#not even counting all of the shaping I haven't done on the rest of this cave

[rubyin-wonderland]

Sleepless Nights

opla!Zoro x gn!reader

Summary: due to your anxiety, you haven't been sleeping that well. Or at all. Someone needs to step in.

WC: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: anxiety, insomnia, overworking yourself, breaking down, there's fluff in here I swear, hurt/comfort written by someone who's never been comforted or knows how to comfort so we'll see

It was a sunny day. Perfect for any arrangement of fun activities or entertainment. And yet, on your ship, neither of those were to be found.

The crew stood on the deck, watching as you paced back and forth across the length of the deck, mumbling something incoherent to yourself.

"When did they last sleep?" Nami asked, peeking over at Zoro, who stood up straight, arms crossed and brow furrowed at your display. He was more tense than usual. "Few days. Unless you count napping at a desk for a few minutes as sleep." "I don't."

You had been really nervous lately. The ship was rapidly approaching the Grand Line and the air was lit with nerves. Both of excitement and anxiety.

The anxiety was primarily yours. For the past week you had taken it upon yourself to keep everything ship shape. There was one problem with this, that being that you were not comforted by completing your self-appointed list of tasks.

On the contrary. As days passed by, you grew more and more agitated, your anxiety building instead of settling. When you weren't hidden away in your room, writing yet another list or searching through your small library of informational books or doing menial tasks all over the boat, you were doing what you did now, pacing along the deck until inspiration struck and you would go back to your room, mumbling to yourself all the way.

The crew had done their best in terms of trying to calm you down. They invited you to participate in small activities with them, hoping you would relax enough to let go of your stress, but that rarely, if ever, worked.

Zoro took responsibility when you got too bad, stepping in when you broke down, helping you as best he could until you had calmed down enough to be stable, but you never relaxed past that. The anxiety never left you. Never completely.

At one point, you had gotten so worked up over Sanji's meal plan that you had holed yourself up deep in the belly of the ship, crying in between boxes of unknown things. You made a mental note to run inventory on them, which only made you feel worse.

After sobbing your eyes out, you returned to the world above the waterline and complained about the situation to Zoro, who comforted you as best he could before going to argue with Sanji about the meal plan and how you were handling everything.

The argument was bad, but you spent the most of it inside your room, as you read about the probability of a tornado encountering your ship while you travelled.

That night had been difficult for everyone, trying to keep Sanji and Zoro from attacking each other while also making sure you stayed fed and in the best mood you could possibly be, the bar for which was getting lower and lower as the days passed by.

That was the first night you didn't sleep. You told Zoro to sleep off his anger and you would join him, but while he did follow your orders, you disobeyed yourself and stayed up all night.

You hadn't slept since. They had all tried to convince you to sleep, but all manners of convincing and pleading with you were unsuccessful.

You would eat at meals and spend time with the crew when requested, but nobody knew how to get you to sleep.

Not even Zoro, your beloved nap addict, was able to pull you down. He had tried. He had tried so hard, but you tried harder.

His naps had felt unsatisfactory without you leaning on him while he rested. He was missing your presence and he was feeling it.

He would ask for you to nap with him, but you would brush him aside, and he was not the type to beg you to sleep with him, so he let you go. At first.

Sleeping at night was a different story. He would ask you to join him and you would do one of two things.

The first option was saying yes and crawling into bed with him, allowing him to pull you close in some futile attempt at falling asleep, but it never took, and you would just break out of his grasp once he had fallen asleep, returning to your work.

The other was telling him you would be there in "just a minute", promising both him and yourself that you would be there soon, but there was always something that took your attention. One more task, one last note. Until the morning came and Zoro woke up alone in your bed.

He would try to lure you in, napping close to you. Before everything went south, you would join him if you ever saw him napping, sliding in next to him, resting your head on his shoulder or draping a lazy arm over his body, tangling yourself with him.

You used to seek eachother out to nap, but since you weren't sleeping, it was just him, by himself, while you worked yourself to death.

Occasionally, your body would force you into sleep, but it never took. Zoro would find you slumped over your desk, unmoving but breathing deeply, and he would hope that he could move you to the bed somehow to get you to sleep but you would soon jolt up, taking in a ragged breath and your brief rest would be over and done with.

You were usually at your desk when it happened, overly tired and overworked. Your head would fall onto your work, and for a few minutes, you would regain miniscule bits of strength to power you for the next little while.

While it happened mostly at your desk, it had happened in other places too, but always while you were sitting down. Never while you were standing and certainly not while you were walking.

However, earlier that day, on your way to the kitchen with Zoro, you had just collapsed. It terrified Zoro to no end, as he watched you fall, carefully watching as your chest rose and fell, indicating that as scary as it had been, you were still alive.

When you woke up as you usually did, you took longer to get up, lethargy taking over. In a few more minutes you were back to being as anxious as ever, but it was this incident that had spurred the crew to watching you pace along the deck.

You made a sudden, sharp turn, going inside, ignoring the stares that followed you in.

"You need to get them to sleep." Nami insisted. "And not just a nap. A full, healthy sleep. This can't possibly be good for them."

"I could make their favourite meal, maybe-" "This isn't about your food, waiter. Butt out." Zoro frowned at Sanji, poison in his gaze. The argument about the meal plan still pretty fresh, and spirits hadn't gotten much better since you stopped sleeping.

"Maybe during the meal we could talk to them about what's going on. Or is that too complex for you?" Sanji asked, hands on his hips.

"Don't forget that you and your stupid meal plan are a part of this problem." Sanji was prepared to shoot back but Zoro cut him off. "Leave it. I can do this."

Zoro followed you as you ducked into your room, sitting down once more in your chair, hunched over your papers, scribbling something down. Over time, your handwriting had deteriorated significantly. Slowly but surely you could see the descent into exhaustion you had gone through. You writing had gone from it's normal script, into chicken scratch, into missing letters and words, into things that looked like words, but the letters were all wrong, leaving you with a pile of nonsense on your desk.

Closing the door behind him, prepared to put an end to this, Zoro approached you.

He was careful to make sure you knew he was there before he spoke. Heavy steps, making sure to lean on the one creaky floorboard.

"Hey." His hand reached out, resting on your desk. You looked up, meeting his eyes. You blinked a few times before you processed who was there with you. A smile spread on your face, in an attempt to convince him that you were fine.

"Oh, hi Zoro." The smile was forced and looked like it took a bit of effort.

"Why don't you take a break from work and sleep a bit?" He suggested casually, hoping you wouldn't catch onto how bad he needed you to go to sleep.

"Why?" You asked, voice soft. The way you spoke the single word had him weak. Even in your exhausted state, you could manage to charm him.

"You haven't slept in days." You looked at him, still smiling. "I'm fine, Zoro." "You fell asleep standing up this morning." "It won't happen again, I've got a handle on it."

"I'm worried about you."

That was one thing guaranteed to make you stop. He didn't like telling you about his emotions. It was always a struggle. So this confession gave you pause.

"Zoro, I'm alright. I promise." "You need to rest."

You sighed, gesturing at the piles of paper scattered across the table. "I still have things to do. I need to plan a schedule for how long we're going to stay at each island, which one we'll reach first so I can see what we're dealing with, I need to make Sanji's grocery list-"

"He can do that himself." Zoro cut in, still angry at the chef for suggesting that his food would help you better than he could.

He kneeled next to your chair, looking up at you, face completely serious.

"Please." He said as earnestly as he could. A cautious hand reached up to rest on your arm. He noted that your skin was ice cold. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't worried for you. One decent sleep is all I want for you."

Your eyes rested on his hand, which held your arm away from your writing. You could feel the warmth emanating from him and resisted the urge to snuggle up against him.

"Zoro, I need to-" "What does this say?" Zoro grabbed one of your messier pages off the desk, showing it to you. The words were messy and barely legible, if they were even words at all. It was a mess of circles, dots and arches, scribbled in wandering lines across the page, making no sense. What words that did exist meant nothing without the context of the words around them.

You moved your hand, taking the page from Zoro's hand, doing your best to read the scribbles, trying to remember what you were even trying to write about.

Your eyes stopped moving after a while and Zoro carefully removed the paper from your grasp, taking it away from your line of sight.

"I messed it up." You whispered, letting your hands fall, eyes beginning to shine with tears. "Oh no." You repeated that phrase over and over, as you glanced at the many many pages sitting on your desk in similar condition.

You pulled your eyes away from the desk, turning to Zoro. You reached out for him, for something, anything to latch on to, hands grasping at his arms. He held on to you, hands on your elbows as you began to cry.

As the tears fell, you could hear Zoro. Under your shaky breaths and sniffles, his voice. Sturdy as a stone wall. Supportive. Protective.

"It's alright. You're okay." He whispered, thumbs gently rubbing up and down the skin of your arms.

You tried to stand, but you fell back into your chair, legs having given out. Zoro lifted you up instead, effortlessly. You let go of his arms and wrapped your limbs around his body, continuing to cry as everything came crashing down around you.

You didn't have much strength left, but what strength you did have was used to keep your arms and legs out of the way, holding him as tight as you could, letting him carry you the two steps to the bed.

You had buried your face in his neck while he sat down, your sobs quieter, but audible right next to his ear.

He leaned back, making sure to get your limbs out from under him, laying down completely. His arms embraced you once more, but this time, he just held you.

In his arms you continued crying, but it was slowing down. As your breathing began to settle, you squeezed him, not easing up. A hiccup escaped your lips and you let out another shuddering breath.

"You didn't mess anything up. Zoro reassured from under you. "You did everything right."

You sat in silence and he held you as you relaxed. You were cold in his arms, but he just reminded himself that to you, he was warm.

He felt you soften around him, it was like you were melting into him, your muscles loosening, until you were just splayed out across him like a strange blanket.

He didn't care. He had no mind for how you were to fall asleep, just that you had to do it. He would suffer through anything as long as you got your sleep. He was not unfamiliar with being kicked late in the night, but he was ready to shoulder that burden too. He could suffer any arrangement of bruises in order to see that you had a good sleep.

Now that he had finally gotten you into the bed, he wasn't going to let you leave. You would not wiggle out to return to your work. He would keep you here. He missed it so much.

"I can't sleep." You confessed to his chest, aware that you falling asleep was the specific reason for this visit. "I close my eyes and it's all nightmares." Zoro looked down at you, still embraced in his arms, the occasional shiver running through your body.

"About what?"

"Getting to the Grand Line and being unprepared. Getting hurt, lost, sick. Dying." Zoro listened attentively as your worries finally escaped from the place where they'd been locked up in your head.

"The Grand Line is dangerous. I know we can handle it, but what if we don't?"

"Look how far we've gotten already. You really think there's something on the Grand Lina that can stop us?"

You let Zoro's words sink in, but still fought back, holding him just a tiny bit tighter. "I almost lost you after the duel with Mihawk." You could see the tip of the scar peeking out of his shirt. A reminder of what you had nearly lost. "And that was just one thing. We all got attacked at Kaya's manor, Nami abandoned us for Arlong, Luffy almost drowned while you were unconscious and if it weren't for Sanji, I have to think at least one of you would've died there."

You noticed a shift in Zoro's grip when you say Sanji's name. "We've been in trouble before, but we survived." He insisted. "We've been lucky. We were lucky to have Usopp run to tell the people about Kuro, we were lucky to have Sanji and Zeff to save Luffy and you at Baratie."

"Then we're really lucky to have you to keep us organized. Keep us grounded. We'll survive the Grand Line, because I'm not dying until I become the greatest swordsman in the world, and I haven't done that yet."

You wanted to say more, to go on about the many things that could happen to you as you traveled, but your body was completely exhausted. You were so tired.

And so, you shifted in place, making yourself comfortable in bed, still held within Zoro's arms, moving downwards to lay your head on his chest. He moved in turn, sitting up against your pillows, readjusting his arms and pulling a blanket up and over you.

"Get some sleep." He whispered gently, trying not to rouse you too much. "Please."

This time, you didn't protest. There was no last excuse or question as to why he would ask you to do such a silly thing as getting some rest. There was just peace. There was just you, sinking deeper into his arms, breaths becoming slower and slower.

Within a minute of sitting silently encased in Zoro's grasp, you had fallen asleep. Zoro only moved once, to pull the blanket up a little higher. Zoro was ready to drift off himself, having missed sleeping with you close to him, but just as his eyes drifted shut, he heard the door squeak.

His eyes shit to the door, an intense glare on his face as the eyes of his crew peeked in to make sure everything was alright.

He briefly looked down to make sure you were undisturbed before returning to glaring at the eyes peeking through the door, a warning that if any of them woke you up, he was prepared to raise hell.

The door squeaked shut and closed with a click, the sound of whispers from outside. You remained sleeping, undisturbed by the sounds that Zoro had been worried about.

You were breathing deeply, a soft snore rising from your lips. You didn't move much, unexpectedly, your dead weight just resting on Zoro's body. He looked past it, glad he had taken his belt off beforehand so that his swords didn't dig into you while you slept.

Under normal circumstances he would've fallen asleep with you, but because of how badly you needed this, he stayed alert. You needed this sleep and he was going to let you have it, even if it meant staying awake while you slept so comfortably on top of him.

He didn't keep track of time, just letting it pass, every second being just that small amount of rest you deserved for working so hard and caring so much.

On his chest, you moved, finally spurred to action, twisting your head in the other direction, pressing a cold cheek to his chest as the rest of your body shifted as well.

Zoro remained still. You needed a place to rest and he could be that for you. He would be that for you.

You had done so much for the crew already, working yourself so hard. He wished he had stepped in sooner, after two nights without you at his side or the first time you had drifted off at your desk and woke up even more confused and disoriented than before.

He stayed still, almost like a statue, the only movement being that of his breathing, which was beginning to line up with yours.

He wasn't even conscious of when he began to draw circles on your shoulder.

You used to do it with him when he was almost asleep, running the tips of your fingers across his skin, the gentle touch soothing and sweet. He liked it, and he hoped you did too.

His mimicry surely wasn't as good as yours, but he traced the circles anyway, tracing his masterpiece through the fabric of your shirt.

He hoped that if you weren't in a deep, dreamless sleep, that you were at least dreaming of good things. Of adventure and happiness and love, not of your struggles or your anxieties about the future. He hoped the nightmares were gone and that you didn't have to worry about what was to happen.

He hoped you knew that you weren't fighting your battles alone. He had your back. The crew had your back. They would be okay even if you didn't plan every single thing out to the very last, intricate detail. That you were allowed to calm down, take breaks, and let people take care of themselves.

"I love you." He whispered to your sleeping form.

He wasn't one for heartfelt declarations like that. He had said it before, and the truth of the statement rang true every day he spent by your side, but to hear it out loud was a rarity. You both knew the statement was true, and that was enough.

He said it now. And he would say it again when you woke up. And he would say it again any time you needed to hear it. He would say it a million times as long as you knew it was true. That he loved you.

You didn't respond, he didn't even know if you would be able to hear it, but a tiny smile curved up at the corners of your lips, ever so slight, and yet it was wonderful. He smiled back, just as sweetly as you had done it.

He wasn't sure if you had heard him speak, or if you had just dreamt up something really nice, or even just felt the rumbles of his voice in his chest, but no matter what, he wouldn't mind having to say it again when you woke up.

[medicinemane]

.

[g0niki]

taste tester── y.jw p.js

pairing: bf!jungwon x reader x jay

word count: 1.9k

contents: no protection (wrap it up 😓), oral (m&f receiving), light pussy slapping, finger sucking, slight exhibitionism, light size kink, jw is a little mean🫶

a/n: I haven't written in a long time and quite literally wrote this at 3am, feedback and comments would be appreciated! i am very nervous to post this.

jungwon had jokingly mentioned having a threesome with jay on multiple occasions before, and every time without fail you had said no… but at this moment you were reconsidering.

jay's in the kitchen cooking up something for you and won since you're the only ones home at the moment, won showering and leaving you to watch jay with a focused pout resting on his face as he cuts up the meat and throws it to a bowl on the side. 

you never really understood what your boyfriend saw in jay, sure they were close but he wasn’t all that... 

ok, jay was all that, he is all that. the way his hands moved as he worked on the meal was making you feel some kind of way, your thighs slightly rubbing under the table imagining him holding you down so firmly and having you squirming... so maybe you wanted jay to join... just once though!

you wouldn't even have to tell won, coming out of the bathroom hair wet and clothes hanging off his body loosely, jungwon isn't an idiot,

jungwon can immediately tell just what you're thinking by observing you from afar, knowing that you're having conflicting thoughts at the moment, he'd come up from behind you and wrap his arms around you, kissing your neck and speaking into it 

"feeling hungry pretty?"

the pet name alone was enough to let you know exactly where his mind is, gulping down at his tone. he'd place one last kiss on your throat, sitting down next to you and lightly patting his lap, definitely up to no good. 

"cmere I’m cold" he'd use a pouty voice,, to anyone else it would seem like he's being his usual clingy self but this alone was enough to make your mouth dry. you could never say no to sitting on your boyfriend’s lap though, immediately scooting over and sitting on top of him, he'd wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder, pulling you back against him.

"look pretty, isn't jay hyung so nice to us" oh you were fucked "should we watch him cook?"

won pushing your hair behind your ear and lightly biting on it causing you to push your hips back on him.

"be quiet, wouldn’t wanna break his focus" You can hear the fake pout in his voice, feeling his hands massage your thighs as he now kisses your shoulder, letting his tongue trace against the bare skin and lightly sucking now and then.

"look at him, trying to do us a favor yet all you can do is squeeze your pretty little thighs shut and stare. it's rude to not help."

you wanted to bang your head on the table in front of you,, won being so close to touching you over your shorts yet continuously teasing you right behind jay's back. 

"jay's missing out on the best entrée right here." finally, won's hand is lightly tracing your clit. your thighs squeezing around his hand desperately and a small sound leaving your throat, his glancing over his shoulder to check on you.

"sorry.. hit my knee"

"be careful,, dinners almost done"

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

needless to say, that was the quietest dinner you had ever experienced, thighs sticking together as you picked at your plate. jay watching you with an eyebrow arched up, he knew you were picky but you usually loved it whenever he cooked.

"something wrong?" 

his voice slightly makes you jump, unable to even look at him in the moment.

"yeah, what's wrong pretty?"

and of course, jungwon had to play dumb, you could see the smile he was biting back and as much as you wanted to be upset with him he was so badly turning you on.

"nothing just-" and before you could finish your sentence won's hand is back against your thigh, tracing shapes against it "nothing." 

jay leaves it at that.. picking up his plate and walking over to the sink still just as confused as a moment ago but not willing to press any further.

"actually, y/n had a question for you hyung!"

you had never wanted to strangle your boyfriend more than right now.

watching as jay turned around and fondly stared at the two of you.

"yeah, what's up?"

you were out of words, staring with your mouth open not able to play off the situation.

"tell him, baby, you know what we talked about, ask him."

jungwon pushed you closer to the topic, a smile on his face as his hand continued to brush against your thigh, usually, this would be comforting but in this moment your heart was sinking, and you were throbbing.

“y/n, you can ask me anything you know"

and hearing jay be so ready to cater to you was almost enough to get a sob to leave the back of your throat.

"ask him pretty, or i will." the small smile on won's face was enough to send shivers down your spine, goosebumps coming up all over.

"jay... would you want to help us out.." and gosh you felt like you could hear your voice quivering as you asked, you had never been more nervous than right now. 

"... with?"

"don't play dumb hyung. I can see you holding back right now."

your stomach sank. won definitely knew a lot more than he let on, you had never heard him be so harsh towards jay before and it was leaving you soaking. 

"just look at her hyung, look at how she needs you, how badly she wants us."

hearing won talk about you like you weren't even there was honestly a bit overwhelming, you could feel your face and ears getting how wanting to do nothing but hide behind your hands and forget this was even happening. 

"let her say it won, talk to me y/n."

you were going to have to swallow your pride for this one…

"could you fuck me.."

"look at me when you're talking. ask again."

"could you fuck me." and that was all the two of them needed to hear. 

within minutes they had you back in the room, clothes nowhere to be found as you were pressed up between the two of them.

"isn't she so pretty hyung,"

won was behind you holding your legs open and letting jay enjoy the view, jay twisting your nipples and watching how the light touch caused the puddle between your legs to grow even more.

"you weren't kidding when you said she was sensitive."  

hearing the brief mention that jungwon had discussed you with jay before sending your mind into a spiral. laying back as won moved from behind you and onto the chair next to the bed. 

"why don't you put it in hyung, i wanna watch."

you'd never seen won like this before, he looked almost ravenous, his mouth almost watering as he watched. you couldn't take your eyes off of him, taken aback by his current state.

"you too pretty, watch while he puts it in." 

won's hand coming behind your head and forcing you to look down on yourself. jay lining up with your folds and cursing out above you.

"she looks so small, you sure she can take it?"

"even if she can't she will."

and that was enough for jay to push into you, the slight stretch making you bite down on your lip, he wasn't very different from won in size but he was thicker. won's hand holding your own as you both watched jay sink inside you.

"look at that pretty," and god did jay feel good inside you. his hands gripping your hips tightly and pushing them down into the mattress as he took a deep breath.

Won” fuck i'm gonna break her won." 

"do it, she likes it" 

won gently pushing your hair out of your face, moving around so that he was now above your head. 

"don't you pretty?"

you had your eyes pressed together tightly, entirely overwhelmed by everything, and won's dick standing above your head was not helping in any sort of way. 

"you think you could multi-task.”

you couldn’t even answer at this point, jay roughly thrusting into you and using you like a toy, rambling on about how good you feel and he could've never imagined being able to be inside you.

won now holding both your wrists and watching as jay pounded into you, your release dripping all around him and your back fighting to arch against jay's push on your hips.

"pretty open for me before i make him stop."

the idea of jay stopping now was enough to make you sob, jaw immediately falling slack for won. 

"there we go,"

won immediately filling your throat and admiring the slight bulge he made in your throat.

"look hyung, everything about her is just sooo small" jay reached up to trace the bump in your throat causing you to clench around him.

"fuck don't do that i'll cum" jay moved his hand from your neck to slap down on your clit and making your body jolt. won hadn't done that before but you'd be asking him to do it again.

won wrapping his hands around your throat and fucking into you is all too much, you rapidly clenched around jay cumming for who knows what time and causing jay to fill you up with no warning.

"shit, my bad-"

jay pulled out watching his fluid seep out, using his fingers to scoop some up and bring it to his lips.

"fuck won you've gotta taste this."

won pulled out leaving you to whine,  but you quickly shut up after seeing him take jay's two fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste of the two of you.

"fuck, it’s missing something.” 

won immediately moving to take jay's previous spot between your legs and quickly shoving himself into you, not taking your sensitivity into mind, his only objective being to fill you up even more. 

jay moved down to your stomach and worked his way up, finding his nipple in your mouth and sucking around it while his right hand fondled the other.

you could’ve sworn won was using all his strength on you, your body bouncing up and down as you tried to take even just a second to breathe, fighting to not scream. your hand coming up to jay's head and pulling onto his hair causing him to bite down on your tit.

"be nice,” he growled between his teeth.

jay pulls back to admire his work and watches jungwon finish the two of you off, taking himself into his hand in hopes of finishing himself off another time. 

"jay you better hurry up because i'm almost done."

won bringing his hand down to play with your clit in hopes of finishing you off alongside him, his thrust getting shallow and sporadic yet doing just enough to have you spilling around him, the noises leaving your throat being enough for jay to finish all over your abdomen and won filling you up nicely.

won pulling out slowly trying not to overstimulate you even more than you already are, lowering his face down to your cunt and licking up as much as he can.

he pulls you into a kiss, swapping the fluid between your mouths as jay watches with his jaw agape. 

pulling apart breathless 

"mm, tastes much better."

ᯓ★

@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.

[malleleothreesome]

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand. 

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property. 

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic? 

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater. 

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous. 

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air. 

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this. 

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest. 

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined. 

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor. 

Fellow feels his pants tighten. 

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will. 

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show. 

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks. 

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful. 

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream. 

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes. 

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates. 

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront. 

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll." 

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours." 

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[sister-of-hitoshi]

IM BACK AGAIN BUT WITH OUT THE COVER OF AN ANON!!! Can I get another Mr. Villain x reader? This time can I pleaseee have the reader be a baker? Making him cute lil cupcakes with panda faces!!!!

To my loveliest @crystalmonk5579 of course!!! Thanks a lot for coming again and requesting ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ <33 I can only hope that I didn't disappoint, sorry for the delay (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Sending you love!

Adultered Confections

Genre: Fluff

Anime: Mr Villain's Day off

Character: Warumono-san/ Mr Villain

Word count: 1k+

Note: That gif is literally just him coming to terms with his new-found feelings sensations 😭

"Ahhh~ look at that cloud, it looks just like his fluffy hair"

You sigh, your consciousness floating in a happy dream before the ding of the oven jolted you up from your slumber, starting a chain reaction which finally ended up with a bag of flour all over you.

"Why do all my dreams always end up like this! Ugh." You exasperatedly made your way to the oven while patting your face to take out the cupcakes. This was your new recipe, and you wanted it to be a hit. Although a small batch among them was way more special than the rest.

They were the panda themed cupcakes for your crush.

"I know I currently look bad but all this pain would be so worth it if only he was here to comfort me and pat all this flour off" You animatedly nodded to yourself, satisfied with your own reasoning while being completely ignorant to the jingle of the shop door-bell.

A pat on your back and you screamed- almost.

Turning around you were met face to face with the guy-of-your-dreams. He first stared at you, and then stared at his fingers covered with flour.

"Would you like me to help you in some way?"

He was a kind man, the kindest you've ever met, and extraordinarily handsome on top of that.

"Pat all this flour off of me!!-" Wait wait- that came out without much thought!!- "-....please?"

How could I be so bold??! You internally screamed. You were about to immediately correct your 'mistake' when he took out his handkerchief.

"Excuse me then" he said, and started patting your face.

You immediately closed your eyes shut, only taking small peeks at him out of embarrassment. You would be lying if you didn't admit to feeling heartbroken at his lack of reaction.

But well that's just who he was. A calm and composed man.

Surely girls would be throwing themselves at him. You haven't even been able to express your interest in him properly except for well- giving him freebies everytime he came regardless of whether he bought something or not, always make light talk with him to know about his interests and days, chalking out his day-off routine using all the "classified information" - things he tells you about himself, pack extra sweets, keep your shop open longer on particular days of his visit and also-

Yeah, you get it.

I'm a rock- I'm a r.o.c.k

You continued to chant your newfound mantra in your head until he was done with dusting patting flour off of you. You opened your eyes and thanked him shyly, promising to repay his kindness. But of course, you being a blind, non-living rock, failed to notice his blushing eartips.

All the while he was busy doing his job of cleaning you and staring at your face a little bit more than that his ears had felt a bit warm, his heart had felt warmer, and he had this tingling sensation in his stomach. It had actually been quite a few times when he has felt this sort of unfamiliar sensation now, but today it felt more intense.

"So, how did you land up like this?"

He asked, tilting his head. So adorable-

"Well I was making these cup- OHH!!"

"Please wait it's a surprise for you!-" Without waiting for a reply, you swiftly turned around, ready to dash towards the oven when your head hit a nearby rack which somehow caused a box of wooden spatulas of varied shapes to fall on your head somehow, which triggered another chain reaction somehow which again ended up with a bag of flour all over you. Really, again.

"....I really really can't believe my luck!!!"

You exclaimed exasperatedly, looking down at your feet. That's it I look like a fool in front of him I'm so so embarrassed let me just dig up a hole and bury myself there maybe even do-

"Pfft-"

You looked up at him and caught him smiling down at you. You were blessed with his laugh, okay time for me to be in heaven now which he was trying so hard to hold in.

His mind only repeated one word to him, over and over again. Cute.

Cute cute cute cute cute-

"Um... I know it's really weird that I'm like this- I mean would you mind doing it no- no- I'm sorry-" you were trying to find the best words that would fit your current situation while grabbing at your work uniform by it's hem and blushing, when his actions stopped you from rambling further. He had again started to clean you up with another handkerchief now, all the while smiling at you.

For some reason, even my neck feels very tingly now.

Wait- he always felt this way when he was with you...had you mixed something in your confectionery?!

He was almost going to become very serious about this situation and ask you about the ingredients. But then you looked up at him and smiled-

He lost all his composure. He could do nothing except for continuing to stare at you and reply with a robotic 'welcome'.

"Umm then... Would you like to come with me over here? I really doubt my luck right now so.."

"Sure thing" He smiled and complied, now standing beside you while you took out whatever you had baked for the day.

But then you suddenly grabbed his hands to save yourself from tripping.

His entire being went on high alert as he swiftly positioned himself behind you, your back being supported by his broad chest. His ears were completely red now.

"T-that was close!!" You shouted out, completely flustered. You were feeling perturbed now, anything could happen to you and your cupcakes with this dull luck of yours. Both his hands were supporting your shoulders now to help you stabilize, so taking this as an opportunity, you nudged the tray towards him without turning around.

Here goes nothing-

"Panda themed cupcakes for my most cherished customer and special person.... Hope you l-like them."

"Is this a gift?"

"Yes, of course, now hurry up and take it!"

He continued to stare at them for a few seconds, before taking one in his hand, all the while the other one holding your shoulder continued to tremble.

What is this texture?!!

He studied the cupcake, like it was some state-of-the-art sculpture. The texture of the panda cupcake was so fluffy, it looked so soft, it gazed at him so lovingly his sense of guilt almost compelled him to say no-

You had turned around.

Your eyes met his.

Your eyes

He immediately stuffed his face with two cupcakes.

The taste was so blissful he imagined himself being hugged by soft giant pandas... and you?

You were there hugging him?

He immediately snapped out of his blissful trance, your voice calling out to him very sweetly, asking him if he liked it, telling him that it was a special recipe for him and him only.

"Oh..."

He squeezed his coat fabric.

This feeling....it had nothing to do with the ingredients used. It was the baker, you, all along.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

what would carmy do for y/n’s birthday??

*doesn’t have to pertain to the series you wrote for him

Birthday girl

Oh, he would go all out. I just think he would be so excited to treat you like a queen. Because you usually grumble about him getting you things or paying for your stuff. So this is his time to shine and, believe me, my boy is not holding back.

He wakes up at like 3 am. Kisses your forehead a couple of times before carefully slipping out of bed. Even if he would love nothing more but to hold you for the rest of the night. After closing the door to the bedroom he quickly throws on a pair of joggers before walking to his car to pick up all the goodies he had stashed there so you wouldn't see them.

Carmen starts blowing up balloons in your favorite colors, hanging and throwing them all around the apartment. Hanging up a garland that says happy birthday, boo. Moving to scatter the fake light candles too - safety first. Then comes the flowers and honestly trust him to know your favorite ones and it's not just one bouquet. Oh, no, you no longer have free vases when he's done putting them all around. He moves to frosting your birthday cake, that he had made a night before. It's heart-shaped because you are his heart and he loves you, and he loves being this cliche with you. The last addition would be him blowing up those helium balloons and sticking pictures of you two to the strings and he's quietly bringing them into the bedroom and placing them all around the bed.

When the time hits about 9 am he would slowly wake you up with soft kisses. No rush. But he also can't hold himself back from kissing you all over. And man, he's tired and would love to nap but the desire to watch you see all that he has done is way beyond that. You blink a couple of times, a lazy smile on your face as you nuzzle into Carmen. "Morning, birthday girl", he says quietly and you finally open your eyes to look at him. Just your attention is stolen by the pastel color balloons and the pictures. You let out a gasp, "Did you... did you do this?", you sit up, covering your naked body with the sheets as you reach for the string closest to you. Carmen only hums, fingers brushing against your naked skin. "Am I still dreaming or...", you rub your eyes, trying to shake the sleep away. "No, my lungs went through that", Carmen jokes, this happy fluster taking over his lower belly.

"That's us in Italy", you mutter reaching for another picture, biting your lip as your eyes get hazy. You turn to your boyfriend biting your lip so you wouldn't start sobbing. "Oh, love", he breathes out sitting up properly so he could wrap you up in his arms. "You're so freaking sweet", you inhale sharply, "When did you do this?", "While you slept", and suddenly his messy hair and tired eyes make so much sense. "Carmen...", you breathe out, "You didn't have to lose sleep over this". Leaning closer you brush your lips over his a couple of times and Carmen returns the gesture eagerly, "Well, I wanted to. Now put my shirt on, this is not everything".

You give him a confused look, "But I haven't even looked through all the pictures", you say, reaching for another string. "You'll do that later. Now close your eyes", You barely managed to pull his hoodie over your body before he gently pressed his palm over your eyes as he led you out into the living room. "Berzatto, what have you been up to?", you ask him, sensing the freshly baked pastries and a whole English breakfast. But he says nothing only counts to three and drops his palm. And there, right in front of you is everything that he's been crafting for hours prior. A cake on a table that's surrounded by presents and cards. Balloons. Flowers. A record player that's very softly played an old cover of Happy Birthday.

Your hand clasps your mouth. You just stand there. Looking at it all. And for a moment Carmen starts getting worried. Maybe you hate it? Maybe he got your favorite flowers wrong? Is it the cake? Did he do too much? Too little? But then you practically launch into him as a sob slips past your lips. "Carm", you breathe out, hiccuping. "Baby, you're not supposed to be crying, now", Carmen mutters, trying to see your face. "But... this is so... no one has ever done something like this", you say through the tears as you hug him as tightly as you possibly can. Carmen lets out a relieved chuckle, reaching for your thighs so he can lift you. You don't protest as you wrap your legs around his torso.

"You're out of your mind", you breathe out into the crook of his neck. "Only the best for my girl", Carmen states proudly, "You want to look through all of it?" But you just cling to him tighter. Still in absolute shock and disbelief. Yet full of so much love. "You're the best", you pull away cupping his face. Carmen only smiles at you, "You deserve to be treated like a queen. You're the love of my life". You rest your forehead onto his, "I love you even without all of this, you do know that?", you question, "Bab, I don't doubt it. But it's your birthday and I want to make it special", Carmen nuzzles his nose against yours. "You're still absolutely insane for doing all of this, Berzatto", you sigh looking around.

[voxofthevoid]

Here's Role Reversal Fem!Goyuu Wednesday #6—which I almost forgot about. Well, I forgot it's Wednesday. The abrupt relocation last weekend has fucked my sense of time even more than usual.

I haven't written since then either, though this fic only needs one epilogue-ish chapter to be done; the current word count is 54k.

For now, have a longer version of the DP scene I showed a bit of here! And god, some of the passages in this chapter are fucking long...

“Blood Manipulation,” Satoru whispers, less a revelation than an acknowledgment, and the cock-shaped constructs pressed up against her ass and cunt seems to pulse in answer.

Yuuji herself is silent, but her lower two hands curl around Satoru’s hips, raising them just so off the mattress. The tips of the cocks rub against Satoru, and they feel wet, with a heat that’s like the inside of a body in all the wrong ways, but Satoru can tell they smear nothing on her, even the one prodding her cunt trailing only her own slick along the folds.

They start to slide in.

It feels—

“You look disappointed,” Yuuji says before Satoru can control her face. “Too small?”

Satoru raises herself on her forearms to better see what she’s feeling, and maybe that’s a mistake. The initial shapes Yuuji made of her blood were wetter, more alive replicas of the many toys Satoru’s browsed while picking a few for herself; the things that have slid into Satoru still feel vaguely phallic, but—

“It feels like you’re fucking me with a toothbrush, sensei.” Satoru frowns down at their nearly joined groins for a moment, then amends, “Two toothbrushes.”

“Ah,” Yuuji says delicately. “Let me just—”

Satoru yelps, the walls of her cunt suddenly straining around a pressure that threatens to rip her apart. “Yuuji!”

“Too big, huh,” Yuuji murmurs, frowning down at her now-giant cocks.

Satoru looks too, despite her better judgement, only to flinch at the girth of the thing stuffing her cunt. It’s more forearm than cock. The one in her ass is still a fucking stick, and a part of Satoru is grateful because that would have ripped her apart, but the rest of her is struggling not to clench up everywhere, and when she inevitably fails, the dissonance between the insane girth spreading her pussy and the finger-thin intrusion inside her ass just fills her with an overwhelming sense of rejection, borderline revulsion.

“Take it out,” she grits out. “Fix it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuji says with apparent sincerity. “I’m a little rusty with this.”

“What, you don’t go around fucking people with your blood-dicks?” Satoru asks, trying to focus on the conversation so she won’t fixate on the solid shapes shrinking and shifting inside her, the few inches that were put inside being pulled right out.

“Not really,” Yuuji mutters, the bulk of her attention clearly on the blood. “Sorcerers can get very offended about what they see as the inappropriate use of cursed techniques.”

“I wonder why,” Satoru drawls, now trying to ignore the throbbing emptiness inside.

“The blood too,” Yuuji adds, her primary eyes finally flitting up to Satoru’s face. “It disgusts them. Scares them. But you—you’re not like that, are you, Satoru-chan?”

Despite everything, Satoru has to fight down a shiver. “No, it’s absolutely fucking disgusting.”

Yuuji’s answering smile is too soft to cut into Satoru the way it does, and yet— “But you like it, don’t you?”

Satoru’s face heats like it’s stolen some of Yuuji’s blood. “Shut up!”

Yuuji does shut up, but the next moment, it’s clear where her focus has gone. There’s nothing inside Satoru now, only memory of two very strange intrusions, but she can feel the blood Yuuji’s manipulating, the heat and the wet of it—not quite touching her but scorching her all the same. She drags in a bracing breath and looks down, shivering a little when she finds that the cocks have returned to their initial sizes, and it’s not the monstrosity that had Satoru choking a few moments ago, but she’d still feel these, every fucking inch, and she can almost understand why Yuuji tried to size them down the first time around.

“Do you like them?” Yuuji asks, the kind of question that’s not a question at all. One of her hands slides from Satoru’s hip to her inner thigh, coaxing it further open. Her hips tilt forward, those twin cocks once again prodding Satoru.

Her cunt reminds her of its recent abuse, throbbing like a bruise, but she’s more keenly aware of it clenching and dripping, of Yuuji’s eyes fixed right there. “Sensei, I told you not to—”

“I know,” Yuuji says softly, all of her eyes now pools of liquid dark. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you. You’re a very strong girl, Satoru-chan. I know what you can take.”

It’s sincere praise, and it does fill Satoru with a warmth that brims in her veins and her bones, but it also raises the hairs on her arms, a warning prickle she’s helpless to heed.

She still calls out Yuuji’s name, except it doesn’t quite come out as a protest, and Yuuji doesn’t treat it as one anyway, casually pulling Satoru closer, a hand on her thigh and another on her hip maneuvering her with unfair ease, and then the testing pressure of Yuuji’s cocks are a hell of a lot less tentative, the thick heads pressing into Satoru with unmistakable intent.

Her cunt spreads wetly around it; her ass doesn’t.

It’s open, wet and loose and relaxed from the filthy assault earlier, but even Yuuji’s oversized tongue isn’t the size of the cock trying to pry her open right now, and it just burns, a mounting ache that grows and grows and grows until Satoru’s entire spine is hot with it, arching off the bed with a fury that gets her nowhere, and then it gives, a searing pop that has Satoru shouting and shuddering, and the one in her cunt also slides deeper, like it was only waiting for its filthy friend below. And there’s no real strain there—the cock isn’t much worse than Satoru’s biggest toy, and she’s been leaking like a broken faucet for what feels like hours now—but the entire outside is still one mass of hurt, and the solid heat inside her makes her bruised folds throb even as it soothes the hollow ache inside her.

They’re not all the way in. Satoru’s eyes are closed, not something she remembers doing, but she can tell just from the feel of it that Yuuji’s only given her a few inches.

Her ass burns and her cunt aches, and the longer they stay like that, Yuuji unmoving and Satoru shaking in place, the worse it gets, like the cocks inside her are growing bigger and hotter with every passing second.

Yuuji pets her thigh, so gentle that it’s insulting. “Easy there. You need to breathe.”

“M’trying,” Satoru snarls. “You’re too—”

“Big?” Yuuji finishes after a moment. She hums a little, considering. “Maybe I should take it easy on you after all.”

Satoru pries her eyes open to glare at her. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Alright,” Yuuji says mildly. Her eyes are heavy-lidded again, and the low sweep of her lashes is graceful, but the secondary pair are just slits in her flesh, burrowing into Satoru with bloodstained intent. “I’ll open you up just like this, Satoru-chan.”

Satoru’s barely processed that ominous warning before Yuuji acts. She doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, but the cock inside Satoru’s cunt does, pulsing once like the wet heart of some great beast, minute motions trembling along her straining walls, before growing, not any thicker but longer, more and more and more, and Satoru can only lie there and gasp as she’s filled in a heated rush that’s like nothing she’s ever felt. Fingers don’t even compare, and this burning breach is nothing like the smooth slide of her silicon toys either.

Yuuji doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left of Satoru to take, the tip of the cock bumping into her cervix.

Satoru moans, trying not to squirm at the sensation. Nothing’s ever gone that deep. It still doesn’t hurt, but it feels so weird to have something filling her up so thoroughly, and the shallower intrusion below, barely an inch forced snugly into her asshole, isn’t helping.

Yuuji’s not moving, even her cocks still. Like this, Satoru can’t tell they’re made of blood. They’re solid inside her, unforgiving where it spears her flesh. But they’re hot. Shockingly, scorchingly hot. And as Yuuji lingers without even a twitch of motion, Satoru starts to feel like that heat is branding her walls, except that feels good too—strange and perverse, but so good, like Yuuji’s returned a piece of her that’s been missing this entire time.

Then she takes it away.

“What,” Satoru gasps, trying to chase the withdrawing dick, and Yuuji allows the movement, her hands on Satoru uncharacteristically accommodating, but all that gets Satoru is more screaming emptiness, and it takes her too long a moment to realize that she can’t fuck herself on cock because there’s nothing there, the obscene length of it diminished to just an inch or two at her entrance, keeping her both open and empty, and when she stares down the length of her body, she finds Yuuji’s hips almost flush with Satoru’s crotch, only the thick bases of the twin cocks visible. They pulse again, like they’re mocking Satoru. “That’s just not fair.”

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Spring 2024 Anime

I feel like 2024 is shaping up to be an unusual year for anime. Most mainstream shonen and isekai are staggering into audience fatigue of some kind or another, two-cours series are making a massive comeback, and big waves are being made from eclectic shows like Apothecary Diaries and Girls Band Cry that would likely be relegated to cult classic status in years prior. There haven't been many clear standouts yet, but there's a lot of fascinating second-tier stuff bubbling just under the surface. It feels like the general anime audience has grown so big at this point that the way we consume shows and the kinds of shows that break through are evolving before our eyes. Never mind movies like Look Back and The Colors Within waiting in the wings to redefine our notions of what animated cinema can be. All this is to say, I don't know what we'll make of 2024 when all is said and done, but it's gonna be a very interesting story. For now, though, let's take stock of spring's roster of shows to pick out the best, the worst, and the worth checking out. Not counting the shows I've already talked about (Hibike Euphonium's final season 9.5/10 and Demon Slayer's training arc 4/10) or MHA's latest foray, which I'm still waiting to see exactly how it shakes out.

Dead Dead Demons' Dededede Destruction: Please Watch/10

I'm putting this one right up front because while it's still very early into airing, there's a good chance a lot of you don't even know it exists. Released initially as a pair of movies earlier this year, this adaptation of Oyasumi Punpun author Inio Asano's bizarre bildungsroman alien invasion manga has been retooled into an 18-episode TV series with (apparently) lots of additional footage to fill out everything the movies had to cut for time. Those production circumstances alone would be interesting enough to merit checking it out (fingers crossed Haikyuu can get the same treatment?), but more importantly, this show is just really damn good, and it deserves better than being dropped on Crunchyroll with almost no fanfare and incomplete English subs that don't translate most of the written text. As someone who kind of loved and hated Punpun in equal measure, Dededede feels like all of Asano's best instincts on full display, a riveting exploration of how modern humanity is forced to struggle through "normal" life in the shadow of the apocalypse, asking how we can still set our sights on our futures when there's a very good chance that future might never come. It's messy and difficult, and yet it brims with love for people and our ability to seek kindness and compassion even in the darkest times. Just do yourself a favor and skip the awful "episode 0" prologue; not only is it leagues worse than the rest of the show, it spoils so many details about the story's endgame that it might just ruin the experience outright if you're not careful. You've been warned.

Mushoku Tensei Season 2 Part 2: 1.5/10

Is the second part of Mushoku Tensei season 2 as apocalyptically awful as the first part? Not quite, no. But that's only because Rudeus doesn't do anything quite as jaw-dropping as buying a child slave or kidnapping and molesting a pair of catgirls with no consequences. I know, the bar is in fucking hell and this garbage fire still barely managed to stumble over it. Otherwise, it remains every bit as vile as always. Here's a fun drinking game you can play: take a shot every time someone this season 1) makes excuses to justify why Rudeus shouldn't feel bad about doing something awful, 2) praises Rudeus to high heaven and calls him the most specialest boy ever, 3) falls head over heels for Rudeus in a matter of seconds. You'll likely pass out before you're halfway through the season, but on the plus side that means you won't have to watch any fucking more. I simply remain baffled that so many people have been fooled into thinking this show is something meaningful and smart, how many people ignore its glaringly obvious awfulness to pretend it's saying things it's not actually saying and exploring ideas it's not actually exploring. All I can do is wait impatiently for Re:Zero's return later this year so it can smack everyone senseless with a reminder of what challenging, subversive isekai storytelling actually looks like. Maybe then we'll finally be able to recognize this steaming pile of misogyny and rape culture for what it is and cast it out without a second thought. We can only hope.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (2nd Half): 4.5/10

I think I've given Urusei Yatsura a fair shake. I've done my best to enjoy it through its weaker moments and painfully obvious crows' feet. But now that it's finally over, all I can think is maybe it was better off left in the past. There are infinitely better screwball comedies that have come since, comedies that have been building off the tropes Urusei Yatsura established and finding much more interesting, meaningful things to do with them. This may be a foundational rom-com text, but fifty goddamn years later all its best qualities have been improved upon to the point of obsolescence, and all that's really left is the gross, dated stuff and the fact that every time it tries to be sincere and sentimental it runs into the unavoidable problem that all the romantic relationships its built on really kind of suck. Sorry, but Ataru and Lum are an awful couple and all the worst parts of this show are when it unironically tries to make you root for them despite them being pretty blatantly terrible for each other. I'll stick with Inuyasha, thank you very much.

Wind Breaker: 5/10

Man, why does every promising modern delinquent anime end up driving itself into a ditch before long? First Tokyo Revengers, then Bucchigiri, and now Wind Breaker has completed the trifecta. And this one had so much potential! Casting a shoujo-style blushy tsundere bad boy as the protagonist of an otherwise straightforward tough-guy action brawler is one of the most inspired strokes of genius I've seen in a long time (let alone getting the Kyo Sohma's VA to voice him). What better way to explore the emotional human side of delinquent storytelling than with a main character who's arc is all about accepting other people and learning to love himself despite the world's rejection of him? That plus a slick production full of badass fistfights should've been an easy recipe for success. Unfortunately, it falls victim to the most common of shonen death knells: getting stuck in an overlong, dragged-out arc that consists of nothing but uninteresting fights against half-baked antagonists that loses sight of what made this series unique until its final moments. And double minus points for entirely taking place in a single visually dull location that you're forced to stare at for like 5 episodes straight with occasional flashbacks as your only escape. Seriously, you could cut the Shishitoren arc to half its current length and lose very little of value. I can only hope the upcoming second season won't get similarly bogged down, cause a good version of this show is something I desperately want to believe is possible.

Konosuba Season 3: 5.5/10

So here's the good news first: Despite a seven year gap since the second season and a change in studio, Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. As for the bad news... well, the bad news is that Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. Yeah, in the years since I first watched it, I've had to really reckon with all the ways this show fucking sucks, and all of those reasons remain on full display undimmed by the passage of time. It's sexist, it's objectifying, it's violently queerphobic, it thinks sexual assault is the funniest thing ever when Kazuma's the one doing it, it's every bit as misogynistic and masturbatory as the isekai genre it's supposedly satirizing. And it's also still one of the funniest goddamn anime ever made when it wants to be. Seriously, if you just strip away all the godawful incel-pandering that's seemingly endemic to modern isekai, Konosuba's god-tier expression work and pitch-black sarcasm are a blast of laughing gas like nothing else in its vicinity. If it could just focus on telling actual jokes instead of passing off alt-right sexual politics as "comedy" half the time, it would more than deserve its status as a modern classic. But it won't, because it genuinely believes all that garbage is the funniest shit ever. Which is why it'll forever be stuck as a show that you can never admit to enjoying in public without being justifiably judged by everyone around you.

Train to the End of the World: 5.5/10

It's kind of impossible to describe what Train to the End of the World is about without sounding like you're flipping through ten different plot summaries and choosing words at random. But here's as best I can: a freak accident causes the world to morph into a surreal patchwork of bizarre locales, while also seemingly reducing the scope of the world to a single train line in Japan stretching between rural town Agano and Tokyo's metropolitan Ikebukuro district. When Agano high-schooler Shizuru finds evidence that her long-lost friend Yoka might be trapped in Ikebukuro- and also maybe related to the reason everything went insane- she hops on an abandoned train car with a few friends and a dog and starts the long, long journey to reach Ikebukuro through the madness and chaos that defines the new world. The best I can explain it is Gullliver's Travels by way of Alice in Wonderland and Salvador Dali, each episode taking us to another stop on the train line that's morphed into its own flavor of batshit crazy, from mushroom people to horny zombies to a post-canon bad end magical girl world. Unfortunately, any semblance of a point feels buried under a thousand tons of calcified absurdism too thick for anything resembling sincerity to peek through. There are attempts at exploring deeper themes or character moments, but the show's pace is so blisteringly fast and so deeply uninterested with anything beyond what wild ideas it can pull out of its hat that nothing really sticks by the time the train's rolling on to its next destination. If there's anything here beyond a series of wacky Moments(tm) delivered with the rushed breathlessness of a Youtube video on 2X speed, I can't say it made an impression.

Tonari no Youkai-san: 5.5/10

I'm of two minds about Tonari no Yokuai-san. On the one hand, it's a deeply heartfelt iyashikei that uses its fantasy elements to explore grief, loss, love, community, and the reasons we celebrate life even knowing it must one day end. This town of humans and spirits living side-by-side feels so real and warm you wish you could live there yourself, and the characters populating it, from earnest nekomata to old gay cars to prickly fox spirits and everyone in between, burst with inner life so naturally it almost makes you jealous. On the other hand, for some baffling reason, this show keeps trying to shoehorn in action plots and sci-fi elements that gel with the quiet, contemplative tone as well as oil and water. I genuinely don't understand why the author thought they needed time-space bureaus and giant rampaging snakes to liven things up when just the main character going through an existential crisis about how they're going to outlive everyone they love is ten thousand times more gripping than any of that other nonsense. On the bright side, the good stuff is still really good, and considering how few of you likely watched this show already, let this be your reminder this your reminder not to let it slip through the cracks.

Go Go Loser Ranger: 6/10

Is the idea of a dark, edgy twist on tokusatsu where the protagonist is a nameless minion trying to overthrow a fascist cabal of sentai rangers that unique? Not really, no. But god damn if Go Go Loser Ranger doesn't make it work regardless. There's something just inherently fun about watching one of those nameless background mooks that normally exist just to get punted en masse decide "You know what? I'm done being the world's punching bag. I'm gonna become the protagonist of my own story and take these fuckers down." We've all rooted for the underdog at some point, after all. It's only fair the most disposable fodder get a chance in the spotlight. And Go Go Loser Ranger delights in twisting that setup as far as it can get away with, constantly making you second-guess your allegiances to any one side as it quickly becomes clear there are no true heroes to root for in this world, just lots of different people flawed in very different ways, all fighting for their own personal gain. You're never quite sure when someone you're rooting for is going to break your trust with some horrific act, or someone you loathe is going to prove themselves more courageous than they first let on, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat waiting to see when the next shoe's going to fall. Sadly, it also suffers from Wind Breaker's mistake of spending too much time on an overlong arc that's mostly just dull characters fighting in a duller location, but by the end it's shaken off those doldrums and returned to form in a big way. As long as the second season can keep those gears turning, we're in for a good time.

Spice and Wolf Reboot (1st Cours): 6/10

Let's be blunt: there is no point to remaking Spice and Wolf. The original series is still just as good fifteen years later, and despite the source material continuing past the point it ended, it reached such a beautiful conclusion on its own terms that it more than cemented its status as a true eternal anime classic. Sure, it's nice to experience this story again, to re-aquaint myself with Holo and Lawrence's wonderful chemistry and the fascinating ins and outs of Medieval economics that drive their story. There's a reason I fell in love with this show so many years ago, and Reboot Wolf still has plenty of that charm to go around. But this isn't a re-imagining or a Brotherhood/Froobs 2019 style "proper" adaptation. This is just the same show again but a little bit worse in every way. All I can think of, watching this story I know play out again, is how much stiffer and generic the modern art direction and animation is, how it plays things so much safer with its source material while the original wasn't afraid to make strong changes, how Holo's prickly personality has been neutered into a much more docile, Lawrence-dependent character while the original stood so strong on her own two feet. Maybe it works well enough if this is your first taste of Spice and Wolf, but then, the original show is right there! You could just watch that instead and get a much better experience all around!

Yuru Camp Season 3: 6.5/10

Speaking of shows that are probably pointless, was there really any need for Yuru Camp to continue after the one-two satisfying punch of season 2 and the epilogue movie? Those endings put such a beautiful bow on the series that anything else would feel superfluous. Especially with such a massive downgrade in the art direction department, Jesus Christ. I don't know who's running studio 8bit's compositing department these days, but between this and the latest Yama no Susume season, it's so painful to see a studio that once excelled at background art reduced to putting filters over photographs and awkwardly slapping ill-fitting moeblob characters on top. The clash between the characters and the backgrounds this season is legitimately painful at times, and for a vibes-based iyashikei like Yuru Camp, that could so easily be a death knell. Thank the gods, then, that most of this series' charm still comes through in spite of itself, the wonderful characters and delightfully daffy comedy still as strong as ever as it extols the virtues of finding your peace in the great outdoors. But if we're going to get any more, then please figure out how to make this new aesthetic not so physically repellent to look at.

Kaiju No. 8: 7/10

I've said many times that the art of making a Good Enough show is more complicated than most people appreciate. It takes so much skill and talent, so much mastery of the basic building blocks of storytelling, to create something that's just fun to watch plain and simple. And Kaiju No. 8 is yet another example of how impressive it is when one of these shows gets it right. It's a simple, straightforward action show about an over-the-hill sanitation worker getting one last chance to live his dream as a member of the elite kaiju-slaying force that keeps the world safe from the towering monsters that menace it... by accidentally becoming part kaiju himself. The characters are simple but lovable, the emotional stakes are earnest without being overbearing, the action is consistently exciting and well-animated, and the story keeps you on your toes with well-worn tropes executed in novel and exciting ways. I honestly don't think I've seen a shonen action romp so perfectly nail its fundamentals like this since the early days of My Hero Academia. Whether or not this show will also rise to MHA's eventual level of complexity and thematic weight remains to be seen, but for now, it's just plain fun, and an easy recommendation to anyone looking for a good time.

Delicious in Dungeon (2nd Cours): 7.5/10

Well, I asked for Dungeon Meshi to get darker, and by god, that's exactly what it did. Through shocking plot turns and deeply disquieting thematic touches, this silly little fantasy cooking comedy has developed into something much more sinister and unsettling... while still being primarily a silly fantasy comedy about cooking D&D monsters into mouthwatering meals. I'm still not sure if the tonal whiplash entirely works, but my god does it make this a fascinating show to watch. A single episode can take you from some of the most gut-busting deadpan snark this side of Gintama to a skin-crawling contemplation on mortality and consuming life to perpetuate your own without missing a beat. Turns out, Dungeon Meshi has thoughts on the nature of food as a biological, societal and cultural force, and how that force is not always as simple or benign as a meal shared with friends and family. And it explores those ideas with a quiet dread that makes even its silliest moments feel like a tentative breath before things come crashing down. I have no idea how things will shake out in the second season, but if manga fans are to be believed, it's only going to get more twisted and insane from here. I cannot fucking wait. Just, can Falin stay on screen for more than a single episode without being kidnapped again this time? Girl's such a damsel in distress even Princess Peach is giving her concerned looks.

Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night: 7.5/10

There is no feeling quite like being a young artist. You're excited to make your mark, painfully anxious about not measuring up while simultaneously being quite full of yourself, bursting with ideas and not quite sure how to execute them, but above all else, in love with the act of creation. And I don't think I've ever seen an anime that so perfectly embodies that messy, beautiful spirit as Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night. Four girls from different artistic backgrounds- an artist, a singer, a musician, and a tech wiz- come together as one to give each other the strength they lack on their own, forming the musical group JELEE as they strive to love themselves and their work through the magic they make together. It's an explosion of passion and joy, often times outstripping its ability to measure up to its ambitions and stumbling over itself, but always shining, always dazzling, always wearing its heart firmly on its sleeve as it celebrates the joy of creation in the digital age and the importance of sincerity in a world too afraid of cringe to accept it. It's also a wonderfully capital-P Progressive series; there's a gay kiss, one character is eventually revealed to be nonbinary in a scene so spectacular I wish I could bump my score up another half-point for it alone. Sadly, it only reaches those heights every so often- but when it does, my god is it a sight to behold.

Girls Band Cry: 8/10

I remember back when I watched Love Live Sunshine, I wished there was a girls' music anime where the protagonists sung the kind of badass punk rock usually reserved for the antagonists of idol shows. Well, it looks like writer Jukki Hanada and director Kazuo Sakai heard me, because five years after bidding Sunshine farewell, they're returned with one of the most exhilarating, renegade expressions of punk spirit we've gotten in a long time. Girls Band Cry is a supernova, a soaring firecracker of a show that marries an instantly iconic headbanger soundtrack with Hanada's typically spectacular character writing in this tale of five outcasts forming a band and coming together to spit in the face of the world that tried to grind them into conformity. Nina Iseri's arrogant, self-righteous immaturity is a primal scream for the importance of doing what's right over what's easy, and you feel that scream in your fucking soul. Even the show's scrappy CG animation embodies that non-comformist spirit, charting stunning new avenues for 3D anime with some of the most expressive character models and soaring concert scenes you're likely to see all decade. And while the pacing is definitely rushed at points, the overwhelming emotions bleeding from each and every scene make even the weakest moments go down easy. It's downright criminal Toei fumbled the ball on an official English release, but unless you're completely against sailing the high seas, you owe it to yourself to track it down regardless. So raise your middle fingers to the sky, spill your heart from your chest, and let Togenashi Togeari force you to believe in the power of rock all over again.

Dropped:

-Bartender Drops of God (3 Episodes). Too boring to stick with in a pretty packed season.

-A Condition Called Love (3 Episodes). Creepy possessiveness excused for the sake of romance.

Blue Archive (1 Episode). Do you even need to ask.

-The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio (2 Episodes). Awful adaptation that butchers what made the manga so great.

-Whisper Me a Love Song (9 Episodes). The production falls completely apart and it skips the main couple's first kiss. Just read the manga, it's really damn good and deserved so much better.

[voidpacifist]

you can be afraid

word count: less than 1,000 || pairing: steddie || content warnings: nightmares/panic attacks (very brief)

note: I haven't done a oneshot in a long time and I can never seem to do a normal list of headcanons without it being almost novella length or something (wish I was exaggerating lmao). hope you guys enjoy this one!

•

The room is balmy, drenched in moonlight through the window on an August night. Eddie’s fingering through a book on story structure, at a particularly boring chapter, when it happens. At first, it’s just small noises, little grunts that don’t mean much of anything. But then one of them is punctuated with a sharp inhale, with a whimper, and that’s how Eddie knows Steve is having a nightmare again.

Their relationship is anything but conventional — they met on a blind date eleven months ago, decided they weren’t ready for anything serious, then met again just days later at a costume party. It should have been the end of things, if either of them were more cowardly people. Luckily for the two of them, neither of them are cowardly. Not in the face of anything, be it medical bills, or how they look in public, or who their circles of friends are, or the number of times they’ve argued in a month.

Needless to say, almost a year of close proximity to a person is a recipe for being well acquainted with their quirks, including the kind of quirks that are more hindrances than anything. Steve, his rough-exterior, never-needs-help, scary-seeming boyfriend who wears metal in his face and casually has a baseball bat covered in steel nails hiding in their coat closet, has never been an easy sleeper. It took him a long time to warm up to the idea of staying the night together, afraid he’d fling Eddie off the bed in the middle of a terror, mortified at the idea of him not being able to get back in on his own while Steve’s busy fighting off things conjured by his own brain. It took him a long time, but soon a week of trial with little error turned into a permanent nightly residence in a shared bed. His wheelchair is close by if he needs to escape a mess of wild limbs.

Eddie knows what kind of nightmare this is. Steve usually has two kinds — the ones where he can see, and the ones where he’s in the thick of the fight that rendered him sightless. This is the first kind, the kind where faces come to him in flashes, like phantom memories. It’s been three years, almost four if Eddie remembers correctly, since Steve has seen anything clearly at all.

He gasps awake, then is immediately dry heaving over the side of the bed. It’s disorienting for him, having memories distorted by reality in such a visceral, jarring way. Eddie sets his book aside carefully as he moves closer behind Steve on the bed.

“I’m gonna rub your back now, honey,” he says, keeping his voice soft in a way he reserves specifically for his boyfriend. “You have to try breathing now.”

Steve careens back up into a sitting position, his eyes darting wildly about the room, seeking a light source but not landing on anything. It’s heartbreaking, the way they never still, the way they’re always searching, searching, searching. As though even if Steve has accepted for a long time now that he’ll be blind for the rest of his life, his body hasn’t followed suit. It still remembers too much of the way it used to be. Searching, searching, searching.

“That’s it, sweet thing. You’ve almost got it.”

Steve’s breathing is like a whistle inwards, taking huge gulps of air and expelling them with a tremble. His hands grip the blanket with such force that his knuckles are white, that his arms are shaking. Eddie doesn’t remove his hand from Steve’s back, still rubbing in light circles, clockwise and counterclockwise and in other vaguely round shapes. Eventually, his breathing slows, quiets down to the point where Eddie thinks he’s managed to calm himself down.

He turns his face to Eddie’s direction, and Eddie knows Steve is seeing a vague, dark splotch where his silhouette is against the nightstand lamp. His other hand takes the hand Steve has offered, a plea to be grounded. “I’ve never seen you,” Steve cries weakly, and Eddie can feel something in him splinter.

“It’s overrated,” he says before he can even think about it, in a shoddy attempt to add something lighter to the darkness their bedroom has suddenly taken on. The laugh it pulls out of Steve is dry, humorless.

“I just…” he sighs. “I’m forgetting people’s faces and it scares me.”

God, it would scare Eddie, too. He can’t imagine not being able to picture Robin’s face. Nancy and Jonathan’s faces. Wayne’s face. He squeezes Steve’s hand once, a sign between them that means he’s been heard.

“You can be afraid, Stevie.” He swallows, ruminates over his next choice of words for a moment before deciding fuck it and blundering through it. They’ve never really talked about this before — not in this context, not with this much post-nightmare tension still clinging to the air, or maybe that’s just the heat spike of late summer. Whatever. “But you don’t have to be afraid alone. Feel it, feel all of it. Fuck, honey, just never…if you forget anything at all, just don’t forget we’re with you, okay? I’m with you.”

Steve reaches for his face with a muscle memory so impressive, Eddie’s tempted to praise him for it. He doesn’t have time before their lips are mashed together in an ugly, wet kiss. When they pull away, Steve’s wiping streams of tears from his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, voice less fragile than it was before. He sighs, deep and hewn with exhaustion. “I’ll try to hang onto that. The…not alone part.”

Just like that, Eddie doesn’t think he can splinter at all. “Love you, honey.” He plants a kiss on Steve’s forehead, quick like a punctuation mark, enough to seal it like a promise.

“Love you too, Eds.”

He thinks, watching Steve fully drift off, that perhaps he’s bored enough with his book, eyes drooping just enough that perhaps he’ll fall asleep easily this time. It works better than expected — he stops knowing anything except his and Steve’s breathing as he wraps an arm around him from behind, as his head hits the pillow and the warm light of the room fades into an inkstain behind his eyelids.

The room is balmy, and no nightmares come back to take them.

[aachria]

Query: how do you pick out songs for chapters?

I’ve a pretty limited music taste so whenever I look for songs it takes a lot of effort to pick something a little out there from my base taste, is it having a diverse taste? Googling songs with certain meanings? I admire your ability to not only write this but pick out a song every damn chapter and make it a title for them

I think I've mentioned this before (I am NOT going to go find the ask I do NOT have the patience or care) but I've been compiling chapter title lyrics and songs since I started writing. I do in fact have a horribly diverse music taste, but whenever I'm listening to a song and I'm hit with a 'oh this really fits the feeling of this arc/scene/plot point' with either the vibe or a certain lyric I write it down. Since I've been keeping up doing that with nearly every thing I listen to for over a year, the list is uuuuuuuuh pretty fucking extensive.

I've got chapter titles and accompanying songs for basically the entire goddamn story so far, not HARD SET mind you and not for entire arcs (some of them only have a couple I think would fit or whatever) but like. Oh mama. Even then I have a list of like — OH GOD I COUNTED THERE'S 80 OF THEM — unsorted songs and titles for me to pick from. Some of those unsorted ones are really good too, they just don't really have a place for me to fit them yet.

Some arcs have actually been shaped and planned around the songs/titles I wanted to use for them lmao, they actually super help with the planning and helping me keep track of where I want to take the plot. Like I have titles for the entire rest of pre-timeskip ready to go, but that's very flexible and dependent on how things shake up as I write them. Could end up being more or less according to how long chapter actually end up being and how I have to move them so the moments I assigned to certain songs and titles line up, which is why I haven't put down a final chapter count on the fic itself.

For example, I'm currently writing Impel Down and it should have 10 chapters in total, but there's no way to tell if that'll end up being true until I'm done writing it all out.

This got really long lmao sorry about the tangent. Tldr: I've been stockpiling songs and lyrics for so long I've somehow managed to title nearly the entire fic. It just comes down to the fact I'm listening to music every second I'm awake and I've been writing them down for over a year.

[japhan2024]

I just don't want to be perceived anymore

Author's note: I'm so sorry about this lmao. This is all FICTION

word count: 691 rating: general read on AO3

The room was brightly lit. Cloudy blue wallpaper, calathea plants on shelves, a cat purring in on a small soft stool.

"I guess it's just really hard, you know? Or, maybe not hard... It's weird. Off."

"Please, elaborate?"

The therapist's smile was kind, and Anthony felt at ease with her. He sat on the couch as she sat behind her desk, not facing him directly. It made him feel more relaxed.

"You see... I've been 'on camera' for twenty years now. Sure, I've had my ups and downs, different looks, different eras. Still..." Anthony scratched the back of his neck. "It's like every time I see myself on camera now, I can't help but measure it to my best days. So I always lose."

"Why do you compare yourself to past versions? They are never coming back."

"No, and that's the problem. I'm beginning to see my losing battle with time. Little wrinkles, different kind of face shape..."

"Face shape?" The therapist raised her eyebrow.

"I know, I'm being very vain. And I know it's a part of life and it happens to everyone, if they're lucky to live long enough. Except Oprah of course, she's Benjamin Buttonning."

"Anthony. Let's stay on topic. Obviously everyone ages. But you've done more than age. I'm talking about your tattoos."

Anthony looked at his arms. Long brush strokes ran all the way down them, even over his fingers. He turned his hands. One palm was entirely covered in ink. "I really like them."

"Obviously you do. But, do you think you getting them has something to do with your self-image?"

"I just really enjoy getting them set, and I feel like I am expressing a truth from within me, on the outside. So maybe it does."

You said you're comparing yourself. Did you do that before?"

"I did. I've really done it my entire life. I've never felt like I was enough..."

Anthony looked out of the window. It was a sunny day in California, like always.

"How come?"

"You know my life's story by now, you know why. I can't help it, and I really am trying to work through it, but I don't want to broadcast an embarrassing set of displays of mental breakdown like I did when I first left."

"Left?"

"Smosh."

"Right. Is that all, though?"

"No, of course not."

"Please, Anthony, don't make me pry it out of you." The therapist shot Anthony a look and he laughed.

"Alright. So. I just don't want to be perceived anymore. This last year has been so so good, truly. Buuuut, I've also noticed myself falling into old patterns again. I keep trying to get validation from strangers, it's so addictive. I know better and still I keep doing it.

Anthony sighed.

"And now I have Ian back, it feels... sacred? What we have now, it's so special, truly, right? Like, we've won the lottery, we got our soulmates ending, we did the whole Your Name thing. And making the sketches together has been magical."

He fought back a sob.

"But when we're doing these public appearances, videos, podcasts and all the rest, people I don't know get to butt in on that sacred space. And I don't want them to see, you know? We're finally in such a good place and I don't want it to get contaminated."

The cat jumped from its stool and pushed it's little body against Anthony's tattooed calf. It purred loudly, and left Anthony no other choice than to pet it.

"Have you two done things together that you haven't shared with strangers online?"

Anthony's face lit up. "Yes, and those are the best days. We're in fact planning a short trip to Europe together right now."

"That's good. And do you think this holiday will make you feel differently about all of this?"

"No. In fact, I have made up my mind. I am taking a step back. I will be on screen a little, here and there, but that's it. It's been a long career. And I am ready to retire."

"Fair enough. How does that make you feel?"

"At peace, honestly. At peace."

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Temperature Rising

synopsis: you start the day with some self defense lessons with kadota and later, check on your arrangements with izaya

word count: 4,723

warnings: N/A

"but i need to know, i don't need to be shown i've gotta see it for myself, i've gotta learn it on my own i need to know if i am flesh & bone and am i still growing or full grown?,, flesh & bone - sammy rae & the friends

"Woah, Kyohei, you did all of this?"

Your voice echoes off of the walls of the oddly large bathroom. Trying to find Kyohei in this building was like navigating a labyrinth. The rest of the place was clearly unfinished, still covered in plastic tarps. You stared in wonder at the black and white checkered walls. Kyohei's perched high on some sort of ladder. He holds a black tile in his hand, coating the back of it with a gray paste before sticking it to the wall. 

"Yeah, one sec. I'm almost done."

You're happy to watch as he fills in the remaining small spaces in the wall. He was clearly very skilled, making for a very satisfying spectacle. There was a certain art to it, you thought. After all, you could only imagine the thought and calculation that went into placing each and every tile. Though you had to admit, it was a pretty strange design for a bathroom. Kyohei jumps down from the latter, grunting as he stretches out his back. "Been at this for pretty long, huh?" you tease, removing your backpack and setting it down on the floor in front of you. You sit on the bottom step of the stairwell you had just descended from.

"Eh, nothing I'm not used to. What'd you bring?" He drags a small stool over with him and sits on it, right across from you. You eagerly open your backpack, rummaging through it before pulling out two plastic food containers. You hand one to him, eyes trained on his face as he opens it. Kyohei wasn't an emotionless or stoic guy, per se, but it was rare to see him express himself too openly. His posture was usually relaxed, mouth in a straight line, and eyes dulled by the shadow of his hat. 

Not even the beanie could hide how his eyes widened. He was silent for a moment, staring at the contents of the container. You're holding your breath, wondering what he might say, or if he would say anything at all. One of his signature huff laughs has you internally sighing in relief. It doesn't stop there, unfolding into a chuckle, then a hearty laugh. You stop breathing again, but for a different reason. He had been happy before, sure, but like this, he looked outright joyful. You don't even care about whether or not he was laughing at you, this man was breathtaking.

You clear your throat and do your best to hide your burning face because woah you need to calm down.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, finally calming down. "I don't think I've had one of these since I was in school."

As a thank you for agreeing to aid you in your makeshift 'training', you wanted to do something special from the man. He mentioned getting something to eat after his shift. That's when you had the idea to make and bring something for him. It took some research and shopping the next day, but you managed to put together a couple of cute little bento boxes. You had even managed to find some boxes with little bear faces on them! Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate considering who you were preparing them for, but such a good find could not go to waste. Of course, Kyohei's wasn't quite as little. He was a grown man, after all, he needed his food!

You had gotten a little carried away with the tutorials, and it was only after you had cut a good five apples into bunny shapes before you realized that you were following instructions for a children's bento box. "Where did you even find this?" he asks, picking up one of said bunnies in his fingers and inspecting it.

"Actually, I made them..." you admit bashfully, escaping eye contact by staring at your own food. "I haven't prepared much of my own food since I got here, so I wanted give it a shot. Sorry if it's not exactly like what you used to have. I did my best with what I could learn on the internet." Your confidence depletes the more you talk and you find yourself wanting to explain yourself further. Cooking was definitely not your forte. What if you ended up giving him food poisoning and he never talks to you again?? Any internal goading you have going on is instantly dissipated when you see Kyohei's smile. He picks up a slice of the egg salad sandwich and takes a bite out of it.

"This is great! What, are you just going to sit there? You went to all that trouble to make it." Realizing how creepy you must have looked, you stuff an apple into your mouth in embarrassment. You both silently enjoyed your meals. Not to toot your own horn, you did pretty good. It was a bit of a cop-out to choose a sandwich, one of the most similar foods to what you ate back home--but hey, neither of you were complaining. You offer to let Kyohei keep the cute little box, but he respectfully declines--although you could see the consideration in his eyes.

"So, what's with this self-defense kick all of a sudden?" he asks, handing you the empty box so you can put it into your backpack. "No one's picking on you, are they?"

You hesitate to answer. He sounded so nonchalant, as if he wasn't at all expecting the truthful answer. "Not consistently, no..." He sees something obviously wrong with that answer, eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. 

"But?" he presses. The sudden gravity in his voice is subtle, but you still pick up on it. You never pegged Kyohei as the type to do anything stupid or rash, but he was still the type of guy to be protective of his friends. You admired that about him.

"Well, you know about the whole Slasher thing...but recently I got into another little scuffle." It was not little. You still get tense wondering what it is that they were going to do to you. Obviously, Kyohei wasn't going to let you be vague here.

"A 'scuffle' with whom?" The hem of your shorts is really interesting to you at this moment. There was something about telling him the whole truth that was difficult to you. All you could think about were Kanra's messages from the other night. How would this affect the relationship between the Yellow Scarves and the Dollars? Regardless, you could tell that Kyohei wasn't going to let up until you gave him names.

"Just some punks from the Yellow Scarves. They thought that if they messed with me, they'd be able to get to Shizuo and the Dollars for some reason. I mean, that's crazy, right?" You force yourself to laugh. 

He's silent for a moment. He reminds you of a dad in those TV shows where his kid comes home after curfew and he only says 'I'm not mad, just disappointed.' The sigh he lets out after a while really sells it. "Remember what I said a while back? About this stuff being dangerous and unfair?"

"Oh, don't 'I told you so' me!" you pout. "It's not like I didn't agree with you. Besides, I got out of there pretty much unscathed." 

"How many of them were there?"

"Just three. One of them seemed to be a sort of ring leader. Some blonde dude. Flo-Rida?? Horila?? Something like that." You were being dodgy about the guy's name on purpose, but Kyohei didn't need to know that. Kyohei sighs what is probably his ten-billionth sigh ever. He stands, picking up his stool and moving it to another side of the room. "Alright, show me what you've learned."

With only a day and a quarter of practice, you were still pretty rusty, but Kyohei helped you through it. Once you had to get close to him, your brain, admittedly, started to short circuit. The two of you ended up watching a couple of the videos you had pulled up on your phone. You reenacted the different moves slowly, and Kyohei even gave you a few pointers of his own; whether or not the scenario was realistic, and if the method would actually work. You soaked up as much of the advice as you could, happy you had come to the right person. 

Eventually, you stop to take a break. Kyohei's not out of shape by any means, but it's super muggy in this bathroom, and he is draped head to toe in clothes. "I don't get why you insist on wearing that suffocating clothing all the time. You're obviously burning up," you jest, watching as he wipes the sweat off of his brow. He grunts, sitting beside you on the floor.

"You do know it's October, right?"

"So what you're saying is, when it gets hot, you'll take that hat off?"

"Wha--and what if I don't?" Bewilderment is a cute look on him. You always wondered about his odd attachment to that beanie. It was fine, you guess, but after seeing him without it, you couldn't wrap your head around why he'd want to hide himself like that. Maybe even the 'bossman' himself had insecurities. You could help him with that if he'd let you.

"Hmmm, I don't know. I guess I'd just have to..." In a flash, you're standing over him. "Do it for you!" You snag the fabric of his hat between your fingers, removing it with a single tug. He's at a loss for words, staring at you with wide eyes (that you could see much better now). You cackle at the look of absolute astonishment on his face, making a move to scurry away. However, something catches between your feet, sending you toppling over.

"Hey, quit messin' around!" he grumbles, closing in on you in pursuit of his hat. With both of you on the ground, you both have to crawl around each other. It may be annoying for him but it's hilarious for you. You're so riddled with laughter that your movements are clumsy. At one point, he catches you by the leg, sending you to the ground again. You turn onto your back so you can see him better, only to find him leaning over you. He's reaching for the beanie, held in the hand you had above your head--not realizing the position he's put you both in.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had been in that position. In fact, you notice how similar it was to one of the scenarios you acted out. In a moment of opportunism, you lift your hips, effectively knocking him off of his balance. He's definitely stronger than you, but in this moment, he was vulnerable. You wrap your arms around his torso, clinging to him like a Koala, before quickly rolling over. It was honestly hit or miss whether it'd be enough to transfer both his and your weight, especially considering the fact that he wasn't playing along at this moment. To both his and your surprise, you're able to flip him onto his back with you now on top of him.

Now both of you are out of breath, halted in your positions as you tried to regain your cool. You can't help but start to laugh again, adrenaline sending you into a bit of a giddy fit. "Guess that technique does work after all, huh?" you say, looking down at him. However, at the sight of his face, you're struck speechless. You had seen a lot of new sides of Kyohei today; his laughter, his surprise, but this one was your favorite, you think. It was subtle among the tan of his skin, but from the close proximity, you could easily see the flush in his face. "Hey, are you okay?? You're not too hot, are you?" you asked. He doesn't answer, and in his silence, you finally hear the sound of approaching voices. Very familiar voices.

"Hey, Dotachin, you in here?"

"This place is like a maze, these directions you gave us don't make sense at--Woah!" You have no clue how Walker does that thing with his eyes. Your contemplation on the nature of his facial anatomy is interrupted by Kyohei, who sits up and gently pushes you off of him. "Hey guys! You all ready to head out?" You greet them as usual, smiling brightly at the sight of your good friends. Walker and Erika return the favor, but there is something off about them. Saburo won't even make eye contact with you. You turn to Kyohei in hopes of finding some sort of understanding, but he's no better than Saburo. Huh. How weird... 

...

"I just never pictured Dotachin to be the catcher..." Erika seems to believe that by holding a hand over her mouth, she can keep everyone but Walker from hearing her, even if she continued to speak at full volume.

"Hey, wouldja shut up already??" Kyohei snaps at the two of them.

"I don't get it, is Kyohei into baseball, or...?" you mutter to Saburo, who only shakes his head. You notice a red flush on his face. "Just don't listen to anything those guys are saying. At all," he says back. You were all hanging out in the parking lot outside of the building. The odd atmosphere had dissipated, but Saburo and Kyohei were still a little standoffish, and Erika and Walker kept talking about things that you couldn't really understand (that last part was pretty normal, though). Regardless, you're just happy to be hanging out with your friends for a little longer. The smell of the oncoming storm in the air is soothing to you, so you lean against the side of the van, next to its open door. Erika sits with her legs dangling out the side, now discussing another manga with Walker, who stood in front of you both. You listen silently, trying your best to follow along with the confusing conversation.

"Listen, the moment the creators of the series confirm these crazy theories you have about their relationship, I will be the first to entertain the idea."

"But that ruins their entire chemistry, Yummach!! The whole appeal of their relationship is its ambiguity!!"

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and sneak a peek at it, assuming that your two friends would be too busy to mind.

UNKNOWN NUMBER It's been long enough since your last visit. If you can come today, I'd like to discuss your payment.

The next message is an address outside of Ikebukuro. As cryptic as it was, you had a pretty good idea as to who it could be. Making sure that Walker and Erika are still distracted, you sneakily send a message back.

ME I'll be there soon.

"Kyohei."

You're all taken off guard by the new voice, turning to see who it is. In front of Kyohei stood Masaomi. Just by looking at the boy, you could tell that something was off. The grave demeanor he had during your hangout at Russia's Sushi had only intensified. The gang had told you about their familiarity with the Raira Trio, and you all even crossed paths occasionally--but Masaomi had never intentionally sought them out, and certainly not by himself. Where were the others anyway?

"You came back," Kyohei says. Masaomi nods earnestly, obviously understanding the statement more than you did. 

"I did. Let's talk somewhere private."

You are deeply confused and looking at everyone else, it seemed like you were the only one. Saburo, Erika, and Walker all eyed the boy, uncharacteristically dour. There was a situation that everyone here was aware of, except for you. You are reminded of your first escapade with the van gang at Russia's Sushi and how, at the mention of Masaomi's name, everyone had this same look on their faces. It didn't help how their gazes were not-so-subtly flickering in your direction. Masaomi's eyes meet yours, presumedly for the first time since he had shown up. It's like watching a lightbulb turn on, how instantly his face changes. 

"Oh, hey there, (Y/N)! Didn't see you there. Thanks again for the sushi date, you sure know how to treat a fella!" His smile, the light in his eyes, it's all so obviously forced. You wonder what other times that smile was a facade--a facade that he had to put up around you. Ignoring the despair in your chest, you wave at the boy.

"Hey, Masaomi. Good to see you." You maneuver out of your place between Walker and Erika, approaching Masaomi and standing beside him. "I actually have to bail, now. I really lost track of time! It was fun hanging with you guys, as always."

"You sure you don't want us to drop you off? It's raining," Kyohei offers. His words are reinforced by the feeling of water sprinkling your face. It was a light drizzle now, but it was bound to get worse. As much as you'd like to avoid getting hypothermia, you didn't want to deter whatever serious conversation they were about to have. Not to mention, you were reluctant to reveal to them what you were really up to. 

"Nah, I love the rain! See you guys later." You spare one last glance at Masaomi before you leave. The light had already disappeared. It was heartbreaking, seeing so much weight on a kid. 

Whatever he was dealing with, maybe Kyohei and the others would be able to get him through it.

...

"Wow, you really meant soon, huh?" Izaya smirks at your drenched form. He sits in the same place you had left him, sipping on yet another mug. You're almost angry at how cozy he looks. Something fuzzy appears in your peripheral. It's Namie, holding out a towel. On the inside, you’re swooning. You gratefully accept it, thanking the woman. The fabric feels like heaven against your dripping face. 

Once you're certain that you won't leave wet footprints all over the floor, you meet Izaya at the couch. Out of courtesy, you set the towel down before you sit. His eyes scan your form before he laughs. You wish that the man would at least try to hide his amusement at the sight of you. Your fingers anxiously scratch against the damp denim of your shorts. "So...how's it going?"

"Hm? Oh, I've been fine. I decided to stay in today after checking the forecast." You huff at his answer. This guy was one smug pain in the butt. 

"N-no, I mean...Nice to hear you're having a good day, but...how is the job going?"

"I see." His jovial smile drops as he puts down the mug. The change in demeanor has you fidgeting terribly. You don't know which is worse, his smugness or his gravity. "I have to admit, it's a bit more difficult than I expected. I rarely extend my services to foreign affairs, so I'm still adjusting to the cultural barrier."

You don't want to admit how disappointed you are. Ever since you had made the request, you had really gotten your hopes up. You had spent the past year disregarding the past, choosing to simply look forward to all of the new memories you could make. However, now that you finally had an opportunity to learn more, you found yourself wondering just what kind of history you had. Just how large of a part of yourself had you lost?

"Aw, no need to look so sullen!" Guess your expressions were more revealing than you thought. "I'm certainly not giving up. It'll just take a little while longer. I understand that this must be important to you, so I'll provide a few forms of compensation for the wait."  Your ears perk at the term 'compensation'. 

"Compensation...?"

"Of course! I care about the satisfaction of my clients, after all." He leaves his chair and goes over to his desk. "First off, I'll be sure to cut you a good rate for your payment. I know my services can be a little pricy, and you are a young woman, so I don't mind making it a little easier." You're honestly a little offended. None of that really mattered, especially considering the fact that you could probably cover his normal price. However, you decide not to press, since it was basically your father's money that you were spending. As you decide this, you suddenly make eye contact with Namie, who seemed to be taking a break from cleaning. Her eyes were trained on you, narrowed and filling you with a feeling that you couldn't describe. Her gaze then moves to something behind you, most likely her boss. What was going on with her? Suddenly, she returns to her cleaning, just as Izaya returns from his place at the desk. 

"I'd also like to offer you this," he says, setting something down in front of you. It was a manila folder, similar to the one he had been looking through during your first visit. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it was the folder that he had been looking through. You eye him cautiously, hesitating to even touch the folder. He doesn't seem offended, continuing to smile at you as he leans over your shoulder. The way he stays behind you has you skittish. "I noticed how interested you were in this case the last time that we talked. I've learned all that I needed from it, so I thought I'd lend it to you. There are some riveting aspects that I never told you about."

Of course he noticed that. He wasn't wrong, you had even found yourself wondering about it hours ago. You stare at the folder, wondering what it is about its contents that you'd find so interesting. After a moment, you finally pick it up, accepting his offer. He is visibly pleased by this. "Great! Well, that's all I had to discuss with you, so if you don't mind!" You're put off by such a blunt send-off, but you don't think so much into it. This meeting was just for business after all.

”I was in a car crash a year ago.” Your lips are moving faster than you can register. There’s a silence from the man behind you. Anxious from the lack of response, you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. He’s lips are pressed into a straight line—it’s such a short flash that you almost don’t notice it, but you swear that his mouth had been a smirk a mere second before. 

“Is that so?” You don’t know what reaction you were expecting. Still, motivated by his engagement, you continue.

”I was in a car crash a year ago, and I lost my memory. All I know is that I’m (Y/N) Brigall, 19, adopted daughter of Dr. Neville Brigall. So please, understand what this means to me...I’m sure there are records somewhere, right? News articles, adoption papers, anything....” You’ve managed to choke yourself up. How embarrassing. Taking deep breaths through your nose, you rush to compose yourself. A thin, pale hand rests itself on your shoulder. Izaya smiles at you, and through your blurry vision, it almost looks genuine.

“I will find exactly what you’re looking for,” he promises. If you close your eyes and listen to just his voice, you could find all the sincerity that you need. You finally stand, grimacing at how your clothes were still damp.

As you make your way to the door, he calls out to you. Amongst the spacious room, his voice echoes off of the walls. "I just hope you don't lose sleep over this...perhaps you simply lived such a boring, ordinary life that there's not much to find!"

You don't what it is about his words that don't sit right with you, but you find yourself gaping in offence. You practically whirl around to face him, mouth fixed to say something, anything--you don't know what. However, your tongue stops as your eyes meet his. There it was, that smile--the smile that, on his own, could be perceived as courteous and welcoming. When paired with those narrowed, audacious eyes, however, it carried a whole different meaning that you didn't want to understand. Driven by the shudder traveling down your spine, you quickly exit, not bothering to say any goodbyes. You lean against the door, sighing in frustration. You had really gotten yourself into something messy, huh? 

"(Y/N)?"

You gasp as you realize that someone is standing in front of you. As you travel down the mental list of people that you hope aren't looking at you right now, you realize that it's a very long list. Honestly, it's just a list of every person that you know. No matter what, when you open your eyes and look at this person, you were going to dread it. Despite this, you're still surprised at the sight of Masaomi, gaping at you. Staring into his wide eyes, you're at a loss for words. You don't know what you could possibly do to explain yourself. The way his fists are starting to clench certainly doesn't help.

You're internally berating yourself as you rush past him, never saying a word. What could you say?? You were caught messing with this man--this man who had probably done things to upset a lot of people. How could you possibly justify that? The further you get from him, the faster you move, eventually running until you've completely left the building. Why was he there? He was just with the others, wasn't he? Even under the cool rain, the burning in your face won't let up, persisting through your entire walk home.

You messed up.

...

Kanra:  You guys hear? Kanra: The Dollars and Yellow Scarves went at it again! Taro Tanaka: Man, again? Setton: Scary... Sora: This is getting old! Taro Tanaka: Another scuffle, right? Kanra: Actually, this time, the Dollars hit the Yellow Scarves at their own HQ (°ロ°) ! Setton: A little bold of them, isn't it? Kanra: Yeah! Kanra: You know the Headless Rider? Kanra: Apparently, it teamed up with the Slasher--and together they attacked the Yellow Scarves at their secret hideout!

Out of every single thing you have heard Kanra say, you'd say that you'd believe about 15% of it. She always says such ridiculous things, you wonder if she'll ever quit. Why on Earth would Celty involve herself in all of this gang mess? Not to mention the fact that you watched her slam a Slasher in the face with the wheel of her motorcycle. There's no reason at all to team up with it.

Setton: Uh... Kanra: Something wrong, Setton? Taro Tanaka: That can't be true. Taro Tanaka: I can't believe that, even from you, Kanra. Taro Tanaka: That's way too absurd (´• ω •`)

Saika has joined the chat.

You, Taro, and Setton make a silent, mutual agreement not to share Kanra's antics with Saika, making up some imaginary special effects movie and raving about it. Kanra tries to deflect it, but you three win out due to strength in numbers. Saika seems to take the recommendation to heart, saying that she'll check it out. That lie is going to fall through very soon, but at least you managed to change the subject. At least, that's what you thought.

Kanra: By the way... Kanra: I heard this crazy rumor. Sora: What a surprise... Kanra: So mean!! 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。 Taro Tanaka: What was it? Kanra: They say that the leader of the Yellow Scarves wants to meet the leader of the Dollars and challenge him to some sort of showdown! Saika: Really??

The rest of the conversation continued as usual, with Kanra talking about all kinds of crazy stuff. Sometimes you wonder if she started this chat simply to spread her weird gossip. Where on earth did she get all of this information, anyway? It was always "I heard" and "they said". You wouldn't be surprised if it was all gossip she made up herself. You guess you should be more forgiving towards the girl. When she wasn't spreading rumors, she was honestly pretty funny. With the new addition of Saika, the chat's dynamic had only gotten more amusing. You often wonder if you all would ever meet in person. Honestly, since you were all in Ikebukuro, you wonder if you all had met already....

You laugh dismissively as the chat closes. No way!

[leggyre]

You got any adivce for someone who's considering dropping drawing completely since they don't like what they're making at all?

honestly i've been in the same struggle recently bc it just hasn't been a good year for me. i haven't been drawing a lot bc most of the time i'm either sick or i just.. can't. I've been picking myself up as of late and it's a really difficult grind, but honestly the fact i've been able to actually start this grind is already good for now. I guess that counts as advice; be patient with yourself. Self-esteem doesn't come easy and the little steps are worth so much more than you think.

ok so uh,

-if you just started, don't think about it too much. we all start with the weird scribbles. if you stop now you might never get back to it -if you've been trying to doodle often and always end up hating the result, just take a break. art block is seasoning for burnout and you might just be tired. a lot of times i've felt bad about my art i kinda "gave up" for a while and when i came back to it it was like "wtf this easy what was my issue (it was burnout)". so take a break, play some videogames or hang out with your friends for a week. idk write essays about the media you like? it feels like you're being unproductive but resting IS part of productive because just pushing yourself will just result in nothing being done at the end of the day. -look at your favorite work! im not quite out of my latest artblock yet because its a tough one(it's been teaming up with depression caused by health problems it suuuuucks :/), but when i went long enough without being able to draw I kinda started feeling like I can't do shit and can't call myself an illustrator at all specially bc what i do isnt that big of a deal compared to others(<- comparison also big mistake remember youre the only one who can make YOUR art), going through my folders and seeing the stuff I like the most gave me a LOT of motivation to keep going, even if I was still unable to start drawing right away. not giving up is so important. -so yeah love your art. focus on drawing things you like because it's a gift from you to you, and you should treat it as such. i know it's really hard to be positive about it all the time but it can be really good to go through all your artwork at the end of a day and look at the things you like about it, even if it isn't much. -on that note, find something you really like drawing!!! back in high school i had massive periods of depression that kept me from drawing but i occasionally found sort of a 'life hack' for myself which were things i was always able to work with even during the worst times. one of them was just.. bees. i just doodled random characters as these bees and made og designs too and it was fun. the other one was using colored pencils instead of a regular one bc i just like colors and it made me happy :] it didnt matter that they always had the same overall shape or if i couldnt erase when i messed up, i was just feeling good being able to draw something that i liked. -experiment more!! expand your palettes and download some new brushes. i even change from my newest to my old busted tablet that still sorta works occasionally because using a tool that feels different is.. refreshing somehow? idk -when you need to get yourself back up, do the little steps at your own pace. do a little doodle every day. it's okay if it's always the same thing. the same character. the exact same idea. it's okay if it sucks or if it's unfinished because you struggled. Just give it little pushes. What matters is to try. and it's okay if you can't do it every day. maybe every other day if you need a slower pace. -and remember. engagement doesn't measure your skill. art is subjective anyways!!!!! i spent YEARS doodling and posting only my ocs and getting little to no notes. i think one of my favorite artworks from the time i had ~100 followers had like 0 notes for the longest time. to be honest i don't even know if it has any likes at all nowadays i'd have to look it up bc it's a bit buried

[noshitbarnes]

Anti-Hero: Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: After being experimented on as a young child and given abilities, Daniela has become a highly skilled member of the Avengers, and has even been assigned to mentor Peter Parker. Little does she know that the happiness she’s been able to find will become threatened by the very people who started her on her path long ago.

Warnings: fluff, protective Bucky, language

Word Count: 3,831

Notes: Just let me know what you guys think!

anti-hero masterlist

It had been a few days since Daniela had been shot and her leg was constantly reminding her of the wound. She's a tough woman, but the bed rest and soreness was really starting to take a toll on her mentally. She needed out of the house, desperately, “FRIDAY?"

“Yes, Miss Velikov?”

Daniela stretches in bed and responds to the AI, "Can you ask Helen if I can go for a jog? It's been a few days and I really need to get out of here.”

"Do you want me to inform her of your current state?”

"Like that it's stiff as hell and I'm stir crazy? Maybe that I'm going postal,” she groans and sits at the edge of the bed, "sure, go ahead.”

"Perhaps, I'll put it more gently than that.”

It goes quiet for few minutes and then the AI returns, "Helen said your leg should be healed enough by now. She thought it would be good for it to be used. She wanted me to inform you that if it starts to swell or hurt more, you're to see her immediately. She also suggested taking someone with you.”

Daniela scrunches her nose in disappointment, she was hopping to be alone, "Alright, is Parker up?”

"Yes, he's in the kitchen eating breakfast.”

She smiles and stands up from the bed, "Thanks, FRIDAY." 

**********

After a quick shower and changing into some jogging attire, Daniela makes her way down to the kitchen. When she arrives, she finds Sam, Bucky, Tony, and Peter all around the counter, talking, while eating their food.

“Morning, Dani,” Tony nods while taking a sip of coffee, "how's the leg holding up?" 

"Oh, it's reminding me that it's there,” Tony chuckles as she walks around him to the coffee pot, "so Parker.” Peter sits up straight and raises his eyebrows at the sound of his name, "You got any plans this morning?” She grabs a cup from the rack next to the coffee pot and pours herself a drink.

Peter furrows his brow while taking a bite of his cereal and shakes his head, "Nope." 

"Awesome," she pours some milk into her cup and stirs it with a spoon, "I'm volunteering you to go jogging with me.”

He takes another bite of his cereal, “Jogging?"

She stiffens her expression and looks up from her cup, "Did I stutter?”

Peter shakes his head, "No, ma'am! I just," his face starts to flush up a bit, suddenly nervous, "I didn't know your leg was all better!”

She goes to answer, when Bucky interrupts, "You sure you're up for that?” He asks walking up next to Daniela, pouring himself more coffee, "You haven't done much the past few days.”

She moves away from him and stands next to Tony, "I had FRIDAY ask Helen and she said it would be good for me.” She takes a big drink of her coffee and continues, "I'll stretch okay?”

He smirks while looking down at his cup, chuckling ever so slightly, "So why are you taking the kid?”

"Helen wants me to bring someone along,” she smiles at Peter— who smiles brightly back— "plus he needs to get back into shape if he's gonna be any good to us." He rolls his eyes and she chuckles, "Thought this would be a nice fresh start for us both.”

"I like it,” Tony grins, "it's a good bonding exercise!”

"I think they're bonded enough, Stark." Bucky rolls his eyes and begins to walk out of the kitchen, cup in hand, but stops short of the entrance, "If you have trouble and the kid can't get you back in one piece," he turns and meets Daniela's gaze, "he's gonna have to answer to me.”

Daniela crosses her arms the best she can while holding a cup, "We'll be fine, Barnes. No need for threats. Now go on, go find Steve or Clint to play with.” She shoos him away as he walks out with a huff, "What's stuck up his ass?”

Sam chuckles, “Nothing." He sits down next to Peter and pours himself a bowl of cereal, "He just wants to make sure Parker here gets trained proper." He pats Peter on the back, making Tony laugh.

**********

Once Peter had finished his breakfast and Daniela had finished her coffee, the pair made their way out onto the the large front lawn of the compound, "Alright, Parker,” Daniela begins as they make their way out of the compound gates and take to the city sidewalk, "I'm gonna be a lot harder on you now," she turns to him and he looks her over slowly, "I hope you know that.”

"Wouldn't expect anything less, Dani,” he smirks at her as they begin to jog down the pavement, "can I ask you something though, um, as a friend? Not as my superior?”

She laughs a little bit, making him blush and look away, "I'm sorry, I just," she chuckles lightly once more, "we're friends Peter, always.” She elbows his arm lightly, "I don't want you to think you can't talk to me.”

"Oh okay, good,” his face brightens up once again, "thought you were gonna tell me no there for a second.” She smiles and he continues, “Um, okay, so does Sergeant Barnes not like me or did I do something to piss him off?”

Peter wanted to get a long with everyone on the team, he planned to stick around for a long time, and Bucky was apart of it all. Despite being slightly jealous of the solider, he wanted to get along with him, and maybe someday even be friends. Peter just didn't understand why Bucky seemed to dislike him so much, he didn't spend much time with him, so maybe Daniela knew more.

Daniela shakes her head, “Well, you did get me shot, hun. He's still a little upset by that.”

"Besides that!” He groans and she chuckles, "I just, he seems to not like me at all, ever since I got here. Not that I care, well I do, I just, I dunno—”

Daniela had no idea why Bucky was being so difficult with Peter, he was rough around the edges sure, but he seemed particularly set on not getting along with the kid. She didn't think it bothered Peter that much, clearly it did, which she felt bad about. All Peter talks about is wanting to fit in and feeling like he belongs somewhere, so maybe she needed to have a talk with Bucky and see what is problem really was.

"Peter," he stops stammering and listens, "I don't think it's that he doesn't like you." She shrugs and takes a deep breath, "You're still new around here and he's not really good with new people. Give him some time, he'll warm up to ya.” She purses her lips a bit, “To be honest, I’m still not sure about you."

He chuckles and pokes her in the side, "You love me, Dani!” She laughs along with him, "To be honest, I didn't think I'd enjoy having my ass kicked so much, but it's not so bad with you.”

Daniela feels her cheeks burn slightly and shakes her head, "Yeah, well you need to learn to handle your own a bit better."

The pair jog a few blocks, which takes a good thirty minutes, until Daniela's calf starts to get sore and cramps a bit, so they decide it's time to turn around and head back for the compound. Peter wipes the sweat from his forehead and looks around the city, "Would it be the worst thing if we stopped for something to eat? Starbucks? Ice Cream? Something?”

She raises an eyebrow to Peter, "I dunno. If we're not back in a timely manner, Tony'll think I killed you or that you left me for dead in a ditch.”

He half glares, "Very funny,” she smiles proudly, “just a quick Starbucks run!” He points down the sidewalk in front of them, "There's one right there! We can just stop in and get one to go!”

"Why the need for coffee?” She asks while shaking her head.

He shrugs, "I dunno, just feel like it." He then grabs her hand and begins to pull her toward the shop while pouting a bit, "Please, Dani!”

She groans throwing her head back in defeat, “Fine!"

He hugs her and she pushes him away while laughing, "Thank you!”

**********

"Okay, so this was a good idea,” she smiles while taking a drink, “it's about time you had one.”

"I always have good ideas,” he says defensively, “just, no one ever listens to them." 

"No," she raises a finger to the sky, "we listen and then Tony proceeds to tell you that you're wrong.” He rolls his eyes while taking a drink, "Like the time you thought it would be harmless to upgrade the coffee machine. Saying it would be faster and the coffee would taste better. Tony told you not to touch it, said it was fine the way it was.”

"Okay, see—”

“Then,” she says, ignoring him, "Rogers turned the thing on and it exploded, Peter!" She makes a small explosion motion with her hand, "It exploded all over Captain America's face!”

"It didn't explode..." he trails off while sighing, "it just, ya know, started smoking and caught on fire…"

"Barton and I laughed for 10 minutes ‘cause Steve looked ridiculous! He had coffee all over the front of his shirt and his hair was standing up!" She laughs remembering Steve's face, "God, then Tony came in and he was so mad! He started cursing at Steve ‘cause he thought it was his fault, then he turned to me and Clint." She shakes her head, "Once he realized it was you're fault though, he stormed off, not saying another word.”

His eyes were fixed on the cup in his hand, "He was really mad." He takes a drink and sighs, "Said if I was his kid he'd ground me permanently."

**********

They both talked the rest of the way back to the compound, Daniela thought Peter was a sweet kid, he was really easy for her to talk too. She discovered that they had a lot in common, he was an only child like her, dog person, enjoyed the occasional movie binge, didn't really understand other people that much, but he loved science. Daniela did too, even though she never got the chance to study it that much. It had always peaked her interest despite her past, Peter made it sound so much fun.

They walk through the entryway of the kitchen and were greeted by Sam and Bucky, "So you didn't have to help her back, kid?" Bucky asks without looking up from his paper.

Daniela rolls her eyes and Peter's grow wide, "Um, no sir, didn’t have to help her one bit." 

"We survived, Barnes,” she finishes the last of her coffee and takes Peter's empty cup, "thanks for caring." She throws them both in the trash then elbows Bucky in the arm for his rudeness, causing him to elbow her back.

“He was very worried.” Sam smirks while looking down at his phone— causing Bucky to glare at his paper, "Only just recently stopped pacing.”

Daniela raises an eyebrow at Bucky who rolls his eyes, "We were gone for two hours, Barnes. That's how long I'm normally gone for runs anyway, relax." 

He sighs sharply and finally meets her eyes, “Three and a half actually." 

"Really?" She looks down at her watch, then curses in her head before looking back up at Bucky, "We were bonding, my apologies.” She smiles at Peter who chuckles. She then looks back to meet Bucky's narrowed gaze, "Next time, tell me when I need to be home, sir.”

Bucky smirks, a hint of playfulness in his eyes, "I'll have to remember that." 

"You two are so weird." Sam scoffs standing up from his stool, "One minute he's scolding you for your attitude," he turns his eyes to Daniela, "which by the way, if I did that, my wings would be frozen,” she laughs and Bucky smirks down at his paper, "then the next minute he's pacing back and forth, worried you two are dead in an ally somewhere.”

That causes Bucky to stand up and fold his paper, "First of all," he glances at Sam and places the folded paper on the counter, "I wasn't pacing.” He holds up his hand before Sam can interject, "Second, I wasn't worried, simply curious why they had been gone so long. Runs don't take over three hours.”

Sam rolls his eyes while Peter and Daniela share a confused look, "Okay Parker," she says trying to change the subject, "let's head to the gym and start some drills, give these boys some space." She pushes him out of the kitchen.

Peter and Daniela make it about halfway down the hall, when Bucky call her name from the kitchen, "I guess I'll meet you there.” Peter nods and goes on ahead. She sighs and walks back into the kitchen, Sam had disappeared now, so it was just the two of them, "What's up, Barnes?”

He was leaning against the counter now, arms crossed, looking intense, "So why did it take you so long?”

"Lord, Barnes," she rolls her eyes and walks up next to him, "we jogged a few blocks when my calf started to get sore, so we turned back.” She hops up onto the counter and he moves to stand in front of her, "We took our time walking back and stopped at Starbucks.” He looks down at her calf that was now slightly swollen, "I feel like I'm briefing you after a mission.” He chuckles, but still doesn't look up, "Can you stop looking at my leg? It's fine.”

"You know, Velikov," he kneels down in front of her, "just because I'm done training you," he holds her calf between his hands, "doesn't mean you're not my responsibility anymore."

Bucky was just trying to make sure that Daniela was being taken care. He knew she wasn't going to watch her limits, so he might as well do it for her. The benefit of that currently, was that he got to touch her, feel the soft skin of her leg, and show her that he had a softer side that he wasn't always so difficult. Bucky wanted more from Daniela in every possible way, but he didn't know how to explain that without sounding needy, so he'd settle for what little intimate moments he had with her, for now.

Daniela takes a deep breath as his fingers move more slowly than they needed too along the growing scar on her leg, "What are you saying,” he continues to focus on her leg while she talks, "if I mess up it's on you too?" 

"You know that's not what I meant.” He takes her right foot in his metal hand, thumb under the arch with the other fingers resting gently on the top. His other hand came up and wrapped around her ankle gently, "I meant that I'll still look out for you when you need it.” He pushes her foot toward the direction of her knee causing her calf muscle to stretch a bit, making her wince, "Yeah, that's what I thought," he sighs heavily and stands back up, "come with me.”

He extended both hands to help her down, which she takes, and gently hops off the counter, “Um, did I miss something?”

"Basically, you over did it today with the running.” He squeezes both hands before letting go, "I want you to rest, I'll help out Parker.”

Daniela laughs, "No way,” he looks to her, clearly offended, "that kid is my responsibility, Barnes. I'll rest, fine, whatever. I'll even ice the damn thing, but I'm going down there with you, so I can watch.” She walks off and she hears him sigh from behind her, "N'make sure you don't kill him.”

"I wouldn't do such a thing.” He says while following her out of the kitchen, "Definitely make sure he wished he was dead.”

“Barnes," she groans, "this is why he thinks you don't like him!”

He raises an eyebrow, "He thinks that I don't like him?”

"Can ya blame him?” He grows quiet, so she continues, "We talked about it a little on our run. I told him it's cause he's new around here and you're not good with new people.”

"I don't need you to defend me.”

She raises an eyebrow at his remark, "I didn't do it for you." She pauses, "I don't want him to think he's not welcome here. Like you said, we're all on the same side, gotta get along.”

He hesitates, "I guess." He heavily sighs as they make their way down the stairs, "I'm still not sure how he's gonna work out around here. He's still pretty green.”

"Both of us were when we were his age," she smiles flatly, "took us time to get this good." 

He purses his lips a bit and nods, "Yeah, I um,” he lets out a breathless chuckle, "don't remember a whole lot about back then. I'm sure I was the same though.”

"Right, um,” she bit her lip nervously, “sorry."

"No," he rubs her back reassuringly, "it's okay. You're just helpin’."

She shrugs, "Tryin' to anyway."

**********

It had only been an hour of Bucky and Peter sparring and they were both getting on Daniela's nerves. Between Peter not wanting to get anywhere near Bucky and Bucky cussing at Peter so much, it was giving her a migraine. The men clearly did not want to be working with each other, but were only doing it to make her happy, which she appreciated, to a point. Daniela slightly hoped this would bring them a little closer.

"Okay," Daniela yells from the bench on the sidelines, "Parker, I told you not to use your webs this time! You gotta learn to fight without them!”

"But this works," Peter yells back webbing up Bucky's feet once more, "gives me an edge!”

"Am I allowed to kill him now?” Bucky glares at Peter then to his webbed up feet, "I don't know how much longer I can take this shit.”

"Hey," Daniela calls to Bucky, making him look to her, "you volunteered for this." She points her hand at Bucky's feet, freezing the webs, and he breaks them by moving his left leg out to the side.

Peter's eyes grown wide, then glares at her, "That's cheating!"

"Well, you started it, hun.” She says calmly and Bucky smirks, "you be nice." She points to Bucky and he rolls his eyes.

"Alright kid, let's try this again.” Bucky takes a deep breath and stands in front of Peter, “Put up your hands and do it right this time.”

Peter jumps down from the wall and slowly makes his way toward Bucky. He sighs and puts up his hands, taking a deep breath, "This is not how I pictured my day going.”

That makes Bucky laugh, "How did you picture you're day going?” Bucky takes a swing towards Peter's face, which he dodges easily. Peter starts weaving back and forth as Bucky picks up his pace on his punches. Daniela was actually quiet impressed that none had landed yet, although she could tell Bucky was taking it easy on him. "I don't know," Peter says between dodges, "thought I'd be sparring with Dani.” He catches Bucky's vibranium hand and smiles proudly sideways at Daniela, "Hey, look!”

Daniela grimaces a bit, knowing what Bucky was about to do. She's been on the other end of Bucky's fists, she's caught that vibranium hand before too, so she knew all too well what he was capable of. Bucky just smiles sarcastically at him, then takes his right foot and suddenly swept Peter's legs out from underneath him. Daniela grits her teeth and shudders when she hear Peter's head hit the mat, hard. Peter lays there for a moment clearly trying to regain his breath and composure. His eyes are closed, teeth gritted, and cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment.

Daniela furrows her brows and hisses, "Damn it, Bucky." Bucky looks over to her and smiles proudly.

"Now," Bucky begins while turning back to Peter, kneeling down beside him, and pats him on the chest with his flesh hand, "are you done trying to impress the girl?”

Peter audibly growls, shocking Daniela, and looks back at Bucky as he opens his eyes, "Are you?" 

Daniela's eyes grow wide as do Bucky's, surprised by the sudden forwardness, "Excuse me?" Bucky asks, voice deeper and more threatening than before

However, Peter's angry expression doesn't change, he just rolls his eyes, "Nothing, sir.”

"That's what I thought." Bucky stands up once more and helps Peter to his feet, the pair still glaring at each other.

"Alright," Daniela stands up and claps her hands together, "as much fun as this is for me." She rolls her eyes as the men continue to stare each other down, "I think I'll be going now. Too much testosterone in here.”

Peter snaps out of his trance, "Wait!" He somewhat hops over to her, trying to stop her from leaving, "You're gonna leave me with him?” He holds her forearm and pouts a bit, "I thought we were still partners?”

Daniela smiles reassuringly, "We are, Parker, but I've got orders to rest today.”

He furrows his brows and lets go of her arm, "Who said that?”

Bucky walks up next to her and crosses his arms, "I did." He tips his chin up slightly and looks down at Peter, "Got a problem with that, Parker?”

Peter slightly narrows his eyes at Bucky, “No sir.”

Daniela just rolls her eyes at the two while encasing her leg in a layer of ice to keep the swelling down, "God, Barnes," Bucky smirks at the kid before turning his gaze to her, "take it easy on him would ya?”

He lightly shrugs, "I'll take it into consideration.”

She groans as she walks around Peter toward the gym door, "I'm starting to think the SRT squad would have treated me so much better.”

Bucky laughs while Peter looks confused, "But then you wouldn't be one of Earth's mightiest heroes." His voice dropping to imitate Thor, making Peter laugh.

Daniela turns around and wrinkles up her nose in disgust, "First off, horrible Thor impression.” Peter smiles looking between them both, "Second, I'm not one of Earth's mightiest heroes. I'm an old woman from Montana, forced to live in a compound with a bunch of freaks, and now I'm stuck babysitting a spider from Queens.” She holds up a hand before either can speak, "Thirdly, if either of you knew my history, you may not be so fond of me.”

“Why’s that?” Peter asked.

She shakes her head, “Never mind."

Peter frowns a bit and turns to Bucky who nods toward the mat behind them, “Come on, Parker, we got work to do."

[etraytin]

How It's Going So Far

We have visitors coming in for the funeral next weekend, so this week has been devoted to freeing up the guest room. This means not only moving out of the room I have been living in for the past eight months, but cleaning out enough of the master bedroom that it seems a little less like "MIL's room that we are camping out in" and more like "our actual bedroom in our actual home now." We haven't got the time or mental or physical energy to move around the furniture much or do a lot of redecorating, but we've been able to get some stuff taken care of.

Moving my clothes in was a very big thing. I have been living out of a suitcase, a cardboard box, and a completely disorganized pile on a chair for so long that I'd almost just gotten used to how uncomfortable it is to never know where any of your clothes are or what is clean. Now I have six drawers and ample closet space, my things are clean and put away, and some part of my psyche that I didn't know was clenched has finally relaxed. It feels pretty good! Of course in order to get there I have had to deal with a huge quantity of MIL's things, either disposing, packing for donation or preparing to sell.

MIL had great taste in everything except movies and television, and her closet was full of high-quality clothes that she kept in really nice shape, some of it barely worn. (She also liked shopping very much and she and I did quite a bit of it this past year!) There's a nice consignment store in town but they only take ten pieces of clothing, ten accessories, ten bits of jewelry and ten household items per person per week. Anything that they don't want to sell they give back, but it still counts against your total. This has led to the somewhat weird feeling of trying to get a good grade in Consigning, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve. So far I have done pretty well, with very few things rejected. I've devoted an entire corner of the closet to stuff that is still waiting for consignment, and at this rate I will be done sometime in the year 2525.

All the stuff that is not consignable, either because it's a little more worn out or it is stuff like pajamas, socks, blankets, etc, I have been putting into bags for donation. So far I have five white trash bags full, which I am keeping a close eye on to ensure they don't go out with the garbage by accident. There's a thrift store attached to a DV shelter a couple towns over, and I think I'll probably take this stuff over there. A lot of it is good enough to use, even if nobody's going to pay 14 dollars a pop for it at consignment, and hopefully the clients can use some of the items, with the rest of it getting sold to fund operations. It's a good cause! Other stuff I am putting in boxes and tucking away. In the spring, I'm going to have one hell of a garage sale.

One week now until the funeral, so my attention is turning that way (while still trying to juggle all these finances, utilities, taxes, DMV etc in the meantime). We've got a pianist and a vocalist lined up, so I just need to get the order of services finalized, publish the obituary, order the catering, buy all the servingware and beverage stuff, print out all the pictures and make the photo boards. My parents are coming on Tuesday, thank God, and are going to take some of the load off me. Throw in doctor's appointments, lawyer appointments, retitling the vehicles, getting somebody to fix the dry rot in the garage and maybe at some point actually moving our things out of the garage, and it's still going to be pretty busy here for the next little bit. But at least it's starting to feel more normal, less like I'm a marble rattling around in a cup that isn't mine. The sadness hits at funny times and I think the funeral itself will be rough, but we're settling in.