#anyways enjoy this self indulgent stupid stuff who cares anymore

[mustasekittens]

congratulations christopher!

self indulgent near-future in which when christopher graduates high school buck n eddie take hiim to hawaii to celebrate and they all have a nice vacation over here. friend n i were brainrotting it a bit and we decided buck definitely hyperfixated on hawaii and stuff (history, nature, geography, mythology, etc)

[sukirichi]

acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Belonging

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 4606

Content warnings - lots of angst, insecure MC, Mammon is an ass at first ‘cause he’s a tsundere

Prompt/inspiration - self indulgent comfort piece

Summary - That one time when Mammon’s tsundere tendencies broke your heart.

AO3

You had been so stupid. So foolish. So naive.

When you first met Mammon, he took your breath away. You had never seen someone just so...beautiful. It was an honest to goodness love at first sight moment, something that you didn’t even believe possible until then. Yeah he seemed a little harsh, but you convinced yourself it was just because he was shy and easily embarrassed. As soon as he got to know you better, you were sure he’d calm down a bit and open up to you.

It was slow going though. Just when you had started thinking you had finally managed to become friends with him, something would happen that would send you back to square one again. For every step forward you took, you would inevitably take 3 steps back.

But after a while, things did eventually seem to be going your way. He’d come over for movie nights. You were allowed to hang out in his room. He no longer stuttered out excuses when he would walk you to and from RAD. You had started to feel comfortable. Like maybe everything in your shitty life up until now might have actually been worth it because finally, FINALLY you had someone who genuinely enjoyed being around you.

Until today, that is, when you were not-so-gently reminded of your place.

The night began like any other Friday evening - a movie night with Mammon, Beel, and Levi. Everyone had gathered in Mammon’s room, snacks were plentiful, and you were getting to sit next to Mammon. As the movie progressed, you casually adjusted your position so that you could hold his hand. But as soon as your palm touched his and he realized what you were doing, he pulled back and yelled at you.

“What the hell are ya doing?!”

If it wasn’t for the look on his face, you would have sworn he was embarrassed. Instead, there was no doubt in your mind just how disgusted he was at the idea of you touching him. You didn’t notice when the movie was paused. Or when the lights were turned on. All you could see were his eyes boring into yours. Looking like he wanted to vomit on the spot at the very idea of having ever been close to you.

“Umm...I...just…” you stumbled over your words, unsure what to say. What could you even say? He knew you had tried to hold his hand. And that’s all there was to it. You made a move, the wrong one, and he rejected you.

“Sorry...I’ll umm...just go…” was all you managed to finally get out, as you made a mad dash to your room. Your cheeks were burning with shame, and tears pricking at your eyes.

How could you have been so arrogant? Thinking someone could actually be interested in a person like you. This wasn’t your home. These weren’t your friends. They weren’t your family. You didn’t belong here. You didn’t belong anywhere. You had let yourself get comfortable, indulging your delusions and fantasies and ignoring all the many warning signs that you weren’t actually wanted here.

Even though Mammon was your official Guardian, the rest of the brothers still did their part to make sure you survived your year in one piece. And you had mistaken this courtesy as actual kindness. If anyone had been nice to you, it was out of obligation or pity. You were so desperate to believe you had finally found a place of your own that you let yourself be tricked into thinking demons would actually care about you.

You should have known better. It’s not like you hadn’t had this experience before. People who tolerated you and then at the first available opportunity cut you from their lives. You knew there was something wrong with you, there had to be, for as many times as this had happened. But since no one stuck around very long at all, you honestly had no idea what that might be. If someone would have just told you, you would have fixed it.

By the time you had made it to the safety of your room, your tears had already started to fall in large, heavy drops. You didn’t make a sound. You were too numb to even sob. You just laid down on your bed, facing the wall, and cried. If you could even call it crying. It was more like tears just poured from your eyes. You didn’t even know it was possible to cry that many tears, yet here you were - soaking your pillow, unable to stop the flow.

At some point, you had managed to get your breathing under control. And then, even your tears dried up. You turned to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out where you should go from here. You still had to make it through the rest of the year, and you had to find some way of doing that peacefully. Maybe if you talked to Lucifer he would assign you a different Guardian? You didn’t really want a different Guardian though, but you doubted you would be able to emotionally handle spending any more time with Mammon. Especially since every time you closed your eyes you could still see that look on his face.

After weighing your options you decided the only thing for you to do really was to put on a happy face. You’d be polite to anyone that talked to you, but you were going to be smart this time. You were going to keep your distance. Not just from Mammon, but from everyone else too.

There was no point in giving yourself the chance to believe you actually could make any friends here. Doubtless it would end up the same way. So you were going to do the minimum - go to RAD, come back to your room, and stay in your room until it was time to leave for RAD again, only leaving with the exception of meal times. No more movie nights, or gaming tournaments, or shopping trips, or restaurant tours. You were just going to keep to yourself and...survive.

————

Breakfast the following morning was oddly quiet. Beel, Mammon, and Levi kept exchanging looks, but you pretended you didn’t notice and just focused on your meal. You had found a comfortable sense of numbness since the previous night, and had now more or less come to terms with the fact you weren’t wanted here and had gotten carried away.

Lucifer had needed to head out a bit earlier to attend a before school meeting with Lord Diavolo, so you asked if you could walk with him instead. He raised an eyebrow at your unexpected request, but thankfully didn’t ask any additional questions. Of all the brothers he was actually the one you were most comfortable with at the moment. Probably because you never had any doubts about the fact he wasn’t overly fond of you.

When classes had ended for the day, you realized that you would need to walk home with Mammon. But after a full day of perfecting your “nice” smile, and mastering how to behave “politely” without taking things personally, you felt better prepared to handle it than you had that morning. Mammon seemed nervous, blushing and fidgeting most of the way. Any other day, you would have asked him what was wrong, but now you were committed to keeping your distance so you ignored him.

Once you arrived back at the House of Lamentation, however, he finally started talking to you before you had a chance to hide away in your room again.

“Uhh...about last night...I…”

“It’s fine, Mammon,” you said, smiling your best, bright smile, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“That’s...I was jus’ surprised is all…”

“Then I’m sorry for surprising you.”

“So umm...do you wanna...try again...maybe…?”

For the briefest moment, your smile faltered. You were quick to correct it, but of course Mammon noticed that split second of hesitation before you answered.

“No thank you. It was nice of you to offer though. But I don’t think I’ll be going to movie night anymore, so you really don’t have to worry about me.”

“Huh? That’s not what I was...this wasn’t about the movie…!”

You gave Mammon another perfect, reassuring smile before leaving him in the entryway, flustered beyond belief at what just happened. He could understand that you might not have known what he was asking right away, but to say you didn’t want to go to movie night at all? That seemed like a bit of an overreaction. Not to mention the fact that the entire conversation just seemed...weird. You were smiling too much for one thing, and he really didn’t like it. He enjoyed making you smile, but this just wasn’t right.

And he couldn’t just let that go.

No sooner had you sat down at the table in your room to begin on your assignments, than the door was flung open as Mammon barged in. You stared at him, stunned, unable to grasp why he had followed you to your room. When he saw you looking at him, he once again got flustered, but was quick to recover this time - he was on a mission.

“Look I know I yelled at ya and all, but that ain’t a reason to skip movie night. Who's gonna feed Beel? Or make sure Levi doesn’t put on those weird anime movies with the tentacles and shit?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage. You had to have worked things out somehow before I arrived. You don’t need to try to include me,” you replied, turning your back to Mammon so you could focus on your work.

“Movie night was your idea! Ya can’t just quit!”

“I said it’s fine,” you could feel your frustration building in your chest. You had wanted to do this peacefully, but Mammon was so stubborn, more stubborn than you had anticipated given his reaction to you yesterday.

“It ain’t fine!”

“Leave it alone, Mammon,” you snapped, stopping what you were doing as you tried to calm yourself down again. You weren’t going to let him get to you. He’d wear himself out and lose interest eventually. You just needed to be patient until he realized he didn’t have to entertain you anymore.

“How can I leave it alone? I’ve said worse stuff to ya before and you haven’t acted like this.”

“I know when I’m not wanted. It’s fine.”

You weren’t about to open up and confide in him all your worries and fears. Even if he was asking out of politeness, you knew he wouldn’t really want to hear about that stuff anyways. He barely tolerated your physical presence, there wasn’t any way he’d want to be burdened with your emotional baggage too.

Mammon was silent for a while after that. He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain. He knew he had fucked up. Badly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you next to him. He did. More than he’d care to admit. Which was actually part of the problem. He didn’t want to admit he cared. Because admitting he cared would mean you could reject him. If you weren’t aware of his feelings, then you would just be stuck with him, and that was good enough for him. It had to be.

At least it had been up until now. Now, Mammon feared if he didn’t say something, anything, he’d lose any chance at ever talking to you again.

“...I wanted ya there…” he finally whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do!” he said, much louder than he had spoken before. Couldn’t you tell he was trying to say that he liked you? That he enjoyed your company? Did you really have to argue with him about it?

“...whatever,” you said with a sigh as you began to open your school books.

“Hey! Listen to me will ya!? I’m trying to say I like you!”

You flinched at Mammon’s sudden declaration.

“And you expect me to believe that?” you replied, your tone laced with venom. You knew what was coming next - his inevitable backpedaling that he always did. Where he made excuses and belittled you and made sure to crush any hope you may have had that he actually liked you in any capacity because the idea of anyone thinking he actually had a soft spot for you was apparently absolutely appalling.

“Why wouldn’t you?! You should feel honored and…!”

“Why wouldn’t I?? Seriously?? You’re asking me that?”

You turned in your seat to glare at Mammon, angry tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Did he seriously think so little of you that he just expected you to believe whatever you told him?

“I dunno Mammon, maybe it’s because ever since I got here you made a point to remind me what a burden I am and how much trouble I cause. Maybe it’s because you constantly dump me on your brothers to avoid your responsibilities. Maybe it’s because every time I try to be nice to you, you push me away and make me feel stupid for even trying. But hey, what do I know? I’m just the dumb human, right?”

By now your tears had started to fall, but you couldn’t even be bothered to dry them. You finally had the chance to get everything off your chest that had been building since you were dragged down to the Devildom and you didn’t feel like stopping anytime soon. Your rational thoughts had long since flown, and all that was left was your extremely hurt, angry, emotional self that was bound and determined to make sure Mammon knew just how much pain he had caused you.

Mammon, for his part, was completely dumbfounded. Personally, he thought he had been doing alright trying to get to know you. He wasn’t used to people actually being nice to him for one thing, so he was always so suspicious whenever you were.

But what he hadn’t realized though, was how genuine all your advances had been, and how much he had hurt you in trying to protect himself.

“I-I-I…”

“I’m not the sort of person anyone likes. I know that. So whatever joke it is you’re trying to pull, just stop it already!”

“I ain’t messin’ around!”

“What are you not understanding here??” you yelled, slamming your hands down on your desk as you stood up to face Mammon, “I don’t connect with people. I’m never the one that gets picked. So just stop it ok?! I don’t know what Lucifer threatened you with…”

“He didn’t threaten me with anything!”

“Oh please, like you actually want to spend any time with me.”

“Of course I do! That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya!”

“...you don’t mean that. No one ever means that.” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tightly, averting your gaze. Your anger had started to fade and all that was left was an overwhelming sense of sadness.

“Why do ya keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true. It’s just what happens. Whatever it is that lets people make friends, I don’t have it. I always think I do, but it never works out. So why would this time be any different? I just...I can’t do this again.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I love you!” you shouted, having finally reached the end of your patience with Mammon’s endless questions. This wasn’t how you had wanted to tell him. But you didn’t know what else to say at this point because nothing else seemed to be getting through to him.

Cautiously, Mammon took a step forward. Then another. Until he was standing right in front of you. You kept your eyes trained on the ground, refusing to look up. You didn’t want to see the look on his face. Not after you had just confessed to him. It had been bad enough when he yelled at you for holding his hand, and you were sure seeing him now would kill you.

But, Mammon didn’t force the issue. Instead, he slowly reached out for your hands, carefully twining your fingers together as he lowered his head to rest it against yours.

“...do ya mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you mumbled, “But it doesn’t matter. It never matters. I’m not good at this stuff.” You rubbed your fingers over Mammon’s hands, playing with his rings as you tried to distract yourself from the conversation you were having. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were so nervous you couldn’t stand it. It almost didn’t seem real to you, to have him standing so close to you, willingly touching you. Perhaps that’s why you weren’t shying away from being honest about your feelings and why you were letting yourself touch him like you were. If it was all only a dream, it didn’t matter anyways.

“It matters to me...I like ya too. A whole lot. And...I’m sorry for makin’ ya feel anything different. It’s just…” Mammon hesitated. This was the most honest he had been with another being in centuries, and his instincts to pull away and run were still strong. But you had been honest with him, and after all the hurt he caused you, it was probably the absolute least he could do.

“It’s just...I know how it feels. Ta not be wanted. And I uh...didn’t trust ya at first. I thought...you would be like my brothers and were just mocking me…”

That last sentence made your heart ache and you lifted your head slowly to look at Mammon. His eyes were closed now, but you could see the tears gathering at the corners and the dampness of his lashes. It was clear to you then that these were his true feelings, and not something he was sharing easily. Without a word, you released his hands, slipping your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. He flinched at the sudden contact, but didn’t waste any time returning the gesture, wrapping his arms around you and hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’d never do that,” you replied.

“Well yeah, I know that now.”

“I think you’re amazing, you know? I always have fun with you. And I like spending time with you. When you’re not acting like I’m the plague,” you teased, turning your head slightly to catch a glimpse of Mammon’s face and the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at his lips.

“S’rry. I think yer pretty amazing too. You put up with me an’ my brothers for starters.”

You laughed softly at his reply, feeling his arms tighten around you as he hugged you closer.

“Do you umm...wanna watch a movie…?” Mammon asked, hopeful that you’d take him up on the offer so he’d have a good reason for staying with you a little longer.

“Yeah, we can do that. I didn’t get to finish the movie from the other night.”

You pulled away from Mammon to grab your laptop from beside your bed, before climbing into it and making yourself comfortable. When you looked up, Mammon was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor, blushing furiously.

“Oh. Do you not want to sit here? Sorry! We can…” you started to ramble, terrified you had made him uncomfortable again and already messed up everything that you had just seemed to fix.

“No! It’s uh...not that...umm…” Mammon said, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, “Do you umm...wanna try...ya know...holding hands…?”

You blinked a few times as you processed Mammon’s request, staring at his outstretched hand that he was offering to you. Was this what he had been trying to ask you about after school…?

“I mean! It’s fine if ya don’t want to!”

“Wait!” you grabbed his hand quickly, before he had the opportunity to pull it back, “I’d like that. A lot,” you said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Can I ask you something?” Mammon nodded as he scooted back onto the bed so that he could sit next to you, “Is this umm, what you were trying to ask me about earlier? When we first got back?”

“Yeah,” now sitting comfortably beside you, he adjusted his grip on your hand, lacing your fingers together and allowing you to snuggle up next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He was nervous at having you so close, but at the same time, he didn’t think he had ever felt more relaxed. There was a certain comfort in knowing that you felt the same way towards him and weren’t going to chase him off for wanting to be near you. He still had a long way to go in the “open and honest” department, but at least with you he didn’t have to hide his feelings any longer.

As the movie played, Mammon found himself struggling to concentrate. You had said a lot of things earlier when you had been so upset that he hadn’t been sure what you meant, or how he was supposed to respond. One thought in particular kept echoing in his mind that he really felt like he needed to address - that you didn’t feel wanted.

“Hey, do you umm, think we could talk?” he finally asked. You paused the movie and closed your laptop, nervous to hear what he had to say.

“Sure,” you replied meekly and Mammon gave your hand what he hoped would be a reassuring squeeze.

“I guess I just want to make sure you know that I want ya around. I know I can be a bit of an idiot at times and don’t always think things through...but that’s how I feel. And I know my brothers feel the same too.”

“Thank you. For telling me.” You could feel your throat tightening and you knew you were probably close to tears again, as if you hadn’t already cried enough today.

“And I’m gonna prove it to ya, you know? The Great Mammon’s gonna show ya just how special you are.”

A small smile spread across your face as you snuggled closer to Mammon. He nudged you gently with his elbow, which only made your smile broaden, and you nudged him in return, causing him to laugh. It didn’t take long for a full on tickle fight to erupt, which only stopped when Mammon had managed to successfully pin you to the mattress. Realizing the position he was in made Mammon’s face flush, but he didn’t move, and you simply looped your arms around his neck holding him in place with a hug. He carefully lowered his body so he could wrap you up in a hug of his own, as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You had been so certain earlier that you’d never get a chance to have a moment like this with him. And part of you feared if you were to let him go, he’d leave for good. But no matter how tightly you held him, Mammon held you just as tight. He too had been waiting for this for a long time and wasn’t about to let you go any sooner than necessary.

—————

The following morning, Mammon was already gone by the time you woke up. The realization stung, but you tried to focus on the positives and pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to let yourself jump to the worst case scenario before you had even eaten your breakfast. You quickly got yourself ready, and made your way downstairs, taking your usual seat at the table. Mammon had yet to make an appearance, so you focused on your food, anxiously waiting for him to join you.

When you heard the dining room doors open, you quickly snapped your head up, smiling as Mammon made his way into the room. He locked eyes with you, grinning, but as soon as he noticed that his brothers were also watching him, he averted his gaze and your heart shattered.

Of course, you thought, how could you have forgotten? Just because he admitted to liking you in private didn’t actually mean he would treat you any differently. The thought made your stomach churn, and you had to fight the urge to dash from the room, choosing instead to return your attention to the food on your plate. This was going to be so much worse now that you knew he was aware of your feelings, you thought, blinking back tears.

Shit.

Mammon had reflexively looked away from you for the briefest of moments when he had become aware of his brothers staring. But almost immediately he had stopped himself and looked back at you to offer you a smile. It hadn’t been quick enough though, and he only caught sight of your face as it fell and you attempted to hide your disappointment. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you. Especially not so soon after the two of you had finally opened up to each other.

And now what was he supposed to do?

Well, there really was only one thing he could think of - Make ‘em jealous.

Taking a deep breath, Mammon walked to his seat, nudging his chair over until it was right next to yours, before finally sitting down. You looked up at him, stunned and confused, and he flashed you his usual cocky grin, which only made your heart leap in your throat. Just what was going on? you wondered.

“Ooo Mammon, you’re sitting awfully close today,” Asmodeus teased.

“What’s it to ya, Asmo? Ya jealous?” Mammon, quipped back as he started serving himself some breakfast. He could feel you staring as you struggled to wrap your head around what was happening, and he smirked, shooting you a sideways glance.

“It’s just not fair that you keep hogging them all to yourself. The rest of us should get a chance to sit next to them too.”

“Enough. It’s too early in the morning for this sort of nonsense,” said Lucifer, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know, dear brother, you’re going to get horrible wrinkles if you don’t get more rest,” replied Asmo, shifting his attention to Lucifer.

Mammon turned to look at you, not at all surprised to see that you were still staring at him in shock. He looked down at your lap, and you followed his gaze as he opened his right hand, palm up, and offered it to you. You stared at it for a few moments, before finally sliding your hand into his. You looked up at him again, only to find that his cheeks were now a very deep shade of red, one that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He was clearly not prepared for how...different...it was going to feel to hold your hand when surrounded by his brothers, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

He was quick to turn his attention to his breakfast, and you did the same, occasionally sneaking glances at Mammon as you ate. Mammon could feel your eyes on him, and while mildly embarrassing, also made him ridiculously happy. Up until yesterday he had been so afraid of making a move in your direction, he hadn’t even stopped to think of the possibility of you actually accepting him. And now that he was holding your hand, he was determined to never let it go.

[mcmoth]

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

 He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

 

***

 

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

…Why did he even do that?

 

***

 

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

 

***

 

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

 

***

 

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

 

***

 

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

 

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

 

***

 

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, “and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

[obae-me]

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for a hc about the demon brothers reacting to an mc who has low self-esteem and uses dark humor as a way to cover it up? Thank you, and I hope have a nice day!!

Thank you for your request! I love angst solved with fluff, and with someone who struggles with low self esteem this is pretty self-indulging. I really hope you like these! 💜

Lucifer

Being more observant than some of his other brothers, he notices MC’s behavior rather quickly.

It really hit him when they missed class one day, bombing an important test. When he came back home he went straight to their room, ready to scold them for hours.

When confronted, they just shrugged and joked about it, saying that they wouldn’t have done any better anyway seeing as how dumb they were. They laughed like it was a fun joke, but Lucifer was taken aback. This wasn’t how humans normally joked around, right?

Being the Demon of Pride, he didn’t understand how anyone could put themselves down so easily.

He noticed more darker jokes like that popping up in casual conversations more and more frequently, and now he had a mind to put a stop to it.

It started with the subtle gestures. The way he talked to MC more softly. The way he sometimes walked next to them with a gentle hand on their back. How every so often he would rub the top of their head anytime they did something good. However, anything he did didn’t seem to be slowing the behavior. So he needed to be more direct.

He approached MC on a night that the self-depreciating humor was especially bad. He met them privately, and lifted their chin with one of his gloved hands while the other rested on MC’s shoulder.

“The House of Lamentation has an image to uphold...so of course we would never have let you in here if you would not have fit in that image.” His face was serious, but his eyes were gentle. “While you are in my presence, know that you...even while being human...are a magnificent being. So I expect these jokes to cease.”

He will now give MC compliments more often than not, and if he ever hears them make another dark joke about themselves, he’ll say their name sternly, and will wait for them to say something different.

Mammon

Doesn’t pick up on it for the longest time. Ever since MC came to the Devildom, he’s always been teasing and jabbing them, calling them names but with nothing harmful behind it.

Anytime he would call MC dumb or stupid they’d always laugh with him and agree, so they must’ve thought it was funny!

It wasn’t until he joked around with MC about how “typically dumb” they were being, not knowing that MC had just went through a particularly tough day. They tried playing it off, but felt different. The joke didn’t feel half as funny after MC smiled a crooked smile and their eyes went watery.

He tried following them to their room but was turned away. Left shut outside the entrance he always seemed to be allowed in. All because of some joke he made. All the things he had previously said struck him in that moment. Had he ever really said anything good about MC since they had been here?

He couldn’t make jokes like that anymore.

Now instead of “stupid human” he would tell them how smart they were to have him around. He would tell MC how cool they were to be hanging with the one and only Mammon. He didn’t let just anyone stick with him, so if MC was there, they had to be special.

Of course all the compliments had to have him in it, but the new smile MC seemed to show appeared much more genuine.

“Hey, human! I mean...MC. You can’t go saying sad stuff about yourself anymore, even if they’re jokes! Because...because...The Great Mammon wouldn’t hang out with people who were actually that scummy! That’s right, you’ve got some great potential, you could even be my apprentice! So don’t...say stuff about yourself like that anymore...”

MC seemed to now find all sorts of new things they had never had before. A new jacket just their size on their bed. A new phone case slipped into their bag. All sorts of gifts just happened to show up anywhere they went. Mammon’s way of saying he cared, since he could never bring it up with words.

Levi

He knows the feeling of low self esteem. He feels like a dirty, good-for-nothing shut-in. But when he heard MC make similar jokes, he couldn’t take it. He was mostly confused. MC had so many things he didn’t, so many things he was envious of, so why was MC of all people feeling that way?

He invited MC to his room to play games, planning on letting them win so maybe they could feel better. Unfortunately he has a hard time letting go of his true try-hard nature, and ends up winning anyway.

MC just laughs at their loss, claiming that it’s just another thing to check off their Loser list. They’d be the winner at losing, on the bright side.

Levi can’t take it anymore. He grabbed the controller in MC’s hand, put it aside and turned off his console. He couldn’t really look MC in the eye, but had to let them know how he felt.  “MC...I can understand me feeling that way but...you’re wonderful, you have everything I don’t, so I don’t want to hear you say anything bad about yourself when-when I’m obviously worse!” 

He’ll attempted to put himself down even more to try to lift MC up. Which MC didn’t tolerate in the slightest.

They argued for a while over which of them was worse, which luckily was short lived. They both sat down in silence, neither of them wanting to make eye contact. That was until Levi gently grabbed MC’s sleeve, tugging it, his face against their shoulder. “Y-you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in my life...I-I won’t let anyone put you down, not even yourself.” He goes on and on about a specific anime plot, where the one of the main characters has to fight their childhood friend because they’ve been put under a curse. After the ramble, he makes sure to clarify by meaning that no matter what you’re going through, he’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. 

They make a new game with each other that anytime one of them says anything bad about themselves, they have to say something equally nice about themselves. The person who loses has to give their favorite possession away. Maybe that’ll keep them from saying anything bad in the first place.

Satan

He’ll read MC like book, so to speak, but he has no idea how to handle it. He’s only read about similar personalities in his stories and occasionally with Levi. He doesn’t know how to best approach MC about it.

He’ll plan it out, probably like a battle plan. If he wants the best possible outcome, he’s going to need everything just right. The perfect setting, the perfect circumstance.

He settled on what he was sure was the perfect outcome, a rainy Devildom day. It was the weekend so everyone was either at home or out having fun. He knew MC was home in their room, so he headed there with several books he was sure they would enjoy.

When MC let him in, he was sure their face was redder than usual, and their eyes a bit more puffy. “Have you been crying, MC?”

“No that’s just how my ugly face looks.” And they laughed.

The plan was totally trashed now. Satan flared up with anger, dropping his books all over the ground. He took MC by the shoulder and pinned them against the wall. He was mad. Mad that someone like MC, someone who made him genuinely feel calm and happy, could say something about themselves like that. Like it was a joke. Like they were a joke.

“Stop saying things like that. How can you just go joking around like you don’t matter?! Do you know how much you mean to all of us?! To me?!” He took a deep breath and loosened the grip on MC’s shoulders, smoothing out the new wrinkles in their clothes. The aura of anger around him subsiding. “I know how to help you out with this, I have some...self help books in my possession. Purely out of curiosity of course. I’ll be here...to read them with you.”

After that Satan makes sure to meet with MC at least once a week to read books together. Stories about overcoming great obstacles, some self-help ones, and stories that make MC feel better in general. 

He’ll also check up on MC frequently, making sure they feel better about themselves, even if it’s just a fraction of what it was before. 

Asmo

It’s not until after they’d made a pact together that Asmo truly understood how MC felt of themselves. Asmo almost felt guilty he didn’t start complimenting them more before then, but guilt didn’t look appealing, but neither did what MC was doing.

He saves up a bit of money to be able to take MC on a massive spending spree. All his treat.

He doesn’t really give MC no for an answer when it’s time, and will drag them to all the greatest Devildom shops. He’ll pick outfits for them he knows will complement them, so they won’t have to be self conscious about their body. 

Will complement MC to heaven and back. Their hair, their eyes, the curves on their body, the way their cheeks look when they laugh. Everything. 

However, all this backfires when MC gives Asmo all the outfits back. “This was fun Asmo...but there’s no point spending money on me when nothing will make me look good.”

Asmo dragged MC into the brightly lit fitting room. He took both of MC’s hands in his. “MC, that kind of talk is not attractive! You can’t say such things when you’re as beautiful as you are! Trust me, there’s no one as beautiful as me, but...you’re a solid second place.” He’ll place a soft kiss on MC’s hands. “You’re stunning, so stunning I...I...I’m going to buy all these things for you right now, and anything else you want I’ll get! Shopping always cheers me up!”

It’s not like him to think of anyone else other than himself, so he got himself all worked up and flustered. But anytime he thought of MC...anytime he imagined that they thought of themselves any less of how he thought of them. It left a bad feeling in his chest that he needed to get rid of. 

Won’t give MC any sort of time to deny or joke around any longer. He’ll compliment them now all the time, making sure they know just how amazing they are.

Beel

He surprisingly pick up on it immediately, even faster than any of his other brothers. The things MC does and says remind him of things he felt when Lilith... He couldn’t let MC do that any longer. 

He tried to solve the problem at first by changing the subject any time any sort of joke like that came up. It didn’t seem to help. Whenever MC had the chance they would make some sort of joke. He couldn’t just try to distract them to help, he needed to fix this. 

He decided maybe it would help their mood if he were to take MC to a fancy restaurant. Just the two of them, so they could talk about it. He didn’t like talking too much but there would be food too. Eating always made him feel better.

While eating, they heard MC make a joke pertaining on how they don’t belong in a place so fancy. Suddenly the food in Beel’s mouth didn’t taste as good anymore.

He’ll stand up and come right over to MC, pulling them out of their chair and into the tightest, most protective hug they had ever had in their life. Bringing MC so close to him, he almost completely covered them with his own body. Some other demons were staring, but he didn’t mind. 

“I’ve always loved food, but ever since you came to the Devildom, food always tastes like a gourmet banquet every time...but when you say stuff like that, MC...it reminds me of Solomon’s cooking.”

MC laughed while against his chest. The laugh sounded different, it sounded happier than when they made those dark jokes. He wanted them to always sound like that. He would do almost anything to keep that sound so joyful. 

Beel squeezed them tighter.  “If you keep joking like that...food won’t taste as good anymore...” 

Learns all of MC’s favorite meals and snacks so they always have something on hand for when MC needs a little boost.

Belphie

He notices MC’s behavior and their sense of humor and tends to be the enabler. He has that same type of humor, so it’s hard to stop, even if he doesn’t want MC to do the same thing.

He feels guilty about this and so he avoids MC for a while, not really knowing that this is making it worse. Whenever he shows up for meals or meets them during class he sees that avoiding them has made the jokes even worse.

He doesn’t want to talk about all the nightmares he’s been having about MC. About all the awful things that happen to them, either by his hands or something he couldn’t stop. He wanted the nightmares to end, he wanted all the self-bad-talk to end. All so he, Beel, and MC could finally have that happy dream. 

 So he takes MC up to the attic, having preparing the bed so it was covered in plush pillows and incredibly soft blankets. Anything he used to make him feel better.

He wraps MC in one of these blankets without a word, and then shoved them towards the bed. He was still learning how to be gentle with a human.

He’s not really good with words, he’s quiet when he’s awake and when he’s asleep, which is most of the time, he doesn’t need to say anything.

So he lays in bed with MC, grasping the blanket he put around their shoulders tight.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I just wanted...you to stop...So stop.” He attempted to be his typical brisk and demanding self, but it fell short. He sounded upset. He picked up one of the pillows in the pile, pointing it at MC like a weapon. “Stop.” He bopped them on the head with it. “Stop. Or I’ll continue to hit you with my pillow.”

He’s not joking. If at any point after that MC makes any sort of joke to try to cover the fact that they said anything bad about themselves, he will gently hit them with his pillow, giving them a long silent glare until they stop.

[kingreywrites]

Beyond Those Trees

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2263

Eugene Appreciation Week Day One: Childhood

Summary: When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree.

Note: i am very very weak for orphanage stories so here is a self-indulgent one asfhdghj also i generally hc that lance grew up for a few years with his parents before losing them (around the time he was six or seven) and then going to the orphanage and meeting eugene, which is why he won't really be there because they haven’t met yet ;;

Read on ao3

When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree. 

He shouldn't have climbed that tree. He knew the matrons at the orphanage would be mad at him, and tell him that he was causing trouble again, that he should stop making it more difficult on them by being up to no good all the time. Something like that, at least; he heard the sermon often enough. 

But, for all that they hated when he did stupid stuff, it wasn't like the matrons paid much attention to him in the first place. Not enough to stop him, in any case. As long as they didn't know, it would be fine, and Eugene knew they wouldn't notice anything if he did it before they checked where he was. So he left the orphanage right after lunch, went to the big old tree not too far at the edge of the village, and decided to climb it. He saw the older boys do it a few days before - they weren't his friends, and so he had been too shy to join them, but now he knew how to do it, and he wasn't gonna wait anymore. 

He wanted to do the same thing as Flynnigan Rider on the cover of his favourite book, the one he was painstakingly learning to read with. On it, the adventurer stood tall on the branch of a tree, looking towards the sun rising on the horizon. The rays of sunlight were the same colour as his treasure, and the golden accents were in relief - Eugene had traced them with his finger time and time again, yearning for a life like this one.

So Eugene climbed a tree. It wasn't too hard, and he was very proud of himself, because he knew the older boys had needed each other to get up there, but he had done it all alone. He reached the thickest branch he could see, stood up tall, and... well, Vardaros was not as pretty as the city drawn on his book, and the sun wasn't exactly rising, but it still looked wicked cool, in his own words.

If you had asked him then, he would have said that this was the best moment of his life.

He was bored after exactly four minutes. To be fair, there wasn't much to do on a tree, and he really wanted to go tell everyone about what he did - except the matrons, of course. Anyway, he reasoned, Flynnigan probably didn't stay there long either, instead running off to go on new adventures, which was exactly what Eugene was going to do. 

Eugene looked down. 

Climbing had taken him mere minutes. He had been so focused on his goal that he did not even stop to think about the height, or anything, really. But he looked down, and suddenly the distance to the ground was nauseating, and the closest branch seemed miles away. Leaning on the trunk, feeling small, Eugene shakily tried to extend his foot towards it, before immediately giving up. 

He... He was scared. 

As he remembers it today, the tree was the tallest thing he had ever seen, reaching towards the sky, nearly on par with the clouds. When he came back during his teenage years - when Eugene wasn't his name anymore and his dreams had drastically changed - he saw the tree again, and realised that it was simply a sad, old tree, who wasn't even that tall compared to those in Corona's luxurious forests.

But he had been five. He had been five, and little, and scared, so he had decided to stay on the tree, and wait for someone to notice his absence. Wait for someone to come help him. 

And he waited. And he waited. 

The sunset had been prettier, bathing the entire town in red and golden light, just like on his book. He hadn't really appreciated it. 

(When he tells this story, he always acts as if he had tried to distract himself, and that was it. He doesn't talk about the tears, and the heart wrenching loneliness he had felt, certain in that way kids were that this was permanent.) 

Exhaustion and fear got the best of him, and he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was still here, and no one had come. 

The sun was rising this time. Eugene got up, looked down, and something clicked for him. No one would come. He was cold, and scared, and hungry too, but no one would come, and so there was only one person who could save him. Only one daring adventurer, ready to brave his fear and save the day.

He tried to convince himself that this hero was him. Despite how terrified he felt, he was an adventurer, he was just like Flynnigan Rider, and Flynnigan never backed down when faced with a challenge.

"If it's not possible, it's not worth doing," he muttered, before jumping to the nearest branch.

Miraculously, he reached it. The same couldn't be said for the next branch, and he fell heavily to the ground.

He remembers pain exploding in his arm, staying on the ground for a long, long time, and then making his way back painfully, stomach growling loudly.

"Eugene?"

Rapunzel's voice breaks him out of his narration, and he looks at her, squeezing her hand lightly. They're both sitting in the special spot he found on the roof, an easily accessible ledge giving one of the best views on Corona.

"Yeah?"

"You said… You said this was a funny story," she remarks, tone hesitant, uselessly tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear.

"It is!" he exclaims. "After spending all day and night away, I was so sure I would find the orphanage in absolute chaos that the whole way back I prepared a lie about going to fight off bandits or something. Imagine my surprise when not only no one had noticed I was gone, but the adults were even mad at me because I was late for my chores!"

He chuckles, and stops when he sees the lack of amusement in Rapunzel's eyes.

"It's funny because… I was being overdramatic?" he tries. Her frown deepens. "Guess you had to be there…"

"You were five," she protests. She's the one who takes his hand this time, an intensity he hadn't expected in her eyes. "You were five, and alone, and- no one cared you were gone?"

He opens his mouth, and closes it, unsure how to proceed. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. And, in all honesty, the way she said it did make the story sound sad, but it wasn't! He… They cared, he thinks, they would have if they had noticed because, at the very least, they would be in trouble with the law if they had lost a kid. They cared… They simply didn't know he had left.

"I got up to a lot of mischief at the time," he finally answers. "They were busy, and probably assumed I was out causing trouble."

Rapunzel stays silent after that. She holds his hand on her lap, and gently rests her head on his shoulder, while they both look at the view. The sun is setting on the horizon, bright and burning, the entire town glowing orange because of it.

Eugene sighs, and finally rests his head on top of hers, enjoying the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. Maybe this story isn't as funny as he remembers it. He's good at turning every little anecdote into something grandiose, entertaining whoever is willing to listen with his lively retelling, but… It's different, with Rapunzel. Everything is.

There's no hesitation to have when he says she cares, for one. Maybe she shouldn't, but she does, more than anyone ever did. She's also the first person in his life he doesn't want to lie to. The first person he doesn't feel like he has to lie to. She saw the worst of him already, saw how much of a selfish, useless jerk he could be, and she… she still loves him, for some reason. It's difficult to phantom, sometimes, and in the last month since their first meeting, Eugene kept worrying that he would wake up someday, and this dream would have ended as quickly as it started.

He's used to being forgotten, after all.

"I think we'd have been friends," Rapunzel whispers, interrupting his thoughts. "If we met, as kids. I think we'd have been friends."

"I was a troublemaker," he breathes out softly, still resting on her, "Sometimes, I acted out some scenes from my books, and it often ended with broken windows. You probably would have found me annoying."

"Oh I don't know, I think I would have enjoyed acting out those scenes with you, Mr Troublemaker," Rapunzel teased. "Though… Maybe you wouldn't have liked me. I was a bit of a crybaby when I was a kid, and not a great adventurer."

For a second, Eugene is glad she can't see him, because he knows his sadness for her must show. His heart tightens each time she mentions her childhood, and he remembers how lonely she had been, all alone in her tower.

"I would have loved you," is all he answers, and it's not even a lie. There's no universe in which he doesn't like Rapunzel, he's pretty sure of that, and even then… He had loved the younger kids, at the time. When he grew up a little, got over his tree adventure, and decided that he wasn't gonna be like the older kids he had known - he had read them stories, and had helped the new kids adapt, and had felt both happy and sad when they got adopted, and he inevitably wasn't.

And then… Then he started stealing, and it all went downhill from there.

"I would have loved you too," Rapunzel echoes, a bit too intensely. "We would have played together all the time, and- And I would have noticed that you were gone. I would have helped you come down from that tree."

They're still hugging. Still looking at the view, though Eugene is not seeing much of it, too focused on her words. He wants to joke that she couldn't have been more than one year old at the time, that she would have had trouble doing anything, but the deflection doesn't feel right. She's squeezing his hand tight, and he understands what she's trying to say, understands what she's trying to make him see.

"I know," he whispers, because he does. He knows she cares about him. He knows- He knows she wouldn't forget him. As much as he worries, deep down he knows she loves him, because she tells him and shows him in every little moment.

Rapunzel shifts, and they finally meet each other's eyes again.

"Do you know how I found you here?" she asks.

"Uh…" Eugene hesitates, thrown off by the subject change.

To be perfectly honest, he had come here because he was bored out of his mind, since Rapunzel was taken by her princess lessons, and no one really cared where he went as long as he didn't cause trouble. And then, all alone here with the sun shining warmly on his face, and the ledge offering more than enough space to stretch, Eugene had simply… fallen asleep.

Before waking up to Rapunzel curiously peering down at him, which surprised him so much it nearly made him fall off the roof. Thankfully, she had quick reflexes, and caught him, but she had looked spooked and he had wanted to make her feel better, thus the tree story he had been reminded of with this adventure.

"Usually, when my lessons are over, you always manage to find me and let me talk to you about my day, or try to take me on a date even when Cassandra says we can't, or… Well," Rapunzel chuckles softly, "what I mean is that you're always there. And today… Today you weren't."

"Oh," he breathes out.

"Cass said there was no reason to worry, and I knew she was right, but- but what if, you know? What if you were in trouble, or what if you had gotten hurt somewhere and couldn't come, or- or… I was worried," she sighs, looking down.

Gently, he put his hand on her chin, and made her raise her head again. The thing is, he does know what she was talking about. That worry gnawing at his insides every time he can't find her, and doesn't know where she is, he understands that all too well.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she immediately corrects. "I simply… I notice your absence. Always, all the time, I notice when you are there or not, and I care about that. If… If you ever were in trouble, if you ever disappeared, I would find you, I promise."

When he sees the honesty in her eyes, Eugene thinks back to that little kid crying all alone on the branch of a too big tree. He thinks about him, growing up, meeting people he loved, finding a best friend in Lance, and yet continuing to ruin all of that little by little, because he was so sure the only way to carve his place in this world was by doing it alone.

He had been an idiot, he knows.

"I know you would, Sunshine," Eugene says. "I would too." Because now that they have each other, he knows that, no matter what, they will never let the other feel lonely ever again.

[snarkwrites]

ssw | embry call; you don’t have to be gentle. | mature.

NOTES:

So... This is the final part to the little mini story with Embry and Merisa... For now. Mayhaps I’ll revisit them from time to time, who knows. If you’re still with me after that downer of a cliffhanger ending yesterday, I’m happy -surprised, but oh so happy, and I truly hope you enjoy this because I enjoyed writing this.

I had to fight myself tooth and nail NOT to turn this into an alpha/omega + imprinting thing, btw. But I managed not to.

PROMPTS:

Prompts used for these six sexy words one shots are either taken from [here] or [here] at my choosing. I don’t take requests for characters / prompts for these but... If you just want to send me requests, I do take headcanon requests, fluff and filth alphabet letters. [ request rules / fandoms here ] 

The prompts I used here are as follows: Claim me. Mark me. Own me + You don’t have to be gentle. 

FANDOM/CHARACTER:

Twilight, Embry Call x Imprint!OFC, Merisa.

OTHER PARTS:

For those of you who want to see them... This whole series kinda turned into my own self indulgent thing, tbh? Anyway:

[ he looks down. she looks up. ] | [ let me take care of you ] | [ everything about her turns me on ] | [ when he says your name ] | [ when whispered words leave you breathless ] 

WARNINGS:

{NSFW CONTENT. NO MINORS.} consensual but unprotected sex between two adults, oral sex - male giving, biting / marking, body fluids & that’s pretty much it.

Minors, this was not written for you. You shouldn’t be reading it. If you are and you stumble upon something upsetting or that you can’t handle after being clearly warned here... That’s on you, lovelies. Not me. Nobody made you keep reading.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee​ is the only person on my Twilight tag list. If you’d like to be added to it, ( I’m gonna be writing more for them most likely, I’ve been feeling it lately, idk mannn..) please let me know or add yourself to the doc linked below. If you’re not on my taglists, you won’t be tagged, fyi.

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | feel free to send me stuff | sfw masterlist | nsfw masterlist no minors. | taglist doc ]

I haven’t seen Embry in a little over two weeks, since the night of the carnival. I still can’t get my head around what he showed me and what I now know but I do know one thing… Not seeing him has been really, really hard for me.

I’d almost given up on it, if I’m being totally honest. I had to fight the urge to go to him almost daily. I kept telling myself if he wanted to see me, he’d come to me. That I’d probably messed everything up with my reaction.

If I hadn’t before that, going overboard with the flirting.

My grandmother’s voice cut through my thoughts and I looked up from the television set. Pausing the episode of General Hospital I had recorded to see what she wanted or needed. Managing my best smile even though lately, that’s the last thing I’ve felt like doing lately.

“Don’t you get tired of laying around here, moping?” she asked as she stepped into the room. Shaking her head as she grabbed the remote and used it to turn off the little television. “Get out there. Go do something. I don’t care what it is, mermaid.”

I pouted at her, letting my mouth drop open as I pretended to be shocked and hurt by her suggestion. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t love me anymore?”

“You know that’s not true. That’s not what I said at all.” my grandmother sat down. I gave a soft laugh and spoke up. “I know, I was kidding. I just… I haven’t been in the mood lately.” I shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

“If you’re moping over that bum in Seattle, mermaid, he’s not worth a second more of your time and energy.”

“Oh. Trust me, I know. This has nothing to do with that. I’m just kind of… Resting.” my original thought pattern was maybe if I offered up the few injuries and aches I had left up for an excuse, she wouldn’t push for anything more than that.

Because it’s been a little over two weeks and I still can’t fully process what happened that night. Or how badly my lack of an actual reaction and how easily I gave in and let him bring me home might have made a mess of everything. I didn’t even try to push him into talking about everything. Explaining what it all meant. 

I didn’t know how I’d even begin to explain anything to my grandmother without sounding like I was losing my goddamn mind if I’m being perfectly honest.

“In order to rest, one needs to actually do something first. What’s really going on, hm?” my grandmother wouldn’t be my grandmother if she didn’t push on regardless. I sighed and shrugged. “ I’m just dealing with everything that happened.”

“Mhm?” she was trying to get me to keep talking but I went quiet. Sighing. Telling her it was stupid and most likely, I was just fully comprehending my mother’s death. Which wasn’t a lie. My memory was almost fully back now. I could remember everything. Including the fact that the years leading up to her death, she and I had a very strained relationship… Because like my grandmother and I tried to do so many times with her over the years whenever she’d get all wrapped up in the actual worst kind of man or circumstance, she was trying to steer me away from Greg and rather than listen to her, knowing she had more experience in life than I did, I chose to isolate myself. I chose to tell her time and again that I was an adult and that Greg wasn’t all the men she’d gotten entangled with during my childhood. So the last few months I could’ve been mending fences and reconnecting with her were spent in tension filled occasional check in texts or calls instead. 

Like mother, like daughter. That thought came bitterly and it hurt like hell to acknowledge. Because my mom went to her grave with the relationship between her and my grandmother totally unresolved. Because like she attempted with me about Greg, my grandmother tried and tried again with my mother and her choices. Only interfering one time. And that one time was because it was a question of my safety. And this cost my grandmother a relationship with my mother because nothing was the same after that summer.

I explained all of this to my grandmother and as I finished, she hugged me and sighed. “You can’t hold this in for the rest of your life, mermaid. But I know that is only a large part of whatever has you so down… and given that I haven’t seen a certain mechanic around at all in nearly three weeks, I’m going to assume that things didn’t go well on your date?”

“Oh, they went… Right up to the point where I proceeded to get impatient, want what I want and push the line…” - a half truth was better than nothing.. Because if I hadn’t laid it all on the line, he wouldn’t have felt so bad about keeping what he had to keep from me.

,, stop doing that. You can’t be blamed for everything. You were shocked. You’re still trying to figure out how to react to what you know… But if you wait too long..” the thought came and like usual, I tried to shove it down again.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I went overboard. I told him how I felt. I poured it on entirely too thick and I probably scared him off.” - taking the blame was infinitely easier than explaining the full truth to my grandmother. How did I even begin to tell her what I knew? And on top of that, the fact remained that I wasn’t supposed to tell. And if you’re not his imprint, you’re not even meant to know to begin with.” that thought surfaced.

And it hit me. When he showed me the wolf side that night, he’d been telling me so much more than that.

And my reaction?

While a natural one, probably wasn’t the best one to go with. I should’ve at least made him fucking talk to me. Explain everything. I should’ve pushed for him to tell me everything instead of agreeing to come home that night.

“Fuck.” I buried my face in my hands.

Why couldn’t I have realized that tidbit say, almost three weeks ago? Before it was probably too late to try and fix everything?

“Language, mermaid.”

“Oh, trust me, grandma. This is definitely a situation worth the F bomb.” I muttered, shaking my head as I laughed at my own stupidity.

“Maybe it can be fixed?”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“You say you’ve realized how short life is thanks to your mother dying and nearly losing your own. All I’m hearing is that you haven’t learned anything, mermaid. How will you know if you don’t try?”

I took a deep breath. Mulling over what she said because honestly, she wasn’t wrong…

And then, before I could stop myself, I was standing. Bolting down the hall and into my old bedroom. The first thing I did was take an actual shower. Then I threw on that sundress. And before I could change my mind or talk myself out of it, I bolted out the door, right past where my grandmother sat, watching her soaps. She called out after me, “I won’t wait up, mermaid.”

I didn’t stop running until I stood on his front porch. Banging on the door.

“Open the door you stubborn ass man. Open the door and listen to me.”

Not a sound.

Not even a hint that he might be home.

I sighed and stared at the door for a few seconds.

Sitting down on the wooden bench to the left of it. Laughing at myself because naturally, I’d finally stop dragging my feet and do something to fix this if I could and he wouldn’t be home.

“I am such a fucking idiot, I swear to God.” I sighed, resting my head on the top of my knees.

I sat like that for a few minutes. Then I heard a motorcycle approaching in the distance. And the fight or flight kicked in all over again. But I fought back against it. Rooted to where I sat.

Determined.

Watching his motorcycle get closer to his house. My heart about to beat right out of my chest. But underneath the excitement.. Calm. Like I was doing the right thing, even if it did turn out to be too late.

The motorcycle came to a stop in his driveway. He hadn’t noticed me yet. I knew the second he did because his entire body tensed. His eyes darted around in every direction before finally settling on me. Intent. A little stunned, from what I could tell.

“So..” I called out, going quiet shortly after because I just didn’t know what to say. I had no idea where to even start.

“What are you doing here?” Embry asked the question quietly. Not in an angry or annoyed way, but more or less in a tone of defeat. Like he’d given up on me coming around ever again. “You saw what I am…” he went quiet. Up the stairs in the blink of an eye.

Towering over me. Keeping his distance but I could tell he wanted to be closer. I knew I wanted him closer. Every part of me was literally crying out for it. I needed him.

Wolf form and all, Embry Call is the man I love.

“And I don’t care, actually.” I admitted after a long and heavy pause. “I mean, I care.. But the fact that you happen to transform under the light of the moon doesn’t bother me. It’s.. Gonna take some getting used to.”

He blinked in shock as he processed what I’d just said. As soon as it sank in, he stepped closer. Filling the space between us. His hips pinning my lower body between his body and the wall my back was pressed firmly against. He raised a hand, resting it palm down against the wall as he stared down at me. Quiet. 

“I know it’s probably too late and I should’ve.. I don’t know, I should’ve done literally anything but what I did the night you showed me the wolf but.. I’m losing my goddamn mind, okay? I.. I can’t think about anything else. I was really in love with you, okay? And I still am. And damn it, when you absolutely shut down and refused to let me…” my words were cut off by a thick digit pressing against my lips to silence me.

He swallowed hard, his eyes leaving mine and settling on my lips. “Wait.. you love me..” he muttered in a daze. Bringing his eyes back up to settle on mine. His body molding completely against mine as he leaned in closer. 

“What part of that did you miss? Because I’ll happily say it. Over and over. Until it gets through your stubborn rock skull. This whole you turning into a wolf thing is.. Look. It’s a lot, okay? But it’s not too much. Not when I need you and I love you... I know what I want. And I’m not leaving until we’ve at least talked.”

“What do you want, huh?” Embry asked. Staring down at me expectantly. Waiting on an answer.

“You. I want you. Wolf and all.” I answered quietly, my gaze dropping. Settling on worn floorboards beneath my dirty and bare feet. Embry followed my gaze down and snickered quietly to himself.

“Woman, where the fuck are your shoes?” he glanced up at me, shaking his head. Grumbling about the fact that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. And I knew him well enough to know that this was Embry, stalling. Because he didn’t know what to say or do.

“Look. I came down here on a mission. I didn’t have time to stop and grab shoes, damn it.”

“Baby, why..” Embry chuckled, the beginnings of a grin forming on his face as he guided my face up so that I had no choice but to look at him. “ I know you came down here on a mission but seriously? There’s broken glass in the road.”

“I’m pretty tough. I mean.. I did live through a pretty wicked car accident.” I bit my lip, staring up at his mouth helplessly. Swallowing hard and getting wet when one glance into his eyes clearly revealed that yes, he’d caught me doing so.

“Yeah, don’t remind me about that, okay? I don’t even wanna..think about that night again.” he went quiet. Ghosting his free hand up and down my side before letting it rest against my hip. Using his grip to pull me against him. I melted into him with zero thought or hesitation. And then, I happened to put my full weight down on my left foot and promptly swear to myself quietly. “Son of a bitch. Ouch.” I raised my foot and the light glistened off of a practically microscopic shard of glass lodged in the skin.

Wordlessly, Embry scooped me up. Carrying me into his house. Sitting me down on his sofa. My eyes darted around the place, smiling softly to myself at all the pictures and the way it felt almost equally as cozy and like home as my grandmother’s little house did.

And before I could stop myself, I was imagining a future with him. Something I hadn’t dared ever do before. Something that suddenly occurred to me, I wanted.

Embry walked back into the living room with peroxide, a wash rag and tweezers and I pouted, shaking my head. “This can wait.” I protested. Tried to pull my foot away, but Embry got a firm grip on it, resting it between his thighs. Holding it still as he looked down at it, inspecting it closely until he found the tiny glass shard. 

“Okay, look at me.” Embry guided my gaze up to meet his. Then he looked down. “Don’t stop looking at me, okay? And do not move your foot. Stop moving, Merisa or I’m never gonna get this out, baby.” Embry muttered in an even and firm tone. Stopping to look up at me with one of the most commanding looks I’d ever seen him give.

“It’s..” I hissed as the tweezers scraped over my skin, grimacing. Gritting my teeth because apparently, it was dug in there deep. “It’s fine. It can totally wait, c’mon.”

The way he’s called me baby twice now.

I don’t dare get my hopes up, do I?

The splinter of glass came free and I unclenched myself. It hadn’t hurt that bad at all.

“Was that so bad?” he asked. Staring at me.

I shook my head.

My eyes were lost in his all over again. And the tension was back. Heavy. Filled with things we needed to say.

“Embry.” I muttered after a long and heavy silence. Embry looked up at me, biting his lip. “Yeah?”

“When I told you that I’m yours and all you have to do is try, I meant that, okay? I don’t say things I don’t mean. And all of this.. I mean… Forget it. According to the legends, if you imprint, it won’t matter anyway…” I trailed off because I realized that I’d come all the way down here on a barely thought out whim. In the hope that maybe he’d been trying to tell me so much more than simply the fact that he turned into a wolf at will.

My anxiety was starting to kick in now and I had no idea what to do or say. I didn’t even begin to know where to start. There was so much I wanted to say. So much I needed to get out.

“It will if I imprinted on you.” Embry muttered after a few seconds. Staring down at my foot in his lap intently. Taking a few long and shaky breaths. Waiting.

Now it was my turn to be shocked.

Because that’s what I’d been hoping he was trying to tell me when I bolted all the way down here in a rush earlier. But I’d braced myself to hear everything but that.

“Wait..” I trailed off. My mouth opened and closed as I raised a hand, tousling my hair and pushing it out of my eyes.

,, You were right. He told you what he was that night. He showed you because you were his imprint.” my brain was practically taunting me.

“You sound like that’s a bad thing.” I was confused.

“It’s not. I just… I never thought it would happen. Kind of convinced myself that I’d rather know I love the person I was with without that side of me coming into play…” Embry trailed off.

“Oh.” I started to stand. Thinking that he meant something entirely different than what he was getting at. I was at the front door when he pressed against me from behind. His hand covered mine. Lowering it down from the doorknob.

“Don’t go. Just.. Let me get this out.” he muttered quietly against the shell of my ear as he turned me around to face him. Putting my back against the front door with a soft smack. 

“I have been driving myself crazy. I’ve been trying to tell myself that it was just the imprint. But it’s not just that. I love you. I need you, okay? I just.. I don’t want you to think that genetics are the only reason I’m with you. I wanted to take time and like.. Prove that.” Embry fidgeted a little, raising a hand to drag it through his hair. Resting that hand against my face. Dragging his thumb over my skin as he softly pressed his forehead against mine.

When his mouth met mine this time it was deep and slow. Clumsy. Needy. His hands were wandering all over me. Finally stopping to rest across my ass. Pulling me up his body. 

“I know it’s not just genetics, okay? I trust you.” I answered as we pulled apart to breathe. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangling up in his hair. Using my grip to pull his mouth back against mine all over again. “I love you too. And I want to see where this goes. We can figure this out as we go. I just.. I know what I want.” I gazed at him as the kiss broke a second time and we pulled apart, panting for our next breaths. Trying to pull ourselves together.

He grinned bright at my words and I smiled too. Snuggling myself against him.

“I do too.” he answered after a second or two of little pecks and soft kisses peppered on my face and Embry touching me anywhere he could get his hands. Stepping over to the sofa and sitting down. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulled me as close as he could get me. Making me barely catch a whimper as I rubbed right against the way his cock strained and pushed at the jeans he was wearing. When I did it a second time on my own free will, Embry groaned. Bucking himself up into me. Fingers digging into my ass. Guiding me over the bulge before either of us really stopped to think it over or calm ourselves down.

And honestly, I didn’t want to.

Every single time I rubbed against him, I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. Whimpering and whining. Begging. I wound up pressed against the sofa, Embry’s body settling between my legs to keep them spread. He gave a quiet growl as he stared down at me and settled in, pressing into me completely. Pinning me beneath him. But barely pressing his full weight into me, almost as if he thought he’d break me or I was made of glass. 

“ You don’t have to be gentle.” I muttered as my lips danced over his neck, leaving little marks behind. He sucked in a sharp breath, gazing at me as if wanting to be absolutely sure I was okay. That I wanted to go farther.

As if I intended to stop him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” Embry muttered, his words coming out in labored pants. 

“You won’t.” I mumbled, letting out a gasp as rough,warm hands slipped up the bottom of my little yellow dress. His palm settling against my aching wet sex. Massaging me through soaked panties. My fingers dug into the couch and his shoulder as I rocked myself up into him. 

His mouth crashed against mine hungrily and his hand started to move faster. Pressing against my dripping core. The little friction it gave was just enough to make me want more. Just as I started to rock against his hand a little faster, breath catching in my throat, he started to slow down. “Easy, baby. Not yet.” he coaxed, making me pout up at him. His thumb rolled over the outline of my lips and I closed them around it, sucking. Making him growl out “Fuck.” as he bucked himself right against me. His nose pressed against my neck as he breathed in deep. My fingers dug into the cushion on the sofa just a little more. His hand settled against my cunt again, cupping. Rubbing slow and careful. So slow that the ache settled between my thighs doubled. And the more I tried to rock myself faster against his moving hand, the more he pressed his hips down into mine to attempt to keep me still. When he stopped again just as I started to get just a little closer to orgasm, I whined. Begging.

His mouth buried in mine, swallowing up the sounds. He moved his hand, growling when it came away wet. “You smell so fucking sweet. I wonder...” he mumbled lazily against my lips as the kiss came to a gradual stop, “If you taste as sweet.” gazing down at me with a hungry look in lust shot dark brown eyes as he licked his lips. I could feel my cheeks heating up. My thighs were so slick they slipped off one another if they brushed together. Embry worked my dress up over my hips. Pulling me up to finish pulling it off. Leaving me in only the pair of red panties I was wearing. He pulled away to stare. A hungry look in his eyes as they moved over my body.

 My fingers curled in the hem of a thin gray tank top he was wearing and I started to work it up, letting it hit the floor of the living room once I’d pulled it over his head. He slipped off the couch, standing in front of me. His hand lowered to the waistband of his jeans after he’d kicked off heavy soled boots, letting them settle on wooden floors with a soft thump. He unfastened and unzipped his jeans, letting them hit the floor around his ankles at which point he kicked them free. 

My eyes widened as I could see the size of the bulge strained against a pair of dark gray boxer briefs. ,, is he even going to fit?” the thought came, accompanied by a fresh rush of slick as it coated my panties and slicked up the insides of my thighs even more. He was lowering himself back down again, hovering over me. His forehead resting against mine as he muttered quietly, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“Baby..” I started to argue that I knew he wouldn’t, but he shook his head and repeated himself firmly. I nodded, agreeing to let him know. He settled himself on top of me gingerly, again being too careful. Not wanting to press into me too much. But I wanted friction. I wanted to feel his body engulfing mine. Hard muscles against my soft skin. I grabbed a hold of his hips, pulling him down on top of me even more. He rutted himself against me with a low hungry growl that hung in the air between us, only drowned out by the sounds of his mouth as it worked over my body. Starting at my throat. Working down. His hands roamed up my sides, pushing my breasts together and his mouth latched on. Licking,kissing and sucking. Making me whimper his name and rock myself up into him, the ache building. Throbbing. 

By the time his mouth was down to my navel, he was reaching between us, the silent rip of fabric as my favorite red panties came away, tossed to the floor of his living room; torn. I raised my hand, tugging impatiently at the waistband of his boxers and rather than deny me, he obliged, raising to his knees. Slipping off the couch to let his boxers settle on the floor. His cock sprang free, standing at attention. I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on his thick,veiny member, a quiet gasp filling the air. 

He positioned himself over me again. Gingerly. Desperate to feel skin against skin completely, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down on top of my completely. A moan escaped my throat as soon as I felt his cock teasing at my dripping entrance. His hands were all over me, ghosting my sides. Finally settling on my hips. Rocking me over his thick,veiny length as he stared down at me, dazed.

Leaning in to whisper against the shell of my ear, “Love the way your body fits against mine, baby.” as I nodded, let my lips brush the side of his neck, latching onto skin as I tried to leave a mark, “Me too.” I muttered, gazing up at him with a soft smile. Rough hands caressed my cheek, skimming down the side of my body and Embry’s mouth danced down my neck. Teeth scraping against soft skin before locking around it. Tugging until I felt a mark forming. I moaned out, rocking myself up into him. One of my hands drifting up to tangle in his hair and tug at it, trying to pull his mouth against mine one more time, despite knowing one kiss is obviously not ever going to be enough when it comes to him.

He started to let his mouth roam over my bare body, sending goosebumps raising all over me as I felt his warm,wet tongue drag slowly over my skin. Trailing a lazy circle around my navel as he moved himself down my body. Settling between my legs, putting a leg over each shoulder as he met my gaze again. Licking his lips hungrily. Bucking against the couch in anticipation and practically growling when he glanced down and saw my thighs glistening with slick. His tongue rolled up my inner thigh, sloppy. Warm and wet and determined to lick me clean. My hand tangled in the hair on top of his head and my other hand gripped the couch as the warmth of his breath tickled bare skin. His nose bumped against my pelvic mound and I bit my lip, my back arching as his tongue circled my clit, working the throbbing bundle of nerves. The way he had my legs over his shoulder angled my hips. When his tongue buried deep in my pussy, I moaned out. Begging for more.

“Baby, ah, oh fuck.. Oh. Mmm. Right there.” I moaned out, gripping his hair and the couch tighter. Digging my heels into his back, making him bury his tongue inside my dripping sex deeper. “That feels so good, fuck.” I moaned out, rocking my hips up for him.

“Good girl. Move your hips. Fuck. You’re dripping.” Embry growled, leaving a more harsh bite against the inside of my thigh, right next to my crotch. A bite so deep I could feel the stinging bruise even after he’d backed away, glancing up at me tenderly just to make sure I was okay only to find me moaning, my head falling back as I licked my lips.

My stomach coiled and my body tensed as I started to race right into an orgasm that I knew would leave me shaking. Embry started to slow down and my eyes popped open, locking on him and the way he was positioned between my thighs below. Pouting. Begging him not to slow down. Begging him to let me let go. He rose up a little, making his way back up my body after lowering my legs. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Grabbing hold of my jaw as his mouth crashed against mine and he rocked himself against me, letting his cock drag right between my throbbing folds every single time he moved.

I gripped his jaw, making him lock eyes with me. His pupils were shot and the lust filled look in his eyes when they met mine had me whimpering his name. “C’mon… Please?” I begged breathlessly, another well timed rock against me with his cock grazing between my folds and the tip sinking in drew a breathy moan out of me that shattered the silence of the room. “Embry, please. Now.”

“Now, huh?” Embry responded in a husky whisper, his lips latching onto my neck. Sucking another mark into my skin. “Don’t let me hurt you. Because I know I’m going to get carried away, baby, I.. you just  feel so damn good.” Embry gasped out as he started to bury himself inside me deep. Going still once I was impaled on his thick,veiny member. Pressing little soft kisses against my warm skin as he let me adjust to the way he stretched and overfilled me. After a few seconds, the feeling of being stretched almost too much subsided and I started to slowly rock my hips into him. Whimpering and moaning as he started to drive into me slow and deep. Nearly pulling out completely with each thrust just to bury himself deep inside all over again. When my stomach coiled all over again, I rocked my hips faster. Trying to chase the orgasm he’d been denying me. Embry’s hands gripped my hips, slowing them almost to a grinding halt and I whimpered, begging.

“Not yet, baby.” he muttered. Raising to his knees. Bringing my legs up to my chest. Both hands on my hips as he pumped me up and down on his cock until I was moaning his name over and over, clinging to him when he came to a complete stop. Frustrated as hell because I’d been so close and Embry stopped again. A tear of frustration trickled down my cheek and Embry caught it with his finger. Licking his lips as he muttered quietly, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you, okay? Let go for me. C’mon, baby..” he started to pump himself in and out harder, faster.. The smack of skin against skin shattering the quiet. “C’mon. Let go, baby.” as he pushed me back against the couch, pinning me all over again. His hips smacking against mine erratically, the sound echoing off the walls. “That’s it.” he growled as I clenched around him, dangerously close to my orgasm shattering through, “Fuck. you’re so tight. Wet...Fuck, baby.” 

My orgasm ripped through me, leaving me a dripping,whimpering mess, clinging to him. Trying to catch my breath. My hips meeting his as best as I could as I let him fuck me through the high of it. My nails caught in his skin and raked down his back, pulling a moan out of him as he buried his mouth against mine, muttering quietly, “You feel so so good. So good, baby. Don’t..” he groaned as his thrusts became sloppier. Slower in a desperate attempt to keep himself from getting off, “Ah, oh god. Mmm.” his hands gripped my hips tight, slamming me up and down on his cock as he bottomed out, striking against my throbbing,sensitive spot, pulling a loud whimper out of me in the process. “Baby.” he panted, locking eyes with me, “I’m so close. So close, fuck.”

“Don’t stop. Embry, please.” my back arched as his thrusts got even sloppier. Faster. So hard they were almost bruising each time his hips slammed against mine mid-thrust. “You sure?” he muttered against the shell of my ear, glancing down at me.

“Embry, fuck. Ah, fuck. Baby, don’t stop. Feels so good baby. Mmm, yeah.” I moaned out, my back arching away from the bed, my chest dragging over his as I clung to him. Trying to rock my hips urgently to keep him moving. Blinded by lust. My nails digging into his shoulder and dragging down his back lightly. Pulling a growl out of him that was swallowed by the hungry crash of our mouths against each others as his hips sputtered and I felt his cock throbbing. Emptying. Filling me full. 

After it was over, he planted soft kisses all over my face and neck and I pulled him down on top of me. He flipped us so that he was the one laying below, his arms locking around my body to hold me in place on top of him as I crashed my mouth against his all over again.

His eyes settled on the bites and nips he left behind and he grimaced, gingerly dragging his finger over the deepest one on the side of my neck. “I told you not to let me hurt you.”

“If it hurt, Embry, I would’ve told you. I’m not made of glass, baby.”

He eyed me, almost as if he were afraid I was just saying it. I gave a soft giggle and after wiggling around a little to get comfortable, I rubbed my nose against his, making him laugh. Stare up at me in awe only to burst into laughter when I settled on the couch next to him, purring in content, “I am.. Definitely going to get used to this. Mhm, yes I am.” through a sleepy yawn.

“Me too, babe.” Embry pulled me closer, letting my head rest against his chest. An arm wrapped around me tight after pressing his lips against my forehead...

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I wouldn't mind that post on VNs!

So I was gonna write three different lists, but then after writing the first part I realized this is very long and takes a while to write and nobody cares anyway so I’ll just post my recommended list only. Well, I mean, you asked, but I doubt you wanted all this lol. Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this stuff, though. Hope you enjoy my ramblings!

An explanation for what this list is: Sometimes I know a game isn't perfect in many aspects but I still had a genuinely good time playing it, hence why I'm recommending it. Also I should mention that I could talk for hours about some of these games so if anyone’s curious about more of my thoughts, let me know.

Alright, now that that's out of the way ...

How to Take Off Your Mask / How to Fool a Liar King / How to Sing to Open Your Heart (f/m): This is a trilogy of smaller, single-RO games where you can take one of two routes depending on how you act, and they’re all interconnected where you get to meet and interact with the previous games’ characters in the sequel games. I went into this expecting very little but what I got blew me away with how funny, charming and cute the games were. They don’t take themselves too seriously, at one point an angsty male character monologues deeply about some shit, and another one just slides into frame and starts mocking him. It was so fucking funny, holy shit. Also, a central theme is literally racism against catgirls? Which is monumentally stupid, and probably the games’ main flaw, especially in the final game where it pairs up a catgirl with a catgirl racist, but that one still ends with a literal bisexual queen literally making a man her malewife because she fell in love with his cooking, so like ... It speaks for itself. My favorite game of the three is the second one, where you get to play a punchy fake catgirl and romance a pink-haired prince. And honestly, all the female protags in these games are lovely and a breath of fresh air, and the male characters are fun and not abusive assholes either. There’s full Japanese voice acting, and two out of three female protags are literal catgirls who pepper in “nya” and “mya” into their dialogue, and it’s just treated as a quirk of their catgirl race. I AM NOT KIDDING. Yet somehow it never comes off as cringe, because it doesn’t take it self too seriously. These games are just cozy. That’s the only way I can describe them. Cozy and hilarious. Play them yesterday. Dream Daddy (m/m): Man tumblr did this game dirty. This is just a cute, wholesome daddy dating simulator with gorgeous art. Coming out on Top (m/m): So you know Dream Daddy? What if it was EXTREMELY, MAJORLY NSFW? Though I realize how bad the comparison really is, the only thing these games have in common is that they’re gay dating sims and don’t have an anime art style and oh, yeah, they’re both really well-written. Or at least, extremely funny. COOT (heh) is DDADDS’ horny older cousin, and I first encountered the game on a lesbian letsplayer’s YouTube channel. Yes I watched a lesbian play a gay porn game and it was GOOD. I was there for the cringe and fun and got surprised by how genuinely funny and sometimes actually touching the game was. I can’t give it my universal endorsement because it’s not a game for everyone, as I said, it’s extremely NSFW and the menu theme literally includes the singers screaming “SEX SEX” at the top of their lungs. There’s more to this game than the porn, but there’s just so much porn. It can be censored in the settings but it’s unavoidable. However, I still think it’s worth a look just because of how funny it is and how charming the characters are. If you don’t want to play it yourself, at least watch Anima’s playthrough of it. It hasn’t aged super well in some spots but I still go back to it every now and then. Akash: Path of the Five (f/m): This game markets itself as a more “professionally produced” western dating sim, and that’s accurate in some superficial aspects. The game is pretty poorly written, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and has really good English voice acting by actual professional voice actors. The premise is quite self-indulgent, but I genuinely respect that about it. You play as the only female elemental in a village with only men, and all five of your classmates want a piece of you. It’s clear the writers have put some thought into the lore and worldbuilding of this world, but barely any of it comes through in the actual writing and plot, which is basically just a vehicle for you to get together with your boy of choice. The ROs aren’t very well-developed either, and the plot is the same in every route with only minor variations depending on which guy you pick, up to the point where the protag has the same voice lines in some parts regardless of which guy she’s talking about. It also has one extra half-route that’s so bad and pointless I genuinely wonder why they wasted resources on making it instead of spending a bit more on the writing/adding some variations to the main plot. So why am I recommending this game? Well, it’s pretty, and it sounds nice. This game is a himbo, gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did. Get it when it’s on sale, I think if I hadn’t gotten it at half-price I would’ve felt a bit more cranky about it. Also Rocco is bae. Mystic Destinies: Serendipity of Aeons (f/m): Yes that’s the full title, no I don’t know what it means either. You may have noticed how most of the games so far I’ve enjoyed because they don’t take themselves too seriously? Well, this one does. It takes itself SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY. Like, way too seriously. It’s a little embarrassing at points because baby, you’re an urban fantasy dating sim. Calm down. But the game has gorgeous art and 3 out of 5 routes are very good. The last route, the one with your teacher, is both the most problematic yet somehow the one that breaks down the very concept of a dating sim within its own narrative (yes, this shit gets fucking META) and it got so wild at the end that 1) I still listen to the soundtrack for that route and 2) I still remember it to this day despite finishing it ages ago. My favorite route is Shou, he’s a sweetheart, but the mindfuck route is so buckwild that I think the game is worth playing just for that. There’s also a route that’s like a neo-noir mystery? I Do Not Know. This game is many, many things and it does them so sincerely and tries so hard, you can’t help but respect it. It doesn’t always stick the landing but man, just let this thing take your hand and wax poetic at you for a bit. Also get this one at a sale because it’s very expensive to get the full version. I got it for 9 bucks on itch.io and I felt that was a fair enough price, I’d say I wouldn’t have minded paying more for it because there’s a lot of content to enjoy and/or be baffled by. Arcade Spirits: This one’s a bit more weird from what I recall, and I honestly couldn’t tell you much about it, but I remember having a very good time with it and recommending it to a friend when she was going through some tough times and she said it made her feel better. I remember it making me feel better, as well. This is a VN about an arcade and the ROs are wonderfully diverse, with very real human conflicts that get explored in each of their routes. It can get quite existential and heavy at times, but in the end it’s a kindhearted game that I think everyone can enjoy. The main character was also, how you say, mood. It’s a game about getting possessed by a video game and then learning self-love. Ebon Light (f/m): This one’s free/name your own price on itch.io so go play it. It’s a weird plot where you play as a girl who ate an elven relic? And then the elves kidnap you because you’re the relic now. All the ROs are extremely pasty (like, literally white, as in literally the color white) dark-haired elves, except for one, who’s an extremely pasty blond elf, so ... diversity? I honestly don’t know what this game is aside from unique. I used to be a bit put off by the art style but now I think it contributes to the general atmosphere. It’s a weird game that technically doesn’t do anything groundbreaking but still left an impression of “huh. weird” in my mind and I think more people should play it. The ROs are all pretty generic dating sim archetypes but done well, with bonus points to Duliae who’s just a massive creep and I love him, and also Vadeyn who’s the only bitch in this house I respect. The worldbuilding is honestly a bit buckwild and I can’t give enough credit for how unique the elves’ culture is in this game. Definitely give it a go. Hakuoki: Kyoto Winds / Hakuoki: Edo Blossoms (f/m): These two are newer releases of an older Japanese visual novel. I wouldn’t call it a dating sim, it’s ... it’s more of a super depressing historical fantasy epic with some minor romance aspects awkwardly wedged in. It’s seriously some of the heaviest and most grimdark shit I’ve ever played in a VN/otome. I don’t understand why it’s a dating sim, it doesn’t read like one, it’s just historical fantasy based on real world events with characters based on real people, and they kill and they die and they grieve and they suffer. The games are literally about the downfall of the Shinsengumi, there’s no way of avoiding everything going to shit and you get to watch and be in the middle of it all as they struggle to stay alive and relevant in a world that doesn’t need them anymore. And there’s the protag in the middle of it all, being useless and submissive and bland just the way the usual otome protag is. I don’t think these games are necessarily fun, and the romance is certainly a lot more downplayed and deeply problematic just based on the age differences alone with some of the men, but the sheer amount of horror and sadness in these games make them stand out above its peers. It’s like watching a war movie. Since most of the characters are based on real people, they feel like real people instead of the usual otome archetypes, and they are so, SO flawed, it’s interesting to just watch them deal with the shit the world throws at them. It’s an Experience, and if you’re up for it, I think it’s worth the time. Cinderella Phenomenon (f/m): This game is free on Steam so go get it. You play as a really, genuinely shitty princess who gets cursed to be poor and forgotten and she has to help one of the ROs break his fairy tale curse so that she can learn about being a good person herself and return to her normal life. This game doesn’t look like much, but it has a genuinely well-written main character who’s actually at the center of each of the stories and in the overarching plot instead of just being around to make eyes at the real protagonists, aka the love interests. Aside from the main character, my favorite part of this game’s writing is how each route slowly but very smoothly expands upon the overarching intrigue. If you play them in a certain order, you get more and more info revealed to you that you didn’t see in other routes, gaps are filled in as you find out more about what actually happened and why, but every route also stands on its own as a full experience and none is more canon than the rest. There’s also some really heavy emotional parental abuse explored, which I found quite potent at times. The romances themselves were alright, I think Karma and Waltz were my faves.

[callonpeevesie]

Things that bother me about Percabeth

Warning: this is going to be long and I'm not even sure if this will make sense. Also don't read this if you aren't open to criticizms of Percabeth.

Percabeth is a good ship, or at least has potential as one, but it has many legit flaws (this and this go into the flaws. By the way, go check out @takaraphoenix's Riordan crit) and I have some personal grievances. I'll write this out to understand my stance better because I need to get this off my chest.

I believe most people wouldn't agree with me on all this, but this post is entirely self-indulgent and I'm doing this for catharsis, so don't come at me. This isn't an objective analysis, just me trying to clear my thoughts. But feel free to share your opinions if you want.

Evolution in PJO

This is a pretty general point. I love the evolution of their dynamic in pjo. Their bickering, them opening up to each other and becoming so important to each other, the slow and steady buildup, it's great. Heck, I love slow burn. They have some good moments in pjo: Annabeth opening up to Percy on the zoo express, the scene with the sirens, Percy doing everything he did to save Annabeth in ttc, their conversation after Annabeth took the knife for Percy in tlo. (The underwater kiss is not one of my favourite moments, I'll come to that later.)

The romantic evolution, though, I'm not sure. I enjoyed it in ttc, there were small subtle hints like Aphrodite's scarf, or Aphrodite looking like Annabeth to Percy. But it became kind of tiring in botl onwards. Annabeth was extremely possessive and awful to Rachel. And in tlo things became a bit over-the-top.

I think Rick tried to establish them as the Most Important Person to each other. I don't like that. This is more apparent in HoO. I'll come to hoo later, but there is one instance of this in tlo: Percy seeing Annabeth in the Styx. Like one of the posts I've linked above says, it's shippy nonsense. It comes from the idea that one's romantic partner must be the most important. It doesn't make sense. I think Percy should have seen his mother in the Styx. It would make sense for Sally to be Percy's anchor, considering how much she means to him.

In short, their enemies-to-friends evolution was great, their friends-to-lovers evolution started out fine but became too much for me, and their friends-to-Most-Important-Person-to-each-other evolution was unnecessary and forced.

Luke

Luke and Annabeth's romantic subplot didn't need to exist. This isn't exactly Percabeth, but I'll say it here anyway. First of all, there's a seven year age gap, so Luke returning Annabeth's feelings is creepy. And it seems pretty unnecessary to me. It's also a bit of a mess. In tlt Annabeth blushes when Luke is around, and Luke says 'She's like my little sister.' In tlo Luke asks Annabeth if she loved him, and she says 'You were like a brother to me.' This part feels like Rick trying to add last-moment tension to Percabeth by making Luke a potential 'rival' to Percy. In the Staff of Hermes Percy says Annabeth had a crush on Luke, and as she got older, Luke had a crush on her too. Just ... Why?

They and Thalia were each other's first friends. Annabeth looked up to Luke and Luke was fond of Annabeth. That is enough reason for Annabeth to be hurt and for Luke to care about Annabeth. That is enough to set up their post-betrayal dynamic. The romance thing was completely unnecessary.

Rachel

I absolutely hate the way Annabeth treated Rachel. If there is one thing I despise about romantic subplots, it's justifying bitchiness with romantic jealousy. I guess it's okay to feel a little jealous or even possessive, and I can kind of see where Annabeth was coming from, but treating someone like shit because of that, especially in the middle of dangerous quests, is not okay. It's petty and immature. (It could be argued that Annabeth was mad because Rachel got to lead her quest, but let's be honest, she wouldn't have been that mad if it were anyone else. She specifically treated Rachel like that out of jealousy.) It was never called out and Annabeth never seemed to regret it. This bothers me so much. Fanfiction is a good coping mechanism, I suppose, but I'm here to complain about canon, not cope with it.

Speaking of Rachel, Perachel could have been a good ship. A demigod looking for a normal life and a mortal with clear sight. This elaborates on that pretty well. At the end of tlo it really felt like Rick had to get Rachel out of the way to make way for Percabeth.

Annabeth seems to be too demanding

Annabeth's attitude towards Percy bothers me sometimes. She's a good character and has a strong dynamic with Percy, but she's a bit tiring with regards to Percy (in a romantic sense; she's fine as his friend). I mean look at this quote from tlo:

I can't pretend I hadn't thought about Rachel. She was so much easier to be around than ... Well, than some other girls I knew. I didn't have to work hard, or watch what I said, or wrack my brain trying to figure out what she was thinking.

Percy feeling that way about Annabeth - his best friend of four years - just doesn't sit well with me. Percy straight up admits he's more comfortable with Rachel than with Annabeth.

There's more: Annabeth punching Percy when he asked who he should dance with in ttc, the way she treated Rachel, the way she behaved towards Percy regarding Rachel in botl, judo flipping him in moa. It's pretty tiring in general. Now that I think of it, this wasn't a thing before the romance showed up. Their dynamic was better in the earlier books in general.

Also personally I'm not a fan of Annabeth constantly calling Percy Seaweed Brain. This and this nicely sum up how I feel about that. Annabeth making fun of Percy's intelligence even after getting to know him makes no sense, especially as he was insecure about his intelligence. (And yes, I know she thought he was intelligent, as she said in the Demigod Files, but that doesn't cancel out the million times she called him stupid to his face.)

They became too couple coded

I've seen people say that Percabeth is better as friends than as lovers, and honestly I agree, and I've done some thinking to figure out why. I think it's because of the way they were written after they became a couple. They could have been fine as a couple, if they were written differently.

They started out not being able to stand each other, then gradually, they went through a lot together, got to know each other, learned to work together, and became a team. That was a great evolution, like I said before.

And like I also said before, everything I dislike about Percabeth showed up with the romance. Annabeth became catty and possessive. They became a couple. And it was as if the friendship wasn't there anymore, just the romance. They became like a cliche unreasonable girlfriend and clueless boyfriend. This is especially obvious in the beginning of Percy Jackson and the Staff of Hermes. Where's the friendship? Where's the comfortable bantering? Where's the known-each-other-for-years soundness? Hoo Percabeth just doesn't live up to pjo Percabeth at all.

(Also this is a personal bias of mine, but I'm partially romance repulsed. I can't stand cheesy romantic coded stuff. I only like lovers if they're also friends. So I guess I'm kind of pissed about Percabeth becoming so couple coded after becoming a couple.)

Their HoO dynamic

This is a related point. Like I said, hoo Percabeth doesn't live up to pjo Percabeth. All they care about is each other. They literally don't think about anyone else at all. Percy loses his memory and he remembers Annabeth. Why? Does Hera ship Percabeth? If he remembered anyone, it should have been his mom, like in the Styx. The only reason Percy remembered Annabeth, i.e Annabeth was made out to be more important to Percy than everyone else (including Grover and Tyson and Sally 'best person in the world' Jackson) is that she was his romantic partner. Again, it's shippy nonsense.

And there's this reveal that Annabeth had a crush on Percy all along. Are you kidding me? It completely retcons the enemies-to-friends development. Are you telling me that the Percabeth evolution in pjo where they learned not to hate each other was a lie? That Annabeth gradually opening up to Percy and coming to appreciate him was her acting out of a crush? I'm not believing that, no way.

I'm probably not making any sense, but my point is that Percabeth in hoo in cheesy and can't go one day without each other and people love it but I don't. It kind of messes up their previous dynamic, which is a shame because I liked pre-hoo Percabeth.

Rick seems to go overboard sometimes

I'm about to get a little controversial here. Many of the Percabeth posts in those tumblr screenshots going around social media are about the campers shipping Percabeth, or Arachne making Percabeth fanart, things like that. My theory is that part of the reason Percabeth is so popular is that the characters ship it. And Rick kind of goes overboard with that - not just with the in-universe shipping, with the ship itself.

Prime examples of going overboard are Percy seeing Annabeth in the Styx and remembering Annabeth when Hera took his memory, which imply that Annabeth was objectively the Most Important Person to Percy. I've already ranted about these above so moving on to the part about the in-universe shipping. Like I said, I'm not a fan of the underwater kiss. It's because of the situation involved. The campers just won a war and lost their friends and siblings, Clarisse just lost Silena, you'd think they'd have other things to care about than Percy and Annabeth kissing, at least for one day. And why did Arachne make fanart of that? How did she even know? There was also the matter of moving to New Rome - them wanting to move halfway across country to live together, away from New York, doesn't really make sense to me. This post elaborates on that and suggests better alternatives.

Of course, the author has complete control over the narrative, and the author wants you to believe they are making sense. And when the characters believe that too, it becomes harder for readers not to. When all the campers ship Percabeth, it's enough to convince half the readers to ship it too. (And of course, the pjo fandom has an unhealthy thing with canon ships.)

It's pretty much kept up by the fans

While we're at it, let's talk about the out-of-universe shipping. The fandom has always shipped Percabeth, partly just because they are the male lead and female lead of a series. Percabeth was set up to happen, so when Rick introduced Rachel, who actually made Percy feel good about himself and let him be himself around her, and whom Percy was interested in, he had to get her out of the way. I'm not sure I can explain it, but the Percabeth ending in the first series feels very fan service-y to me.

Platonic Percabeth vs romantic Percabeth

I think everything I've said above just explains why Percabeth worked better as friends. The had a great friendship arc and became two friends who know each other inside out, butt heads a lot but love and respect each other deeply. And then when the romance happened, Annabeth began to show these romanticized but actually toxic girlfriend stereotypes - being jealous and possessive, expecting Percy to read her mind and getting pissed when he can't, etc.

The fandom thinks those traits are okay, because they are normalised in society. People think that's how couples should work (it's not). And so the reasons I don't like Percabeth are the same reasons many people do. The date in the beginning of Staff of Hermes makes me cringe, because they were friends first and friends don't work like that. But no doubt there are many people who find it cute because society loves to romanticise the unreasonable girlfriend and clueless boyfriend trope. There are plenty of people who romanticise Annabeth judo flipping Percy or treating Rachel like shit, because things like that are normalised but I personally can't stomach them at all.

Anyway, those toxic traits come with the Percabeth romance as a package deal and there's no getting rid of them. That's why Percy and Annabeth worked better as friends, and why I feel things would be better if they just stayed friends. There was none of that tiring crap pre-romance. I can't stress this enough, I really loved their friendship in tlt or som. But when their dynamic evolved to romance, it messed up their friendship. There was a specific moment in botl when Percabeth began to feel off for me.

'She will calm down,' Chiron promised. 'She's jealous, my boy.'

'That's stupid. She's not... it's not like...'

Chiron chuckled. 'It hardly matters. Annabeth is very territorial about her friends, in case you haven't noticed. ...'

I don't know why this moment specifically, but this kind of marked a change for me. This is where Percabeth became seriously romantic, and I didn't like the related developments. This was the beginning of Annabeth's jealousy.

So what would I prefer?

I'll be honest, I shipped Percabeth for a while, probably because I love some friends-to-lovers. So I was going to make a list of things I'd change about Percabeth. I wanted to make some self-indulgent UAs (universe alterations) to fix the things I don't like. But then I started writing this thing and read up on other posts and stuff and I realised the list of things that bother me is huge and I could never make Percabeth work for me without messing everything up. So I just gave up shipping it entirely.

What I would prefer is an AU where Percabeth stays platonic forever (@elf-loving-dragon has been encouraging that idea as well). They were great as friends and I want that back. It would be so refreshing to have the male lead and female lead not end up together. Annabeth could end up alone, and still get her something permanent with her friends and camp. It would be so beautiful if something completely romance-free was specifically stated as permanent, because friendships in media deserve as much love as romance.

As for Percy, he could end up either alone or with Rachel. I don't ship him with anyone else rn. While I have made it obvious that I like Perachel, I still don't know if I actually ship it, and the idea of Percy ending up alone is not too bad either. (Update: I stan platonic Percabeth and qpp Perachel now.)

I promise I'm done now. Whew. If you've made it to the end of this long repetitive introspection, congratulations. If you agree, feel free to tell me, and if you want to argue, go ahead, I wouldn't mind listening to others' opinions. If you read this and hate me because of this just keep that to yourself. I have no patience for people who attack those who don't agree with their ship. K thanks, bye.

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Tabaco y Brea

Part 7

Pairing: Javier Peña x female! DEA reader

Warnings: angst, brief mention of sex, embarrassment? If you think I should add something, let me know

Summary: Javi thinks about everything that led both of you here, and worries about what Escobar said.

A/N: well here it is! I hope you enjoy it. I wrote another part before this one that has, mmm, smut, I'll post it but I'm not sure when, keep an eye out. Also, I changed some things shown in the series a little bit, but nothing major. Thank you for reading!

Note: this is slightly edited, just a few format stuff.

Masterlist•Chapter 6• AO3 account

If you were to ask Javier what his craziest years have been, he wouldn’t even hesitate to tell you with certain fondness in his eyes, that both 1979 and 1980 were close to his breaking point.

When he arrived in Colombia in the early 70's, he didn't expect to get so attached to the land, to the people. Often, he came off as an asshole who was only there to do his job and fuck his way through Colombia. And usually, he had no problem with portraying that facade. It made everything easier, no one tried to mess with him or get close. He could sit silently on his desk and smoke as much as he wanted for as long as he desired, no one but the big bosses would mess with him. He was always in his own world.

The real world though, felt like it was falling apart every day, without thinking about stopping or at least slowing down. Javier always felt like he had to put it back together, which was ironic because if he wasn’t able to keep himself together, how much could he do for the world?

Everything had a dual perspective for him since the day he arrived. Knowing two languages gives you a certain advantage that changes slightly the way you see things. Sometimes the differences were strikingly wide, and sometimes he couldn’t tell the two apart. The way foreigners saw things was colder, insensitive. The locals felt things, mourned, and thought more about the people than politics.

Javier was always torn between the two. He was a foreigner but always tried his best to not act like one. That didn't stop him from fucking up greatly multiple times though.

Once, while he's looking at some pictures of a roadhouse, the sound of the Ambassador arguing with someone over the phone reaches his ears.

'And what the hell am I supposed to do with a girl who's mom is FBI? I have enough petulant bullshit to deal with Javier here"

That makes him frown. Is he really that annoying?

"I don't give a fuck if she was the best of her class, I don't need more agents."

It's not usual to hear the Ambassador swear, so Javier knows it must be something that really bothers her if she's so angry.

Trying not to alert anyone else about it, he sits more straight and leans his head slightly towards the Ambassador's office, trying to hear better.

"If you're gonna send her anyways, why the fuck did you bother to call me then?" There's a short pause. "Well thanks for the courtesy between agents, it's no fucking help. Goodbye."

Silence settles over the office again after that, and Javier didn't find out much anyways so he doesn't dwell on it and keeps reading about the new Narco that's growing quickly over México, with base in Nuevo Laredo. Something about it tells him it’s tied to Escobar in some way.

Days later, he finds out he's going to have a new partner. 

He doesn't care too much either. His partners always run away after some months. No one can handle this war for too long, and he's not sure how he's pulling through it. It weighs heavy on his shoulders. It makes him wake up sweaty from a nightmare, scares any kind of hunger away, reminds him why he should never get attached to anyone everyday. And still, he's doing much better than the people he's supposed to be helping. Several times he feels close to losing hope, to giving up. Every morning he wakes up, looks at the mirror and wonders what he's doing, why he's doing it. He's breaking, falling down, giving up. He wants to run away but it feels like betrayal, to just drop everything and go back to Texas as if nothing happened. He wants to, but knows he won't be able to live without guilt every day of his life. 

The guilt, the sorrow, everything is suffocating him. There's not a day when fresh air fills his lungs, the gun tucked inside his jeans feels like it weighs a ton and nothing makes sense anymore. He's working on autopilot.

And then you arrive. That pretty, smart girl from the Ventura Q of the DEA, top of her class, arrives and twists his entire life.

You, with your bright eyes and your bright smile and your love for life. With amazement showing in your features when you look at the city once he takes you to a viewpoint. You, with the little sounds of pleasure you make when you're eating something he bought for you to taste. With the addiction you have for dancing he knows came from your close relationship with your father. You, with your giggles and your little screams when he takes you to see The Shining.

You, with the love for little things he has never felt before.

And he's not a man who cares about many things, if he's being honest. He didn't know how overwhelming love feels, how it changes the way you see life once the sensation of pure ecstasy and happiness fills you and pumps through your veins.

But, once, as you both read through the reports of other agents after a raid, he stops for a second and turns to look at you.

And fuck if what he feels in that moment doesn't scare him shitless. 

It's not even a special moment. You're just frowning and circling a lot of things with a pink marker as you huff. But you manage to look like something his imagination would create to try and pull him out of self pity while doing so, tired from hours of nonstop working but still shining like a star, as marvelous as a work of art. Maybe something beyond that, something he doesn’t have a word for. He knows you're real because someone as dark and twisted as him could never create something as astonishing and beautiful as you.

 He shouldn't feel anything, he knows it's a stupid decision to pay attention to the feeling inside his chest.

But he does, he pays attention, and it's whispering this is how love feels. This is what you've been missing. 

Needless to say, it takes his breath away.

He falls in love.

He falls in love, without brakes or any kind of control that could stop him from doing so. He lets himself fall in love, embraces it but doesn't do anything about it. He yearns, he aches. He cries sometimes. He laughs others. He gets drunk and sings the songs the guys at Texas used to play when he still was the Deputy there. He still can’t sleep, but now there are entirely different reasons behind it. 

Sometimes, when he feels really good and he has a good day, he indulges in domestic fantasies that he knows won’t ever happen because he most likely won’t make it out alive from this mess. If the probability was small before, now that he has someone to lose and therefore protect, the probability is practically non-existent.

No, he doesn't do anything about it, but he refuses to let go of the feeling. It helped him see there are still things worth living and fighting for, after all.

And it comes to bite him in the ass when he hears Escobar shout "me saludas a tu papi" (say hello to your daddy for me) at you when he almost dies just after days of tension between you two, after he fucked up in Cali.

Why did he have to fuck up in Cali, of all places? Couldn't he fuck up in Medellín?

Then he fucks up a little more. In for a penny, in for a pound.

----

"Have you ever been in love before?"

Asking those words after what you've just done seems out of place. Asking the man you just fucked through the mattress if he knows about love comes as almost rude, but aren't nights supposed to be for this kinda thing?

Javier shakes his head. "No, I don't think so." he answers, voice low and tired. "I was gonna get married, but I don't think I loved her."

You prop into your elbow, turning to look at him. "What happened?"

He closes his eyes and takes a drag from his Marlboro. "She told me she was pregnant just to tie me to her. The day before the wedding, she called me," his voice turns bitter and somewhat disappointed, "and said she had gotten her period. I fled from there and drove without stopping for fear of her brothers following me."

You know who he’s talking about. Lorraine isn't someone he talks about much, but when he does it's never with a good tone, though never anything rude. Javi isn't much of talking anyways.

You nod and plop back to the bed. Silence fills the room again, hot and foggy from the sweat you worked up to with your activities.

This is a bad idea, you know it. Fucking and not actualy having a settled relationship is maybe the worst decision you've made with Javi, and the talks that always follow just make everything worse.

He lets out all the sounds he wants to, and you're sure he's not like that with other women. He's a sentimental man, sure, but he's too scared to let someone he doesn't know get too close, even if he aches for that kind of attention. He communicates a thousand things by touch, things that make you ask yourself if they're real or if you're only making everything up, too hopeful. You figure he feels safe in your embrace, thinking it's worth risking your working dynamic and your friendship by your actions.

You're happy to provide it, no problem. You just wonder how long will it last before you break or one of you gets hurt.

You cannot bring yourself to care enough to stop. 

"What about you?" He asks. Summers in México come to mind, along with days of the training in Ventura and parties in California, different names popping up. None of them make you feel quite as Javier always does with just a glance.

"I don't think so either." you answer honestly, "Not that I can remember, at least."

He shrugs. "If you can't remember any, then there isn't any. Love is not something you can forget about."

Javi also tends to become slightly poetic after a good fuck and a cigarette.

His ribs are still a little bit bruised from the gunshots of a few days ago, purple spots covering his waist and his chest. And you don’t like to think back to that day, it still haunts you. But every time you and Javi fucked in between that day and today, you have to ball your hands into fists and clench your teeth to stop your tears from falling. You have to remind yourself it’s just sex. Yes, you agreed to be exclusive but in no other way could you be considered a couple. Besides, relationships between agents are forbidden.

(Not that it would stop you, but still)

“And have you ever wanted to be in love?” 

Javier frowns at the ceiling. 

“I don’t think we have much of a choice when love comes our way. Either you fall in love and suffer, or you fall in love and embrace it.”

----

If he only knew.

Javier and Steve both turn to look at you, the question marks in their eyes are evident to you. You stand up, as clueless as them when you walk to the door.

“Bera,” the Ambassador’s voice comes from her office with too much volume. It makes you jump slightly. “Come here.”

Once inside, she gestures you to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. It feels like coming to the principal’s office as a little kid who got in trouble.

She just stares at you for a few seconds, not saying anything.

That’s never a good sign.

The silence becomes heavy, and you have to push down the urge to squirm under her stare. Once she speaks, you wish she hadn’t.

“Are you sure about what you’re doing?”

She doesn’t even have to say it aloud for you to understand what she’s talking about.

Fuck, is it really that obvious? You and Javier don’t even act different in front of anyone. There’s not even a big change to begin with. It's just sex. You’re not staring lovingly at each other’s eyes or playing footsie under the desk, Javier even stopped buying food for you only, now you have to share with him. 

You take a deep breath, torn between feigning ignorance or acknowledging the situation with as much dignity as possible.

She doesn’t even give you time to think.

“Don’t even try to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m old, I’ve seen some stuff and you can’t play dumb with me.”

Well, there goes that.

“Can I ask something first?”

That surprises her. She breaks from the intimidating posture from before and leans back on her chair, nodding.

“How did you notice?”

She laughs, interlacing her fingers in front of her and looking at you with amusement in her eyes.

“Honey, I noticed even before anything happened. You two are obvious as hell. Even a little kid could notice it by staying two minutes inside the same room as you.”

That doesn’t make any sense. Before Cali, even before Steve, you were never sure about Javier’s feelings. You knew he wasn’t indifferent to you, but with the way he carries himself around, it’s difficult to figure out if what he’s showing is really what he’s feeling.

You decide against saying anything else and nod. She sighs, shaking her head as she looks at you. 

“I just hope you don’t regret it later.”

Well, you’re right there with her on that one.

She ushers you outside and you quickly stand up, forcing your legs to work at a normal pace and not run away like your brain urges them to. 

Just as you’re about to get out of the office, you hear her speak again, but the words are not meant for you to hear.

“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him and then bring him back to life just to cut his balls off if he ever hurts her.”

You cover your mouth to stop the giggle from escaping, and walk to your desk with a smile on your face.

Javi arches his eyebrow at you. “Everything okay?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

He smiles at you and winks. You chuckle, shaking your head and turning to read the reports you have to deliver that day. Most likely than not, you’ll have to say late to finish. Javier too, just like the day before yesterday.

Blood runs hot down your body as you remember. It had been an amazing night. Javi’s desk has a crack on the edge to prove it.

Realization hits you.

Oh God, so that’s why she noticed.

Tabaco y Brea taglist: @larakasser @storiesofthefandomloversreblogs @fioccodineveautunnale @thisisthe-way @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @marydjarin @ithinkimhardcore @nellyneko

[clankitsfanfiction]

Thought: Indescribable Feeling (Disco Elysium Harry x Kim Oneshot)

Summary: PROBLEM: You've been friends with Kim for a while now. You feel like you know him well, or at least better than most of the people he interacts with. You can recognize the curve of his slight smile, the sparkle in his eye when he’s teasing you, and, of course, you’ve felt the authority his eyebrow holds. You know about his childhood wish to be a pilot, his secret love of science fiction, and just how big of a torque dork he is. You’re privy to the facts he keeps hidden, like how he struggles with showing emotions, how he still feels lonely despite the fact he enjoys isolation, his desire to do good in the world. Still, there's something about him that unsettles you— is it in his glasses, the lilt of his mouth, his knowledgeable eyes? And unsettles isn't really the right word, is it—but what is? What is this feeling when you look at Kim? Maybe if you think about it long enough, you can figure it out.

***

“Kim, how did you know you were... y’know?”He just raises an eyebrow. Of course, for all the times for his deductive reasoning to fail him, it had to be now, when you were asking him about his… sexuality. God, you can barely think the word in your head—how the hell are you supposed to say it out loud?

(read this on Archive of Our Own here or below the cut)

You're sitting in your shitty apartment, at your shitty table, in your shitty chair. The place is a lot cleaner than when you first saw it a month ago. When Kim broke into it with you—meaning when Kim called a locksmith and paid her for you—the place was covered in so much trash you could barely see the stained carpet floor. Half-drunk bottles of alcohol were littered around the place like you’d had a party the night before, different drugs and pills dotting your living room like fairy lights. Honestly, you’re surprised your past self would leave alcohol just lying around like this. You haven’t had a drop since you first woke up in the Whirling Rags, but your hands started itching and your brain started whispering when it noticed how easy it’d be to stuff some pills in your pocket or wrap your lips around the mouth of a bottle. Kim was kind enough to take care of all the narcotics for you, so you dealt with the more regular kinds of trash.

It was a two-day effort, all-in-all, with the first day focusing on just untrashing your place and the second on actually making it clean, scrubbing the floors and such. Kim helped you with all of it—you weren’t cleared back for work yet, and he’d taken a few days off after The Hanged Man. You felt guilty for having him spend some of his precious time off just cleaning you up, but were too much of a sack of shit to tell him he didn’t need to help. You’re pretty sure you did need his help, anyways—you definitely wouldn’t have been emotionally prepared to confront this relic of the past on your own.  

You have a plastic tare in your hands, and your fingers are peeling away at the wrapper surrounding it advertising whatever brand. Damn Capitalists. The little sticky pieces cling to your hands in a pale imitation of what they once were, whole, together. They’re searching desperately for something to hold on to. You’re vaguely reminded of how your past refuses to leave you, despite the fact your amnesia appears to be here to stay. You shake your hand, but the scraps stay on. Awkwardly, you try to pick them off with your left hand, hoping they won’t stick to it. You’re stalling. You're nervous. Of course you are. How could you not be, with what you’ve been thinking about lately?

Kim is sitting across from you, silent, as usual. He’s watching you fail to rid yourself of the stupid plastic remnants with a mildly amused look in his eyes. His own water is near untouched. He’d probably be drinking wine if he was with anyone else. You’re stuck between feeling guilty at denying him one of his few indulgences and feeling so damn grateful that you want to hug him. You two have been making rather pleasant conversations most of the night. You’ve discussed lots of things, like your current cases, his cases, how long it might take for Lena to mail a reply, whether or not Kim will be able to talk his way into transferring the Coupris Kineema to Precinct 41 anytime soon. The current lull in talk is comfortable, natural—a thing of friendship. Kim knows you, knows how you work, how you speak, how you breathe. He knows you have something on your mind, and he'll wait until you're ready to say it. Until then, he’ll sit there, patiently waiting. God, Kim’s so cool.

How well do you know Kim? Sure, you became friends over the course of The Hanged Man investigation, but how well do you really know him? Yes, okay, he joined Precinct 41 because you suggested it, and he’s not your partner anymore (Jean said he’d “put up with too much of your shit to be ousted by the first guy you latched onto after drinking yourself into fucking amnesia”) but you still see each other every day. He’s been your rock ever since you came into existence, but you haven’t been his. You’re like an annoying yappy dog with separation anxiety, except it’s also an alcoholic. Who the fuck wants a depressed acoholic dog following them around?  

See, the thing is, there's this thought in your head. You've had it in there for quite a while, but you've yet to come up with a solution. You don't know what's going on, what's happening in your head and body. You don't understand it. You're not sure if you want to.

See, the thing is, you look at Kim, and there's a drop in your stomach. A punch to the gut. It feels like you've stepped off the edge of a cliff backwards, your eyes pointed helplessly towards the sky as you plummet to the ground. You don't know what's beneath you. You don't know what you're rushing towards.

It's not a bad thing, necessarily. It's a little uncomfortable, a little sad, a little desperate, but also—hopeful? Wistful? Longing, maybe?

Your tongue is thick and heavy in your mouth like a brick weighing down a tarp—how could it not be, with what you're about to ask? Kim is a very private person. It took you ages to work up the confidence to call him your friend outside the privacy of your own mind, and sometimes, you're still not sure he is. He might just be indulging the demands of his superior, or hanging out with you completely due to pity. How could someone so cool be friends with you? Thankfully, you're pretty sure it's only a little bit due to pity (how could anyone look at the sack of shit you are and not pity you) as he does seem to genuinely enjoy your company, for whatever reason.

Kim must have other friends he hangs out with. He’s a little anti-social, but he’s a nice guy, and pleasant to be around. Very amicable. You wonder if he misses anyone from Precinct 57. He must, he was there for what, twenty years? No way he’s completely a lone wolf after that much time. Does he miss them? Does he regret transferring? You’re the one who put the idea out there, so if he does, he must also regret meeting you.

He’s neatly slotted into the C-Wing at Precinct 41. Jean respects him, both as an officer and as a person, perhaps doubly so for being willing to put up with so much of your shit. McLaine and Torson admire how badass and cool he is. Minot appreciates his quiet and reserved nature, as does Pidieu. Even Gottlieb seems to like him, probably because he, unlike most of the other officers, is cautious and tries not to end up with more scars than necessary. And Trant is just a civilian consultant, but they seem to get along well enough. But, again, he must’ve had friends, good friends even, at 57. You feel guilty for dragging him away from them, you greedy bastard. You find something good and precious and you grab it and hold on tight with your big fucking paws. You’re a bastard who will hold on whenever there’s something good in your life until it crumbles due to the pressure you put on it.

No. No, Goddamit, fuck that. Kim chose to transfer. He could’ve brushed off your suggestion, politely smiled at you and declined, but he took it seriously and thought about it and made the final decision. Kim’s a fucking adult, and a Dolores-damn badass, he knows how to take care of himself. He knows how to take care of himself and then some. He took care of you during The Hanged Man case and he’s continuing to take care of you now. He’s someone with intense personal boundaries who’s decided to become friends with a recovering alcoholic and let you cry on his shoulder. Sure, you may have developed an unhealthy amount of dependency on him and his opinion of you, but you’re also recovering for yourself, damn it.

It is unhealthy, though, how much you’re doing it to make Kim proud of you. But you can’t help it. You can’t help how you feel about him.

You should say something. It’s been a little too long for this silence to be comfortable. Besides, you’ve been avoiding the topic you want to ask him about for long enough. You wish you had someone else to ask about this—you think Judit might be able to help, maybe even Jean, but they both knew you before, and you think it’d only hurt all of you if you asked them about it. And it would be unbelievably awkward. It’s going to be awkward enough asking Kim, who only knows your sins through stories instead of personal experience.

You clear your throat. “Kim, how did you know you were... y’know?”

He just raises an eyebrow. Of course, for all the times for his deductive reasoning to fail him, it had to be now, when you were asking him about his… sexuality. God, you can barely think the word in your head—how the hell are you supposed to say it out loud?

Alright, better to just dive in head first. Get it over with. Straight and simple. Or, would that be gay and simple? Non-straight and simple?

God, okay, focus. Asking Kim about sexuality. Go.

“Kim, how did you know you were a homo-sexual?”

His breath doesn’t catch , exactly, and you’re sure you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking, but his eyes widen just a fraction, and he leans back just the slightest bit, the chair not even creaking his weight shifts so little. Whatever he was expecting you to ask, it clearly wasn’t that .

He gives himself a moment to think by pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the cloth that he always keeps handy. You don’t call him out on it—it’s an intensely personal question, after all, and he deserves a second to consider it.

He puts his glasses back on and looks at you. The light catches them in just a way to make his eyes invisible in the gleam. Finally, he gives you a wry grin. “You clearly didn’t stop obsessing about sexuality.”

“See, the thing is, I just sort of tabled the issue for the time being, as we were busy solving a murder and there was other stuff to think about it. But then we solved the murder, and then I had plenty of time to think, but I’ve yet to come up with any conclusions.” You’ve finally gotten all of the plastic off your hands, and drum your newly clean fingers against the table. “Sorry I’m asking you about all of this stuff again. The only other people I really know are you and the others at Precinct 41. And I don’t think I’m on good enough standing to talk to them about it. Sorry,” you add again for good measure.

(You’ve been trying to cut back on the sorries, but it’s hard. Jean has threatened more than once to put a Sorry Jar on your desk, and you think the only reason he hasn’t is because he hasn’t found a jar big enough.)

Kim takes a deep breath. His fingers seem to twitch absentmindedly, and you’re sure if he was less principled, he’d been fiddling with the neck of his jacket or chewing on the side of his cheek, which you’d only seen him done once, when the two of you were interviewing a particularly racist woman in the precinct who had two young children with her.

“I was thirteen, I think.” You struggle not to interrupt—that’s so young! You’re not even sure if you knew you were… whatever you are before, and you had 44 years to figure it out. “There… there was a boy I liked. His name was Daniel. He was a bit of a rebel, skipping class to smoke, and he claimed to own a motorcycle, though I never saw it. I liked him.”

Hm… Well, that’s not particularly helpful. It’s not like you can talk about your own maybe-possibly homo-sexual awakening, since you’re pretty sure it involves—

What does it involve?

Wait, shit, Kim’s about to speak again.

“Harry…” Oh snap! He pulled out your name! He’s only done that, like, five times! “I’m making some assumptions about what you’re struggling with, and I wanted to ask if you’ve ever head of bi-sexuality?”

You rack your brain, but, nope, nada, nothing. No no nopey nope. But bi stands for two, right?

“Don’t think so. But I’m pretty sure bi stands for two, so I’m guessing it has to do with the number two?”  

Kim gives you a small smile, and you struggle not to preen under his approving eyes. “Yes. Bi-sexuality refers to individuals who are attracted to two, or possibly more, genders.” He waits quietly for you to process this.

Oh. Oh. Oh! Bi- sexuality, meaning two, as compared to homo-sexuality, meaning those attracted to the same gender. That was a pretty easy leap, now that you think about it. You should’ve been able to do it on your own.

Bi-sexuality. Attraction to multiple genders. Huh. You’re pretty sure that’s what you are. Feels nice to have some kind of label for yourself. You mouth the words, testing them out in your mouth. Bi-sexual. You wonder how Kim learned about all of this. Though if he’s known he’s a part of the Homo-sexual Underground since he was thirteen, he’s had a lot of time to research this, probably. You wonder if Kim once thought he was bi-sexual. That one is probably a bit too personal, not that that’s stopped you before, but no reason to push.

Wait. Multiple genders? As in, more than two?

“Wait. Multiple genders? As in, more than two?”

Kim reaches across the table and pats your resting left hand. “I think that’s a conversation for another time, hmm?”

Sounds good to you! You’ve had enough learning for tonight.

“Thank you for this, Kim. Really, I mean it. Sorry again about asking.”

He smiles again and leans toward you, letting his gloved palm settle on your shoulder. “No need to apologize, Harry. I’m happy to help educate you on your journey of self-discovery. Though perhaps give me a bit more warning next time. If you’d like, I can lend you some reading materials.”

He lets his hand drop back to his side, but you still feel the heat in your body where his gloved skin touched you. You burn with it. The feeling of his touch has lit some sort of fire in you, and the way he’s looking at you is only fanning the flames.

You barely manage to give a tiny nod in response to his statement, and your hands fly to your tare bottle again, desperate to clutch something and have a weight to ground yourself.

Kim settles back into his chair, content again, and you figure he’s giving you more time to process the new information he’s giving you. A Kim secret about his childhood and a big clue (if not the answer) about your sexuality. God, he’s so cool.

You find it in you to look at Kim again, out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly, finally, the thought clicks in your head. Whatever is going on with you, whatever is happening, you seem to have finally figured it out. At the very least, you’ve put a name to the feeling you have when you stare at him.

When you look at Kim, his dissecting eyes, his thick glasses, his quirked eyebrow, the subtle curve in the corner of his lips that's like a secret little smile just for himself, one you wouldn’t be able to read if you weren’t so attuned to him, the brush of his hair that he keeps oh so neatly managed, his gloves clean of any sign of his smoking, of the one cigarette he allows himself, one of his few vices he indulges in, Dolores Dei, his everything—

It's yearning.

You look at Kim, and you yearn. You yearn to touch the slender fingers that lay beneath his thick leather gloves, to examine his dark eyes up close, to feel his hands on you, to, to, to—

For what, though? What exactly do you yearn for?

That thought will take you at least another eight hours. Or twenty hours. Or whatever.

[rockshortage]

SKILLS - Fallout OC Ask Prompt

Here it is, everything in one place. The questions I haven’t answered already in a different post are in bold so you can easily skip to those if you want.

now all in bold because it’s been a while since I posted this

Barter

1. How important is making money or acquiring wealth to your character? Do they even need it? 

Hector generally makes do with what he has, but he sure as hell enjoys the monetary benefits to being Overboss. Finally he can indulge a bit, get a semblance of pre-war comforts back and invest the surplus to get the rest of Nuka World to that stage too. And also buy a bunch of shit he doesn’t need because he thinks it’s cool. And since part of the Overboss’ job is to flex on everyone once in a while, he allows himself to be a bit excessive sometimes.

2. Is your character quick to take care of others in need, or do they look out for themselves first and foremost?

If they’re a good friend, they almost always come first. With strangers/acquaintances, it depends a lot on the situation and on what people expect of him. He has trouble saying no, so if someone asks him for help, he’s not likely to leave them hanging. If not specifically asked, he’Il try to just kinda slip away undetected (which often works well because he doesn’t have much of a presence). Nothing is his business unless people make it so. He will feel bad about his inaction in various situations though.

3. What is something other than money that could make your character do something they otherwise wouldn’t want to do? What about something they otherwise really, really, really wouldn’t want to do?

He does a lot of things he doesn’t want to due to peer pressure or expectations people have of the Overboss.

For the latter, if his own safety or the safety of someone or something he really cares about is seriously threatened. Blackmail, basically. Or if it’s something that someone he cares about would really appreciate. Like this is their lifelong dream and Hector can make it reality if he just does this thing that he absolutely does not want to do. He’d do that.

Energy Weapons

4. Does your character prefer high-tech or low-tech solutions to problems?

High-tech if there is time for it, as that usually takes longer than the equivalent of hitting the problem with a rock. He’s a techy guy, solving problems using his field of expertise is fun and rewarding, so that’s what he’ll usually try to do. But sometimes he can’t argue with the simplest solution often being the best.

5. What does your character think about pre-war society? 

Hard to say since I haven’t really worked out what the heck he was doing pre-war and how much he remembers of it. But he’s always been rather isolated, whether that be of his own choice or a result of his conditions. Which means he doesn’t care all that much about society and whatever it’s up to again. He’s just trying to vibe in his own little space. I can’t imagine him being happy that they started a war though. He doesn’t regret the loss of society as much as he regrets the loss of the comforts and luxuries it brought him. Existential dread about the world ending bad but not worrying about more immediate threats to his life in the form of wasteland inhabitants good.

6. Is your character easily exhaustible? Are they normally an energetic person or more lethargic? If the former, what would reduce them to the latter; if the latter, what would excite them into the former?

It’s not that he’s easily exhaustible, he’s got rather good endurance and drive. It’s just that he is exhausted most of the time, due to his sleep issues. So his default state is generally on the lethargic side, but he has bursts of energy. Be that finding the fun in clearing the parks and destroying shit, or less noticeably when he’s engrossed in a project.

Explosives

7. How does your character express anger? Do they have a short temper, do they bury their rage until they burst, or can they handle it well?

He usually buries it, at least for the moment. Put on a pokerface and then release his anger later with the help of loud music or going out into the wastes and destroying some shit. There are exceptions, where he loses his shit on the spot, the main one being someone ‘hurting’ MAAK.

8. Does your character have any particular pet peeves that irritate them?

Way too fucking many to list – once he notices that is. The only reason he doesn’t spend every second of being around other people angry is that he’s often kind of oblivious or anxious, which makes him self-centered and not notice the little things people are doing around him.

I think I named a few examples in another ask meme, such as excessive public displays of affection and loud/open mouthed chewing. Here’s another one: when someone uses a lot abbreviations and acronyms and assumes everyone will just know what they mean. It’s often a cultural thing and therefore most if not all people around him will know, but Hector can’t ask ‘what does this mean’ 7 times in one conversation because then he’ll look stupid but he literally cannot follow this conversation anymore which will also make him look stupid if someone catches onto it and this could have all been avoided if they said actual words instead of nonsensical amalgamations of letters and ARGH.

9. Is there anything that anyone who knows better should avoid bringing up to your character (i.e., any conversational landmines)?

I was gonna say criticism about MAAK, but if I’m getting this right, ‘anyone who knows better’ means they have some form of positive relationship with Hector. So I’m not sure this applies all that well. They’d still have to be careful around the subject because he takes this kind of thing personally very quickly, but if they are an acquaintance or friend, he will be a bit more lenient instead of like… trying to fistfight them on the spot. Maybe he’ll let a comment slide or calmly remind them to Not Speak Their Mind about this. Seriously. Back Off From This Topic And We Won’t Have A Problem.

Can’t think of any better examples right now, file it under pending character development :V

Guns

10. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they good in a fight, whether armed or not?

He prefers to be far away from his target and pick them off before a fight can really break out, so his go to is a sniper rifle. Though he hasn’t (or rather I haven’t) found ‘the one’ yet. It’s a dilemma between ballistics, which are more fun to shoot, and energy weapons, which have little to no recoil and are therefore much easier to handle (and because technology cool). It’s probably going to be a heavily modified laser/plasma/gauss rifle of some kind.

He’s not very good when it gets to close range. He has to end the fight as quickly as he can, put some distance between himself and his opponent, or just try to outlast them by dodging/absorbing hits until they tire themselves out.

11. Has your character ever killed anyone purely in cold blood?

I might just be dumb but I’m having genuine trouble deciding what counts as cold blood and what doesn’t. Since Hector frequents raider circles where murder is almost normalized, I feel like the definition of it gets much more narrowed down, which means there’s a chance he’s never actually killed someone by strict definition of ‘cold blood’ (without emotion or mercy). From a non-raider, upstanding citizen viewpoint though? All the fucking time.

(Technically obsolete since I rewrote the answer, but I’ll leave this here anyway: Say, he has to lead a raid on a settlement – the people there have done nothing wrong, but they’re on turf that one of the gangs really wants, and Hector hasn’t been able to convince them to just leave. So they have to die, and Hector has to set an example to keep the respect of the gangs. He’ll do it, but it’s shitty and he’ll feel awful, their terrified faces and dying breaths haunt him for a while. From an outside perspective, he killed them in cold blood. But on the inside, Hector isn’t emotionless about it at all, it doesn’t feel good, it wasn’t fun, he’s full of regret and he dreads the next time he has to do this again.)

12. What are your character’s opinions on war? Is it something necessary or barbaric, or both? Do they believe in noble conflict or the existence of “a good war?”

As with many things, he can be swayed in either direction, depending on the circumstances, the people around him, and his own memories. Sometimes he thinks it’s a necessary means to an end, might even go as far as to glorify certain aspects of it – as long as he has the outside perspective. When he’s actually involved himself and everything gets too close for comfort, he’ll see how ugly of an affair it really is and regret that he ever condoned any of it. …until he forgets again.

Lockpick

13. Does your character prefer careful finesse or brute force in most situations? 

Careful finesse, definitely. It really frustrates him to watch people trying to brute force something that would be solved so much easier if they just showed a little care.

14. How greedy is your character? Would they scavenge anything and everything they can carry from someplace “just in case”, or only ever take what they know they need?

By that definition, very greedy. But like, why go out to scavenge ruins and not take everything you see? Are you really gonna leave half the stuff just in case some other scavenger maybe comes across it at some point later? Nah, you take that shit and then have Gage pressure you into selling the surplus later even though you wanna keep it, there’s still a little bit of room in the storage, come on, Porter don’t be like this

15. What is your character’s most prized possession, and where do they keep it?

Does MAAK count? Because MAAK definitely is his pride and joy. He keeps MAAK with him as much as he can. And most likely his preferred weapon, once I figure out what it is exactly.

Medicine

16. How does your character tolerate pain? How do they handle stress and trauma?

He tolerates pain very well in the moment it happens initially. It’s not always out of survival instinct and such like I’ve specified previously, sometimes it’s just sheer embarrassment / anxiety. When he gets hurt while people see, his immediate instinct is “it’s fine, i’m fine, nothing to see here” and then he’ll go hide somewhere and decide for real if it’s actually fine or not.

He handles the aftermath of injuries a lot less well. You know the cliché of men being much more sensitive to pain/sickness than women and just being very noticeable in their misery? That’s Hector once he’s back in the safety of his home and recovering from his injuries. (usually MAAK is on the receiving end of his suffering but unfortunately for Gage it’s more satisfying to lament at someone who can actually react)

17. Does your character have any habits? Any tics, fixations, rituals, superstitions, or dependencies?

Totally. Hector is very much a creature of habit and it takes real effort to get him out of his comfort zone. He’d absolutely have a tic or two but I can’t come up with anything specific that isn’t just randomly made up. I’m thinking something along the lines of fixing his clothing a lot, like pulling at his gloves checking his collar, etc. But it’s nothing solid, so I’ll leave that aside for now.

A daily (if possible) ritual is writing in his journal. It helps him retain information and gives him some peace of mind that even if he forgets, he’ll be able to look it up again.

No superstitions (or none that I can think of). He loves to challenge superstitions actually, because it’s all complete and utter bullshit to him. This is actually one of the rare cases he does not care to think of people’s feelings first and can be a total dick on purpose. Oh you’re scared bad things will happen if I do this? Haha fuck you, not only will I open this umbrella inside, I will also smash a mirror with it and specifically point out to you that I am not knocking on wood.

18. What’s something that always makes your character feel better (physically, emotionally, mentally)?

A nice warm shower and sleeping in a clean bed afterwards. Being outside at night when it’s a little chilly and dark enough so he can take off his mask or other clothing items. Bonus points when there’s a campfire, so the lighting is nice and it’s just a little bit spooky, and he’s able to feel warmth on his skin without being burned. Being around MAAK, baby talking to him, cleaning his chassis, feeding him some trash. Listening  and singing along to his favorite music.

Melee Weapons

19. What does it take to motivate your character to violence? Do they try to avoid violence as much as possible, are they willing and able to instigate violence, or are they even outright bloodthirsty?

Necessity is his main motivator. He tries to avoid violence as much as he can (in most scenarios), but he also won’t always bend over backwards to find a peaceful solution to everything. Instigating it is kinda difficult for him though, it’s so much easier if the other one attacks first and he can react in self defense.

20. How resourceful is your character? How adept are they at improvising with things around them or repurposing random junk into valuables, weapons, or tools? 

Now this is something he excels at, mostly when there’s tech involved. Don’t just destroy turrets and robots, change their targeting parameters so they fight for him instead. Rig one up to explode and let it run into crowds of enemies. Have a speaker emit a frequency that either attracts or repels wildlife and ferals. Use that highly dangerous power line to electrocute a gatorclaw. Set up a whole grid that’ll fry the ferals or bloodworms. So many options.

21. Does your character have any comfort objects that they prefer to keep on their person as much as possible, or frequently hold in their hand just to hold it?

MAAK unfortunately does not fit in his pocket, so keeping him around at all times is more complicated. Maybe I’ll figure out some small comfort object at some point because I like the idea, but for now it’s just good old impractical emotional support robot MAAK.

Repair

22. What is your character’s single most handy trait or skill?

Engineering/robotics.

23. How concerned is your character with practicality? Are they more down-to-earth, grounded, or focused on necessity, or are they more of a dreamer, indulgent, or reckless?

More of the latter. Simple and practical things are good and all, and he’s often satisfied enough with them. But what really sparks joy is going above and beyond and just kinda off the wall sometimes. He has the resources now instead of having to just scrape by on the bare necessities, so why wouldn’t he take that opportunity??

24. How quick is your character to forgive? Are they able to earn forgiveness from others easily?

In theory, he’s the type to hold grudges. In practice, he has bad memory and sometimes forgets who wronged him or why.

Earning forgiveness doesn’t come super easy because he’s bad at communication. He shoves problems and issues aside because confronting them is uncomfortable. Even if he feels bad about X thing he did to Y person and he could just apologize.

Science

25. What kind(s) of intelligence would you say that your character does and does not have?

Thanks to a different meme I learned of the nine types of intelligence, so I’ll use those here:

High: Logical-mathematical, linguistic, spatial

Medium: musical, bodily-kinesthetic, naturalistic

Low: intrapersonal, interpersonal, existential

26. What kinds of things fascinate your character? Do they have any personal interests that aren’t necessarily practical, but that they just like?

A whole lot of things he’s interested in aren’t exactly practical. Those things are generally in the realm of book smarts, which can be useful, but often don’t have direct applications to his job or survival in general. e.g. knowing how nuclear fusion works on an atomic level is great and all but that deathclaw does not care and only wants to eat you

27. Does your character appreciate a good puzzle, or any other kind of intellectual or strategic challenge (e.g. Sudoku, chess)?

Yeah! Mostly the things he can do on his own though or things that are at least cooperative. There’s a considerable inhibition level when it comes to competitive strategy games like chess, but if ‘forced’ into a round he’d probably end up enjoying it.

Sneak

28. How does your character handle being alone in a wide-open space, being one of many in a large crowd, and being stuck with someone else one-on-one? 

Alone in wide-open spaces: hell yeah

Large crowds: hell no please get him out of there asap

One-on-one: this is ok, he can deal with this. If it’s the right person he’ll even enjoy himself.

29. How does your character behave when nobody else is around? How does this differ from how they act around strangers, friends, or lovers?

When no one is around and no one can hear him, he tends to be the most energetic, coming out of his shell. He’ll turn up the music, sing along loudly, dance around, do theatrics. Have in depth discussions about this or that with MAAK, an inanimate object, or himself. Or on the flip side just vibing quietly and comfortably.

Some of that carries over once high enough friendship levels are gained. Strangers on the other hand are not allowed to see that side of him, no, he’s just a quiet and uninteresting guy, nothing to see here.

Lovers? What’s that

30. Suppose your character just wants to disappear; where would they want to disappear to?

Far Harbor looks tempting.

Speech

31. What does your OC sound like? What is the tone of their voice, their cadence, and their vocabulary; are they particularly profane or eloquent? Are they funny, and if so, what’s their sense of humor? Are they long-winded or do they speak little, and if it’s the latter, is that only because they’re concise or is it because they have genuine trouble speaking?

His voice is on the deep side but not remarkably so. He generally speaks in a soft manner, but he can get surprisingly loud for a man of his stature. Vocabulary is all over the place. He has a tendency to be formal and use big words, but then the next moment he’s trying to describe the thingy and the stuff with the some such and whatever, like fuck man, speaking hard.

He has a case of the dad humor. Some people will find that funny, some will not find it funny but a bit endearing, and others will find it not funny and incredibly aggravating. His jokes are generally innocent enough, but he can get dark too. Usually rather dry.

How little or how much he speaks depends entirely on the situation and the topic. He rattles on endlessly about Science and has an unfortunate tendency to mansplain. But when he’s not super passionate about something, it’s just whatever. If he doesn’t feel like he has anything of value to add, he just keeps quiet.

32. Is your character a good liar, or can they manipulate people well? Are they able to conceal what they mean or what they’re feeling, or are they an open book whether they mean to be or not? 

He’s quite good at withholding information, but not at straight up lying to someone’s face. His entire attire helps a lot with concealing his feelings or intent. Having no visible facial expressions and a robotic modulated voice allow him to come across as cold and distant, downright emotionless to people who don’t know him or don’t know him well (with a bit of practice). That said, he wouldn’t even know where to start at attempting to manipulate someone.

Hector can be hard to figure out, but once you invest some time and effort into doing that (like Gage was forced to), he’s pretty much an open book in most situations.

33. What is something that could be said to your character that would be unforgivable, either by someone in general or by someone specific? How would they respond?

This is hard. Hector gets insulted / hurt fairly easily and tends to hold onto that negativity longer than he should, but all that mostly stems from his low self-esteem. And it’s rarely stuff that cuts so deep that a continued relationship / association is unthinkable. If Gage was to make it clear to Hector that making him Overboss was actually a horrible mistake and he almost wishes he had Colter back? Oof, ouch, that hurts a lot, but like… he’s not wrong. Gage knows what he’s talking about and Hector never was the perfect man for the job, nor did he want it. Yeah he was trying really hard and maybe he thought he was making good progress, but if Gage says it’s not enough, then it’s not enough.

Before I go too far off track – I’m not sure there’s really one thing someone can say that would be unforgivable. If there is, it would definitely have to be someone Hector trusts / trusted. But actions speak much louder than words. Gage saying he wishes for a different boss is one thing. It hurts but it’s a fair sentiment and doesn’t change the fact that they still have to work together. But Gage actively replacing him, spitting on all their hard work and throwing whatever relationship they had into the trash in the process? There’s no going back to normal after that.

Survival

34. How well does your character take care of themselves in the wilderness? Do they feel most at home in the wilderness, small settlements, or densely inhabited areas? Are there any particular reasons why that is?

As much as Hector likes keeping to himself, he’s not the type of survivor to go out into the deepest wilderness. He could survive out there, but his quality of life would probably be pretty bad. His ideal place would be near a small settlement, within comfortable enough walking distance but not really part of it. He can go into town maybe once a week for supplies and just be alone in his humble abode the rest of the time.

35. What kind of diet does your character keep? Is it more indiscriminate, or picky or particular? Are they good cooks, whether in a kitchen or by a fire? Do they think of food as simple sustenance, or do they appreciate indulgent dishes and finer flavors? Do they have a favorite food?

He's not a picky eater by any means. He will eat what’s on the table and not complain, unless it’s like actually rotting. His cooking is fine, of course until he gets creative with it and makes questionable combinations happen. But what I didn’t mention there is that he only rarely gets the chance to do some train wreck cooking. Usually he does have to treat food as just fuel that lets him go about his day due to the impracticality of having to wear a mask and not being able to take it off during the daytime. And it’s rather difficult to find an interior that reliably lets no sunlight in among all the ruins of the wasteland. When he’s on the road, he quite often just has to go find a reasonably dark corner in which to crouch down and cram in a nutrient bar like some kind of feral man who hasn’t eaten in a week.

36. What keeps your character going? What is the one thing that they have that could motivate them to keep persisting if they lost literally everything else?

There is not one sole thing. Hector has to find drive and motivation in anything at all, because what other choice does he have? There’s no real sense of purpose or meaning to life for someone like him, and he prefers not to think about it too much (or rather not at all). Currently, it’s the friendships he’s made. His responsibilities as Overboss. Whatever little project is on his mind right now. And when all is lost, he has to bide his time, wait until he forgets whatever or whoever he’s grieving. Then it’s back to the same old.

Unarmed

37. How good is your character with their hands or fingers? Do they have a light, gentle touch, or are they hard or uncoordinated? Does your character have any dexterous talents?

Light and gentle, his manual dexterity is above average but nothing outlandish. Just someone who works with his hands a lot and developed his skill accordingly.

38. Is your character physically expressive or do they make a lot of gestures (i.e. do they “talk with their hands”), and if so, what kinds of gestures do they make?

He’s fairly expressive with his hands – less when he’s in an uncomfortable social situation and more when he’s going off about science. It’s a way for him to compensate for the lack of facial expressions. Can’t go that deep yet to name specific actions.

39. Does your character like to be touched or touch others? How does your character value personal space? What kinds of boundaries, physical and otherwise, are important to your character?

In general, no, no touching, keep away, personal space radius is higher than most people’s. Also don’t like, ask him about his day or feelings too much. He’s open about his feelings on his own volition but shrivels up in ‘I don’t know how to communicate’ when specifically prompted. I can imagine there’s a situation of him being severely touch starved going on here, but I’m unsure how much it would take to get him to accept / feel comfortable with physical touch, let alone crave it. In the meantime, he can go hug an animal. Mason always knows when Hector’s particularly sad/emotional because that’s when he comes to the zoo to hug a furry creature. Yes MAAK is his emotional support robot and absolutely his number 1 go-to for that, but sometimes the cold metal of a robot just doesn’t cut it. Sometimes he needs something that’s equally pure of heart but warm and alive

[hangcdraven-a]

Muse Interview Meme

tagged by @akardlanya

1. What is your name?

“Illya Devorak. But Jullian is fine.” 

2. Do you know why you’re named that?

“No. I guess my parents liked the name. Not like I could ask them why they picked it for me anyways.”

3. Are you single or taken?

“Single. Why? You offering?”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“ I am a Doctor, unlicensed, but I am good at what I do. I was able to heal any injury thanks to a deal though since dying I and coming back I’m unable to do that anymore. I guess I can also understand Malak and I don’t like to tell anyone that because I don’t know what to do or what that entails now!!!”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“A what?”

6. What’s your eye color?

“They’re rather dull. Just a simple grey. Nothing special about that.”

7. How about your hair color?

“Auburn. Looks more like a brown at times though.”

8. Have any family members?

“My parents are unfortunately dead. I have my sister Portia however. I consider Mazelinka and all the people who took care of us in Nevivion family as well. They didn’t have to help or take us in but they did...”

9. Oh! How about pets?

“I had a dog called Brundle, but well... She... Anyways, I also have Malak but I wouldn’t consider him a pet. More like a friend or companion.”

10. That’s cool, I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

“Magic?... People pushing me to the side like I’m worth nothing after I’ve been useful to them.”

11. Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

“Reading. I night out to the Rowdy Raven. Or just going on an adventure. Travel the place so that I can see new things, meet new people and maybe even learn new things as well.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“I’m a doctor. Sometimes I have to hurt in order to save a life. Like amputate someones arm off. But... I have hurt people in other ways. Especially the people I care about either emotionally, my words, how I treat them and even me being a self-sacrificing idiot has hurt the ones I care for...”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Not... Not intentionally. I guess. Being a medic on a war field? Sometimes you do drastic things to ensure you don’t die... I’ve also had patients who’ve died by my hands as I tried to save them.... Does that count?”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I’d assume a raven considering Malak and how the Major Arcana I relate to the most is The Hanged Man who is simply a anthropomorphic raven.”

15. Name your worst habits?

“I could be here all day if you let me. For now, I’ll say one of my worst habits is burdening myself with problems and trying to solve them without getting any help from people who are willingly to help.”

16. Do you look up to anyone?

“I look up to Nazali. They where my mentor for years and really knew their stuff. I learnt a lot from them during my time with them.”

17. Are you gay, straight, or bisexual?

“I would say pansexual. It doesn’t matter to me what someone looks like in the end. It’s what counts is who they are as a person in the end.”

18. Do you go to school?

“Not really? True I was taught to read and write from a young age but I believe my parents taught me. I apprenticed to become a Doctor so while I was learning under other Doctors I wasn’t exactly at a school to begin with.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“One day eventually with the right person.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“A lot of people like me for some reason, but I wouldn’t say they where ‘fanboys’ or ‘fangirls’.”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“Being abandoned and forgotten...”

22. What do you usually wear?

“What you see on me right now. A white shirt, black trousers, boots, gloves and a cloth sash as well as rope around my waist. I also have a black jacket and cape that I wear too. Oh! And my eye-patch as well. That tends to be my daily attire..”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Lobster claws. They’re expensive and unfortunately I can’t exactly afford them as often as I’d like, but when I can I’m always partial  to indulge on them.”

24. Am I annoying to you?

“I wouldn’t say that now. You shouldn’t think that you’re annoying simply because you want to get to know anyone. I’m enjoying our conversation as well as your questions.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“I always enjoy a good conversation anyways!”

26. What class are you? (low/middle/high)

“I would say middle considering I got an education...  But I don’t have a lot of money due to being on the run for around three years and my clinic is in pretty bad condition thanks to everything... Maybe low? I’m uncertain. I might be a mix of the two at the moment...”

27. How many friends do you have?

“I have many acquaintances but as for people I can truly consider a friend? Very few...”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie is fine. Not my favourite thing in the world but I’d still eat it.”

29. Favorite drink?

“You might think it’s Salty Bitters but you’d be wrong. It’s coffee. Strong black coffee that hasn’t been tainted in the slightest.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“I like the Rowdy Raven. It’s a familiar and comforting place.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“I... Maybe?”

32. That was a stupid question…

“I wouldn’t worry about that now. We all say some ridiculous things at times.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“The ocean. I used to do it as a child. It’s been a while since then however. I’d like to swim in the ocean again someday.”

34. What’s your type?

“Someone who likes me even with my flaws.”

35. Any fetishes?

“I-Uh-Um... L-Lets skip this question we’ll be here all day aha...”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Both of these are outside though? A rather vague question is it not? From what I can gather it seems as if you’re applying if outside, would you prefer to be just outdoors or in a camping situation instead. I’d say both. Sometimes it’s nice to be outdoors. Other times it’s nice to be camping with people you’re travelling with.”

Tagging: Whoever wants to do this

[ghostmartyr]

Right, this is pretty steeped in fandom stuff, so for the anons in the back who think that’s an invitation to continually send me hate over having feelings, you’ve misunderstood our relationship (again), and also do not. I just need a release valve.

What’s stupid is that I need people. I will abandon schedules for five more minutes of conversation. The only reason I write at all is so that maybe someone will talk to me. I sink into depression in two minutes flat with some friends if conversation starters go unheard. I can have a good day of socializing, and the second the people go away, it’s like it never happened. I need more.

Except I’m also deeply emotionally unstable and vulnerable. In fandom in particular, I currently have a long list of stuff that sets me off. I do what I can to not go near, then ah, surprise, this blog you thought was okay hit a sore point, you’re alone forever no one thinks like you even the people who like the stuff you do don’t agree with you, you’re just alone and nothing is ever going to change with that.

It’s such a fucking mess. I’m desperate for people, and most of the ones I find are ones I simply can’t be around. This last month especially (bite me, it’s an issue) has been hell. I can’t go into fandom tags. I can barely go to friends’ blogs. The only time I feel halfway stable is when I’m alone with my own thoughts, and I enjoy my hobbies my way.

And that’s great. ...For people who can have that be enough. For me it’s just not. My feelings don’t feel real unless I share them with other people, and I feel like I’ve lost every venue I can do that in, because I’m just too much of a psychological wreck.

It sucks? I want to have fun. I like cartoons and comics. I like stories. What other people think about them shouldn’t bother me, but other people are the thing that makes me tick. I joke about disagreeing with everyone, but it’s not... wrong. And for the things I enjoy the most, those disagreements are enough to ruin the whole interaction.

So I don’t try to go anywhere new, because I have piles of evidence going over why I’m not healthy enough to risk it. Every time I slip and break that rule, it’s one more piece. Meanwhile, every time I try someone familiar and cross my fingers, I strike out badly enough that I make despondent posts instead of slitting my wrists, and yeeeah, that’s the actual train of thought that I went through before typing this.

People are just bad for me. I’m at my most stable when I’m outside, alone, in the middle of the night, playing Pokemon Go. That’s the only time I feel like I can breathe.

But ah. I’m fucking lonely?

That’s not an invitation, because like I said, people are minefields for me right now. And of the small handful I’m okay with, I’m the kind of lonely where the only thing that makes a dent is 24/7 constant communication.

For many, many reasons, that’s not feasible.

It’s good, I guess, to recognize your problems, but I don’t really have any solutions. My experiments with trying to make more friends (and if you’re reading this it is probably not about you, I don’t vague about people I have conversations with; the embarrassment alone would keep that from happening) end with me wanting to blow a hole in my head.

It’s like... okay, I’m lonely. But I keep finding communities that make me feel even more alone. It’s one thing to feel lonely when you’re isolated, but stepping outside and realizing that all of the places you thought would be a good fit are on completely the wrong wavelength?

That’s where suicide starts feeling like the only option. Being alone as a choice is easier than being alone because you don’t fit.

By at least one definition, I’m an extrovert. People give me energy. Being alone at all makes me miserable.

Look, I was dreading the third season coming out for more reasons than I will ever have the nerve to admit publicly. I’ve spent months wanting to die just from that (again, not a healthy person here).

But I thought I’d get to be part of that energy for it. As bad as I knew my head would make it, I was also aware, on some level, that there would be some really cool stuff for me to love.

Except for a lot of reasons that people can infer (and twenty more that I would rather die than provide hints to (that turn of phrase is terrible when you’re suicidal and me; all I can think whenever I type it is, “well yes, I’d rather die than most things”)), I can’t go anywhere near fandom right now.

This huge explosion of enthusiasm, and if I try to touch it, I’m going to get burned. Just because of what my head is doing to me. I’m sensitive to all the wrong things. I’m like a kid with a candy allergy on Halloween.

Sometimes I feel like the answer to all my problems is, “just Get Well.”

If I were healthy, depression would have fewer pits to hide in. If I were healthy, I would have the energy to resist the OCD. If I were healthy, I would have a life outside the internet and the things that happen here wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. If I were healthy, things would work the way they’re supposed to.

I’m not. I’m not even in a stable state of unhealthy. That’s what doctors are for. And meds. I just need to be patient, hang in there, and wait to be healthy, and then it’ll be okay, and I can enjoy a comic book without thinking about slitting my throat. Right? That sounds good. That sounds like a thing I want.

It’s also not working. Things are deteriorating, and there’s nothing anyone can do. There’s nothing terminal wrong, just a million things that won’t work, and that no one has figured out how to fix.

I can’t make friends and can’t watch a cartoon without it triggering suicidal urges. Not thoughts. Active urges.

This post isn’t intended as a downspiral of angst, it’s me being at a loss. I exercise. I spend time in sunlight. I do everything I can to not curl up under my bed all day. I take the recommended pills. I put the therapy techniques I’ve been taught into practice.

And none of it is working well enough.

I’m not going to kill myself, but in defense of myself for wanting to, it is not an insane decision, just one that makes people besides me uncomfortable. If I had something terminal, or if I were someone’s pet, euthanasia would be encouraged.

But I’m human, and unless my suicidal urges have a ticking clock counting off how long I can resist them, I’m not terminal. This is a life I have to survive.

Here’s a thing, which I don’t think anyone really likes talking about. When you’re at the point where the only thing you can hold on to is fictional, everyone rolls their eyes or says with alarm that that’s not normal. Those are the nice reactions. If you invest yourself in fiction, you’re a child, and having real emotions about fake stuff is for mockery.

...I’m gonna pause for a second. Yeah, I’m dangerously emotionally and psychologically unhealthy, but. stories are supposed to make you connect to them. That’s what they’re intended for. Overreactions exist and all, but if you’re not having an emotional response to a story, the author’s failed. The whole art of crafting a story is getting a person to care. Making fun of people for participating makes zero sense.

Like... because I’m guessing anyone who’s going to send me hate already has at this point... “ha ha, this person’s upset because the thing they enjoyed isn’t enjoyable anymore!”

How dare people want to have fun. With the thing they’re spending their free time on.

Stories are selfish. Authors and audiences are all after things they, personally, want, and the fact that people are still acting like they’re somehow above all of that is laughable. Fiction is an instrument of greed. A reader reads something because of what they want. A writer writes something because of what they want. If you’re lucky, those wants line up, but for crying out loud, creation and consumption of fiction is ludicrously selfish.

It’s inventing or looking for a world tailored to your personal desires. What part of that screams objective altruism. That is the exact opposite of the point. Everyone involved is greedy and self-indulgent. The fact that some people remember themselves well enough to have manners about it doesn’t change what it is.

...Yes, I know I’m making it obvious why I have such a problem making friends shut up.

Anyway, back to my sad melodrama.

My thing is that my life is so endlessly unbearable that even something made up can’t go right. When you’re sad enough you’re counting on a fantasy made by someone else to improve your reality, you’re already kind of screwed.

When even something that small can’t go right?

How in the hell are you supposed to think anything else will?

There’s this line in IGPX where the antagonist team is going out of their way to get into the protagonist’s head. It’s something to the effect of, “you can’t even let him win a video game?” Dude’s playing a fun little game during his off time, antagonist sweeps in and ruins it.

One candle in a dark room casts a lot of light. Even like. a birthday candle. Small, pathetic, but compared to the darkness? Night and day.

Snuff that out, and there’s really nothing. Just a whole lot of black.

My candle’s mostly occupied giving me wax burns at the moment.

In conclusion my mental health is broken I want a new one.

[kingreywrites]

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

[avengers-nextgen]

All Things Grow I

“The news is so depressing,” Nathaniel grumbled clicking off the television, “everything’s all about the bad stuff happening in the world. Uhm hello? I experience it first hand people!”

“It’s what’s engaging unfortunately,” Wanda sighed having been watching it too, “the only way to attract an audience.”

“Yeah, well it sucks.”

“You sound like my brother,” She laughed.

“He was smart.” Nathaniel remarked. “Not to mention I can hardly turn on the tv without politics showing up every five seconds. I can see the headline, ‘local senator eats out at family restaurant. Guess what he eats.’”

“Shrimp, a cup of self righteous wine, and a bunch of carbs.” Fox glanced up from her tablet. “What? I pay attention sometimes.”

“You have a habit of being really quiet and then scaring people when you talk.” Nathaniel explained.

“My bad.” Fox wasn’t apologizing at all, instead she was storing that info away to be used later. “Welp, I have work to do so have fun being depressed.”

“She’s a wray of pitch black,” Nathaniel snorted.

“We have to go.” Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder hearing Enzo’s voice from the hallway.

“What’s he carrying on about?”

“Bianca and Enzo are trying to convince the others to go to a hockey game.” Wanda explained. “I think Scout’s going. He finds it mildly interesting, and Orion looked the sport up on YouTube. He’s going in hopes there’s a fight.”

“I’m not surprised.” Nathaniel sighed. “Are there tickets for everyone?”

“I believe so.” Wanda frowned, “Piper made sure to get extras.”

“Great. Then I guess I have something less depressing to do.” Nathaniel decided. “Enzo!”

“Yeah?” The boy scampered out of the hallway dressed for the cold rink.

“I’m coming along.”

— — —

“Churros.” Thalia didn’t even care about the size of the stadium. She’d spotted the concessions right away and so had Penny.

“Mountain Dew.” Penny grinned.

“More like Mountain Dew not drink it.” Chloe frowned. “You’ll have to pee every five minutes.”

“I have perfect control over my bladder.” Penny glowered. “Right Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“That’s a really uncomfortable question.” James mumbled. “And you just...agree?”

“Hey, I’m not about to start an argument.” Arthur whispered back.

“We are not going inside yet.” Enzo stated. “We are waiting like good people.”

“For who?” Siyanda asked, holding Thalia’s hand to keep her from running off.

“My friend.” Enzo said.

“There they are.” Bianca pointed out the blonde kid in the crowd.

“He’s small.” Sage remarked, “How can he play hockey if he’s so skinny?”

“Not he,” Enzo corrected, “they, or them.”

“What-oh shit. Sorry.” Sage winced.

“Not scoring any good big sister points today are we?” Piper teased.

“Shut up.” Sage glowered. Enzo ignored their banter and waved his friend over.

“Max, this is my family.” Enzo stated. “That’s Nathaniel. Nathaniel say hi.”

“Hi,” Nathaniel smiled kindly and waved.

“That’s Piper and that’s her best friend Gen. They’re weird. That’s Siyanda and her girlfriend Thalia. She likes food so guard it. Then there’s James. He’s really cool even if he looks scary. Then there’s Fox and she’s just...honestly I don’t know. Penny is fun you’ll like her. Arthur and Chloe are twins. Bianca you’ve met.” Enzo smiled.

Max seemed to relax a bit upon seeing a familiar face and waved at her, “Heya.”

“This is Alex she’s really nice and we all love her.” Enzo teased, “and this is my sister who is Alex’s girlfriend and she’s not as scary as she looks.”

“She’s pretty scary.” Max admitted.

“Nice to know I still have that effect.” Sage smirked.

“Oh! Almost forgot.” Enzo interrupted. “That’s Scout. He’s kind of shy but he knows nearly everything about everything. Next to him is his boyfriend Orion.”

Orion waved casually trying to seem as normal as possible. With the help of Scout and Piper he’d managed to cover his green face with paint for one of the teams. He’d made sure to wear gloves and dress warmly too.

“Well it’s nice to meet everyone. Enzo talks about you guys a lot. He says you’re all really cool.” Max smiled. “Anyways, I think the game is gonna start soon so we should get our seats.”

— — —

The group took up a section of the stands sticking close together and watching the players warm up with curiosity. Max was rattling off statistics to Scout and Enzo who both listened intently.

“If there isn’t a single fight I’m going to be mad.” Sage admitted. “I want to watch some losers knock each other out.”

“For once I agree,” Fox shrugged.

“Ew. Don’t ever say that again.” Sage frowned.

“I got churros!” Thalia grinned proudly having two in each hand.

“You’re sharing,” Siyanda reminded her plucking one from the Asgardian’s grasp.

“I know. You can have the fresh ones. But only because I love you.” Thalia stated.

“Oh she can have churros but I can’t?” Penny pouted.

“We have to limit your sugar intake.” Arthur reminded her. “Or you’ll be asleep halfway through once you come down from the rush.”

“We could always leave her in the stands.” Chloe remarked dryly. James stifled a laugh.

“Okay that’s just rude.” Penny rolled her eyes.

“Hush. They’re gonna do the preshow.” Bianca bounced excitedly in her seat. Sure enough the lights dimmed and color beams danced across the ice.

“Like a kid in a candy store,” Nathaniel snorted, setting a hand on Bianca’s shoulder to still the girl.

With the display of color and the excited announcement of players taking the ice the group was completely enthralled. Each seemed to pick a favorite player right away just based off of attitude and facade.

When the game started both Sage and Fox were pleasantly surprised by how physical it was. Players were slammed with sticks, pushed into walls, and shoved about with ease. Orion seemed to be the only one aside from Thalia who could easily follow the black speck ricocheting across the ice.

James’ brain went into tactic mode as did Bianca’s. The girl was rattling off strategies to Max who nodded in agreement. Siyanda studied the keeper’s finding their reflexes very impeccable.

Nathaniel boasted that with his aim he could have scored early on but Enzo was quick to shush him as tension built into a push on the attack. The buzzer sounded and the crowd yelled excitedly.

“Can you imagine hockey with rockets on the skates?” Piper grinned evilly.

“People would die, Piper.” Gen reminded her.

“But it would be so fun to watch!”

“I’d participate in the sport.” Orion smiled. “Seems exhilarating.”

“Not the smartest idea,” Alex warned knowing very well that Piper could and would test rocket skates on Orion.

— — —

At one point a fight did erupt which ended up being almost everyone’s highlight of the game. The gloves flew off and the men went at it swinging wildly. Even the refs took a bit of a beating.

“Max, do you ever fight anyone?” Thalia asked.

“No. I do school and club hockey which both give strong penalties for it you fight,” They said.

“Bummer.” Sage sighed. “I’d have enjoyed this as a kid.”

“The women don’t really fight,” Scout stated, “they’re much more socially sophisticated about the game.”

“Thank you captain encyclopedia,” Piper teased.

“Only trying to clear the air,” Scout shrugged.

All in all the game ended in a draw which was fine since none of them had a particular team to root for. Thankfully for Thalia the end of the game meant she could finally take that bathroom break she’d been waiting ages for.

“Gotta say I’m glad I came to watch this,” Nathaniel groaned, stretching his arms happily overhead.

“How’d you get into the sport?” James asked.

“Since I was little. My uncle got me involved, he’s from Canada, and then my parents indulged it. They don’t talk to him anymore though,” Max shrugged, “but I’ve liked it for as long as I can remember.”

“Nice.” Orion grinned. “Mind giving me a big stick I can hit people with?”

“Orion, you can get a big stick outside.” Scout rolled his eyes.

“It’s not the same.” Orion argued.

“Big stick energy.” Nathaniel mumbled and Piper and Penny were goners. The two dissolved into laughter which lead to tears.

“I don’t understand,” Thalia frowned having returned from the bathroom.

“My aunt showed me as did uncle Peter. It’s a meme: Big dick energy, except they made a parody of it.” Siyanda explained.

“Big dick energy? Seriously?” Scout huffed. “There’s nothing amusing about that at all. It makes no sense.”

“Just...drop it.” Arthur sympathized. “Let’s get going shall we?”

“Sure!” Enzo nodded. “See you at School Max. You have a ride don’t you?”

“Yeah I’m good.” Max nodded. Enzo gave his friend a quick fist bump before scrambling up the steps of the stadium to follow his family.

“I say that was a success.” Nathaniel decided.

“More or less.” Chloe corrected. “Let’s not forget that joke of yours.”

“It was legendary. Don’t be so bitter about it.” Piper laughed. “Man, Nathaniel I adore you.”

“You too kiddo.” Nathaniel smiled.

“We have Bianca right?” Alex asked glancing about. “And....we lost her.”

“Oh yeah she’s in the gift shop!” Enzo smacked his forehead. “I’ll be back.”

“From now on we have to do a headcount.” Nathaniel decided. “We cant afford to lose anyone. Not my little ducks.”

“Quack.” Sage glowered.

“That’s the spirit.” Nathaniel smiled.

“Anyone want quackers?” Thalia asked. It was a stupid joke but the look of pride on her face was enough to draw laughs from everyone else. Siyanda kissed the blonde’s cheek good naturedly. “I told you I was funny Si!”