#if you can't tell I spent all of yesterday just taking shots

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

His Forever Valentine.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - happy valentines day you sexy people, mwah !!

word count - 4.3k

in which, you and harry have been each others valentines for what seems like forever, it all started back in 2014, and now, in 2024, your love story is still going strong, so when you look back on memories from over the years, the two of you realise just how far you’ve really come.

February 14th, 2024.

You let out a soft huff.

Last night, you and your husband had taken part in some secret little rendezvous and that had meant that clothes were discarded all over the floor, which you had left until this morning to be cleaned up.

So now, here you were.

As you tidy up the bedroom, picking up clothes strewn across the floor, your foot suddenly collides with something solid.

You glance down and notice a shoebox with "Valentine's Day" scrawled across the lid. Curiosity piqued, you bend down to pick it up, recognizing it as the container for your cherished Polaroid camera and the collection of snapshots you and your husband have taken on Valentine's Days past.

With a gentle tug, you open the lid, revealing a treasure trove of memories captured in instant film. Each photograph tells a story of love, laughter, and shared moments over the years.

You smile as you sift through the images, remembering the joy of each Valentine's Day celebration spent together.

The camera nestled among the Polaroids brings back memories of spontaneous snapshots, impromptu poses, and candid shots captured in the heat of the moment. It's a tangible reminder of the love that has grown and deepened between you and your husband since you first embarked on this journey together.

As you hold the camera in your hands, you're transported back to those special moments frozen in time. From romantic dinners to adventurous outings, each Polaroid is a testament to the bond you share and the memories you've created together.

You can't help but laugh softly as you descend the stairs, the shoebox cradled carefully in your arms. Entering the living room, you find your husband seated, still clad in his workout attire from his early morning gym session.

As you approach him, you place the box gently on his lap, causing him to look up at you with a puzzled expression, a crease forming in his eyebrows as he registers the unexpected gift.

"It was tucked away in the bedroom," you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. "I thought it would be nice to take a trip down memory lane together."

Feeling his warm lips pressing against the top of your head, you lean into his affectionate gesture, savoring the moment of closeness. As he opens up the box and pulls out the first Polaroid, a wave of nostalgia washes over you.

The image captures him back in 2013, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he holds a rose between his teeth.

You remember that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. It was your first Valentine's Day together, and he had surprised you with a romantic gesture that had left you speechless.

Seeing the Polaroid now, you can't help but smile at the memory of his playful antics and the joy it had brought you.

As he gazes at the photograph, a fond smile tugs at his lips.

"M’remember this," he murmurs, his voice laced with affection. "That was such a fun day."

The memory floods back, enveloping you in a cascade of emotions as you revisit that magical Valentine's Day four months into your relationship with Harry. You can still feel the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest as you try to persuade him to play along with your whimsical idea.

"Come on, H," you urge, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you hold out the single red rose. "It'll be hilarious! You'll look so macho with the rose between your teeth."

Harry's expression is a mixture of amusement and reluctance as he eyes the flower skeptically.

"I don't know, babe," he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "It feels a bit silly."

But you're determined to coax him into indulging your playful whim. Fluttering your eyelashes at him, you pout exaggeratedly, knowing full well the effect it has on him.

"Please, H," you plead, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. "It'll be our little Valentine's Day joke."

Unable to resist your charms, Harry finally relents with a chuckle, a reluctant smile playing on his lips.

"Alright, fine," he concedes, taking the rose from your hand and tentatively placing it between his teeth. "But if anyone sees us, I'm blaming you."

You can't help but giggle at his mock seriousness, feeling a rush of affection for the man who's willing to go along with your whimsical antics just to see you smile.

/ /

Back in the present moment, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers delicately tracing the edges of the photograph. As he pulls it out, you feel a surge of anticipation, eager to revisit another cherished memory captured on Valentine's Day.

This time, the image transports you back to 2015, seated in a cozy restaurant with Harry across the table, his hand clasping yours tenderly.

You remember that evening vividly, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance as you savored each other's company over a romantic dinner. Harry's gaze, filled with love and adoration, never wavered from yours as you shared laughter, conversation, and stolen glances throughout the night.

As you study the Polaroid, the memory comes flooding back, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and affection. It's moments like these, captured in snapshots of time, that remind you of the depth of your connection and the beauty of your love story.

With a soft smile, Harry leans over and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, his touch a silent affirmation of the love that continues to blossom between you.

As you sit across from Harry in the cozy restaurant, the air thick with anticipation and love, you notice a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

Suddenly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Your eyes widen in surprise as Harry's words hang in the air, his hesitant demeanor only adding to the gravity of the moment.

"I have something for you," he says softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

With trembling hands, he opens the box, revealing a delicate piece of jewelry with what appears to have a key nestled within. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the significance of his gesture, your heart pounding with anticipation.

But before you can fully process the contents of the box, Harry clears his throat nervously, his gaze locking with yours.

"I... I have something else to ask you," he begins, his voice slightly shaky. "Would you... would you like to move in with me?"

Tears shimmer in your eyes as you reach for Harry's hand across the table, squeezing it tightly in a silent affirmation of your love and devotion.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "Yes, Harry, I would love to move in with you."

/ /

Harry's laughter fills the room once more as he reminisces about that special evening. With a fond smile, he looks up at you, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"That was one of the nicest evenings we've shared together," he muses, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of warmth flood your heart as you recall the joy and love that had enveloped you both on that unforgettable Valentine's Day.

It was a moment of pure bliss, a testament to the strength of your bond and the depth of your connection.

As you gaze at Harry, his laughter echoing in the room, you can't help but marvel at the journey you've embarked on together. Through the ups and downs, the laughter and tears, you've remained by each other's side, growing stronger with each passing day.

Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers brushing against the edges of the photograph with a tender reverence. As he pulls it out, you feel a rush of excitement, knowing that this snapshot holds yet another cherished memory from your shared Valentine's Day celebrations.

This time, the image transports you back to 2017, a year filled with love, laughter, and a furry addition to your family.

You remember the joyous moment vividly, the surprise etched on Harry's face as he laid eyes on the adorable puppy you had carefully chosen for him. It was a breed he had always admired, and seeing his eyes light up with delight was a gift in itself.

In the Polaroid, Harry's face is aglow with happiness as he lets the puppy kiss his cheek, his smile radiant and infectious. The bond between them is palpable, a testament to the love and companionship that would come to define their relationship over the years.

As Harry sat on the couch, oblivious to the surprise in store, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you walked into the room, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you held the squirming puppy in your arms.

"Hey, babe," you greeted Harry with a smile, trying to mask your excitement. "I have something for you."

Harry looked up from his book, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he watched you approach.

"What's that?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

With a dramatic flourish, you revealed the wriggling bundle of fur in your arms, watching as Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement any longer.

Harry's expression shifted from confusion to sheer delight as he took in the sight of the puppy, its tail wagging furiously as it sniffed the air in excitement.

"No way!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. "S’this for me?"

You nodded eagerly, your heart swelling with happiness at his reaction.

"Yes, it's for you," you confirmed, gently placing the puppy in his arms. "I know how much you've always wanted a dog, so I thought it was time we added a furry friend to our family."

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he held the puppy close, his heart overflowing with gratitude and love.

"I can't believe you did this," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "This is the best Valentine's Day gift ever."

As you watched the scene unfold before you, the room filled with laughter and the sound of happy barks, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. It was a testament to the power of love and the joy of sharing life's precious moments with the ones you hold dear.

/ /

Harry's fingers gently stroke the fur of the large, but still beloved, dog nestled next to him. Pancake, now fully grown but forever a puppy at heart, looks up at Harry with adoring eyes, a silent reminder of the bond they share.

With a nostalgic smile, Harry recalls the early days when Pancake was just a tiny ball of fur, bounding around the house with endless energy and mischief.

"Remember when he was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand?" Harry muses, his voice tinged with fondness.

You nod, your own heart swelling with affection as you watch the pair interact.

"Those were some unforgettable times," you agree, your voice soft with reminiscence. "He's grown so much since then, but he'll always be our little Pancake."

With a sense of anticipation, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his movements deliberate as he carefully selects the next snapshot to relive. As he pulls it out, your breath catches in your throat, anticipation building as you recognize the significance of the photograph.

This time, the image transports you back to a breathtaking sunset in Italy, a moment forever etched in your memory as the day Harry asked you to be his forever.

In the Polaroid, the radiant glow of the Italian sunset provides the perfect backdrop to the centerpiece of the image: your sparkling engagement ring, glimmering in the fading light. Memories flood back as you recall the magic of that evening, the air thick with anticipation as Harry led you to the terrace of your shared villa.

The setting sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as you stood hand in hand with Harry, the world seemingly frozen in time. With trembling hands and a heart full of love, Harry dropped to one knee, his eyes shining with emotion as he poured his heart out to you in a heartfelt proposal.

The air is alive with the scent of Mediterranean flowers and the soft murmur of the evening breeze. Harry's hand clasps yours tightly, his gaze fixed on yours with unwavering intensity as he leads you to the edge of the terrace, where the sun dips below the horizon in a fiery display of color.

"Close your eyes," Harry whispers, his voice tinged with excitement as he guides you to a spot overlooking the rolling hills and the sparkling sea below. You comply, a smile playing on your lips as you anticipate the surprise Harry has in store.

A moment later, you feel his warm breath against your ear as he murmurs softly, "Okay, now open them."

As you open your eyes, the breathtaking sight before you takes your breath away. The sky is ablaze with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape as the sun sets in a magnificent display of natural beauty. Candlelit lanterns twinkle along the terrace, creating a romantic ambiance that sets your heart aflutter.

"It's beautiful," you breathe, turning to Harry with a look of wonder on your face.

Harry smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes your hand in his leading you further onto the terrace until you're bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun.

And then, with a suddenness that catches you off guard, Harry drops to one knee, his hand reaching into his pocket as he pulls out a small velvet box. Your heart leaps into your throat as you realize what's happening, your breath catching as Harry's eyes meet yours, filled with love and determination.

"From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one," Harry begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "You've brought so much joy and love into my life, and I can't imagine spending another day without you by my side."

As he speaks, Harry opens the box to reveal the dazzling engagement ring nestled within, its sparkle reflecting the light of the setting sun.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, his voice soft but resolute, his eyes never leaving yours as he waits for your answer.

/ /

Harry's voice breaks through your reverie, his words a tender reminder of the significance of that day.

"I still can't believe you said yes," he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the love and wonder he felt in that moment.

You reach for Harry's hand, squeezing it gently as you relive the joy and excitement of your engagement.

"It was the easiest 'yes' I've ever said," you reply, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the photograph with a gentle reverence. As he pulls it out, his breath catches in his throat, a small gasp escaping his lips as he realizes the significance of the snapshot.

In the Polaroid, you and Harry stand side by side, radiant in your wedding attire, surrounded by the lush greenery of the church garden. The joy and love that radiate from the photograph are palpable, a testament to the happiness you both felt in that momentous occasion.

Harry's eyes linger on the image, a soft smile playing on his lips as he recalls the whirlwind of emotions that swept over him on your wedding day. It was a day filled with love, laughter, and promises of forever, a day you had both chosen to celebrate your love on Valentine's Day, the most romantic day of the year.

Little did you know at the time that Harry's best friend, Niall, had snapped the photograph, capturing the tender moment without either of you realizing it.

"M’can't believe it," Harry murmured, his voice filled with wonder as he gazed into your eyes, his own sparkling with love and adoration. "We're finally husband and wife."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of happiness wash over you as you took in the sight of your new husband, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun.

"I know," you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. "It still feels like a dream."

As you walked hand in hand through the garden, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of love and happiness. Each step felt like a dance, a celebration of your newfound union and the beginning of your shared journey as husband and wife.

"I love you," Harry whispered, his words a tender declaration of his devotion as he pulled you closer into his embrace. "I've never been happier than I am in this moment, with you by my side."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into Harry's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion. "More than words can say."

/ /

With a tender smile, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the photograph with a sense of reverence. As he pulls it out, he holds it close to his chest, his eyes shining with emotion as he gazes at the image. This, he declares, is one of his favorites so far.

In the Polaroid, Harry is fast asleep, his features softened in slumber as he lies peacefully in bed, unaware of the momentous news about to unfold. In the foreground, a pregnancy test rests on the bedside table, its result displayed prominently for the camera to capture.

You remember the moment vividly, the mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins as you prepared to share the life-changing news with Harry. With a trembling hand, you had set up the camera, carefully framing the shot to include both Harry and the pregnancy test, capturing the raw emotion of the moment for posterity.

You and Harry sat side by side under a blanket of stars, the soft glow of moonlight casting a romantic ambiance over the scene. With the night sky twinkling above you, you knew it was the perfect moment to share the life-changing news you had been keeping a secret.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you turned to Harry, your heart pounding in your chest as you mustered the courage to speak.

"Harry, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry turned to you, his eyes shining with curiosity and affection.

"What is it, love?" he asked, his hand reaching out to gently caress yours.

With a nervous flutter in your stomach, you took a deep breath before blurting out the words you had been rehearsing in your mind.

"I'm pregnant," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

At first, Harry's expression registered disbelief, his eyes widening in shock as he processed your words.

"Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached into your pocket to retrieve the pregnancy test. Holding it out to Harry, you watched as his eyes flickered from the test to your face and back again, the realization slowly sinking in.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he took the test from you, his hands trembling slightly as he examined the result. And then, as the truth of the moment washed over him, he broke into tears, his emotions overflowing as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"M’going to be a daddy," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I can't believe it."

/ /

As Harry studies the photograph, a myriad of emotions flicker across his face, from surprise to joy to overwhelming love.

"I remember this," he murmurs, his voice soft with emotion. "I had no idea what was coming."

You reach out to grasp his hand, squeezing it gently as you relive the anticipation and excitement of that unforgettable moment.

"It was one of the happiest moments of my life," you confess, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you.

With a tender smile, Harry leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"And it was the beginning of the greatest adventure of our lives," he whispers, his voice filled with love and gratitude.

And just like that your almost two year old made his presence known.

As Sebastian toddles into the room, his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement from his playtime adventures in the toy room, a delighted squeal escapes his lips at the sight of his father. With a burst of energy, he throws himself onto Harry's lap, his tiny arms wrapping around his father's neck as he snuggles in close.

Harry chuckles warmly at Sebastian's exuberance, his heart swelling with love as he wraps his arms around his son in a tight embrace.

"Hey there, little buddy," he greets, his voice filled with affection as he ruffles Sebastian's curly hair, the same curls that match his own.

Sebastian giggles gleefully, his eyes sparkling with joy as he gazes up at his father. His attention is quickly drawn to the cross necklace dangling around Harry's neck, the delicate chain catching the light as it sways gently with his movements.

"Dada," Sebastian babbles, reaching out to touch the necklace with chubby fingers, his curiosity piqued by the shiny object.

Harry smiles down at his son, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of Sebastian's innocent fascination.

Sebastian's eyes widen with wonder as he continues to examine the necklace, his tiny fingers tracing the outline of the cross with gentle fascination.

"Pretty," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

Harry nods, a fond smile playing on his lips as he gazes down at his son.

"Yes, it is," he agrees, his heart overflowing with love for the precious little boy nestled in his arms.

As Sebastian sits in Harry's lap, giggling and playing with his father's necklace, you feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia wash over you. Your little boy is growing up before your eyes, each day bringing new discoveries and adventures. You can't help but marvel at how quickly time seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Determined to capture this precious moment, you reach for the Polaroid camera resting on the nearby table. With a sense of urgency, you snap a photo of Harry and Sebastian, their smiles bright and their bond palpable. The sound of the camera's shutter clicking fills the room, freezing the moment in time for eternity.

As the photo develops before your eyes, you can't help but feel a swell of gratitude wash over you. This, you realize, is what life is all about—cherishing the fleeting moments of joy and love that make it all worthwhile.

With a gentle smile playing on your lips, you reach for the pen that lays on the coffee table, its sleek design catching the light as you pick it up. Gripping it firmly in your hand, you carefully write a special little message on the underneath of the Polaroid, a message of love and gratitude that you know will warm Harry's heart when he discovers it.

Once the message is complete, you place the Polaroid neatly back in the box, its presence a tangible reminder of the love and memories you've shared together on Valentine's Day. With a sense of satisfaction, you close the lid, knowing that this small gesture will hold a special place in Harry's heart for years to come.

Turning to Harry, who sits beside you with Sebastian in his lap, you snuggle into his warm embrace, reveling in the comfort and love that surrounds you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion as you press a kiss to his cheek.

Harry's arms tighten around you, pulling you close as he murmurs softly,

"I love you both so much." His words are a tender declaration of his love, a reminder of the bond that binds you together as a family.

With another Polaroid security added to the box, your reloaded just how much you can’t wait to add even more photos as the years progress.

[joestarfoundation]

I'd love to see first times or wedding nights with the jojos. Love your work ♡

JOJOS: Wedding Night. . .

I aged-up some characters for obvious reasons. Minors DNI. Fem!Reader. English isn't my first language

AN: Since I really hate excluding characters, after this I'll post some wedding headcanons for Jolyne. I'll also publish another first time post w/ the jojos, thanks for the idea anon! This time I'll try writing longer drabbles so, perhaps in the future, I will write one shots. I think you can tell that at first I didn't want to do it, but then I said "nah, let's write something longer instead"

JoJos x Fem!Reader

Honeymoon sex drabble

Jonathan, Don! Giorno: Your honeymoon has finally arrived and you are beyond excited. The months leading up to this moment have been filled with wedding planning, stress, and nerves, but now that you are here, everything feels perfect. You melt into the kiss, your hands running through his hair and pulling him even closer

You turn around to see your new husband, him, walking towards you with a glass of champagne in hand. He looks just as excited as you are, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He hands you the champagne and you clink glasses, taking a sip and savoring the sweet taste.

As you sit on the balcony, basking in the warm sun, you can't help but feel a surge of desire for him. The way his eyes sparkle in the sunlight, the way his lips curve into a smirk when he catches you looking at him, it all makes you want him even more

You set your champagne glass down and turn to face him. Your hands reach out, pulling him closer to you until his body is pressed against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and your body responds by pressing even closer, wanting to feel every inch of him

His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and making you shiver with anticipation. As he begins to undress you, his lips never leaving yours, you feel a wave of excitement wash over you; the anticipation of finally being intimate with your husband

He couldn't help but notice your beautiful veil, which he witnessed yesterday at the wedding, so when you undressed, he didn't take off your veil

Tenderly, you both made love, him making you bounce on his cock, his mouth leaving many marks on your neck, while he called you his goddess, and in that moment, you felt like the luckiest woman in the world <3

The rest of your honeymoon is filled with passionate nights and lazy mornings, spent in each other's arms and you couldn't have asked for a better way to celebrate the beginning of your married life together nsfw link

Joseph, Jotaro: This is your honeymoon, the first night of your married life, and you can't wait to spend it with the love of your life. His hands travel down your body, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his strength, his possessiveness, and it only turns you on more. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and gentle bites. You moan softly, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues his journey down your body

He reaches the hem of your dress, his hands sliding up your thighs as he lifts the fabric up, revealing your lacy lingerie. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you

You reach his pants and quickly undo them, freeing his throbbing dick. He groans as you take him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip, driving him wild with pleasure. He grips your hair, guiding you as you continue to pleasure him. Although it wasn't exactly his intention, he was quite abrupt, moving your head against his big cock

But you are not satisfied yet. You want him inside you, filling you completely. You stand up and take off your dress, revealing your naked body to him. He knelt behind you, his eyes roaming your curves before he grabbed your hips and pushed you towards him, entering you in one swift motion

The feeling of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but moan loudly. He starts moving, his thrusts rough and powerful, taking you to new heights of pleasure

The sound of your skin slapping against each other fills the room, along with your moans and his growls. He pounds into you, his hands gripping your hips as he brings you to your climax nsfw link

Josuke, Johnny: As you lay in the luxurious hotel bed, your new husband stands before you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It's your honeymoon, and you can already feel the excitement and anticipation building in your body

He slowly walks towards you, his gaze never leaving yours as he removes his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. You can't help but feel a surge of desire at the sight of him. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss before moving down to your neck, his hands exploring your body

As he continues to explore your body with his lips and hands, you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You want him, need him, and he knows it

He finally reaches your core, his tongue expertly teasing and flicking against your most sensitive spot. You moan his name, your hands gripping the sheets as he brings you to orgasm

But he's not done with you yet. He pulls you up, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you want him more

He made you get on top of him, and grabbing your hips, he pushed you down towards him, and with one smooth thrust, he's inside you. The feeling of being connected to him in such an intimate way sends a wave of pleasure through your body

He sets a slow and steady pace, making sure to hit all the right spots, but with the passage of time he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. You can feel the pleasure building in your pussy, and you know you're close

With one final thrust, you both reach your climax, crying out each other's names as you both experience the most mind-blowing orgasm

As you both come down from your high, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both catch your breath. You can feel his love for you radiating from his body, and in this moment, you've never felt more loved and cherished<3 nsfw link

Here you can find more posts like these

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 7 🍒 "Swimming in Stars"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2,256

Summary: you and Joel enjoy a little one-on-one time in the pool and discuss your concerns about your first time together..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), slow burn, talk of sex and expectations regarding reader's first time, talk of using protection (a must, y'all!), dry humping, reader's race not mentioned, reader wears a swimsuit, story takes place in summer 2003, no use of y/n

Author's Note: this chapter is super significant to me as it highlights just how important communication is when it's going to be a couple's first time together, and especially when there's an age gap.

Series Masterlist

Joel has one rule: that you take your time. He doesn't want to rush you or make you feel like he won't wait for you because honestly, as he tells you before you go your separate ways that same summer night, "You're worth waitin' for."

Naturally it's impossible for you to sleep that night. So much has happened in just a couple of weeks. It seems that the moment you've stepped outside of the safety of the environment you've known your whole life, you're seeing exactly what opportunities await you.

And you really want this opportunity with Joel.

Now the ball is entirely in your court. You call the shots. And you don't even know where to begin except you know you want to spend more time with him. You like Joel a lot, and you want to get to know him better.

You spend the rest of the weekend with your cousin before she leaves for an international flight. Truth is, you haven't spent much time together, and it's nice to get out of the house with her to go to the mall and the movies. But every other thought is about Joel. What's he doing right now? Is he thinking of you?

Your attention is easily diverted from the latest Fast and Furious movie, and when Sofia goes for a quick restroom break you pull out your phone and text Joel: Pool party tonight. Just us. 10 pm.

Putting your phone back in your purse your heart pulsates with excitement at the riskiness of the text. You're not that bold, but somehow he makes you so.

You let the rest of the movie distract you, but truth be told you can't remember the rest of it even five minutes after leaving the theater. It's not until you're back home that you see he's replied: I'll be there, sweetheart

Sofia leaves that evening, and you are alone. You get ready, wearing the same swimsuit as last time, knowing Joel liked you in it before. You don't know what to expect of the evening, because quite honestly you invited him over on a whim. 10 o'clock comes around a lot sooner than you think, and so you lounge out on a lounge chair float, watching the stars, trying to still the rapid beating of your heart.

You hear a knock at the side gate and then a hesitant swinging open of the gate door.

"You gonna join me?" you ask. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye and smirk. "Or are you just gonna stare?"

You hear the low rumble of his chuckle and it makes your heart melt. "I'm a visual guy. I like watchin' you like that. You look so damn pretty. I just about ran every red light all the way from Tommy's place just to get here to you."

Heat colors your skin. "And Sarah? Where's she?"

"At a friend's house."

That fact seems to hang in the air between you. Now you're alone together, the discussion from yesterday seems to be the elephant in the room, so to speak.

"So you're gonna watch?" you break the silence. "Or are you gonna join me?"

He takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, a playful little smile on his lips. He looks so relaxed, so at ease in your company. "I didn't bring anything to swim in."

"You've got boxers on, right?"

"Maybe."

You chuckle, seeing that he's trying to be hard to read. You climb out of the pool and wrap a towel around your midsection, joining him on the lounge chair, in his lap. Your heart is beating like a bird trapped in a cage but it's so thrilling to finally be alone with him. He sits up and holds you, strong arms wrapping around you. In this moment you're both quiet, enjoying this tender moment. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, fingertips tracing your arms and your sides. When you kiss him it's soft and sweet, almost innocent, the tips of your tongues barely meeting.

"That night at our pool party," you tell him in an intimate whisper, "we were playing in the pool and when we hugged, I felt.. you know."

Joel slows his touch but doesn't stop. "I remember."

"Was that.. because of me?"

He gives a sarcastic little snort. "Sweetheart, your thighs were practically locked around my head. My thoughts of you were indecent. So yeah I was rock hard."

You shiver and he grabs you tighter. "That night, after I walked you home, I touched myself. I fantasized about you." It feels good to say it now, now that it's not a deep and terrible secret.

"Oh god, sweetheart. I did the same."

Every single drop of water in the pool cannot possibly douse the fire you feel in your veins for this man.

"What did you fantasize about me that night?" His breath is warm on your cheek.

"I fantasized about what you would feel like.. inside me."

A low growl escapes his throat. "You still want that from me? Want me inside?"

"Yes," you reply, even as a flurry of turmoil grows in your belly. "Soon," you reiterate.

This seems to calm him, as his breathing evens out, his gentle touch returns. "Might I ask one little favor, sweetheart?" His voice is tinged with honey. "Would you give me a little massage?"

Smiling, you brazenly straddle his lap, gently kneading his shoulders. You love the feel of his skin beneath your touch, and you marvel at how soft yet how strong he is capable of being. "You need someone to do this for you every day.."

And beneath you, you feel his desire stirring. Just a few light layers of clothing separate you. "If there were two of you, then yeah, I'd want this every day."

You laugh. "That's kinky. Why two of me? Are you saying I'm not enough on my own?" There's a teasing note in your voice.

"One of you to give me a massage and the other to make me a sandwich." He laughs as he ducks your playful whack. "What I meant to say is that with two of you.. there's more to admire?"

Nerves afire with your lively banter, you gently push your hips down on his. "Think of all the things you could do with two of me.."

His hands grip your hips firmly, squeezing. "Oh my damn god, sweetheart.. I want you so damn much," he growls.

"Then have me, Joel," you say, so easily, as if switching on a light. Your mind is clouded with lust, and every move you make is based purely on instinct rather than emotion. "You won't hurt me, will you?"

Joel sighs, his eyes soft even as he's hard other places. "Hell no. I'm gonna be so damn gentle with you."

You bite your lip, scooting off him a little to undo his belt but he gently stops you. "I need you to wait," he says.

You freeze. "What's wrong?"

"Sweetheart, you want it too fast. I'm going to give you what you want, but not like this." Frustrated, he buries his face in your neck. "God damn it I just wanna do the right thing by you."

"I guess there are a lot of specifics to work out," you murmur gently, caressing the nape of his neck.

"Such as?" he cuddles into your neck.

You feel a little embarrassed, but if you're going to eventually sleep with him you have to be able to be honest with him. "We have to think of where to do it, whether we should have a date beforehand to lead up to it. And I'm not on birth control, so we'd have to consider protection."

His hand caresses the small of your back. "We could do it at either your place or mine, and I like the idea of having a nice little romantic date beforehand." He gently traces the curve of your face with his fingertips. "I want you to feel safe with me, sweetheart. I'll get some condoms. Hell, we'll probably go through a whole box real quick."

You give a sigh of relief. "I like that we're talking about this, Joel. I don't want to go into this blind."

"I'm gonna be here for you every step of the way, even if you decide you don't want to go through with it," he swears. Looking away a moment he seems to collect himself. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"What do you mean? How would you hurt me?" you gently turn his face to look at you.

He sighs. "I don't want to be too much for you, too intense for you, especially when you've never had anyone else before. You don't know just how fuckin' bad I desire you."

"Joel.. when the time comes for us to be together, I'm going to trust you not to hurt me, not on purpose. I've heard the first time can hurt anyway, but that kind of pain will be worth it, to be with you."

He whispers your name and kisses you, stiffening when you pursue it with more passion, pressing yourself against him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "You're right. I want everything right now, but I'm not thinking. Oh god, I need a distraction," you whine. "A cold shower or something."

"A shower's out of the question just now, but I have the next best thing to cool you off," Joel chuckles and picks you up, carrying you bridal style over to the pool and it's only at the last second that you realize what he's about to do and you screech as he drops you into the water.

You surface, sputtering and wiping the water from your face. "What the hell?" Joel's gleeful chuckle sounds in your ears right before he splashes in beside you. He grabs you by the waist, both of you weightless in the water. He's rid himself of his clothes except for his boxer briefs.

"Come here," he says, kissing your lips. "You're one hell of a girl.."

He's easily forgiven. If anything you love that you've brought out this mischievous side of him. "And you're one hell of a man.." you wrap your arms around him, whispering in his ear. "And you let your guard down too easily," you tell him, pouncing on him and pushing him underwater before swimming away, laughing as you swim away.

He comes up and swims right after you, making you squeal. "You shouldn't have gotten in the pool if you didn't want to get wet." you warn him.

"Shouldn't have invited me over if ya didn't want me to get you wet," he quips, pressing you against the side of the pool where you're both semi-shrouded in darkness. "God, sweetheart, you do not know what you do to a man."

"What about what you're doing to me?" Pressed close together you feel his hardness, and now that it's just the two of you you're free to explore this, to feel the rigidity of his desire for you. "Joel.. please just rub up against me.." you ask.

This elicits another growl from him, and even in the darkness you can see the hunger in his eyes. He does as you ask, albeit gently at first, testing to see how much you want.

You gasp as you feel him, thinly veiled by the wet confines of your swim clothes. He knows exactly where you need his touch, and it's like a shock of electricity to feel that pressure on your clit. "Feels good.. right there," you whisper, clinging to him.

He kisses you deeply, pressing a bit harder, smiling when your breath hitches and becomes quicker. "You like this, sweetheart? Oh this ain't nothin' compared to the real thing."

"Joel," you whimper. "Keep going like this.. please.."

The water splashes around you as you try to keep your cries to a minimum. How can only touching feel so good? How many nerve endings can you possibly stimulate? It's as if you've never really known what your body can do, what it can become under someone else's touch.

Touching.. that's all it is. But it's enough to drive you to the edge. There's that familiar feeling, like when you're on a roller coaster and your heart leaps into your throat just before you take the first sharp dive. "Joel!" you moan, kissing him to muffle your sounds as you come: a quick, sweet shot of lightning in your veins.

As your body relaxes, Joel backs off so as not to overstimulate you, but keeps his arm around you, stroking your damp hair.

"Sorry if I was selfish," you mumble.

He laughs and puts his hand on your cheek. "You're not selfish at all. We both wanted it. And sweetheart, you look fuckin' angelic when you come." His voice is husky and sweet as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek.

You're still reeling from this experience, and in the aftermath of your orgasm you have clarity of mind, as if all your troubles have melted away. You know you'll be grateful to Joel forever. "What about you? You didn't even.."

He smiles. "Don't worry about me. You're more important."

"Are you gonna.. take care of it later?" you smirk.

"One of these days I hope you'll feel comfortable takin' care of me yourself," he smirks, making your heart do a flip flop, and you pull him closer before the night comes to an end.

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[wolfythewitch]

I love your Ulysses animations so so much. I think I watched the "I know you're a goddess" and the "This is my goodbye" one on a loop probably thirty times each since yesterday. The facial expressions are so good.

Goddess:

The way his shoulders tilt the opposite way!! The hands/arms movements in general! This is my goodbye:

the mean smile when he says "this way you won't plague my life" when five seconds ago he called her his friend and now he says he chooses to cut her out (because she threatened to do it first) and he keeps looking so sad all throughout even when he's mad and defiant and you can just feel that they care about each other (or that he cares about her. God feelings are harder to grasp) and are mad with the other I just love it so much and I feel so sad? They feel like they're taking cheap shots at each other just to hurt but they're only able to (or only need to) because they just care so much and I am so there for getting my heart ripped out like that. So, yeah, I love that smile.

the shot where she's behind him and bends to talk to his ear!!!!!!!!! I just - it's so pretty! Not in a… I dunno. Pretty might not be the right word. Powerful? I just absolutely love it. It talks straight to my hindbrain.

also Athena's design. The not-quite-humanness of her face (her eyes! (how much room they have to narrow to slits when she's pissed!) her mouth! the line economy, contrasted by Ulysses' scruffiness). Her sheer height. The way she tilts her face arrrgh I can't I just love it so much.

the way they just spent three full minutes screaming at each other but he still looks gutted when she leaves.

(for context, this is the first I hear about the musical it's from, I just, like, read the Iliad and/or the Odyssey long enough ago that I forgot most of it and have passing familiarity with the overall plot and a few select scenes but not much more)

AHHH THANK YOU SGDJDHD

Wait actually I wanna talk about some frames agah

So with these frames specifically. On the first one, I wanted him to look like he's searching her expression for any shred of remorse or regret or anything to hint that maybe she cares. Then he turns away, bitter, when he finds none.

And ahhhh this frame

This was the frame that got me to make the animatic. I really wanted to draw this out so that's why I started the whole thing haha. I wanted two things out of it: 1. Power imbalance. Their relationship is always gonna pretty unbalanced in terms of authority and power alone. She's a Goddess and he's a man, it's clear who's got the upper hand. 2. I wanted it to look like she was speaking directly into his ear. To show it as a cold, calculated action, and also to have it be emblematic of when advisors or generals whisper strategies to the king. She might have once done the same action to guide him, but now she's doing it to tell him she's done.

And OUGH this frame

So you've probably already caught Telemachus, Penelope, Polites, and Astyanax in the frame. But also. Also. Since this appears in the line "you're just a man", it's like. It's not quite the ghosts of the dead, since Penelope and Telemachus are there. It's more an embodiment of his loss, his weaknesses, really. What he's already lost and what he still stands to lose. He's just a man because he cares and he loves and he yearns. It's his ruin as much as it's his reason to keep fighting, at least in her eyes.

[jerzwriter]

A Different Fate - Final Chapter

OMG, it took me entirely too long to complete this, but I'm so happy now that it's done! I am so, so grateful to the anonymous (to you, not to me 😉) donor to the Write for Gaza project, who requested I finish this by the end of January. Well - I did it! And thank you so, so much - I can't tell you how much it means!

A Different Fate - Series Masterlist

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (past)

Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Sienna Trinh

Rating: Teen

Words: 3,700

Category: Short-Series/AU/Lost Love

Summary: Ethan's first attempt to talk to Casey didn't work out, but now, with Tobias & Sienna's help, will it finally work out? Or will they have to resign and accept their fate?

A/N: When I started this, it was supposed to be a one-off, and now, I'm finally done after 5 parts! It's funny how these things take on a life of their own. I know a few of you have been very anxious for this to post, and I thank you for your extraordinary patience. I hope you find it's worth it in the end! @choicesjanuary2024 Day 23 - Hope Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist | My Full Masterlist

The bus jolted forward the moment the light turned green, jostling its passengers around like dolls—every passenger except for Sienna Trinh. Growing increasingly impatient with her “charge,” she sat firmly in place, arms crossed defiantly before her chest.  

“This is a stupid idea!” She said, slapping a startled Ethan’s arm across the bus aisle.

“Oww!”

“Don’t oww, me!” She fired back. “You blew my advice off yesterday, and look how well that went. Maybe you should listen to me now.”

“I know,” Ethan droned. “But this is different.”

“Si, I have to agree with Ethan on this one,” Tobias said, his face twisting as he realized his words. “Shit! It hurt more than I expected to say that.”

“Thanks, pal.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tobias smirked. “Si, he can’t do this right now. He’d have to ambush her at work, and you see how well that went. We have a plan in place; it will be fine.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but I’m done tempting fate with these two. Something always goes wrong.”  

“Look, the bonehead has put it off eight years. It can wait another eight hours to ensure it’s done right.”

“You know,” Ethan interrupted, “it might be helpful if the two of you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”

Sienna turned to him, brow raised. “It would be great if you didn’t need the two of us here to make sure you don’t blow it!”

“She makes a point,” Tobias nodded, pleased with Ethan’s exasperation.

“Can we stick to the point?”

“The point is, you’ll speak to Kaycee tonight.”

“Yeah, after your date,” Ethan chuckled ruefully. “

“It’s not a date!” Tobias spat. “You know damn well I’m just going to the party with her to get that asshole Douglas off her back.”  

Ethan shot a half-doubtful look.

“Really?” Tobias said incredulously. “I’ve been rooting for you two since she left Boston, and this is how you treat me? Trust me, Ramsey, all Kaycee wants is you, and the last thing I’d ever want is to have you as a metamour.”

Sienna’s nose scrunched. “A meta-what?”

Tobias waved her off with a chuckle. “Trust me, Si, you’re better off not knowing. Now, stop worrying. I’ll take Kaycee to the party, give the creepy doctor a few death stares, and after a drink or two, I’ll mention you’re in town, play wingman, then you swoop in for the grand finale. We’ve got it under control.”

“Yeah,” Sienna rolled her eyes. “With you two at the wheel, what could possibly go wrong?”

~~~~~

“I’m coming!” Kaycee clumsily rushed across her apartment to answer the door, slipping into her silver heels along the way. She opened the door breathless but stunning nevertheless. “Hey,” she smiled.

A grin spread across Tobias’s face; he had forgotten how well Dr. MacClennan cleaned up. With her long blonde curls cascading over her shoulder, barely skimming the bodice of her strapless ice-blue gown, she looked more like someone who spent her day posing for Vogue than saving lives in scrubs.

“What do you think?” she grinned.

“What do I think? If this is how you look for a fake date, what the hell do you do on real ones? How many heart attacks have you been responsible for, MacClennan?” 

“Shit!” She said with a stomp of her foot. “I screwed up! I shouldn’t have brought you tonight!”

“Oh, why?”

“I should have invited Dr. Douglas himself! If I knew cardiac arrest would be the result, well, that would be one way to be rid of him.”

Tobias burst out laughing. “I forgot just how wicked you could be.”

Slipping an earring in, she winked. “I’d feel guilty about it ten minutes later. Not guilty enough to start CPR, but guilty all the same."

"Well, I'm happy to provide a less lethal way of getting rid of Dr. Jackass.”

She grabbed her clutch off the side table and looked at Tobias, casually leaning against the door.   She swore he hadn’t aged a day, still wearing that signature confident swagger as well as he wore his dark, tailor-made suit. She crossed her arms and shook her head disapprovingly.

“What?” He asked, checking his attire to see if something was wrong. “Do I not clean up as well as you?”

“Too well. If word gets out that I’m dating you, no one will ask me out again. They’d be afraid of the competition.”

He chuckled softly, visions of Ethan in his mind. “Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

Stepping to Kaycee’s side, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~

The party was exactly what one would expect to cap off the career of a renowned doctor from one of the top hospitals in the world. The rooftop ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the City’s famed skyline; fairy lights scattered throughout the room illuminated it with an ethereal glow. Warm notes from the piano wafted through the air, competing with the gentle hum of convivial chatter as tuxedoed waiters distributed flutes of  Dom Perignon. Tobias and Kaycee were on a mission and played the part of an enamored new couple so well that they earned envious stares, not only from Dr. Douglas but from several others as well. But as much fun as that was, Tobias couldn’t get his mind off his primary goal of the night: getting Ethan and Kaycee together. He looked at his watch. She only wanted to stay two hours, and they were about to hit that mark.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Wanna take a spin around the dancefloor before we blow this joint? Make this look legit?”

Wordlessly placing her empty champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray, she took Tobias’s hand and led him to the dancefloor. Ironically, finding the most privacy they’d had all night. 

“Dancing was a good idea,” she said. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t leave a party without dancing... and it’s not like you’re a stick in the mud that would refuse me.”

“Kacyee, it would be difficult for anyone to refuse you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled sadly, “You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t know about that. For Christ's sake, you used to get Ramsey to dance back in the day. I thought only an act of God could accomplish that!”

Kaycee’s body tensed, and her feet seemed to forget what they were supposed to do. As she stood still on the dance floor, Tobias looked her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Kaycee shook her head and continued to dance. “It’s been so nice seeing you, but it takes me back, and sometimes, that can be hard, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. It takes me back, too, but is that such a bad thing? We had some good times.”

“Ha! It all depends,” she chuckled. “Do you have a time machine? Because I’d be happy to go back, but only if I could write a different fate.”   

“I can’t do that,” he sighed. “Not the time machine part, but... maybe I can help with the different fate.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Follow me.”

Kaycee remained silent as they ran down the plushly carpeted hall. But, when they found an empty banquet room, she wanted answers.

“OK, we’re alone now. What’s going on?”

“I want to talk to you about Ethan.”

Kaycee shook her head, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.   

“We did that. We had that conversation at dinner the other night. We don’t need to do it again.”

“Did we have that conversation? Because as far as I remember, I didn’t tell you that he was here.”

“He’s what? He’s here... like in New York?”

“I’ll do one better,” he smiled. “He’s sitting at the bar in the lobby.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Tobias wasn’t sure if he saw shock or anger flickering in them.

“You told me he was in Boston. You said he refused to come with you!”

“He was. Or at least I thought he was. But when I got to my hotel that night, he was there.”

She crossed her arms smugly. “So he came to attend the conference. Right?”

“Nope. He didn’t come for the conference. He came here for you.”

“For me?” Her voice cracked. “He came here for me. Yet he’s been in town for two days and hasn’t reached out to me once.”

“Well... about that. He did. He stopped by Langone yesterday and sort of heard you tell Dr. Douglass that you had a thing... for me.”

Kaycee felt her stomach drop. “No!”

“Yes.”

“No, no, no, no! He doesn’t really think I want you, does he?”

“Hey, don’t act so disgusted!” Tobias said defensively. “Believe it or not, most people would kill to get with this... but Ethan knows you’re not one of them. I can’t give you a time machine, but you can give yourself a second chance.”

She remained silent, her heart beating faster as she stared out the window into the night.

“Tobias, it’s taken me eight years to say his name without crying. To recall our time together and feel whistful, not just sad. I’m content with my life here, and if I open that door and it slams shut once again... I don’t know that I could take it.”

“Kaycee, you’re right. Eight years have passed, and a lot has changed. Like you – you’re not a young, wide-eyed resident anymore. You have a brilliant career that can only be attributed to one thing – and that’s you. No one could dare say you made it because you were involved with him. You love each other. Why keep denying it.”

“He loves me?” She asked. “He used those exact words.”

“Well, he didn’t actually say the words, but... why would he say them to me? Why don’t you give him a chance... to say them to you?”  

“But Tobias,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “What if... what if it doesn’t work?”

“But Kaycee... what if it does?”

~~~~~

Boston and Philadelphia had skyscrapers for sure, but neither city could hold a candle to New York, and right now, Kaycee couldn't be more grateful to the town she now called home. Sixty-eight floors, she thought, taking a tentative step into the elevator. Sixty-eight floors stood between her and the lobby, and she hoped they’d stop at each one.

Standing in the back corner, she relied on the walls to keep her upright as passengers piled in. She needed time. Time to think, to decide what she’d say, to breathe.... sixty-eight floors should have given her the time she needed to center and gain a semblance of composure. But it went by in an instant, and when the elevator doors began sliding over, all she could do was watch in horror.

Her head was spinning, and her mind was lost in a cloud of confusion. Ethan was waiting in the lobby... for her? It couldn’t be real. Tourists and locals alike chatted happily about their evening plans as they stepped out, a direct contrast to Kacyee, who stood frozen in fear. Only the elevator operator’s gruff voice brought her back to reality.

“Ma’am, are you getting out?”

She turned to him, then back to the door, and considered returning to the grand ballroom. But something inside her stirred. Tobias was right; she was no longer playing the part of the ingenue, filled with hope and naivete that were somehow both her greatest strength and weakness. No, she was a big girl now, and whatever happened when she walked through that door... she’d be able to handle it.  

“Ma’am," the man repeated with increased irritation. “Shall I close the doors?"

“Uhm. No," she said, standing upright and dusting off the front of her gown. “No. I’m getting off here.”

The world seemed to move in slow motion as she stepped into the lobby. If this were a movie, Ethan would be waiting across a crowded room, their eyes would meet in an instant, and the credits would roll as soon as they shared a perfect kiss, one that left no doubt that they were destined for happily ever after. But real life seldom ran so smoothly, as Kaycee was about to confirm. She looked all around, to the left and the right, but no sign of him. She walked the perimeter of the room, even just outside, and still... nothing. Tobias said Ethan would be at the bar, so she returned and hopped on a stool to wait and wait. She was patient at first, but five minutes passed, then ten. Her fingers began to rap against the rich mahogany countertop when it reached fifteen, and by twenty? By twenty, she had enough.

Standing up with a weary sigh, she chastised herself for opening that door even a crack. You should have learned by now, she thought as she headed toward the exit. She was almost outside when she saw Tobias coming off the elevator. She turned on her high heel and headed his way. Why lambast herself if she could lambast him? He didn’t see her coming and reacted with surprise when he felt the shove on his shoulder.

 “He’s here, huh? He’s waiting for me at the bar? Well, guess what? He didn’t show!”

“Kaycee,” Tobia started, but she wouldn’t allow him to speak.

“No! Don’t Kaycee me! This is precisely l why I didn’t want to get my hopes up! This is how it always ends with us... either he walks away, or he doesn’t show... and I swore I wouldn’t put myself in this position again!”

“Kayce, if you’d just let me....”

“NO! No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say because all that matters is that he’s not here! He’s not here, and....”

Her breath hitched when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Is that....” she whispered.

“You know,” Tobias smirked. “You might want to turn around.”

She turned around slowly, and just like that, life was imitating art. A feeling of warmth surrounded her the moment their eyes met. He may have aged a little, but she’d know him... she’d know those eyes... anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, handing her a single red rose. “I stepped out to buy this from a street vendor. I thought it would be a nice touch.”

With her heart racing, she lifted the flower to her nose and inhaled its fragrant scent.

“And that took twenty minutes?” she grinned, putting Ethan at ease.

“Well, I also needed to go to the men's room. It took more than one glass of Scotch to get up the nerve to offer you an apology that could make up for eight years.”

“Ethan,” she whispered, at a loss for words.

“Well, this is the shittiest rose ceremony I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had to suffer through many an episode of The Bachelor,” Tobias observed. He pat Ethan on the back. “Nice touch, a little cheesy, but not bad for you.”

“You can go now,” Ethan grumbled.

“I was planning on it,” Tobias nodded at Kaycee, then looked Ethan in the eye. “You two can take it from here. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Can we?” Kaycee asked once Tobias was gone. “Can we take it from here, or will one of us mess it up somehow?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” he smiled. “Why don’t we go someplace and talk.”

~~~~~

She couldn’t remember leaving the hotel lobby or how they decided where they would walk. All she knew was they ended up strolling along Central Park West, a comfortable distance between them, as she chattered aimlessly about nothing at all. Anything to avoid an awkward silence or, worse yet, an awkward conversation. While Kaycee faced straight ahead, Ethan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. He was afraid if he took his eyes away, she’d disappear, and he wouldn’t allow that. Then, even in the dim streetlights, he saw her starting to shiver, and without missing a beat, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, bringing her to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a half step back. “You looked cold.”

“Yes,” she smiled nervously. “It is... it is getting cold.” She motioned to a food truck on the edge of the street and smiled. “I’d suggest we get coffee to warm up, but I know that wouldn’t meet your standards.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked. “Go. Go sit on that bench, and I’ll get us some.”

“You’re going to drink coffee... from a food truck?”

Ethan shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I have to start living a little sometime. Tonight sounds like the perfect time to start.”

He walked away, and Kaycee hollered after him. “Wait, you didn’t ask how I wanted my coffee."

He turned around with his hands in his pockets and utter confidence. “At this hour? Decaff. Definitely, decaff with a splash of milk, preferably almond, but if they don’t have that, plain milk will do. And Splenda, two Splenda... even though you know they’re not good for you.”

A slow smile spread across Kaycee’s lips. “You... remember.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I remember everything.”

“Well, I take three Splenda now,” she winked, and he felt his heart flutter.

“Go sit,” he smiled, and she all but skipped away.

She watched his silhouette in the ethereal light, still attempting to convince herself this was real. But she had to believe it was true when she felt the steaming hot cup in her hand. She watched with anticipation as Ethan took a sip from his cup and couldn’t help but laugh when he tried to contain a grimace.  

“Oh, it’s funny,” he smiled. “Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

“No,” she whispered, gently taking his hand and placing her coffee on the bench beside her. “No, I think we’ve both suffered plenty, and I don’t want either of us to suffer anymore.”  

The touch of her hand impacted him more than he could have imagined, and he found himself unable to speak. He turned to her with tears in his eyes, just managing to mutter her name before pulling her into a tight embrace. Kaycee buried her face in his shoulder, taking in the warm, familiar scent she used to know so well. One of Ethan’s hands was entangled in her curls, while his other arm pulled her as close as he possibly could. They stayed there a long while, silent and amazed at the reality – both had assumed if this day were ever to come, it would be filled with fireworks. An explosion of passion that couldn’t be felt miles away. But the reality was different. It was warm, safe, comforting, a loving embrace each had desired for so long – it wasn’t fireworks, it was coming home.  

“I can’t believe you’re here,” her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you’re in my arms.”

“I’m trying to believe it myself,” he said, pulling back to gaze into her crystal blue eyes. His hand cupped her chin, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. What kind of fool am I depriving myself of seeing this face for so long?”

Kayce reached up to take his hand, gently placing a kiss on it. “Then, shall we try to rectify that now?”

“We could. If that’s what you want.”

Kaycee sat back with a smile so gentle and warm Ethan didn’t need words to know her answer. She reached up and messed up his hair. “How did we screw us up so badly? I mean, I can blame it on being young and stupid, but you didn’t have that luxury.”

Laughing, he took her hand. “You may have been young, but you were never stupid. You knew so much more than me. I know there’s no fairy godmother that will show up with a magic wand, and I know we will still have things to work out. But the thing I know most of all is that I love you. I love you with all my heart, and I’ve wasted too many years without you by my side. I’m determined to put an end to that as soon as I can.”

“You love me,” she sighed. “Well, that’s good... because I love you. I love you so much.”

Ethan reached over and embraced her, letting out a joyful groan as he lifted them to their feet. She held on tight as he spun her around, stopping to gently put her back down. They stood face-to-face, a world of memories crossing their minds as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Time and distance had done nothing to them; their love remained the same. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, lighting a flame that had flickered but never extinguished. It was more than a kiss. It was a promise, a silent vow that was a testament to their love, which had never, ever died.

“We can’t screw this up, Ethan,” she said as they broke away. “If we’re going to do this, I want this to be forever. I can’t lose you again.”

“Good!” He grinned brighter than she had ever seen. “Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ethan offered his arm, which she gladly accepted, nuzzling her head into his shoulder as they started to walk.

“So, where are we going?” She asked.

“Well, I do have a hotel room nearby.”

Kaycee playfully nudged him. “A hotel room? Mister, I have a whole apartment, and it’s quite nice! You know, your girl did all right for herself!”

“Oh, I’ve kept tabs on you. I know you did.”

“Then let’s go!”

As they walked to her apartment, they passed the café Kaycee had dined in not too long ago, and she told Ethan the story of that night. How two estranged lovers had come together, and he professed his undying love. She relayed how she was trying to listen in on their conversation, but in the end, she didn’t need to since the young man yelled it out for all to hear. The crowd applauded, and she secretly paid their bill. It was straight out of a movie.

“I’m glad you got to see that,” Ethan smiled. “You always loved a happy ending.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “And now, I’ve got one of my own.”

(Yep that last part was from Part 1. 😊)

Thanks so much for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Fluff? Fluff. Only slightly sexual. Tseng x Gunsmith!Reader. It doesn't matter if it's noon or midnight. If Tseng feels like there's something off about his firearm, he's on his way to you. He’ll never take no for an answer since it's “what we pay you for.” 

*****

“One of these days, this crappy 1911 is going to get you killed.” You couldn't help the irritation seeping into your voice. Nor could you stop yourself from giving Tseng a lecture about upgrading his firearm entirely. Considering he woke you from your sleep at 2am, you had the right to be in an unpleasant mood. The frequency in which Tseng has come by over his weapon has been increasing quite a bit in the past couple of months. You weren't even sure what spare parts you had left for his gun right now. 

Pulling the slide back, resulting in a failed attempt to chamber a round. Next, dropping the magazine and dislodging the now stuck bullet. Giving Tseng a disapproving look over your kitchen table as you tried loading the gun a few more times, resulting in the same misfeeding problem. You were too tired for this shit. Going over your usual inspection, you note a considerate amount of damage as you break down the gun. ‘Is that rust?’ You think to yourself, as many parts as you've replaced in the last couple of months that just shouldn't be. You've never spotted rust on his weapon before either, Tseng has always gone out of his way to keep his 1911 oiled and clean. So why did the entire assembly look so...neglected? 

That's when it dawned on you. Tseng didn't need to be here. He wanted to be here. You weren't sure how you didn't catch it sooner, but this wasn't his usual firearm. One look at the grips could've told you that.  Giving Tseng a chance to confess to his actions, asking when the last time he used the gun was. 

“Yesterday's target practice. I could only get a few shots off before it started jamming.” Lies, he was lying through his perfect teeth. 

“So what made you change pistols? Didn't like the upgrades I did to the last one?” You can't help the smirk dancing on your lips as Tseng frowns, knowing that he was caught red-handed. 

“Can you fix it or not?” Deflecting. It was his strong suit, that's for sure. Of course you could. You already planned on rebuilding it to ensure its full functionality.

“Yes,” you start, making your way around the table until you were standing directly in front of Tseng. Grabbing his face gently so he was forced to look at you. “Why don't you tell me why you're really here.” 

You knew why. You just wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Everything sounds so much better when it's coming directly from the source, especially if that source is Tseng. With the routine the two of you have fallen in, it's a wonder he still comes up with excuses just to see you. Popping up to ask you questions that you were sure he knew the answer to. At times certain he was lying when he'd complain about defects in his firearm. Often finding nothing to be wrong with it at all, but humoring him by replacing the parts that he claimed may be troublesome. Usually taking care of any additional 'needs' he may have afterwards.

Tseng grabs the back of your thighs, fingers grazing your ass as he guides you to straddle his lap. Looking up at you with soft brown eyes, his voice a bit too shy in comparison to his actions. “I just wanted to see you. It's been a while.” 

“It's been a week.” Placing a quick kiss on his lips, hearing him mumble that it had been ‘a long week without you’ before he pulled you into a much deeper kiss. Not breaking away from you as he picked you up and pressed you against the table.

Sleep would have to go on the back burner for now. Knowing Tseng, he would have his way with you until he was fully spent. Making sure to keep a mental note to inform Tseng he doesn't have to come up with excuses to come by. If he wants you. He can have you. 

****

I was just staring at a lot of Tseng and finally noticed boyo uses a 1911. At least it looks like it. Makes sense considering it's known as a government issued firearm. Not a fan of 1911's…maybe it's due to small hands. Or the fact that I have yet to go through a session where a 1911 doesn't jam. (I cannot confirm if it's a 1911 as I can't find anything about his gun. Just based off of what I see)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

black and blue

(AO3 Mirror) (Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist) (Event Info)

-> part of my 6k followers event!

Tape 1 // Side B Track 06: Jonny - Faye Webster Joel Miller x unrequited love

summary: You spend a night with Joel. You finally realise his true feelings.

warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, very very angsty.

a/n: or; the inherent horror of being in love with Joel Miller.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jonny, did you ever love me?

Jonny, help me figure it out

Not that I've paid attention,

But you haven't said it out loud

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like you've spent half a lifetime looking at the back of Joel Miller's neck. And it's grown on you; so much so, you're almost disappointed to see the curve of jaw when he looks back. 

If he looks back. 

Joel is careful, takes patrol more seriously than you seem to; rifle in his arms like it's an extension of himself. You suppose it is: he's got the arc of bullets etched into bone. It's out of necessity, you think, but he's too good at it; leaning into the recoil and watching it rip it into something else.

"Think m'deaf, in this ear." He says, one quiet night. A lifetime ago, yesterday; it doesn't matter. 

You trace the shell of his ear with a fingertip. He flinches slightly. The muscles at his neck are stiff, tense even as he's splayed out on the sheets. 

"I know, Joel." Slowly, he curls back into your side; trained on your lips, flicking up to look at ppyour eyes. He doesn't like looking you in the eye, you've noticed. "Thought you were ignorin' me, for a while. Turns out you just can't hear for shit."

He laughs, a rumbling that shakes bone in that way you like. He doesn't laugh enough, you think, too bogged down by the weight of surviving .

But in that safehouse, one of your usual haunts on an overnight, it's the only thing you can hear. You fall asleep to it; the closest thing to joy you've felt in years; taking the form of secrets whispered in a hazy glow, told to you between heartbeats and careful kisses. 

Like a dream, it's all gone in the morning. 

You bundle yourself into boots and tattered clothes; whilst Joel triple checks the perimeter. There's a wordless exchange when he gets back, as you hand him extra bullets for his rifle. A brush of fingers so soft, it feels violent. He doesn't look you in the eye. 

You're back to staring at Joel's head; counting the clumps of gray hairs that curl up at the nape of his neck. He's wearing that denim shirt you hate – the same one he always leaves the QZ in and the very same you took off of him last night. You don't hate it because he looks bad; it's quite the opposite in fact. You hate it because it's the only thing he's superstitious about – a crisp collar and the top bottom undone, and it means a good run. It scares you, sometimes. If Joel Miller's searching for something to believe in, something lucky, what hope in hell did the rest of you have? 

He seems antsy, today. Restless, scratching at his neck more than usual. You keep a steady pace behind him, crunching glass and rubble underfoot. The city is… quiet. But whilst you've learnt not to stick your head in the mouth of a gift horse, to be grateful and not think too hard, you can tell: Joel's more than a little unsettled. 

He brings his hand up, stopping dead in his tracks. There's a broad palm at your shoulder, and then he's looking around, bringing the rifle up to his chest. You can't see anything out of the ordinary but you trust Joel with your life. If something feels off to him, then it is. 

There's a crunch of brush underfoot. Something whizzes past you; the spray of bullets, and all of a sudden, you're knocked onto your knees. It hurts; sharp pain at your shoulder, but you're scrambling to your gun and eventually you stagger to your feet. Joel's much quicker, dispensing a quick bullet or two in the direction of the shots; and you hear the thud of a body in the undergrowth. Someone lunges towards him from behind, and you're on him like a shadow – a small blade drawn and ripping his throat apart with its edge. With the little strength you have, you turn, back against Joel; using the spluttering body as a shield to advance towards another attack. You're deflecting the rounds of a small handgun; antique, by the looks of it; and then Joel's finishing off the job as you roll away at the last second. Three efficient shots, and they're both dead. 

"We need to–" Fuck, you're gasping, clutching at your shoulder and barely registering the blood that pumps from the wound. Joel seems shell-shocked, eyes wide at you. You're putting a hand on him, squeezing tight, trying to tell him to snap out of it . "Not enough time, Joel…n-need to secure the area. Make sure there's not more coming– ffuck–" 

And then you're doubled over with pain, half-collapsed on his chest; clutching at the fabric of that stupid shirt he always wears. 

"Joel, " You're in tears now, gritting through it because God, why isn't he listening?" Joel, I n-need you to–" 

"I know, darlin'," He's slinging the rifle over his back, scooping you up as best he can in his arms. His voice is soft, oh so gentle; and it's all you can do to not melt into his touch. "Let's get you somewhere safer, okay?" 

And you want to argue, tell him you're fine , there's bigger things to worry about right now. You want to kick, scream, and everything in your body wants to tell him to run; but his chest is so soft, so warm…

He's leading you towards the remains of an abandoned apartment complex, about a half mile away. It peeks out from spindly trees, blurry around the edges. Your vision wanes, Joel's face being the last thing you see; and he's not looking at you, face tight and desperate as you stagger towards safety. 

When you come to, you're delirious. The room is hot; damp and dark despite moonlight and cool air streaming in from an open window. You stagger towards it, sticking your head out for some much needed respite, but it does little to relieve you. Ever so slightly, you lean against the windowpane and pain rockets at your shoulder; throbbing and sharp. It leaves you reeling backwards, clutching at the wound. There's a rough bandage wrapped tightly around it; and you're horrified to realise it's caked in dry blood. Fuck. Head pounding, you curl up on the floor, trying your best not to panic. It's a lot of blood to lose, and you're feeling dizzy with just the thought. 

You're scrambling for the medbag; a little canvas sack inside one of your packs on the floor. It hurts, but you grit through the pain, rummaging through clothes and whatever's left of your food. Half of its contents are strewn on the floor when you realise: it's in Joel's bag, which is nowhere to be seen. 

There's a thought that creeps in when you realise: you don't know where he is. He's well and truly gone, if he's taken his bag. How long has it been? Has he really left you here? Hot and cold and shriveling all at the same time; he's left you here to die. And you can't even blame him; he's done more than most people would in this kind of situation. You lay back on the floor, ignoring the pain at your shoulder.

You're light-headed, cycling through hot flushes and then freezing cold; likely battling the beginnings of an infection. And you've lost a lot of blood; of which you've seen countless people die from less. Too far out from the QZ to survive the journey, and here, at least you can see the sun when it rises. Maybe he did you a kindness. Maybe this is Joel's way of saying goodbye. 

Delirium sets in and makes you think of a life without all this. Where you and Joel have something real – something more than two lonely bodies in orbit around one another. You're not stupid; masochistic, maybe, but not a fool. The nights you've spent together, secrets told in the form of arms around one another and tender kisses; were things to bury in shadowy graves left by moonlight. That's what you feel like, sometimes, wrapped around his back and listening to the fall and rise of his chest; swallowed up by the shadow left in Joel Miller's wake. 

The quiet hurts far more than anything else. You try to fill it up with something other than vicious empty; laughing at the shit lot in life you've drawn. You're in love with him: piece-of-shit , too-far-gone , this-will-end-in-tears-or-blood-or-both-sweetheart, Joel Miller. 

You say it to the wind, to the arms you think you're imagining that scoop you up from the floor. Your hands are numb, losing all feeling as you claw at rough denim; watery laughter ringing out in the little room. 

"T-Think I love you, Joel." You say to the pale face that burrows into the crook of your neck. A ghost, maybe, that whispers back. 

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

~~~

You wake up with the sun on your side, streaming through windows. Body creaking, you sit up. Pain rockets to your shoulder, stabs at your stomach; but the dull kind that throbs - rather than sharp and shooting, like last night. 

Last night. In a haze, you trace featherlight touches on somewhat clean bandages. Wrapped over your wound, you don't feel like you're dying, at least. 

You're still reorienting yourself when Joel pads into the room; muddy and panting. There's blood caked onto his sleeves when he shoots forward; one hand in yours and the other around your waist. He helps you down back onto the concrete, grasping your face to turn it this way and that. 

He's inspecting you; thumbs just below your eyes to check your pupils, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. Hot to the touch, but you swat him away. 

"Joel– Joel. " You try to wrench yourself away, but your muscles are too weak to overpower his. "I'm good. I feel much better than yesterday, and–" 

" Yesterday? " He strains, and his gentle tone gives you whiplash. "It's been a couple days ."

"...what?"

"You've been in and out of it for a while," He clears his throat, and gives a watery laugh. It sounds more rueful, than happy, you think. "And I've been givin' you food and water where I can, cleanin' your wound, and looking for meds."

With that last part, you notice a clear vial by his side, taking it into your hands with a shaky grip. You recognise the label as a strong painkiller, and the bottle's almost empty. 

"Been doin' what I can. That's from an outpost not too far from here." Joel looks guilty. "But…"

You hear the rest of that sentence. No antibiotics. Running out of clean water. No way to properly disinfect the wound. In about as many words, the ones he doesn't say, you'll die of infection long before you reach the QZ. 

"I don't know what to do, sweetheart."

He puts your hands around his face, pleading in a way you've never seen before. 

"You always been smarter than me, so just tell me what to do a-an' I'll do it, no complaints."

"You got more of these?" Your voice is hoarse. He nods. "They're pure? " 

A throaty, "Yes ma'am." is all he can manage. 

You put the vial in his hand. "You take these to the QZ, and you sell 'em."

The rest of it goes unsaid. It doesn't stay like that, snatched up from the ether and wispy sunlight. 

"I can't jus' leave you– " 

"You can. You will." You're trying to keep your face hard and lean-lined. You can't crack, not now – you need to be firm, or Joel will do some stupid shit in the name of family. 

Quieter now, you say, "You tell Tess, I love–" 

"–No. " He's shaking his head vehemently, clutching your hands like they're going to break. "No, no, no. None of that bullshit. You'll tell her yourself when we get ourselves out of this one. W-When–" 

His voice breaks, and you're standing up, off of the concrete to marvel at a brilliant blue sky. Joel crumples into himself, trying so hard to keep himself together. 

"Joel," You stretch out a hand, rough palms kissing his, and you lead him towards the window. "It's a lovely day, today. Clear skies. The usual route will take 3 days, maximum. You can make it in 2."

You smile. 

"I like those odds. Don't you?" 

"Come with me. " He whispers, turning to you. "You want me to beg? 'Cuz I will. I'll get on my knees, and I'll beg until you say yes."

And you know he would; stubborn, pig-headed Joel Miller would drag you both to the QZ out of sheer willpower. Even souped up on painkillers, you know, you'd be dead by nightfall. 

He can't be here when you do. You can't let him carry that around for the rest of his life, so you shake your head, weakly. For some reason, that's the one that takes; the one that has him doubled over the sill in a moment of weakness. 

You crouch down next to him, and then sit, back flat on the wall. Taking his hand, you wrap it up in both hands; warming it up for him. He stills, coming to sit down like you do. 

"I love you." He says, and he's looking at you; boring into soul. And then he reaches over, gently, to capture your lips in a kiss; searing and messy. 

Separating, you look at him. Just looking, and you blink back a few hot tears. Joel has never been a good liar, not when it counts. 

You're crying now, properly , face squeezed up into a ball; trying to clamp down heaving sobs. Even now, he's being so kind, trying to give you something to hold on to; and you want, so desperately, to fall headfirst into that delirium, to die with that feeling of love and being loved. But you can't. Because–

"I know." You say it between sobs. "I-I know , Joel. Have for… for a while."

All he does is nod, brows softening, and then he's capturing you in a big hug in solid arms. You cry into his chest, and it feels like the safest place in the world. 

When you separate, you're giving him watery kisses; on his good ear, on his bad ear, on his cheek, and on his forehead. You kiss his knuckles, black and blue, for good measure. He doesn't kiss you back. 

He rummages through his pack before he leaves, digging out three clear vials and clean needles. They're pressed into your hands wordlessly, with only Joel's eyes – big, brown, expressive – to tell you what he thinks you should do with them. That last brush of hands is all he leaves you with, and a quiet nod. 

You think you prefer it that way; left in that room the way he always does after your time together. Once again, you're left staring at the back of Joel's head; grey curling around the nape, and rough knapsack slung over his coat. 

This time, he looks back; and you commit it to memory, holding it close to your chest in that sunny haze. You love him, you do: that piece of shit, too far gone, this will end in blood or tears or both, sweetheart; Joel Miller. 

_

_

_

Joel Miller taglist: @scarletsloveletter @cyberwears @neithriddle @traiitorjoe @aawdrea @itsame-sesame @bvbdudette @ravenpoe67 @mypurplewinee @spiderlyla @thatpinkshirt

[belit0]

2000 Word Commission (Uchiha Obito / Fem Reader) @moroseu

"Alrighty for this one imma let you pick between Madara or Obito since you write both of them so well 🥹💗 If you could write in a modern AU about ex-lovers reconnecting online? He accidentally likes an old risque photo of reader during a work break and she notices immediately because she misses him too. Which leads into some spicy texts or phone call👀"

You know I had to choose Obito for this commission because which Uchiha is more capable of liking something unintentionally?!!?!?!!?

Also, thank you so much to beautiful Roseu for always supporting my work, highly grateful to my darling🙌🏻💕🛐💫

EACH COMMISSION COMES WITH AN EXTRA SECRET SCENARIO, THAT I UNIQUELY AND ESPECIALLY ADD FOR THE BUYER. (I'll leave you an example of it at the bottom, but in Spanish, so you don't cheat.)

KO-FI COMMISSIONS

His mind is fried as he opens Instagram without even thinking about it, headphones still in place and microphone ready for when the client finishes her word marathon. Uncle Madara usually makes fun of Obito and his job, saying it's just a stupid call center and his labor is way too simple, so easy he could do it without paying attention, yet he doesn't have a clue.

He has been on the phone for about an hour with Mrs. Maria Rodriguez, trying to explain why her online banking is blocked, asking for verification of certain suspicious transactions, struggling to read some legal disclosures without being interrupted. The lady, in her eighties and as lucid as a mad goat, talks on and on, ignoring all Obito's requests for time to explain himself.

He holds a Monster in his hand, the only source of strength in these times of labor adversities.

Personally, he believes that people this old should not have access to these types of lines without a family member by their side to assist, with the personified example on the phone and not being able to do anything about it. The lady speaks a mixture of broken English and fluent Spanish, mixing dialects and mistranslations into a jumble of incomprehensible sentences.

He has been staring at his computer screen for an hour with his microphone muted, tired of fighting Mrs. Rodriguez's compelling need to recount all of her family's wanderings, what she did today, what she bought yesterday, what medicines she needs refills for. The Uchiha abandoned the urge to fight against his rambling client some time ago, determined to end the call as airily as possible.

He evaluated the possibility of dropping his connection several times, fed up with being unable to follow her lead or explain the reasons for the blockages in her account, exercising all his patience on the first call of his shift. He has about seven more hours of torture ahead of him, and no idea how the day is going to end after starting out like this.

As Maria continues to babble on about how her granddaughter started school and explains she ran out of Atorvastatin for her heart problems, Obito gives up and grabs his cell phone, leaving Instagram open just to bring some comfort to his visual. He's tired of seeing Mrs. Rodriguez's account on his screen, and can't seem to get out of that situation anytime soon.

He would jump into watching TikToks, but it causes him terrible frustration having to binge them without sound, choosing muted stories as his quality poison. He can't forego the possibility of finally needing to use his microphone as soon as the client stops mumbling, simply staring at the photos people ephemerally upload.

His heart catches in his throat when he sees Shisui's story, and almost chokes on the shot of Monster he takes at that exact moment. Had he had the microphone open, Mrs. Rodriguez probably would have spent another hour telling him to watch out and be careful, to drink some water.

It's not because of Shisui himself, but because of who is posing with him in the story. (Y/N), his ex, beautiful and stunning as always, looks at him from the other side of the screen with a wonderful expression, huge smile, and looking genuinely joyful. They both model in front of a sculpture in a museum, and Obito should have assumed he would eventually come across some hint of her on his social media.

He never unfollowed her, but preferred to restrict her stories so as not to suffer whenever seeing her dating someone else, knowing that a girl as stunning as (Y/N) would not take long to find someone. She and Shisui, co-workers at his uncle's company, always had a pleasant friendly relationship, true work besties.

He is not surprised to see them together, nor does he suspect his cousin is betraying him in any way, but coming face to face with her after months of grieving is shocking. Mrs. Rodriguez brings him out of his stupor by asking him a question he fails to catch, only being aware of it by the sudden silence in the line.

He hastily opens his microphone, unwilling to lose his job and have to beg Madara to employ him, and speaks as professionally as he can muster, "Mrs. Rodriguez, as I told you a couple of times, this is Obito with Wealth Fargu, online fraud assistance trying to verify a transaction for an amount of 273.45 cents made through Zelle. Can you confirm the legitimacy of it or are you unfamiliar with the charge?"

"Ohhhh, it was probably mi hija, trying to purchesear something because it turns out..." Another huge trail of words he's not willing to hear, ringing on the other end of his headphones for approximately 45 minutes. Maria goes back to addressing her pointless monologue as the Uchiha decides to pop into (Y/N)'s profile, pressing the @ that Shisui left in his story, and see what life has thrown at her.

Their separation was neither traumatic nor terrible, two adults agreeing it was not the right time to face anything serious, let alone a relationship like the one they were in, taking the most responsible decision and opting to walk away. There are no grudges or quarrels, just words stuck on the tongue and many "I love you" to be said.

Obito scrolls through her profile, reaching the time limit where the two stopped talking and seeing each other, and clicks on the first picture. Dazzling as always, (Y/N) poses in a bikini on the beach, body sculpted by the world's most lustful gods, curves to die for, tanned to the perfect point.

He can't deny the feelings his friend downstairs feels as he admires the details of the photo, putting his Monster down on his desk and resting his phone on it as well, trying not to make mistakes and unintentionally like it. He looks at the screen from afar, with Mrs. Rodriguez in the background as she continues to tell him about her daughter, and can't help a circulation of beautiful memories in his mind.

"OBITO! MY BOY! ARE YOU THERE?!" Maria shouts on the other end of his line, startling him so much that Uchiha brings his hands to the keyboard out of instinct. The second his arm twitches in panic, he ends up inadvertently pressing against the phone screen, giving a like to the most suggestive photo he could have found on (Y/N)'s profile.

"YES, HERE I AM! DO YOU RECOGNIZE THE TRANSFER AND THE AMOUNT?!" he shouts out of sheer panic at his customer, while internally wanting to die at the sight of the phone. That red heart, lit up at the base of the screen, hunting him as if it wanted to eat him alive.

"Yes, yes, it was my daughter." Obito doesn't have the strength to answer as he should, opting to reestablish Mrs. Rodriguez's access to her online banking without the system's regulatory checks, needing to cut the call and breathe. He doesn't even say goodbye before letting go of the line, and remains transfixed staring at his computer screen.

He locks the cell phone without moving his eyes, refusing to look at it, knowing there is no way to retract the notification that has probably already arrived on his ex's device. He tosses it onto his bed, located just behind the desk he uses for work, determined to feign nonchalance in the remaining hours of his shift.

...

The clock strikes five o'clock, time for the Uchiha to finally log off, shutting down the system he uses on his computer and heading to bed. It's a Friday without much to do, having turned down some invitations to go out to stay at home and relax, but he begins to evaluate the possibility of accepting some of the proposals just to get drunk and forget his little mistake.

Of course, for that, he has to go through looking at his mobile phone, which is an impossible task.

He turns the device over on the mattress, having landed on the screen, and lies down next to it. iPhone pointing towards the ceiling, he looks at it from the side, unable to read the notifications that came in or to know if there were any repercussions for his action.

He types in his security code by heart, keeping his face out of the camera, and is thankful to always have it on mute to avoid knowing what happened during all the hours he ignored it. When he accesses his messages, however, everything becomes complicated.

He can't make out names or pictures at the angle he tries to look at the phone, and doing his best to try and open his family's group chat, he ends up getting into one that leaves his heart in his throat again.

"Hey there :)" He reads the harmless text his ex sent him, and has no idea how to react. Having already inadvertently left her on read, he has no choice but to reply, a little excited and nervous.

"Hi :), what's up?" With a smiley face? No smiley face? More formal? Less informal? Resentful? Cheerful? He has no idea how to set the tone of his message, conflicted about how to react after so many months of no contact with her. How should one behave when your beautiful ex texts you again?

His message is instantly read, which means (Y/N) is inside the chat. She sends another calm, casual reply, and the two of them fall into the well-known chatting dance, catching up as if nothing happened.

Obito learns he misses her madly when she sends a picture of her smiling face, always so pretty and perfect, the most beautiful woman in the world to his eyes. Feelings of nostalgia and love intermingle in an emotional mess, tying a knot in his chest he decides to ignore.

After all, he still loves her fiercely.

He responds to the photo with one of his own, having taken about ten minutes to define the angle and try to look as cute as he can. Disheveled after a long day at work, his ex replies with a similar picture, but a little more daring.

She, on the bed, wearing shorts too small and revealing half of her buttocks, only a fragment of her face in the shot. She is clearly shooting where she wants the attention to go, and the Uchiha is not going to object to that. (Y/N's) body is still as ravishingly gorgeous as he remembers, smooth skin he can identify even through the screen, an angel personified on earth.

Not intending to ruin the reunion, mixed feelings between his legs as well, he follows the tone of her photo with a slightly more provocative one. He, in the mirror, shirtless and revealing the V marked at the end of his abdomen by stretching the waistband of his pants down.

The tone quickly rises on both sides, both parties engaged in a back and forth of increasingly explicit photos, and soon, Obito finds himself with a hand inside his pants, touching himself without remorse. According to the videos he now receives, (Y/N) seems to follow him in body and soul, showing as she satisfies herself with a pink toy vibrating on her clit.

She had no possession of such an object before it all ended, and he feels even more aroused at the possibility of her not having been with anyone for months. Of course, there would be nothing wrong with the opposite case, but a toxic part of him is happy about that fact.

(Y/N) moans into her phone with anticipation, and before he can reply with a video of his own, he receives a video call. He doesn't take a second to answer it, being greeted with an "I miss you" between moans and ragged breaths, his ex's legs spread wide open as she touches herself with that toy of hers.

"I need you, (Y/N), I fucking miss you too" he moans in response, ceasing his touch to articulate coherent words and then resuming his self-inflicted caresses. They both share the moment, separated by distance but together in virtuality, fucking each other from afar yet close at the same time.

"You... sho-ould come! Here... I-I mean, come here!" It kills him the effort she makes to communicate what she needs, and he can imagine the familiar look of pleasure she must have plastered on her features, the one he appreciated countless times beneath his own body.

"Now?"

"Fuck yes-s, come, please!" Obito doesn't need a second invitation, quickly cutting off the call and typing an "on my way, don't cum" into their chat as he pulls on a jumpsuit with no need for a t-shirt underneath, sneakers, and runs out of his apartment with his car keys ready in hand.

EXAMPLE OF A SPECIAL AND UNIQUE ADDED SCENARIO

[crystalsnow95z]

so i actually dreamed this other night lol. could u do something with early bts (2013-14) and they’re at the airport for whatever reason, and jk starts feeling really sick but tries to endure/wait it out thinking it’s just nerves. he feels even worse and starts panicking and tells jin he thinks he’s gonna puke. jin just rushes him to a bathroom and jk starts puking really hard and crying. jin just holds him and comforts him cuz he’s never seen jk in such a state. the rest can be up to u :)

Oh gosh.. I usually don't use a certain timeline and ive never actually been on a plane..so this will be a challenge. I hope its accurate 😅

Sorry it took so long. I hope you haven't forgotten about your request 😅

This is our first time performing outside of Korea..I've been studying the Japanese lyrics but I'm still so nervous..my stomach hurts like crazy..

Jungkook leans his head on Taehyung's shoulder, trying to discretely rub his knotting abdomen. "I'm so scared, Taehyung-sii.." He whispers, confiding in the second youngest.

"It's okay Jungkook-ah.. we spent all night going over the lyrics together, and we got the moves down pact. There's nothing to worry about." Taehyung takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Do you want to go over them again?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "I don't want to lose my voice.. my throats already a bit sore.."

"Is Junggukkie okay?" Jin asks when he sees the youngest huddled close to Taehyung.

"Yeah he's okay. He's just nervous about tomorrow." Taehyung answers for him.

"You'll do fine Jungkook-ah. We've been practicing for months. You did it perfectly yesterday." Namjoon reassures him.

"Right.. thanks, Hyung.." Jungkook gives him a smile, but despite not feeling as nervous, his stomach still gurgled uncomfortably. The car came to a stop, Jin opening the door to lead them through the airport, everyone trailing behind.

They weren't big enough to use the private entrance, but they still had fans calling for them. He bowed to every single one of them, but each time he folded over his middle, he only ached more. I have to get used to all these eyes on me..

He grabbed onto the back of Yoongi's backpack holding the small strap tightly in his hand, temporarily blinded by one of the camera flashes he accidentally looked right into.

Yoongi takes his hand, leading him to get his passport checked. "You okay, Jungkook?"

Jungkook nods. "I'm okay. There are too many flashes..That's all." he presented his passport and ticket to the airport staff, trying to focus on the staff in front of him.

"Could you lower your face mask?" The woman asks politely.

Jungkook takes it off one ear, startled by a scream when he does this, several more flashes go trying to get a clear shot of his face. He grabs onto his closest hyung, gripping their shirt sleeve. All the attention was making him feel queasy.

"You okay Jungkook-ah?" Hoseok asks when he feels the younger grab him. He didn't mind it, wrapping his hand around Jungkooks. "You're sweating.. take your passport back, and we'll get settled on the plane."

Jungkook nods, turning to the lady who took it. "Is it okay?"

"Yes, all is well. Here you go. Have a safe flight." She smiles, holding out the passport. Jungkook's hands shook when he grabbed it, quickly putting it back into his carry on.

Jungkook tried to wait quietly for everyone to get their documents checked, but his stomach churned violently,making him feel weak. His knees threatened to buckle underneath him. I can't do this..

Jungkook urgently pulled on the eldest, trying to get his attention. "Hyung.. Jin..I..I don't feel good.. please?" He pulls aggressively on his sleeve, making him lose balance.

"Thank you Sir.."Jin puts his face mask back in place,quickly bowing to the man helping him and taking his passport back and turning to Jungkook. 'What's wrong Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook holds his middle, his stomach giving another painful grumble, the acid trying to rise up. "I'm..I'm gonna be sick.. Hyung I need.." a wet burp stopped his words, clamping his hand over the face mask. "Hyung.." Jungkook whimpers, his doe eyes watering.

"Okay. Dont panic, i got you.."Jin starts pulling Jungkook through the airport, trying to spare him from getting sick in front of all those people.

"Hyung, where are you going?" Namjoon called to him with confusion when Jin doesn't slow down."That's the wrong way Hyung.."

"I need to take care of Kook. You take the others. I'll catch up." Jin quickly calls back, dragging his ailing dongsaeng through the crowd. Jungkook clung to his arm for support, swallowing down the bile that filled his throat. "I know, I know.. we're almost there, honey.." Jin cooed, pushing through the crowd until he finally found the bathroom.

Jungkook was trembling with effort, struggling to get his body to keep moving. He wanted to tell Jin to slow down, the quick pace only making him feel worse, but he knew the moment he opened his mouth to speak, he'd throw up.

As soon as Jin slowed down to check for an empty stall, Jungkook felt the hot sick push its way up, unable to swallow it down. Jungkook felt the warmth fill up the face mask, gagging again at the smell.

"Sh*t..Jungkook-ah.." Jin pulls him into the nearest stall, removing the soiled face mask from his face and discarding it.

Jungkook dropped to his knees in front of the toliet, Jin hardly having time to lift the seat before the next wave hit the younger. He heaved loudly, the contents of his stomach pushing up and spraying the back of the toliet. "I..I'm sorry Hyung.." he sobbed in-between gags, splashing more sick into the toliet.

Jin kneeled next to Jungkook, rubbing his back to try to comfort him. "You're really sick baby, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry for being sick. It's not your fault."

"Seokjinnie-hyung! Jungkook-ah! We need to get on the plane. There's not much time left until take off we need to go." Hoseok called urgently, looking for them, freezing when he heard Jungkook bleaching up more sick.

The flight.. the tour.. I can't be sick right now.. I'll let my hyungs down.. they trusted me to be lead vocals.. I'm letting them down..

Jungkook's stomach rippled with guilt, his breath coming out more ragged as panic set in. He tried to hold the sick down and rise to his feet, but it just erupted out of him anyway, his legs shaking violently. He hardly made a few inches off the cold tile floor before his legs become jello again, unable to support him

"Jungkook-ah it's okay, it's okay. Don't try to get up. Just let it all out.." Jin reassures Jungkook, feeling his spine arching as another round of sickness hits him,holding his bangs back as more undigested rice hits the water.

"Hoeseok-ah go on without us. T-tell the others Jungkook is too sick right now.." Jin tried to keep his voice steady, cursing himself when hears it shaking,stammering over words. He needed to be strong for the younger members.

Hoseok covered his mouth, his stomach churning at the sound of Jungkook. He wouldn't let his weak stomach win, swallowing down the bile that tried rising. I can't get sick now, Hyung needs me to tell the others... "Okay, I'll tell them. Do you need anything?"

"Focus on the flight, please? I'll take care of Jungkook.." Jin sends J-hope away, focusing all his attention to Jungkook. "Don't cry,hey.. it's okay. No one blames you. Please, Junggukkie, you need to calm down. You're only making it worse.."

Jungkook clenched the porcelain bowl tighter, his knuckles turning white. He tried to obey, but every time he tried to take a deep breath, more bile rose in his throat. "It..it..hurts Hyung.."

"I know baby.. I know.." Jin's heart thumped wildly in his chest, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. He had no idea how to calm down the mankae. I've never seen him so sick before.. he's sweating so much, I think he's running a fever.. what do I do? Should I have told Hoba to get help?

Jin tried gently rubbing Jungkook's stomach to try to give him some relief from the pain, feeling his muscles tightening underneath his palm as they pushed up another mouthful of thick bile. Jungkook whimpered, trembling in Jin's arms.

Does it hurt more when I touch him? Jin pulls away, going back to gently scratching up and down Jungkook's back. "It's okay, it's okay.. Hyungie is here, I got you.."

"You..you're g..na m..mi..s..the f..flig..ght.." Jungkook spoke in soft hiccupy sobs, Jin hardly able to understand him."I..i..t..m..f..au..t."

"Jungkook don't worry about that. I chose to stay with you. We'll figure that out when you're better. Right now all I care about is you. You need to breathe, you're gonna pass out.. please.. you need to stop crying..it's not the end of the world." Jin reassures the mankae, keeping his voice calm.

Jungkook nods, his body swaying. Each deep breath made his muscles scream with pain, clenching his teeth with a moan. He takes another deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with air that he desperately needed.

"That's it.. Good, good.. ah..are you gonna be sick again? It's okay.." Jin coos softly, smoothing out Jungkook's hair.

Jungkook shook his head, dry heaving with a whimper. He leans against Jin, trying to get warmth from the older member."I'm..i'm okay.." I..I don't have anything left in my stomach. It hurts. Make it stop.

Jin wraps around Jungkook, trusting him not to get sick on him, gently rubbing his stomach hesitating until he feels Jungkook softly sigh, gently circling his abs with more confidence. "Do you feel a little better now?"

"It hurts to breathe.. my stomach hurts.." Jungkook whimpered, his voice coming out as a raspy whisper. "And..I'm cold.."

"We need to get you out of that wet shirt..here Gukkie, sit up just for a minute okay?" Jin gently helps him sit up. "Arms up honey."

Jungkook lifts up his arms, Jin tugging the shirt over his head and quickly taking off his jacket and gently leading the younger’s arms into the sleeves, zipping it up.

"There..is that better Gukkie?" Jin asks, pushing Jungkook's hair out of his face.

The maknae nods, looking for his phone to check the time, eyes tearing up when he sees they missed the flight. Jin takes it away from him. "Th..the flight.."

"No Gukkie. Don't worry about that." Jin scolds softly, kissing his forehead. "I'll get us there. I promise. Just take it easy.."

Jungkook buries his face in Jin's shoulder. "I'm sorry.." He sniffles, trying to control himself. "I-I'm sorry.."

"Aiigo..it's okay.. I'm not upset. No one's upset with you. We'll just call the company and see what to do. Okay?" Jin hugs him close to him, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jungkook nods, sniffling to try to avoid getting snot all over Jin. "I..I think I'm..I'm okay now.. thanks for staying with me.."

[rockinlibrarian]

Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part 3: Viktory!...ish (spoilers under cut)

If you're just joining me, Part 1 was a reaction to FANDOM'S reaction; Part 2 was a snippet of fix-it that poured out of me yesterday. Now to get into the nitty-gritty.

Let's start off the show-specific commentary with something, to counteract the online vitriol, I have the most genuinely positive feelings about (though also a few definite opinions on how it could have been improved): VIKTOR. VIKTOR MY BABY whom I have written 35,584 words from the point of view of (and almost as many ABOUT him from other povs) since last we saw him. I think I've mentioned in tags or something the weird possessive feeling I got just seeing him in trailer footage-- the same thing happened when season 3 of Legion came out and I saw the Loudermilks again. There's something about spending a lot of time in a character's head that makes me weirdly emotional about them after that.

Five is my favorite character from an objective what-an-absurdly-interesting-character standpoint, but Viktor has always been the character I've connected to most emotionally. I, too, have spent my life convinced I'm Nobody but desperately longing to be SOMEBODY. And he had the tragic arc I've been morbidly obsessed with since Lester Nygaard-- the doormat who finally stands up for themselves but it all keeps going horribly wrong.

He finally speaks up, tells his story to the world-- and it only further alienates him from his already-troubled family, and the one guy he most hoped WOULD read it immediately shelved it and never touched it again. (At least, in a possible future, it became an anchor and lifeline for Five. But I'm not sure Viktor ever canonically found out about that. All Five told him was that it was "ballsy," which is better than anything anyone else ever told him about it, but not about how he carried it everywhere he went for 40-some years and used it to keep all his most important home-going equations)

He finally gains the power he always longed for, but instinctively lashes out violently with it at every reveal of betrayal from people he trusted (and only one of those people probably deserved it).

He finally gets first chair, is the most extraordinary violinist the world has ever seen, and then-- well-- he blows up the moon.

Again and again, he ends up triggering apocalypses every time he steps out, takes a stand. He saves a little kid's life, and THAT action ends up eating up the entire universe.

He can't catch a break. All he wanted was to be a hero like his siblings, and it KEEPS. GOING. WRONG.

I am OBSESSED with this. I'm obsessed with this kid who cried when his brothers stepped on ants unwittingly destroying all life as we know it over and over again. I need him to break this cycle, I need him to prove that he CAN be powerful AND have good results, I need to see it as a fellow struggling-to-get-out-of-her-self-esteem-pit doormat who only wants to do GOOD, and I ache for him when he doesn't. But in a good way. Because it's fiction and I savor the angst.

Which brings us up to Season Four, under the cut.

So, six years have passed since Viktor got off mood suppressants, tasted power, came out as trans, and got asked by the brother who used to completely ignore him and once locked him in a sound-proof cell to serve as Best Man at his wedding. He's been living a completely new life! We saw in the trailers that he's a bartender, but then you get his location establishing shot and it turns out it's HIS BAR. HIS NAME IS OVER THE DOOR.

Reader, I reacted vocally, out loud, to this reveal. HE built and runs this genuinely nice bar all by himself! Look how WELL he is doing for himself! Okay, he can't maintain a relationship for the life of him (but that's okay, it's just he hasn't realized that Five is his Soulmate SORRY I WILL PROBABLY DO IT AGAIN) (also, I'm very tickled that his last girlfriend was named Amy. I'm flattered, really), but otherwise he has built a darn nice life for himself. (It gives me the same bittersweet feeling as this one Fiktor fic--there's your warning, don't like don't read-- by @sissytobitch10seconds, "Completely Alone," in which Viktor runs off to become a farmer without telling anyone. Sure, he's isolated himself from the family he once longed to feel a part of, and that's a little sad, but he's working well and quietly, and living fully and in peace, and I love that for him!)

And from here on out, you can just see how far he's come-- the confidence in the way he talks to the siblings he used to be in awe of! The way he doesn't hesitate to share his ideas-- and the way the others actually listen to his ideas now!

And then the majority of the season for him becomes coolly (and...sometimes not so coolly-- but much more in CONTROL than he was six years ago) standing up to the father who belittled, sedated, and gaslit him (or, a variation of said father, at least), and being respected back.

It was just so SATISFYING.

One little victory-- um, viktory?-- that stood out for me was when he had the idea to infiltrate a militia of cultists by Sharpie-ing an umbrella tattoo on his wrist. The symbolism of this action that had once been a sort of pathetic and misguided attempt at fitting in, he was now reclaiming it for purposes of pretending to fit in, a more important goal forefront in his mind-- it was a little thing but it touched my heart, how he was like, "Oh *I* know what to do! I used to do this all the time!" but this time it actually helped him be a hero.

And then the biggest full-circle moment: he insisted on trying to talk Ben down, to bring him back from the edge of blowing and destroying the world-- just like Ben had done for him at the end of season 2.

If only it had worked.

Anyway, I now direct you to the Venn diagram I reblogged the other day: I liked Viktor's arc: it made me really happy, in fact. It GENERALLY made in-universe sense. It could do with some major improvements as a piece of narrative storytelling, though, and that comes back to the overarching theme of Viktor I discussed before we got to the season 4 stuff.

In the first three seasons, the concept that he WAS the apocalypse was always hanging over his arc, even as he gained control of his powers and emotions and gained confidence in his place in the family. I would not have been happy if he really WAS cursed to always bring about destruction, but I want to see him explicitly break this curse, onscreen. But a lot of his personal growth happened off screen, between seasons-- which is generally a good thing, I'm so happy he's been doing so well-- but I feel like we should have at least acknowledged that the Curse of Being the Apocalypse was still hanging over his head as the season began, and THEN SHOWN him deliberately turning that around, AND THEN HE SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED.

Him trying to reach Ben was a start. It was symbolic and circular. But it ultimately didn't work, so bleh. Someone on the Elliott's House Discord suggested that what SHOULD have happened was that Viktor succeeded in removing all the Marigold in the world--from Ben, from his other siblings, from everywhere-- and taking it into himself (an action his long-desired powers had been shown to be capable of) , and then sacrificed himself into the Cleanse to save everyone else. BINGO, full-circle, the Apocalypse becomes the cure, the wannabe superhero becomes the ultimate hero. It's a bummer to have a hero die, but compared to what actually happened in show, this would have been one glorious, well-built-toward death, as opposed to a lot of completely hopeless, emotionally ill-timed deaths.

That would have been narratively a lot more satisfying. I would have accepted the death of my blorbo--sadly, but with acceptance-- if it had been so perfectly heroic in this way.

But I'll discuss the way the show actually ended-- which was, for me, the only serious bummer letdown of the season-- in a separate post.

Two more things about Viktor in season 4, before I go, though:

I appreciated that they at least acknowledged his violin-playing. I could not believe that a professional musician would utterly and completely turn his back on music, and they basically let it drop entirely in seasons 2 and 3. It wasn't just a plot device, it was his vocation, dangit! So when Abigail mentions it to him, and he says it's "really more of a love/hate thing," that makes it all make a little more SENSE. Yeah, sure, he's got QUITE a bit of trauma tied up in the violin now, I guess I'll accept that as an excuse for not getting back into it. I would have made a different choice for him, but at least you gave me a REASON, show, so thanks for that.

Secondly, look, I'm not so naive and deluded to believe that my warped, pseudo-incestuous ship would ever be canon, but Viktor and Five barely said a WORD to each other all season, and I wanted just ONE good one-on-one interaction between them, like we've had every other season-- just ONE MOMENT of the childhood besties/apocalyptic foils-for-each-other being more than distant random family passing like ships in the night. They SHOULD have stuck together at the end of Season 3, to be completely honest-- I did slip in a meaningful explanation for why they didn't in that fix-it scene yesterday-- but I'd settle for just...anything at all!...when they reunited. Ah well.

I was honestly just so happy that Viktor had grown so much, that I'm willing to accept a LOT of things-I'd-rather-have-happened not happening.

And that's where I'll leave this post. I'll make a few more-- at least one whole post about the end (going from my favorite part of the season to my LEAST favorite part of the season-- but I have a lot to say about it that is not just emotional ranting!), one post about the infamous love triangle (which I am not opposed to despite it going against my own ships, and I'll have lots to say about that, too), and at least one post of miscellaneous observations, if any of those topics don't jump out at me and demand I give them their own post as well.

[s-creations]

Snapshot #2 (Yellow, Purple, Red, Green Short Stories Series)

Small moments collected together to share more of their story.

(Short stories involving all the characters that are just here to add more to the series.)

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Waluigi & Wario (Nintendo) Warnings/Additional Tags: Short stories involving more day to day lives, trying not to make anything to serious, if you have ideas you can message me!

((Author's Note:

First Off: THE BIGGEST HEADACHE OF MY CAREER HAS ENDED FOR THIS YEAR! I'm officially on a break and I'm going to enjoy myself! I can't even begin to tell you how much this past work year has been so draining.

Second: There are a few prompts for this chapter that were given to me by some wonderful fans…and I don't remember who they are. So! If you recognize a prompt from below and you know you sent that into me, message me on here or on my Tumblr! I'll update as I get names.

Third: Beyond this chapter, there are two more long one shots before the end of the 2nd Season. After that, I'm giving myself some time to work on Season 3 and (hopefully) be better prepared to post more regularly for that new season. But we'll see how it goes.

Fourth: This chapter was supposed to be up yesterday. But work got in the way. Sorry.

Anyway, enjoy!))

1. E. Gadd

Mario faltered when, upon opening the front door, found a large, heavy looking box before him. Just barely able to make out Wario’s feet sticking out from the other side. 

“Um, good morning?” Mario called out.

“Are you going to move or do I need to just hand this over.”

“Oh, ah, right, sorry.”

The hero shuffled to the side, allowing Wario to rather uncomfortably waddle his way in. Both wincing at how heavy said item sounded as it was dropped onto the floor. 

“What in Grambi’s name did you buy?” Wario panted out as he wiped his brow. 

“Nothing! Where did you even find it?”

“On your front step.”

“Well…does it have a name on it?”

There were a few moments spent on searching the box over. Wario letting out a cry of triumph. “Got it! It’s for…Luigi. With your name kind of scribbled on here kind of last minute feel. You know? Like, you were an extreme afterthought.”

“Sure. Does it say who it’s from?”

“Nope, nothing that I’m seeing.” 

Mario frowned in confusion. “We weren’t expecting anything…” 

They both looked up upon hearing footsteps on the stairs. Finding Luigi walking down with his own look of confusion on his face, eyes focused on the box. 

“What did we get?”

 “Don’t know. But it’s technically for you.” Wario answered.

“Me?”

“Well, Mario’s name is on here too. But I think it’s mainly for you.”

Making his way further down, Luigi looked the box over before opening it slowly. Just in case there was something dangerous waiting inside. But removing the lid revealed it to be nothing more than a large and very strange looking screen. One that had numerous wires and tubes of multiple strange looking liquids contained inside. All connected together in a rather convoluted set up that made all present absolutely confused. 

“Why does it smell like oil and…coffee beans?” Wario cautiously commented as he sniffed the air.

“Can we get it out of there?” Luigi asked. 

“Yeah, hold on. Let me take care of this.”

Mario and Luigi moved back slightly as Wario reached into the box. Both watched on as the contraption was shifted over to the kitchen table. A quiet sigh of relief sounded as the table took the weight of it all easily. 

As Wario caught his breath once more, Mario plucked off a folded piece of paper that had been taped to the bottom of the screen. Opening it to read, “Dear brothers (specifically Luigi).”

Wario let out a weak chuckle at that.

Ignoring the sound, Mario continued on, “Considering what you’ve experienced, I figured it would be best to stay connected. And, as letters would take far too long to spread information, I’ve taken it upon myself to build this wonderful contraption! When you’re able to, hit the large red button on the side.”

All three nervously eyed said button.

“I-Is it signed?” Luigi asked.

“No, and that’s all we have for instructions.”

“Don’t suppose your Bean boyfriend made this?” Wario suggested.

“No,” Luigi shook his head, “we exchange letters only.”

All so wound up, the three jumped when Polterpup happily phased through the ceiling. Practically dancing around the contraption in joy. Looking back towards Luigi expectedly after a few moments.

“W-Well, Polterpup s-seems to think it’s o-okay.”

“They’re also a ghost,” Wario frowned, “I don’t think explosions will harm them like it’ll harm us if this thing explodes.”

“Still…” Cautiously, Luigi reached past the spectral pup to push said button.

The contraption let out the most horrendous noise. All living beings scrambling away, even back into the living room, hands over their ears while Polterpup remained sitting on the chair. As the noise grew and the ground even began to shake, Wario collected the twins close to shield them with his body as best he could. 

It was unclear how long they waited. But as the horrible sound reached its peak, there was a small ‘ding!’ and it fell quiet once more.

They didn’t move.

Polterpup began to bark happily.

It was still tensely quiet. 

“Wait, wait, wait- ah! Stupid tubes… Polterpup! Wonderful to see you again!”

“Wait a minute.” Wario grumbled. 

“Is that…” Mario raised a brow.

Luigi wiggled out of Wario’s hold to run back into the kitchen. On the screen was Professor Elvin Gadd. Strange glasses turned away from the eager Polterpup to Luigi, who was standing in the doorway with a smile on his face.

“Professor!” Luigi beamed as he claimed the seat in front of the screen once Polterpup moved.

“Luigi, my boy! Wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m…I’m good. Did you make this?”

“Yes! One of my better inventions. A one way visual communicator so that we can check in better. I call it the ‘Social Networking Ecto-System.”

“Could you put your name on your invention next time.” Wario said as he and Mario walked in.

“I did! My logo is on the front. Right on top of the screen.”

All eyes went up to where E. Gadd was pointing. Sure enough, embossed on the screen frame, was a very abstract image of the professor. Only recognizable by the wide swirling glasses and the swirl of hair. 

“I said ‘name’, not logo. How were we supposed to know that was you? It barely looks like you!” Wario argued back.

“But I did put my brand on it.”

As Wario groaned, Mario pulled another chair over to sit in front of the screen as well. “Uh, hey professor. We weren’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Especially like this. Is everything okay?”

“Fine! Everything is fine. I just realized that I had no easy way to contact you all. And with that whole Boo situation, a quick way to connect would be best for all parties.”

“So you made some sort of combination of garbage?” Wario asked. Shooting Mario a challenging glare when the hero turned to stare him down. 

“Well, one works with what one has. Innovation is the mother of necessity and what not.”

“Maybe we should tell everyone about cell phones.” Luigi whispered to Mario, who nodded.

“Either way, I would suggest setting this up somewhere that won’t disrupt your normal state of being.”

“I’m…sure we’ll figure something out.” Luigi replied while peering around the area he could see from his seat.

“Hey, professor, could we ask you something?” Mario quickly voiced. 

“Of course!”

“You’re…human, correct?”

Gadd still before letting out a hearty laugh. “Yes, yes I am! Apology for the delay there, I really had to think about it for a moment. You spend enough years here you tend to forget what you are.”

“And spend that entire time alone.” Wario stated in a low tone.

“So, you came from Earth as well.” said Mario after casually hitting the larger brother in the stomach.

“Indeed I did.”

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“Oh, it probably wasn’t much different from your experience. I was a younger ghost hunter. Trying my hand at unique, untouched potential. A few years into my work I found a building in a rather interesting place.”

“Interesting how?” Luigi asked. 

“Well, first off, it was deep underground. I found an altar of some kind with that familiar green pipe in the center of it all. I’d never seen a set up as such before. With how thick the surrounding walls were, it was pretty clear the area was supposed to be sealed away forever.”

The twins shared a look, but didn’t interrupt. 

“My equipment pulled me towards said pipe. There was a huge surge of energy coming from it. In hindsight, I should have been a bit more careful.” 

“You fell in.” Mario started weakly.

“Fell, pushed, pulled, overall it doesn’t matter. All I truly remember was standing in the ruins for one moment and the next second I was this world. And I’ve been here ever since.”

“Has anyone else known that you’re here?” Wario asked. 

“Oh, plenty of people! While I may enjoy my solitude and working with ghosts, I do need to interact with others. This is just the only time people of significance were aware of me. Met a few big personalities in my time. Oh the adventures I’ve had.”

It fell quiet as E. Gadd happily reminisced on his past outings. The other three thinking over what they’d just been told. 

“Well, anyway, I’ve eaten up enough of your time!” E. Gadd said with a smile, “Make sure you put this up somewhere you can easily get to it but it’s out of the way. Hopefully I can meet that other brother, seem to be missing him constantly. Call me if you need anything!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Don’t do anything crazy out there.”

The screen went blank and the three remained still for a few moments.

Wario eventually clapped his hands, “Welp, you two have fun figuring out where to put that monstrosity.”

“You aren’t going to help?”

“Sorry, Mini-Me. This is a you two issue.”

“Wario-”

“Have fun!”

“Wait, why did you even come over! Why are you here!?”

+_+_+_+_+_+

2. Sick Day

“Just let me die.” Waluigi grumbled out, staring up at the ceiling without actually looking at it. His face was flushed, hair matted to his head from sweat. He barely flinched as a hand half-heartedly landed on his shoulder. 

“Shut up,” Wario said, voice cracking, “It’s not that bad.”

The eldest brother sounded horrible, broken and sore. The normal deep bags under his eyes now a darker color. Said eyes unfocused as he stared at basically nothing. 

Waluigi gave a weak growl, “Get your hand offa me…”

“No…”

“You’re making me hot…”

“Deal with it.”

“You absolute-” Waluigi flinched when Wario’s hand now landed on his face.

“Don’t curse.”

“You-”

“Don’t do it.”

Letting out a small sigh, Peach placed the tray down to step between the brothers. “Enough you two. At least you have energy to fight each other.”

All she received in return were muted and stuffed moans. Both retreat back to their bed, hiding under the thick blanket covering them. With them now just glaring at different parts of the medical wing. Again, not fully taking in what they were looking at. 

At least they were going to be quiet for a while.

Picking the tray back up, Peach made her way to the last occupied bed. Mario was snoring softly, cheeks a deep red, his limbs sprawled out and hanging off the bed. The blanket was bunched up at the foot.

Pulling up a chair, Peach placed the tray on the bedside table. She focused on the small pile of half-frozen cloths stacked there. Picking one up and placing it on Mario’s heated skin. Almost instantly, the ice melted away and chilled water poured out. Mario let out a small whine as his eyes slowly opened.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Peach whispered gently as she placed another cloth on his chest. 

“It’s fine…” Mario muttered weakly, eyes trying to focus on the princess. 

“Have you been sleeping okay?”

“...Yeah?”

Peach laughed softly, “You sure about that?”

“I mean… I think I’ve been sleeping…”

“I’ll see if we have anything that could help you.”

Weakly shaking his head, Mario replied back with, “It all just burns up…”

“Oh dear, well, we’ll still try and figure something out. How about we schedule another ice bath for you?” Peach smiled softly, gently replacing the towels with one of the frozen ones. 

“...How’s Luigi?”

“He’s fine. A little worried about all of you. But he’s fine.”

“...You’d tell me if he wasn’t, right?”

“Of course I would. I’d never lie about something like that. But I need you to relax, okay? You’re all in safe hands.” 

That seemed to ease whatever worry that was gripping Mario. His shoulders relaxed as he sank back into the bed. Aware that was all she would be gettin out of the ill hero, Peach replaced the towels one final time in silence. This time, the ice didn’t melt away instantly. A sign Peach took that the fever had been calmed for the time being.

After passing a few requests to the medical Toads, Peach departed from the room. She was not surprised to find Luigi sitting on the bench outside. 

The princess was struck with an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu at the scene. 

“Hello, Luigi.” Peach said softly as to not startle the other. 

The younger twin looked up upon hearing his name. Place the green cap back onto his head as he stands. “H-How are they?”

“Just fine. Wario and Waluigi even had a strange little fight.”

“That’s good…”

Moving slowly to allow the other a chance to pull away, Peach hooked her arm around one of Luigi’s. Offering a warm smile to the other. “I’m feeling a little peckish. Would you care to join me for lunch? We’ll check on everyone afterwards. What do you say?”

“Oh, s-sure, that sounds wonderful,” Luigi smiled back, “Thank you.”

“Of course, you know I enjoy your company.”

Still arm in arm, they made their way towards the dining hall. Peach happily listens to Luigi’s latest additions to the brother’s house. 

+_+_+_+_+_+

3. Puppy Eyes

Waluigi frowned as he allowed Luigi’s words to settle into his brain. Even then, he couldn’t really seem to gasp what had been asked of him.

Maneuvering out of his rather strange position around his latest contraption, Waluigi casted a pointed look at Luigi. Who was looking back hopeful.

“I’m sorry… You want me to what?” 

“Teach me what you know about machines…and what not. I know a little. I mean, enough to impress E. Gadd. And I’ve tried to lean on my own. But I learn better, especially something like this, when I can work with my hands.” As if to emphasize his point, Luigi flapped said appendages. 

“Okay…and?”

“Well, you’re the only one I know who works with machines all day.”

“Not all day.”

“Either way, I figured I could ask you to teach me all you know?”

Waluigi let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m not just dinking around in here. It’s not repairing someones’ toaster kind of thing. These are heavy pieces of machinery and my creations that I’m working with. Even Wario doesn’t get the pleasure of working on these beauties…usually.”

“The point is, I can’t work on my own stuff while teaching and worrying about keeping you safe. Learn how I did. Take small things apart, put them back together, and pray that they work again.”

The smug smirk he’d planned on sending Luigi’s way instantly fell through. Because Waluigi was not prepared to be met with wide eyes staring back at him. A weird feeling falling over the taller of the two as the air changed to one of…pity?

“What…are you doing?”

The pressure seemed to grow heavier as Luigi stepped forward. Was Waluigi feeling…bad for saying ‘no’? 

“Stop it. I told you I wouldn’t and that’s not going to change.”

Panic grew as the younger tilted his head ever so slightly because it felt as if Waluigi was losing. Losing what? What was he losing? Why did he feel bad? What was happening!?

“I don’t know what this is, but I don’t like it! Would you just stop! What are you doing!?”

Grambi above, were Luigi’s eyes sparkling!?

“Fuck, fine, alright! Just- stop it! I’ll show you! Just stop! Stop with whatever this is!”

Immediately, the moment those words were said, Luigi’s face dropped. Returning to the regular smile that Waluigi was used to. Which just threw the other into a giant loop of confusion.

“Thank you,” Luigi beamed, “Shall we get started?”

“Not until you explain to me what the hell that was all about!”

“What do you mean?”

“That…That weird look you were giving me!”

“Are you feeling okay Waluigi?”

“I- What- You- Just-” Waluigi let out a sharp huff to center himself before continuing again. “What was with the face.”

“What face?”

“You-” Another huff, “Big eyes, head tilted, the heavy air of pleading want that crawled into my soul and made me feel horrible…”

Luigi gave nothing away. Merely looking concerned as he slowly reached out to pick up a wrench. “So…are we going to-”

Waluigi yanked the wrench out of the younger’s hand and pointed it at him. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll worm it out of you soon enough.”

“I just wanted to know what you know.”

“...Stand over there and don’t touch anything.”

As the hours passed, Luigi eventually made it over to stand next to Waluigi. To being able to ask questions. To being able to work with the tools and equipment under Waluigi's supervision. 

He will never admit it…but Waluigi did enjoy his time. It was fun to share what he knew with someone else.

_____________________________

The hero’s front door opened with Luigi peering out. Beaming when he realizes it was Wario standing on the other side. 

“Hey Wario! What can I help you with?”

“I’m actually here to see Mario.”

“He’s at the castle right now. But you can wait here until he gets back if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely! You actually have good timing. I was about to play some games.”

“Games…by yourself?” Wario looked at Luigi with a look of confusion as he walked in.

“Yeah! Come on, I’ll show you.”

Entering the living room, Wario found a strange contraption hooked up to the television. The screen showing some rather pixelated racing cars moving across it. 

“What is this?” Wario asked as Luigi plopped down onto the ground in front of the couch. 

“Video games.”

“What kind of games? Not board games?”

“Nope, video games! They're really fun. You can either play by yourself or…with a friend?” Luigi held up a second controller out towards the other with a small smile.

Wario frowned softly, looking a little wary. “Where did you even find this?”

“E. Gadd found it on one of his exploits. The shop owner said they’d found it in a trash heap and the professor was able to fix it. It’s from Earth, if that makes you feel better.”

“Your Earth?”

“I…would think so. E. Gadd is looking into it, saying if it’s more than the Green Pipe can transfer things over here. Anyway, he shipped it over as soon as he could. So…do you wanna play?”

“Mmm…I don’t know.”

“Please? I’m really bored playing by myself.”

“Well… You’ve been playing longer than I have and-”

Wario tensed when looking back to Luigi. To find wide eyes staring back at him. An uncomfortable feeling settling into his stomach. As if he’d done something so wrong. Even though he hadn’t even straight said no!

“I mean, I’m sure Mario would…be…”

Luigi slouched down, somehow making himself seem so small. That wrong feeling grew stronger as Wario was practically stared down with shining eyes. 

“Okay, maybe one game?” The older brother quickly said. Unable to hold back the sigh of relief when Luigi’s face, rather quickly, dropped to his normal smile.

“You’ll have fun, promise!” said Luigi, holding the controller back up. 

“Is…your face… What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You! Your eyes got really big and shiny and I felt terrible and…am I going insane?”

“Maybe it was your guilt of not spending time with me.”

Wario gave Luigi a look of shock as the younger just smirked back. It was the only note that showed Luigi knew what he’d done. Before Wairo could question further, Luigi shook the controller with a raised brow. To which Wario huffed and grabbed it. Plopping down next to Luigi and focusing on the screen. 

“Only one game.”

“If you say so.”

They played until Mario arrived back home a few hours later. Who found Wario huddled on the ground in defeat with Luigi beaming as the screen showed his player holding the #1 trophy. 

“...Luigi never loses games.” Mario stated calmly as he headed for the kitchen.

“Well I know that now!” Wario sharply shot back.

_____________________________

“No.”

“But Mario-”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s not that expensive.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s a treat.”

“And you’ve already had enough sugar for the day! I’m not getting you more.”

“This is better than any tennis match.” Wario whispered to Waluigi as they watched with fascination as the twin’s argued. 

Waluigi chuckled before replying with, “It’s nice to see them squabble like brothers, to be honest.”

Their attention was promptly pulled back to the twins as Luigi let out a dramatic groan. Interest going further when said twin pulled out the unfortunately familiar face. Wide eyes and tilted head that had broken them down so easily before. The pair watched inraptured as they waited for Mario’s response. Surely he wouldn’t last that long. Mario practically gave everything to his little brother already, so this would end so much faster. 

To their surprise, Mario landed a direct poke to Luigi’s forehead. The younger almost falling out of his chair in response. Quickly balancing himself before he actually did, going back to glare at Mario once more. Who had just gone back to his drink.

Luigi let out a huff of annoyance before he walked away into the crowd.

“So dramatic.” Mario mumbled with a small smile. His calm demeanor was broken when Wario and Waluigi leaned over the table. Both looking a little frantic as they stared the older twin down. “What-”

“How did you do that?” Wario hissed out.

“Do what!? Jeez, back up a little bit, will you?”

“How did you resist that stupid face?” Waluigi asked this time.

“Stupid face- You mean the ‘Puppy Dog Eyes’? What are you two- Oooh…” Mario’s confusion turned to a wide, knowing smirk. Easily leaning back into his chair while the other two tensely watched him. “You two were hit by it?”

“Don’t act superior” Wario frowned, “What did you do to avoid being unaffected by it?” 

Mario slowly sipped his drink, prolonging the quiet suffering before he answered with, “Luigi’s my brother. I’ve lived with him for 26 years. You don’t think I haven’t built up an immunity to it? It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Waluigi leaned forward, uncaring as he pushed Wario’s cap over his eyes. “How do we do that? How do we get to the point of being able to ignore it?”

The smirk grew on Mario’s face.

“You don’t. Enjoy your suffering.”

+_+_+_+_+_+

4. Love Letters

The front door was forcefully kicked open. Followed by Wario calling out an eager, “Food time!”

“I swear if you break our door again!” Mario called out from the kitchen. Unable to pull away from the sink as he was pouring the pasta water out.

“I’ll just get you a new one. You worry too much.” Was the more than casual reply as Wario claimed a seat by the kitchen table. Only to let out a pained gruff of noise when Waluigi smacked the back of his head.

“Stop being an idiot,” Waluigi sniped out before asking Mario, “Where’s the sprout?”

“Upstairs, can you get him?” Mario requested as he poured the now water free pasta with homemade red sauce. 

“Yeah,” Wario unhelpfully added, “go make yourself useful.”

He let out a yelp as his chair was rather easily pushed over. Wario crashed to the ground as Waluigi made his way over to the stairs. Ignoring the out cries from both brothers remaining in the kitchen as he walked up. Heading for the room at the end of the hallway. The door was already open, Waluigi fully planning on casually strolling his way in with a loud call of Luigi’s name.

Only to pause when he entered the door frame. 

Luigi was sitting at his desk, which was half hidden by tools and pieces of numerous projects. But he wasn’t paying attention to those. Instead, blue eyes were slowly scrolling over the words on the paper he was holding. A small smile on his face with a dust of blush on his cheeks. Clearly caught in his own little world.

Stepping back around the door and leaning against the hallway wall, Waluigi gently knocked on the door frame. There was a familiar squeak of surprise followed by something being slammed and another heavy object landing on the floor.

“You okay up there?” Mario called out.

“Luigi’s just freaking out, we’re okay.” Waluigi shouted back and covered up Luigi’s quiet ‘Yeah!’ reply. The tallest brother casually strolled back in to find Luigi leaning over a small wooden box. The flushed now a deeper red from embarrassment. Part of his project laying on the floor now. 

“I’m here to bring you down for dinner.”

“Um, thanks.” Luigi whispered back. Slowly moving to sit up with the box now pressed to his chest. 

“Am I allowed to be an inquiring br- …and ask what that is?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Doubtful.”

Letting out a slightly annoyed huff, Luigi placed the box back down onto the table. Opening it to reveal it was filled with letters. All curled at the top and bottom. The ‘outside’ edges holding the torn seal of the Royal BeanBean Kingdom. Waluigi ignored the main writing and he instead flickered down to the bottom to find a very cursive signature of ‘Peasley’.

“That…is a lot of letters. You two have only been together for about, what, a month?”

“Close, we’re a few days away.”

Waluigi stalked further into the room to sit at the edge of the bed. “Still, this is so…charming.”

“You can say cute.”

“Thank Grambi, because this absolutely is cute. Adorable even,” Waluigi smiled hearing the other laugh, “So…weird question. You don’t have to answer but…you and Mario kind of suggested that you haven’t been successful in relationship endeavors in the past.”

Luigi didn’t reply right away. Instead reaching into the box to grab the top most letter. Running his thumbs over the crisp parchment. 

“I mean, that’s not an incorrect statement,” he stared slowly, “Even with how…different this place is, it’s far more accepting. I can show interest in anything and no one cares. That’s not how it’s like on Earth. There are a lot of questions and comments that are given, even more so when it’s not asked for. Since I wasn’t one who was the ‘normal’ or ‘typical’ male, there were labels on me. A lot of labels.” 

“I’ll be honest, and I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’m a bit naive. Worse so when I was younger. I was the dating joke for a lot of people. I mean, I was a joke in general. But it became a ‘game’ to who could drag me along the longest. It’s…hard to trust people. Mario had to rescue me off the side of the road too many times. Now, I have a connection with a charming guy? A guy who’s a prince? Peasley is sweet and king and he’s so genuine. Everything he does so far is so…perfect. And it’s hard to believe he really likes me sometimes.”

“I’m just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath my feet again. Then, I feel bad for assuming that Peasley would do anything like this.”

Waluigi sighed softly, reaching out to gently grip Luigi’s shoulder. “How do you feel about him?”

Luigi answered almost immediately, “I like him, I really do…”

“Then you do what you feel comfortable with. And, for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Peasley likes you. I’m not going to say it’s all going to be roses. You know better than anyone here how hurtful it can be when you’re lied to. But you shouldn’t focus on the possible future. Just focus on the now and enjoy it.”

“Yeah, okay… Thanks Waluigi.” Luigi smiled back.

“Whatever. Just know that if Peasley does have the actual audacity to hurt you, you have a whole ass kingdom behind you. With someone who’s knowledgeable with hiding things.” Waluigi’s face was impassive as Luigi stared him down.

“...You scare me sometimes.”

“That sounds like a you issue. Come on, let’s go eat.”

[themadknightuniverse]

Nacho Varga's outfit analysis and symbolism

Okay uh I just saw a gif set of the scene where Nacho gets rescued by the twins, and I had a revelation but I have no idea if this has been pointed out before. I gave myself like 1 hour of research through tags to see if it was and I didn't find anything. But if it has been, sorry! Anyway here is another very long post about BCS because I have no self control anymore.

! TW blood and heavy spoilers !

So the thing is after all that time spent looking for Nacho and Lalo's outfits yesterday combined to the gif set, I just got hit by the fact that in the scene he's shot and found by the cousins, Nacho is wearing the same kind of shirt as in the very first time we see him.

I even thought at first it was the same shirt, but they are different. And it's a very interesting choice to make considering the scene. It would have been awesome if it was the exact same shirt. Why? Because Nacho gets badly hurt in this scene, right after being caught up by all his choices. He takes a bullet in the shoulder and in the side, which can be compared to many christian representations. @seraphtrevs already did a splendid analysis of Nacho being a Christlike figure, so I wont be too long on that parallel, you can check out her post about it here . So here Nacho is left to die in the desert, covered in blood, and between all the blood and the shirt pattern itself he looks like he's been torn apart by hell hounds and he just came back from the Purgatory. He's caught up by his actions, his choices, he's suffering for it.

It even goes further than just him being badly hurt in this outfit tho. The shirt even gets shredded by the hands of the cousins, the previous version of himself symbolically destroyed by the hands of a Salamanca. And when Leonel removes it with the help of the vet, it even looks hard to get rid of it, like the second skin of a snake if I push the comparison to an extreme.

And of course we have Marco giving him the Salamanca blood afterward, which is still an insane thing in terms of symbolism, I can't believe it happened. It's just plain "you've been torn apart, stripped of a part of you, and now we fill the emptiness of it with a part of us". Wild.

But still, why is it so interesting that Nacho has the same kind of outfit? Because this exact scene happens when his traitorous side is revealed to one of the character that has a lot of power, Fring, and he's now to serve as a double agent. And so, putting him in a look alike outfit from the first apparence tells us that the Nacho we knew before has been killed. There is no way back. There is no healing from this. It's a permanent change. A permanent consequence to his actions. And after all this, Nacho's desire for power and money starts to disappear (and he's been going down this road for a while once his dad is threatened, but this whole situation seals it I believe). So Nacho doesn't wear the exact same shirt. It would have been great for the blatant symbolism of it all, BUT the fact that it's slightly different gives us the opportunity to actually see something more. We have 3 scenes with Nacho that happens in the desert and that kind of echoes each other with their similarities (multiple people gathered, all there to solve a problem, and there is at least one Salamanca in each one). And if we take a look at his outfits in the 3 scenes, that's where it becomes even more interesting than just the first comparison. So let's take a look at the 3 outfits during those 3 key scenes.

We have the first scene we meet Nacho. The pattern is blotchy, black and white (or maybe blue/green/grey something like that, it depends of the light). It's messy, a bit wild looking. It fits Nacho's personality at the beginning of the series. He's got more wit to him, he makes reckless decisions/have reckless ideas (Selling his own stuff on a cartel territory with the pills, terrible planning of a robbery, plotting Tuco's death, hiding his illegal activities to his dad, planning Hector's death, etc) Also black and white suits his personality and his double agent role pretty well. Nacho is stubborn, he has a strong personality. The heavy contrast of black and white fits the way he's capable to strike with his words as well as his fists. He's a sharp thing. He's also in a grey place when it comes to morals, like most of the characters in the show.

Then we have the scene where he's shot and found by the cousins. Like we said we still have a shirt that have some similarities with the first one. It's still a heavy black and white pattern, blotchy, it's irregular BUT there is more structure to it already. We can discern horizontal and vertical lines creating something like a grid pattern. Compared to the first shirt we could assume it represent his change of direction in life. At this moment he got scared of Hector killing his dad, so he acted to get rid of this menace. Nacho isn't looking for more money and power. He's trying to survive and keep his dad safe. He can't be as reckless as before, he has to think things through. So, more planification for survival, more restrain, more care into what he does.

But then, we get to his last scene. The pattern isn't blotchy at all anymore. Still black and white. We have the horizontal and vertical lines still present from the precedent shirt, and of course they look like crosses. But there is still a bit of wildness/irregularity to this pattern, with the way the lines doesn't all connect, it isn't just crosses all over it. Nacho has drastically changed. He's still himself deep down, but there is all the things that changed in him too. At this point he went through everything, and finds himself in a dead-end. He's been obeying orders but also staying alert to not fall into another manipulation, he's more sharp than ever in his perception, still playing his last cards thoughtfully. He's been stripped of so much, all his hopes for a new life, no more desire for power and money at all, he's even sick of all this cartel thing. There is almost no more wildness to him, he was forced to become more calculating and cold in order to survive and protect. And his last moments are spent to surviving long enough to make sure his dad will be safe, to punish the Salamanca once more by revealing what he did to Hector (and there we can see his wild side exploding, it's raw but controlled), and keeping the choice to take his own life instead of letting others have that power over him.

To me, these 3 shirts, using them for desert scenes, it just screams morphing patterns, and so his mind morphing too.

[mmkin]

Get You Some Arlong ch 8

I'm considering adding a subtitle to the title of this story. 'Get You Some Arlong' was meant to be a tongue in cheek title since I couldn't seem to think of a good one (they all sounded silly and cheesy) but now I would like to add a more serious one. Suggestions welcome

Ch 8 of the story is now up for those who enjoy my Smexy Fishmen stories. Chapter is NSFW/18+ but all consensual. TW mentions of biting/blood but consensual.

As a treat here is a new picture of Arlong and Squid I drew yesterday. I wanted Squid more feminine looking so I put her hair down, but now i can't help but think of the Rachel haircut and the outfit Luann wore for most of King of the Hill lmao. (these drawings I've been doing recently take about 15 min each in case anyone is wondering) Chapter is also included here under the cut.

VIII

When I first started planning this fic, it had been meant to be a fun one or maybe two-shot of smutty headcanons featuring that smexy sharkman, but after I watched the Sabaody and Fishman Island arcs, I wanted to do something more with Arlong, especially given the flashbacks we see of him in the Fishman Island episodes. I mean, how could I not?

Now we’re at 8 chapters and it feels like Arlong’s Reader has become more of an OC because of how much I have invested in this story and now I’m even wondering if I should write about Arlong having a child with his little squid. But hell, I had fun writing this, and falling down the delightful rabbit hole that is One Piece, and I’m happy for the new buddies I made in the fandom. If you enjoy this story, please check out the companion piece I am working on, ‘Get You Some Arlong Pirates’ which is a collection of stories featuring Arlong’s Big Three.

All reviews, feedbacks, recs and reblogs are sincerely welcome and very much appreciated by this author who works so hard to bring you smexy fishman stories.

o0o0o0o

Tempers were high. So was drunkenness. You were pretty buzzed, but unlike Toma, you weren’t the type of person to get volatile after a few drinks. Arlong, on the other hand… well, pissing off a drunk Arlong is never a good idea. No one needed to tell you that, but seeing a drunk, angry Arlong in action is not something you’ll forget. Especially when Arlong is angry because he’s defending you.

Toma's friends desert him, melting into the shadows or diving into the water as Arlong takes hold of his misbehaving subordinate. You see the panic in Toma's eyes, the realization that he absolutely, positively fucked up, and that he'll be lucky to get out of this alive. Part of you feels sorry for him because you remember how terrified you'd been after confessing to Arlong what you did for Nami. Arlong's maw is not something anyone wants to be looking at, especially if there's the chance they'll go down it.

Arlong doesn’t rip Toma apart, but the fishman got a bite from his captain that he’s not going to forget anytime soon, however superior fishmen may be to humans in terms of durability. It’ll be a while before he can do any work, and the ones who egged him on will be responsible for his care as well as the work he was supposed to do.

You sit in the corner of the foredeck, processing what just happened. You have to admit to yourself that it was nice having Arlong come in like he was your knight in shining armor. You might not be a captive princess, but all things considered, being a pirate is much more fun.

You nurse a bottle of rum, letting the buzz soothe your nerves.

“Do you really think we shouldn’t sell them?” you hear Chew ask. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you do not realize immediately the question was aimed at you. You turn to where Arlong and the Big Three sit, lounging in the chairs that would normally only be used by the top-ranking officers of the ship and their guests.

“There’s several reasons. I was serious when I said we shouldn’t bring ourselves down to their level. I have nothing but sympathy for those of us who spent time as slaves. There are plenty of things we do to retaliate against those who would harm us, and we are called many things. Let’s not add ‘slaver’ to that list, all right?” you ask, but before anyone can answer, you continue, “Sure, there would be a profit in Berries, but humans are generally the cheapest on the slave market, so in the long run, I do not believe it would be worth it, especially as the Marines are bound to notice when a number of their own turn up on the market. And last but not least, engaging in the slave trade would just bring us more attention. There’s already enough to deal with because of the new additions to your territory and the extra manpower needed to maintain these holdings. Plenty of people hate slavers – humans, too. You see how they enslave one another, not just other races.”

Arlong stares at you but says nothing. Chew gulps his drink. Kuroobi has his arms crossed, looking at you. Hatchan simply nods.

“With this many Marines in our custody, I am sure we can find at least a few that can be bought off. Nezumi can only oversee so much territory, after all. As for the rest, this is the biggest vessel we’ve captured, so I don’t doubt we have some skilled people down there. We can use them and have them teach what they know to fishmen.” Despite the World Government’s official stance on equal rights for various races, there is one glaring fact – there is not one single fishman in the Marines. Nor are you aware of any other race than humans or giants being enrolled in the Marines.

“They can still be a source of income… just a more steady and permanent one. With slaves, once they’re sold, they’re gone, and so are any useful skills they might possess. If we keep them, others can’t use them against us. We have Marines here, not just civilians. Let us use them for the glory of the Arlong Empire,” you add coldly. At that, you see a smile stretch Chew’s pert lips while Kuroobi looks at his captain.

“I do not disagree with the idea,” Kuroobi concedes. “We can always threaten or kill anyone who refuses to cooperate.”

“There we go," you say dryly, raising your bottle to him before taking a long swig. After they talk a bit more, Arlong's friends leave one by one, leaving the two of you alone, the sound of waves lapping against the hull and cries of seabirds fill the silence. The morning will come, with plenty of work to do, so you are happy for these quiet moments with him.

“Thank you for being a gentleman and so gallantly coming to my aid,” you tease him. Moonlight catches in his eyes as he looks at you, and the corners of his mouth pull his expression into an appreciative smirk.

“I can not have anyone disrespecting my mate,” he comments with a faint growl.

“When did that happen?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“This is not the first time you’ve called me that,” you say quietly. “But we never courted, or made an agreement…” You trail off, knowing that’s going to sound pretty weak to someone such as Arlong as soon as the words slip past your lips.

“So?’ His gaze is cool and predatory.

So… what? “I…” You pause, unsure of how to express your thoughts.

“You object?” He leans closer to you. You ponder your answer. You do not object to the position you are currently in. You just… sort of wish you had been asked. Maybe it’s the romantic side of you. You know that this man is a predator. He is selfish, possessive, easy to anger, and prideful. Still, you let him have you. You can’t say that he hasn’t treated you well.

“… No,” you reply quietly, but in a firm tone as you look at him. “I don’t know if I sound silly to you, but…” You look down.

“You do sound a bit silly. I will not hold it against you, little squid." You feel his hand under your chin. "Think about it. You have told me in no unclear terms, multiple times that you were mine. Whether in answer to my questions or making these declarations on your own."

You blush at that, and he grins, baring these sharp teeth that had just torn into someone to defend you. There is still a bit of blood just past his lower lip.

“You took a great risk with Nami, knowing my wrath. You did it because you cared for me.”

“I do.”

“That is when I knew you would be a worthy mate. And you did not object the first time I called you that, did you?”

“… No, Arlong,” you concede. “Though that’s not entirely fair… you had me in a position where I could not really think to object…”

He chuckles at that, taking pleasure in the fond memory. Fond, indeed, since you were right there with him, sharing and making these memories.

“After all the time we’ve spent, and what we shared, do you have doubts?” he asks.

“No, Arlong. That’s not it…”

You feel his other hand grasp your forearm, forcing you to scoot your chair closer to his.

“I just wish you had asked me. I know it’s a small thing considering what we’ve done, but it still startled me when you called me mate the first time,” you admit.

“Is that so?” You feel his fingers trail along the inside of your arm, and that sends pleasing shivers down your arm and spine. “What’s done is done, little squid.”

So it was done. Many times in the past, and the future holds the same. You do not pull away as he caresses your arm or other places.

o0o0o0o

You and Chew are sitting at the bar, going over the most recent messages. Arlong and Kuroobi are away with a troop of fishmen, leaving Chew in charge of Arlong Park. You’re not a leader in Arlong’s crew, but being his mate does place you firmly in a position of respect, especially among those who know about you.

And since Arlong’s friends are a big part of his life, it means they’re going to be part of yours, regardless of how you feel about them. It’s a good thing you’re already solid friends with Hatchan, and it seems that your relationship with the other two may become more than polite. Which would be nice, you have to admit. You normally didn’t stay long enough in one place to make more than acquaintances, but you know that you’re here for the long run, as a member of Arlong’s crew and as his mate. And Arlong’s friends were fiercely loyal to him and their shared goals, so you were going to be spending a fair amount of time around one another.

“I miss him.” you sigh almost without thinking as you flip through some papers to make sure you didn’t miss anything. You woke up this morning hot and irritable, and cursed the fact that Arlong had to be fucking gone when you were starting one of your heat cycles. You would find things to distract yourself with, and once you were done meeting with Chew, you were going for a long, cold swim.

You feel a little embarrassed once the words slip past your tongue. You don’t want to sound needy or whiny. After all, Arlong had to deal with the loneliness at home when you were out on a mission. You were a grown adult, and you’d deal with this.

“Hm.” Chew lets out a quiet hum as he glances over a page before he speaks. “You really care for him.”

You’re not sure if that’s a question or a statement. But a nod works either way. “So do you,” comes your soft reply. “As a longtime friend and nakama, I mean…”

He nods in affirmation. You make notations on a couple of the papers. So you both care about Arlong and share the same desire to see him home safe. How warm and cozy.

“I am happy for my brother.” He looks up from the paper to meet your gaze. You get the feeling that he has something he wants to say, but is not quite sure if you’re close enough to share his confidence. You give him an encouraging smile.

“But I do wonder if you have any lady friends who might want to come here…" He raises his eyebrow, and you let out a small, warm laugh. It's as you've noticed since you first arrived here, it's pretty much a sausage party even though now there are a few fishwomen in the village. There is quite a ways to go, but it's a start.

“I’m working on it.” You raise the tumbler of tangerine juice you were sipping. “To friendship… and happiness.” you offer. Chew raises his bottle and you clink the glass together.

After you’re done with Chew, you go for that swim, trying to tire yourself out with mad laps around the island.

But it seems like it’s going to be a restless night.

Arlong doesn't keep toys around, nor does he want you to keep any. After all, as Arlong reasons, whatever do you need such things for when you have him? His fishman pride disdains these toys that humans use for their pleasure, pointing this out as another example of their inferiority.

And yes, when he’s around, you don’t need any of these toys you’ve seen in advertisements in certain magazines. But when you’re alone, what the fuck are you supposed to do to satisfy that ache in your loins? Your fingers and tentacles just don’t cut it, however much you try to use your tentacles to fill your passage in an attempt to stimulate the fullness of Arlong’s cock(s), or when you use your fingers to try to stimulate what Arlong does to your clit.

Any pleasure you achieve is minimal. You would be lying if you said that propositioning a fishman didn’t pass through your mind.

“Fuck, Arlong!” you exclaim in an angry whine. Part of you wants to give up, knowing that you’re not going to get full satisfaction without Arlong’s help. The other part of you is stubborn, demanding at least some release from the heat that aches between your legs.

Fucking heat. It’s awesome when you have a mate to share it with, but absolute misery when you’re on your own. You’re curled up on your side, working at yourself frantically and commanding your body to release some of that pressure already so you can move the fuck on and hopefully get a few hours of sleep before the sun comes up.

“Fuck… come the fuck on…" you pant and gasp. You can feel how engorged your clit is against your fingers, and your insides respond to the friction against its surfaces, but your body also knows that it's not the real thing. You arch your back and curl your toes, increasing the intensity of your self-ministrations while imagining Arlong being the one to give you such attention. You're so lost in your work and muttering heatedly that you do not hear the door to the bedroom open and then close.

Arlong stands there for several moments, eyes adjusting to the semidarkness as he watches you try to bring yourself some measure of satisfaction. The scent of your heat is heavy in the air within the confines of the room, with the effect that one would expect. His shorts become too tight as he listens to your frustrated mewls, your hips rocking, your appendages making soft, wet sounds as they work at the most intimate part of you.

“Y/n,” you hear a growl, and you’re so feverish with pent-up energy that you think you’re hearing things.

“Arlong…” you breathe, trying to visualize him. It’s not as if you don’t have enough memories of his face, his voice, his touch, his smell, his taste… but what is an illusion compared to the real thing? It’s not until you hear cloth dropping to the floor that it dawns upon you that your desires are manifesting themselves into reality.

Your eyelids flutter open, and you gasp softly to see Arlong standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. It takes a couple of seconds – and the sound of his breathing – for you to realize that he really, truly is there, in the flesh, and from the looks of his cocks and hungry grin, ready to ravish you.

“Arlong…! How did you…” you manage to gasp out.

“The job was a success, and so I hastened back home. None too soon, from the looks of it…" he says in that lustful chortle that makes you feel so dirty but in such a good way…

“None too soon," you agree, withdrawing your appendages from yourself, and spreading out for him. He had better not tease you…

Fortunately, it seems like being apart from you has built up his need as well, for he climbs on top of you, giving you the attention you so crave. He pounds into you with a ferocity that pushes all non-sexual thoughts from your head. Your cries and shrieks fill the room, as do his roars and growls.

After several rounds, you indicate to him that you want him to clasp his cocks. This is a rare treat for him, and he is all too happy to oblige. The soreness that will come from this is well worth the abatement of that maddening heat, and you arch against him as he pushes the fullness of his manhood into you. It almost seems as if he might break the bed itself with the way he’s going at you, not that you’re doing anything to stop him.

Aren't you just so happy that he came home early? He only leaves your side to get drinks and towels to refresh or clean up. You cling to him and he keeps his arms around you as you lay there together, basking in the afterglow of a passionate session. You run your hand along his chest and arms, savoring the feel of his sharkskin. You rub your cheek against him and kiss his chest, feeling his heartbeat and breathing. He has a nose and fangs that can tear you apart and arms that can break you, but there's no safer place in the world for you than his embrace.

You love him.

Love. It’s not a word to use around Arlong, and you’re not sure if it will ever be. Love, in Arlong’s eyes, is a weakness, a human sentimentality, a silly dream fed by romance books and old tales of chivalry. So it’s a word that you do not allow yourself to voice.

It’s not that he’s not capable of caring. You know he cares about his crew, especially the Big Three. And there’s no doubt he cares about you. But Arlong is Arlong. The words he chooses to express his bonds with the people he cares about are more pragmatic. ‘Brother/sister’, ‘nakama’, or 'mate' are roles he assigns with respect.

You wonder if, in the future, Arlong will ever soften in his feelings towards this 'pathetic human sentimentality' because even though you accept that Arlong is the way he is, you'd be thrilled if one day he were to ever tell you that he loves you. Maybe you've spent too much time around humans and some of their notions have rubbed off on you...

“I’m happy to be your mate,” you say as you look up at him, placing kisses along his jaw as you hook an arm around his neck, your chest flush against his own as you drape a leg across his hip.

“Mmm. Good,” Arlong rumbles as he runs his hand through your hair. “You are a worthy mate, indeed. I could not ask for anyone more pleasing,” You feel his lips press against your forehead.

You did not realize it at this time, but that is one of his ways of telling you he loves you. You bask in his affection, studying how the moonlight drains nearly all the color from his skin to leave it a pale silver tinged with just a bare hint of color, the sun on his left chest standing out in a red so dark it's almost black.

‘I could hear you moaning outside the door before I came in,” Arlong comments. His fingers trail along your hairline. “And the scent of your heat… I’m almost surprised there wasn’t a pack of fishmen thronged outside,” he adds with a tone that is a mixture of lecherousness, smugness, and pride. You blow a raspberry at him, and he rumbles out a low laugh.

“You had best get some rest, Y/n. There’s plenty to do in the morning.”

“Only if you hold me,” comes your reply. He tightens his embrace, and you smile to yourself as you cuddle with him.

o0o0o0o

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that,” you comment as you see the headless body of Buggy the Clown struggle against his restraints for several seconds before going slack, a curious trophy among the prizes displayed in the games of Arlong Park. Arlong might have simply disposed of him as he has done to many others who challenge him, but in the clown's case, it was because he was trying to run his own operations in Arlong's territory.

However, this Devil Fruit user and his particular abilities have caught Arlong’s interest, so your captain has decided to make use of him as suits his skills. His head is safely secured within the building, on a level where just Arlong or his Big Three have access, at least when he’s not being used elsewhere. Chew has taken to taunting Buggy, keeping his head firmly tied in the sack while walking by the body several times, Buggy’s white glove-clad hands reaching uselessly for its head. The clown will protest, of course, but his head does not come out of the bag unless there is enough distance between the two parts of his body, or Arlong locks his body in a trunk as he’s done a few times. The clown was being especially mouthy this afternoon, so Buggy will be in solitary confinement for the rest of the night.

You have to admit, there's a certain charm about that human, at least when he's not being too annoying. You've kept mostly out of the way, simply listening as he goes back and forth with Arlong or Chew. It's a weird kind of dinner theater, and you have to admit it does make the park a bit livelier when Arlong puts Buggy's head on a table for show. On occasion, you feel bad for the clown, because hey, it has to be an absolutely weird experience being separated from your body and completely helpless to the whims of a pissed-off sharkman pirate captain.

The clown was quite resistant to his situation at first, but the need to be reunited with the rest of himself is wearing him down, and Arlong knows that. So the sharkman just shrugs and laughs at your comment while his crew sits around him, drinking, playing games, and gambling with their cut of this month’s tribute money while Buggy fumes and schemes and you have to admit to yourself that you wonder what the clown might do or say when Arlong brings out the head tomorrow morning. Buggy might not have intended it, but he’s now providing Arlong Park with entertainment, with Arlong as his defacto manager.

o0o0o0o

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” you whisper as you stroke the hair from Arlong’s face. The blue is cold and clear, terrifying when he is angry or predatory, and brings out the cool lavender tones in his skin.

But right now, you see his eyes gleam with warmth as he looks up at you. You press your lips to his temple as you caress his cheek. Several months have passed since that fateful night on the Marine ship. There is a definite shift in the way some of the fishmen regard you. Toma serves as a clear lesson – or two of them. First, do not assume that the mighty Captain Arlong will allow himself to be controlled by anyone. And secondly, don’t fuck with Arlong’s mate.

What’s done is done.

“Oh, before we get too comfortable, I have something for you.” He rises, the back of him almost as impressive as the front. His dorsal fin juts out from the wild mane of black hair that’s spread between his wide shoulders, and you are also afforded a nice view of a glorious ass and legs that almost seem to go on forever. You wonder what this little interlude will bring and what could distract Arlong from getting ready to climb on top of you as you know he was about to.

He pulls a small velvet bag from a desk drawer before returning to the bed. Your curiosity is piqued and he knows it.

He pulls out a stacked gold chain bracelet, seven strands of golden chains almost as thick as your pinky, connected at both ends with matching gold bars that clasp together. It is an ideal piece of jewelry for someone who spends a lot of time swimming, with no jewels or embellishments that are vulnerable to salt water. The design is simple but elegant, and you imagine how it will look on your arm. You wonder if there is any special occasion for such a lavish gift, and try to remember if there's any significance to today's date…

“I know I told you before that what is done is done,” you hear him say as you stare at the bracelet draped across his palm, shining that deep, rich yellow under the lamplight. You blink and look up at him in surprise.

“But I am asking you now.” He lifts his hand. “Do you accept?”

“Yes,” you breathe You repeat the word more loudly, lifting your left arm so that he can put the bracelet around your wrist. His large fingers struggle for a moment with the toggle clasp, but the bar slides home and the cool metal rests comfortably against your skin. It’s an appropriate complement to the thick gold chains around his wrist and neck.

“Looks good on you,” he comments. You regard him with a happy smirk.

“I know that’s not the only thing you have to offer,” you reply. Not that you’re not grateful for the gorgeous – and quite valuable – gift he’s just given you, but Arlong is Arlong. You know him too well, and the gleam in his eye tells you that he knows exactly what you meant. You can’t deny that Arlong was – is – right about you being his mate.

One might even call you his Siren, even if you do not count singing among your abilities. He’s inexorably drawn to you as you are to him, since the first moment you laid eyes upon one another, before either of you quite understood what you were feeling.

He rises on his knees, leaning over you, and the familiar lust surges fresh in you as you respond to instinct, your loins pulling toward him. A downward gaze reveals both of his cocks on full display, and there is no denying the visual appeal of an attractive man displaying his arousal for you.

“Arlong,” you purr as he closes in on you.

o0o0o0o

(Arlong’s POV)

His mother is lost forever. His father abandoned him. Even his sister became distant from him. Fisher Tiger was dead, and Jinbe… hm.

He leans over his mate, looking down at her as he strokes her arm and back, careful around the area on her shoulder where he’d bitten her. Marks from his nose were visible on her neck and cheek. There was another bite on her hip. He was careful to not do these sorts of things to her too often, and the mark on her cheek was no accident – he was mindful about his nose in regards to that lovely face of hers.

He will mark her again and again. The tattoo is not going away. Cum can be cleaned off, but he can always produce more, and enjoy himself while doing so. The bites and sawnose cuts heal and he is sincerely glad for that, for his mate’s sake. But there is something about the act of biting or marking her in itself, committing the deed on her, the thrill of knowing she is his and that she accepts and even welcomes it, tasting her blood and the vitality she brings into his life.

He places kisses along the puncture marks on her shoulder, careful with his nose as he nuzzles her. She is his mate, and he knows he will never let her go.

It honestly surprised him, what she'd said that night after he'd disciplined the fishman who'd tried to bully her. At that time, he didn't see why a seemingly small matter should bother her so much when she'd come to him freely. He did not doubt her loyalty or care for him.

He told her that what was done was done, and why not? He asked her if she objected to being his mate, and she said no. The matter was settled, and she accepted his amorous advances, making fierce love with him in the captain's quarters, christening his newly-acquired Marine ship. Life was good.

But what she said nagged him. It was such a small and trifling thing, so why should it bother him? And why was she bothered about it in the first place? It wasn’t until a conversation with his officers about tributes and collections that he started to understand. When he came here, he’d taken the island. Then the others surrounding it. And so on. He wanted something, he took it. He did not ask these weak humans if they wanted to be part of the Arlong Empire, or if they wanted to pay him tribute for their pathetic lives.

She wasn’t simply something to be taken – however much their intimate activities might indicate otherwise – but something to be valued. Making this simple gesture would make her feel valued, and didn’t she deserve to feel valued by the mighty Arlong the Saw?

Arlong hated to admit that he felt a bit nervous when trying to decide what he would give her as a physical reminder of this gesture. Finally, he’d decided upon the gold bracelet, something practical but valuable and a status symbol that speaks well of both its giver and recipient. And it did look good on her, the polished metal setting off the cool tones of her skin.

“You do know that this means I am never, ever letting you go, mate?” he asks with a growl, his hand running along her arm, feeling the gold on her wrist. Although he’d already made that decision a long time ago, he thinks with satisfaction, he would enjoy reminding her now and then.

She is his mate, the velvet glove to his iron fist, the voice of reason to his power and rage. He curls up around her protectively and possessively.

“Is the big, bad sharkman threatening me with a good time?” she replies with a smirk.

“Shahahahaha!”

o0o0o0o

And that’s how you got you some Arlong. All the Arlong, in fact.

SHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

This picture is what I imagined for the gift that Arlong gave Y/n.

[dragonbard-bastard]

Started writing down what I did today to make lil summary posts cuz I've seen people do that before and like the idea of sharing more about my runs :)

Act 1 Spoilers!

The first thing I did was talk to Omeluum and Blurg, and I js wanna say I love them :) they're so husbands. We also went to the Arcane Tower and unlocked it and such, very nice, got the timmask spores and tongue of madness, forgot to go back to Blurg and Omeluum. Oops. Discovered that the tower has a BASEMENT!?

Spent a lot of time talking to corpses for fun. Canonically Soph would never- he'd rarely ever touch necrotic magic of any kind of ever. It would also freak him tf out.

We got Astarion's Sussur dagger!!! It's probably one of my favorite weapons in the early game, fuck them spellcasters fr. ALSO since I'm playing Tactician and long rests cost 80 camp supplies rather than fourth I've been very greedy with it so when we went into the Underdark Astarion was like "Hey .. Can I ermm tell you something. I'm. I'm a vampire." and Soph just said "Duh" and moved on 😭😭😭

Also for the not long resting reason Wyll only recently got his horns. Told Mizora to fuck off, and of COURSE called Wyll a handsome devil. Am growing increasingly aggravated as time goes on, however, about a lack of Wyll content. He literally won't even say well met anymore he has ONE LINE. no variety, just "You have something to ask?"

Dug up a dog's grave. I'm so sorry Myrna. Apologized by putting some flowers and a candle on it, it was all I had unfortunately.

I actually long rested twice in an row, one without using any camp supplies ofc, because I wanted the invisible Durge cape and it's actually shockingly good on Soph. I should probably give it to Astarion but I don't want to :(

Went to the mountain pass because I didn't want to go to grymforge, stole everything from the bitch who wanted the githyanki egg then murdered her because I hate her and what the fuck

fought the gremishkas (Astarion one shot a surprising AMT of them, it was awesome) and the Kobold. I tried to blow up as little of the wine as I could because more camp supplies, and found out you can apparently pocket the fire wine barrels with kobold still on them. This will be incredibly funny when I use the barrels as bombs later. DAMN I FORGOT TO TAKE A SS OF MY BARREL BOMB COLLECTION. Here's one from yesterday, though it's grown.

went to creche y'llek . went to the zaithisk, let Lae'zel use it, did this on the first persuasion check, did not use an inspiration.

Absolutely brutalized the bitches outside of the infirmary, I put an oil barrel underneath one of the light fixtures then shot it down at the start of the fight 😭😭😭

went to fight kith'rak therezynn, remembered why I ate the mountain pass. had to reload like three times until I was like fuck this Wyll go home Gale use arcane lock on this stupid door and then it was going decently well Lae'zel knocked the soul breaker out of her hands and later got her own weapon knocked out of her hands, perfect time to switch to the soul breaker I'd say. near the end of the fight a random fucking raider spawned right next to therezynn. just poof. right into existence. I was floored and slightly annoyed but therezynn hit him w a burning hands and took off half his health anyways???

Soph told the Inquisitor he can't have the weapon, the Inquisitor did not like this. Lae'zel stole his sword too and nearly killed him in four hits. He did become a pain in the ass w the mind steal link tho because oml he stole his own teammates minds or whatever. didn't know he'd do that. Wyll went down to this ranged attacker multiple times and I tried to use heat metal on him but he WASNT METAL. BULLSHIT. LOOK AT ALL THAT M E T A L.

Anyways, Soph got pissed about them hurting Wyll, went crazy went stupid, murdered the absolutely 100% has metal on him guy and one of the last spellcasters. told vlaakith to fuck off, visited the dream visitor, said get up boy I ain't killing you, signed off, and will now go eep.

Ty for reading :3

[tlgpandoramia]

Chapter One : The Mortifalia

Notes : Hiii, after some inner struggle I decided to share some of my book in Tumblr. I'm just yearning for some feedback XD so I would appreaciate any, but please do be kind, that's my first draft and English is not my native language. Please, don't repost anywhere without my permission. Enjoy!

Word Counting : 4020k

Rate: 16+

`'Read my words well, as I write this under some influence, I feel that my head is about to pop, no idea if all those vaccines shots put a chip, or another virus inside of me, or maybe is just that fucking MORT-09 shit scratching my brain. The doctor said I just got to avoid everything and avoid to drink too much water and take sunbath, easy for that fucker to say, I feel like my body is completely dried, even my lips are all numb and rough for lack of water, the fever is not helping either. Anyway, screw that medical garbage, all the hospitals are full like a Best Buy in a sale day, everyone is coughing blood, and some are even bleeding from the eyes, mouth, nose, ears and pretty much everywhere, is so disgusting to see that, so I prefer to stay at home, at least here I have internet, my computer and nobody looking like a weird horror story. But, the doctors gave me a shot, a vaccine of some sort, saying that it isn't one hundred percent efficient, but it should help the immune system to fight the virus, I say it is bullshit, is not doing anything and my right arm is still sore from that stupid needle.

They said that this new virus came from a plant, or a flower, whatever, is the freaking same thing. But is ugly, last week when I had to go take the shot, I saw a guy bleeding from the head, like someone had cut the top and left it to bleed, the messed up part is that it wasn't normal red blood, but dark like a can of black tint, like a midnight lagoon, the news said that this is the last stage before going into coma, then is over, you fall into a sleep and that's it.

After the shot, I started having nightmares, not the usual scary bloody clown chasing you through an abandoned factory, kind of nightmare, but some real things, like it seems it actually happened, I don't know if it was just a weak moment from my delirious mind, this fucking fever and all the stress, but I heard some feral noises, sounding like shrinks coming straight off a hellish forest. Then I woke up, and saw something through the bedroom window leading to the yard, it was a black shadow of some sort, but it had flesh underneath, it was moving in like a foggy way, giggling around and lifting itself like a cloud of gas. I was up and ready, I know this, I even remember when the trigger was pulled and the bullet hit it. I even buried it, but its always coming back, digging itself off that dirt and the grass, I see it everywhere, in the corner of my eyes, inside the pipes, struggling to get inside, pushing the door and floating around, just like that damn black fog, or spores, that I see when the ignites are on, the vacuum cleaner can't deal with that, I used it, then the next day they reappeared, but that giant human shape black fog is always coming back, doesn't matter how deep I dig it.

Yesterday I spent eight hours watching over the window, aware all the time, feeling my eyes burning and the muscles cramping, but somehow I couldn't stop it, like a sleep paralysis. That's was when I started seeing that white glow fog on every surface, just floating and existing, when I left the house they turned into those huge shining orbs on the dark sky, glowing and singing to me, chanting in a soprano voice, beautiful and peaceful, something that I didn't felt in a long time, it was like angels telling me to law down and accept my death, that they would take me to a better place if I only allow it, that feeling of being rotten from the inside vanished, even the nightmares.

I...We, all thought that this virus was just another excuse for the big pharmaceutical companies to make vaccines and earn billions, but this is different, it doesn't feel like a conspiracy theory or something, it feels real.

My blood turned black, yet sometimes I can catch a glimpse of the red color if I look hard enough.

Today is October six of two thousands and seventeen, three days after the hospital visit, the news aren't positive or hopeful, showing footage of hospital being overrun by sick people, bodies being transported in every available vehicle and being toss inside containers, some are saying that that's it, the end of humankind, between that and global warming is a tough situation to get yourselves out of it.

This Mortifalia, isn't new, I heard about it back in two thousand and six, people from all over the world used it for different purposes, some native used it the flower as a medicine, others eat it like a meal, a few beauty industry people discovered and started using in cosmetics, and not to mention how some would use it as a drug, grab the flower, smash it and mix with hot water, then just smell that thing, it would give anyone a huge high, I did that back in university years ago, maybe that's how I got it, since nobody infected came near me in years and I barely leave my house for three years. When it started becoming an issue back in two thousand and thirteen, the government said that if you took the nitrogen pills and all the vaccines, you would be fine, and so we carry on in this pandemic. In those years almost nobody died, only going into coma, millions of people went to deep sleep, some remained to recent days, I know some people had the virus in the past and nothing happened, but now they are numbers in intensive care units. A little to late, but I throw away all that had the ``dormant Mortifalia``in their formulas, the shampoos, deodorant and that cursed healing water for the skin, they always said that it was impossible for those products to infected someone since the virus within was dead, who knows...Maybe that how I got infected or the flower smelling. Is unusual to say, but I feel at peace, feeling like I could just lay down and sleep forever, the angels don't stop to speak with me, but a part of me feels that this is wrong. There is no peace at slavery, at being a puppet, I'm a salve for a thing that is controlling me, commanding me in everything, even my own thoughts, and words. No! My words are my own, shut up now, and stop whispering in my ears, telling me what to do, or is this just what I'm supposed to believe? It's controlling me, I know, just like a puppet of an insane puppet master. The smell of blood is strong coming from the next house. No, it doesn't! Maybe I should watch those angels in the sky for a little longer.'' Words found in a pre outbreak letter

The story circles to the future, two thousand and twenty seven, disclosing around survivors, one in particular being Miyako Uzume, descendant of an ancient Japanese family with roots of witchcraft and a rumor of ``Chosen by a God``, bound by a promise with a deity until end of times. ``One shall see beyond men logical perspective, blessed to not join the army of pawns that shall walk upon Earth`` An old prophecy that turned the family popular back in Japan, as nobody appreciates they.

Enough of mysticism, those word are only coming out because I fear to speak about the reality that we set upon yourselves.

Beyond the metal and atomic bomb resistant walls, lies something that would make death seems like a frail human, extermination, nothing less. The girl don't remember how the world looked outside the metal box, how most of the days were spend hiding behind the apartment and looking out of the window, never coming in contact with people of the same age or friends in general, weeks would go by and only the sight of the family members could be seen, alongside the smell of recent baked cookies and how loud the progenitor used to listen to the news, yet for her the words never made much of a sense, considering that English proved to be different from asian mother tongue. Although melancholic and boring, the past hits with a home sick feeling, coming in strong and persistent.

Most people misses the old world with all of their hearts, the daily activities, go to work, bar and parties, hear those meaningless celebrities news and the idea of just existing. An emotion not share by the child, as it may be that those were never experienced, if the inner thoughts would ever be spoken out loud, strangers would condemn, after all who could be sympathetic towards someone that believes in the idea of a pandemic world being better that the past one, overall humans grew simplistic, surviving and coping with the past takes all their time, left with no time to judge others or the path someone else wishes to walk upon, worrying about surviving another day.

Dreams of traveling, earning degrees, buying houses and last generations vehicles were crushed years ago, if one were blessed by Lady Luck an approval letter for a shelter program or an invite to live inside a Military Zone arrived in the mailbox a few days before the breaking day, half of the issues could've been dealt with it, however feeling safe also worked as an ultimatum. To be able to live inside a secure place, a citizen should proves useful, assigned to be a working member of the new society, either by attending educational institutions, tasked to a specific job or being less fortunate and work as a manufacturing worker, aiding to keep the places sturdy, maybe joining the militia, options are limited, nevertheless one still has the power of choosing, even though this power lies in two paths, accept it or leave it.

Young kids or infant born within those camps believed that the inanimate concrete and steel is a sentient deity, that shields they for the horror of the outside world, of the lands dominated by the infected, kilometers of the Black Fog covering the capitals, corruption eating away every miserable human settlement out there. Cursing someone to go to hell no longer works, now the most lucky ones wishes for others to go beyond the walls and experience how it feels out there, death penalties also ceased to exist, if one commits a crime that calls for severe punishment, then exile seems logical enough.

Hopes for an ordinary life died six years ago, a major pike of infection overwhelmed hospitals across the world, and it couldn't function anymore with millions of humans going into stasis, the point of no returning, after a few more hours the virus had full control over the host. Despite never witnessing an infected or a victim, children that grew up in shelters learned about it, The Manual describes them as ``Former humans, now in absolute control of the Mortifalia``. Diversified by five stages, all shared an importance, yet the first worries the doctors, taking place between four to six hours after a bite, scratch, breathing the spores or by simple coming in contact with infected blood, airborne took most of the victims, as they never noticed it until the last moment, some areas in cities are so deep within Its territory that the air itself is bio hazard, one dies by suffocation before turning into a Courier.

Shelters were built by the Saga Corporation, half of it were put inside major military camps, however the organization took responsibility to generate their own food, water and electricity supplies. Each party has their own objectives, the military one being to avoid infected near the borders, as a high concentration of the infection can cause a Nucleus to be form, spreading the Black Fog through the wind, even infectiing the rain and the soil itself.

Miyako rest as the youngest daughter of the prestigious virologist, Doctor Reira Uzume, a veteran researcher of the Mortifalia and a key factor for creating a vaccine, the child takes the mother word over anything, admiring her beyond compression, a woman capable of running for president, if the government worked like before, the Uzume matriarch wrote half of The Manual Of The Infection, responsible for gathering information about the virus and how to deal with it in hundred of scenarios.

The others countries remains until this day, yet details of what happened and what became of the provisional laws is a privilege meant for a few high rank officers. The USA fragmented itself in regimes called Provisional Governments, a president figure persisted, however with less power and no longer representing a political wing. With a mandate lasting three years, they need to allied themselves with the Military, Scientific or Industrial party, each with its own beliefs on how to deal with the virus and prevent humans to be extinct, and of course, making sure that the walls remains strong.

A prestige biologist, Katherine Williams sits in the White House, feeding the hope of a vaccine to save the world, whoever the truth doesn't aligned itself with this ideal. The group has the duty of maintaining the hospitals, camps and clinics, while creating ways of improving the new educational system, and worshiping the possibility of a vaccine.

Every night Miyako wonders what happened to the apartment, now laying in a prohibit area of DC, almost all were left behind, even Ren, a teddy bear given by her brother in the girl six year old birthday. On the day the world died, a group of men wearing white tuxedos knocked on the family door, demanding the four to pack it up in essential and leave for the shelter located somewhere in the capital heart, a lot of things were considered useless baggage by the agents, not allowing more that two pair of clothes and shoes, going against the orders, the oldest son sneaked away nail polishes for his sister, storing it all away inside the jacket pockets.

Once upon a time, feed the wishful think that the things left behind would feel alone and abandoned, just like she does. Through all the way to the landing spot, many people were roaming the street, some sick and wandering around, enjoying the last minutes before falling into coma, while others were protesting for a solution, gathering around the military camp protecting the white house, begging to be let inside, the scream mattered not, as none of those outside made it

That night marked the first time she left the secured place for a non medical reason, it felt engulf at some point, as the air itself attempted to crush her lungs, however the safe heaven tagged along, once more, as he promised to do each time. The vision of the round metal vault door closing imprinted itself as an intruder memory, the noise, the staff affirming in a loop that nobody should worry about anything, the smell of smoke and the red light shining, as the door closed to never be opened again, for others present there the sight worked as a reminder of hope and safety, yet for her it mold as a frightened event, locked inside a place with people that controlled the child's life since the first day.

Shelter...A fancy word to be buried inside an underground facility, in the false illusion of safety against everything the outside could throw at it, from atomic bombs to the Black Fog, the idea of holding yourself in an infection free zone, with food, water and light sounds perfect, built inside the biggest military camp in the country, as a warning to the government on who runs the show, although fools believes that the construction happened to create a harmonic relationship with the politicians.

In the middle of the cold and empty metal hallways, a Observatarium takes place, covering several meters of the gigantic room, an enormous and thin screen showing realistic videos of a snowy tundra, as a light snow falls on top of the trees. She's able to witness such landscape through the brother's eyes, again, a promise from long time ago.

Mafuyu serves as her eyes and protector since the girl came into the world, ignoring all else and silently focusing the eyesight so she can enjoy it to the max, a fake nature, yet it brings comfort.

Never allowed to try for friends, as the doctors redeem her immune system too weak to be close to others, so the young men turned into something more that just a brother, a friend, a father figure and someone who wished nothing more that her well being. The two would spend hours playing or watching television, in the beginning he didn't hesitated to believe in the sight story, and when the truth that Yuki never existed came to be, Mafuyu one more time jump to the ``It's okay`` part, talking with their parents and explaining what it meant, for the youngest they share more that blood, someone who took over all of possible roles, the burning feeling irradiating in the lower abdomen fades when she can rest her head on the teen shoulder, sure that nothing out there can bring harm to the siblings.

An imaginary gust of wind blows the Uzume hair, as the elder sibling beside smiles and laughs, revealing to be the one blowing the air, extending the playful moment to the max.

they cares not about what happened in the past or that others misses the old world, as not even the apocalypse could change the family routine, or the parents lack of attention to their children, since the beginning, he remembers the adult overworking themselves to the extreme, leaving the siblings without a guide, Mafuyu felt lost for years, not sure if those two people were his parents or just someone that shares the same blood, when Reira announced another pregnancy, he knew that the same fate waited the infant, a life of loneliness, and to never hear a parent saying ``I love you``, fearing this future, the teen took over the duty of raising a child by himself. Is no secret that the girl considers the brother as a father, showing this trust by only speaking next to him, as she craves the safety and reassurance that comes with the elder Uzume presence, and he never hide this honor that it feels to be someone comfort person.

The father, a charming Chinese men in his late forties approaches. Yi Han stands out thanks to the glorious dark hair brushed in a classic and refined hairstyle, a well chosen dark blue suit and the silk skin, leaving no space to comments about flaws, while the fellow scientists worries about work, the men prioritize the physical appearance over looking clever all the time.

How the men ignores the younger child enkindles rage within Mafuyu, ``A parent should always know where his children are``, yet the youngest replies with silence, non concern to hid the scorn growing towards the men. The siblings carries on their moment, Yi takes that as a defeat, looking over the future of the family, wondering if the methods of raising they are valid, or just a cruel way to treat an eleven year old child, a sensation of shame overcomes the men smooth persona, choosing to step away before any flaw can be shown in front of others.

The father-daughter relationship had been damaged years ago, as Yi Han refused to believed about the sight and her decision of no longer wanting to pretend to be a boy, claiming that such important decision should've been delayed due to insufficient age, blaming Mafuyu influence and the heat of the moment, the lack of support pushed her away from the him, hurt beyond word. With the head of Saga paying for everything, and how the brother hold her hand at every second, Miyako went forward with the new life, going through treatment and last year a surgery to end the circle, mistaking the corporation gesture for kindness, yet the goal strayed from that good, a way to keep the child under their wings and docile, a solution to make sure that she couldn't leave the shelter or abandoned the cause, to enhanced their trust further, the pharmaceutical company developed a tiny device into a specific area of the body, assuring that the technology would avoid the necessity of daily hormones pills. A factor that seal a bound between the girl and the company, seeing the CEO as a hero of some sort, someone that aid in the most dire moment, able to enjoy life as Miyako, a name picked by the brother. The solo demand made by the company happened to be a small thing, cooperation, and nothing more. A contract signed by the child to assist in a project to adapt the sight to soldiers, so they could hijack into infected minds and gain upper hand, despite believing in this supernatural gift, the head scientist cared not to make it a project, using it as a mere mean to an end.

One would think that the end of the world could bring people together, but it didn't, the mother spend most of the days working in the dream of manufacturing a vaccine, or at least something to retard the effect of the virus, while Yi Han makes sure that the shelter geothermal power plant remains in working order. Mafuyu takes the promise to an honorable level, even joining her in classes about electronics, mechanics, medicine and biology, subjects from the new educational system, a way to create a better future, so the new generation can grow knowing the most important lessons instead of dwelling in past history or unnecessary mathematics. Despite finding those five hours boring, she cherishes every second of it, as what follows it in the schedule its never pleasant.

When the experiment time begins, Mafuyu has to leave, not a single test is harmless, each holding their own amount of pain or discomfort. Recalling about yesterday, the scientist attempted to created a theory about how the brain connect itself with the sight, looking for a logical way to explain the ability of seeing through others eyes. A thin and silver needle penetrate through the lower eye until it reached the brain, the whole procedure took place under heavy anesthesia, yet the pain grew harder to withstand afterward, worse that an emotional hollowness, a feeling that shocked through the brain and the nervous system.

However, a worst one exist, The Helmet, or so she calls it, a metal device is introduced on the head, then electrical stimulus are send to the brain, a way to improve her eyes and recover a tiny fraction of the natural sight, it makes the body fake a scenario where each centimter of skin melts, every cell and fiber deteriorates, reaching an astonishing level of fading, only to be wake by the same pain, left with no choice, but to endure it the most brutal five minutes of the day, it happened several times, and it can't seen to get better anytime soon. The shock waves suffering is staggering, yet she judges as a necessary evil, willing to make this sacrifice, blind by manipulation and scared of the chance of Saga sending the family away from the shelter, not willed to put Mafuyu into harm ways, or to sacrifice the parents career.

Using the girl lack of direction and the endless search for a purpose to created a perfect harmony, as Miyako feels like a sheep in a forest full of werewolves, a part of her believes that the suffering can be justify, and the other she deserves the pain coming from those test.

Regardless of the brother encouragement words, remanding how important her life is, the child refuses to see in the same way, seeing herself as a pillar, holding back the corruption from crumbling under the one she loves, willing to continue with the penitence, just for a small glance of a better tomorrow.

[sleepy-achilles]

Here's a prompt for you from Instagram:

I wanna run away with you, where there is only you and me.

Can't lie just spent 30 minutes searching my whole house for my phone only to find out my dog knocked it off my bed and under the dogs bed that's under my gaming chair. I have no clue what my idea was now. But imma give it a shot. Hope you wanted hbtaker

Hbtaker- You and I

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Shawn couldn't smile. Even if he had a reason he couldn't. He never felt so alone and yet he was surrounded by friends.

He rests his chin on his knees as he watches Paul bark orders at taker. His heart aches for the man. He wishes he could take him away from it all.

"Michaels" a voice calls. Shawn glances to see the harts. He sighs and lets his shoulders deflate. "What bret?" Shawn whispers. "Aw what's wrong? Vinnie not treating you like royalty?" Bret smirks pushing Shawn lightly. Shawn let's his feet hit the floor and he glares at bret. "Not in the mood" he mutters. "Jesus michaels we can see that" davey huffs. "Its because he's gotta lose to me tonight" bret chuckles. Shawn stands. "Gotta put the small talent over now don't we?" Shawn asks. And it's the wrong thing to say as he's suddenly slammed against the locker.

And well, Shawn feels nothing, even as he stares into brets cold eyes. They used to be warm towards him..now? Now they are just cold and angry. "Gonna hit me?" Shawn asks quietly as his hands go limp at his side and brets grip tightens on his collar. Bret just examines his face before shoving him against the locker and stepping back. "Not without a camera" bret mutters before nodding at the others. Shawn watches as they walk off.

He turns his gaze to see taker watching him. They don't need words, just eye contact.

Talk?

Normal spot

"You good Shawn?" Kevin asks. "Goldust just tol-shawn?" Kevin watches as the blonde walks out. He then watches as Taker brushes off Paul and leaves. "Right." Kevin huffs before moving towards his bag.

-

Shawn hugs his arms as he sways. "You alright?" Taker asks walking into the run down lockeroom. Vince has been on about for months how they'll fix it up. They haven't. It became Taker and shawns meeting spot.

"How can you be happy with him?" Shawn asks looking at him. "Im not." Taker shrugs. Shawn frowns and looks down. "I wanna run away with you." Shawn whispers. Taker looks st him shocked. "Where there is only you and me" shawns voice cracks. Taker pulls him into a hug. "One day darlin. One day" Taker promises.

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-A FEW YEARS LATER-

Shawn frowns at his feet. He hasn't felt like this in a few years. He smiles this time though, especially as boots appear in his view. He looks up to see his lover. "I keep my promises darling" Taker whispers holding out a envelope. Shawn raises an eyebrow as he accepts it. He opens it and pulls out two plane tickets. "Holy shit, to Paris?" Shawn asks standing up. "Shh.." Taker shushes as a group of stars walk past them. Shawns eyes widen. "You haven't cleared it with vince?" Shawn asks quietly. "You said you wanted to run away. I can't take his shit at the moment Shawn and I know you can't. So let's go" Taker answers.

Shawn looks down at the tickets. "How much trouble will we get into?" Shawn asks quietly. "Trust me. A fine at best. He's got neither of in any big storyline. You haven't been on TV in weeks, neither have I. It'll be fine. Now cmon" Taker tells him. Shawns smile widens. "Yeah, let's go" Shawn nods grabbing his bag. "Glad you agree" Taker chuckles grabbing shawns hand and pulling him out.

----------

"Wheres Shawn and Undertaker!" Vince barks as he walks into the lockeroom. "They haven't showed up? They were here yesterday" Goldust asks shocked. Hunter stands up and looks at Kevin. "They haven't phoned?" Kevin asks. "No and from your reaction, why would they be together?" Vince asks. Everyone looks at kevin. "I..I didn't mean they were I just meant neither of them have phoned?" Kevin tries. "What has your rat done with my boy!" Paul yells. "Oi! Any more of that and I'll put you in the ground" Kevin growls jerking forward, Scott holds him back. "I see the way they look at each other! He's corrupted my boy!" Paul yells. "If anyone's corrupted anyone it's taker!" Hunter barks. "Enough! We have two missing stars. Two missing famous people! Anything could have happened to them!" Vince yells.

They all fall silent as it hits them.

"Ill call Shawn." Kevin mutters walking off.

---------------

Taker smiles from the balcony, enjoying the way Shawn rolls onto his stomach, the way the thin sheets shift down his tan back to rest on his lower back. His phone buzzing against the bedside table. "This was a beautiful idea" Shawn yawns. "It sure was" Taker mutters walking towards the bed. "Only you and i" Taker whispers sitting on the edge of the bed. Shawn looks at him and smiles. "You and I" Shawn nods leaning up. Taker cups his face. "Its nice to see you happy again." Taker mutters before kissing him. Shawn chuckles against takers lips. "You make me happy." Shawn states laying back down.

Taker chuckles as shawns stomach growls. "Food also makes you happy. I'll order, you should answer that" Taker tells him as the phone buzzes. "Its either vinnie so he can yell at me or kev so he can yell at me that vince yelled at him and go all momma bear on me." Shawn stretches. "He worries. Answer it or no crossiants" Taker warns moving to the room service phone. Shawn rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone, rolling onto his back. A quick text will do.

'I'm okay big guy. Me and taker decided to run away, tell vinnie we will be back in time for him to finally give us a storyline. Lots of love S'

He throws his phone onto the ground.

"Didnt sound like a call" Taker teases. "A text. I'll send him a postcard to back it" Shawn smirks as his lover walks over. "Reckon we'll still have a job?" Shawn asks as he pulls taker onto the bed. "Who cares? I can take care of us" Taker mutters before kissing shawns neck. Shawn giggles and runs his fingers through takers hair. "I know you can. I know you will." Shawn whispers cupping takers face and making him look at him. Taker smiles at him. "I love you shawn" he whispers. "I love too" Shawn smiles.

"You and I forever" Shawn whispers.

"Forever"

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NOTES

I'm sorry its 1:40am and I'm in the process of rewatching ncis and well I've just got past swakt and onto the season 3.

I'm a wreck to be said.

The fact they had Tony in life or death danger and the cait...my top two..I cannot

Anyways.

I hope this is what you wanted.

Feel free to..idk I'm tired. If its not I can rewrite it, yk the drill, I hate my writing because I think it's bad and everyone loves it lol.