostly Raph centric because those fics are rare and he deserves more love and pain lol

Raph: Mom says it's my turn with the trauma

Thank you so much! I'm seriously so grateful for people who are willing to give a Raph-centric fic a shot!

I knew writing Raph-centric fic that's also a Mutant Mayhem fic was gonna turn a lot of people off from giving it a try, which I totally understand because I usually go for Leo-centric fics myself lol. It also doesn't help that Mutant Mayhem still isn't super popular.

But Mutant Mayhem Raph is an exciting new version of Raph that's been SO fun to explore, and I'm gonna go on a little rant about why I'm enjoying writing (and torturing) him so much!

[Initiating Raph Rant] So, almost all Raphs are tough guys who also wear their hearts on their sleeves, which is what makes him such a fun character. He's "the angry one", but usually also super emotional in other ways:

Because MM feels more like an actual teenager than most other iterations, his moments of emotional vulnerability feel particularly raw and relatable. I might be old as dirt now, but I do still remember what it was like to be a teenager still trying to figure out who they were and what they wanted in life.

Mutant Mayhem does such an amazing job of hitting on those teenage insecurities and desires. The turtles whole goal in the movie is to be accepted. All teenagers feel like outsiders and want acceptance at some point. That teenage desire for acceptance is amplified for the turtles because they're not just teenagers, but mutants as well. The moment where Raph's voice sort of wavers as he says "we're never gonna be normal" breaks my heart every time, because they're so sure acceptance is completely out of reach for them 😭

...but the MM boys do get acceptance by the human world by the end of the film. Raph even seems to find his place own at Eastman on the wrestling team in the post-credit scene.

I think this is what has turned a lot of fans off MM, though, because the turtles' need for secrecy and using their ninja skills to remain hidden has always been an integral part of the TMNT franchise. Personally, I actually love that departure from the typical TMNT format and talked about it once before.

But there are some traditional TMNT elements that I did miss in MM, one of those being the fact that in most iterations, Raph is an outsider even amongst outsiders. His anger is what alienates him from his brothers at times, and it often gets him into trouble. It’s also what almost always leads to his friendship with Casey (another outsider).

Tales of the TMNT isn't out yet, and we don't how this series will give Raph that traditional outsider treatment, or if it will at all. They could save it for Mutant Mayhem 2, but that's still years away. And even then they might decide not to go that route because so far, MM Raph's rage has mostly just manifested in a propensity for fighting & violence rather than interpersonal issues with his brothers & other people. His rage is even framed as useful in the final fight against Superfly.

So anyway...as canon stands right now pre-tottmnt/MM 2, Raph is an "insider". He and his brothers can have a life on the surface, and Raph even seems to have found his own place at Eastman on the wrestling team. Again, I'm all for this happy ending and a brand new experience for the turtles, but I was also missing my personal favorite flavor of Raph...which is angry and alienated lol.

After I saw MM in theaters, I started looking at a lot of the concept art and other production material floating around on the internet and I came across this concept art by Garrett Lee:

And it was like "oh shit, there he is! Outsider Raph!"

He looks so lonely and separate from everyone else here, and I was obsessed with this idea of Raph somehow still being an outsider even after the mutants were accepted by humans. But again, we're still waiting for tottmnt and MM 2, and even then there's no guarantee we'll get an Angry & Sad Outsider Raph out of either of those.

So I asked myself "how can I ruin MM Raph's life so that he's as lonely and miserable as he looks in this concept art???"

...and Reciprocity was born 😅

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.

Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.

(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)

Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.

As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.

I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.

I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.

I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.

I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!

When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.

Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.

If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.

I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.

I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.

[koolades-world]

(really, you can tell me to stop if I’m asking too much!) Hello hello! Another idea popped in my head! If I may request an established relationship with fem! MC and Satan: The day before history exam she stays up quite late to get as much done as she could. She scores low, barely passing. So she evades Satan all day because any time she even looks at his direction she starts tearing up the disappointment he might feel even after helping her. Even during dinner where she normally sits with Satan, she sits with Asmo instead and absolutely avoids any eye contact. All that exhaustion, despair, and knowing her behaviour with Satan that whole day leads her to break down in her room. Meanwhile Satan approaches her room with a soft knock and voice offering help. After coming into her room, MC cries harder apologising to him about being a failure, doubts her worth, and mentions how he deserves someone much better who can really keep up with his intellect. Satan comforts MC using prompts 32, and 35! Again, edit the premise to your liking! Have a lovely day/night ahead!!

omg hi again wow so crazy seeing you here haha. no but fr it's great seeing you again :)

i love how this is the like the other side of the coin from the request i wrote yesterday, but it still ends in cute satan fluffy comfort. i love my little wrath cutie haha

sorry for no post yesterday! thought i had something queued and got sidetracked hanging out with friends :)

enjoy <3

prompts 32 and 35 w/ Satan

“You’re gonna do great. Stop stressing. I believe in you and your abilities.” That’s what Satan said to you the previous night while helping you study before you went to bed. You’d stayed up essentially all night studying even after Satan had left, and told you to get some rest. You’d really thought you’d made progress with the content, and even felt confident on the exam. For the rest of the week, your spirits were high. That quickly changed as soon as you got the test back at the end of that week.

When the professor put your test face down on your desk, you had an awfully familiar sinking feeling. After glancing around to make sure nobody was leaning over your shoulder, you flipped it over to see your score. It was a high D. Passing and slightly better than usual, but just barely. It was disappointing to say the least. After all that work you’d put in, especially the night before was for nothing. You knew you didn’t have it in you to face your boyfriend. Not after he’d helped you so much and allowed you to borrow his study materials. What had been the point of all that if your score was only a little better than usual.

While it didn’t solve your problems, you were set on avoiding Satan for the rest of the day, maybe even weekend. You couldn’t look him in the eyes after that defeat. You crammed the test into your bag, and tried your best to focus on the rest of the lesson, and maintain a semblance of normality with everyone around you. Pretending you were fine wasn’t too much of an issue until you caught sight of your favorite blond demon. You’d agreed to walk home with him today. Any other time, you’d be thrilled for such a privilege. Now, it felt more like a curse. He’d told you he’d believed in you, and you’d failed him. You felt as if you weren’t worth his time, and instead opted to head home with some friends instead. You told him they wanted to check out a store which is why the plans changed. Since he was a loving partner, he told you that was fine and that he'd see you later. But, rather than going out like you'd told him, you walked with them as far as you could and went back to the HoL.

You went up to your room, and hid the test underneath a large stack of papers on your desk. You tried to distract yourself by doing things such as reading, playing some games, watching Deviltube, and even scrolling on various social media apps, but nothing was working. You felt absolutely crushed and even remembered that the test was in the same room as you bothered you. The fact that this was the same room you'd been so confident that you'd studied well in just yesterday was like a knife to the heart. The only thing you could think might help take your mind off your utter failure was a nap. You didn't usually nap after school, but it was all you had.

At some point later, likely a few hours after you shut your eyes, Asmo woke you up with a knock at your door. "Mc! Dinner time!" He sounded as chipper as usual.

"Be right out." You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn't look too bad, so you decided to just get dinner over with so you could get back to resting and avoiding your problems.

"I feel like I've hardly seen you today. I have so much to catch you up on." Asmo took your arm and began talking your ear off. You nodded along, only half listening. It wasn't his fault, but you tried to engage with him to try and distract yourself. When you got downstairs to the table, Satan wasn't there yet, so you didn't have to look him in the eyes when you sat between Asmo and Belphie. Those who were already present seemed a little confused by this fact, but after they heard what Asmo was talking about, they made no attempt to question either of you.

At first, you thought you might be fine, but all of that went out the window as soon as Satan took his usual seat. You would normally sit beside him, but he noticed as soon as he sat down that you weren't in your seat, and instead next to Asmo. You knew he was trying to make eye contact with you, but you wouldn't. You couldn't if you didn't want to burst out into tears. As soon as dinner was over, you were the first to leave the table. Nobody made an attempt to follow you, and you hoped you could spend the rest of the evening by yourself. Maybe you'd feel better tomorrow.

You laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when you heard a knock at your door. You remained silent, waiting for a voice from the other side. 'Mc, it's Satan. Please let me in. I'd like to talk." While you knew he probably just wanted to comfort you, it only caused you to spiral. You couldn't help but think that your behavior and that awful test score might have made him want to break up with you. After he heard you sniffling, he gently cracked the door.

"What's the matter?" Satan sat down beside you, placing a hand on your back. When you didn't answer, he tried soothing you. "I'm here to help. I'm not upset with you, or anything. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but please don't shut me out." There was nothing you could do to slow the tears. The two of you sat together without speaking for a little bit before you trusted your voice again.

"I got a D on that test that I studied really hard for. The one you helped me with." You felt ashamed saying it out loud.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me today? Love, I'm not mad at you. I know how hard you worked, and the fact that you tried is all that matters to me." He swiped away the tears his thumb, flicking them away.

"It didn't matter. I still did bad." You mumbled.

"I'm sure you still improved, right? That shows that your efforts paid off. Besides, if you're worried about your grade, there's still time to get it back up. I'll help you." Satan sounded hopeful.

"I'm not worth your time. Clearly I'm beyond help. I didn't improve that much. You shouldn't worry about me." You were trying to avoid saying those words, but you felt, no, you knew he could find someone who was more suited for him.

"I care about you. I help you because I love you. I enjoy our time together, and I know how resilient you are. You don't give up, and that's very admirable. To me, you're perfect. I don't care what anyone else says." He hugged you.

"You deserve someone smarter than me, someone who actually understands the lessons and doesn't fail every test. You can do better than me," you told him.

"Have I ever told you you're my favorite human?" Satan proposed a theoretical question, trying to look at the situation from a different light.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." You didn't know how many humans he knew outside of you and Solomon, but the bar didn't seem very high.

"There's many reasons why you're my favorite. You see me for me, and you're my number one supporter. In comparison to everyone else I know, I haven't known you nearly as long, but yet you're still at the top of that list. You're so special to me. Do you think I'd throw everything we have out the window just because of a test score?" He turned to look you in the eyes. You looked back, seeing the sincerity in his gaze.

"Are you sure?" He sounded like he meant it, but you could never be too sure. It could all be some cruel joke and he might take it back at any moment.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm lucky to have found such a catch like you." He gave you a smile, one that made you fall for him initially.

"I love you." While his words didn't erase the bad score, you felt much better about it now. He loved you for you, not because of superficial reasons like you feared. It was strange in retrospect that you found comfort in what some might consider the devil himself, but you were both happy, and that's all that matters.

[nerdieforpedro]

20 Questions of Writers 📑

I was tagged by @frenchiereading @avastrasposts and @maggiemayhemnj (Bless the three of you. You know a dissertation is coming 🤣🤣🤣) 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 81 works on AO3. There are some that are there and not on Tumblr yet. As to why, some of them are other series I haven’t finished or I’m not sure if I should post them here.

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

As of today: 351,908 words (updated for a new chapter of one of my works)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently: Pedro Pascal, Oscar Issac, Garrett Hedlund and might dabble in Call of Duty (maybe)

No longer writing: Marvel

4. Top Five fics by kudos: (some of these were written long ago, when Nerdie was a wee one in fandom)

Sard’ika Sessions (the most in kudos and hits- it tells me ya’ll like Din being a soft dom and using several different tools, maybe at the same time?)

Our Journey Across the Star Ocean (people enjoy the way I write Din maybe?)

The Viper Longs for Foliage (the one fic I have about Oberyn Martell - I don’t feel I write him well but people feel differently I suppose 🤔)

The Best and the Worst Day (AO3 only - Chris Evans fix it was a phase 🫣)

I want him to see me (AO3 only - I had to look up what this was lol Sebastian Stan fic)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I make sure to go through my inbox to reply to anyone who was nice enough to leave me one. ☺️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I finish fics regularly 👀

Scarlet Stains and their Echoes Such angst with a Backstreet Boys joke thrown in. 😆

7. What is the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

This is a three way tie (cheating because Nerdie is not above it) between Sard’ika Sessions, The Lake Between Us and Parts of you Mr. Morales. Each fic has a different Pedro character - Din, Ezra (I had to give him something happy 😭) and Frankie.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I’ve seen. I totally thought I would and that’s why something stay on AO3 or in the WIP folder but so far I have not. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

9. Do you write smut?

I used to. I used to write a lot and enjoyed it. I find now that when I write smut it’s awkward and takes me at least a month to finish a smut scene because despite watching and reading reference materials (porn and other awesome smut fanfic here and on AO3) I don’t have the same mojo when writing it any more. I feel a bit sad about it, but there’s nothing that’s worked. It’s not like I don’t have thots. I just can’t get them in a fic. 😭😭

10. Craziest Crossover?

I haven’t really done many. One m/m fic where Din and Poe crossed blasters (pun fully intended), one sandwich with a female reader, Lucian Flores and Benny Miller, My Tim Rockford series where Dieter is his brother and that’s about it I think 🧐

11. Have you ever have a fic stolen? Not that I know of. So happy I’m in my small weird little box 📦

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Nope I would be open to it but I dunno how the process would work.

14. All time favorite ship? The Razor Crest, it has room for passengers. 😆

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Such heart ache 😣 My first series that I started was with Dave York (he was done so dirty dammit!) and it was pretty smut filled. Felt with him and the OFC’s messed up dynamic as well but because of all the smut and how I can’t seem to write smut to save my neck now, it will likely go unfinished. 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe just the weird plot ideas I can make and dialogue. That’s about it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing a fic, SMUT, weak comedy (I can’t resist it though), fixating on small details that don’t matter and everything that wasn’t listed as a strength. What is writing really? Can I make the words go together? 😨

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Pretty cool, just make sure you ask a native speaker in that language to look over things before posting. I have found that some of my Spanish is too literal and no native Spanish speaker is actually going to say that. Plus each language always has little nuances you need to take into account.

19. First Fandom you wrote in? Marvel 👀 Look it was a phase dammit! 🫣 Leave me alone. 😭

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Nerdie will cheat again, because this is her post! 😆 I enjoy all my fics. Otherwise, why would I write them? But one stands above the rest. It gives me all the feels, giggles, some funny banter, smut that took a damn month to write and inspired @soft-persephone to tag me in a meme that @boliv-jenta made, Weddings 101 with Dieter.

If there’s one fic that I feel has the majority of my writing (all styles and facets) in it, Weddings 101 would be it. My humor, agnst, attempt at making a villain and sub-plots, slow burn romance with a goat as Dieter’s ride or die. 🤗 That trash panda gave me a lot so I wrote him a wild ass series. 😋

NPT: @tinytinymenace @megamindsecretlair @perotovar @pedroshotwifey @lady-bess

@djarinmuse @alltheglitterandtheroar @inept-the-magnificent @lotusbxtch

@jeewrites @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @jessthebaker @trulybetty

@rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @saturn-rings-writes @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @magpiepills

@secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @goodwithcheese

[icycoldninja]

Hello! I have an idea for a (fluff / angsty?) request with Vergil - might be a little long sorry abt that

Basically after dmc5 he returns from hell with Dante and he has some loose ends to tie, one of them being mending his relationship with his s/o (aka neros mother). I was thinking maybe she worked for Dante as a devil hunter and V gives subtle hints of his true self but she didn't catch on until the big reveal. I dunno if that'll be good enough so feel feel free to add on whatever!

Thanks for reading all this if you do and have a nice day :)

Nah, nah, it's fine. Have a MOTIVATED day yourself!

Lots of catching up to do (Vergil x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

You knew something was odd about this "V" fellow the moment he set foot through Devil May Cry's door. You'd been visiting your employer and friend Dante at the time, and happened to be present when the mysterious man showed up, cane and book in hand. You recognized that book; it was an old copy of William Blake's poetry that Vergil used to tote around, occasionally reading excerpts from it during his downtime.

Ah, Vergil. It'd been a while since you heard that name, or even seen the man, for that matter. The last time you had an interaction with him was years ago on a moonlit eve as you said goodbye to him for what you thought was the last time, right before he departed in his quest for power, and just a month before you discovered you were pregnant with your son Nero.

You were lost in thought for a while, barely even noticing the fact that V was staring you straight in the eyes, a smug smirk on his face, as if he knew something you didn't. You wanted to question him, but knew it'd be better to keep your mouth shut. You, Dante, and the rest of Devil May Cry's staff had a mission to complete.

Imagine your surprise when V insisted on you accompanying him and Nero into the Qliphoth, only giving you a vague, meaningless reason you didn't care to remember. It seemed he just wanted you nearby, even though your skills would be better put to use on the front lines, with Dante, Trish, and Lady.

After the first assault failed and mostly everyone crawled back home, defeated, you found yourself being followed by a tall, skinny, emo-looking man whose name was one letter long. Why he was still following you around despite the separation of the devil hunting team made no sense, but since he was somewhat friendly and didn't seem to have ill intentions, you let him stick around.

Some time passed while you tended to your son, whose arm had been ripped off not too long ago, and over time, you two had to charge back into the fray to save the city from more demon attacks. V disappeared for a while, but you didn't mind, since your focus was on helping and protecting your son. Nero always came first in your mind, because he was the only piece of Vergil you had left.

V eventually returned, in terrible condition, bringing with him Dante, who had been found half buried and covered in blood in a hole near his shambling house. Though none of you but V knew it, the moment all four of you stood together was one of the rare moments when the whole Sparda family was all in one place.

Then V scampered off, trying to find Urizen before the others did, and while an inner instant compelled you to follow him, you decided to go with your son, because again, Nero always came first. You ended up running into V once again, except now he had all the structural integrity of a soggy marshmallow, and needed to be carried between the two of you to his final destination, where Dante was duking it out with Urizen.

After the beast had fallen, V broke free of yours and Nero's hold and scrambled on top of it, which was when he jammed his cane right through its chest and exploded, bringing forth an individual you never thought you'd see again: The father of your son and the love of your life, Vergil.

The hope and joy you felt as you watched him materialize was nothing short of incredible; now you saw why V was the way he was, why it was so soothing to be around him, and why he chose to stay with you. V was Vergil. In a way, he'd been with you all along.

You thought that this would be the end of everything, that now, after so many years, you all could go home and be a happy family. You couldn't have been more wrong, for not one minute after finally returning, Vergil went off to the top of the Qliphoth to fight with Dante, Nero following after them, with you being the last to catch up. You arrived just in time to watch them dive off the demonic tree into the underworld, and felt all the happiness drain out of you in an instant.

There he goes, again, this time taking Dante with him. Oh well, you decided. You'll have to devote all your attention to your darling son, who surely needs more comfort than he's letting on.

Several months passed with you and Nero dedicating all your attention to exterminating demons that lingered in the land, feeling sad over the departure of the Sparda twins, but unlike most, you two vented your stress and worry out on demons, by killing them. You two were doing somewhat fine; Nero was still struggling to cope with the fact that Vergil was his father and you never told him, and you were still heartbroken. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Vergil knocked on the front door right as you were getting ready for bed.

"Vergil?" You gasped as you opened the door.

"Yes," Vergil replied, expression as grim and stoic as ever. "I...I'm home, Y/N."

"You came back from Hell...but how? And where's Dante?" You asked, not entirely sure if this was reality or you were dreaming again.

"He is at his shop," Vergi, replied, sternly. "Do not concern yourself with him. Where is our son?"

"He's upstairs, why?" You said slowly, wondering if he had ill intentions at heart.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," Vergil answered, a warm smile flitting across his face for just a second. "All three of us."

"That we do," You agreed, chuckling as you took the half devil by the arm and dragged him into your house. "Nero! Come down and meet your dad!"