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svkahug · 2 months

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once more to see you

[chapter three; ao3 link]

tags: slow burn, injury, forced proximity, quarry!reader, hurt/comfort

summary: On the run with the Empire on your heels, a bounty hunter seems to be your only option and your best bet to getting back home.

a/n: heard someone say tumblr has no fluff well i shall provide

---

Space is so… quiet . So empty. Sometimes there’s not another breathing creature for miles. Then you hit a planet. You’ve tallied all the planets you’ve been on recently as the Mandalorian goes on the search, relentless. Yavin, Geonosis, Lothal. Desolate and lifeless planets. But you never see them. The Mandalorian isn’t exactly a tour guide but he does talk to you more often as you strap yourself onto the co-pilot seat beside him. Him and the kid are gone for days at a time, no longer than a week.

You eat, you sleep, you dream. You’ve snooped around every nook and cranny of the Razor Crest. It’s not as if he’s going to pop out of nowhere and chastise you. You can probably traverse this ship from memory alone.

You find what you assume is his bed. But you don’t sleep in it. Not even on the days where he’s gone. It’s just as small and cramped as the ship and you simply can’t believe anyone even uses that thing.

The worry that he might have perished out there crosses your mind. But you couldn’t let it get to you. He uses the ship's emergency comms to check in at night. Sometimes he doesn’t.

You shuffle through the supplies, you use the fresher, you stare outside the windows of the cockpit then you sleep on the floor. Until on the nights that you don’t. You think it started when they left for Lothal. They were gone for four days and you barely slept a wink.

It was the nightmares, you think. Twisted and vile things that were a manifestation of your fears.

You don’t like to think about it. When your ship crashed on Jakku. You lost people. Guardsmen that've been with you since childhood. People died violent deaths to protect you.

The memories come in flashes, unwanted and painful. They chased you through that rocky and desolate planet. The Empire rained hell. You ought to be flattered seeing as how they would go through all this trouble for you. If not for the night terrors you had of being back in that rubble, of seeing people drop dead like flies, and smelling the stench of gasoline from their flamethrowers.

You wake up, heaving and choking back sobs, the heat of the flame feeling too real and too close. On the good nights, you’re able to talk to the Mandalorian through the emergency comm on the console of the ship.

You’re mulling around the cockpit, memorizing the console controls, wondering what each one does when a soft crackle gets your attention. You’re so used to the quiet that the soft sound causes you to perk up immediately.

“Mando?”

“— Hello ?”

“Took you long enough.”

“ How’s the ship?”

You look at the blinking communicator as if it’s done you some personal offense. “...I’m fine, thank you very much. Ship’s intact, at least. Old thing.”

“... And you?”

“Are you asking if I’m still intact? Because the answer is no. I’ve lost my mind. I think I can hear colors.”

“ Yeah, isolation will do that to you .”

“What about you? Any sign of her?”

“... No. I'm in a village. No one’s seen anyone matching her description. Fob’s no help either. ”

“Oh.” It’s nearly been two weeks. Four planets and more parsecs than you can count. “A village?”

“ Yes. Almost a day’s trek from the ship, so I’ll be back there by tomorrow. ”

You hesitate. “Can you stay? Just for a bit?”

“ Have you been sleeping? ”

“Not really.”

“...I can keep the line open for a bit. Try to rest. ”

—

Two weeks later.

Batuu was green. That was the first thing you noticed. As the ship geared closer to the surface you see that those are actually trees, densely packed together to form a jungle.

The ramp lowers and you can’t help it, you stand on the mouth of the ship, admiring the life of the planet. They’re gigantic, with bark twice the usual size and vines hanging from their branches, unlike what you had back at home.

The Mandalorian falls into step beside you and you can already sense what he’s about to say so you beat him to it.

“I’m just going to look.” The crest is parked in a clearing in the middle of the forest, flattening the long grass. It smells like damp soil and you can hear birds cawing in the distance. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you as you slowly walk down the ramp, grateful for the fresh air. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ancient.” He counters, his boots crunching on the ground as he flanks you. “These trees have been here for a thousand years. They’re sacred.”

You turn to him. “Don’t you think I should—”

“ No .” He says firmly.

“She’s trained. Been in military command for as long as I can remember. She can outsmart you and she can fight….She wouldn’t run if she saw me.”

“Believe me, I can handle it. If she’s even here. I’m not risking you for an intel that could be weeks old.” He says, wading through a field of long grass, the little kid hovering nearby.

“You’re no use to me dead.”

You make a face, smiling sarcastically. “ Charmed .”

“You’re welcome.” He deadpans. “Now get back on the ship.”

—

There’s a storm outside when the Mandalorian comes back two days later. You’ve fallen asleep to the sound of the smattering of rain on the roof of the ship when there’s a loud clang outside and you shoot up almost immediately.

Suddenly, the ramp creaks awake as it opens, letting the water in. The sound of the rain is deafening now and you’re barely up on your feet before the Mandalorian sprints inside the vessel, the child’s pram zooming shortly behind him. He makes his way up into the cockpit immediately, firing up the engine before you can even hear the ramp shut below. Another crash comes from outside, and what sounded like an animal growling and clawing on the ground. Panic rises inside you as you stumble into the cockpit.

“ What is that —?”

“Strap in now . We’re leaving.”

You do as you're told. “Did you find her?”

“No.” The ship lifts off the ground, and there’s something clanging on the side of the ship now.

“ Who is that? ” They found us, you think. They fucking found us.

“Bandits.”

“Wh– Seriously ?“

You’re in hyperspace when you finally notice it. You couldn’t help the gasp that escapes you, “ Holyfuckingshit , Mando—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He says, voice a little more ragged than usual, as if he didn’t have a knife sticking out of his fucking back.

You shoot up from your seat. “Shit , what— what do we do ? Holy —fuck .” It all comes out in a tumble. He’s facing you now but you can still see the knife sticking out of him. It’s really fucking huge. Especially because it’s halfway stuck inside him.

“Wait, wait here.” You’re practically flying through the ship when you come back with the kit, ripping it open on the floor of the cockpit and rummaging through its contents. “Here, what do you need?”

“The cauterizer.” His voice sounds thinner, even through the modulator, and it only adds a layer of panic to your already worsening state. “Look for the cauterizer— That— Yeah that one. Good.” You hand it to him. “You’re doing good. Now, you’re going to take it out—”

“What? No way .” You step back.

“Listen–”

“I don’t know how to — ”

“Hey, hey, breathe .” He grasps both your hands in his. His gloves are damp, and you see the droplets of water on his armor, his chrome visor staring up at you. “Calm down. It’s going to be alright. As long as I don’t bleed out, it’s fine.”

“You’re kidding me right? How is that fine ?”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

Trust him? That’s literally something the two of you couldn’t get right for nearly a month now. Now he’s basically putting his life in your hands and asking you to— Fuck . “Fuck, fine. I—I’ll do it.”

“Okay, you’re going to take out the dagger. Then you’re going to cauterize the wound with this.” He flicks some sort of switch and it fucking zaps . He places it in your hands. “Are you ready? You’re going to have to be quick, alright?”

He makes quick work of his chestplate, the armor clanging on the ground just as you come back with the scissors, ripping violently through his undershirt. You don’t think, you just do it and to your horror and surprise, the blade comes out easier than you expected. He lets out a long and loud groan, doubling over and gripping the console just as the bloody weapon joins the rest of his armor on the ground. You place a hand on his back to steady him, his skin warm.

“Maker, I’m sorry.” You say sincerely, gripping the cauterizer in one hand and steadying him with the other. He barks out a shout just as the laser makes contact with his skin. “ Stars , I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry… I’msosorry .” Your apologies turn into a whisper under your breath like a mantra, staying laser focused on the task at hand as he makes pained, broken noises underneath you. His fisted hand comes down onto the edge of the console.

It’s done eventually. The process felt longer than it was and there’s a moment when all you can hear is his heavy breathing mingling with the peaceful hum of hyperspace. It’s a juxtaposition of sounds. You couldn’t possibly imagine the pain he’s in and all he’s got to show for it now is a fresh jagged scar on the back of his shoulder.

You want to sit, but before you can even move an inch, he beats you to it. Suddenly, he’s tipping forward, a little too much and you recognize the fact that he’s going limp. You move just in time to catch him, letting your entire body support his weight as his helmet digs into your stomach while you try to get him back up into the chair without hurting his freshly closed wound. You hear garbling coming from underneath the armor.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hands on his pauldrons to support him, smearing red all over the metal. “It—It’s okay, I have you.” Literally. You don’t see any other option on how to move an injured man twice your size without hurting him right now and you’re too tired to think of a solution. So, you let him rest like that; his head on your stomach.

You take a deep breath, your dominant hand cramping and your limbs feeling like you just strapped weights on them. You’re also getting colder and colder as the water he brought in earlier mingles with your sweat. Your hands are bloody. He makes another pained sound, a gloved hand coming up to grip your hip.

“You ok?” You whisper.

“ Mhm .”

“...Th—That wasn’t them, right?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Relief washes over you and you hardly feel his thumb brush a circle on your hip.

You stay like that for longer than a moment. At some point, he’s placed his elbow on his knees to relieve some of the weight on you, still keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you whizz through hyperspace.

You let out a sigh, trying to focus on anything but how uncomfortable you are.

It dawns on you you’ve never been this close before and you’ve never touched him, let alone seen his skin. It’s the first time you see him underneath all that metal.

Suddenly, to you, there’s a lot of him. Weeks of looking at him and seeing nothing but metal and now the large expanse of his back is exposed to the cool air where you cut through his shirt. He’s a little pale from the injury and you also think it’s something to do with not being exposed to the sun that much. Your fingers grip his bare shoulder as you push him up just enough to make sure he doesn’t slip. His skin is damp, and he vaguely smells of rain, and something earthy. He’s a man underneath that armor, you almost forgot.

You watch the steady rise and fall of his torso as his lungs expand, muscles contracting as he tries to take in more air, and you notice the moles on his back. Tiny and completely unnoticeable marks scattered on the expanse of skin unless you stare really hard. You wonder if he knows this. Without thinking, you drag a clean hand, from his pauldron, to the small spot on his back, tracing it. Then to the next, and next, careful of his bad shoulder. It seemed like something you should do naturally and with no hesitation. You’re completely out of it, then, gently running your fingers along his back in a trancelike state, like your action and him feeling anything were two completely separate things. You hear him release a breath underneath you but you don’t feel the shudder that runs up his spine. You don’t see him shut his eyes underneath the helmet, don’t notice him lean back into your touch. Mando tries not to feel the throbbing pain on his shoulder, instead he focuses on the feel of your hand against his skin. He wonders if you were doing it on purpose. Or if you were in shock.

“Are you okay?” comes his question. He sounds more full now. Like he’s back to his usual self.

“Yeah,” you breathe, hand stopping in the middle of his back like you just traced a map and finally settled on a location.

You feel a squeeze on your hip, his head resurfacing from where it rested on your stomach and you’re suddenly faced with the chrome visor of his helmet.

“I’m fine. The kid’s fine. It’s over.” He says, sensing your distress. You nod silently. You can see him, and your reflection on his helmet but you can’t really… see it. Everything feels so cloudy and far away. You don’t want to look at the blood staining your hands, on his back.

After dropping out of hyperspace, you lock yourself in the fresher and don’t come out half an hour later.

—

You assumed he was passed out from where he sat on the floor of the hull, resting, when you got out of the fresher until he said something. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

“What for?” you whisper, meticulously laying out a fresh set of blankets on the floor. You were trying not to think much about anything right now. The baby is asleep, the hull is dark and silent, save for your whispers.

“I’m meeting with my employer, and we need supplies.” He’s changed out of his damp clothes now, and didn’t bother with putting the beskar back on yet.

You frown, listening to his attempt to get up. “You’re going to work for him?”

“Yes. I’m not made of credits.” You could argue that, technically, he was. But you feel like that would have been borderline offensive. He finds himself expecting you to say something back, but you’re quiet. He at least expected you to fight him on this, like you usually do.

“Hey.” Comes the modulated tone of his voice, sounding hesitant. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” You chuck your damp clothes in the corner, not meeting his eyes—or rather, the chrome visor now staring in your direction.

“I think you’re in shock.” He takes hold of your elbow as you make your way across the other end of the hull. “Talk to me.”

You stop in your tracks, feeling oddly vulnerable in your state. “...You just scared me.” You state plainly and just when the words leave your mouth that’s when you’re able to pinpoint what it is you’ve been feeling all alone. Fear. An image flashed through your mind—limp bodies on the ground, eyes wide open but so empty and lifeless. The memories rears its ugly head at you tonight, resurfacing faster than you can help it.

“ Maker —” You breathe out a puff of air, pressing the palm of your hand to your eyes until you can see stars. “I—I don’t want to do that again. Please don’t—don’t make me do that again. I—I don’t know why I’m—I mean, shit, you were the one with th—the knife in your back.”

The Mandalorian’s hand drifts down from your elbow to grip your hand in a gloved hand, his filtered voice surprisingly really soft. “I think you’re just tired…. It’s alright.”

A wet sob fights its way out of you. Stars, it’s pathetic. It’s so fucking embarrassing .

You wipe away your tears angrily with your free hand, a lump forming in your throat as you try to stifle a sob. You just stand there, frustratingly wiping away your tears as they come, sobbing quietly into the palm of your hands. It’s all really caught up to you now. How much the past few weeks—hell, months —really fucked you up. He was right. You were tired. You wanted to go home. You wanted to grieve .

You suspect he might just leave you there, tell you to at least get some rest before going back up the cockpit to maneuver the ship to Nevarro but he doesn’t.

The hand that’s holding yours starts to tug you closer, hesitantly and you go willingly, still wiping tears until you’re close enough to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his good shoulder, letting him soak up your fresh tears. He’s warm without the beskar, and you practically melt into him.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” You shook your head against the soft cloth of his black undershirt running down to cover his arms, now wrapping securely around you, albeit awkwardly like he really didn’t know what to do and was simply improvising. “...It’s okay.” He runs his hand across your back soothingly and you hum softly against his shoulder.

A part of you is surprised at the gentleness in which he handles you, something you only ever see him reserve for the kid, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away. While he never showed any ill intentions towards you, you could never really read him. This was a job. You were a job to him. And he never failed to treat you as such. The things he did, you always assumed, was to benefit him and the kid. Your protection was just a byproduct. You had no qualms about it, but months on the run, weeks alone, and the uncertainty of it all was getting to you, you admit and you just needed… you needed someone that wasn’t hunting you down or trying to kill you.

You stay like that until your sobs subside and you’re taking calming breaths against him, his hand lingering . It was nice. This was nice. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, where there’s a spot where a patch of skin is showing. You find yourself wondering what he looked like all of a sudden

Suddenly, a soft cry pierces the silence of the ship and you’re suddenly reminded about where you were.

Slowly, you part. “I’ll get him,” you say with a nod.

That night, you fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

#mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #star wars x reader #the mandalorian x reader

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jagibee · 1 year

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Call Me Luna

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 3

2,855 Words

A/N: New Chap let’s gooooo! As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated and lmk what y’all think!💞

…

Well. This was unexpected.

You were prepared to deal with the excitement of working closely with members of an internationally well-known band and all that that would entail. Really, you had finally made peace with that.

But. Stray Kids.

What the hell.

Your brain was flooding and the only thing keeping you afloat was Kwang-sun’s voice sounding once again from the front of the room.

“I will give you ten minutes to look over your clients’ files and then you will meet up with their respective managers. I look forward to working with you all.”

And with that, he left.

The two clipboard people, however, remained standing where they had been for the entirety of the day, aside from what you assumed to be their lunch break. Your feet hurt just by looking at them.

You turned back to the table. Each of the other caretakers were looking through their files and they seemed to make mental notes.

While looking at them, you began to wonder why each person was assigned to each group. It wasn’t by gender and it couldn’t have been by age because while Jae was the oldest and got assigned TWICE, Stray Kids was the second oldest band in those five and you were the youngest of the caretakers.

After a couple minutes of drifting off into those thoughts, you realized that you should probably look at the file.

Opening it, you saw the first page showing a profile of the oldest three members.

BANG CHAN - Alpha

SCENT - Eucalyptus

RUT NOTES - very possessive, sometimes aggressively so, good to have at least two members with him at all times but not Lee Know and Changbin at the same time or he will get aggressively anxious about the young ones, likes to wear things scented by all the members, prefers to stay in his dorm, will eat a lot

LEE KNOW - Alpha

SCENT - Caramel

RUT NOTES - doesn’t like wearing clothes so keep him in the dorm with no surprise visitors, likes to mark up anyone but especially the younger members, not particularly possessive but more aggressive than usual when members don’t do as he says

CHANGBIN - Alpha

SCENT - Cooking spices

RUT NOTES - gets especially bad headaches, likes to cuddle with the omegas and betas, will eat a lot, likes other members to wear his clothes

All of this information looked rather typical to you, so you turned the page to see the next members.

HYUNJIN - Omega

SCENT - Coffee

HEAT NOTES - gets especially bad cramps, keep a lot of heating pads and warm water packs in dorm, not particularly protective of nests, will usually nest in common room and everyone is welcome in

HAN - Beta

SCENT - Chocolate

SLIP NOTES - sense of smell increases, likes clinging to the members, will mimic nesting

FELIX - Omega

SCENT - Lemon dessert

HEAT NOTES - very protective of his nests, will only build them in his room and no one is allowed in until he invites them, likes to cling to alphas outside of the nest

You frowned at the use of the word “mimic” in Han’s profile. Even if he wasn’t an omega, nesting was nesting and if it made him feel better, what did it matter?

You shook your head. As long as it’s just in a random file that won’t even tell you all of the details, it can’t cause that much harm, right?

You turned the page again.

SEUNGMIN - Beta

SCENT - Mint

SLIP NOTES - doesn’t like touching people or interacting

Well now that was almost too much information, you thought sarcastically.

I.N - Alpha

SCENT - Toast

RUT NOTES - doesn’t have regular ruts yet, they are seemingly random and unexpected, is particularly possessive over Felix and Seungmin, will get aggressive if anyone else gets too close

Before you could think any more deeply about the profiles, Jisu from earlier entered and brought three others with her.

She smiled before addressing everyone. “Hello, my name is Jisu, you might remember me from before. My colleagues and I are here to escort you to your meetings with your band’s managers. Jae, Ha-Eun will take you,” she gestured to a short alpha woman, “Saira, Ja-Young will take you,” this time, a curvy beta stepped forward, “Millie, Jung will take you,” now it was a tall beta man. Then she turned to smile at you and you noticed her cat-like eyes for the first time. “Y/N and Justin will be with me.”

You each gathered up your file and the rest of your things before following your guides out of the room.

The clipboard people came out as well and followed you, Jisu, and Justin.

Oh god, they don’t think I’m a threat, do they? You shook the thought from your head. I am probably one of the least threatening people in this building. They could just drop me off in a random room and I would be helpless because I wouldn’t know my way out of the building.

You walked for about five minutes before you came to a stop before a door and Jisu told Justin that his meeting was in that room. He went inside and one of the clipboard people, the beta, followed him in.

Then, Jisu turned to look at you with her cat eyes, looking you up and down before turning around and strutting away. “This way, Y/N!”

You scrambled to follow her, the clipboard person keeping you in between the two of them.

When you had gotten close to Jisu and settled at her pace, you turned to the clipboard person. “Hi, sorry, what’s your name?”

He looked startled. “My name is Chang-ho.”

You smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you. What do you do?”

He blinked a couple times, then looked at Jisu and back at you. “I usually help the screening process for new hires.”

You frowned a bit. “Am I still being screened?”

Before you could hear his answer, Jisu whipped around and smiled at you. “Here is the room you will be meeting your band’s manager, Y/N. I hope you will fit well in our company. It would be nice to see you again.” Her cat eyes gleamed as you passed her, in a way that was both unsettling and slightly attractive.

Entering the room, you saw a large desk with one nice leather chair behind it and three much less comfy-looking chairs in front. Choosing the middle of the three seats, you watched as Chang-ho grabbed the left one and dragged it to the back of the room before settling in.

You were about to ask him what he meant earlier about the screening process but you were interrupted by a new presence.

The man had an average height and build and had what you could tell was an expensive haircut. He wore special extra-strength scent blockers so you didn’t know his secondary gender. Nothing really stood out about him, but he had a nice smile.

“Hello, Y/N, my name is Cho Ha-Joon, manager of Stray Kids. I look forward to working with you.”

After exchanging pleasantries, you both sat down and he pulled out a similar file to the one you still had. “So,” he started, “any immediate concerns about what your job will be entailing?”

You remembered what the file had said and decided your first priority. “Do you really not have a specialized nesting space?”

Ha-Joon’s eyebrows furrowed. “The omegas nest in their rooms or in the dorm’s common room. Is there really a need for something more?”

You hummed thoughtfully before responding. “Yes, I think there is, especially because in the Stray Kids dorm arrangements, the two omegas are kept separate. I think it would be more beneficial for them to have a combined space.”

Just then, the door opened. Expecting Jisu again or maybe another clipboard person, you sat patiently until Ha-Joon could respond.

Then Bang Chan walked in.

“Hello, Ha-Joon, I just wanted to let you know-”

He cut himself off when he caught sight of you, just releasing a breathy “oh”.

He was wearing a slightly askew beanie with a few curls poking out along with a black sweatshirt and black basketball shorts. Classic Chan outfit, you thought. And then your brain promptly shut down.

After a few seconds of just staring at each other, Chan seemed to snap out of it, and cleared his throat. “I am so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t know that there was a meeting going on.”

Ha-Joon just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, it would be nice to have you anyway. Are you busy?”

Chan shook his head. “Ah, no I was actually coming here to tell you that the boys are heading home a bit early. They were a bit excited about the new caretaker and couldn’t focus so Lino got fed up and ended practice.” The entire time he spoke, he kept glancing back at you. “I was just going to head to my studio and get some work done but if you want me here, I’ll gladly stay.”

Ha-Joon nodded. “Of course! Speaking of the new caretaker…”

You stood up and bowed quickly. “Hello, my name is Y/N and I will be the new caretaker for your band. I look forward to working with you!”

You mentally patted yourself on the back for not going into cardiac arrest.

Chan smiled and bowed back at you. “Hello, I’m Chan and I look forward to working with you as well.”

You tore your eyes from his right dimple when Ha-Joon cleared his throat. “What were we talking about again?”

The three of you sat down, Chan taking the remaining seat at your side.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, thankful that Chan was also wearing heavy duty scent blockers. If you were able to smell him, you might have fainted.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you tried your best to recall the earlier conversation. “We were talking about a combined space for the omegas to nest.”

“Ah, yes.” Ha-joon nodded. Then he turned to Chan. “Let me know if you have any input on behalf of your members, alright?” At Chan’s nod, he started up again. “We were planning on changing the dorm arrangements, one with the four alphas and one with the betas and omegas. We would buy a new space in order to give you your own room with the omega and beta group. The boys would have to move, but they will get used to it.”

Out the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s head tilt in confusion. Did he not know about the plan to change the living arrangements?

You frowned. “While that could work, I truly think it would be more beneficial to leave the boys in the dorms as they are and allow me to rent my own space. Acquiring a caretaker is already a big change, I don’t want to force them into anything more. Plus, I think having my own apartment would be beneficial not only for myself, but for the band as well. That way, no one feels like they’re being smothered by me, they can come and go as they choose if they need me or just want to get away, and I would like my own space for my heats until I feel comfortable enough with the band. Also, while most caretakers do tend to focus on omegas, it’s important to not prioritize one’s mental health over another’s based on their secondary gender. I hope that each and every member of Stray Kids will feel comfortable coming to me when they need to.”

You could feel Chan’s gaze on you, but tried to ignore it in favor of being taken seriously.

When Ha-Joon seemed to be considering it, Chan stepped in. “I also think the boys would prefer keeping the living arrangements as they are. We move between each dorm so freely anyway, there would really be no point in making a huge deal by moving. Plus, I like Y/N’s idea of a shared omega space. Felix and Hyunjin like to nest together but it’s a bit of a hassle to move all the right blankets and pillows and stuffed animals from one dorm to the other when they want to.”

Fuck. Your name sounds good in his voice.

Double fuck. He’s supporting your thoughts and putting his band mates first.

How were you supposed to work with this guy when everything he does makes you want to eat him?

Nervously fidgeting with the edge of your own scent blockers, you hoped that despite the lesser quality, no one would be able to smell how much you were mentally drooling. Thankfully, it was company policy to provide the heavy duty scent blockers for employees that worked closely with idols, so hopefully you would be receiving some soon.

After a few moments of deliberation, Ha-Joon looked down at his papers and wrote something down. “You both bring up good points. I’ll talk to Kwang-sun and see if we can decide what the best course of action is.”

Looking back up at you, he said, “Y/N, it was great meeting you but I’m afraid we’ve run out of time. Here is my card, and please email me if you have any questions.”

Taking the card he offered, you stood up and bowed at him. “Thank you so much for everything, I look forward to working with you!”

Turning to Chan, you felt your breath hitch.

He stood up as well, and you both bowed at each other before he clasped one of your hands with both of his. “I’m really excited to get to know you, Y/N, and so are the rest of the boys.”

Trying not to melt, you did your best to respond. “Yes, I can’t wait to meet them! I really hope you’ll all like me.”

His smile honestly could have blinded you. “I know we will! It was great talking to you, see you tomorrow!”

Tomorrow? You were seeing him again tomorrow? Did that include the rest of the boys as well?

Just then, Jisu walked in. She looked a bit surprised at Chan’s presence, but she recovered quickly, smiling at you. “The car is waiting to take you back to your hotel, Y/N. Are you ready?”

Saying your final goodbyes, you followed her back out of the room and down the hall. Realizing that at some point, Chang-ho had left, you decided to ask her about that.

She frowned. “Chang-ho? Oh, yes, he was there monitoring you while Justin was also being watched because we were on the fence about who to assign to which group.”

When you stopped walking, she turned around and looked directly into your eyes. “Both Stray Kids and ITZY wanted you as their first choice, Y/N.”

Wait. What?

Two globally famous bands wanted to hire you as their caretaker? And they chose you themselves instead of the company choosing for them? They specifically wanted you?

At your obvious surprise, Jisu just shrugged and turned back around. “I suppose your resume must have been impressive.”

Instead of going crazy because what the fuck, you decided to focus on one question circling your thoughts. “Okay, so why was I chosen to be assigned to Stray Kids instead of ITZY?”

You could see her press her lips together before she answered. “I don’t know exactly, I wasn’t too involved in the process, but I would guess it’s because you have more credits that they trusted you with more people.”

Another question surfaced. “Wait, I thought you were just here to escort us around and make sure we all got where we needed to be, but you seem to know a lot about this. What exactly is it that you do?”

You could see her eyes flicker over to you before she looked straight ahead again. “I also studied to be a caretaker for a few months when I was younger. But then, I decided I wanted to be more on the business side of things. They have me working as an assistant manager but because of my background, they use me as sort of a liaison between the management and the caretaking departments.”

By now, you had arrived outside and in front of the car. You turned back to Jisu. “I hope we get to spend some more time together then, Jisu.”

Her eyes widened a bit before she smiled. “Yes,” she purred, “I hope we do too.”

By the time you got back to your hotel room and all cleaned up, putting on a loose top and old sweatpants, it was dark out.

You decided to order room service and while you waited for your food, you wrote down everything you could think of that you wanted to talk to the company about.

Finally, you heard a knock on your door.

Since you were expecting room service, you didn’t look through the peephole and just swung the door open abruptly.

The person at your door was not room service.

“Uh,” Chan smiled and gave a tiny wave. “Hi.”

…

A/N: What’s this? An interaction with Chan? And now he’s showing up at your hotel room? Ehhhhhhhh?

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zaceouiswriting · 1 year

Text

The Master of Fulfillment

Character: Jason Todd (Wayne) x male reader, Dick Grayson (Wayne) x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Smut, degrading, slurs, cuckolding, Master/Slave, choking

Read it with the thought that Dick and Jason aren't adopted brothers but blood brothers, which makes it all the more intense.

It was an odd sight. Jason and I come to this cafe almost every day as his work takes up most of his time, and it's right across the street from his workplace. My work is easy and gives me a lot of time. It mostly means that I'm constantly alone without my loving boyfriend. At this point, I can't even recall seeing him naked for more than five minutes or him bending me over for more than a moment.

The saddest part? I wasn't even mad about it. Because a quicky with him is really... quick. Not only is it dissatisfying, but it also makes me feel a kind of angry resentment. Since the first few months of our relationship, he hasn't taken the time to make me cum just by fucking me like he used to. He promised it would be a short thing, but three years have passed, and nothing has changed.

We've been drifting apart for a while because he just doesn't seem to care anymore. Sometimes I think he's aware of it, but then again, he doesn't change it. That's probably what annoys me the most. For a few months now, I don't even give him a quickie without rolling my eyes in annoyance. He stopped asking about it, which obviously made him unhappy as well. Yet, still no change.

I lost my sex drive a long time ago. Or I thought so. Because the strange sight, which is completely different from any other visit we have made here, makes me feel things I haven't experienced in a long time. A tight-fitting shirt, bulging arms big enough to crush my head if they want to. An obviously well-trained chest and an eight-pack under the cloth. But the most important thing besides his perfectly square face and impeccable haircut? His damn tight pants. With a nice firm butt. But the most cloth hugs, his massive bulge. It looks at least twice as big as Jason's. I could immediately feel jealousy rising in me for the person lucky enough to be the partner of this god.

I can feel my own pants tightening. I had to take my eyes off this man made of pure sex.

Logically it shouldn't be a strange sight to see a cop, not even a handsome one, at a coffee shop, but he was strangely alone. Usually, they are never alone buying coffee or something to eat for all their colleagues.

I've tried to ignore his existence, but every now and then, my eyes would wander to him, his well-built body, and whenever he shifted his stance, I would stare straight at his massive bulge. He's been there a lot longer than he should have been. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Just as I was thinking about it and staring at the back of his head, he suddenly turned around with a scowl plastered over his face, but as soon as our eyes met, his face strangely relaxed. But soon, his eyes wandered up and down my seated body. I could only feel like a piece of meat under his gaze. A grin appeared out of nowhere on his devilishly handsome face, showing off his perfect pearly white teeth and, in particular, two sharp upper teeth.

A bright red blush appeared on my face, so apparent that even Jason couldn't miss it. "Are you all right, babe? Are you sick?” he asked worriedly. He even went so far as to stand up, leaning slightly toward me, and to put his rough, warm hand on my forehead to take my temperature.

His loving touch made me sick. "Maybe you should go and splash some cold water in your face? It might help,” he told me softly but firmly. There's something strange in his eyes, but I can't quite put my finger on what. Somehow I feel compelled to do as he told me. But before I could leave - shortly after I got up - he pulled me in a quick, smooth movement, very close to him. He definitely could feel my hard cock on him. But he ignored it. Instead, he kissed me deeply. He even went so far as to stick his tongue in. His love is on full display.

For a second, he felt like old Jason, the high school football captain I fell in love with, so rough and domineering. But as soon as we parted, he shyly looked away. My stomach turns with disgust.

Without saying another word, I walk away from him without looking at him again. But the cop - I daydreamed so much - got a look from me. Why? I have no idea. Surprisingly, he already looks at me with hunger in his dark blue eyes and lets them run over my body again before I finally disappear into the bathroom.

I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Why does this man make my heart beat so fast? Why was my body sweating so much? And why can't I answer any of these questions?

For a moment, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot this was an open toilet. Quickly, before someone tries to open it and maybe knocks me over, I move away from the door.

I'll go over to the sink, open the water, and splash it in my face as Jason told me to. But why am I doing what he told me? Maybe it was the tone of his voice… so demanding it felt like old Jason.

I shook my head, knowing better. He's gone soft. Too soft.

I remember Jason standing over me in the locker room after one of his team members fucked me for the first time. Jason was so jealous. He was so deliciously rough. He treated me brutally. He didn't care if I got bruises from his treatment. Once, he even gave me a black eye. I vividly remember cumming hard that night: no one else could make me cum like this.

A strange feeling on my face snapped me out of my head the second time. Glancing slightly up in the mirror, I discover a single frustrated tear. But at that moment, I realized something: I still love this soft idiot.

I need to talk to him to find out what's changed! Just as I turned around, the door to the restrooms suddenly opened, startling me a little. For a second, I think it might be Jason to fulfill a long-forgotten sexual fantasy of his. But when I could see the blue of a police officer's uniform, a certain sadness came over me. However, this feeling only lasted a second before a strange excitement came over me.

Confused as to what to do, I rush to the urinals. I quickly pull my pants open and get my cock out. Nervously I tried to pee, but nothing came out. Even though I could feel my bladder filling up out of nowhere, I couldn't let a drop out.

The intimidating footsteps of the cop only make it worse. I hope he would walk down as far as possible. Best at the other end of the room. I decided to keep my eyes closed and pray; until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Despite all this, he came to stand right next to me.

Suddenly my heart started beating faster again. Frightened, I open my eyes only to glance sideways and see the intimidating statue of this muscular mountain of a man. But his eyes were forward and closed just like mine a second ago.

He deftly undid his fly without looking and fished something out, seeming to have some difficulty with it, commenting with annoyed little noises. The depth of his voice shocked me to my core. I look up for just a moment at his sharp, masculine features. But even from the bottom corner of my eye, I could see beige skin sticking out of the front of his pants.

And when my eyes noticed whatever it was, my mouth went dry. "Fuck!" I exclaimed loudly. Involuntarily I would like to add! It was just a reaction.

Even after I could hear a deep laugh, I couldn't take my eyes off this huge hunk of meat. His cock is thicker than my wrist and even limp as long as Jason's hard cock. Jason isn't small by any measurement, but this cop's cock is on another level.

But nothing could intimidate me like the sudden powerful jet of water that this man let out, completely occluding my bladder. It's so aggressive that I know he's doing it to intimidate me even further. And it's an eternity before he finally shakes off with a deep, low, satisfied groan.

He pulls back his foreskin and waves it to get the last drops out. But even then, he didn't pack it up again. Instead, he stroked it lazily. It scared me. Not because it wasn't damn hot to see this man do something like that, but because he might notice me staring at him.

A quick glance upwards is enough to see that he is looking down at me. The hunger in his eyes is darker now. "So you're a fag?" he asks with a malicious grin. He seems to know exactly what he's doing. Because for some reason, I could feel some kind of lust tightening in my stomach or wherever.

He boldly steps back from the urinal and holds his semi-hard cock in his massive hand, which would take him at least two more to completely enclose his cock. My eyes widened at the realization that this man wants me, not only wants me but might even want to destroy me, considering his... question.

“I-I-“

"Don't be shy," he mused. He comes closer with his feet straight and pushes me further back. "Touch it," he commanded me. Although his voice sounded sweet, I could feel the pressure of authority pressing on me.

Before I know it, I hold out my shaking hand. Soon I'm touching the fat cock head and feeling a wetness on it. The urge to try it rose in me. But I couldn't! I have a boyfriend! That thought, thankfully, brings me back to my senses. I quickly try to withdraw my hand. But before I can do that, something inside me stops my movements for some reason. I look up anxiously and look the officer straight in the eyes. He angrily stares down at me.

"I see you want more, don't you? Greedy little fagot!” His dark, murderous eyes are now paired with an equally sinister laugh that startles me so much I stumble backward. I almost fall to my knees from sheer weakness. "Get on your knees!" he suddenly orders me.

“Wha-“

"I'm not repeating myself!" he growled right in my face.

"I-I can't! I ha-have a boy-boyfriend!” My teeth are chattering from fear.

All he does is mock me. "You mean that guy out there? The one you flinched from when he touched you? Can't he satisfy a whore like you? Is he that pathetic?”

A sudden surge of caution washes over me. Finally free of this moment, I pull my hand away, even though I mentally curse myself for it. "It's not like-"

"You already cheated on him just because I took out my obviously bigger cock. It's only a matter of time how long it will be before you're begging to take it up your little bitch hole!"

He grins down at me so arrogantly that I immediately believe he is the case and then some. I don't seem to be his first victim of lust. That much is clear. But if you look like him, are built like him, and have a cock like him? Who can blame him for using it to his advantage? I would do the same if I were in his place.

A thick, awkward silence falls over us for a long moment. He just stares, seemingly trying to understand me. But then his face suddenly twists into pure disappointment. Tightened, he clicked his tongue dismissively. Right before me, he tucks his monster cock back into his pants and pulls up his fly. He gives me one last dissatisfied look before turning around.

Suddenly a pang of disappointment comes over me. But why? Is it because a man like him wants me? Do I want to please him? Do I want to please him more than being faithful to my loving boyfriend?

Everything goes so fast, and all these thoughts shoot through my head within seconds of him turning around. He only took two heavy steps, and it is impossible not to miss him. Even his footsteps showed a tremendous amount of authority. They are so powerful that I wish he would step on me.

At that moment, my mouth opens: "Stop!" I call after him, out of breath. For a moment, I did not realize that I'd said anything.

Before I know it, my back hits a wall so hard it takes my breath away. It was hard to focus again. But when I finally managed to come back, a broken moan escaped my lips. A massive hand gripped my throat and cut off my windpipe. But I don't care. After all, it's this man. His eyes were even darker than before.

His mouth opens, and he even says something, but the only thing I can focus on is his hand which I wish would beat me red and blue. I've never seen so many veins in a hand or forearm as he does.

From one moment to the next, my ears start ringing as my head flies to the side. For a second, I feel like a star hit me - literally.

"Are you back, bitch?" he asks smugly. He seems to know that everything about him makes me lose focus.

As pathetic as I am right now, I try to talk, but all that comes out is a choked sound. At that moment, I realize that his hand is still around my neck. So I nod submissively.

"Good," he says, still as smug as before, "because now you're going to listen to me carefully, understood?" Again I nod. "We don't have time for all the fun, so I'm going to turn you around, get you ready for a moment, and then fuck you stupid, got it?"

Unable to do anything else, knowing I'll do anything to feel his hand on me and not wanting to disappoint him again, I nod. Still grinning, he takes his hand from my throat. Instead, he cups my chin between his thumb and index finger. Carefully, gently he slaps my face.

"Good boy," he whispers huskily in my ear.

Never in my life has my cock become as hard as it is at this moment. I squirm under his intense gaze. His callous hands trail down to my chest. So out of fear, I close my eyes, enjoying his full attention, only to be carelessly grabbed and thrown around. I soon find my face crushed against the disgusting white tiles of the bathroom.

He presses close to my back. I can feel his hardening cock poking against it. This man is just too big... in all regards. But he doesn't let that bother him. Instead, he uses the big body size difference to masturbate with my lower back.

His head is so close and yet, so far away that he has to bend down to let his breath tickle the hairs on the back of my neck and the fine hairs on my ears. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me. His lips are this close to my skin. "Are you clean?" he asks suddenly.

Confused by this question, I try to turn my head to look askance at him. Before I can do that, though, he pushes my head back to where he wants it. I fearfully gasp for air. "Yes," I answer him. Hoping he means if I'm healthy.

An intrusive feeling snaps me out of my thoughts as I feel a long finger poking through the crack in my ass. My eyes shoot down in shock. My pants are on the floor, around my ankles. How did he do that? I neither felt nor heard anything. I didn't even feel the cold breeze around my bare legs like I do now!

"And your hole, bitch?" His breathing gets ragged, hopefully with excitement, as mine does.

It feels so personal, too much, if I'm being honest. On the other hand, I'm standing in front of him half-naked, ready to take anything he wants to give me, just like the slut he thinks I am. And I can't even blame him for that. Then that's precisely how I'm behaving in this moment.

"I-I never ga-gave up my special diet," I choke out as his finger circles my tight hole. I realize how much I need a real man to touch me there and use my hole like it's his.

"Hmm..." he hummed contentedly. "What a good boy you are," he muses again, the smug grin evident in his voice.

As he calls me that again, my resolve shatters. My knees give out. Before I can move too much, though, his hands are on my waist. "Don't worry, I've got you," he murmured, "you're not the first whore to go weak in the knees. Although it usually doesn't happen until they find out how long my tongue is."

I'm gasping for air, confused as to what he could mean. But suddenly, his head is gone. Even more confused, I gather all my strength and press my hands against the wall to get my head off it. I can barely move my head, but my eyes immediately take in what is happening. This god of a man crouches behind me, his head level with my butt.

"Nice ass, I'll give you that," he says absently. With his hands, he kneads my perfectly round ass cheeks. A slap ripped a big moan out of my throat. "A perfect jiggle." At this point, he's just mumbling. He smacks my ass a few more times, though.

Until his voice suddenly gets even lower, with which he says a single word after a particularly hard slap on my ass: "Fuck".

Both together lead me to the most humiliating experience that I have ever happened to me in my entire life. With no warning or ability to stop it, I groan loudly.

It would certainly have been less humiliating if it hadn't snapped the cop out of his horny trance.

"Are you really that needy, bitch? Well, then maybe we should start?”

Of course, that's not a question because only a second later, I feel his wet tongue on my hole. It's not hard for the tip to break through, considering his fingers have already made me pretty loose.

But he quickly pulls out the tip of his tongue just to lick my hole up and down, teasing it with the tip only to give it a big lick again. Honestly, he has driven me crazy within seconds. With my arms flat against the wall and my head banging against it, I let him do as he pleases.

He pays more attention to my needs than Jason has in years. For years he just fucks me until he's done and then leaves. But this cop? A man I've never met before - I might add - really knows what he's doing, like a pro.

I should soon find out what he meant by the comment about his long tongue because everything in his regard seems to be... extraordinary. I even believe that his tongue alone could get into my stomach. Of course, it can't. But he reaches in extremely far and covers my insides with his spit. He even goes as far as to spit deep inside me once or twice. Preparing me to take his monster cock without lube.

The once cool tiles no longer comfort me. The officer's hot, wet tongue gives me pleasure like no one has before. Not even Bryan, who before the officer was the best fucker I've ever had. And the officer still has to give me what I really want. What I desire, since I have noticed him.

But apparently, he won't give it to me without a fight. Because all he does is please me with his powerful tongue.

Soon, however, even the thoughts that, not so long ago, fill me with fear and disappointment in myself for giving myself to another man and the desire to please him.

All I can do now is fixate on the tongue deep in my greedy hole. The bumps on his tongue massaged my sensitive insides. But what really gets me going is the flexibility of his tongue. Suddenly, he rolls his tongue and uses it like an icebreaker to penetrate me even deeper.

For a second, my mind is blank. When I come to, I'm lying flat against the wall, a hand behind my back holding me tighter against it while an arm around my knees keeps me upright. I can feel the arrogant smirk on my butt, but at this point, I know he's right. I might not like it, but he's a sex god who can turn even something as simple as a rim job into a feast of pleasure.

The tingling sensation of his tongue going deep into areas previously reserved for cocks is just too nice. His tongue is obscene, as are the moans he can filter out of me. I'm already on cloud nine… no, wait, cloud eleven. He gets me high just through my lust.

My brain is so slow I don't feel his tongue leave my hole and gape like a fish out of water. It even takes a moment before he realizes he's spitting in, only to have his long fingers push it in deeper. And it takes even longer before I realize he's talking to me.

I slowly take in his words and somehow find the strength to turn my head slightly. I look at him with blurred eyes, the area around his lips shows a slight reddishness, but it's almost imperceptible.

"I don't think I can do it," I murmur almost silently.

"But a really good boy would do that for his man."

“You aren-“

"Do I have to punish you?" His voice suddenly drops again, and his eyes, which gleam with lust, are filled with anger and disappointment.

With new tears forming in my eyes, I shake my head. It puts back a smug smile on his full lips. "Good," he says before he takes my hand and puts it on his crotch.

Why he wants me to undo his fly again is beyond me, and with my shaking hand, it's no easy task anyway. It takes a while before I can even get my hands on it and even longer before I can open it. But the man doesn't care. He's patiently waiting for me to obey his commands like I'm his whore.

He still helps my hand reach into his pants and leans forward again before I can pull him out. So I can only jerk him off a little over his underwear. "I've never seen a fag like you, who is more like a whore than a regular fag and is falling apart so damn easily. You haven't even tasted my...dick." The last word lingered for a while, seductively.

One moment he's praising me, and the next, he's demeaning me, but unfortunately, both kind of turn me on. I've never bothered with either of them before have only done them to my partners, but now with him? With this man? I want to hear it from him, over and over again, both. Maybe it's his soothing, authoritative voice or his body and what he represents.

“I-I-“

"Try not to think too much," he says, still smugly. "I'm going to fuck you now whether you like it... or not. You asked me to do it, so I'll do it, and if I like your sweet little hole, I might make it mine."

A thousand things go through my mind, but mostly Jason, my faithful, loving boyfriend, who's still at the cafe...alone...waiting for me, and I'm here, with another man, no. .. a real man, someone who can give me what I need. "I can-"

Just as I begin to speak, a sudden pressure is applied to my not yet opened wide enough hole. The pain races through my body, but my mind is too busy to react immediately. On the other hand, the man behind me is more than ready. Before I know it, a hand blocks my mouth, and another arm pulls both of my hands behind my back and holds them there, just to be safe, I suppose.

"Now be a good little boy and scream!"

Without a second thought, the officer rammed into me. It overwhelms me. It feels like he's splitting me in half. While at the same time not giving me much time to understand what he's doing. Then, just a moment after ramming as much as he could into me, he pulled back completely. Every sound I want to make gets stuck in my throat. I just couldn't get it out.

I can feel an intense gaze on the back of my head. With his head far away from mine, his deep voice suddenly roared, "I told you to yell for me, you stupid fag!" After saying this, the officer, annoyed at my uncooperative, aims and rams his massive dick back into my hole.

Finally, muffled screams echo through the room, and tears run down the officer's rough, large hand. Almost as soon as those painful screams come from me, I hear a loud moan of satisfaction behind me.

"You're a lot tighter than I thought...Your boyfriend is even more pathetic than I thought...Shit, so fucking tight!"

Even though he's using me like a fucking toy and doesn't seem to care how much pain he's causing me, I admit it's exactly what I need. I might not be able to walk for a few days and perhaps even bleed because the cop suddenly opens my tight hole so wide. But I already know I'll be needing something like this more often. I would prefer it if he never pulled his cock out again.

I'm so far gone after he pushes himself back inside me that my screams soon become bubbling noises.

Almost as if he's waiting for something like this to happen, he removes his hand from my mouth without breaking his rhythmic movements. "Did you try to say something?" he asks smugly. His breathing is even as if this is something normal to him. Remembering his massive, muscular physique and thinking that he's not just a gym rat but an athlete through and through gives me my answer to my unasked question. Somehow it made this situation even more erotic.

"Roem, a ened erom," I tell him. Everything is right in my head, and I tell him I need more. But when I hear my own words, I am deeply embarrassed.

He chuckles darkly, knowing as well as I do that he's already broken me after just a few moments of him fucking me. Suddenly, a strange, unfamiliar glow appears in his eyes. Just as it appears, he forcibly turns my head and pulls it back, arching my back. As he smiles down at me, terror courses through my veins. Whatever's going on in his head, it can't be good.

Suddenly something wet hits my face. Barely able to open one of my eyes, I see that his smile has grown, and a string of spit is hanging out of his mouth. Shocked and disgusted, all I could do was gape at him.

But he seems to take this as an invitation, so he quickly slaps his hand on my cheek and massages his spit into my skin, two fingers even wiping a bit into my mouth.

Unable to comprehend what is happening, I close my mouth around his fingers and lick them like an obedient whore.

“Fuck!“

His hand on my face suddenly pushes my head down while his other arm pulls me back. Thinking he wants to bend me over and press me against the wall, I move as much as possible to help him with my aching body.

But to my utmost shock, he goes even further. Instead of against the wall, he presses my head close to the bottom of the toilet, into which he has just urinated without flushing. I can smell the strong smell. He almost pushed me in. But I can barely get my hands on the toilet to prevent that.

I choke on the disgusting stench and almost throw up. The officer keeps me there even after hearing about it. "You'd do anything to get that cock back, wouldn't you?" he asks menacingly. Even without hearing anything else, I'm split: on the one hand, I would do anything to feel him again. On the other hand, I have my own pride. And I don't like that shit.

So I gather all my strength to draw a line. I cling to the toilet with an effort, undeterred by his powerful attempts to push me back down.

It takes a while, but once I move away from that smell, I grab onto the top of the toilet and turn my head. "Fuck you!" I tell him in a moment of clarity.

"Feisty." He's not even confused by my sudden action, which confuses me more than anything else. "I like it. A tight fucking hole, handsome, and not easy to bend." After that, there's a long pause, but I can see he's about to say something else. "Then come here and see how much punishment you can endure!"

It's the only form of warning before he pulls me flat against his massive chest, lifts me in the air, grabs me in odd places, and twists me with his monster cock inside me. When I finally get a close look at him, he's pinning us against the wall, with both of my legs resting on his left shoulder because of my pants binding them together and staring down into my eyes.

Not long after, I realize that his warning is no idle threat. He starts pounding me like a beast without breaking eye contact. Even though he's the most handsome man I've ever seen, I didn't feel like kissing him like Jason... Jason does. Shit, I'm cheating on my loving boyfriend.

When the man sees something is wrong, he pushes me harder against the wall. "Don't think about that loser. I'm fucking you, not him! Remember this!"

With that, he goes all in and even starts to sweat a bit. But that doesn't last long as all the pressure of the moment finally takes hold of me. My sensitive cock starts moving, and the officer has to hit me only one more time to make me cum again. This time, however, I scream Jason's name loudly.

But deep anger comes over him when he hears Jason's name slip from my lips. He starts to brutally fuck my hole, which makes my head go blank.

When I come to, the officer slumps on top of me, my hole drenched with his cum.

"You c-came inside me?" I ask him, my fear evident in my voice.

"Of course," he says smugly, "your hole is mine now!"

As if to make his point even clearer, he quickly pulls himself out of my sore hole, sets me down on the floor, and kicks me in the back of my knees, causing me to fall on top of her. I look up at him in confusion in my delirium. Before I could ask what he's doing, he opened my mouth slightly with his thumb. Still confused, I just let him do what he wants. But as the saying goes, if you give some people a hand, they take your entire arm.

Before I know it, he's cramming his first five or six inches down my throat, not without my teeth scraping his skin because of the surprise.

Thankfully, when I look up at him in shock, he doesn't look unhappy. More smug than anything. "Yeaaaah...uhh...oh damn! This hole is mine too!” he says firmly, not caring if I want it... or not. He simply decides for me.

At this point, I don't want to mention Jason anymore or think of him for fear of being punished again. "Clean that damn cock up, fagot!" He grins down at me. It makes me weak enough to see past what he just did. So push him back slightly to get a little control. With both hands, I lightly jerk his semi-hard cock, sucking his cock head clean and licking the rest of his monster clean as well.

When I look up again after cleaning him fully and dropping his cock, I see a happy glow in his eyes.

“Put it back in!“

Without further inquiry, I did as I was told, taking his now limp cock - still massive - and shoving it back into his pants, pulling his underwear over them, and pulling his fly back up. I place my hands on his large thighs for a second longer to catch my breath.

As I breathe, one of his large hands caresses me almost lovingly. His smugness is now completely gone. "Don't cry. Isn't it as bad as you might think," he told me cryptically. "Open your mouth."

This time I'm more reserved and only stare at him. He quickly realizes I won't do what he told me to do. He rolled his eyes, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled my hair. For a second, it hurt so bad that I opened my mouth involuntarily. He quickly stuck two fingers in and put something in my mouth.

I try to bite him, but he pulls his fingers out fast enough. As I glare at him, his smug smile is back. "Don't worry," he waved dismissively, "It's just a peppermint." Still, after telling me that, he gets dangerously close to me again. His smug grin turns predatory again. "You don't want your useless little friend smelling a real man on your breath, do you?"

His words hit all the right spots. He knows my guilt and bathes in it like a psychopath.

I push myself away from him, and instead, I crash into the tiled wall, not hard enough to hurt myself, but my dignity was injured nonetheless.

"Next time, I don't want to feel teeth on my cock, got it... bitch?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before going to the sink, washing his hands, and exiting the toilet without a backward glance.

He left me here...alone, with my face in my hands. Finally, the realization of what I've done comes into its own. How could I do that? Jason loves me, and I-I love him too. This will destroy him!

Though sadness overwhelms me, I somehow stand up. To do this, though, I put my hands on the side of the urinal to use as leverage, as my legs were more jelly than anything. Standing isn't any better, my whole back hurts like hell, and my ass is on fire. Somehow, however, I manage to get back to the sink.

When I see my reflection in the mirror, I'm not shocked to see myself completely disheveled. After all, my whole body just got destroyed by this arrogant fucking cop so annoyingly smug... I want to... fucking punch him in the face!

As my anger mounts, I realize it's my fault. A desperate sigh escapes my lips. I activated the water, splashed more water on my face, and cleaned up as best I could in a cafe toilet.

I could remove almost all the accumulated visible sweat and even save my hair to a certain extent. Only the redness on my face and slightly swollen eyes still told me something had happened.

I wait another minute, just hoping I don't seem too suspicious. When I'm happy enough with how I look, I walk to the toilet door and open it with a trembling hand to confront the man I love and just betrayed.

Extra:

Jason is happily sitting at our table while doing something on his phone. When I walk towards him or limp, he thankfully doesn't sense my presence until I've reached him and already sat down again.

"Are you all right again?"

Why is he ignoring my obviously different appearance? I look all messed up, and he doesn't react at all! Somehow it makes me angry. Is he even looking at me?

Suddenly he focuses on one point. As my gaze wanders to this point, terror fills my veins; A fucking semen stain, already crusted. But Jason just pulls out a tissue, looks around, and pulls my shirt up slightly to carefully clean my stomach. I can only sit there in horror.

“I-I can ex-explain I-„

Jason gives me a bright smile and just shakes his head. Which immediately silences me.

I can only wait until he's ready to talk and embarrassedly enjoy the attention he's giving me. I haven't felt this good in years! Even if the overshadowing feelings of guilt are getting stronger.

Even after he let my shirt drop, he's still smiling.

“I really need to tell-“

"Jason!" a sudden voice calls out to my boyfriend. One that I know only too well because a few minutes ago, the voice humiliated me and, at the same time, made me feel like a worthy sexual partner.

As I feel the blood drain from my face, I can only watch in horror as the same cop comes to our table, ruffles Jason's hair like he's done it a million times, and sits beside me, putting his arm too close for comfort.

He grins at me, making it painfully clear that something has happened between us.

"How do you know each other?"

With his still smug smirk, the cop switched between Jason and me before focusing on my boyfriend. "He's my little brother. I still can't believe he never told you about me. After all, we hang out together all the time!”

As soon as the words that his dirty mouth uttered registered in my brain, I almost fainted.

“Bro-Brother?“ I ask both men for clarification.

“Yeah,“ Jason admitted in a lowered voice.

Again the cop looks back and forth between Jason and me and can obviously sense the awkward atmosphere around us increasing as best I can feel it.

"Well, nice to finally meet the 'perfect guy' as Jason always flaunts you to me. But I have to go,” he tells us loudly, only for him to lean against me. "Remember, I like you tight," he whispers in my ear while his hand presses softly against my throat again.

But the moment breaks just as quickly as it has come. Jason's brother gets up and walks away, leaving me speechless.

"We can talk about this in the car," Jason says suddenly.

Tears well up in my eyes in a whirlwind of emotions. I don't want to let them fall in public, so I plainly nod. Oddly enough, Jason takes my hand and lovingly draws circles on the back.

But I'm far gone in my head. I now fully realize the gravity of what I've done. Maybe he could have forgiven me for cheating on him if it was some random guy, but his brother?

With a heavy stomach - that almost makes me throw up at our favorite coffee shop - Jason leads me straight to his car. He carefully helps me into the passenger seat and brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. Out of nowhere, he plants a nice, long kiss on my forehead.

I know, Jason! He's not so stupid that he didn't recognize the situation. So why is he still so loving?

It doesn't look like I'll be getting an answer to my silent question any time soon. Because as he gets into the car, he starts it and drives off. I have never experienced such silence, heavy and suffocating.

“I met Bryan again over two years ago.“

When he suddenly starts speaking, I jump a little. Maybe even a high-pitched squeak came out of my throat.

Jason doesn't even give me a sideways glance. He just starts talking again. "By that point, I could already sense that you were no longer sexually happy with me. I asked him if we could have a beer in the evening, and when we met, I asked him how he could keep you happy for so long. He was uncomfortable talking about it because he is actually married now after getting his girlfriend pregnant. But I got it out of him, and...let's just say it wasn't what I wanted to hear."

If someone had told me that my first ex could tear my whole world apart, even if we parted on good terms or as I thought it was on good terms, I wouldn't have believed it. But here I am, fighting against the only guy stupid enough to tell anyone's boyfriend stuff like that.

I gently place my hand on Jason's leg and try to get him to look at me so I can explain, but he doesn't react.

"I always thought I could be the guy you want and need. Maybe I'm the guy you want but not the guy you need. I felt insecure before speaking to Bryan because our sex life had already dwindled, but from what he told me, I felt... inadequate. And how could I not? His cock is huge... he showed me a picture. But the worst? That he could be something I can never be. A master."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Jason and I, of course, talked about our preferences. But I never mentioned my greatest. Yes, in the beginning, Jason was a dominant male, but around the same time, I realized it was just a facade. But I was willing to do anything to be happy with him.

“But Jason, I love you and what I did is not-“

"For once in your life, can you shut up?" He yells, gazing into my eyes angrily. I wanted to say something, and he could see that. "I set you up!"

“W-What?“

"I set you up with my brother," he finally admits. "He stopped by two weeks ago when you weren't there. I've been thinking about breaking up with you to give you a chance to find someone you need. All my ex-boyfriends have cheated on me with my brother at some point. He always told me beforehand. But this time? After he reminded me of the love you and I share? I-I asked him to be the one to give you what you need.”

"I don't understand." I'm breathless. I couldn't breathe! What's wrong with me?"

Jason doesn't seem to be doing any better, however. "I asked him to wear the most tight-fitting uniform he has, knowing he would draw your attention. Afterward, he told me that if we both had healthy sex lives, you would never have considered his advances. But he could tell you were starving for brutal sex.”

It must be difficult for him to admit his deepest worries. Because now I'm just someone who chose his brother over him.

“He's actually in to make this into something regular. And I have already agreed.”

"W-What? Don't I have a say in that too?” I ask him perplexed.

"I'm your boyfriend! That is never going to change! But I can't dominate you as much as you need to. It's the other way around... actually. I want you..."

His last words hang in the air like a lifeline. Yet I cannot really comprehend what he is revealing. A plot to cheat on him, but not to cheat him, but what for? Strengthen our relationship? Or getting me also into a relationship with his brother?

“What does all of this mean, Jason?“

He took a deep breath and took my hand into his again. He looks straight into my confused eyes. "My brother will be your only lover. And I want you to be dominant in bed with me."

I'm stunned, and it will probably take me a moment to really understand what he's saying. This is why we continue driving in silence until we arrive in the underground car park of our apartment building and come to a stop. Where everything suddenly hits me like a rock.

“Jason?“

“Yes, my love?“

“Are you a cuckold?“

It seems I hit the hammer on the head because his frozen reaction, unable to meet my gaze, speaks volumes.

"So you want to watch me get utterly destroyed by your own brother?" The question hangs heavily in the air.

“I-I don’t-I-“

"It sounds really... hot. I can imagine him fucking me silly while you stare at me with jealousy, and my face is contorted with ecstasy... I can imagine us doing that.”

I must have shocked Jason to the core because he fell silent. But he still holds my hand tightly in his. However, that didn't stand with me. I aggressively pull my hand out, stunning him even more.

Without saying a word, I get out of the car, walk around it and yank open his car door. He looks at me so perplexed that I want to cuddle with him and apologize.

“Get out!“ I order him.

He looks at me with wide eyes, a kind of pleasure in them, still trying to understand what I'm doing.

"Eyes down and follow me. You don't touch or look at me, understand?” Jason nods submissively. Grinning, I cup his face in my hands and give him a small kiss on his lips. Only to slap him in the face the next second with a cold expression on his face. He shudders under my gaze and quickly lowers his eyes.

I have a sinking feeling that this agreement will not go as planned. But for now, I'll try to make Jason happy.

[Masterlist]

#dick grayson #dick grayson x male reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x male reader #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #dc #dc imagine #dc x male reader #x male reader #x male reader imagines #x male reader imagine #Smut

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sparrowhero · 2 years

Note

could u do a hawks, dabi, and shigaraki x weird! reader hcs? like reader sometimes says the most out of pocket shit and they have a interesting background already involved in crime b4 they met them?

oh this is right up my alley. alright, here we go!

Weird!Reader HCs-- Hawks, Shigaraki, Dabi under cut

Hawks

Depending on the severity and legality of said weird shit, he either thinks it's funny or is a little bit concerned. It's usually the former, but if you're a rehabilitated (or at least, trying to rehabilitate yourself), he's going to be the angel on your shoulder saying "Maybe we shouldn't light that guy's house on fire, babe. Even if nobody could prove it"

If it's more mundane out of pocket shit, like "I used to eat bugs out of the dirt and pretend I was Timon and Pumba from Lion King", he's more likely to be like "Word, I used to pretend I was Simba." While he's also a very naturally serious guy in his work, being able to be genuinely carefree and silly helps relax him.

He's so used to being able to read people and calculate their reactions and intentions, so not being able to predict whatever the fuck may come out of your mouth next is a real treat for him. Keeps things fresh and exciting in a world where so many things can bore him. He's also just kind of a hype man for his significant other anyways so he's just as much the type to be like "Ain't that cute?" whenever you say something that most other people would kind of raise their eyebrow about.

It would be hypocritical of him to judge you for your past, but he really won't tolerate that shit now. He secretly finds it a little hot that you used to be 'bad' but the less he knows about the serious things you may or may not have done, the better. He cannot defend you if they find a body in your apartment, sweetheart, no matter how much you make those eyes.

Shigaraki

Plays the straight man perfectly to your funny guy. He always has a smartass remark or raised eyebrow when you say something, but also plays along completely seriously every single time without fail.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Shigaraki thinks for a moment. "...I'd at least get you some kind of dirt bowl to live in until you turned back."

He likes to bounce potential ideas off of you because of your experiences. You can say some weird shit, but more often than not, you can find the exploitable loopholes in "traditional" thinking. That's a skill one needs when trying to completely overthrow and restructure society. Even in your weirdness, most of your suggestions have more basis than some of the other opinions in the league. Besides, you make him laugh. That's a rare skill around there. He never admits it, just turns around and you can see his shoulders shake a little bit.

You cannot be trusted around Toga and Twice because the three of you will somehow create the most intricate inside jokes that make sense to nobody but the three of you. It's nice that you all get along, though. He won't participate but he does sit close by so he can hear you laugh and enjoy yourself.

Dabi

Takes everything you say in stride. He's around weirdos at the League all day anyways, one more by his side can't hurt-- besides, a little strangeness is far from a crime. There are worse things you can say or do. Sometimes he raises an eyebrow or ignores if it's really an inappropriate or unreasonable/feasible response for the situation, but that's rare.

Unlike Hawks or Shigaraki, he's going to play along with you more than the other two. Like...maybe you SHOULD kill that guy. You might have a point. You have an uncanny habit of saying exactly what he was thinking or wants to hear, which earns points with him.

More of the type to have discussions with you based on the weird shit you say. He likes to know why you say certain things, the conclusions that brought you there, things like that. He likes to pick apart your brain to figure out just how it 'ticks' and why he can't get enough of it.

One of his favorite things to do is just watch you while you go off on one of your tangents. He doesn't always have something to say, so he just listens and absorbs whatever it is that you have going on. Sometimes it's your past (a wild ride, definitely), sometimes it's just wherever the conversation leads you. Doesn't judge you on what you may have had to do or experience to get where you are, the important thing is you're with him now for a truly important purpose.

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura headcanons #hawks headcanons #dabi headcanons #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #gender neutral reader

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jacksprostate · 7 months

Note

f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..

Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.

This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.

Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.

But today, he thought about it.

And he noticed a bruise.

So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.

I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.

He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.

He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.

I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.

We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."

I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.

Sure.

Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.

Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.

Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.

He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.

I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.

He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.

When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?

Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.

There is so much pretense in the world.

Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.

And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.

Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.

It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.

For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.

The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.

Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.

I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.

When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.

For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.

It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.

For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.

Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.

I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.

I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.

Don't feel guilty, Marlon.

I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.

Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.

I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.

I look.

I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.

I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.

Don't worry too much about it.

And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.

#asks #fight club #female fight club au #my writing #obv directly in parallel to the book chapter #this has been sort of floating in my head #in the book its probably the most caring moment the narrator has for marla #and i think that is the same here actually #its just female narrator off the charts detestes marlon more in the first place. puts all her sense of sympathy and shared solidarity into #Tyler. but. yeah #anyway made marlon's life absolutely miserable #and the narrators #i actually went back and forth on that #i dont want to... necessarily... give her Solid Reasons in a way male narrator doesnt have #but its sort of inescapable that fucked up misogynistic shit would happen #and i was thinking how to resolves the food contamination question in my head #hard to explain #inherently more horrible shit will happen to her than male narrator #but not excessively and i want it to feed into the same issues. in this case her complete subjugation in the office and inability to freely #reject the horrific shit shes forced to play along with #resulting in her doing the same to the fat cats rolling by #anyway #she does care about marlon #its complicated

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therealkbaji · 3 months

Text

THE GUESTBOOK

— For my friends only. Ah, I tend to forget peoples numbers a lot so…if I did forget yours, let me know.

(dri here: this is for other charanon blogs! think of it like a little contact list <3 if you wanna be on it just shoot us an ask!)

RINDOU H. ( @thebetterhaitani ) — “That’s a big bitch. I have to eat my wheaties before I try and fight that man.”

TAKASHI M. ( @saintsuya ) - "Beautiful guy. Pretty sure he could drink me under a table. Wicked good at beer pong."

HAJIME U. ( @twumemiya ) - "Any man that hauls around ten pound bags of soil and rice for fun is not a man I want to piss off. He's my karaoke partner when Fuyu's too drunk to stand."

REN K. ( @rkaji ) - "He bites. Learned that the hard way. But his music taste? Outmatched. 10/10 would let him bite me again. Might even bite back. We'll have a bite-off."

MITSUKI K. ( @kiryucutie ) - "Pretty boy who can scrap. Don't know if I want to fight him or fuck him....Don't read too deeply into that."

SEISHU I. ( @seishuinc ) - “Long time friend of mine. What’s that? If he was always like that? Well, I could say no, but…truthfully? I think he’s always had it in him. Just took a while for it to show. Not like he doesn’t have a reason for it, guy’s gorgeous. Cant pull more than I can at a bar though so, can’t say I’m threatened by him 😌.”

CHIKA T. ( @holychika ) - “The reason why I believe in having the right to bear arms. If he comes at me too fast in the night I might punch him or something. He’s not too bad though…sometimes, at least.”

HARUKA S. ( @sakurasunshine ) - “On sight whenever I see him. Really fun to scrap with. Guy doesn’t fight nearly as dirty as me though 😁 Has yet to beat me 💪🏼”

AKIHIKO N. ( @n-akihiko ) - “Oh Nirei! Yeah, I know him. Hangs around Dri a lot. He’s nice! Pretty skittish usually, but once or twice I saw this look in his eye…I think there might be more to him. He’s too smart to be a one trick pony.”

YAMATO E. ( @endoffcl ) - “Ah, Endo. I trust that guy about as far as I can throw him, and I can never get my hands on him to throw him. Don’t believe anything he says. Suuuuuper good partner in beer pong. Haven’t lost a game with him yet!”

HAYATO S. ( @hsuos ) - “Knows just how to get on my last nerve. Do you know how insane this guy is in chess? It’s nuts! We need a rematch soon. I’ll beat him one day, I just know it!”

JO T. ( @fromtogame ) - "I wish he would talk faster. I really wish this idiot would talk faster. Feels like I dropped acid three times whenever he's around. 10/10 good company."

KANON B. ( @kanonb ) - "Who invited this freak?"

TOMA H. ( @renegadetoma ) - "Reminds me of my good friend. You know Draken? Yeah, that guy. They're similar. I think Ken lucked out with not having the gut issues this guy has though. He could do well drinking some Kombucha. Maybe I should get him some."

KYOTARO S. ( @sugiiis ) - "Hehe...Wanna see me piss him off? Heh, watch this. Umemiya."

SHUJI H. ( @twshujihanma ) - "Oh boy. Good luck, alright?"

HAJIME K. ( @kkhajime ) - "What's that one Abba song again? MONEY MONEY MONEY! AIN'T IT FUNNY! IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD!! Yeah that one! They wrote that about Koko, no doubt. I wanna be like him when I grow up.

RAN H. ( @kinghaitani ) - "You've seen his brother, the Big Bitch, now get ready for the Bigger Bitch. He's only bigger because he's older btw. Super funny guy! We have threesomes together sometimes. Cool dude!"

CHILDE ( @monokerous ) - "I cannot pronounce his first name. You could offer to pay me and I still could not tell you how the hell to pronounce it. I call him Childe. He's dope - reminds me of this one guy I met while in Vegas once. What's his name again...Atsumu? Nah nah not him...Aventurine! Yeah, that's the one. Insane guys. Gets a little twitchy at night."

HAKKAI S. ( @hotguyshiba ) - "Oh Hakkai! Pretty guy, always loved his hair. I think I'd have competition if he decided to grow it out like I do. He's cute. Blushes real easy too."

Ah, think I hit my limit. You wanna know who else is around? Check Fuyu, I think he's got the rest of us.

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ohimsummer · 2 months

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SUMMMMYYYYYYY:3333333 YOU AND SATORU AND SUGURU HAVE A HORROR MOVIE MARATHON WHAT ARE YOU WATCHING WHAT ARE YOU EATING ARE YOU WEARING MATCHING PYJAMAS WHAT ARE YOUR POSITIONS (🤨) ARE YOU ON THE COUCH ARE YOU ALL ON THE BED ARE YOU CUDDLING WHICH ONE OF YOU IS GETTING SCARED THE MOST AND WHO IS MAKING FUN OF SAID SCAREDY CAT:333333 TELL ME EVERYTHINGGG NAAAOWWW ILYYYYY<333333 - @teddybeartoji

MICKEYYYY MY LOVEEEEE HELLAUR!!! OH THIS SEEMS FUNNNNNNN I AM KISSING U ON THE LIPS MWAH MWAHHHH😽😽

— we are watching some James wan movies to start!!!!! i love the conjuring universe okay we have to watch at least one Annabelle or conjuring movie :333 satoru likes horror w/ comedy so also Scary Movie + Ready or Not!!!!!!! anddd suguru doesnt mind which ones we pick but he’s in the mood for sci-fi horror so things like A Quiet Place/28 Days Later/ Alien :33

— POPCORN!! a HUGEEE bowl for all three of us (that has to be refilled at least twice—once because we ate it all and also once because satoru got spooked and knocked the entire bowl over onto the floor 🤨) ANDDD SOME GUMMY BEARS bc satoru bought some candy, soda too!!!! Stsg stocked up on candy bars and sugary stuff and suguru also bought these cool cups (with lids so nothing spills everywhere cough satoru)

— OFC MATCHING PJS WE ARE IN MATCHING ONESIES!! satoru in a blue dinosaur onesie (it has a tail yes he does swing around extra hard just to hit you with it) me and suguru both wanted yellow so i got pink instead 🤨🤨 and they all have little hoods with dinosaur teeth and tails with spikes on them (the ones on mine are rounder) and little claws on the feet part teehee

— (🤨) WE ARE IN A BLANKET/PILLOW FORT SO WE’RE LAYING DOWN. suguru on the left and then me in the middle and satoru on the right, a typical position where we’re laying on our stomachs :333 suguru switches between having his head propped up in his hands or leaning his head against mine, i am LOCKED INNN so unless satoru is being distracting then I’m usually just focused on the movie (and getting laughed at when i get scared 💔) and satoru is….either like suguru but leaning a head on my shoulder or he’s laying upside on his back 😭 SOMETIMES!! like after we pause for a bathroom break he will lay in the middle :33 and then puts an arm around and suguru to cover our eyes (“””so we won’t be scared”””🌚) if suguru lays in the middle then he’s usually sitting up while me and satoru have our heads on his shoulder 😽 and he just leans against one of us doesn’t matter who

— BLANKET FORT IN THE LIVING ROOM 😼😼 it is HUGE it takes up half the room 😭 LOTS of pillows and blankets and they also insisted i decorate it with my plethora of stuffed animals so lots of little friends in there too :333 we all have an assigned stuffie to cuddle ehehe (even though satoru keeps trying to steal + hoard ours smh) satoru also….bought lots of new pillows and blankets and sheets so now we just have extras stuffed in a closet <<//33 those are our Blanket Fort Supplies and we only bring them out on movie night when we’re making a giant fort :3333

— YES OF COURSE WE ARE CUDDLING‼️ sometimes satoru gets clingy (and scared) so he is superglued to the side of whoever he’s laying next to HFJDKS if he’s in the middle then he loves being Squished <<333 he’s kicking his legs up (and trying to start games of footsie🤨) ++ ITS PROBABLY A TIE BETWEEN ME AND SATORU ON WHO GETS SCARED MOST!! suguru startles a little less easily (so yes me and satoru do poke fun every time we notice okay it builds character and it’s rare) i am the assigned scaredy cat of the group but that’s only because Satoru is better at hiding his fear 😞 he can laugh it off and joke it off even when it is blatantly obvious and he stares right into the screen even if he’s Extremely Scared because “I’M NOT A BITCH” (– satoru) but I’m hiding behind my fingers and plushie a lot so Scaredy Cat title goes to me 😞

— THEY ARE ALWAYS MAKING FUN OF ME!!! in order of who gets made fun of most to least it’s me > satoru > suguru but that’s only because suguru will direct it towards me when it’s on him 😒 we start teasing him and he goes “summer has been hiding behind their hands for half the movie” so now satoru is like “oh yeah!!!!!” and I can’t defend myself because 1) …….it’s true 2) suguru keeps interrupting me so I can’t get a word in 🤨🤨🤨 satoru is projecting hard as FUCK during it ( “I’ve felt you flinching at every scare” as if we can’t also feel him flinching at all the cheap jumpscares😒😒okay sir)

#MICKEYYYY ILYYYYYYYYYY MWAH MWAH THIS WAS VERY FUN I LOVED ITTTT I LOVE MY SELFSHIPS >:33333333 #do u wanna join us for movie night :333333333 come overrrrrr there’s lots of popcorn :3333333 #.𖥔 summy answerz .ᐟ ๋࣭ ⭑#⋆⑅˚₊ hi mickey .ᐟ #susasu ᯓ★

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scoops-aboy86 · 8 months

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modern steddie go on an all inclusive cruise for three months.. all u can eat food and drink… they both get pampered.. but one gets pampered and bigger

Man, you are such a gremlin for not deciding which one for me, now I gotta think about both, oh woe and lamentations. 😛

Here, have like, over 3k words total. Why am I like this, lol.

Eddie

1372 words

A lot can happen in three months.

Steve really wants to go to Italy and meet his mother’s estranged relatives over there. He’s very excited, been practicing his Italian nonstop with Robin ever since Eddie booked the Mediterranean cruise as a birthday present. Let’s also say this is part of the Seven Christmases universe where Eddie is a successful author and that’s how they could afford the trip (and include Robin and Vickie too, why not)… but it’s set before that fic, when Eddie is still relatively skinny. Steve just finished undergrad and is about to start work as an EMT, might try for a nursing degree someday but for now he’s not sure. He’s super excited about the vacation, he really needs the break.

Eddie’s looking forward to it too, but at the last minute his editor moves a deadline up on him so now he’s got to work on a draft and get it ready to send once they get back. He can still make the meetups with Steve’s relatives, but won’t have time for all the tourism stuff with his boyfriend and friends.

To still have as much time with Steve as possible, Eddie wakes up at whatever ass o’clock hour the walking tours start whenever the boat is docked. There’s an extensive breakfast buffet, which helps. Then, after waving Steve, Robin, and Vicki off on their adventures for the day, Eddie sets himself up with his laptop by the pool, a pitcher of sangria, and a steady stream of snacks from the attentive pool crew. They’re happy to bring him whatever he wants for lunch up from the dining hall, too. He works in the shade of a big umbrella, with occasional breaks to swim, but he burns really easily so mostly he just stays put.

Every meeting with Steve’s Italian family involves food, usually a big family dinner. Steve’s Italian is decent and Robin is fluent enough to chatter just as nonstop as she does in English (and her fluency makes Steve more competent somehow, it really is like they share a brain sometimes). Eddie and Vickie don’t know much Italian themselves, and become English practice for the relatives that speak it. And they keep. Bringing. Food. Vickie eats like a bird but Eddie loves it, tries everything and can never say no to seconds because it’s all homemade and simply amazing, even better than the cruise food. Sometimes by the end of the night he has to lean on Steve—the family is pretty free with the wine too, so it’s usually mutual.

In the first month, Steve tans a deep golden brown (all over, courtesy of their cabin’s private balcony that Eddie is very glad he sprung for, though he does also agree to taking a tourist day when the walking tour includes a nude beach) and Eddie’s usual bathing suit start to feel a little tight. It’s fine though, the boat has a small convenience store on board where he can get a new pair.

In the second month, Eddie starts saying goodbye to Steve at the buffet because he’s not quite done with breakfast. He ends up dozing off more by the pool, waking up whenever a waiter drifts by to order some of whatever new local spread is available that day. Work is still getting done, he’s still making good progress, so he figured it can’t hurt to make the most of whatever vacation time he can get. And, increasingly, Steve starts coming back between the morning and afternoon tours with treats from the shops he and the girls have visited. Somehow, despite the midday heat, this always seems to include gelato. “Never from the same shop twice,” Steve brags, and Eddie grins up at him and makes grabby hands for whatever it is this time. He discovered black sesame gelato early on, fell in love, and now Steve always gets him at least one scoop of that whenever a shop has it. Eddie’s current favorite combo is to pair it with raspberry.

By the third month, Eddie finishes his work but doesn’t feel up to the more intense walking tours. He stays on the boat for the morning, taking up his usual poolside lounger, but joins Steve and the girls on land for lunch—so much pizza, so many pastas, and so many gelato breaks as a palette cleanser. He’s embarrassed to realize one day that he has a sunburn on his tummy where it had peeked out from under the umbrella just enough, but Steve rubs aloe on it which turns into a sensual belly rub that has Eddie squirming under his hands… And it’s a nonsmoking cruise so there’s no after sex cigarette, but he decides that an after sex gelato break is even better. He sizes up his bathing suit a few more times—and somehow Steve hadn’t noticed that, because Eddie always sticks to black trunks, but he finds the older pairs and, curious, asks Eddie to try on the pair he originally packed.

And they quickly both realize that okay, yep, this is definitely going to be a Thing. Steve starts spending more time with Eddie by the pool, feeding him snacks and reapplying his sunscreen; this also gives Eddie a great view of his bronzed god of a boyfriend both in and out of the pool. Now instead of jumping in himself, his breaks involve going back to their cabin so they can fool around without an audience, and Steve can grope and fondle him like he’s been dying too the entire time they were out there, and Eddie can eat pastries that Steve squirreled away from the breakfast buffet without the hindrance of his now always strategically one size too small (at least) swim trunks.

By the time they’re on the plane back home, Eddie is relieved that the window seat next to his middle seat is vacant, because the arms between the seats are just a little bit constricting around his middle. He rests a hand sheepishly on the upper curve of his belly, pressing a little to feel how much softer he’s gotten in just three months eating nothing but carb-loaded Italian fare while hardly moving around. It’s kind of amazing. Kind of makes him horny, even though the mile high club isn’t an option, those airplane bathrooms always felt coffin-sized and now…

“I should probably back off on this, huh?” he says to Steve.

Steve looks up from reading the plane safety information like a goody two shoes, even though they’re all basically the same. “On what?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow and pats his stomach, causing himself to jiggle a bit. Most of the weight has gone to his belly, now resting slightly on his lap, though his ass and thighs are probably tied for second place. He’d had to buy new pants before heading to the airport because even his latest new swim trunks were borderline inappropriate to wear in public, panicking a little and buying a little too big; now he has to hold onto his waistband when he walks or they’re in danger of sliding down.

“Oh.” Steve puts the safety information back in the seat pocket in front of his aisle seat. “If you want. We’re technically still on vacation though, so…” And he pulls his backpack from under the seat. Every other day of the trip this pack has been reserved for what Steve calls his Day Supplies—sunscreen, water bottles, hats, sunglasses, migraine meds just in case, extra shirts and socks, aloe gel, travel book, a pocket English-Italian dictionary, Boy Scout pocket knife, and god knows what else. But now, Eddie can see when he unzips it, the backpack is stuffed full of snacks, some store bought sweets but some home-wrapped leftovers from the family visits. “It’s not gelato, but it’s a nine hour flight, so I thought we could, uh.” His cheeks are visibly heating up, lips parted in that dazed, eager look he’s had more and more lately these past few weeks. “Help those pants fit a little better?”

And oh, yeah, this is definitely going to be a thing.

Steve

1779 words

A lot can happen in three months.

Corroded Coffin has successfully made it into the international metal music scene and just finished up a tour, and since school just ended for the summer and Steve is released from his teacherly duties he joins Eddie across the pond. It’s not so much one cruise as a series of river cruises booked specifically for the band and their significant others, no expenses spared because the label is pumped about these guys. The itinerary includes (not necessarily in this order) Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, Switzerland, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands, ending in Amsterdam.

And, look, Eddie and Steve haven’t seen each other in person in months. There’s only so much Facetiming and texting a man can do before he wants to spend an entire week in bed with his boyfriend, and the room service is exquisite. They literally don’t leave the room for days, and are met with wolf whistles from the rest of the passengers when they do finally emerge.

Steve had been a little nervous about the trip at first because he’s… Well, he’s missed Eddie, and he’s maybe been eating his feelings about it a little bit. Had to size up his wardrobe a bit, enough that the former high school athlete in him is a little embarrassed. But that first week completely wipes out any insecurity he might have had about his body, because Eddie can’t get enough of him.

They might have left their cabin, but they’re still attached at the hip. Eddie absolutely dotes on Steve, pulling him into his lap at every opportunity (the guys take to goodnaturedly complaining about this as a “chair shortage problem”). He’s constantly like, “Ooh, Steve, you need to try this!” because, despite his parents’ jet setting lifestyle, it’s Steve’s first time in most of these countries and he has had little to no exposure to Eastern European cuisine.

Now, we’re talking about rock stars here, so of course there’s booze and drugs. Mostly just booze and pot, and they’re careful to be discreet about the latter because Gareth has watched that Locked Up Abroad tv show and is determined to make that everyone’s problem—but yeah. Eddie’s favorite thing to do is take a hit and beckon Steve over to shotgun with him, which always devolves into making out until someone throws something at them. Steve is more of a social smoker than anything else these days so it usually hits him fast, and he’ll camp out on Eddie’s lap, playing with his curls and enjoying Eddie feeding him little tidbits near-constantly until the high wears off and he realizes that Eddie’s legs are kind of bony. So he stands up, and then Eddie tries to follow but has to (has to, don’t question him, it’s 100% necessary) cling around Steve’s middle for stability because his legs have gone all pins and needles while Steve was sitting on him.

Sometimes they do leave the boat for short excursions to cool things, mostly ruined churches or famous graveyards for the aesthetic, but sometimes just strolling through obscure little towns. Steve tags along, often with something to eat in one hand because Eddie keeps darting into various shops and coming out with something for him, and it feels like the best vacation he’s ever had in his life. He doesn’t think too much about how the excursions never seem to be very long or involve many stairs, or how his clothes are starting to feel tight, or how when Eddie comes up behind him and wraps both arms around Steve’s middle from behind, those arms don’t overlap in front quite as much as they used to. Too busy having fun, too busy with his mouth full (of food or drink or Eddie)—and Eddie never says anything, so Steve not to let it bother him.

They’re out one night at a little restaurant or possibly someone’s house, no one’s quite sure because only their tour guide speaks the local language, when partway through dinner Eddie notices Steve looking uncomfortable and asks what’s wrong. The problem is that Steve’s pants are tight enough that they’re cutting into his waist, and there’s been enough food and beer already to bloat him out a little and make it worse. Steve is embarrassed, but Eddie susses out the problem soon enough and whispers back that he should just unbutton them and untuck his shirt, no one will notice. At first Steve just says it’s fine, but then Eddie promises that he just wants him to be comfortable and that if Steve’s a good boy who does what he’s told there will be a reward as soon as they’re back in his cabin. Gets a little graphic with the murmured details, but it’s a good motivator; Steve’s eyes have nearly drifted shut as he unzips and bites back a sigh of relief.

That night, Eddie shows him in no uncertain terms how much he loves Steve’s body. He kisses stretch marks and the fading indents where the pants had dug into his belly, the line down from his navel where the fly had strained to contain him. Eddie always makes Steve feel so loved, but this is different; this is like worship, and the bottom his softened belly is so sensitive that everything Eddie does there stokes the fire of want into an incandescent bonfire.

The next night they have dinner on the boat and there’s a gorgeous firework show between the final entree and dessert. Everyone’s standing on the pool deck to watch when suddenly Steve turns to Eddie and finds him down on one knee, offering a silver ring shaped like a coiled dragon with tiny opals for eyes. “I want to hoard you like gold, Stevie,” Eddie tells him earnestly. “My Arkenstone, for the rest of our lives. If you’ll have me.”

Steve knows that one; The Hobbit is easier for him to get through than the actual Lord of the Rings trilogy, which Eddie has read aloud to him several times over the years. “Isn’t that the stone that made that dwarf king really greedy?”

“Nah,” Jeff calls helpfully, “it was mostly wearing a Ring of Power that corrupted—”

Jeff’s girlfriend slaps a hand over his mouth with a whispered, “Let the man propose!”

“This is not a ring of power,” Eddie hastily assures Steve, who is smiling so hard his face hurts. “Nowhere near as precious as you—”

“Oh my god,” Gareth mutters somewhere behind them, and Eddie whips a middle finger in his direction without bothering to look away.

“Yes,” Steve blurts, and everything after that is cheers and fireworks and champagne and a cake with CONGRATS written across the top in thick icing. “What would you have done if I’d said no?” he asks on the way back to the cabin, pleasantly full with the last several pieces of said cake and his pants surreptitiously unzipped again.

“Oh, there’s a second cake,” Eddie replies nonchalantly. “Jeff was in charge of ordering them, so it probably says ‘Sucks to be Eddie” on it or somethi—Steve?”

Steve has stopped walking, a thoughtful look on his face and one hand (the one with the engagement ring) rubbing slow circles on his belly, and it’s in part because it’s just fully hit him that this entire trip was probably planned around the proposal. That Eddie loves him enough to want to make it forever. He notices the way Eddie’s eyes zero in on the movement too, how Eddie swallows hard as his shirt starts to ride up a tiny bit, exposing a sliver of soft, hairy, pool-side vacation tanned skin. Thinks about the way Eddie has been touching him during sex lately—grabbing his ass, caressing his thighs, alternating between reverently gentle and passionately rough when gripping his new love handles, more insatiable than ever and that’s saying something.

“I could eat more cake,” Steve says, and watches as his boyfriend’s—his fiancé’s eyes dilate, especially when he hitches his shirt up a bit more. And Steve smiles.

The rest of the trip goes by in a blur of food and drink. Eddie, if it’s possible, dotes on Steve even more, bringing him seconds and thirds and refills while insisting he doesn’t need to get up. And Steve has never particularly liked being waited on, but when it’s Eddie? When Eddie is making him happy just by being himself, soft under all the leather and tattoos and piercings and loud music, and Steve is making him happy just by enjoying himself? It feels amazing. It fills Steve with a sweet ache for more, and he’s more than content to answer that by constantly grazing.

By the time they reach Amsterdam, Steve is in all new clothes because he’d outgrown just about everything in his suitcase. This is where he truly goes wild, to Eddie’s delight… because they keep popping in and out of coffee shops to keep a good high going and it makes Steve ravenous, enough to take initiative and drag him into restaurants and shops to whisper a pouty little demand rather than waiting for Eddie to provide. There’s an ever-present bag of stroopwafels in Steve’s fist, eaten in between stops for piles of French fries, satay, gyros, poffertjes, bitterballen, and that one fondue restaurant that makes Steve light up the second he sees it.

Afterwards, Steve barely remembers the city and is so full he’s not sure how he got himself to bed. Eddie, giving him belly rubs and more bites of stroopwafel (eagerly accepted, despite Steve’s engorged and sleepy state; if the past three months have taught him anything it’s that he could really get used to this), says that just means they’ll have to visit again before nuzzling and kissing his way down the swollen gut, taut as a drum but still with a layer of quivering softness at its lowest curve.

“We’re flying home first class tomorrow,” he purrs, stroking Steve’s sensitive sides even as his mouth moves lower. “Nice, long, direct flight… extremely comfy seats. Plenty of time to catch up on lost sleep. If you’re up for it?”

Steve stretches with a happy moan and a stifled burp. “I’m up for it. Are naps allowed though? I might doze off after, so fucking full…”

He can feel Eddie’s sharp grin against the padded crease of his thigh. “I suppose I’ll allow it. If you do, mind if I keep going?”The rest of the night is very long, and very good. Steve sleeps peacefully all through the flight home, Eddie (his fiancé) playing soothingly with his belly under the fluffy first class airplane blanket the entire time.

#ask #hotluncheddie #wg steddie #chubby eddie munson #italian steve harrington #chubby steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #scoops words #cruise wg au #laughing at how both scenarios are about eddie treating steve to an awesome vacation #i've never actually been on a cruse so i'm basing all this on my parents' vacation stories and like. movies or whatever.#there's actually a third scenario but i'm cutting myself off. i'll post that separately later once it's done.

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titanicfreija · 4 months

Text

Three things.

Played with @fossil-finder last night and had a good time. I carried her through Prophecy for shiggles and the Kridis Empire hunt for prisms.

They said I was "the most competent Titan" they've seen and yay for the warm and fuzzies. I've had a lot of practice keeping the DPS alive, and I'm quite proud of my capacity to do so under several circumstances. It's a high priority to me, because if my damage/rez is dead, I don't last long. I'm very grateful to them for shooting the bosses in the faces while I cowered behind the furniture and caught things on fire.

But so I want to brag, because this was badass as fuck.

During the Kridis fight, Bunny got frozen and killed, like you do, while I was on the wrong side of the map, on the other little offshoot platform.

So I hop the railing, touch on the strip and jump over to Bunny. (I can't remember if I used my melee to hurry up, which would have made it even cooler.) She's got a yellow bar on her Ghost, so I spin and put my thermite grenade down in front of where I'm going, get it running up the path to Kridis, catch the marauder for a second, and I land and put up a barricade as soon as I touch down, which saves me from Kridis's ice shit, and I punch the marauder the rest of the way down while I get her up.

It was so fucking cool, I cannot believe I pulled that off.

This was after I had said, "I'm not THAT great". Bunny has suggested this is a bit of imposter syndrome. Which, it might be a little, but I wanted to explain this, cos this is thing 2.

I'm definitely in the top half, probably in the top quarter, skill-wise. But I say I'm not THAT Great for two reasons.

One is kinda unfair to myself, and he's our friend and occasional Fireteammate, Gamerboy. Freija and Three are both impressed by this guy. I plan to write him into a least one story, and if he has an OC, I'm gonna have to make a second Guardian to superimpose the player on.

Gamerboy carried Rise through Zero Hour and got him Rat King in Season 12. He went into the crucible with us and showed me shit I still can't do. This fucker got us Malfeasance when I decided to see what that quest was all about.

That is significant because part of that quest requires an Army of One OR for someone on your team to get an Army of One three times in one match.

That is, you have to invade in Gambit and take out the entire enemy team. Four kills. Or else your team has to do it for you three times.

This mother fucker over here jumped into Gambit with us with a fucking Aachen that just randomly dropped, and he did it on the first match. (This is how I don't get salty about ass-kickings in Gambit. Turnabout is fair play.)

So my basis of comparison, my line of Greatness, is that asshole. I'm not THAT great. I AM good. I've had to admit that one. My greatest shortcoming is my lack of DPS and my second is a degree of inflexibility once I get a good thing going. (I miss Citan's. 😭) Third is that this is, in fact, an MMO and I have horrendous social anxiety.

The other source of humility is connection-based matchmaking in the crucible. It's usually just the one guy that ran the whole match doing the gnawing, instead of me being The Bad One, but sometimes I'm still The Bad One and the times I've been the one eating good are few indeed. I can remember twice. My efficiency drops to .7 and my greatest chances of victory are based around if my team has a carry.

Which brings me to the Third Thing

Rise and now Bunny, and literally anyone else that worries they're being rocks in my backpack-- as long as you are shooting shit, you're helping. If you're only getting shot at, you're still helping. If you rez me one time, that's a time I didn't have to start completely over. If you only get one of the five Nighthawk shots off, you did a goddamn fuckload of damage that I no longer have to do. The difference between solo and duo is night and day and you being there means I'm not solo. In this particular case, we went in knowing I was carrying. I said the words, "I'll carry you." I'm happy to have you.

To conclude: I am awesome and I had fun. 😁

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spacemancharisma · 11 months

Note

Hey you said feel free to ask hygiene questions. How often should you be doing stuff? Like showering, washing hair, washing bedding? Washing re-wearable clothing like jeans or jackets or bras that I think you can wear multiple times without needing to wash?

Idk other esp hygiene or cleaning activities that you need to do sometimes.

Like they tell you brush your teeth twice a day but not how often you need to wash other things.

yeah this is a really good question! I’m putting it under the cut since it got p long lol

so showering is ideally every day, but that can be difficult for some people, so as close to that as you can manage is good. if you have days that it’s too much, wiping down with a rag or a baby wipe is good. be sure to thoroughly clean your genitals/butthole every night before bed, just for your health. on baby wipe days, i get that whole zone really clean, and also my armpits, feet, and anywhere my skin folds over bc sweat tends to trap there. wash your face well at least once a day (I do it in the shower) and if you’re up to it, give it a good scrub with just water at the other end of the day. there’s no hygiene gain or loss from shaving any part of your body, so do that as much or little as is your preference. I put on deodorant at least twice a day (when I wake up & after I shower), or whenever I’m feeling sweaty/stinky.

washing your hair really depends on its length and texture and I can only speak to white person hair care, but as far as that goes- I have thick, curly hair, and I wash it every 2-3 days. people with greasier hair tend to wash it more often. like with most things, a good test is to wash whenever it starts to have a smell, or more frequently than that lol. comb your hair out when you wash it to keep it from getting matted. people with straight hair brush it dry, too, but that isn’t something I do personally.

clothes go by the smell principle too, mostly. shirts can get two or three wears unless they’re sweaty/stained/stinky. pants made of a thick material can usually last a week, though some people stretch their jeans out even more if they’re good material. again- if it starts to have a smell, put it in the laundry. bras are also good for a week or so at a time as long as they’re not stinky. jackets and stuff go by the same principle, and they last a long time usually, since they don’t touch your skin directly. underwear should be changed at least once a day and not reworn, same with socks.

washcloths should only be used once, but bath towels can get two or three uses. hand towels should be switched/washed about once a week.

people tell you to change/wash your bedsheets once a week but I don’t know anyone who does that lmao. changing your sheets every two weeks or so is usually good; you might want to do so more frequently though if you’re sick or eating in bed or having a lot of sex or something hfbggjg

like you said, brushing your teeth is standard once in the morning and once at night. if you want to do a bonus one halfway through the day, that’s probably good for you, but most people don’t. brush your tongue when you brush your teeth- it only takes a couple seconds and it does a lot apparently. get a new toothbrush at least every 6 months, if not more often.

body chores: clip your finger/toenails as often as works best for you. I can’t stand having long nails so I trim them once a week, but that would obvs be different if you like long nails. floss as often as you can, but don’t feel bad if you’re not consistent- very few people are. put lotion on your body if your skin gets dry- I recommend aveeno, it’s not greasy and it works really well. if you have sex toys, clean them before and after every use (it’s a pain but you do Not want to fuck with any kind of germs down there).

household chores: clean toilet- once a week. clean bathroom sinks/tub: once a month (clean mirrors while you’re at it). empty trash cans- once a week. clean kitchen counters- every time you cook. clean stovetop- once a week. dust- once a month but this one’s kinda optional lmao. laundry- before you run out of clean clothes/towels. dishes- before you run out of clean dishes. floors- my family vacuumed/swept once a week growing up but as an adult I just kinda follow my heart here lol. change pet litter- at least once a week.

health: you’re supposed to see your GP once a year for a regular health check, and that’s good to get blood work done to make sure your hormones and such are all balanced, but it’s okay if you don’t keep a super strict schedule with that. dentists you really should see once every 6 months, or at least once a year. if you have a uterus, get a pap smear done every 5 years. get checked for STIs with each new partner, or once a year. keep track of your period if you have one so you know if there are irregularities; change tampons/pads as needed, you know best, but remember to never sleep with a tampon in. give yourself a breast self-exam at least once every few months, if applicable. drink water consistently throughout the day, listen to your body and eat when you’re hungry, try to have at least one fruit or vegetable a day (doesn’t have to be whole/raw, just get those nutrients where you can). the average number of times in a day to pee is apparently 6-7, but I’d say anywhere from 5-10 is normal, idk I’m not a pee expert. either way, stay aware of your body and it’s needs and don’t hold your pee if you have literally any other options- your kidneys are important and that hurts them. you should poop 1-2 times a day, not accounting for any health conditions that might change that. do your best to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night, and get your body in motion for at least 30 minutes a day- this could be a gentle walk or even doing household chores, the important thing is to keep your muscles and joints flexible. do some basic stretches once a day.

and some closing remarks- I’m really proud of you for reaching out to ask, cause I know it can be really hard to talk about this stuff. there’s absolutely no shame in ignorance, and similarly, there is no shame in being dirty/smelly. as humans, we tend to keep ourselves and our surroundings clean because it’s better for our health and our sensory experience, and it makes us more pleasant for others to be around, but it’s important to remember that none of this is a moral imperative. I grew up in a house that made it seem like you were a bad person if you were dirty or you smelled like BO, and that’s not a healthy or accurate approach to things. keeping proper hygiene when you can is important, but because it makes your life more pleasant to live, not because it’s a sin or a slight to do otherwise. just do your best to take care of yourself, and you’re doing great 💜

#thank you for asking!! if you have any other/more specific questions feel free to pop back in my inbox #ask #anon #read more

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accidentalkilljoys · 6 months

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Pill-taking poll followup

#is this outrage bait #are we having a 'it never occurred to me someone would take 12 pills in one gulp because I can't do that' moment #or a 'I'm perfectly aware people take 10+ pills at once I just want attention and I don't care how I get it' moment

It’s not outrage bait, I swear! It honestly did not occur to me that, faced with a handful of small things of various sizes, shapes, and colors, tumblr users would NOT immediately sort them. (I personally take five in the morning, which I put in a little pile next to my cereal bowl, and then sneak them into my mouth between bites, largest first, like I’m tricking a dog.)

I was not expecting over 50,000 responses to this poll. I have fewer than 100 followers, and that’s including the pornbots. But the notes are fascinating to read!

“All at once,” or as one person called it, “the cursed jello shot,” was by far the most popular response, despite my forgetting to put it as a poll option. [The following quotes are all by different people.]

Didn't realize there were other methods besides chaos #SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS #i slam them all back at once to take advantage of my powerful throat #i take pills with the same energy ppl in movies put their broken bone back in place #I will just shove them all in my mouth at the same time and hope I don’t die #<- YOU GOTTA SHOT GUN THEM BACK LIKE A CHEEP BEER #those mfs get gulped as a team #Genuinely I just chuck them all at once down my throat hole #i take my pills like a fucking whale shark ok!? #i gobble them up all at once like im a starving horse eating delicious gruel from the palm of a cowboy's (my own) hand. #all at once and I look like an owl eating a rat I unhinge my jaw, stuff them all in my mouth at once, then slam a big glass of water #all at once bby #all in one go baby #ALL AT ONCE BAYBE #ALL AT ONCE BABEY #Three at once baybee i am unstoppable #all at once babeeee

(There were also some people who were very judgy about people who can’t do the cursed jello shot, whose thoughts I am choosing not to reproduce here.)

I am amazed at how many pills you all are taking at once.

YES I usual to take 7 pills at once just to save time like a fucking animal #all at once #even if I have like 8 and they're huge #i take 9 pills at once about twice a day I take about 10 pills. I take them all at once. #i take 11 in the morning all at once including two large ones #i take 12 pills every morning and 7 at night and my family hates it but i just knock em back #i take them all at once #granted i take like 13 pills at once every night sometimes more #i take 15 pills every morning and i just swallow them all at once #i learned to take all 17 at once #i can swallow upwards of twenty pills at a time #i can easily swallow like 20-30 pills at a time

There were also a couple of notes from people who USED TO do the cursed jello shot but don’t anymore because they choked or, in one case, misfired and spent the day with a Claritin in their cleavage.

Other things that didn’t occur to me: pills that dissolve under your tongue; people who use feeding tubes; the options of “in order from least tasty to most tasty;” random order; texture order; order in which they were prescribed; “whatever I grab first;” “all at once except the fish oil which is unreasonably large;’ order of how easy it is to swallow; in order of buoyancy because some pills float; by shape; “I only take one pill at once;” “top to bottom of my body so head pills first birth control last.”

#i dont take any pills reglarly but secret 5th option had me think of someone fucking plinko-ing their pills

In conclusion: I’m glad we’re all doing what we need to do to survive and thrive. I’ll be over here with my cereal bowl. Thank you for participating in the poll.

#polls #pills #medication #meds

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secretagentfan · 6 months

Text

Not us (No never)

FE Three Houses - Russian Doll (2019)

Dimisylvix

Thought I'd share here too because it's been a minute since I've posted a fic and this one has been fun.

On Archive!

“Come on Eileen” echoes through walnut floor-standing speakers proving that, despite having a streetwise best man capable of getting private reservations at the nicest bar in town, Ashe’s taste is an affront to mankind.

Yuri, the best man in question, is currently walking away after playing sommelier to a tipsy, giggling Mercedes. Felix glares at him.

“Eyes elsewhere Fraldarius,” Yuri drawls. “It’s Ashe’s last day of bachelorhood, so allow him his terrible taste in Celtic folk pop, and be glad I spared you all the trip to Medieval Times. There are limits to what I can do.”

“That’s a blatant lie.”

“Why Felix, I’m flattered you believe me so capable.”

Perfect timing— Felix has been aching for a fight. He throws the verbal gauntlet: “Everything about this place screams mob connections. Not a single thing happens under this roof without you, his best man, allowing it to happen. That includes the shitty music—”

“Hm, someone really got up on the wrong side of the bed today. You really want to talk about my alleged mob connections at our sweet friend’s bachelor party, or shall we walk that back?”

“Walking it back sounds good,” Sylvain interrupts, returning from the open bar. His red hair is mussed and he smells like some combination of cologne, brandy, and cigarettes. So he’s started smoking again. Annoying. “What are we talking about?”

“Felix seems to be in a grouchier mood than usual.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that; he thinks he’s being subtle.”

Felix scoffs. He’s fine. Fuck them. The caramel-colored shot in Sylvain’s hand is significantly more important than whatever’s leaving his mouth, and Felix overlaps the familiar fingers with his own to tip it back.

“Whoa, hey, at least ask, Felix,” Sylvain complains but lets it happen. He winks at Yuri. “I’ve gotta say, you’ve done a great job on the party. Not at all what I expected from Ashe.”

“Sometimes he needs a reminder that he can actually be fun. Have you seen him?”

Sylvain gestures behind him, and Felix can make out Ashe alone on a barstool. He’s obviously a little drunk, openly fiddling with his engagement ring, a dopey grin on his face. Yuri shakes his head.

“He makes a terrible barfly. I’ll go liven things up before he pulls out a book. Enjoy yourselves, you two.”

“Later Yuri.”

Sylvain’s drunk too, right hand drifting to Felix’s waist in a way that would never happen sober. His breath tickles Felix’s ear. “How’d my shot taste?”

“Bad,” Felix replies, not stepping out of the half-hearted embrace. They’d fucked twice before. Maybe they’d fuck a third time. Maybe that would salvage the day. Dedue and Ashe were somehow getting married, anything could happen.

That was unfair. Felix didn’t mean to think that. The truth was, they deserved it, deserved each other and the surprisingly nice bachelor party even if it was undoubtedly procured through means that would probably piss Ashe off. Felix was just—

Somewhere behind them, a glass breaks. There’s laughter so it’s probably Annette’s doing. Everything was too damn loud. Felix still hadn’t seen him anywhere.

Sylvain’s fingers squeeze his waist.

“Seriously, what’s eating you, Felix? You’re not usually this tense.”

“I am.”

Sylvain actually laughs. “You know I’m just going to keep asking, right?”

He will. Felix could stonewall him, but he isn’t a coward. They can talk around this. “Lost the cat.”

“Aw wait, seriously? The one that’s been following you around?”

“Is there another cat I’d be referring to?”

“Okay, okay. Well, sorry. That’s awful. What happened?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t shown up in a few weeks. I’ve been feeding it—”

“Hold on, you’ve been feeding it—”

“You know what, I’m not having this conversation.”

“No, no no. Just hang on Felix.” Sylvain grabs his hand. “You want to go search for it?”

It’s a stupid offer. The cat doesn’t matter, but still, something dead stirs in Felix. Sylvain means it; he’d ditch the whole party to search for a stray. Felix yanks away, rubbing his wrist. “Of course not. If it’s dead it’s dead, I’m not going to waste the night looking for a corpse.”

“It might not actually be dead, though. What if it’s just shivering in the park somewhere? We could—”

“Do you want to have sex or not?”

The words leave Felix before he can think them through fully. It’s the alcohol, probably, but the surprise blossoming on Sylvain’s face is starting to feel pretty rewarding too.

“Seriously? Now? Today?”

Felix shrugs. “I don’t have condoms so we’ll have to buy some somewhere. I trust that won’t be an issue?”

Sylvain frowns. “You’re…sure? Felix, I’m a little—and aren’t you…?”

“Drunk? Yeah. It isn’t like we haven’t done it before. Take it or leave it.”

Those are the magic words. Sylvain’s expression snaps to a neutral grin— unreadable.

“Well when you put it like that, I’ll take it. We should say bye to Ashe and Dedue first though.”

They do.

Sylvain calls the driver he’s supposed to use for necessities only to take them to one of the worst 7-11’s Felix has ever laid eyes on. Scratches on the walls give the distinct impression a trapped rodent gave his all before letting death claim him behind the humming slurpee machines.

Before they leave Sylvain calls “Felix,” in a low, quiet way and sloppily kisses him against the checkout counter.

Felix pays way too much for a box of condoms and doesn’t notice the eyes on them.

They agree to fuck at Sylvain’s place because it’s closer, and Sylvain once found a crusty half-fossilized piece of pizza on Felix’s couch and has never let him forget it.

Sex isn’t difficult.

Touching Sylvain feels good, warm and simple. He kisses too hard and hugs too tightly, even when their clothes are on, but it’s an alive sort of feeling that fills Felix when they’re in bed together. Electricity under his skin. Still fresh enough there’s a novelty to the act.

It helps that Sylvain is stupidly adventurous. Curious and clever with his fingers and mouth, eager to test limits and see what he or Felix can take. He doesn’t complain when Felix bites more than he kisses, and maybe that’s why they keep ending up here.

Every time it seems Felix notices something new about Sylvain: how strong his thighs are, white vein-like scars on his fingertips, under his nails.

Wait.

“When did you get these?” Felix asks, catching Sylvain’s hand. It’s still damp from Felix’s saliva. Ugh. Weird.

“You’re asking that now?” Sylvain breathes out, pupils dark. “Just kid stuff, don’t worry about it.”

What kind of kid stuff would lead to finger scars? Felix almost asks, but all thoughts temporarily abandon him as Sylvain sucks down hard on his neck, making him grunt.

“Got you,” Sylvain grins, tongue flicking over the mark he undoubtedly just left. “Told you I’d pull some sounds out of you eventually.”

“That wasn’t a sound,” Felix lies. “Air was just leaving my mouth.”

“Yeah with a vocalization attached.”

“So?”

“That’s a—” Sylvain actually pulls back, eyes narrowing. “C’mon Felix, have we really reached the point in this process where you’re denying what a sound is?”

“Shut up.”

“Guess I’ll have to remind you, over and over again.”

“Hm, get to work then.”

Sylvain’s good at undressing him. He doesn’t waste time. For someone who spends all his time talking about romance and fucking and girls, girls, girls, Sylvain knows how to handle a dick. Knows exactly the amount of pressure to put around Felix to make him gasp, arch, cum.

It works, enough.

Felix crawls over him after, kissing him in the rough way he likes, and thinks, infuriatingly, about the stupid cat, shivering in the cold somewhere. Sylvain tangles his fingers in his hair and makes to turn them over. Felix blindly grabs for his boxers.

“I have to go,” he says. Now Sylvain’s looking at him in that sleepy-fucked-confused way that means he’s about to insist on another round, but Felix is already on his feet, pulling his coat off one of Sylvain’s stupid abstract sculptures.

“Wait, now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back later.”

“You going to tell me where you’re going?”

“Do you need to know that information?”

Sylvain swallows. “Well, I can’t say I’d mind knowing it, but I guess you can just take off cryptically into the snow instead.”

“There’s nothing cryptic about it. I’m just leaving. Shut up and wait here,” Felix demands.

“Sure, sure,” Sylvain replies, digging in his nightstand to pull out a cigarette.

Felix crosses his arms, just looking at him. “Really?”

“What? You’re the one choosing the unforgiving snow, I’m just keeping it warm and lonely here.”

It’s obviously bait. Felix doesn’t have time for this.

“Be warm and lonely then,” he says, slamming the door before Sylvain can light up.

There’s a park near Felix’s apartment. They used to have snowball fights here when they were small and stupid. Contests at the lakeside: who could dash from one end of the lake to the other quickly enough so the ice wouldn’t crack. Ingrid partially fell in once, scraped up her leg. She still has the scar. A metal fence got put around the perimeter soon after, but it didn’t matter. None of them wanted to go near the lake after that.

Felix is taller than the fence, now. It always felt so big.

He walks around, searching for the cat, knowing he won’t find it but needing to anyway. The snow builds up gradually until Felix realizes he’s leaving footprints. What the fuck is he doing out here, really?

His phone rings and he silences it without looking at the name. He knows who it is, and he’s not dealing with that now. Felix doesn’t want to think about him. Felix doesn’t want to think about anything.

He keeps circling.

Felix finds the cat only after it’s dark and he’s given up. Point for Sylvain: it’s not dead, but it’s not looking great either. It’s too small, too thin. Its matted tail drags behind it like it can’t be bothered to hold it up anymore. Felix almost calls out to it, but he’d rather die than be caught expecting a response from a dying animal. It’s upsetting.

He hurries into the street instead, scooping the trembling thing to his chest at the crosswalk. It accepts the rough handling without protest.

“Shit,” Felix mumbles, voice softening in a way he’ll never admit. It’s so light. Skin, bones, and a persistently beating heart. He digs in his pocket for his phone to call Sylvain — he’s closest. “Let’s get you someplace warm.”

The sound of brakes and swerving tires pulls him out of it. Felix has always had good reflexes—second only to Glenn in military school. They don’t help him here.

The cat leaps out of his arms with strength Felix didn’t know it had and a yellow cab crashes into him. The windshield cracks and Felix slides over and off it, skull slamming hard onto the curb.

He can’t move.

His head is tilted toward his phone. The screen is broken, but it’s lit up with notifications. They’re still coming. One after the other.

1 missed call from Dimitri

7 missed calls from Ingrid

4 missed calls from Sylvain

The texts are moving too quickly, and Felix’s brain is too full of colors to register the names.

Forgive me.

Where are you?

Felix I need you to fucking answer right now

Call me.

Felix please please answer your phone.

Felix, call me now.

There’s so much blood. Felix is dying here, on the sidewalk outside the stupid park. The realization is oddly tepid, considering. His life doesn’t flash before his eyes— in fact, it just drains out of him.

He wonders if the cat made it.

“Come on Eileen” echoes in his ears and Felix downs his stolen shot, coughing after.

“Whoa, hey, at least ask, Felix— serves you right,” Sylvain complains, yanking the glass out of Felix’s grip. “I’ve gotta say Yuri, you’ve done a great job on the party. Not at all what I expected from Ashe.”

“Sometimes he needs a reminder that he can actually be fun. Have you seen him?”

Sylvain gestures behind him, and Felix doesn’t follow his gaze. His palms are sweating. Something feels unplaceably, impossibly off for a moment. He swallows hard, running his palm over his face.

He’s at Ashe’s bachelor party. Yuri’s probably part of the mob. Felix stole Sylvain’s drink. It feels like he’s taken a few steps away from his body. He breathes out, slowly, focusing enough to catch Yuri’s next sentence.

“He makes a terrible barfly. I’ll go liven things up before he pulls out a book. Enjoy yourselves, you two.”

Everything is…so… Sylvain’s hand slides distractingly around Felix’s waist. Felix slaps it away— dammit he needs to think.

“Man,” Sylvain whines. “Guess it’s going to be like that.”

Something vague slides into place in the very back of Felix’s head; he grips the hand he just slapped.

“Don’t grab me now, I’m thinking,” he grouches. He’s forgetting something important. Sylvain studies his face for a moment, a previously missing clarity slipping into his relaxed, drunken expression.

“What’s eating you, Felix? You’re not usually this tense.”

Wires connect. Felix finds one of the things he’s looking for.

“I lost the cat,” he says, testing.

“Aw wait, seriously? The one that’s been following you around?”

Felix can’t believe he has to explain this again. “Yes, the one that’s been following me around. What the fuck was in that drink?”

“Huh? The one you just stole? It was brandy, I think. You’re not dizzy or anything are you? I swear I watched the bartender pour it and everything—”

Felix steps out of his hold. “Shut up, you’re the last person I need mothering me. I’ve done this before.”

“I should hope so, Felix. I’m pretty sure I was there for your first drink—”

“—Not the stupid alcohol, the cat! I went to find the cat after we…”

Felix trails off, very clearly remembering Sylvain’s breath at his throat, palming his dick. Scars on his fingertips. He turns Sylvain’s hand, examining— sure enough, they’re there: faint and white.

It’s Sylvain’s turn to pull away. “Not that I’m opposed to all this contact, but what are you doing Felix?”

“Have you always had those scars?”

Sylvain’s face goes slack, just slightly, in the way it always does when Felix cuts too close to the quick. Maybe that wasn’t the thread to pull at. Felix cringes. What the hell is he doing, grabbing Sylvain, interrogating him about his scars?

Sylvain shakes it off, fingers closing tightly around Felix’s. “This cat really has you shaken up, huh? You want to go search for it?”

Felix’s heart pulls, Sylvain’s hand feels deeply necessary for a moment, a grounding force in a collapsing reality. He looks away.

“Yeah.”

Sylvain lets go, offering him a small smile. “You got it, then. We should say bye to Ashe and Dedue first though.”

They do.

“Let me get this straight, Felix. You’re saying we hooked up again, and you went out here to find the cat and got hit by a taxi in…what? Another reality?”

Snow’s starting to fall. It catches in Sylvain’s hair. Felix glares at it.

“When you say it like that I sound insane.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say you sound totally right in the head Felix. You’re pretty light, but the cab would have to be going pretty fast to get you to roll over it. I’m not even sure that’s possible— just gravitationally speaking.”

“I’m telling you it happened.”

“I’m just saying, what’s more likely: another universe, or you had a little too much and had one hell of a waking dream?”

“I’m not making it up!” Felix growls. “I don’t know why I expected you to get it. Just leave me alone. I’ll find the cat myself.”

“No way, I’ve got to learn more about this other reality.”

“Fuck you.” Felix glares, cheeks hot as he tries to scrape together a defense for whatever absurd thing is happening inside him. “I don’t know, okay? I just know it felt real.”

“That real, huh? I’d like to think I’m better than whatever dream me showed you. If you want a demonstration, I’m happy to get your mind off things.”

Sylvain’s hand brushes Felix’s and dammit he really can turn any moment into an awful line, can’t he?

“I’ll pass,” Felix grunts, pulling away. “I’m still thinking about bleeding out on the side of the road.”

“Oh, come on! I left more of an impression than that, right?”

“Trust me, I’ve already forgotten you.”

“Ouch!” Sylvain’s dry laugh echoes in the empty park. They’re leaving behind two sets of circling footprints now. Something pricks unpleasantly in the back of Felix’s skull. He reaches for his phone, checks the messages. No calls. No texts. His head throbs. Something is missing. Something is wrong.

It’s starting to get dark. Felix pulls his jacket tighter around himself.

“Hang on, hang on, stop walking for a sec,” Sylvain says suddenly, crouching in the snow.

For a moment, Felix thinks he’s found the cat and gets down to join him, but then scarred fingers wrap around his wrist, and Sylvain’s entirely too-warm left hand covers Felix’s.

“What,” Felix bites out. He realizes, with mounting exhaustion, that this was a trap all along. Sylvain held his hand like this all the time when they were kids and he had to ask for Felix to cover him while he did something idiotic. As if tonight wasn’t enough already.

“Don’t bite my head off yet,” Sylvain says, voice uncharacteristically serious. “Look, we’ve talked around this enough. Dimitri’s been out for two months now. He’s always asking about you. When are you going to actually have a conversation with him?”

Felix bristles, yanking out of Sylvain’s grip and standing up. His heart squeezes in his chest.

“What does the boar have to do with any of this?”

Sylvain’s measured voice only serves to make Felix’s ears ring harder. “Felix it’s been five years. He was at the party, even if you didn’t see him. I know you still care.”

“Like you understand any of it! You weren’t there!”

“I wasn’t,” Sylvain allows, and repeats, softer. “I wasn’t. So maybe I jumped the gun and you’re not ready to talk about this now but—”

“Maybe save psychoanalyzing me for when you can spend one night alone in your own bed, Sylvain.”

Sylvain takes the sentence as the blow it was intended to be, expression hardening.

Felix spots the cat. Still malnourished, limping across the crosswalk. His body acts on reflex, dashing into the street.

Brakes. Swerving.

Felix’s life does flash before his eyes this time: he sees himself as a child, snowball fights with Glenn, Ingrid, Dimitri, sneaking out past curfew in military school to trade blows, Glenn and Dimitri’s deployment, bloody teeth on the counter, Dimitri’s trial, his promise with Sylvain, the fucking cat, bleeding out on the sidewalk, two sets of footprints—

And he’s yanked back onto the curb.

“Felix, shit! That was way too close. Are you okay?”

He’s looking at Sylvain, wide-eyed and breathless.

For some reason, the first thing out of Felix’s mouth instead of the intended thanks is: “A fucking taxi cab. I told you.”

“So watch where you’re going!” Sylvain shouts, visibly agitated. “What the hell, Felix?”

Felix’s heart is in his ears. He almost died. No, he almost died again, and for what? Words leave him him without permission, like Sylvain knocked loose the seal on a fire hydrant.

“Fuck off Sylvain, I would have been fine! I didn’t ask you to protect me!”

“You’re not serious,” Sylvain repeats, incredulous. “You’re really yelling at me, now. Right now?”

“I said fuck off! Just leave me alone!”

And now Felix is running. Legs taking him as fast as he can away from this moment and toward whatever’s left of that stupid cat. He chases it back into the park, scooping it up before it can shimmy under the fence to walk across the iced-over lake. It goes lax in his arms.

Felix, in a moment of exhausted triumph, leans against the short fence. He’s older now. He’s fine. The cat purrs quietly in his arms, and Felix feels a little better.

Then he doesn’t.

“Dammit,” he whispers.

He should probably apologize to Sylvain when he sees him next. He doesn’t know where to start with Dimitri. What the hell was he supposed to do?

At least he got the cat. Everything else can fall into place when Felix is somewhere quiet, indoors, and unlikely to kill him. The cat is just as cold as it was earlier, ribs still protruding. Felix wonders for a fleeting moment if it needs a vet and then he isn’t holding the cat.

His arms are empty, cradling nothing at all. There’s no heartbeat in his arms, no mangy creature.

He’s still outside. It’s still snowing.

The cat was there, he was holding it, and now he wasn’t.

The fence creaks, tips, and before Felix can think twice about it, he falls into the frozen lake.

#dimisylvix #sylvix #dimilix #fire emblem three houses #my fic #been a minute since I've posted -anything- tumblr is a different place now #yet somehow the same #hi

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