#i discovered why exactly that was the case way too late ;;

[foxy-eva]

Spencer Reid Kink Collection

Since I can't participate in Kinktober this year, I thought it would be fun to do a little Kink Masterlist for my existing fics! This post is 18+, minors DNI!

Bondage

Bound Together: Spencer has a very pleasant surprise for his girlfriend

Body Worship

Adore You: Spencer makes sure his girlfriend knows how much he loves her body

Breeding Kink

Ever Expanding: Spencer and his wife decide it’s time to expand their family

Baby Fever: Ever since they decided to try for a baby, Spencer and his wife can’t get enough of each other

Degradation/Dumbification

Temptation: His girlfriend's new skirt is too tempting for Spencer to resist

Only Yours: After getting jealous at work Spencer reminds his girlfriend who she belongs to

Facesitting

Heart on my Sleeve: Spencer is entranced by the look of his girlfriend wearing the sweater he knit as a present

Worship: Spencer knows exactly how to make it up to his girlfriend after being late for date night

Hand Kink

Stress Relief: When his coworker complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate

more fics under the cut!

Innocence Kink

Preciously Pure: Things seem to change between Spencer and Reader once she mentions her innocence

Orgasm Control / Edging

Purple Dress: Spencer and his coworker have a friends-with-benefits agreement. When he tries to end it, she shows him what he is missing out on.

Careful Whisper: It's very hard to keep quiet when Spencer visits Reader in her hotel room at night

Phone Sex

Call Me: Spencer discovers new ways to feel close to his girlfriend while working on a case

Praise Kink

Nice & Naughty: His girlfriend has been a very good girl this year which is why Spencer spoils her in every way he knows on Christmas

Public Sex

Lavender & Lace: Spencer didn’t know how much fun going shopping with his girlfriend would be

Nude Beach: Reader finally convinces Spencer to go to the beach with her. Turns out it’s a nude beach

Skinny Dipping: It doesn’t take much to convince Spencer to go skinny dipping

Sex Toys

Play Time: Spencer is curious about a very interesting toy his girlfriend ordered

Somnophilia

(Don't) Wake Me: When Spencer learns that he shares a kink with his girlfriend, he finds a special way to wake her

Wake-Up Call: Reader can’t resist Spencer even when he’s asleep

Threesome

Lucky Number: When Spencer and his girlfriend run into Elle years after she left the FBI, they quickly realize that there's an undeniable tension between them that begs to be released

Find my General Masterlist here

Find my Dom!Spencer Masterlist here

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can I request tea about things that have happened in the mansion?

Click here for part 5 which has links to the other parts

Toby is emotionally attached to one specific spoon. It's the perfect weight, size, and length in his opinion, and he will always insist on using that spoon, sometimes even going so far as to wash it by hand just to use it if it's dirty. Everyone knows this, however, one day Tim was up pretty late and wanted some ice cream, and he used the spoon to scoop some out, bending the spoon. He didn't realize it was Toby's spoon until it was too late, and he tried to bend it back exactly as it was, however, Toby knew. Toby knew something was wrong with the spoon and actually ended up bending it a specific way himself to make it feel right again. Tim is too scared to tell Toby it was him because he was genuinely distraught when his spoon was different.

Smile, the lovely dog, is on a specific diet. Jeff takes good care of him and tries to keep him on a diet made specifically for hellhounds so that he's getting all the proper nutrients he needs. Smile, however, wants people's food, even though he knows he shouldn't have it. Some of the residents are weak. Natalie began sneaking Smile people food whenever they were alone together, and now that Smile has finally eaten it, he will not stop begging for food, much to Jeff's chagrin. Natalie will not admit to it, but she also struggled to stop feeding him since it made Smile so happy. Now Jeff has to deal with his large, talking hellhound yelling for people's food at dinner, and Natalie has to avoid Smile like the plague lest she deal with the same.

BEN is a big fan of Legos. He has completed a bunch of sets and treasures them all, including his precious Millennium Falcon, one of the largest sets he's completed, that took him so long to complete. He always asks people not to touch them, but as you can guess, that didn't happen. Toby has also developed a fascination with Legos, and one day when BEN was out, he decided to look at all of the ones BEN had built. He had picked up the Falcon and was moving it through the air as though it was flying, before tripping and dropping it, slamming it into the ground and breaking it apart. Of course, he felt so bad he told BEN immediately when he got home, sobbing and apologizing, and despite how upset he was BEN forgave him, but he did make Toby rebuild the whole thing himself so that he could understand why BEN was so protective over them and wanted them to be safe.

Slender rarely loses his cool over things, but there was one time the creeps will probably never forget. Slender is a collector of finer things, and one of those things is a very expensive set of plates passed down to him from his mother, which are very beautiful, and also very fragile. Slender does not like when things like this are messed with, so they try their best to avoid them, but accidents of course always happen. The boys were roughhousing one day, and Jeff accidentally slammed into Liu's side a little too hard, causing both of them to slip and slam into the case the plates are kept in, causing several of them to fall into the case and break. Upon discovering this Slender was incredibly angry, all but screaming at them as he lectured them on safety and respect in the mansion, although he did later apologize for how harsh he was. Jeff and Liu especially haven't roughhoused downstairs since, and neither has anyone else unless they're in a wide space away from anything special. Slender was able to get a couple of the plates pretty perfectly restored, but a few were lost, and he's still very bummed about it.

[yanderecrazysie]

MY BABY! MY LOVE! THE REASON I WAKE UP( besides the crushing pile of self doubt and depression) FEED ME SOME YANDERE CHEATER ANGST!!!

This was so sweet but I hope your self-doubt and depression get better!!!! I know how that feels and it’s something I hope no one else has to feel!

Ngl I couldn’t stop thinking about this one shot I read about Cheater Jean Kirstein a long time ago and I was like “I can’t not write Tanaka.”

I don’t think Tanaka would be likely to cheat on the reader but, if Kyoko was involved, it’d be difficult for him to say no.

Title: Belated

Pairings: Cheater! Tanaka x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, infidelity, Tanaka has a lot of bad excuses

Summary: The grass is always greener on the other side. Tanaka's discovered that too late.

belated

/adjective/

coming or happening later than should have been the case.

You only really start to appreciate someone when they’re gone.

Tanaka found this out the hard way.

You were a loving girlfriend, celebrating every anniversary like it was the happiest day of your life, always making time for him, and doing your best to put him first. You made him feel like the king of the world and the luckiest man alive.

You did nothing wrong, nothing to “drive him to cheat” or anything like that. No, you were perfect.

It was Tanaka who was flawed.

As much as he loved you, there was another woman who plagued his mind with her beauty. He didn’t exactly “settle” with you, but there was always the temptation, if only Kyoko were to turn her attention his way…

And the moment she decided to, he was too weak to say “no”. Too eager to deny the temptation he was faced with.

The grass is always greener on the other side. Maybe that’s why Tanaka suddenly longed to be with Kyoko and not you. He was a curious man and…

That’s really no excuse, is it?

It wasn’t a good excuse when he heartlessly broke up with you, shamelessly declaring his love for Kyoko as you stared at him, broken-hearted and shell-shocked.

It wasn’t a good excuse when he started to miss you. Started to realize that Kyoko was stringing him along for her own amusement. Started to realize that she couldn’t hold a candle to you.

It wasn’t a good excuse now, as you stood, peeking through the crack in your apartment door, blankly listening to all he has to say, now that he’s learned the grass isn’t greener.

And then he sees him. Tanaka wants to believe that he’s a family member he hasn’t met yet or a friend, but he knows that isn’t the case.

The world seems to spin when that man puts an arm around your waist, asking if “this guy” is bothering you. He swears he can hear his heart breaking when you giggle in response.

Is four months really enough time to move on?

You sure seem to think so.

Tanaka can’t bring himself to ruin your happiness, so he watches from the sidelines. Stalks you like his life depends on it. And maybe it does.

He watches as your relationship grows more serious. As months turn to years. As he proposes and you happily accept. As you both get married. As you have your first child.

You’ve never once noticed him watching from the shadows. He’s sure that’s his punishment- to watch but never touch.

You’re happier now, he thinks. Those same things you did for him, you do with your new partner. And more.

He’ll watch you until the day he dies, hoping, wanting, and punishing himself for ruining what he once had.

Desperately wishing he hadn’t been too late.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part V)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, friendship comes and goes, discussions of anxiety, discussions of virginity, discussions of sex shaming, frottage (PUSSYJOB), everyone’s very vulnerable.

Word count | ~11,800

A/N | Oooh, mama. It’s been a while. I hope most of the people who like this fic are still around.

Taglist

Previous Chapter

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You like calling Eddie, the sound of his voice over the phone. The way he answers it differently each time:

“This is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin; available for christenings, bar mitzvahs and weddings.”

“Munson residence. The old guy’s out so if you’re looking to buy a collection of novelty mugs now’s the time.”

“You’ve reached the church of Satan; Abaddon the Destroyer speaking. For your free introductory handbook on summoning circles just dial six-six-six.”

And then there’s the happy rise in his tone when he hears it’s you on the other side, the surprised laugh at the sound of your soft hi, Eddie even when he’d asked you to call. The crackle of his breath through the receiver, the way conversations with him are easy however they happen. With anyone else, phone calls feel stilted and awkward, but Eddie talks as if you’re sitting right in front of him. 

It makes you warm all over to think about. Eddie wants to see you and kiss you and touch you, but he’s also happy to sit on his couch miles away and speak to you, listen in return to everything you can bring yourself to say.

You have taken to dragging a chair from the kitchen and sitting by the hallway table to talk to him like this whenever you don’t see him in the evening. You spend an hour or two at a time smiling at your mom’s address book, twirling the coiled cord of the phone around your finger while Eddie talks about this day, asks about yours, explains why he’s really into this new Swedish black metal band he’s discovered, checks what you’re reading, shares an idea he has for Hellfire, plans your next date.

Today is no exception. Your dad has walked past muttering about the phone bill twice. Your mom, as usual, has stationed herself in the kitchen within earshot, but what exactly she gets out of hearing the low buzz of Eddie’s voice and your laughter, you don’t know.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come, sweet girl?" 

"Yeah, I-" You hesitate, playing with a rose petal from the bowl of potpourri that sits by the phone. "I think I should stay here. Just in case." 

In truth, you don't have much hope that May will call, but imagining that she does and you aren’t here to receive it fills you with worry. The last thing you want is to make things any worse between you after you messed up so badly. 

It’s not unusual for you to feel this type of regret. When overthinking something delays your actions until it’s too late. You worried so much about how to tell May about Eddie that you left it too long. You should have told her the day you kissed him, should have phoned when you got back from your first date. Instead, you spent your time imagining the conversation, and let your best friend find out something important through somebody else. 

You hurt her. She is wounded enough that she really has given up defending you. When Caroline remarks on your silence now, May doesn't attempt to fill the emptiness your lumping throat leaves. 

"She's just shy," May used to say, waving her hand. Her embarrassment over your stumbled words and fidgeting hands was clear, then, but you knew she felt for you, even if she didn't understand why she had to. Now she just looks at you expectedly like everyone else, pulls awkward, embarrassed faces when you stumble and fidget through a non-answer.

You had taken to spending more of your lunches helping Heather with her new responsibilities as class president, sitting quietly at debate club and nodding along to her speeches, taking the role of a small country at her model UN meetings. But you are starting to feel her frustration with you, too. 

“You don’t have to come to every meeting if you don’t enjoy it.” She said to you after the last UN encounter you’d sat through without uttering a word.

“It’s just, I don’t really know much about Anguilla. But I like hearing you speak.”

Heather smiled with her lips closed. “That’s not what it’s for, though. I think maybe you’d prefer having lunch with May and the cheerleading girls again.”

You felt your cheeks burning, pulled the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands and fiddled with the woollen edges. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Sometimes you think about sitting at Eddie’s table instead. To have another hour of him every day. The picture is nice on its own. Talking to him, to Jeff, even the freshmen Eddie has adopted since the beginning of the year. But then the image zooms out; you at the Hellfire table, May with the cheerleaders, Heather at her clubs, and your chest aches. You don’t know when it happened, when you had to start holding on this tight, digging your nails into them. You only know you’ll leave claw marks on your friendship before you let it go easy.

And while you can never get enough Eddie, you aren’t normally deprived of him outside of the school walls. With anyone else, you might have worried about suffocating him, being clingy. But Eddie makes it clear at every turn how much he wants to be around you. His grin in the mornings when you climb into his van. The way he leans into your space, hair tickling your cheeks, and asks all soft and earnest if you want to go home with him. Some days, he invites you into the trailer to touch and taste you. Others, to sit on his couch or his bed and talk. Or to just spend hours just breathing the same air as him, listening to him scribble in his D&D notebook or strum at his guitar while you read or do your homework. 

But you won't see him tonight. Eddie is going to see Fright Night with most of the boys in his club, and it's all he's talked about the past week. He'd asked you to come, all wide brown eyes and dimples, and your stomach had twisted. 

"Normally May and I do something around this time each month." You hadn't been able to look him in the eye when you said it, fiddling with his hands instead. You'd rubbed the softness of your thumb over the callused pads of his fingers, knowing he had that look he'd been getting whenever you found yourself bringing your friend up. A little sad, guilt he shouldn't be feeling. Irritation, at you or at her you're not brave enough to ask. 

"You sure?" He asks over the phone now. "It'd be pretty easy for me to pick you up. I'm giving Wheeler a ride. He's just down the street from your place." 

You feel a wave of fondness for him, for the lie he’s just told. He isn’t aware that you know exactly where Mike Wheeler lives. You’ve babysat Holly since you were sixteen, and the route to her home takes half an hour in your dad's car. 

"I'm sure," you say, trying to sound firm. "But I hope you like the movie."

"If it's good, maybe we can see it together another time." 

"You wouldn't mind going twice?" 

"I'd watch the same movie twenty times in a row if you promised to come to the last one." He laughs, sounding enough like he means it that your smile hurts your cheeks. 

"That might be a touch excessive," you murmur. "Twice sounds like enough."

"How about tomorrow? We could get dinner first, make a real date out of it." 

Your face heats up like the first time Eddie asked you out. You touch your toe to your ankle, winding the cord of the phone tight around your finger. You whisper. "Okay."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." You press your knees together. "That sounds nice."

"Unless the movie's shit, then we'll have to call the whole thing off." You laugh down the phone, imagining the tease in Eddie’s smile. "I'll have a review for you by tomorrow, sweet thing."

"Okay, Eddie."

"And I'm not leaving for another ten minutes. If you change your mind, just call, okay?"

"Okay, Eddie," you repeat. "Have a nice time."

"See you soon, beautiful." 

Your toes curl. "See you soon." 

When he's gone and the phone is back in its holder, you have to sit tense and still for a second to avoid making some kind of happy squeal, settling for curling your fingers into your skirt and tapping your heels wildly against the floor. 

You still feel a little dizzy with the thought of him when you pull the chair back into the kitchen, enough that you jump when your mom speaks. "That Eddie on the phone?" 

You fix her with a look, because she knows exactly who you were talking to, and she gives you a mock innocent smile that shifts into a real one. 

“You were laughing a lot.”

Her hands drip soapy water from the kitchen sink, finishing up the dishes that would have been done ten minutes ago if she hadn't dragged it out for an excuse to stay where she could hear you. You chew the inside of your lip while you take the next freshly cleaned plate from her. Grabbing a dry dish cloth to drag across the ceramic, you shrug one shoulder. 

“He’s funny.”

“And you like that about him?”

“Mom.”

“Just a question!” She says, holding her hands up, before grabbing the dish towel from you to wipe her wet hands. “You talk more, when it’s him on the phone. Did you know that?”

“You listen to all my conversations?”

“I’m your mother,” she laughs, bumping your hip with hers. “And I’ve never heard you so chatty.” You give her another look and she reconsiders. "Chatty for you. There's been times I've rounded that corner surprised you were even on the phone, you're so quiet. I mean, with that last boy-” She hums a disapproving tone, reaches out to fix the collar of your cardigan. "I swear you'd sit there and not say anything at all."

“It's easier to talk to Eddie,” you admit, thinking about how pleased he looks when you ramble about what you're reading, the last kid you babysat, even the new eyeshadow palette you’d saved up for and felt a touch immature being so excited about. All his encouraging nods, all the questions and affirmations afterwards. "He's…" 

He’s a million good things. Too many to name, too many to put in order. You glance at her to the side, raising one shoulder. 

"I like him," she declares. "I think he's good for you." 

Your face is hot and uncomfortable, but it still feels nice to agree. "I think so, too." 

When the dishes are away and your mom is settled on the couch with your dad watching Quincy reruns, you walk slowly upstairs, hoping that the phone will ring again before your door closes. 

You make a bet with yourself in your head. If it rings before I get to my room, it’ll be May. It’ll be May and she’ll want to be friends again and everything will be alright. You reach the top, spy the door the end of the hall. Any time after, it’ll be somebody else; a sales call, a chatty relative. 

All you hear as you pad across the landing is your parents laughing at the TV. 

With your door closed, your heart sore, you glance at your desk on the other side of the room, the cork pin board behind it decorated with memories. There is your first concert ticket, next to a postcard from the first time you left this country by plane. An askew origami frog that a boy you used to babysit made for you. A pom-pom that detached from the winter hat you wore from October to March three years running in middle school. 

There is Heather. One photo as she is now, smiling at you over a yellow smoothie. Another couple from your first years together, at the edge of womanhood. Her in braces and her mother's lipstick, the aquamarine taffeta dress she wore to your first high school prom. 

And there is May. She is everywhere, over and over again, in all the stages of her life since you met. She is in pigtails, her small hand in yours, her gap toothed grin next to your close lipped smile. She is in this room, with sparkling eyelids, the earliest and most keen model for your interest. She is at the Spring fair of 1979, holding cotton candy you'd shared soon after the photo was taken. She is at that first concert, decked out in Wham! merchandise. Swim meets and cheer competitions. A line of photo booth strips. You are there with her; both giggling, eyes crossed and tongues rolled. 

May has been a constant in your life, but now your life has shifted. Maybe you have to accept that she doesn’t want to shift with it. 

The phone rings downstairs. 

You hear your dad huff, the sound of your mom rising from the couch and heading through the hall. You hold your breath, listen to the buzz of her landline specific voice, all breezy politeness. Then she calls your name.

You practically throw yourself down the stairs, slipping at the last couple in your socks. You have to hold yourself back from grabbing the phone from her. Taking just a second to glance over your shoulder to check that she's actually walking away, you whisper into the phone. “Hello?”

"Where are you? I rented Footloose." Tears prick in your eyes at the sound of May’s voice. You look up to the ceiling, silent for too long. “You still there?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Where are you?” She repeats. “Second Friday of the month. It’s movie night.”

“I didn’t-” You swallow, blinking tears away as they rise and trying not to sniffle. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

"Of course I want to see you,” she answers. “You're my best friend."

You feel your bottom lip shaking, can’t fight the sniffles this time. You drag the sleeve of your cardigan across your eyes, voice cracking when you speak next. "You really mean it, May?"

"I’m inviting you round, aren’t I?” She says, sharp tone softened by a sigh crackling in your ear through the receiver. “Of course I mean it.” You hum a high sound, a stifled sob of relief, eyes squeezed shut. “Now, come watch Kevin Bacon shake his ass with me." 

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You are warm under the silken soft quilt pulled from May’s bed. Your stomach is heavy with buttered popcorn and gummy worms. Your skin is soft from the homemade face masks you made in her kitchen, singing along to Cyndi Lauper and listening to May read the recipe aloud from the newest YM magazine dropped on her doorstep just this morning.

Stirring oatmeal and yoghurt together like a potion, you felt a pang of nostalgia. For a second, you were seven years old, standing with May over a muddy puddle, your makeshift cauldron brimming with gathered leaves, stones, and red berries. You’d mix it up with long, gnarled twigs and cackle together like the witches. The mucky water wasn’t just mud, then. It was poison, it was love potion. It was magic, made together. 

Today, at eighteen, you glanced up at May’s concentrated face while she attempted to separate egg whites from yolks, and let yourself be soothed by the thought that maybe some things are still as they were. 

Footloose was abandoned after Kevin Bacon finished throwing himself rhythmically around an empty warehouse, May’s interest in it vanishing swiftly after that. You found yourself on the couch talking while the film played on in the background until the popcorn was finished and the oats could be washed from your face. 

Then May led you up to her room, almost as familiar to you as your own. 

The cream lambskin rug, still matted and stained in one corner from that time you’d spilt nail polish over it. Terrified you might not be allowed to come over anymore, May told her mom it was her, and she was grounded for a week. 

You bought her those fairy lights, the ones that hang above her bed. Last year, you wrapped them in pink tissue paper, felt the satisfying swell of a present well chosen when she’d hugged you tight with the box still in her hand. 

May has her own cork board. Amongst plastic medals and concert tickets, there is you at that fair, you and Heather at prom, the second strip from the photo booth. 

“And it’s like, when was it decided that we had to pick our whole future at eighteen, anyway?” May asks, eyebrows twitching like she wants to furrow them. She fights through it, keeping them high on her forehead to let you smooth powder over her lids. “Here I am, barely out of the cradle!” You snort, and her mouth tilts a touch. “Feels like I started walking last week, and now it’s all, what do you mean you don’t have a clue what you want to do with your life? It just feels crazy to me.”

“It is.” You shift forward on the soft shag carpet, your knees bumping hers under the throw keeping your legs warm. 

“Right? I mean, you know that your brain doesn’t even really mature until you’re, like, twenty-five? So I am close enough to a child that I really shouldn’t have this responsibility.”

Humming in agreement, you rub your thumb at the corner of her eye, smudging the edge of the lilac eyeshadow there. 

“At least I have an idea where I’m going. Indiana State, here I come. You’re still applying for NYU, right?”

“Mm. Maybe,”

“Oh, come on, you have to apply at least!” She insists, eyelids twitching. “It’s the place to be, for your poetry, right?”

You hum. “I might still do Chemistry.”

“Chemis- absolutely not!” Her eyes fly open, and you make a noise of protest.

“I’m not done!”

“You are not doing Chemistry.” May says, a comic picture with one eye bordered by soft pastel tones, the other bare of colour, while she looks at you sternly. “You don’t enjoy it!”

“But I could get a job at the end,” you reason. 

May snorts, eyes closing gently, chin peaking out to let you get back into it as though she’s already won the argument. “Job schmob,” she says. “When you’re in New York, you can find a rich man to worry about that.” You frown, and like she senses it, the eye you’re not working on opens again. “Or find a rich man for me. He has to be really rolling in it though, so he can look after us both.”

You hear Eddie’s voice in your ear like he’s in the room with you. Just wait, I’ll look after you. 

“Think you can do that?” May asks. “Keep an eye out for me, when you’re making all your arty, interesting friends in New York?”

You swallow, tuning back into the conversation. “I don’t think really want me to find you a man.”

“Mmph. The way my love life is going, I’ll need whatever help I can get.” She moves a little then, a slight tilt of her head that would be imperceptible to anyone but you, who's seen every degree of emotion on May’s face. You know she’s going to drop something serious before she even opens her mouth. “I saw Liam last week.”

You fight through the temptation to stop blending the eyeshadow on her lids, keeping your tone as even as possible. “Oh?”

“When I was in Indianapolis with the girls?” Those trips with the cheerleaders you avoid desperately. The thought of being stuck in a car with Caroline on the way there and back can make you break out in a cold sweat. “He was at one of the bars. He apologised, said he wanted to maybe go out again.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything-”

“That was your judgy mmmh,” she says, batting your hand away from her face to look at you straight. “Last time I heard it was when I showed you that top I bought last month.”

Despite yourself, you crack at the memory of the flouncy pink thing she’d shown you with an awkward, self-aware smile. You’d been working out how to gently tell her to burn it when she’d figured out the tone of your hum and thrown it off in front of you with a whispered, “what was I thinking?” 

Now, your tilted lips turn down at May’s solemn expression, her eyes shiny. 

You shuffle closer, tucking the blanket around the both of you gently, cocooning your legs in together. “He hurt you, last time. Used you.” 

She chews her lip. “That’s what boys do.”

“May-”

“I know you think what happened with Andy was bad, but you’ll learn, that’s just how they are. They need a little more forgiveness than girls, and some of them are worth it.”

You feel the beginning of the argument she might not be quite past. “Andy didn’t really like me, May. He only wanted-”

“The same thing they all want. The only thing they all want.”

Your heart aches for her. “That’s not true.”

“You think it’s not true right now, but when you hold out on Munson the way you did with Andy, you’ll see that it is.”

You fiddle with your fingers then, wondering if you should tell her. The guilt of not sharing that you’d started seeing Eddie prickles along the back of your neck. Your knee starts to bounce, and May blinks at you, just as attune to the meaning of your expressions. “Well, with Eddie-”

“Please, please, tell me you haven’t fucked Eddie Munson.”

“No. I mean, not yet but,” you begin, fiddling with your skirt. “Like, we’ve done, y’know, other stuff.” You glance at her shocked face, worry rising. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Why would I tell anyone something that would literally ruin what’s little is left of your reputation? You wouldn’t let Andy do anything but you’ve been seeing the freak for a few weeks and you’re, what, sitting in his dirty van giving him hand jobs?”

“Oh my god, May!”

“What? What am I supposed to think?”

You shake your head, tense your hands in your clothes. “It’s not like that with Eddie.” Your mind is awash with shiny brown eyes, soft pink cheeks, Eddie’s voice tickling your neck. “I don’t worry about anything, with him. It’s fun.”

“It’s fun.”

“It’s like, I thought sex was something a boy would do to me, something I’d have to let him do. With Andy, it was like if he took me on dates, it was what he would get in return,” you say, fiddling with the blanket. “But with Eddie it’s like,” you hum, hating how awkward this all sounds, so unused to talking about sex yourself, so used to hearing it from other, experienced, confident people. “We go on dates together, and talk together. And then with the, y’know, sexual stuff, we’re doing it…together.”

“But not really doing it, right?”

“No. But my point is,” you continue, grabbing her hand, clasping it in both of yours. “I know I don’t really know anything about boys, and I know you’re not Eddie’s biggest fan. But even though it’s not been long, I think he’s proof that, maybe, sometimes, boys aren’t what either of us thought. And if you really like Liam, then maybe he deserves your forgiveness. But I really, really don’t think he does if he hasn’t made you think twice about what all boys want. And maybe if you found somebody like Eddie-” She makes a face, but you ignore it. “I mean, somebody who doesn’t ask you to forgive them all the time. I think that would be better.”

“Well, I can tell you right now, I don’t want an Eddie.” You press your lips together, listen to her sigh. “But you’re also…probably, maybe right about Liam.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, May. I mean, to apologise when you happened to be at the same bar! If he was really sorry, he should have come to see you with flowers and everything. He probably just saw you, all pretty, and realised what a dunce he’d been.”

She smiles a little at the vitriol in your voice, usually so soft and quiet. “I missed you.”

You almost flinch. “I’ve been here.”

“You stopped sitting with me at lunch.” 

“I…” You close your mouth, shrug instead. 

“I know it’s partly my fault. I was angry, so I stopped defending you. But then, I mean, you just gave up.” 

“I just- Some of the cheer girls are so intimidating, I never know what to say to them.”

“But you don’t try.” Your heart is sore, the guilt of knowing you’ve made life a little more difficult for her. “Listen, if you want to date Eddie Munson, I can be okay with that. I am okay with that.” She nods, seemingly trying to convince herself. “But will you just try, a little more, with the cheer girls? You don’t have to defend your relationship all the time, but maybe just try talking to them about something else? You could come on our next trip!” 

Your toes curl at the thought. “I don’t know.” 

“Please? We can’t let a boy come between us.” You wonder what she’d say if she knew how hard Eddie seems to try not to come between you. “I like Heather, even though she abandoned us. And I like the cheer girls. But I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you, May. It won’t change.”

“So you’ll try?”

You chew the inside of your lip, give her a little nod that has her breaking out into a smile. “Okay. Okay, great.”

You try not to think about exactly what you’ve just compromised on while you finish her make up. May sits, silent and smiling while you sweep dark eyeliner across her lids, brush mascara over her long lashes.

“There, all done.” You love this bit. May turns to the floor length mirror beside you and grins at her reflection, her pretty eyes bordered by soft pastels from your new palette. It sends a warmth through you that you’d never admit to. Knowing you’re good at this, that even the cheer girls who think you’re weird admire the way you’ll do their make up at competitions. “It’s cool, right?”

“I love it,” she breathes, shifting closer to the mirror enough that the warm throw pulls from the tops of your legs, leaving your thighs chilly. “Just one last question. You’re not gonna play that Satanist game, right?”

Your brain short circuits, having thought you’d just agreed that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself. “Um, It’s really not what you think.” 

The scene plays out in your mind. Eddie, his lips on yours, your hands tangled in his hair, letting you tilt your hips to rub yourself over his thigh, suddenly pulled away from you with a gasp. He’d thrown himself from the bed dramatically, holding his open jeans up by the waistband. You’d watched him, breathless and warm, while he scrambled for a pen before writing in his D&D notebook and looking up at you in excitement. “I just thought of a really cool way to lure them into this whole cave thing I’ve been planning. Shit. They’re so fucked.” Before you could consider being offended that that’s what he’d been thinking about while kissing you, your legs were over his shoulders, his lips were smiling at your thigh. 

You can’t help your fond laugh. “Eddie’s such a dork about it. Last week-” You pause at her expression, realising that May probably doesn’t want to hear that story. You clear your throat. “They just pretend to be fantasy characters.” Witches over a cauldron, Princesses sharing a Kingdom. “Like we used to do, sorta.”

“Yeah, when we were kids.”

You have to swallow the lump that brings up to your throat. To hear her dismissal of the time you’ve been daydreaming about since you walked through her front door. “It’s not Satanist.”

“But you’re still not going to play it, right?”

“No,” you say, feeling cold. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it, anyway.”

She watches you for a second, but says nothing before grabbing the eyeshadow palette from the floor beside you. “Let me try, then. Get you all glammed up for making s’mores later.”

You smile with closed lips, let your eyes fall shut. You have to ignore the pang in your heart, the reminder that some things are entirely different from when you were seven. 

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“You know, I kinda thought there’d be more trembling.” Eddie’s breath tickles your ear as he whispers, again when he blows cool air on your neck just to see you wriggle a little while you look up at him, wide eyed. His pale face is illuminated only by the screen at the front of the room, but you can still see the mischief in his eyes, in the barely there turn of his smile. “I was told that taking a pretty girl to a scary movie would have you grabbing my thigh in pure terror. That you’d need me to comfort you with my masculinity.” 

You just about fight off the laugh, still glad that you are sequestered together in the back row when a soft amused noise escapes your throat. On screen, the newly transformed and aptly named Evil Ed laughs maniacally. The special effects and practical make up are impressive, but the whole thing has enough of a teen movie vibe that you’ve been about as scared as you were watching Kevin Bacon stuck on a tractor yesterday. 

“You and your masculinity should have picked a scarier movie.” You feel the flutter of nerves that accompanies teasing Eddie back, still always a little worried that it will come out wrong. The answer of Eddie stifling his laughter, eyes crinkling at the sides, has the butterflies scattering. 

“Noted,” Eddie whispers, cheeks dimpled. It strikes you how close he is now, his breath spreading over your cheeks. He leans down more, his nose at your temple, his lips pressing soft to the skin beside your eye. You shut both, breath shaking as Eddie’s mouth leaves a handful of kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. There, he feels you twitch, and his eyes open to find you tense in your seat, fingers curled in your sleeves. 

You are fighting the urge to turn and check the rest of the row, the whole room, to make sure nobody is watching. The image of an attendant appearing with a flashlight taunts you, the thought of being escorted out of the theatre in shame. You open your mouth, trying to work out what to say, but Eddie just smiles at you. His hand finds yours, fingers tangling together in a gentle squeeze. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, licking his lips quickly. “M’sorry, baby.” 

You watch him lean back in his seat, face set in contentment to be sitting with you and feeling your palm against his. You’d been worried for a second there, that he might be angry with you, or that you might have to explain your worries until he understood. But it’s Eddie. 

You stare at his profile, the soft curls the brush his face, his pouty lips, and find you really, really want to kiss him, here and now. Eddie’s your boyfriend, you remind yourself with a shiver of happiness. Teenage girls have been kissing their boyfriends in the backs of movie theatres since the projector was invented, so why, why, shouldn’t you kiss yours?

You rub at the sleeve of your cardigan with your free hand, letting yourself have the comfort of looking around you quickly to make sure there really isn’t anyone else in this row, or even the one in front. With your eyes closed tight, you remind yourself that the boy who ripped your tickets looked about fifteen, not quite dedicated enough to this job to search the rows looking for kissing teenagers with an invasive flashlight. 

Pressing your knees together, you cuddle into Eddie’s side, smell his two-in-one shampoo and his aftershave and his skin. You press a kiss to his cheek, feel a little scratch of early stubble against your lips. His head turns, eyes scanning over your face. “We don’t have to, sweet thing.”

“I know.” You nod, tilting your chin up in petition. “Please?”

Eddie watches you for a second, giving you time to back out before he leans down to press his lips to yours. It’s a chaste thing; so quick that he has your mouth following him when he pulls away to make sure you’re still happy to kiss him here. Eddie breathes a soft laugh that has your stomach twisting, then his hand is covering your cheek. You feel his breath, your eyes close, and he’s kissing you. 

Eddie’s mouth is warm, but it tastes like blue raspberry slushy; sweet and sharp. At the first lick of his tongue against your lips, you feel a soft noise wanting to escape your throat, but it’s beaten back swiftly by the remaining fear that has your heart racing even as Eddie’s thumb smooths a gentle caress over your cheek. Underneath that is a new giddiness. The feeling that you’ve pushed past something, overcome a fear, however small. And to be doing this, making out with your boyfriend at the back of a movie theatre, like other girls have done.

Your arms find his shoulders, hands clasped together behind him, and Eddie smiles to your lips, just barely pulls away. His thumb stretches to rub your swollen bottom lip. “My brave girl.”

You shiver when he kisses you again, your toes curling in your sneakers. You think you could live on Eddie’s praise. Every pretty girl, smart girl, good girl he gives feels like it’s designed to leave you wanting to crawl onto his thighs, or else sit between them. Eddie’s mouth, intent on yours, wet enough that it feels like the start of something he definitely won’t finish in the back row of screen three, has you remembering how free he can be with his praise when your mouth is on him.

You weren’t expecting to like it so much, but thinking about the weight and taste of him in your mouth makes you squirm as much as the thought of his own tongue where you are most sensitive. You’ve enjoyed it every time since the first moment you spent looking up at him from between his thighs. Watching Eddie fight to keep his eyes on you, mess his own hair up when he forces himself not to take yours in his fist and push you down. His voice, desperate and breathy, coaxing you to try and take him just a little deeper, sweet thing. The quick hot flash of degradation when he taps his cock against your cheek or your tongue before pressing inside.

There is even something pleasant about the lasting ache in your jaw afterwards. The feeling that you’re willing and wanting to do something that hurts to make Eddie feel good is a sick satisfaction you're not yet used to.  

Cinema speakers fill the room with a swelling, dramatic soundtrack. A girl screams, a monster cries out in pain, no doubt making everyone else in the room jump in terror and shake with anticipation for how the whole thing will end. You can hear it, but only just, so firmly in the world of Eddie-Eddie-Eddie. 

Eddie has the beats of the movie memorised already, pulling away from you with a soft gasp just as the opening notes of the music over the end credits begin, a little line of spit connecting your lips until Eddie makes one last move to lick it away. 

The lights come up seconds later, the first groups of people standing to leave. They walk past you and Eddie, both breathless and dishevelled, without a second glance. Under the new lighting, Eddie’s cheeks are now clearly pink. It warms you from the inside out to know that you did that.

You feel the need to be close to Eddie as you leave, grasping onto his hand with both of yours when your jackets are on and he’s guiding you from the theatre. “How’d you like the movie?” He asks in the parking lot, dimples deep in his cheeks.

You hide your face in his arm, feeling that strange new embarrassment crawling up your spine. You mumble into the leather of his sleeve. “I hope nobody asks me how it ends.”

“Yeah, hadn’t thought about that.” Eddie opens the door to his van, holding your hand to help you up until you’re settled in the front seat. He leans in through the door with wide eyes. “Hey, maybe we could see it again next weekend?” 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Would I really see the end if we did?” 

His head falls forward, hair following in a wave. When his head tilts back up, one of his eyes is closed. “You figured me out that easy, huh?”

You smile at each other, Eddie looking over your face as you look over his. His big eyes, dark eyelashes, light freckles, sweet nose, plush pink lips. You’ve never seen another boy you could so comfortably describe as pretty.

You think he might walk round to his side, but instead you feel Eddie’s palm, warm at your knee. “So, uh, the thing is,” he rubs a circle with his thumb at the bottom of your thigh. “It’s Wayne’s day off, and most likely if we go to my place he’ll be in the living room watching MacGyver.”

“Oh.”

You feel guilty for being disappointed. Wayne is always polite, never breathes a word of complaint at the fact you seem to be in his home most days. The only inkling of irritation you get is never at you or Eddie. Instead, there is something in the way he drags himself from the trailer every evening, ready to stay up all night at the factory. When you’d asked where he slept, realising that the only bedroom in the trailer was the one decked out with posters and amps, Eddie had shown you the fold out bed in the living room with a close lipped smile. 

He is, more than anyone, due a day off. But you were gearing yourself up for being in Eddie’s bed tonight, trying to prepare the least awkward way of asking him. 

“And I’m happy to just hang out with you, sweet thing, you know that.” His hand squeezes, even the metal of his rings warm from his skin. “So we can go back to mine and watch MacGyver with the old man, or I could try to teach you some guitar again?” 

That’s tempting, certainly. You doubt sitting between Eddie’s legs with his arms around you, guiding your hands over his acoustic guitar was the most effective teaching method, but you certainly preferred it to any alternative. 

“But if you wanted,” Eddie continues. “Only if you wanted, I could maybe drive us to the quarry or something?” Eddie blinks, tucks some of his hair behind his ear with his free hand. “It’s, uh, quiet.”

Your heart beats a little faster, you can hear the sudden rush of it in your ears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks, in that sweet way of his, wanting to make sure you’re not just acquiescing to everything he suggests. 

“Sounds good, I mean.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Belt on, sweet thing.” He gives your knee one last squeeze while you pull the belt over your front, then pushes away from the frame of the door. He taps a quick rhythm under the window when it’s closed, grins at you through the glass. You watch him jog round to the other side, hair flying out behind him, and wonder if every single thing he does will make you want him more. 

You sit in companionable silence while Eddie drives, feeling that soft comfort you only get with a few people, knowing that he’s not waiting for you to speak. You look out the window, watch the shops and gas stations disperse into houses which in turn give way to trees. All of them appear more as streaks of colour than clear pictures with the way Eddie drives, like he’s being judged on time. 

“Hey, can I play you something?” 

You turn from the window, taking a second to fully register the question before you hum a positive noise. Eddie’s right hand reaches out to turn on the stereo, the sudden attack to your ears of wailing guitar making you jump until he turns it down all the way with a sheepish smile, a murmured, “sorry.”

You watch Eddie’s hand, pale and lithe, as he skips through tracks. The metal chain that adorns his wrist is twisted a little at the leather clasp, and you reach to straighten it out with your thumb and first finger. When he’s found the right track, he turns it back up a touch, wiggles his fingers until you grab his hand. An urgent rhythm fills the van, the tell-tale guitars of all Eddie’s music, and he sighs, leaning back into his seat with a grin. 

“Hear the rime of the ancient mariner, see his eye as he stops one of three, mesmerises one of the wedding guests. Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea.”

Something clicks.

“Oh, that’s a Coleridge poem!” You lean forward to turn it up further with your free hand, trying to concentrate on the words. It tells the whole story from the lyrical poem you’ve had a copy of since you took an interest in the romantics when you were fifteen; a mariner who kills an albatross and is blamed for the resulting misfortune by everyone on his ship. 

“I knew you’d know it. My smart girl.” Eddie is the picture of pride, eyes crinkled at the sides. “I was reading a Steve Harris interview - he, uh, writes most of Iron Maiden’s songs? And he mentioned the reference and I just thought, you know, you might think it was cool.”

“I do.” You picture Eddie, soft and comfy in his bed, flicking through a magazine. You imagine him reading about his favourite thing, and a spark lighting in his head relating to you. Something that made him excited to share it with you. “Thank you, Eddie.”

He shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything, but his cheeks are blooming with pink. You can’t say anything else, for fear of blurting out every thought running through your head. 

You listen in silence, trying to decide how you want to ask him. Every way to say it feels awkward and wrong. Fuck me, take me, have sex with me. You picture asking Eddie to make love and feel a mix of yearning and nausea. By the time you reach the quarry, you have been playing with the ring on Eddie’s right hand, feeling the smooth stone, twisting it round his finger, for a good five minutes.

Eddie steals his hand from you while he parks by the trees opposite the quarry, pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing them on the dashboard before reaching out to let you take hold of his hand again. The easy quiet is gone. You can feel him waiting for you to speak. Your mind screams at you to remain silent, hating the thought that you might risk humiliation with Eddie. 

“Will you look at me, baby?” Eddie pulls your hands from between you. You follow it with your gaze, watch him press a kiss to your knuckles before you meet his eyes. "I really didn't mean to, you know, imply anything by bringing you here."

You shake your head emphatically. “I know. You’d never.”

Eddie breathes a little sigh from his nose, looking relieved. You think he has to be the sweetest boy ever born, and then you can’t help yourself. Eddie makes a soft happy noise when you bring your face to his, lets you kiss his soft bottom lip. He licks softly at yours, so you open your mouth to let him in, holding back a whine and reaching up to play with the collar of his denim vest; the material rough and familiar in your fingers. 

Eddie pulls from you, licks his lips, and breathes, "I can't get enough of that." 

"Mm?"

"The way you grab at me when you get a little shy."

Your eyes widen, processing the reminder that your silly little habits are not as inconspicuous as you might wish to believe. Of course Eddie has noticed the way you fiddle with his hands, his rings, his hair, his clothes, the second you feel an uptick in the pace of your heart. But then, Eddie just said he likes it. 

"S'not annoying?" 

“Not for me! They call me Eddie the stress toy, you know. People used to come for miles around to give me a squeeze."

You laugh at his attempt at an earnest face. "Used to?" 

"Yeah, well, you got exclusive rights, these days." Eddie says, tilting his head with a touch of endearing shyness. “What kinda idiot would I have to be, not to like my girl touching me all over?”

You want him, want him, want him.

You press your heated face to his shoulder, still playing with the frayed denim of his collar while you mumble into the vest. “Eddie?” You feel the vibration of his answering hum against your cheek. “I want-” You shake your head, as if you could bury yourself into his clothes. “Can we-” You turn your face, looking at the seat behind, all the space there. 

Eddie strokes at your waist. “You wanna, uh, get in the back?”

At your quick nod, Eddie clasps your cheek with his warm hand. He tilts your head, kisses you soundly. “Stay right there.” 

Eddie jumps from the van, legs swinging, and jogs round to your side to open the door for you. “Princess,” he says, offering you his hand with a flourish. You giggle, jumping down towards him and letting him lead you round to the back of his van like a gentleman. Still keeping up the routine, he opens the back door and gestures with a bow before helping you up. 

The back is a scene of amps and wires, a bass drum with CORRODED COFFIN scrawled over the skin. Luckily there is space enough for the two of you, so you settle yourself in the middle, surrounded by enough little pieces of Eddie that the back of this van feels a little like home. When you look up, Eddie’s still outside, staring in at you.  

You press your knees together, turn them to the side. “Eddie?”

“Yeah-” his voice breaks. He tries to hide it with a cough, clearing his throat and giving his chest a couple taps with the side of his fist. “Yeah,” he repeats, deeper now, as he climbs up after you. When the doors are closed, Eddie shuffles towards you, half squatting. “So, you’re happy with the carriage, Princess?” You nod, throat tight when Eddie kneels down in front of you. “That’s good.” Something in his face changes, a spark of excitement in his dark eyes. “You wanna lay back for me?” 

The space between your legs pulses. “Mm.”

“Here,” he says, pulling off his jacket and rolling it up into a makeshift pillow. You lean back and he leans in to place it below your head, face above yours while you settle into the soft leather. His hair tickles your cheeks until he tucks it back, staring down at you. Your heart, your body, screams at you, ask him, ask him, ask him. Eddie kisses your neck quickly, shakes his head like he’s emptying out a thought. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had this dream.”

Again, ask him, ask him, ask him.

“Eddie,” you start, mind caught between the worry of how this will go and giving in to the gentle fuzziness of Eddie’s hands rubbing gently at your waist. You swallow, look to his eyes, then his forehead. “Will you-” The words catch, leaving you with a warm face and eyes squeezed closed in embarrassment. 

Eddie hums, gifts your cheeks his lips. His nose brushes the side of your face, and he murmurs. “Anything you want, pretty. Let me hear it, mm? ”

It’s Eddie, you tell yourself. From the first time you spoke to him, he’s never judged you for anything. He won’t judge you now. It’s Eddie, you repeat in your head. My Eddie. 

“I’ve never, um-” Your toes curl at the clear nerves in your voice, the beating of your heart that you swear he must be able to hear. “Nobody’s ever- Mmh.” 

“It’s just me,” Eddie says, thumb at your cheek. “It’s only me, sweet girl. Wanna know what you’re thinking.”

“I think,” you sigh, let some of the nerves out with it. “I think you’re beautiful, Eddie.” He blinks, surprised, but gives you a sweet smile when you touch gently at his pink cheek, feel the beginning of bristle under your finger. “And I want you. I mean, I want you to be first.” And second, and third, and every time after.

You stare at each other, breath heavy in your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine until he blinks it away. “Come- come here,” Even though he says it, he’s the one to lean down to you, giving you a chaste kiss that turns desperate when you reach up to play with his curls. 

Your head swims, relief and anticipation swirling together. A quiet moan escapes you when Eddie’s mouth moves to your jaw, down your neck. “Do you, um, have, like, protection?”

Eddie freezes. His face comes into view, brows furrowed. “Wait. You want me to fuck you right now?”

Oh. You hear the rush of blood in your ears, a ringing noise. You pull your hands from his hair, fingers curling, hands tucked to your chest. You suddenly wish he wasn’t on top of you, wish you could hide your face from him. Your head starts working overtime, supplying all the things he’s no doubt thinking about you now. You think of Erin, writing on the bathroom wall. Slut. Desperate. Whore.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. Eddie presses his pointer finger to your temple, gives it a playful rub. “Are you doing that thing you said you do? Lying there convincing yourself you’ve fucked something up?”

A little part of you resents that he nailed it down so quickly, but you nod, blinking away the first bubbling tears, staring at the collar of his Metallica shirt rather than his face. “I just thought you’d want to.”

Eddie makes a soft noise at the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He pushes himself up from the floor of the van, grabs your hand to pull you with him. You end up curled at his side, knees just resting on the side of his thigh, his arm tucked around your shoulder as he leans you both against the back of the seats. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fidgety even as Eddie is rubbing at your shoulder softly. 

“Course I want to,” he says, leaning into you. “I wanted you on that picnic table. I want you all the time.”

That soothes you a little, enough that your right hand peeks out from your sleeve to play with the hem of his shirt. But your sensitive heart still throbs, tentative and sore. “So, why…?”

“I- Shit. Give me a minute.” Eddie hugs you tight for a second, then shuffles across the floor of the van, practically launching himself out of the back doors with a practised ease that makes you smile despite yourself. You can’t see him from here, but you hear him outside, the passenger door opening and closing behind you. When he returns, he’s got that metal lunch box he carries around with him. A different kind of confusion blooms when he sits next to you and opens it, rummaging through the little plastic bags of illicit substances. He pulls out a wad of rolled bills, a little chunkier than when you’d bought weed from him in the woods that first day.

“Wanna know what this is for?” Eddie asks, looking unusually serious when you glance at him. He opens his mouth then closes it again, eyes fixing on where he is thumbing at the band holding the bills together. “I thought you might ask me, eventually. Hoped you would, at least.” He breathes a laugh, pings the elastic. “So I’ve been saving up, you know?”

“Saving up?”

Eddie nods, turns his wide gaze to you with a tilted head. “Wanted to take you somewhere nice. Buy you dinner, something other than a burger or a pizza slice. Get a room at a hotel, with a big comfy bed. Thought I could show you-” He twitches, eyes flickering away from your face and back again. He swallows, shrugs. “S’like I said. I wanna deserve you.”

Your tense shoulders slump. Your chest aches. “Eddie,” you whisper, shaking your head. Trying again to blink away tears, you grab the roll of dollars from him, throw it back into that dumb obvious lunchbox. You climb up into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your wet eyes meet his. “You don’t have to prove anything. You deserve-” Me, whatever you want, everything. Your fingers twitch. You close your eyes tight, ashamed you can’t look at him when you say it. “I think, all the time, about how much I wish I knew you earlier. It’s like, before, I just spent the whole time missing you.” You find it in you to look at him then, gaze at his pretty face; pink, lightly freckled, shiny under his eyes. “I want you, Eddie. I want to be with you wherever you are.”

You stare at each other, listening to the steady rhythm of your breaths until they move in sequence, chests expanding and contracting together. You get that same feeling you got when Eddie held your hand after touching you for the first time, how he listened when you told him about how you blow out of proportion in your head, the way he was angry for you when you recounted how Andy treated you. When Eddie told you that he couldn’t understand you liking him, that people have held him at arm's length for being too much, that he refuses to give up on school, believes wholeheartedly in his dreams. One moment at a time, you are peeling back layers, exposing soft tissue. You are offering each other all your hidden parts, whispering, please look after this with every squeezed hand and kissed cheek. 

Eddie sniffs, wipes his eyes. Seeing his shaky smile, hearing his wet laugh, is better than any soft bed in any hotel.

“That’s good, cause, uh, I really hadn’t saved that much.” You giggle together through lumped throats. “At the rate I was going, you were gonna be waiting till you were forty-five.” You shake your head at him fondly, reaching up to play with the feathers of hair that brush the side of his face. Eddie pulls you in closer, ducks his chin. “But I still can’t take your virginity in the back of my van, sweet thing,” he says. “It just wouldn’t be right. You should be in a bed, at least. And if you’re happy for it to be mine? I’ll just make sure my sheets are washed.”

You rub the soft ends of his hair between your fingers. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” His hand comes to your cheek, helping you look at him. He must be able to feel the warmth of your face in his hand, but you lean into his palm anyway. When Eddie kisses you, it’s a gentle thing, a promise. 

When his tongue peeks out to lick into your mouth, it’s a request you’re happy to fulfil. Eddie groans at the taste of you, the sound of it registering across your whole body. Your hips roll subtly, and you feel the quirk of his lips. 

Eddie sighs into your mouth. “My pretty girl wants me to fuck her in my bed, mm?” 

The increasingly familiar zing of pleasurable shame zips up your spine. The air around you shifts, crackling like the split second of awareness before an electric shock. “Yeah, Eddie.” 

“But you need to be touched right now. So desperate,” he murmurs, the word that had mocked you minutes ago, now a warm tease. “So desperate you wanted to take my cock for the first time right here. In my van, parked by the side of the road.”

You shake your head, because you’re not really at the side of the road. Eddie was right when he said it’s quiet; nobody comes here. You’re about as likely to be found by the quarry as you are in his room. Eddie’s eyes light up with dark amusement, his hand drifting to the back of your neck. The pressure of his fingers there makes your hips twitch, your body recognising the signs, the promise of what’s to come when Eddie’s palm starts holding your head up. 

“No?” He asks, tilting his head, a teasing pout finding his pink lips. “You sayin’ I didn’t hear your right?”

Your toes curl. “No.”

The lines that run from the sides of Eddie’s nose to the corners of his lips deepen. “No, I did hear you right?”

“Eddie,”

“Ahh, yeah,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you lie back. He reaches out for his jacket, still rolled up on the floor, and places it back under your head. “That’s the good stuff.” You open your legs for him, let him settle his body on top of you, feeling the hardening length of him through denim and cotton at the apex of your thighs. Eddie licks his lips, tucks his hair back with a breathy laugh. “Shit. You got me thinking about it, now.”

Eddie sinks his face to your neck, the warm sting of his tongue making the mess between your legs increasingly hard to ignore. His big hand pulls at the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to your tummy. He glances down your body, eyes closing tight at the pale blue cotton cupping your mound, dark and sticky where it’s soaked up your wetness. “Wanna feel your little pussy on my cock so fucking bad. I can’t tell you how-” He cuts off a groan at the first run of his fingers over the wet material. “Christ. How many times I’ve thought about it.” 

You blink at him slowly, mind drifting into the calm of knowing Eddie’s going to make sure you both feel good. Your hips tilt naturally, helping him rub the curve of his finger over your clit through soaked cotton, then wiggling to help him more when his fingers hook into the elastic to pull them down your legs. Once they’re past your sneakers, he holds them in his hand for a second, rubbing his thumb along their centre. When you tilt your hips, pussy barely catching the rough denim over his crotch, his nostrils flare. “Don’t distract me, I’m holding precious cargo.”

He seems to settle on where to put them, draping the cotton over the top of one of the amps rather than letting them touch the floor. You giggle at his careful consideration, and Eddie’s dimples press into flushed cheeks. 

“You thought about it?” Eddie asks, watching your face when his thumb sweeps over your clit, noting the sensitivity before he starts up with tight circles that have you keening. “Thought about me inside you?”

He has to feel the new wetness between your legs that comes with your desperate nod. In truth, you’ve thought about it almost endlessly. You know it can hurt, have heard enough stories of virginity loss from the girls at the cheer table to know that it probably will. But when you imagine being close to Eddie that way, the only thing you can conjure up is the feeling of his fingers inside, how much further you’d have to stretch to take Eddie’s cock, the one that makes your jaw ache. Maybe the prospect should give you pause, but thinking about how Eddie would guide you through it sends excited shivers down your spine.

“Yes, Eddie.”

“You wanna feel my cock now?” He breathes, watching confusion flicker over your blissed face. “Know you like riding your pillow, sweet thing,” he says, your face hot at the memory of telling him how you masturbate. “But I think you might like rubbing up on me a little better.” 

Your clit twitches. You clench inside. Eddie either feels or sees the reaction of your body because he’s humming in excitement the next second, leaning down to kiss you, press his tongue to yours until you’re groaning into his mouth. He looks a little manic when he pulls away, hands scrambling with his belt when he throws himself to the side, lying on his back, ready for you to climb up on him. 

Without thinking, your hands catch his, stopping him from pulling at the loop. You squeeze his palms. “Let me?”

In answer, he moves his hands from his jeans, letting them rest flat across his stomach. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to sit on his thigh and grind against the denim just to get some instant relief. You reach out to the side of his head, grab his jacket and slide it to the back of his head. Eddie tilts his head up, lets you position it just so. You check, “comfy?” and he nods. 

Satisfied, you return to Eddie’s belt. The action of pulling at the leather is excitingly familiar to you now. The button of his jeans comes next, then his zip humming as you pull it down. His boxers are a soft check, the waistband positioned just under the first tufts of dark hair that lead to where Eddie is filling out the material. You think about his hands teasing your clit through your panties, mimicking him by brushing a knuckle over the mound peeking out from his zipper. It’s enough to make Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers twitch. 

You hook your fingers into the elastic, start pulling them down. Eddie sighs in relief when his cock meets the air, hard enough to rise from his underwear the second he’s free. You imagine the stretch of him again, and clench down on emptiness. Eddie’s cock is a pretty pink all over. The furled skin at the top is a little shiny, and you know if you grasped his cock and pulled that skin back, his head would be wet with excitement. 

The thought strikes to just lean down and take him in your mouth, surprised to find that that’s already something of a comfort zone for you. But your clit throbs like it’s protesting, so you shuffle on your knees, feeling the sticky spread of your cunt when you open your legs to bracket his hips. You reach down, let yourself stroke Eddie’s cock just to hear the soft noise it draws out from his throat. You rub your thumb over that sensitive spot below his head, press his cock down until his length rests over the hair above it and the bottom of his soft tummy. 

With your free hand, you drift your hand between your legs, letting your fingers drift over your clit. You make a V with your fingers at the top, splitting your cunt open for him and feel a bone deep certainty that Eddie is the only person who could watch you doing this without real shame casting its shadow. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, getting impatient. “Sit on it, use my cock how you want, just let me feel you.” 

Nodding, body instinctively wanting to follow his direction, you settle yourself on his cock. Eddie groans at the warm slick that surrounds him, hands immediately moving to your hips to help guide you. Your entrance flexes at the base of him, and he tries to pull you straight down like he could find more space between your lips for his girth. “Jesus Chri-”

Eddie’s words cut off with a choke when you glide yourself forward, hearing your wetness spread along his dick. You whine at the feeling, Eddie’s cock stimulating not just your twitchy button but your soft, clenching hole. Shifting back, your legs twitch when his head, exposed as the surrounding skin is pulled back by the clasp of your lips, catches just right against your clit. A few more blissful drags, and you are whining, hands flat against Eddie’s chest, fingers pulling at the softness of his shirt. 

You wiggle your hips, close to hysteria at how good it feels to have Eddie this close. Eddie grins up at you, the pride on his face making you all the more desperate. He looks overwhelmingly pretty like this, hair fanned out across his jacket, lips wet and swollen from his constant licking and your own kisses. His neck, as blushed as his face and his cock, is exposed and tense. His dark eyelashes that flutter every time his head drags over your clit and emerges from between your lips. His eyes, dark in the centre where his pupils have swallowed up mahogany, flicker back and forth between your face and where his cock vanishes and appears again, enveloped and released by the wet split of your pussy.

“You feel me now, mm?” He says, sounding hurried like he’s trying to get it out before his voice is swallowed up by groans. “Haven’t even taken three of my fingers, but you thought you could just lie back and take my cock?” You bounce a little when his head flicks your clit this time, torturing the swollen button with him a little longer. “Couldn’t’ve done it right, not how my desperate girl needs it. Just wanna make you feel good, you know?” 

“Feels good,” you murmur, wiggling your hips to feel his cock flex and shift over all the tender skin where you are most sensitive. “You always feel so good, Eddie.”

“Yeah? That’s it, that’s it.” Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips, no doubt leaving you with marks that will be satisfyingly tender by morning. “Fuck. Fuck, baby, I love you-r pretty voice.” He swallows, eyes now fixed on your pleasured face. “Love when you talk to me.” 

“Eddie, m’gonna-” You start to shake, and his hands grab at your hips, helping you keep moving along him even as the stimulation edges towards painful. 

“That’s it, cum on me. Let me feel it.”

Your body spasms, letting yourself move only with Eddie’s pushing and pulling as the throb of your clit spreads through your body, sends tingles up your spine. You feel your clit numb for a second, know enough now about your own body what that means for the intensity of your orgasm. You sit on that precipice, gasping in air. 

Pleasure bursts, has you shaking and moaning and, unbeknownst to you, repeating, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” while the boy beneath you chases his own high, wanting to finish before you’re too oversensitive to keep your perfect warm pussy on him. 

Bending his knees, he grinds up into you, helping you slide along him. When he pulls your hips just so, and the tip of him barely catches the soft entrance of your cunt, Eddie finally cries out beneath you. The almost violent twitch of his cock between your legs makes you squirm, picturing that happening inside you. Eddie’s cum, thick and white, lands across his stomach in droplets, the last rope clinging to the tip of his cock in a way that, shamefully, makes your mouth water.

Sensitive, twitching, you rise from his body. Your shaking thighs fail you almost immediately, and you fall back on your butt between his open legs, a hand coming to cover your stimulated pussy like it needs protection. Eddie sits up, wipes his own hand across his stomach and draws his cum into his mouth with an ease that might surprise you if you hadn’t seen Eddie casually taste his own cum just about every time he’s orgasmed in front of you. 

This is what you meant, when you told May that being with Eddie is fun. Sex has always been something with disclaimers attached. Something to be enjoyed, but not too much. Something to get lost in, but not enough that you cross the line into acting slutty. It seemed to you like a tightrope nobody had shown you how to walk. 

And then there’s Eddie, who just watched you cum so hard on top of him that you immediately fell on your ass, and he’s grinning at you like he’s never been so proud of anyone in his life. “Now tell me that wasn’t way better than your pillow.” He reaches out for you, and you let him pull you into his arms, rest your head against his chest. You watch, warm in your face, while he tucks his softening cock, still covered in you, back into his boxers. “You feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, tracing the blue lines of lightning on his shirt with your finger. Your thighs twitch again, and you laugh together, soft and breathless. You settle into that post high afterglow, letting yourself be comforted by how surrounded by Eddie you are. His arm around you, his chest under your head. You can hear the way his heartbeat shifts from an intense rhythm to a steady beat under your ear. There’s another sudden uptick just before he speaks.

“I was missing you, too.”

You shift, look up at him from his chest, find him staring at the ceiling. 

“Sometimes my life has felt like being dealt one bad hand after another.” His gaze shifts then, eyes finding yours. “Now, I think, maybe I was saving up for something really good without realising.” 

Eddie Munson; town freak, rumoured Satanist, bad news for sweet girls like you, on the floor of his van, arms wrapped tight around you, says; “You’re a lifetime of good luck, sweetheart.”

And then you know. 

Next Part

[thelunarfairy]

Hello! How are you? I'm Brazilian too! Nice to meet you! I love your analyses!

I really like your thoughts on the problematic relationship between Hanako and Tsukasa! Even though I find it a bit strange that so many people feel excited about a possible 'incest'.

Usually, most people believe that Amane and Tsukasa had a victim and abuser relationship. They think Amane murdered Tsukasa because he couldn't take the abuse any longer.

But I believe it was the opposite, to be honest. I think Amane was the problematic one. Tsukasa seemed very happy and with lots of friends during Omen Arc. Amane always seemed distant from everything and everyone.

I genuinely think that the twins relationship was really good. But It became very problematic with time, and Amane became obsessed with Tsukasa in some way. Perhaps this obsession led him to kill Tsukasa.

PS.: I doubt 'God' would have punished Hanako to become a supernatural if his crime was simply an act of self-defense. That's why I really believe Amane isn't completely innocent!

I would really like to hear your thoughts about this 'abuse' theory. A lot of people believe that Tsukasa is just a manipulatice monster and that really annoys me. I genuinely believe that their relationship wasn't simple and could indeed have been romantic and really intimate. However, I don't think Tsukasa would truly be capable of hurting his brother simply "for the pleasure of doing so."

Yeeeeeey another Brazilian for the team! \O/ Happy to know that you are Brazilian Anon ^^

The twins' relationship is particularly fascinating, the unknown that hangs over them, like a gray cloud that doesn't allow you to see beyond the limits, is mysteriously curious.

It makes people have all kinds of ideas about how this relationship works, and one of those possibilities is the romantic side of things. After a while, you get used to the fact that there is always a group in the fandom that will ship taboo couples, forbidden couples, the twins fall into this.

I tell you that the first theory I found about JSHK was about abuse. The evidence makes it have a certain meaning, after all, if it hadn't, it wouldn't have spread and been known by so many people.

The panic reaction when seeing Tsukasa, breaking into a cold sweat, being embarrassed, blushing, the image of Tsukasa about to bite Hanako's ear while he is tied up and defenseless, the injuries in suggestive places, such as the neck, mouth, rope marks on the wrists, and Hanako's words "I forgave, even if it's unjustifiable"

And of course, the fact that Hanako is perverted in that way, generally (in some cases, not all) people who have suffered sexual abuse tend to have more intense desires than ordinary people, again, it depends on the victim, it depends on the person. Each of them reacts in a different way, but this is one of the possible consequences.

All of this is evidence, it turns out that evidence tends to lead us down several paths, and that of abuse is one of them. Don't rule out this theory yet, let's keep it close, it may not have been Tsukasa, but something happened.

That said, let's think about the evidence we have now. Lately we have had more and more presence with Tsukasa in a more intimate, more personal way, we saw part of his childhood, and we discovered his altruistic side, as well as his innocence in certain situations.

Tsukasa is a very intelligent boy, but he still acts like a little boy. You can clearly notice that he is not as mature as Hanako, he has a certain level of undeniable innocence.

And this is where we see the abuse theory break down. We saw in the last chapter that he was surprised to discover that Amane wanted to do perverted things, Tsukasa also believed that kisses tasted like lemon, which means he hadn't kissed anyone before (maybe), I could mention many other situations, but the answer would be too long.

You see? Nothing strange here.

That's because we're targeting the wrong person. Exactly, we have to target Hanako.

Amane seemed to have a big problem that he was having trouble solving, something that tired him, something that seemed like a dead end, and this was reflected in his eyes. It wasn't a matter of him being unfriendly, there was something going on that made him that way.

Amane didn't care about anyone and didn't want anyone to meddle, he's still like that. Like Hanako, he only cares about the people he likes, the rest is just the rest. Hanako seems to be oblivious to people who don't interest him, have no importance and sometimes no empathy.

But why was he like that? Maybe he didn't want to get involved with anyone so they wouldn't find out what was going on, something that was clearly related to Tsukasa.

Amane appears to love Tsukasa the same way he loves Nene. Hanako has been troubled lately trying to save Nene's life at all costs, he didn't make the best choices for that, but he did, and the more he fails, the more tired he seems to get.

There is the idea that Amane was destined to die from the beginning, but Tsukasa sacrificed himself in his place. So, maybe he tried to change that, considering the idea that he must have found out about it, at some points we saw Tsukasa asking if Amane wants him to stay or leave, he is the one who has to decide.

So, it seems like it has something to do with this sacrifice thing, trying to save Tsukasa's life, that's because Amane hates himself, he doesn't care what happens to him, he just wants Nene to live, so, Who can guarantee that he didn't already feel this way when he was alive?

"My brother died because of me"

Perhaps, Amane's love became "different" when he discovered what Tsukasa did for him. Hanako isn't one to resist when he discovers that people do something for him, care about him, we see this with Nene all the time, and we also saw that Tsukasa did three times as much for Amane.

Maybe he fell in love with Tsukasa, but because it was wrong, he suppressed that feeling with all his might. But, we know how jealous and possessive he is, seeing the way he talks about Tsukasa having friends, almost like a disregard for it.

It's hard to talk about this when we haven't seen much about them. But lately, this idea is the one that's been floating around in my thoughts.

An older brother who fell in love with the younger one and tried to hide it at all costs, the more he discovered or spent time with the younger one, the more intense it became. The fear of suddenly losing his brother again may have made him insecure, clingy, possessive.

What types of desires did Hanako have for Tsukasa? What kind of things did he think to the point that he had to hide it at all costs? Why when Tsukasa found out that he wanted to do perverted things did Hanako for the first time act extremely embarrassed?

Passion, desires. Tsukasa has a more innocent love, perhaps he can be in love too, he compares himself to Nene when she confirms that she loves Hanako in a romantic way. But, it turns out that maybe he doesn't quite understand what kind of love he feels.

So, that's what it implies, a forbidden love that was stifled until Amane couldn't take it anymore.

Of course, we have to consider that Amane may have killed Tsukasa with the intention of killing only the creature, so a duality.

The abuse theory became weak after we found out about Tsukasa's more innocent nature, but that's no guarantee of anything.

It is a theory with logic that is applicable in some senses, but which is falling apart.

Maybe?

[chaifootsteps]

the writers have got themselves in an interesting conundrum, because like

they've written Blitzo to very clearly think Stolas only cares about sex and has a fetish for sex with someone of a lower class than him on top of it

like as recently as Oops he said that and it looks like he's gonna say it in full moon, too

and he's not wrong - Stolas has yet to prove to him why that isn't the case.

so like, how are the writers gonna get Blitzo from point A - annoyed and disgusted by Stolas - to point B - in total puppy love with him, if they aren't going to address Blitzo's main problem with Stolas? (and note the writers have carefully made sure his problem isn't with the transactional deal, which no one can deny is Stolas' fault, but they've made him annoyed that Stolas sees him as a fetish/just wants sex, because it's easier for the show to gaslight him into thinking he's wrong despite the minimal amount of times Stolas ever said anything non sexual to him that wasn't a blink and you miss it text message or offscreen phonecall)

like my bet is that Stolas isn't going to do anything to prove himself or his love to Blitzo. he's going to double down, he's going to insist now he's done the bare minimum of not coercing him for sex anymore that Blitzo has no right to be angry with him. he'll go on the apology tour and roast Blitzo and since Verosika is there too Blitzo will have an epiphany that he's been a bad boyfriend to both of them (he was never Stolas' boyfriend but let's not let that get in the way of hackneyed writing) - well, mostly Stolas, lbr

that accompanied with Blitzo discovering Stolas was abused by Stella will make him do a complete 180 on Stolas. Maybe the writers will even have Stolas date the parrot - like we need another male Goetia sucking up screentime like a black hole - just to punish Blitzo for realizing 'too late' that he loved Stolas

then it's on Blitzo to make the Big Romantic gesture to make Stolas feel loved while Stolas just gets to have his love as a reward without ever making Blitzo feel wanted or validated in return, since it was all his fault to begin with. Stolas never has to know how his father bought his only friend, or consider how much like Paimon what he did in the present was, or treat his servants like living beings, or change at all

all that matters is he's rewarded with Blitzo as a partner just in time for Stolas Woobification Round #2: This Time My Ungrateful Daughter Went Too Far

This is exactly the bet I'd place my money on too. Incidentally, I will be using my winnings to buy dozens of puke buckets.

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Poll Vote Fluff

Sorry everyone for being late. Was fighting a mean headache. I hope you all had a great weekend and wish you a wonderful week <3

A Legend about True Love by Katia_Anyway (G)

The Prince of the Kingdom, Luffy, has spent his whole life locked up in the Castle, his Grandfather the King insisting that the world outside was too dangerous. But the Prince is curious and adventurous, he wants to go explore, even if that means having to sneak out alone. But once outside, he gets lost, and needs the help of a very beautiful Witch named Trafalgar Law.

No Stranger to Crazy by Purplehairedwonder (G)

The Straw Hats arrive on an island to discover not only that the Hearts are already there, but there is also a winter festival happening. Law doesn’t have the best memories with winter islands or festivals, so Luffy is determined to make some good ones with him.

You can calm me down by Sakuya_Serenity_Kira (G)

After Luffy has beaten Kaido devastatingly, his fighting spirit is unbroken. He wants, he needs more. In this intoxication, he loses control of his new abilities. Can someone stop him? But who? And how? After all, Luffy is now. . . a god.

A Sinner's Pledge by bimarian (T)

This one little incident this morning just reminded him of the promise that he wanted to make and of the letter that he said he would have to eventually write. The Surgeon takes a moment to glance between his sleeping fiancé and the papers on his lap before he finally writes a greeting on the scented paper. ‘Hey, Ace-ya.’  In which Luffy wakes up from a nightmare—and Law finally writes a letter to make one little promise to Ace.

Midnight by Chenziee (T)

Luffy really wanted to celebrate the end of the year with his friends and family but with his arm injured, strict orders of no partying, and his roommate on his heels, it got really damn hard to sneak out.

Are You Bananas by Plume8now (G)

Usopp gives Luffy an idea, and now, Luffy can't get it off his mind. Of course, he won't wait until tomorrow to do it. And nothing can stop Monkey D. Luffy.

The Mysterious Case of the Hiccups. by ClementineJuicebox, SailorHeichou (G)

-hic- The first hiccup that started it all.

Show me what love is all about by aloas (T)

If Law didn’t know how useless Luffy is when it comes to making plans, he would be complimenting Luffy’s mastermind for always knowing just the right way or the right time to catch Law unguarded. But Law knows that is not the case. So, he curses at the universe. Or fate. Or whatever deity out there that is constantly plotting for Luffy to find Law. (Or the one where Law learns a thing or two about love.)

Answer the Question by Heart_Core (T)

Law’s birthday celebration hadn’t gone the way Luffy expected too, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Our Hearts, Made Whole in Each Other by Purplehairedwonder (G)

Luffy cupped Law’s cheek with his hand, softly grazing his thumb over a yellowing bruise. “Torao is so pretty,” he said quietly, a note of awe in his voice. Law flushed. “Torao’s heart is beating so fast.” “Yeah,” Law agreed, swallowing. “It is.” Luffy’s, despite a few flutters, was beating steadily in Law’s chest. Law, on the other hand, felt pinned to the spot, one hand holding Kikoku and the other in Luffy’s grip. “You should stay.” Law blinked. “What?” “You should stay,” Luffy repeated. “On the Sunny. With me." Written for 10 Days of LawLu 2023 Day 10: Confessions.

Always See the Daylight by Purplehairedwonder (G)

“Why did you want to see my room?” Law asked, both curious and a bit apprehensive at what the response might be. “Because it’s yours!” Luffy said immediately, sitting up quickly. Luffy looked as though the answer had been obvious. For Law, however, that explained exactly nothing. “What—” Luffy looked around, his expression softening in a way that made Law fidgety. “It’s very Torao,” he decided. Written for LawLu Week 2022. Day 5 Prompt: Captain's quarters

Coming Home (To Breathe Again, To Start Again) by Purplehairedwonder (G)

Law had a… complicated relationship with the concept of home. But here on the beach of Wano with Luffy looking at him with such fondness that Law wanted to squirm, he thought that maybe home could be another person.

-Mod Raiya

[vampsquerade]

May I ask for a Price x male reader?

Where the reader goes on a killing spree for some reason and Price has to stop him

And the reader just turns to him and says

❛ i won’t stop killing until you kill me. ❜

of course, thanks so much for requesting some Price from me anon c: i hope you’re okay with the direction i decided to go in. i know some of it doesn’t make sense but…i wanted to try something new with this!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Captain Price x Male!Reader: Chasing a Shadow

Trigger Warnings: angst with a neutral/bad ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, graphic descriptions of murder, revenge, personal vendettas, self-righteous mentality and motives, investigative hunting, forewarnings to the story, COD:MW2 (2022) spoilers

Being a vigilante was never supposed to be an easy thing, you knew that for sure. So when you went undercover and posed as a loyal member of Shadow Company after taking the identity of one operator you were working with in order to get better intel on the situation in regards to Hassan having hold on the missing missiles, it filled you with a gut-wrenching hatred. You hated them, but most importantly you hated the way they handled the situation. Shepherd did nothing but try and cover up the fact that he compromised that operation and got an entire unit killed. But why exactly was it time for you to begin to enact your revenge?

Civilians were going to pay the price; like they always had.

You’d grown tired of Shepherd and Shadow Company and figured that they were to be made responsible for their actions by making sure not a single one of Graves’ men survived. Your rampage began late at night, with you taking out several of the guards that were around. You didn’t care that these Shadow weren’t directly involved in the ambush by Al-Qatala, you just needed to make sure not a single Shadow could neither survive nor be able to continue Shepherd and Graves’ dirty work. At this point, you Task Force 141 was debated on the table but after seeing how well Price and the others had you outnumbered both in guns and strength, you made sure to keep a watchful eye just in case.

See, Price and his task force had been tasked with retrieving the missiles but was completely unaware of what happened all that time ago—despite being getting close to realizing what Shepherd had been hiding. Hell, it was the reason why you were so covered in scars each and every time he asked you about it. Once you were satisfied for the night and all the Shadow in the surrounding area were taken out, you made your way out before any suspicions were raised. You made sure to disguise one of the Shadow as you so they would think you had been killed. The morning came around and Price and the others became increasingly aware of what had happened in the night.

He and everyone else looked around for any answer they could find and once they noticed you had gone missing and not killed, he feared you had been kidnapped by Al-Qatala forces. No important intelligence seemed to be taken, as all you had decided to take was where the stationed Shadow were. All camera footage was checked and it appeared that immediately after a figure clad in all black, whom they couldn’t tell was you, had taken the power out to make it easier to get away with taking out all the Shadow. He personally saw to it that whoever it was, despite not knowing that the perpetrator was you, was caught and apprehended for this.

Days would go by as Price continued to follow you as were targeting Shadow of all ranks, interrogating several that managed to survive your attacks only to be left terrified of speaking out for the sake of their families; several of which even put in a formal request to be discharged. You had recently caught wind from a few that the situation with Hassan was starting to get serious and that the 141 was starting to get a bit too close to discovering how exactly Hassan had gotten his hands on the missiles Shepherd lost. The ones you lost.

There was also talk of Graves taking over the mission once Shepherd deemed it was time to, and that he and several other Shadow were going to apprehend or at the very worst kill Price and the others. You’d say you didn’t care, more focused on getting rid of Shadow Company once and for all, but you did care. Price and the others didn’t deserve to be caught up in the crossfire of Shepherd’s mistake. Shadow Company needed to be taken down as fast as it possibly could.

You saw this as the greater good.

About a month would go by and you would come to be called Lightbearer, as it was believed by the Shadow that you were going to be the one that would force the public to see what Shepherd did and put you through. Price was still hot in your trail and from how close he was, it would’ve been a sweltering heatwave. Tonight, just like many others, you were just about finishing up with all the Shadow in the area. Effectively snapping the neck of the poor Shadow you had a vice grip on, you bid him farewell as his body fell limp.

“What in the hell happened to you?” a familiar voice behind you asked. Startled, you drew your knife and put yourself into a defensive position as you stared at the man that spent a long time looking for his target. Captain John Price had finally found his killer. “What have you been doing this past month? We’ve had several Shadow go AWOL, request to be discharged, and straight up killed. Why are you doing this?” he asked softly, raising his arms to prove his surrender to you. “You’ll understand soon enough. I spent too damn long all that time since the incident to do anything about it.” you say curtly, narrowing your eyes to glare at him. “You need to stop this.” Price says.

You turn away from him, ready to get out of there, only to hear him pull a pistol on you. “Y/N.” Price says, warning in his voice. Not another step is taken forward, as you remain frozen to try and figure out what your next move is. Mind cold, words finally come pouring from your mouth, “I won’t stop killing until you kill me.” you say as you turn just your head to look at him. “But why are you doing this? You’re going to jeopardize our mission entirely.” Price says, holding onto the pistol tighter. “You’ll see soon enough why I’m doing this. I’m getting rid of them so they’re aren’t a lot left trying to kill all of you.” you say. “What do you mean by that? What do you know?” Price asks.

His expression had softened despite the tight grip he had on the pistol, as if trying to get more information out of you. “Like I said, you’ll see soon enough. I’m not the messenger for this. Either Laswell, Shepherd, or Graves will let you know—keep your ears open for the last motherfuckers.” you say, fully breaking into a sprint to the fence in front of you. “Y/N- Wait!” Price yells, holstering his pistol and running after you. It’s too late; by the time he reaches you, you’ve already climbed over the fence and continued sprinting away to continue your killing spree. Hands gripping the fence, Price can only watch you as you run. He doesn’t have the guts to kill someone that got as close to him as you had. You were practically one of his own, forgetting entirely that you were a Shadow.

Price purposefully let you slip through his fingers.

[asherloki]

Different yet special

Stephen strange x reader

Warnings :- smut! Age gap!

Merging these two requests together!

Requests:- Stephen is all for the classical music, even some pop songs, so meeting a young reader who is all about rock music is about to turn his whole life around! (And maybe drive him crazy during training sessions lol) - anon !

And

Hi! Saw you're asking requests! How about smut with Doctor Strange? 8 and 43 pretty please- anon

A/n :- the smut request was from inexperienced prompt list and I'm not doing that at the moment, rather this trope list is what I'm looking forward to write for. Hope you like it !

Y/n first met Stephen as his student. She always had a thing for older men perhaps, that's why she found him attractive. Yet she discovered his tastes are too different from her own. Especially music. Y/n is a big music freak and her favourite genre was perhaps mostly the rock genre when Stephen prefered classical. He would just be annoyed while she'd play those loud songs on speakers. Her drums would just make his ears almost go deaf. He used to be really annoyed until he started to find himself getting a little attracted to her. Her chirpy quirky nature, and her energy, everything. But he still couldn't stand those loud music. Perhaps the difference made him drawn towards her and so was in her case.

The realisation took time but Stephen acted on it quickly. He asked her out on few dates and they got to know they're exactly opposite to eachother. And that was perhaps, amazing! They likes one another way too much that y/n knew she was falling for Stephen, and Stephen was too, atleast his eyes said so. One night they stayed up till late, roaming around the garden and talking. It felt like they don't wanna go to their own rooms, and Stephen had a good idea popping up in his head. He invited y/n to join him in his room, but sex wasn't on his mind, perhaps a sweet chirpy night was. She agreed to join him.

Y/n entered Stephen's room. She walked inside with wide eyes, how different it is from her own, no vibrant LEDs, no comic book characters printed on bedsheets, no posters on the walls. Nothing like her own room.

"You think you'll be comfortable here?" Asked Stephen from behind.

"Oh" replied she, a little startled, "yes, your room is a little old fashioned in it?"

"Better than the rooms your generation has" he teased, "obviously you have those rockstar's posters in your walls don't you?" He asked being a little annoyed.

"Yes I do, oh Stephen, give them a listen, they're good". She urged.

"Mmm no thanks, my classical musics are fine, rather you should try it." He replied thoughtfully.

"Nah, they're boring." They always argue playfully over music.

Stephen thought it was time to make the first move, he took a few steps forward and cupped her face,

"Stephen?" Y/n was stunned, at this sudden approach but she liked it and let him place his lips on hers. y/n kissed him back softly. After the sweet nice tender kiss, Stephen couldn't help but say, "I thought you'd be more aggressive like those aggressive songs of yours."

"Oh well, no I... It's um.." y/n couldn't tell him the reason though, and the reason is she's a virgin and has barely kissed two or three men before.

"Oh I see" Stephen said observing her.

"You see what?" She replied.

"Not much experience?" He said.

Y/n looked down and shook her head. Stephen held her chin between his two fingers and raised her face to him.

"Am I allowed to be your first?" He asked smiling.

Y/n knew what was coming and it didn't seem bad at all. It seemed hot for some reason, her cheeks turned red as she nodded. With her consent Stephen kissed her again, this time more passionately. And scooped her in his arms. And put her on his bed, climbing on top of her. His lips again touched hers and then he started to mark her neck. Little gasps escaped her lips. And his hands wasted no time to unbutton her shirt and throw it somewhere in the room. He unclasped her bra revealing her breasts, at this moment he lifted up his face staring at her tits and that sight made her let out a small whimper. He wasted no time placing his lips around her nipples, sucking and licking softly. Pleasure made her arch her back, not knowing more to come. After paying attention to both her tits he got up and unbuttoned her jeans, throwing it down to join her shirt and bra.

"Mm fucking wet, I can see through your tiny thong." He whispered making his voice sound even more sexy. He literally ripped that fabric away and got down between her legs. Kissing her thighs and sniffing her arousal.

That was enough for her to moan and she did. As soon as his tongue touched her clit. She grasped the pillow and her other hand pinched her own nipples. Stephen ate her out like a starving man. He took her hand and gestured her to tug at him. She did tug his hair and grind herself on face.

"Ah Stephen.." she moaned his name out loudly. And that encouraged him even more. The older, hotter , sexier man eating her out, ah! Paradise.

"Yes baby girl" he finally said against her pussy and that vibration sent shivers down her spine.

"Look at this little pussy, begging to be fucked." He whispered as he got up undressing himself, now y/n could see him bare, and how sexy looked unbuttoning his belt and taking off his trousers. And then finally she saw his member all ready to make her feel good.

"Ready baby girl ?" Stephen asked.

Y/n nodded and then played her trick while she whispered, "yes daddy."

How exciting was that to Stephen. He climbed on the bed and positioned himself, and uttered, "You want it from daddy?"

"Yes daddy, make me yours."

And then he slide himself in her tight pussy. She almost screamed in pain, "it might hurt a little baby, but don't worry, daddy will take care of you." And he started to rock his hips. and it took a little time but ultimately the pain turned into pleasure. "I've been wondering how it feels like." She said to Stephen.

"Is it anything you've imagined?"

"Everything and more Steph... I mean daddy."

And that smirk on Stephen's face was priceless.

"May I go a little faster?"

"You may".

And he fastened his pace. The thrusts became stronger and then after sometime the thrusts made the bed shake rapidly. The room filled with alot of unholy sounds, moans, whimpers.

"Are you sure this is your first time baby girl?" Stephen asked.

"Yes why?"

"You are taking me very well."

"Yes daddy, you're making me feel so good."

"Aww baby, look at you, you're talking like a slut".

"Oh fuck... daddy right there daddy".

And he fucked her until he felt she was close and with a loud moan she had her release, Stephen pulled out and released on her stomach, painting it white. He rolled over and layed down beside y/n.

They both panted and finally Stephen said, "you good?"

"Yes I am Stephen." Said y/n.

"The old fashioned bedroom isn't that bad no?" He teased her, making her giggle.

"No, it's good, but you still should listen to my type of songs Stephen."

"Ah fine, I will." Then he kissed her cheek and went to get a towel so she cleans herself.

"Actually, Stephen?" Asked y/n as he pulled the sheet over both of them.

"Yes?"

"Your songs might be not that bad either." Now at this point they knew no matter how different they are from eachother, nothing can create a barrier between them, as they have started to embrace the opposites.

[pigeonwhumps]

Aftermath

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @whumpinggrounds

Direct sequel to A Late Night Discovery by @i-eat-worlds, a crossover with their series Alex and Friends in which Joseph, their medic, finds Phoenix injured.

In this sequel, Aaron discovers more worrying things, and tries to take care of them.

2.7k

CWs: immortal whumpee, hero whump, abuse, mentioned child abuse, medical whump (past and current), painful wound care, being kicked out, team whump, fear of punishment, whumpee believing they're undeserving, low self-esteem, exhaustion, starvation, outcast whumpee

"You said you'd come to me if you were injured."

Phoenix cringes away from Aaron's disappointment. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought that, um, I could deal with it myself. It's not even bad."

"Hey. I'm not mad. But you've got a decent-sized gash on your side and you were going to attempt to treat it yourself. I suspect not too well either. Let me decide how bad your injuries are in future, alright?"

Phoenix nods. "What, um, what happens now? Am I free to go? It's really not that bad. It'll heal. I've had worse and, um, not gone to medbay."

"I don't want you heading back to your flat yet, not when there's a very real chance your teammates will make your injury worse. I estimate you'll be mostly healed by the end of my shift, and then you can go. Is that alright?"

Phoenix nods. It's unnecessary, but then so is a lot of what Aaron does for them. And Joseph too, apparently.

It's weird. They don't understand why Joseph's helping, he barely even knows them. But it makes them feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Thank you." Aaron squeezes their shoulder. "I'd better get back to work now. Please don't leave before I get back."

After Aaron's left, Phoenix curls up on the bed. The main problem with him visiting them when he's not busy is going to be fooling him into thinking they have somewhere to go. That won't be the case for months, if ever.

They spend most of the hours that Aaron's gone trying to think of an excuse to get them off their back so they can return to their hiding place in the corner of the supply cupboard. But it's... well. They have no idea what to say that would be convincing.

But if they don't... they've fucked up. They know they have. Indigo and Segun kicked them out, and they must've had a reason for it, even if they weren't exactly clear with Phoenix (and even if it is only temporarily). And now Aaron will be angry about it, and they don't think they can stand that.

They're starting to feel rather hungry. Maybe they can have a snack after Aaron discharges them. That's sort of the same way as their flat.

Well. It can be.

They could just leave now. They're tempted. But they promised Aaron they'd stay, and they can't break a promise. That would be worse.

Aaron returns several hours later, clean bandage in hand. He smiles tightly as he enters the treatment area.

"Okay Phoenix. I'm going to check your injury and then rebandage it. It might hurt a bit. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Aaron winces as they bend down beside them. "No need for all the sirs." Gently, oh so gently, they unwind the bandage around Phoenix's waist. Honestly, it's too gently, they don't deserve it. They don't understand why Aaron is being so, so gentle.

"It doesn't look too bad, it's starting to close. I'm going to touch it quickly to check for infection." Aaron's as good as his word, touching for a few seconds at most. "It doesn't feel hot, that's good. I think you're safe. Let me just rebandage it. Hold onto the bed if you need to."

Phoenix doesn't think they'll need to at first, it's not like it's that bad, they're hurt all the time without professional medical care, but the bandage pressing down hurts and they end up with the pillow in a white-knuckled grip.

Maybe it hurts more if they're professionals.

He's so gentle, but it still hurts. But then, the pain is only what they deserve, after all.

"There you go, kid. It should be finished healing sometime tomorrow. Are you in pain?"

Phoenix swallows. The honest answer is yes, but they deserve it. Aaron will try to give them painkillers if they say yes, and they don't need them. Those can go to other heroes who need them, who deserve them, because they certainly don't.

"I, um, don't need painkillers. I'm okay, really. Other, um, heroes deserve them more."

"That wasn't what I asked. But it still answers my question." He heads across the room and pops a couple of painkillers, handing them to Phoenix with a glass of water. "I want to make it absolutely clear, Phoenix. You deserve painkillers just as much as anyone else here, and anyone telling you otherwise is just manipulating you. We have plenty of medicine, we're not running short, and even if we were, that doesn't mean you wouldn't deserve them. Alright?"

Phoenix nods. They don't believe them, but they don't want to know what'll happen if they disagree.

Aaron nods. "Alright. Alright." He strokes their hair gently and they close their eyes involuntarily. They're so tired. Sleeping in a storage cupboard isn't exactly conducive to good rest.

"You're free to go now, if you like. There's no rush, but so long as you come back in the morning for a check-up I'll discharge you."

"Yes please." Phoenix hops off the table, overbalancing slightly and catching themself on Aaron's arm. It doesn't matter. If they leave now, alone, before Aaron has a chance to change their mind, maybe they can get to their cupboard without them finding out.

"Woah. Are you sure you're okay to go back on your own? You don't need me to walk you?"

Phoenix nods. "I'm fine. Thank you."

And they take the packet of painkillers that Aaron presses into their hand and walk out of the treatment area.

_

Aaron frowns after Phoenix as they exit the treatment area. They don't look well. The bags under their eyes are even more pronounced than normal, and that's saying something. And they look scared. They're stumbling into things, like they're going to collapse.

Aaron doesn't trust that they'll make it back to their flat alone.

He shouldn't, it's probably breaking their trust in some way, but he follows. And that... that isn't the direction of their flat.

He's not going to say anything. Not even going to approach, just keep an eye. But then Phoenix stumbles, and staggers, and trips into the wall, starting to slide down.

And Aaron runs. Fuck, no. They're not letting Phoenix hurt themself more.

They put an arm around their waist, lifting them upright. They'd rather carry them but they were so adamant about not wanting to be accompanied earlier, the least they can do is attempt to accommodate their wishes.

"Hey, hey. Easy. You're okay."

Phoenix shakes their head frantically. "No, no, please, I'm sorry. Just let me go, please, I didn't, um, mean to be an inconvenience, I'm sorry, don't, um, don't hurt me, don't punish me, I know I deserve it but please."

"Woah. Easy Phoenix. I'm not going to hurt you. Aside from anything else, it'd be a waste of my efforts in healing you, hmm? Come on, take a deep breath. That's it. I'll walk you back to your flat, yeah? Are you okay to do that?"

Phoenix sniffs. "I– I– I can't– I'm not allowed– please just– I don't–"

Their voice cracks and they break off, bursting into hoarse, racking sobs.

"Please."

They flinch as Aaron touches their shoulder, and he squeezes it once before letting go.

"What can't you do, Phoenix?"

"I can't– I'm not 'llowed– Indigo 'n' Segun kicked me out. 'Cos 'm useless and only Abbie's apprentice and they don't need to waste resources on me. Please, don't be angry, I'm sorry."

Aaron swallows down the instinctual rush of hot fury at that statement. "I would never be angry about that. Not at you, at any rate. It's not your fault they're unwilling to fulfill anything more than the exact wording of their contractual obligations. Hmm? Where are you staying at the moment?"

Phoenix eyes him warily, like they don't believe a word of it, and he tries not to feel hurt. This isn't about him.

"Storage– storage cupboard," they whisper. Aaron shakes their head.

"That won't do, especially now you're injured. Want to come stay with me instead?"

"I, um, don't deserve that."

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "You can't heal in a space as small as the cupboards you must be using."

"Can. Have. Lemme go."

"Let me take care of you."

"Don't need that. Can't pay you back for it. I'll mess up. Don't wanna... please."

"You don't need to pay. I'm just trying to help my friend. You. I mean, you can do some chores if you really want to, but it's not compulsory."

"Flatmates? Don't wanna make people angry."

"I don't have any. Medics have studio flats. Which you know, you've visited before. Let me help you. Please. I'll worry for ages if I don't."

"Shouldn't. 'm not worth it."

"Hey. I decide who's worth worrying about."

And he doesn't know why. Maybe it's the emotional side in him. Maybe it's the way they get so tearful, so disbelieving, whenever anyone's kind. How could anybody not want to comfort them?

"Can I give you a hug?"

Phoenix nods, looking startled. Aaron puts their arms around them properly, carefully, one wrapped fairly tightly around their shoulder. And Phoenix...

Phoenix crumbles. Leaning against their chest, head pressed against them, sobbing their heart out as they grip his scrubs like their life depends on it.

Maybe it does. Aaron wouldn't put anything past their team.

"Hey. Shh, you're okay, it's okay, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. Just let it out, that's it, there you go, kid."

A nurse turns the corner into the corridor, immediately retracing her steps when she sees them. Aaron's grateful. Phoenix needs their privacy, even if it's hard to get here.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." They murmur it like a desperate litany, a prayer, and in response Aaron hugs them tighter.

"Let me help you. Please."

Phoenix looks up, confusion creasing their face. "You're, um, not going to give up, are you?"

"No. I'm not leaving you in a supply cupboard. Or anywhere else that you won't be taken care of. I'm off shift now, so I can do that."

"O-okay then, I guess. Where, um, where are you taking me?"

"To my flat. If that's okay. Can you walk?"

Phoenix nods and clears their throat, putting one foot down properly on the ground, preparing to stand.

And promptly starts to slide back down.

"And that's a no. Arms around my neck, there you go. When did you last eat a proper meal, kid? You're getting towards skin and bones."

"I, um, I had some biscuits yesterday. They were good biscuits! I had nowhere to get proper food from anyway!" they add defensively. Aaron tucks a lock of hair behind their ear, stifling a sigh.

"Cafeteria?"

Phoenix blinks up at them. "We have one of those?"

"Well, yes. Did no-one give you a tour?"

"Abbie said I didn't need one. That everything I could need was in the flat, and if I thought I needed anything else either I wasn't looking hard enough or I didn't need it. And it hurt when I asked for unnecessary things." Phoenix tucks their head in the crook of their neck. "'m sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for." Aaron doesn't know why they're surprised by anything Abbie and her team do anymore. Not giving Phoenix a chance to meet other heroes is the perfect way to keep them isolated and abuse them with no fuss or suspicion. And yet. "Once you're healed, fed and rested, I'm giving you a tour. You live here, you should see everything. Alright?"

Phoenix nods, already half-asleep. They must be exhausted.

"Good."

Aaron lifts them more steadily into his arms. "Where are your belongings? So I can fetch them after we've got you settled down."

"You, um, you don't have to do that. I'm fine."

"I know I don't. But I'm going to."

"Supply cupboard 14," they murmur.

"Thank you. You're not fine, though."

Phoenix makes a noise of disagreement and grips Aaron tighter as they pass a doorway. Aaron rubs their back, and it's not far before they reach his room. It's a struggle to unlock his door, and to be honest Phoenix's confused attempts at helping only make it worse, but eventually he makes it through, placing them on the bed. He gets some pyjamas out of the basket and folds them next to them.

"You don't have to change, but if you want to, there's some clothes here. I know you, you won't get any out yourself. Use the bathroom if you want too. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Aaron gives them a tight smile and heads back out to the medical corridors, trying to compose themself as they go. The worst part of all this is Phoenix's complete obliviousness to anything being wrong. And why would they think it was? Their whole life they've been abused, why would they think its continuation wasn't normal?

But they shouldn't, and he hates it.

They don't have many belongings, just a small rucksack which presumably isn't everything (and worrying bloody smudges on some of the shelving that he tries his best to ignore), and Aaron slings it onto their back, avoiding the no-doubt-curious doctors and nurses. Best fetch a snack while they're out too. A sandwich or cereal bar will do.

He pushes the door to his room open as silently as possible and heaves a quiet sigh. Phoenix, predictably, is on the floor, curled around their stomach. They haven't changed, or washed, or done anything except move somewhere very uncomfortable.

"Why?"

Phoenix flinches. "I, um, I don't want to make your flat dirty. I can use a bucket, I don't mind, really."

"Well I do. This was going to wait until your birthday, but I guess..." Aaron rummages around in a drawer and pulls out a folded green rough-ish fabric, with something like ears at the top. "Happy early birthday."

Phoenix frowns at it, visibly confused, and unfolds it like it's the most precious thing they've ever received.

"Is this... is it, um, is it a Yoda bath robe?" they ask quietly, astonished.

"Baby Yoda I think, technically."

"Grogu," corrects Phoenix absently, and Aaron feels a little relief that at least they feel relaxed enough to do that. "I've always wanted... thank you."

"That's okay. I bet you'll look adorable in it." He ruffles Phoenix's hair, and they pout. "Now. You have a wash, I'll help with the bandages, and then I've brought you something to eat. I know you're exhausted, but you'll pass out from hunger if you're not careful. And you're not sleeping on the floor."

"Can I, um, sleep on the sofa?"

"No," says Aaron flatly. "You're taking the bed."

"But, um, but I'll make your flat dirty. I'm not too bad, I can sleep on the sofa. Let me, um, sleep on the sofa."

"Not with those injuries, and that exhaustion."

"But, but once, um, I'm healed, I, um, I can?" they ask hopefully.

"Yep," lies Aaron. It's always polite to let the guest sleep on the bed, after all, especially when they've spent their life being abused by those who should be helping them. "But take the bed tonight."

"Where will you sleep though?"

Aaron shrugs. "The sofa. Or I can share the bed, it is massive after all. And you'd better sleep as much as you need to."

"Oh."

Phoenix doesn't seem to know what to say to that, as Aaron helps them to the bathroom. He's already planning. When they wake up, they'll take them on a tour. Most of the medical staff know Phoenix. Have guessed some of what's happening. They won't mind swapping a shift with him.

Some will, but they'll just have to deal. Aaron is going to take Phoenix on a tour as soon as they feel up to it, whatever anyone else thinks.

That ends up being two days later, after they've slept for close to 24 hours straight, and then rested reluctantly for another day. Aaron only just resists shaking them to ensure they're still alive.

They will be, though. They always are.

[sunshine-overload]

[BSTS] Main Story Season 5 Finale ‘Owner’s Order’ - Part 4

Part 3

Chapter 12

-secluded street-

sotetsu: Oh, you got here before me. My bad for being late.

kasumi: I don't mind, it's only natural for a background character like me to arrive first. Though, for you to want to meet me out here must mean it's about something you can't say at Starless, right?

sotetsu: It's about your private life. Not exactly something I can just spring on you in front of other people. I mean, you don’t want anyone else to know about your little sister, do you?

kasumi: …!

sotetsu: I may have obtained some information on her. She's alive, that much is for certain. However I don't know her location.

kasumi: …Where did you obtain this information?

sotetsu: I get that you can’t trust me. That's why I’m just relaying the info to you, I don't care either way and I’m not planning to look into it any further. But just keeping it to myself would leave a bad taste in my mouth, we're both work colleagues who joined at the same time after all. I got in contact with a new information broker after winning a little bet. They’re involved in that field if you catch my drift.

kasumi: That field, huh…

sotetsu: It's not an information pipeline I can use often, but it's a trustworthy source, I swear.

kasumi: What do you want me to do?

sotetsu: For now, nothing. When the time comes I’ll contact you.

kasumi: Fine. I’ll be ready for whenever that is then.

sotetsu: Another successful deal done and dusted.

–end

(note: after sotetsu mentions his sister, kasumi speaks seriously and without his usual speech quirks)

-

Chapter 12 SideA

-rehearsal room-

akira: Wh– What do you want? Don't just drag me around! Oi, Mokuren!

mokuren: ……

-mokuren releases him-

akira: Woah! 

-akira falls over-

akira: Ouch… Don't just throw me on the floor like garbage.

mokuren: Sing.

akira: I have been. My vocal chords are tired following a performance, give me a break here~ Aren't you being a bit too violent? Saki-chan looked pretty shocked seeing me being dragged by in the hallway before.

mokuren: I told you to sing, Akira.

akira: Haa… The hell is up with you? You want me to sing here? Now? To practice with you? I’m not interested in practicing again right after a show.

mokuren: No. I’m telling you to sing like you mean it. Both of us aren't the smartest and we both know that.

akira: What kind of new and original diss is that? Is it supposed to take us both down?

mokuren: I’m not the smartest and that's why I dance. In order to rid myself of what annoys me or gets in my way.

akira: So you're saying I should sing to rid myself of annoyances? What are you talking about? Are you trying to give me a pep talk? Cause I’ve already been given enough of those.

mokuren: I see, is it encouragement that you need then? Want me to pet your head like a child?

akira: Gross!

mokuren: If you need to be consoled in order to sing then I’ll call Princess over and have her take pity on you. You said she was in the hallway earlier right? I’ll go get her.

akira: Don’t.

mokuren: Princess is so kind, I’m sure she’ll hear you out and sympathise with you.

akira: Quit it already! I’m not that pathetic.

mokuren: Right? Sorry, I went too far with my joke.

akira: Huh? Wait no, you're scary when you actually apologise.

mokuren: However, if you won't sing properly then I won't waver. Because I’ve discovered that provoking you like this is effective.

akira: You really are demonic, it's scary!

–end

-

Chapter 12 SideB

-starless hallway-

sinju: Sorry for making you look for him with me, Saki-chan.

saki: It's fine. I wonder where Kasumi-san went though.

sinju: Doesn't seem like he's at Starless. Maybe he went out shopping? If that's the case, I wonder if he'll be back soon…

-kasumi walks by-

sinju: Ah, there he is! Kasumi!

-sinju walks over to put a hand on kasumi’s shoulder-

sinju: Kasumi, we’ve been looking for you. I need to talk to you about a shift tomorrow–

-kasumi slaps his hand away-

sinju: Woah…?

saki: Kasumi-san…?

sinju: My bad. Were you busy thinking about something? I’m sorry if you're busy!

kasumi: Ah… (realises what he did)

kasumi: S-sorry about that~ I’m just stressing because the stock order we need to submit today wasn't where it should be.

sinju: Is that so? Do you want me to help you find it?

kasumi: No no, it's fine. Nevermind that, what did you want to talk to me about?

sinju: It's about tomorrow's shift. Maica won't be able to make it so he asked if he could swap with you.

kasumi: Got it, just text me the details.

sinju: Sorry for the trouble, and thanks.

kasumi: If that's all, then please excuse me~!

-kasumi walks off-

sinju: Maybe I shouldn't have done that…

saki: Kasumi-san looked like a lot was on his mind, didn't he?

sinju: That's true. He must be really busy! And then I went ahead and burdened him with more without thinking. I’ll try and have his shift changed to me instead. We can't make it a habit to always just rely on Kasumi.

saki: That's true. I’ll try and help out where I can too. Let’s do our best, Sinju-san.

sinju: Thanks, Saki-chan!

–end

-

Chapter 13

-rehearsal room-

qu: Good morning, Mokuren. You're here early today.

mokuren: I happened to wake up early, and thanks to that the rehearsal room was free for me to use.

qu: I see, it's a lovely morning.

mokuren: Did you run here?

qu: Yeah. It’s nice to go for a bit of a longer run on mornings like this.

mokuren: Yeah, I can concentrate best in the morning. Want to use half of the room?

qu: Yes please. Thanks. Have you been staying hydrated? It looks like you’ve been laser focused on your dancing.

mokuren: …Good point. I didn't realise what time it was.

-time pass-

qu: How’s your team going?

mokuren: Not bad. It's fun when the centre is double casted. Kei and Kokuyou are completely different.

qu: I figured you'd say that. You always dance like you're at war. You're always fighting against whatever it is that you consider to be unfair.

mokuren: If something pisses me off and gets in my way then I just have to destroy it. I’ve gotten smarter and realised you can't just kick it all away.

qu: Hahah, I know.

mokuren: …….

qu: Mokuren? Is something the matter?

mokuren: What do you mean?

qu: No, it's just… You seem a little different from usual.

mokuren: What a strange thing to say. I’m the same as I always am.

qu: True. You're just dancing as you always have. That's why you kept searching for this place.

mokuren: Is something the matter, Qu?

qu: No, it's nothing. I was just thinking is all. Why are we using the story of ‘Paradise Lost’ now?

mokuren: Angels, Devils, Adam and Eve. They're all pretty overused characters.

qu: If we ignore that you're on different teams. You, Rindou and Mizuki are all playing the same role, aren't you? You're Satan, the enemy of the angels, whilst Rindou and Mizuki are Satan as the protagonist.

mokuren: Hmph, I’m well aware. I’ve already learnt how to dance their part. Join me in my practice, Qu. I’ll be your Satan.

qu: You’ve changed your interpretation again. Sounds like fun– I’ll join you then.

mokuren: I’m always ready to dance. Let's get started.

–end

-

Chapter 13 SideA

-starless office-

unei: Understood. Then I’ll book you in for the second rehearsal room on that day.

mokuren: Don't go forgetting it again.

unei: Of course not, leave it to me~! I’ll book it as soon as I finish up with these urgent documents. Oh, you can eat those cookies if you’d like. I bought them for you.

mokuren: Oh? How thoughtful of you. Were you planning to bribe me with cookies in exchange for making me wait?

unei: N-no I wa– Actually… Yes I was, please accept the cookies.

mokuren: You’ve gotten smarter too.

unei: Eheheh, why thank you. I’ll try and be even more helpful from now on!

mokuren: Hm.

unei: Hey! What kind of reaction is that? Isn’t this where you should say ‘do your best’ or ‘thanks for all the hard work’?

mokuren (mouth full of food): Dwo your best, fanks fwor all the hard work.

unei: You sound like you're reading a script! I booked the second room for you, ok?

mokuren: …… (finishes eating)

mokuren: Do your best. You’re always helping us out.

unei: Mokuren-san…! Is… Something the matter? Were the cookies no good?

mokuren: Just take the compliment. You're hard to deal with.

–end

-

Chapter 13 SideB

-rehearsal room-

saki: Hello–

rindou: Please, just give me ten, no, just five more minutes.

qu: Even if you say that, your allotted time is over. Plus, you're looking pale, I think it's best you go rest.

rindou: I’m fine. So for just a little longer– Oh, Saki-san, I didn't notice you there. Sorry for causing a fuss.

saki: Oh no, it's fine. Sorry for intruding.

qu: Don't worry about it, we're done here anyways. I’ll be taking the rehearsal room now, Rindou. Go and rest, ok? Oh I know, how about you get Saki to lend you her lap as a pillow? You can go lay down in the break room.

saki: Wha? A lap pillow? In the break room no less??

rindou: Huh? No, I couldn't ask for that… 

rindou: I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll go and cool my head.

-rindou leaves-

qu: Jeez, what a handful. Thanks for showing up, I couldn't get him to listen to me. I know he has a lot on his plate concerning the show but he seems way too stressed.

saki: I wonder if something happened.

qu: Ah, sorry, my bad. I shouldn't be talking to you about this. I think the nerves are just getting to him, he's the centre of his team after all. Mizuki is too of course, but he's not really someone that works cooperatively.

Next time you see Rindou looking tired or like he's pushing himself too much, could you stop him for me? Even if you have to do it by offering a lap pillow.

saki: Ok! Wait I mean, I’m not sure if I can follow through with the lap pillow but I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him.

qu: Thank you. I’ll leave it to you.

–end

-

Chapter 14

-outside starless, early morning-

saki: Oh, Gui-san. Hello–

-gui steps away-

saki: (Hm? Did he not hear me?)

sinju: Something the matter, Saki-chan? Oh, Gui’s here too. Hey Gui! Good morning!

-gui steps away-

sinju: Ah, he kept walking! Let's follow him!

saki: O-ok!

-time pass, alleyway-

sinju: He went that way. Can you keep running, Saki-chan?

saki: Yeah, I’m fine– Ah.

-saki trips-

sinju: Crap!

-gui appears and catches her-

gui: Watch your step, Saki.

saki: Thank you…

sinju: Sorry, Saki-chan. I made you overdo it.

saki: It’s ok, I’m sorry for tripping.

sinju: So then, um…

gui: ……..

saki: ……..

sinju: Wait, why were even running after Gui in the first place?

saki: Um well, I called out to Gui-san but I thought he mustn't have heard me.

gui: …I heard you. But I didn't know how to greet you.

sinju: Why not?

gui: I disobeyed Kei’s orders, so… I’m not sure what to do.

saki: I see, you must be feeling a bit lost.

sinju: I get it! That kind of thing happens all the time. It's not good to ignore someone when they greet you though. Did you not want to say anything?

gui: I wanted to greet her.

sinju: Then you should do it. So, does Kei already know that you disobeyed him?

gui: He knows.

sinju: Then he's probably already forgiven you, I wouldn't worry about it.

gui: But I… I didn't…

sinju: I don't really understand what's going on, but I think that there are times when you don't have to listen to someone’s orders. If you think that it isn't right, then you don't have to do it. Right, Saki-chan? We're all only human after all.

saki: I agree. Sometimes we just need to listen to our hearts.

gui: Listen to… our hearts?

sinju: You wanted to greet us, right? So you should.

gui: I wanted to… Yeah, I did. So I should? Ok. Saki, um, hello. Sinju too, hello.

–end

-

Chapter 14 SideA

-alleyway-

master: Kei.

kei: …Master. Why are you here– No, what is it that you want?

master: You owe me a favour, you haven't forgotten have you?

-flashback, alleyway-

kei: It's me. Why are you calling?

master: Kokuyou is traveling with the young woman.

kei: I'm not happy about it, but not knowing Kokuyou's location is the only way to protect her. It's only for a few days, I can put up with leaving Saki to him for that long.

master: They're getting pretty close to that laboratory, are you still going to say you don't care?

kei: What? Close to that place... Why would he go there, of all places… No, for now it is still safer than her being here. Understood, I'm grateful for the update.

master: You owe me for this.

-end flashback-

kei: I have not forgotten. Thanks to you I was able to deal with the situation before it reached her. So, let me hear it. What is it that you wish for me to do in return?

master: Nothing for now. You don't have the power to do anything right now. You're aware of it too aren't you? You’ve spread yourself too thin. You're a performer. Not a supervisor or commanding officer. Your goal– Your aim should be just that. It shouldn't be anything else.

kei: …I am aware.

master: You haven't changed. That really is your fatal flaw as a performer. It's because you couldn't rid yourself of it that you're walking down your current path.

kei: I cannot walk the same path as you, and I do not intend to.

master: I know.

kei: I am grateful to you, Master. You taught me how to survive. The time I spent looking up to you as my teacher has made me the man that I am today.

master: You were an awful student. You acted cocky and always tried your best to take advantage of me. But worst of all, you never knew when to give up. Even now, that aspect of you is the same. People who possess a goal cannot live for anything other than fulfilling it. You were like that from the start, you really haven't changed at all from back then.

master: Prepare yourself, Kei. And remember what your goal is. That is all you are able to do right now. –I will ask that favour of you soon.

-master leaves-

kei: To think I’ve made enough of a blunder to make him scold me face to face again. My only goal– My wish… No, I’m still far too lacking to be able to obtain this desire of mine.

–end

-

Chapter 14 SideB

-park, evening-

zakuro: My oh my, a familiar face has appeared before me. Looking up to the sky whilst deep in thought.

rindou: Zakuro…

zakuro: Is something on your mind?

rindou: Yes… I mean, no, it's nothing. What a coincidence it is to see you here. Are you on a walk as well?

zakuro: I suppose I am. If you consider wandering around with no destination in mind going for a stroll then yes.

rindou: I think it counts.

zakuro: I’ve seen you with this expression once before. Your brows were deeply knit together and your complexion as pale as a ghost. 

rindou: …When was this?

zakuro: That time I saw you at old Starless. Right, it's something I only remembered recently too.

rindou: That's a strange way of phrasing that. Are you saying you only remembered it now?

zakuro: I remember at the time you told me that you had a headache. Do you have one now too?

rindou: Well, I just got news that someone I knew passed away…

zakuro: Oh my, the passing of a friend. I am most sorry to hear that, my condolences. Were they someone close to you?

rindou: No, they were nothing more than an acquaintance. They were a journalist that worked for some magazine. Honestly I wasn't fond of him, I found him annoying and didn't want him to contact me anymore… But I still…

rindou: …… (sad sigh)

zakuro: This is just my personal opinion here, but isn't that a good thing then? He wasn't someone close, rather it sounds like he was nothing but a nuisance to you. In that case I think it's fine for you to think ‘I’m glad he’s gone.’

rindou: That's– There's no way I could think about it like that. A person has lost their life.

zakuro: Yes, indeed indeed, very true. That right there is one of your good points, Rindou. By the way, do you happen to know what the cause of death was?

rindou: He was involved in an accident. I heard from his magazine company that it happened in November of last year. The last time I spoke with him was in October, and then, not long after that he…

rindou: Ugh…

zakuro: You’ll give yourself a headache if you think about it too much. Your face has grown even paler too. There's no need for you to think about it that deeply. If it was an accident that killed him then there's nothing we could've done anyway.

rindou: That may be true… I’m going to head back to Starless. I need to perform today.

–end

(to be continued)

[roninreverie]

Why Ahsoka's Thrawn isn't actually the real Thrawn

A theory by me, which I am going to be so annoying about for the foreseeable future, so let me just try to get most of it out of my system right here and now. 😅

---

So we all know by now that Thrawn is revving up to be the BIG BAD for the live action Star Wars series tying The Mandalorian into Ahsoka and working off of the Rebels finale.

I also remember hearing old rumors that they were going to be pulling a lot from legends lore for this show, and that Timothy Zahn was not really involved at all with the show itself. (Feel free to update me otherwise though.)

Now, the fact that they're calling him the "Heir to the Empire" in the teaser trailer is already a pretty decent confirmation that the legends lore nods are in full swing. So this raises red flags for Thrawn's character, who, as we know from the newer novels, has a bit more motivation to him than his legends counterpart, and while the two are not wholly dissimilar, there have been a few important updates to his character since the early 90's.

Not to mention, I've heard a lot of people saying "If Zahn isn't involved, it wouldn't really BE Thrawn, right?"

EXACTLY!

I have a very strong gut feeling that this Thrawn isn't actually going to be the Mitth'raw'nuruodo that we expect him to be, and here's why:

Evidence #1: The Beskar Spear

In Chapter 13 of Mando, we're introduced to Morgan Elsbeth who was apparently working so closely with Thrawn that Ahsoka Tano shows up to battle her and demand information on his wearabouts.

Do you really believe Grand Admiral Thrawn would think very highly of a woman who had tarnished the artistic craftsmanship and history of Mandalorian armor just to forge it into a spear?

Lest we forget how upset he got at Captain Slavin just for badmouthing Hera's kalikori in Rebels?

But Thrawn is a big-picture kind of guy, so swallowing his opinions on the dismissal to the value of art isn't necessarily out of character for him, and I'm not sure if they ever specified it was Elsbeth who had done the re-forging in the first place.

Moving on!

---

Evidence #2 Legends Lore and Fake Thrawns

There have been many versions of Thrawn since his creation in Zahn’s original trilogy/duology series, but did you know that there have also been multiple Thrawns existing in the Star Wars Legends universe?

I won't go into too much detail, but considering the Empire tried to keep Thrawn at arms reach up until he earned his Admiral status, and then some… they had quite a few backup plans to make sure the Chiss stuck around even after his “supposed” death.

Between Moff Vilim Disra hiring a con-artist actor named Flim, to fake the role and trick the galaxy... or the literal clone(s) who were set on backup timers and programmed with all of Thrawn's memories just in case of the Admiral’s untimely demise... it’s not as wild an assumption as you might think that there could be a few faux Thrawn’s roaming about in new canon. 

And we have been getting a lot of interesting nods to clones lately in the Bad Batch, especially concerning Mount Tantiss and the planet Wayland/Weyland.

Just some food for thought.

---

Evidence #3: Thrawn’s Death and Continuity

Though Legends and Canon Thrawn do have some similarities and ways to tie together their two universes, there have been updates to his story that cannot be ignored in the new canon, such as his inevitable death.

In legends, Thrawn was killed at the hands of his own Noghri bodyguard, Rukh, who was formally loyal to the Chiss until he learned that Thrawn had not been helping with the ecological disasters of his home planet as he'd promised, but instead had been purposefully keeping them present so that the Noghri people would remain indebted to the Empire. Discovering Thrawn's lies, Rukh stabs him through the chest in the ever-popular “it was so artistically done” scene, thus ending the deceitful Grand Admiral’s life in the old trilogy. 

Unfortunately for the latest iteration of Rukh, Garazeb Orrelios made sure that his new canon self's death was probably not the sort he would be able to get back up and brush off in a surprising twist down the road. 

This left the new-canon Thrawn without an assassin destined to carry out his death, and what many newer fans hoped would mean some sort of redemption arc, given the changes to the character since his reintroduction in Rebels.

I think it can also be stated that the newer version of Thrawn is a bit "kinder" for lack of a better word than his legend's self. Not enough to negate his antagonistic nature in Rebels of course, but maybe just not to the sinister degree as his past counterpart.

---

So in closing, I am going to be watching and taking notes, excited to see where this new "Thrawn" in the Ahsoka series, Mando, and heck... maybe even Bad Batch-- will play out.

I am going to be constantly thinking he's a fake until absolutely proven otherwise, hoping that the Thrawn I've spent all these years building up in my head is off saving the Chiss-Ascendancy with Ezra Bridger and Eli Vanto... and getting something of a redemption arc now that he's apart from the Empire.

Newer Thrawn never struck me as an irredeemable villain, especially in the novels, but I guess that's up to time to tell for sure?

I'm not going to let this theory ruin my expectations for the show and the character, of course, but I'll be super hype if this is the direction they've chosen to go with him.

Thanks for reading, if you did, and feel free to keep the discussion going in the replies/reblogs if you have anything to add!

[thespiritssaidso]

Call Me Cinnamon

Chapter 4: Cracking Open a Cold One With the Boys (and Juliet) (and Chief Vick)

Notes: This chapter took way too long. As did making the chapter name. Please be proud of me, I worked hard on this.

—————

The walk to the morgue was mostly uneventful. Unless you count Cinnamon bouncing around from reflection to reflection, talking to herself as eventful.

Shawn listened as she rabbited on, mostly a mix of complaining and lamenting over ‘skipping the best stuff’. He could only guess what that meant. Maybe they were talking about cases that he and Gus had taken before they had shown up.

“-can’t believe I missed all of 2008! Those were- wait. No no no! That was when Lassie- when he- he had like, been convicted of murder. Dammit, that one was my favorite.”

Yeah, definitely talking about cases. Although why she had favorites was beyond him. Of course, Shawn wasn’t exactly one to talk. He himself definitely had some he really quite liked. But his favorites were the fun ones. Like when he and Gus discovered a dinosaur.

Cinnamon was going on about their more gruesome cases, such as the time they were trapped in Camp Tikihama. Most people wouldn’t think of having favorite cases they weren’t even part of. Especially ones that weren’t exactly… the most kid friendly. Then again, Cinnamon wasn’t most people.

"-and the one with Mr. Yang! Ughhh why did all the good ones have to be in late 2008 and early 2009?” She stopped and pondered for a bit. “I mean, not that the bigfoot case wasn’t good, or the haunted condo. Those were great. But still!”

Shawn winced a bit at the mention of the woman who had messed with him and his friends, but managed to tune out her ramblings and focused on catching up to Chief Vick and the detectives. Gus was close on his heels, trying to get him to slow down.

He was taking the time in between where he was and the morgue to collect himself and put on his regular joking persona (mostly) everyone knew and loved.

Gus was right earlier, Shawn had been a little off his game; reference-wise. No, not just a little. A bunch. The whole new-person-spirit-thing-in-his-body would do that to anyone.

But he was back now — hopefully — ready to lighten the mood with a well timed witty one liner. Preferably while standing over a body that did not look like the spirit-thing-in-his-body, Cinnamon.

Sadly, this was one of many instances where Shawn didn't get what he wanted.

"Amber Channing." With a flourish, the coroner, Woody, pulled the sheet back to reveal the upper portion of said person.

Gus turned around at the sight of the body, taking a deep breath. In the reflection of the shiny examination table, Cinnamon did the same, making a small noise of discomfort.

Without missing a beat, Shawn let out a low whistle. “Wow. I think she took the saying ‘be more open minded’ a little too seriously.” He heard Cinnamon and Woody laugh at the quip, and the others let out varying levels of groans.

Shawn was deflecting, of course. Seeing Cin- no, Amber, on the table while she was standing right next to him was a little freaky. Just a bit.

Amber's features were eerily similar to Cinnamon's. Same freckles. Same green eyes — although Amber's were more cloudy, death taking away all vibrancy from the irises. Some of the traits were a bit off, however. Amber's nose had more of a ski slope shape to it, the jawline was sharper, cheekbones clearer in definition. And of course, the very obvious crack in the skull that spanned from the left eyebrow and disappeared somewhere inside the mess of hair. It was unnerving to see.

Shawn took a quick glance at Cinn- Amber. Amber's head, trying to pick out any kind of detail that didn't look right.

Fractured skull, obviously. A bazillion cuts scattered around from flying through the windshield — no bruising though, which was strange. His eyes wandered toward the side of the head, and saw something nearby the ear…

There. Right there. On the left side of her head. A small discoloration, almost completely hidden by the thick red hair — yet another similarity between Amber and Cinnamon, except Amber’s was longer and practically spilled all over the examination table.

"She looks so young." Juliet looked sadly at Amber’s body.

Speaking of Cinnamon...

"What- I’m 19, I’m an adult! I’m not that young, geez."

Shawn snorted, and muttered under his breath, "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

"Something funny, Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn looked up and saw everyone was staring at him. "Oh! Uhhhh, I just remembered a joke that Gus told me on the way here, actually. Three redheads walk into a pub in Ireland-”

"That's alright, Mr. Spencer-"

Woody cut in. "Oh, I don't know, I kind of want to hear it!"

Lassiter turned away from the body to face the strange man. “I’m sorry, you’re our new coroner?”

“Yup! Woodrow Strode, at your service.” He extended a hand to shake. Lassiter just stared at it, choosing to keep his arms folded. “Alllright then.” He turned back to the body. "Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head."

Chief Vick gave the coroner a look of confusion, and eyed the cracked and jagged fissure in Amber’s skull. "Yes, we can see that, Mr. Strode-"

"No no no, that happened post-mortem! The real killing blow was-"

Shawn interrupted with an "OW!", feigning a hit on his left temple. "Oh, I can feel it!" He fell into Gus, who almost fell over along with him, and managed to shoved him off. Shawn stumbled back to his earlier position.

He straightened up, hand still covering his head. “I’m sensing she was hit on the side, right…” using his other hand, he brushed away the hair covering Amber’s bruise. “…there!”

"That's right! I almost missed it, but there's a nice clean hit right over here." Woody reached over and, when Shawn pulled back his hand, finished moving the hair out of the way, revealing a large discolored patch of skin, the only apparent bruise on her. "Her hair was practically a perfect cover." He kept staring at the hair, and sighed wistfully. “Wish I had hair like that.”

“Uhhhmm… thanks? I guess? I don’t- I don’t know if that’s like… well, it’s Woody. It’s fine, I guess.”

Woody noticed the stares he was getting from the group and continued. “A wound like this had to have been made by small, blunt, heavy object, most likely swung-”

“Which means we have a murder on our hands.” Juliet concluded.

“Figures, since we get one at least once a week.” Lassiter nod-tilted his head. “Although two completely unrelated murders after only a few days is new.”

Shawn clapped his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. First: Gus, remind me to never say ‘Here’s the plan’ ever again. Second: we need to ask her parents if they know what Cinnamon was doing before she had her ‘car accident’.” Shawn looked around and noticed everyone was looking at him a bit funny. “…What? Is there something on my face?”

“Shawn, you do know that only the Mayor, her father, actually called her that, right?” Juliet asked.

Shawn froze. “Uhmmmm yeah, yeah. But I just- just talked to her- her spirit, mhm. She said she’s cool with us calling her Cinnamon. Also, she requests that she have a different color cloth covering her. Perhaps a nice shade of green. Chartreuse, maybe.”

“That is an awful shade of green, Shawn.”

“Scratch that. Chartreuse is an awful shade of green. Her words, not mine.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes at Shawn’s quips. He motioned for Juliet to follow him out, which she did.

“Well. I think that’s our cue to leave.”

———

At the blueberry, Shawn and Gus started buckling up. Cinnamon, of course, did not need to. The perks of being a ghost.

As Gus finally settled into the driver’s seat, he turned to Shawn. “Okay man. Now tell me. What the heck has been going on with you? You’ve been acting weird. And don’t use your ‘spirits’ defense on me to excuse you calling Amber ‘Cinnamon’. It worked on the others back there, but I know you’re not psychic. So what’s the deal?”

Before Shawn could say anything, the radio crackled to life. "Well, maybe in the meantime, wait and seeee-"

"There's your answer, Gus." He listened as Cinnamon started singing along, watching from the corner of his eyes as she mimed the guitar riffs. "We love the all, the allll of you!"

While Gus was momentarily distracted by the radio, Shawn took that moment to say, “How about this, Gus. We go to the mayor, ask some questions, get some answers, snoop around when no one’s looking, maybe convince him to pass a few laws I’ve got written down-” he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a tiny notebook, “-here, and when that’s done we grab some jerk chicken and talk about it at the office. How’s that for a plan?”

Gus thought about it. “I could go for some jerk chicken.”

Shawn took that as a confirmation. He leaned back and yawned involuntarily. His eyes drooped slightly as Gus pulled the blueberry out, head nodding before snapping himself out of it.

Gus noticed. “Bad sleep last night?”

Shawn laughed humorlessly. “Try none.”

Cinnamon stopped humming for a moment to say, “Oof. Sorry, I guess.”

“Nah, you’re good…”

“What?” Gus gave him a strange look.

Shawn realized he said that out loud. “Sorry man, I’m really tired.”

“Just take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Shawn didn’t have the energy to make a smart remark like he usually would. He did manage to say to Cinnamon, “If you play anything punk, I’m calling Father Westley.”

“I can’t control the- what does Father Westley-?”

That was the last thing Shawn heard before he passed out, head resting comfortably against the headrest.

———

The sound of wind rustling the grass…

Birds tittering in the distance…

Grasshoppers chirping somewhere below…

Blades of grass tickling his face…

Small mounds of dirt poking into his back…

The smell of fresh air filling his lungs…

What the…

Where was he?

He cracked an eye open, and saw-

BUMP

Shawn jolted awake, and found himself in the seat of the blueberry once more. He looked back and saw that Gus had hit a pothole in the road.

“Sorry, Shawn-” Gus stopped himself mid sentence when he saw Shawn’s face. “You good?”

He shook his head, clearing out any remaining sleep fuzziness. “Uhh, yeah, I’m fine. Weird dream.”

Shawn rubbed his back, where the dirt mounds had dug into him. Not a single imprint on him or the seat that might have induced the sensation. He tried listening to see if any of their surrounding sounds had influenced his dream. The windows to the blueberry were rolled up, so all he heard was the radio — which Cinnamon had kept turned on and was currently playing something that was surprisingly more relaxing.

“-all you’ll see, is a self reflected inner sadness…”

Shawn rubbed his eyes, then looked out the window as they cruised along, cars and buildings zipping by.

What kind of dream was that?

———

Notes: god, writing this chapter was like pulling fucking teeth. Hopefully the next chapter isn’t as bad. (Famous last words)

Songs used: In the Meantime by Spacehogs and It’s Summertime by The Flaming Lips

Beginning: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

ao3 link

[bathsaltsmcgee]

Lore in the Merch

Okay, so as I'm sure everyone has probably already heard, the latest line of merch from Vivziepop just dropped this morning on Shark Robot, and as I was perusing the list, figuring out exactly what it was that I was going to snag for myself, I found something that I thought was just a hair interesting.

Okay, so in the t-shirt line, there are a bunch of glow in the dark tees featuring various hazbin and helluva characters in the style of tarot cards, which were, to be fair, exceptionally neat.

And yes, I've already ordered one.

However, as I was admiring the designs later in the evening to make sure I got the one I wanted, just in case I missed any, I noticed that there were little numbers on each of the designs.

Numbers for tarot cards.

One quick trip to google later, I realized they were all for corresponding tarot cards from the major arcana, which, admittedly, does make a great deal of sense, all things considered.

It would be a little weird if they were supposed to be tarot cards and didn't have the numbers in the design.

That, I will assent.

In any case, I did a little digging and I found that Beelzebub was the sun, Blitz was the moon, Charlie and Vaggie were the strength card, Human Loona was the chariot, and Alastor was the devil.

And while my first response was 'yeah, that tracks', when I started to think about it, to really think about it, I realized that perhaps there was more here than just a funny little reference to a tarot card deck.

For example, Stolas got the star card for his tarot card number, and if one digs into the deeper meaning of what the star represents in the arcana, there are a number of parallels with his story and character that tie in with the star card. Finding new meaning, holding a new sense of self, discovering a new sense of purpose, getting away from your crazy ass ex-wife, just to name a few.

So, it makes sense that he'd get the star card.

Furthermore, Angel Dust got the hanged man card for his number, which also makes sense because, from my understanding, it's all about taking pause to reevaluate your strategy on life and consider whether or not this is the right way to go before taking the next step. 'The thinking that got into this mess won't get you out of it and it's time for a change' sort of card. So, considering his horrible life as a pornstar/ prostitute/ stripper and wanting to get away from it all by making a split second decision and submitting to the Happy Hotel for redemption treatment instead of just continuing on the way he's been would be more than enough to qualify him for the Hanged Man.

So, what does the card for Alastor mean?

Sure, it's easy to write it off with a 'well, he's the Devil of the show' sort of thing, but I suspect it has far more to do with his own way of thinking than it does anything else. I'm not an expert on tarot, but from what I can glean, the devil card has something to do with being trapped or restricted or held back by something that keeps you from being your best self; self-imposed limitations, or a lack of power, or feeling like you're not in control, or there's some external force that making someone feel like they're powerless to affect their situation, so they might as well not even try to change it, which, honestly, doesn't sound like Alastor at all, given what little we know about him thus far.

it sounds like something he might inflict, sure, but not something he'd be going through himself personally.

However, given the nature of the other cards and how those arcanas are linked to the individual character's arcs, logic dictates that the symbolism of the arcana are directly tied to the characters and their struggles.

So, what gives here?

Is Alastor really trapped a prison of his own making?

Does he actually feel powerless about his situation, which is why he outrightly dismissed Charlie's redemption scheme because, in his mind, it's far too late to change and there's no undoing what's been done?

Is that what's really going on here?

Or am I overthinking things again?

Well, either way, they hid lore in the merch.

I just wanted to point that out.

Furthermore, if they actually did foreshadow future character developments within the tarot card shirts for a show that has yet to premiere, I will officially be impressed.

That was clever.

[bnhaobservation]

Why does Endeavor keep freezing when it comes to saving his family?

Hum...

... we've 2, maybe 3, stretching 4 cases in which this canonically happens.

Enji gives his explanations for each of them.

1) Chap 251, he froze and failed to save Natsuo.

Enji's explanation is:

‘Warukatta…! Isshun kangaete shimatta ore ga tasuketara konosaki omae wa ore ni nani mo ienaku natte shimau node wanai ka to’ 「悪かった…! 一瞬考えてしまった俺が助けたらこの先おまえは俺に何も言えなくなってしまうのではないかと」 “It was my bad…! I thought for a moment that if I helped you, you might not be able to say anything to me from now on.”

The implication seems to be he wants Natsuo to continue telling straight to his face how much he messed up but that, if he had saved Natsuo, Natsuo would have felt obliged to keep his feelings for himself.

2) Chap 293. Tōya is trying to cremate Shōto (and himself).

There are two implication here, the first is what Tōya says, Enji is broken, discovering the truth was traumatic to him.

Even though he said originally he couldn't believe his son died, at the same time Enji can't believe his son is Dabi.

It's not just that he has grown to accept the idea Tōya died, the real problem is who Tōya became (and how it was due to him). I've discussed about it in another post but having a family member who's a murderer it's the end for a Japanese family.

Remember how Gran Torino was angry because Shigaraki was 'trampling all over Shimura's memory'?

That's why, even if Shimura Nana is dead, it's still socially terrible she has a relative who's a murderer.

But there's also a second implication done later on in chap 300.

'Ore wa ikinobi temo... ENDEAVOR wa shinda. Tairyō satsujin-sha (read: musuko) to tatakaenai.' 「俺は生き延びても... エンデヴァーは死んだ。大量殺人者（むすこ）と戦えない」 "Even if I survive...Endeavor is dead. I can't fight against a mass murderer (read: my son)"

What's the problem here?

Enji was raised into the idea that Heroes fight Villains, there's no something like 'saving Villains'. Heroes normally shouldn't kill Villains but considering how Hawks went for the kill with Twice and how Enji tried his hardest to murder Shigaraki and he probably wasn't the only one.

When they find Shigaraki, Mirko attacks the tube saying Shigaraki can't be released into the world, then urges the others to finish Shigaraki and Garaki off, claiming they can't let Shigaraki wake up.

When X-less discovers Shigaraki isn't breathing and his heart isn't beating and Garaki explains the capsule would have revived him, they don't try to revive him themselves giving him CPR.

Present Mic tells X-less to take Shigaraki away, but they are clearly in no hurry to give him medical care, X-less even waste time thinking he has to destroy the machines around them.

In order to save Shōto Enji should fight (and likely kill) Tōya... and he can't. He doesn't want to hurt his son, he doesn't want to attack him with his fire aware that Tōya isn't even fire resistant. He can't think any other way to deal with Tōya and he just can't bring himself to attack it, we'll see it even when Tōya is threatening to nuke Japan.

But he can't think of anything else he could do that could stop the situation, like, for example, trying to talk to Touya. After all, he never did it and he has no idea how to deal with his son turned Villain.

Villains were just something Heroes would beat.

Hence he froze.

We've two more possible cases, though in them he didn't exactly froze... or, if he did, we don't know about it.

3) Tōya 'died' because Enji avoided going to see him, and therefore got on Sekoto Peak too late to save him.

Enji's explanation is:

'...Maki wo kubete shimau dake da to... Iya... Nanto koe wo kaketara ī no ka wakaranakattanda 「...薪をくべてしまうだけだと... いや... 何と声を掛けたらいいのかわからなかったんだ」 "...I thought I would just end up burning more firewood (inside him)... no... I didn't know what to say."

The whole 'burning more firewood' implies that he believed he would just encourage the fire inside Tōya of which Tōya kept talking about through the two chapters, in short that he would encourage him to continue... but then he admits the more relevant reason, he has no idea what to say.

Enji (and Rei) never knew what to tell to Tōya beyond stop, they didn't want to tackle their responsibilities in Tōya's situation nor wanted to offer real support, they just wanted him to accept what they told him and stop. Hence Enji doesn't face his son but avoids him, telling himself this is for the better.

4) While the story doesn't really tell us if Enji froze, the implication of the scene seems to be he didn't act when his father fought a Villain, but remained there frozen on the scene.

It's something I've discussed in the past here and it's not super well explained by Horikoshi but it can be the root that explains all the other times Enji remains frozen.

Enji is not a natural born Hero because, differently from Midoriya, he doesn't have inside himself the instinct to save people even when the situation could be fatal to him.

He does it out of duty, raging against himself to give himself courage but, when push comes to shove and a situation becomes emotionally very difficult for him, he doesn't want to face it and freeze.

It's not so much the fear of death, he doesn't hesitate at all when facing Shigaraki even though the latter could murder him, but the fear of being emotionally hurt.

Even All for One will try to exploit it by attacking him on an emotional level.

When his family and his emotions toward his family are on the table he doesn't know how to handle them and his option is to avoid things, which is something he'll admit through the story.

Enji is an evolving character so ultimately he'll face things but I think it's a good guess to assume that the times he froze were due to this.

Of course though, since there's not a canon explanation, this is just my guess and I might be wrong. Still thank you for your ask!

[benjaminthewolf]

Wolven Storm (Remastered)

Been giving some old stories remasters recently. "Prey saved from elements" is still one of my favorite tropes.

****

     Your bitter, icy, ragged breath shakily shudders in and out of your frigid, frost-glazed lungs, as your cornea-searing, visceral, salty tears begin to rapidly freeze over your face. The Snowy Isles had, indeed, been known to get undoubtedly horrendous blizzards around this time of the year, but they had never, ever, EVER been THIS bad before! 

     Hesitantly risking opening your eyes after a couple of seconds just shivering, (there was, after all, a very real possibility that doing so could cause your poor, rawed, positively depleted eyes to become frozen solid instantly) you are, in fact, only greeted with what you had ultimately gone into the perilous commitment expecting, at the furthest end of it all. White. Pure white. Nowhere, no one, nothing. Just white.

     Your stunted, frail, meager, jittering body did what little it could at this point to keep itself vitally chugging along in spite of everything within current reality. You had practically, yet staggeredly, buried yourself underneath the snow in keeping to this instinctive task, reasoning that at least because you were mostly out of the wind, you could ignore the windchill to some degree. Still, with the many frozen layers currently rubbing against your stiffening being and paralyzing its skin to the touch, you only knew, upon a visceral twinge of your heart, that unless you were discovered soon, your heart would be doomed to slow ‘till it stopped, just as the hands of time would cease to turn their hands around your poor being.

      As your decidedly non-conscious body risks an utterly heat-and-energy-sapping shiver, you can feel yourself beginning to lose consciousness. One, final tear finds the resolve it desperately needs to roll all the way down your scrunched-up cheek and into the snow, for you now knew that, as all the available evidence made it blaringly obvious in your mind, you were never to regain consciousness again.

****

     To be entirely honest, I wasn’t exactly able to see much through the brutally whitened, blistering storm myself, either. 

     I could, however, smell. And because of that, I could track. And, because of THAT, I could most certainly tell that someone had passed this way by before me, although their footsteps had obviously been covered up by the ever-layering, brutal  nature of the snow. No civilization at all existed anywhere even near this blistering area, as it was just a huge nature preserve, and at this stage of the horrid storm, if anyone that was not adapted to the cold like I was just so happened to have gotten trapped within its unforgiving, freezing suspension, their chances for survival were indeed, all but none. 

     That, you see, is exactly why I had chosen to come here, and it did now seem to be the case that my searching had not been in vain.

     Only your head was still visible above the snow, (as much as anything was visible at all in these conditions), but that was all that I needed to be able to check if I wasn’t already too late. Thoroughly sniffing over your form with my powerful wolf nose, (which was actually just about as big as your head, surprisingly enough), I am not able to detect any of the distinctive whiffs of rigor mortis or decomposition upon it, and, after gently placing an ear up to your relatively small, frigid  neck, a pulse is just barely audible. It had slowed to a near fatal level at this point, however, and the clock was ticking quite fast.

     As a result of my examinations, I knew the only option now was to get you somewhere warm. And I also knew, quite well, as a matter of fact, that the only two places I had at my current disposal that could accomplish that feat you so needed, was, indeed, my maw, and, far more practically, my stomach.  

     Steadily unveiling onto your unconscious being, my pink, slimy, smooth, yet heated tongue, I allow a few heaves from my lungs to brush some warm air onto your body before I begin to stroke the hot muscle all across your numbed form, getting it positively soaked in my warm, sticky, and thus preparing you for your lengthy journey up ahead.

     The moment your being is doused thoroughly within my fluids, I gently dig you out from the compounding feet of layered snow you are trapped beneath, before carefully maneuvering my lower mandible underneath you, and gently lifting you up into my maw. The snow I inevitably end up scooping in alongside you almost instantly melts from the heat, as front after front of warm air is brushed up onto your being. At last, I lock my jaws tight around you, not daring to allow even the most miniscule sliver of cold breach inside. Now, you are safe in my maw.

     I proceed to gently wrap my cushiony tongue around your form, so the sensation of physically touching a warm object could help your rigid skin slowly recover. I swish you around between my cheeks for a while, before eventually unwrapping the slick, smooth muscle from your being, and slipping the thing underneath you, so that you may be gently pushed towards the back of the maw, and into my wide open gullet as such.

     The top of your head gently brushes against my uvula as you are carefully lodged into my gullet. Tilting my head back slightly as I initiate the tight swallow, I am able as such to feel your being getting squeezed deep into my esophagus; a natural, small bulge swiftly forming inside my throat as I do.

     Your currently limp, unconscious body has absolutely zero ability to resist as you are rhythmically kneaded and squelched down by the cushiony walls of the throat.With each pulse shoving you further and further into my form, more and more heat gradually replaces the horrid brutal, freezing cold that had once gravely threatened your body. Now, however, you were safe, and as your body reaches the lower esophageal sphincter, you are gently squeezed out into my stomach, the gurgling, churning organ expanding and contracting its walls all around you as the warm, harmless liquids continue to splash and slosh their heat upon your unmoving being.

     Your head now lying comfortably against the squishy, flexible walls, I casually let out a satisfied sigh as I am able to feel your form settling down within my guts. Now, I had to bring you back to civilization. And thus, forwards, within the blinding, stiffening, brutal, vicious storm I must go.

****

          The very first thing you were able to detect upon regaining a slight bit of consciousness was the deep, echoing pounding of my heartbeat, a baseline which was swiftly followed up by the gurgling and growling constant melody of the churning stomach around you, as you begin to shuffle about within your current state of conscious being.

     Slowly opening your eyes in order to confirm you weren’t dead, your gaze naturally picks up the soft, shifting, pink walls of the organ around you, though at this point you didn’t exactly know you were in an organ, much less a stomach, specifically. You lightly brush a hand against the slick, goopy walls. You steadily heave in and out a breath of air. It all seemed too real to be some sort of near-death experience hallucination. And it was right then and there that the reality of the situation set in. You now knew you were alive, and the storm had not, in fact, killed you like you were so sure it would’ve back there in the snow.

     You weren’t exactly sure how you had ended up here, or what this place even was, but, for the time being, that really did not matter at all. All that did matter was that you were alive, and would therefore live to grace civilization once again. You give a couple of gentle pats onto the warm, snug chamber, before laying your head back down, and snuggling yourself deep into the walls.

     I, on the outside, could sense all this happening in real time, but I chose not to speak up for the moment being. You had already gone through enough already. The initial instinctive panic you would inevitably experience over hearing that you were currently inside of a stomach was most certainly not something I wanted to put you through at this point.

     Thus, as all four of my padded wolf paws continued to make print after print within the rapidly gathering, blinding snow, I could only give a subtle smile to myself, knowing that my humble search today had, indeed, saved a life.