#pretty sure him fucking the devil was also a spite thing

[venacoeurva]

Support group for Nerevarines who hate being Nerevarines and don’t take it up with a sense of duty or honor and just spend the entire year or so like “thanks you dead fuck. I hate this”

[passionateseadruid]

Snake king’s bride 7

Holiday Havoc part 1 of 2

CW: Swearing, religious topics, Violence, one mention of dub-con and more

Summary:

This chapter was brought to you by spite and Lucifer’s slutty waist and sluttier child bearing hips. Man needs to close his FUCKING LEGS!

Notes:

HEY REALLY QUICK IMPORTAINT NOTE: So in this chapter there's gonna be a lot of references to religion and a surprise and ONE mention of Dubcon at the end. If you are uncomfortable feel free to skip this chapter. If you want to skip the chapter but you want to see the surprise I’ll leave a note at the end.   Also sorry this took so long to get out, I was having a hard time getting inspiration for this and then my computer broke. And on top of that a good 30 minutes of work was Deleted! Fuck ao3

It's been a few weeks since you've met Fizzarolli. He hasn't Been able to find anything but you're hopeful because you'll actually get to see him again at the end of the week for the kings annual holiday party. To top it all off you haven't bought a single present for anyone (plus you're not even sure who it's appropriate to buy presents for).

But none of that is what you were concerned with right now. No, right now you have to convince the short blond idiot in front of you not to wear a green tree print tux embroidered top to bottom in tinsel, lights, and other decorations.

"First of all, you are NOT coming with me to my parents dinner-"

"Of course I am! I have to introduce myself to my new in-laws." He cuts you off playfully sticking out his forked tongue.

"I figured you'd overstep again." You sighed. "If that's the case then secondly you cannot wear that to this dinner. All of my brothers are gonna be there, plus Lilian is gonna be there. I want to make a good impression so that you don't kill them."

"Okay fine. What do you want me to wear?" He sighed. Under his happy exterior he was fairly nervous.

You went into his closet and looked through his clothes. "We also need to set up some ground rules. My entire family is veryreligious and while I'm no Mother Teresa I still don't want them to worry about me."

"Teresa was such a goodie two shoes. I observed her when she was alive and she was even more virtuous than anyone else makes her out to be." He sighed and looked toward the ground for a moment. "She... reminds me of someone I knew back in heaven. Or she did, but the angel I knew... changed"

"Really? You don't talk about your past much."

"...You said you had ground rules for me." Lucifer avoided your eyes as he changed the subject.

"Firstly, don't tell them anything about you being the devil; or about heaven or hell; oh or about our situation. Secondly, don't mention Charlie; I don't want them freaking out about you being billions of years older than me, or about the fact that you have a daughter whose old enough to be my sister."

"She's actually old enough to be your great grandma."

"And you don't find any problem with this relationship."

"Darling look I know that we're an... ahem... unusual couple but I can't go on without you. I'll do anything to have you." He cups your chin and forces a kiss.

"Rule three, you are not allowed to be overly sexual. I have four brothers and three of them have kids so no groping me and no talking about how you wanna diddle my holes in my sleep."

"That's disgusting, I wouldn't do that to you." He defended against your accusation. 

"Okay we should probably go over each of my family members and their jobs. I hope we'll have enough time to go over this and get them presents."

"Don't worry! We'll just give each of them $10,000."

"Hells currency isn't going to be valuable on earth.

"I know. But for all your protests towards my affection you sure seem to forget who I am. I'm the Devil darling. I have pretty much every politician in my pocket. Here check this out!" He pulled you away from the clothes and into a side room off of his bedroom. Never a good thing to have. He shows you a room that's mostly filled with carnival games. "Here I'll spin this wheel, you take a dart and throw it at them. Whoever it lands on I'll go have a little chat with."

"How about you do that and I'll go pick out something for you to wear." This was just too weird. "If you're absolutely serious we'll need 14 grand."

////////////////////////////////////////

About an hour later you two were sitting in the kitchen going over your family members. He wore the red sweater with a big duck plastered on the front and black pants you'd picked out. It was annoying having him matching your red sweater and floor length black skirt but nothing could be done about it considering the only other option was letting him dress like an idiot.

"Okay so my Mom’s name is Janice, she likes crafts. Dad's name is Dalton and he and my oldest brother Austin like to weld and woodwork. Austin is divorced and has only one girl, her name is Monika. Don't worry she's probably not gonna want to talk to anyone let alone you. My next oldest brother is Peter who's married to Margaret and they has twin boys named Christopher and Evan. Everyone calls Christopher CC though, since he likes that the best. The twins and their dad like rollercoasters and the batfam. Dallas is the brother I'm closest with and he is the epitome of middle child, very class clown type. He has two kids a boy names James and a girl named Missy. He lost his wife last year so don't don't bring it up okay? And finally my spoiled brother Michael. He's the youngest son, my mom's pride and joy. The golden boy, her favorite. Him and his Fiancée got married this summer in July. She despises me so whatever you do bite your tongue and be as nice as you can to her okay? The last thing I need is for Maggie to start crying."

"Golden boy Michael hits a bit to close to home for me." Lucifer looked away from you. Just anywhere away from your figure.

'Oh like that isn't your fault.' You thought, thankful that he couldn't read your mind. "Got all that?"

"Yep." He motions to a notepad that he wrote it all down on. "Quick question. What's the "BatFam"?"

"Bat family. Like Batman and all his robins. Here I should have a picture on my old phone of them last year trick or treating. Peter was Batman, Margaret was cat woman, Evan was Nightwing AKA Dick Grayson, and CC was the fifth robin, Damien Wayne."

"What about your old roommate?"

"Lilian moved in with her uncle when we were 14. He worked a lot to provide for her so she was left alone most holidays. I invited her over one year and she basically became part of the family. Are you ready to go? The fudge I made yesterday has probably settled by now."

"Yeah, let's go." He held out his hand. You took the fudge in your hands instead. He frowned and opened the portal. You both stepped through and found yourselves at your parents house. Lucifer knocked on the door and 

"Auntie!" James shouted from behind the CC who'd opened the door.

"Hi auntie!" CC smiled as the two boys hugged you.

"Hi boys! Let me get inside and put the fudge down." You smiled warmly, not noticing the short man behind you seething. Yes Lucifer knew how childish it was to be jealous of two young boys, and your nephews at that, but he couldn't help it. You smiled so warmly at them and you gave them the attention he so desperately craved.

You two walked in with the boys in toe. 

"How's my favorite baby sister?" Dallas asked as you set the fudge down on the counter and he picked you up to twirl you from behind. "Better not be doing the Devil’s Tango with that deviant." He teased quietly so only you heard him.

You giggled. "I'm doing fine."

"You better be! Do you know how worried we were when Lilian told us you ran away with your fiancé! None of us even knew you were engaged! Why didn't you tell us?" Austin pulled you out of Dallas's hold and squeezed your shoulders protectively.

"Her and I had a bit of a spur of the moment engagement. I mean if it feels right and they’re the one, why not tie the knot." Lucifer put his arm around your waist. "Hi, call me Lucy. Lucy Magne." He held out his other hand for either of your brothers to take. Austin takes his hand and his eyes widens when he feels the Devils cold black hand.

"Sorry. It's a skin condition. Very rare. Not hereditary."

"Uh huh." Austin looked suspiciously at him.

"Bestie!" Lilian runs up to you.

"Lilian hi! I- oof!” You were cut off by her hug.

"Why didn't you tell me you got a sugar daddy?" She whispered.

"A what?!" You blushed.

"Come on I'm not dumb. A man shows up in a clean white suit and asks about all the things you like. He says he wants to provide for you. It's so obvious it's painful."

"Well it's not as simple as that." You tried to explain but you were pulled away by your parents.

"Sweetheart! Where have you been? So much has happened in these past four months." Your mom hugged you. "I'm sorry mom. Things just happened and my life got kinda hectic."

"You're not pregnant are you?" She asked.

"What? No."

"Then why did you drop out of college? You practically fell off the face of the earth. You're only 19, you should live your life. You don't need to grow up so quickly. We already have 5 grandchildren, you don't need to rush into marriage and family life. You should enjoy being young."

"I know mom." 'But I don't really have a choice.' "Him and I aren't rushing in to anything like that though. He's just… passionate about me and kinda… clingy."

"Come on Janice. We raised our girl right. She knows not to run around with degenerates." Your father came up to you both and squeezed your mother’s shoulder reassuringly. "Hi pumpkin." He turned to you.

"Hi dad." You two hugged each other. He led you over to the dining table and sat you down next to Lucifer who was arm wrestling with Monika.

"Why you going easy on me, old man? Just cause I'm a girl?"

"Haha… hah…" He chuckled awkwardly. "Who is she Goliath? I wasn't going easy on her." He whispered to you.

You looked at Monika. "Suplex him next." You smiled towards her as Lucifer's face fell. "It's nice to see you off your phone for once Monika."

"I guess I'm in a holiday mood since it's nearly Christmas." Everyone eventually came over to the table to eat.

////////////////////////////////////////

After about an hour of talking with your siblings you heard crying coming from the playroom your parents built decades ago.

"Is anyone hurt? Did the bookshelf fall down on someone? Did the curtain rod smack someone on the head?"

"Your freaky Fiancé made Missy cry." Evan pointed at you accusingly as James held the tot in his arms.

"What did you do?" You asked Furiously.

"Nothing." He held his arms up defensively. "It was just some light teasing."

"He said the goat man was gonna eat me!" Missy sniffled. 

"What goat man?" You rubbed her cheeks, whipping her tears away.

"Krampus." James answered.

"I didn’t say he was gonna eat her. I said Krampus beats naughty children who don't share with their siblings." Lucifer explained.

"I didn't even want the stuffed moose that badly. I swear I didn’t Auntie."

You shushed James and turned to the Devil. "What is wrong with you?! Why would you think that’s okay to say to CHILDREN?!"

"Honey I-"

You ran your hand through your hair. "You know what? I want you out. I’ll see you tomorrow but right now I need to be alone."

"What…?" His eyes widened.

"Leave. You've caused enough commotion for my family. My brother Austin thinks you're a creep. My mom, Dallas, and Lilian all think you're a deviant. And now you're traumatizing my niece and Nephews."

He left out the back door and you explained the situation to your parents afterwards.

////////////////////////////////////////

"Okay seriously this guy’s bad news sis." Michael persuaded as you two sat on the couch. It's been almost an hour and things are starting to die down. You and your youngest older brother sat in the kitchen talking by the island. "Look I know we've never been super close but you're my favorite sister and I worry about you. Without you, I'd be the one they shirk responsibility of watching the kids onto."

You rolled your eyes. 'Of course.' "So what do you suggest I do now?"

"Dump him. It's not like you need to get married. I mean, come on. You? A wife? HA! No, you're not the marriage type."

"I suppose. The only problem is that I can't get this stupid ring off." You look away. He goes to the cabinet and pulls out some vinegar. He grabs your hand and pours a bit on your ring but it won't come off. He pulled and pulled but it still wouldn't come off.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY BRIDE?!" A distorted voice came from the Fireplace in the living room. Out stepped Lucifer back in his white suit with his top hat. His red horns popped out of his head, fire sprouting between them. Just like at the ball; only this time he sprouted a tail. He grabbed you and pulled you toward the fireplace.

"NO! LET ME GO!" You thrashed in his hold. In a Last ditch Effort you grabbed the crucifix hanging on the wall and said, "Matthew 10:14 Begone Satan!"

"Ow! First of all it only works if you say the whole thing. Secondly IM NOT HIM!!" He slapped the cross out of your hand and slapped you to the floor. "AND FINALLY YOU REMEMBER WHAT I SAID WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU EVER BROUGHT UP THAT BOOK AGAIN. HOW ABOUT I KILL YOUR FAMILY INSTEAD SO YOU LEARN NOT TO FUCK WITH ME- Ah!" You two were cut off by a shot ringing out throughout the house and your dad holding a smoking shotgun in the doorway. "FUCK YOU! THAT’S GONNA BRUISE LIKE A BITCH TOMORROW!!"

"NO NO NO, PLEASE PLEASE. I'll do anything you want but please don't hurt my family." You clung to his striped vest as hot, fat tears ran down your face. 

His cheeks flushed at the sight of you sobbing, begging on the ground. He bit his lip as he fantasized about all the things he could do to you here and now.

"Stop! His skin is turning red! You're making him angrier!" Michael called.

"Shut up you horse-shit eater! Ah!" He cried as your mom rushed in and sprayed him with holy water. A few places on him started to blister like a burn. A few on his right horn and arm and one on the shell of his ear.

"PLEASE! ILL DO ANYTHING!" You begged, wrapping your arms around his small waist.

"I'll spare them if you vow to never contact them again. And I get to do whatever I want to you tonight."

"Deal!"

"NO!" Several members of your family shout. He envelopes your hand as a fiery illusion overtakes both of your hands and he pulls you into the fireplace.

Notes:

Yep, your dad has a shotgun now! Yay?j

[meanbossart]

Misc. Ask compilation

These aren't all of the asks I want to reply to, just some that I can answer relatively quickly to clean the ol' inbox out before things get out of hand. Thanks for your patience!

HAHAHA THANK YOU FOR PERUSING AROUND and for enjoying my work! I had a... Weird Gale experience my first playthrough which led to his characterization being what it is in my comics. Here's the beat-by-beat of all the shenanigans: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/740827466716807168/alright-i-am-like-90-sure-there-is-one-line-in-a

And here's just some of my personal thoughts on him! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/736193145686114305/can-you-tell-me-more-about-how-you-would-make-gale

I would be lying if I said I'm not conflicted to know my style still bears some remnants of my edgy teen roots (not your fault not noticing it though, you aren't the first and won't be the last) BUT... That comic did mean a lot to me as a youth, so I guess I should be proud 🤷 and honestly it is a little cool that such a thing would survive for so long in what I do, crazy how that works.

LMAO, re: the bottom/top debacle, I was honestly so surprised to see people react to it like it's something novel. If I ever expected to get any push back on the matter, I thought it would be from people assuming DU drow was the top and taking issue with how violent and big he is (and yknow, some people are weirdly protective of Astarion as if he isn't a sneaky murder machine rippling with lean muscle)

Very disheartening to see that mindset still so alive and well among young people, but I guess it just means I gotta draw DU drow throwing more back and Astarion drooling over more ass until the stereotype is forcefully banished out of people's minds!

(more asks below the cut)

"Sleeper agent activation phrase" absolutely took me out, Thank you so much LOL

YEAH I got it pretty late though, Astarion had already told my durge that he was a vampire of his own accord (and the response was, of course, "no duh") I forgot wheter this happened before or after the first romance scene triggered, but I think after.

Since this was after DU drow decided he was gonna fuck him out of pure contrarian spite and was shamelessly laying it extremely thick, He happilly let Astarion drink his blood. Hell, he was probably a little Too Eager - the guy likes pain and he likes letting people he trusts do with his body whatever they will, and while he didn't yet trust Astarion at that point, that event might've very well reminded him of something from his past that planted a seed which would eventually grow into his genuine affection for the guy.

Ah, he definitely got a half-chub as it happened too. I'm sure Astarion noticed it and just walked off rolling his eyes and thinking "eugh of course" lmao.

Hello!!!

Oh man, I grew up fascinated with horror things. I remember from a very young age just looking at the covers and backs of horror movies at the film-rental even though I wasn't allowed to watch them. I was also easily scared but I sought those things out anyway - I think i just enjoyed the visceral reactions it drew out of me and was always curious about most things taboo.

When I got access to the internet that just opened a (very unfortunate) door to all things vile and awful like it did for so many people at that age in time. Though my tastes have changed a lot since then (Less August Underground, more The Devils kind of guy nowadays) my stories and art are just always going to fall into a horror-y category because I just... Don't think there's many better ways to showcase the human experience and emotional range without many of the elements native to the genre, and I'm all about that.

Thank you for your question and your sweet words, have a good week yourself!

I did a little write-up about that over here! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/742508493562593280/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

That's the result of a scene that happens relatively early in the story I'm writing ("A Novel Experience" on Ao3).

{SPOILERS} DU drow accidentally passes out on a blade which puts a relatively deep gash on his hip. Meanwhile, Astarion is weakened and starved after certain events that transpired the prior night. They have a private exchange both in a somewhat hazy-state of mind and Astarion ends up prodding and prying at his wound while feeding, so it's a laceration and bite mark that just scarred over badly.

Elves apparently don't grow body hair so never LOL guess they'll just have to slip&slide up on each other for heat

[normal-thoughts-official]

A few questions:

1- Why the fuck was Astrid in Trystan's room?

2- In fact, why was Astrid even in the palace, considering Vasili said she was going to be at the opera?

3- "Sebastyan was in the palace gardens at 7pm" girl what were you doing at the devil's sacrament

4- Why was Astrid sitting on that information, and why is she so eager to point us in the direction of Sebastyan? (This is the second time she directly draws our attention to him)

I keep going back to Juliana calling her ex possessive and creepy and MC saying that whoever she dated was dramatic and intense or something to that effect... Both of these descriptions fit Astrid, honestly, better than Sebastyan. And I can see her killing someone for petty revenge easier than I can see Bas doing the same

This is also at least the second time we're discussing sensitive information and Astrid just so happens to be there (first time was when we were talking to Olivia). Also, her "ohh I'm so silly and airheaded" act is a little too thick (I'm sure this has been said before) and maybe this is reaching but I find it odd that they keep reminding us that she's bisexual that often. Most bisexual LIs in choices didn't get more than an offhanded mention of their bisexuality, yet this secondary character reminds us that she's into women every 5 minutes. Why would they do this if it weren't plot relevant?

Also, the fact that Bas said "you've been breaking my heart every day of my life" implies there wasn't a time when they were together. So that's actually a point against him being the ex

All in all... I think it'd make sense for Astrid to be the ex. The only hiccup to that theory imo is that the first scene makes it pretty clear that the murderer was the ex, and I have a hard time seeing Astrid getting her hands dirty. She'd probably outsource that kind of thing. But it's also not impossible considering she's kind of. Well, spiteful

The motive to kill Nadja is still more flimsy... But as the third in line she has reason not to want the Act to pass, and Nadja's murder could have gotten rid of that, Trystan, and Lydea if they had bought that Lydea was the murderer and trying to frame Trystan. Astrid had no way of knowing Lydea would have an alibi since her alibi was precisely that she would be tailing Astrid. I also didn't forget that Astrid just so happens to have "lost" her royal dagger... While skiing, an activity where it's a known good idea to have a dagger on your person

All in all... I'm not sure if that's the direction they're going but I think Astrid is a strong candidate for Juliana's ex at least

[vinxwatches]

watching good omen season 1

ep 1 pilot

haven't seen a lot of it, mostly that people like it, that it's made by people people really like and that it's gay (or at least people make it gay) so you know, good pick for me. and i just watched to animations/animatics on youtube with bad endings and bad endings fuck me up, so hopefully this is happier. intro is a fucking banger. also god has a fem voice? nice. accurate skin colour for the earliest humans. not surprised, but appreciated. making fun of theology and great banter? i love it.

ominous picnic basket. oh... actually quite biblically fitting it seems. i REALLY hope they don't expect me to remember these names too well. many of the characters seem fun though.

of course the american politician says bs like "a regular y chromosome son". which i'm sure has not been tested as you 1: don't know the gender yet. 2: phenotype does not denote genotype.

i wonder who and how they'll figure out who has the wrong baby. "i don't recall what horror of history we had a lunch over, but i do recall what we had." the BEST dynamic.

will they even figure out they got the wrong one? ok, i know that working with an actual 5 year old would be a nightmare... but that kid is like 12.

well done making both heaven and hell look like shit. do you want grime overpopulating or empty, liminal, office spaces?

brilliant end of episode 1.

ep 2 the book

damn the forces of hell are so bloody rude and evil. and so many quick jokes.

question: what are the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse supposed to be in christianity? both biblically and in modern belief? they are separate from devils and angels.

i love a witch that also uses an ipad in her rituals.

"sorry, right number" seriously the humour in this show is so brilliant. i really hope the story is able to match it.

ep 3 hard times

a black knight shrugging is way too funny. i love these two. just two old friends helping each other out, it's just that that's diametrically opposing one another. the angel doing some tempting, the demon some miracles. and upper management doesn't care.

awh, they are just so cute together.

excuse me you are playing intro now? 28 minutes in? that's not an intro. that's a bloody intermission!

they really succeed at making heaving seem so extremely bad. extremely wide shot or extreme close-up. it's so incredibly uncomfortable.

the prime minister has a nice flat chested fucker in his bed.... good for him if he's not cheating.

"mend it all"/"end it all" whispers. really neat.

ep 4 saturday morning funtime

of course he was condemned for nothing more then asking questions.

ah, they got rid of pestilence to replace them with pollution. it's a good change, but feels pretty pre 2020.

oh no, i find his death so sad. he had a love, why kill him? i know the apocalypse is coming but still.

i still really hope that the presidents son turns out to be trans to just break the things he said at the start. then again it wouldn't really work as it's not the kids he said it about. idk, i guess i hope of screen son turns out to be trans to spite the person that'll never know... yea i'm holding out hope for something that doesn't matter.

azi being send to heaving is SO bad. his bookshop possibly burning down is emotionally worse. it was going to be the last episode of the day. but i started watching because i couldn't deal with bad endings, so i guess i'll have to watch one more.

ep 5 the doomsday option

Azi going full rogue (finally).

man that's the most obvious cold reading ever.

the guard reads a neil gaymen book. cute.

sir... your car is... more then a little on fire.

ep 6 the very last day of the rest of their lives

are we doing a flash back episode for the last episode of the season?

oh, please let him rebuild the car just like i want the bookshop rebuild?

the way to defeat the end of the world is to believe and stand (and i hope work) for a world that wouldn't end. a bit on the nose but very nice.

and of course with Terry Pratched being involved death is not to be defeated, just not hastened along.

a kid not doing the one thing they were supposed to do.... there's a trans/gay message in there. also That's Just What Kids Do! you wanted an 11 year old to do what they were told? that's the first part of the problem.

for a TV series that's a pretty good satan. oh that is SO clever. kind of time fucking, but not really so long as you never introduce time travel so it's only true from now on. oh, is it a nicer ending then i though? YES IT IS! \o/

it "ends" as it starts: with a garden and an apple. ok, make it more explicit why don't you.

oh, you subtle bastards. i love it. other scene's now make more sense too, oh how i love it.

ok, yea it makes sense people go wild over this as it's really bloody great.

[bahamutgames]

ENCHANTED AFTERTHOUGHTS

Game: Enchanted Arms (January 12, 2006)

Console: Xbox 360

Rough day so far. Trying to unwind a little bit by taking care of some non-work related stuff. So I figure this is the perfect time to talk about Enchanted Arms! I beat this game on the first of September, but even 5 days later I can't stop thinking about it. There's something really special about this game and I want to be the one to tell YOU why you should check it out... Although maybe not cause I'll be talking about some spoilers I guess. Oops.

As always, this isn't a review yadda yadda ect ect. I'm just spilling my thoughts about how I felt from playing through it. Not meant to be a guide for if you should play, it's just me talking about video games. Always try ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I talk about here if it interests you at all.

SOME ENCHANTED ARMS SPOILERS AHEAD, IF YOU EVEN CARE U_U

Opening

I'm not 100% sure how I found out about this game. It was on youtube I believe. Either a video for underrated or bad RPGs I genuinely cannot recall lol. But I remember thinking it actually looked really cool! And last year I managed to find a copy for under $10 on ebay and decided, hey why the heck not? And gave it a shot. I made slow progress on it through August but FINALLY managed to wrap it up in September. Like I said earlier, I haven't stopped thinking about it since. It's a janky little game but I think it's a special game too.

Stuff I liked

So, first and foremost. This is an XBOX 360 JRPG. Which is a very odd era for turnbased RPGs to exist in just in general. They tend to be kinda janky and feel a little cheap in some ways? But this just makes them extremely charming in my opinion. They're so few and far in between on 7th generation consoles but ESPECIALLY 360. So I find them all to be extremely charming in spite of their flaws. And this applies to Enchanted Arms as well. All the weirdness and jank just kinda makes it more endearing.

You play as Atsuma, a hot blooded anime-protagonist type guy (who is also an honorary edgy badboy made in a lab! You love to see it.) As he goes on a quest to save his 2 best friends who vanished after a powerful devil golems is freed. He meets new friends and discovers a lot about himself while finding a way to save the world. Kinda basic stuff but the story does manage to do some VERY interesting things. It has a big moral on relying on others, not doing things alone, sticking to what you believe in no matter what, but also some tougher stuff like when helping others just becomes about helping yourself, ect ect. It's a lot of themes I really love and love seeing tackled and I think Enchanted Arms really does a good job with a lot of the ideas! I really loved seeing how the 4 main teammates grow and come to really trust each other. And I thought the whole finale and concept of Infinity was SUPER cool. Infinity was such a freaky and interesting final boss. And while I won't spoil it completely, the way you kill him was very cool.

The characters are certainly a high point in my opinion. Again, I LOVE Atsuma. I'm a huge sucker for protagonists and he has pretty much everything I love. Stupid? Check. Edgy badboy made in a lab? Check. Happy-go-lucky? Check. Has to do some soul searching through the game? Check. Evil fucked up arm that does crazy shit he can't explain? Check check check! But the other characters are good too! I liked Karin is a little annoying but generally I'd say her mean attitude is funny more than it is off putting. Plus the cooking scene was very good. Raigar is cool and I used him a TON during the game. And Yuki is hilarious, she may have been one of the funniest next to Atsuma. And they all have great chemistry, I loved how they tease each other but also help and comfort each other. It's a small party but I think focusing on just 4 teammates really helped the game out in the long run!

Even other things like just the world concept. The lore behind the golem wars is cool, I like the different city concepts and how they're based on real world locations. And even small world building details like how everyone hates Atsuma at school, to the point where there's an afterschool club for hating on him. Or how everyone loves Toya. There's neat concepts like a girl in another city who knows Atsuma, but you don't really know her unless you actually read the tie in comic. There's small world building stuff like that, which you'd expect from an RPG probably. But still! It's neat!

Outside of just the story, the gameplay is really interesting. The overworld is pretty standard walking around dungeons type stuff. But in combat is where it gets really interesting. It's turnbased, but rather than being just regular turnbased combat, it has strategy elements infused into it. So you actually move your characters around a grid, and your attacks only attack certain tiles on the enemy grid (if you've ever played Ikenfell, it's VERY similar to that!) So fights require a little bit more strategy and thinking than just mashing through them. Even basic enemy encounters can topple you if you're not playing smart. While this can make some encounters a total pain, believe me, ultimately I think it benefits the game more than hurts it.

And its not just the combat itself that's unique. The way stats work and characters upgrade is pretty interesting. You have all the usual stats and level ups you'd expect. But where most of your stat increases come from is actually a skill currency you get from battles that you can spend on upgrading stats or learning new moves. It's interesting! And allows you to customize your team how you see fit to match your playstyle! Which is nice! There's some other stuff like friendship points, combos, and overdrive attacks. But I'll be perfectly honest, I never got a grasp on what these were lol. But I think they all play into eachother and helping you build meter for super powerful EX attacks?

And then, something that kinda surprised me about this game. It has a small monster collection aspect to it? As you progress you can find golems to fight in the overworld who will join your team if you beat them, as well as golems you can buy from shops to join you. Golems act as additional teammates who all have their own unique attacks with unique tile layouts they can hit. You can also upgrade them with their skillpoints uniquely. So while they don't learn new skills, they can still be useful and serve to help fill holes in your team composition. For example, I got HUGE use out of the first golem you get in the story, Taigalion, because they can power up 2 teammates without having to waste those teammates turns. Or Eternity, a later game golem, who could use Gravity on some bosses to help me cheese the fights. It's neat!

Outside of all that? I'd say the highlights are the graphics and especially the music! The graphics aren't AMAZING but sometimes I think they can look REALLY good. Particularly in the environments! The Ice Castle, the Marsh, the Woods, even just the overworld field all look INCREDIBLE in my opinion! And relistening to the OST now, it's SO good! I forgot how many good songs were in this. Towards Reconstruction, Day at the Academy, and Reborn are all good ones. And the final boss theme was so haunting. And there's more I could praise about the visuals like the cool menu designs, that equipment shows up on your character (which is always a plus) and how cool all the different golems can look! But I think it might be time to move on!

Stuff I didn't like

Yeah it's not perfect. Starting with smaller stuff, there's a bit to be desired on the characters. Reading the manga that came with the game made me really wish they had opted for a more anime look for the humans than the slightly more realistic approach the game has.

And while I DO like the outfits of the main 4 teammates for the most part. I think Raigar's outfit is a little weird. And Makoto (we'll get to him) and Toya, Atsuma's 2 best friends, are just totally dripless. Toya mostly just cause of his rat tail, a better hair cut to fix it. But Makoto. He wears clogs what more do I gotta say?

Okay I'll go into it really quick cause Makoto is kind of a mess. He's a huge homophobic stereotype, I think having a gay teammates RULES! And having him be in love with another team mate is great. But now like this. He's the one with the blonde hair + exposed midriff on the right on the bottom image if you wanna go peek. But he's like, almost a sexual harasser in some ways and he's ABSOLUTELY played as like "ew gross he's GAY zomg 0_o" Even having a stereotype gay voice and GENUINELY saying "YAAAAAAAAAAAS" super high pitched during some of his attacks which is... So nuts that anyone thought this was a good idea. Spoilers but he returns later in the game with a new disguise that's supposed to be straight but has his chest fully exposed revealing a big scar. You failed this so hard, FromSoftware. Like. How? How did you fuck this up?

ANYWAY! outside of that there's some smaller gripes like the voice acting being not super great. Again a lot of the human designs are kinda meh. Stuff like that. But I think I really need to wrap this up by complaining about some serious gameplay issues I have.

So first off, the golems are totally underused. Once I got 4 teammates I VERY rarely found myself ever pulling out my golems again. Which is a shame cause that's such a big mechanic. While I don't totally mind I think being able to upgrade and customize the golems further would have made me care about them in the second act of the game. But even if I were still using them by that point, I doubt I would have been able to OBTAIN much more. I tried to get every golem I found in the overworld. But partway through the game the fights just become such bullshit. ALWAYS letting the golems go first, then wipe your team with instakill attacks. It's so stupid. So a lot of the golems got left behind in my playthrough anyway.

Then there's the gravity status. This becomes less of an issue later when Karin learns a status ailment curing move. But Gravity is a status ailment that means you can no longer move on the grid. EVER AGAIN. Unless you can cure yourself, status ailments never go away. Meaning if someone gets hit by gravity, even an enemy, they are STUCK until they die. Which is great cause it lets you cheese some fights if you get a boss stuck where they can't hit you. But if that happens to you? You're done! Game over!

But where this game really struggles is with balancing. Some fights are INSANELY easy. Letting you breeze through them with no issues. While some fights are insane slogs that take FOREVER to finish. Some big examples are 1-on-1 fights, which usually devolve into whoever goes first (which is ALWAYS the enemy in these cases) winning so you just have to spam health items. But there are more specific cases of weird balancing too. Such as the Warlord of Earth who randomly deals INSANE damage and takes minimal damage themselves. Dragging the fight out FOREVER. Or the first of 8 (YES 8) final boss phases which can only be hit by Atsuma but also instakills Atsuma? So I had to go grind in the fucking casino for HOURS just to build up the money to buy him enough skill points to raise his health high enough to survive that stupid instakill attack (I did 3000 but people were suggesting 7000 hp. It takes FOREVER to do the casino grind by the way. I won't describe it here but good lord.) And it'll always be just for stupid little reasons that you get totally knee capped during a fight like this. It's frustrating. You wanna save your money for weapons and skills but ultimately you kinda need to spend tons of money on items just to be able to survive tons of bullshit.

Now I will say, for all the bullshit with balancing and just roadblocking you with bullshit. Enchanted Arms does a good job at making sure the enemies play the same game as you. Which is something a lot of games struggle to do. Enemies are all susceptible to status ailments, even most bosses. Enemies ALSO have to manage how many attacks they can do before they must recharge like you do. They're susceptible to the same weaknesses you are. Which is nice. Again a lot of games don't do that. But Enchanted Arms does which makes the game just that tiny bit easier thankfully.

I have some other complaints, like, it's an expensive ass game to clear. Requiring TONS of money to buy everything you need, which leads me to believe the casino is required in a weird way which sucks. Or how there's a weakness system but it kind of makes no sense? (If you're weak to something, it means they're also weak to YOU so it's kind of pointless imo). Or the insane amount of tutorials the game tries to give you which ALL devolve into "go here, press A. Done." It's actually more insane than a Mario & Luigi game lmao. But I think we're done here.

Final Thoughts

As I kept writing more and more things to praise and criticize just kept popping into my brain! There's just SO much to say about Enchanted Arms. I'm kind of shocked. There were times I genuinely wanted to snap the disc in half. But now that all is said and done. I really can't help but look back on the adventure fondly. I still feel like I have more to say. I feel like this game is weirdly influential but no one realizes it cause no one played it. I feel like it's such a good game and deserves more attention (IT WAS REMOVED FROM THE XBOX STORE BOOOOO BRING IT BACK) but at the same time it is a clunky game with a lot of short comings. But I still liked it a lot! I'dunno! It's a game that gave me a lot to think about and I think I'll be thinking about it for a long time coming.

At this point I've played 4 Xbox 360 JRPGs. Blue Dragon, Lost Odyssey, Enchanted Arms, and Tales of Vesperia (which I played the Definitive Version but still it started as a 360 game lol) and honestly excluding Lost Odyssey which I hated despite popular opinion. They've all been VERY good. Even Lost Odyssey had high points when it wanted to. So I'm honestly kind of tempted to try and track down and play every 360 JRPG I can get my hands on. Again, it's just a fascinating era for a genre I love. We'll see!

===

Thank you for reading! This one feels SO messy but my brain is so filled with this game that I really had to write about it and get it out of my head aha. I appreciate you even just skimming through or even just scrolling all the way to the bottom. Look, if you clicked the link, I appreciate it, okay?

I'm having a rough day at the moment, but honestly I'm so fed up and used to "the bullshit" as it were that I'm genuinely struggling to build up the emotions needed to be upset about the constant downpour of nonstop bullshit that keeps happening to me. So I'll just take that as a good sign and just try to ignore it. What happened can be fixed for a fee but like, GOD DAMN why do I ALWAYS have to do such massive clean ups for things just arbitrarily happening to me.

ANYWAY sorry to vent on gaming tumblr. I'm just a little heated like the Hot Blooded Atsuma! Am I right fellow Enchanters? (That's what we Enchanted Arms fans call ourselves.) Well, anyway. As always, you're welcome to follow me on twitter where I talk more about games I'm currently playing and thinking about!

That's all I got for you today! Go out and play a hidden gem!

[thatonecoryosimp]

My Best Friend's Dad. C!Schlatt X Reader. Smut

Part 2 HERE

Hey y'all, I'm trying to come up with a schedule for the Devil's Mercenary. I hope you guys enjoy this tho. I didn't proofread this, but y'know. Remember, requests are open, drink water, and stay safe.

Warnings: No pronouns used but afab reader. Age gap. Smut (duh). The word daddy is used like once, and like one line of degradation.

Date: September 26th, 2021

Tommy is my younger brother, I was about four when Dadza brought him home. So as we got older, we got into a lot of trouble together. Since the age gap between Tommy and I was so small, it meant we got on better than I did with my other brothers.

Whenever Tommy first began hanging out with Tubbo, I felt betrayed, like I had lost my brother, my only real friend. But then he started bringing Tubbo around the house, I think he was five at this point, and originally, I tried to stay spiteful. Make sure Tubbo knew I didn't like him.

But that changed when Tubbo handed me his most prized be plushie. I was sitting in a corner away from everyone, watching as Tubbo and Tommy played. He practically shoved the thing in my arms and told me it would make me feel better.

That's the day my opinions on Tubbo shifted, and I began hanging out with my brother and his friend. Tubbo soon became my own best friend. We did everything together. One day, a couple years later. He decided it was time to have a sleepover at his house.

I begged and pleaded with Dadza until he finally gave in. I was ecstatic as I raced to Tubbo's house with the boy right by my side. Dadza was lagging behind with an exasperated look on his face, but at that moment I didn't care. Tommy didn't get to come that day, he was grounded. Which made this better for me.

I knocked on the door and a pretty young man answered the door. He looked like he was in his twenties, perhaps twenty or twenty-one. Dadza didn't seem to notice this, as he just to him to make sure I don't die.

He introduced himself as Schlatt, Tubbo's father. I pointed out the fact that he was pretty young to be a father but he just laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

This went on for a couple years, up until I was twelve. Then Schlatt just randomly vanished like the Avatar. I remember the day clearly, Tubbo sprinted up to the house with tears in his eyes. His hair fanned over his face as he erratically knocked on the door. It was heartbreaking to see him like this, but it also pushed Tubbo and me closer, and I swore to myself I would never leave him, or Tommy.

I wasn't exactly fond of the idea of L'manburg, I was seventeen at the time, and didn't want to be a part of something that could take me away from having a normal life. So when Wilbur and Tommy came up to me with the proposition, I said no. Telling them I wanted no part in the creation of this glorious nation. But when they told me Tubbo was involved, I couldn't say no. I had to be there for him, and I could look after Tommy at the same time.

So with a sigh, I agreed.

We were getting ready for the election, Wilbur's face gleamed with hope as he looked out. My gut was turning and wrenching, I hadn't been here the past couple of days, I had gone out with Tommy and Tubbo to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Apparently, Wilbur had forgotten about it because when I got back I was yelled at and berated.

That's how I had ended up in the medical house, watching in horror as my brothers got chased out of their own nation, not being able to do anything but sit there. I don't know how long I sat there in that prison before the door opened. I was expecting it to be Tubbo, he was the only other person that knew where I was. But instead of my best friend, it was his dad.

My eyes widened as I looked at the man that had supposedly disappeared. I remember him helping me up and bringing me to the room he was staying in.

I remember him ogling me as I sat there.

And I remember the first words he had said to be in 6 years. "Look how much you've grown, and in all the right places."

I also remember the promise I made myself that night, to stay far away from Tubbo's father.

Which is why it still confuses me how I got here.

A moan tore from my throat as my back arched up.

"Fuck! I cried out as my hands tugged at the dark head of hair. His horns constantly poking my thighs. His hands were wrapped around my waist making sure to keep me securely on his desk. There was a huge mess on the floor, one I knew Tubbo would have to pick up later.

His tongue was working magic as he fucked me with it. His eyes met mine as he licked another long swipe up my folds. He pressed one last kiss to my clit before standing up completely. He pulled his tie from his suit as he stared at me with burning desire.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to my lips. His fingers beginning to tease at my entrance. I whined against him causing a chuckle to sound from the man on top of me. He pulled back with a smirk on his face. He pulled his cock from his pants and my breath stopped in anticipation. I looked up at him with glazed eyes.

I'm sure I looked like a mess, but I didn't care at that moment.

"You look so pretty like this," he mumbled as he brushed my hair back.

"Please..." I whispered, my eyes closed in shame. But that feeling was washed away whenever he pushed himself in me. I groaned as my head fell back, "gods."

His hips started moving tantalizingly slow, before beginning a rough pace. Moans fell from my lips as I felt him sink in me and pull out again and again.

"Fuck fuck fuck," I moaned as my arms reached up and around his neck. "Harder, please daddy harder."

I heard him groan slightly, "Stupid slut," he grumbled as his hands fell to my shirt. He pulled the fabric up revealing my boobs. His mouth latched onto a nipple as he began going faster.

My eyes were rolled back and my head was leaned back. The only thing to slightly snap me back into reality was his voice, "Cum."

Isn't it sad that's all I needed? My back arched further this time as my arms tightened around him. I heard a soft pop sound as he pulled his mouth away and pressed his lips to mine. His hips sputtered slightly before stilling. I felt the white, hot liquid spill into me as I moaned.

My breathing slowly regulated as I laid there for a second before my eyes snapped open.

Did I take my pill this morning?

~~~

You guys are crazy, I'm about to hit eighty followers. What the heck guys?

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

——————

There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture ­– a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.  

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.  

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

 —

 As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.  

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.  

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.  

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.  

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

——————————————————

(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

[yellowocaballero]

Human Relations Snippet: Jon and Sasha versus Bad Telenovelas

This is a birthday request from @hihereami who wanted something very Latin American and an excuse to show me her favorite shows. This takes place in early Season 3, before Jude Perry but with Sasha working at the office. Jon fudged some stuff. It features incredibly stupid office dynamics, bad relationships, and a shared history that produced two very different people. Happy birthday, Ami!

CW as usual for Human Relations: explicitly discussed transphobia, references to 19th century racism, and a depiction of a platonic abusive relationship. 

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means Jon needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing Jon for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

Sasha liked to be the smartest person in the room.

The problem with people like Sasha was that, very frequently, they were the smartest person in the room. For seventeen years of her life Sasha had been remarkably and thoroughly assured that she would go places, she was really going to make all of us proud, she’s going to take care of us in our old age, Mrs. Pérez’s son just wastes every day with his girlfriend but here you are, studying all day with your complete lack of friends! 

Once she skipped town - well, town, country, Americas, oceans - all of that had been replaced with shiny grades and the bragging rights of Oxford and the implicit looming pressure of her scholarship. Sasha had always been the smartest person in the room. She couldn’t afford anything else - not if she wanted someone to care, not if she wanted to get anywhere in life. 

Every adult was somewhat of a child inside: happily ignoring a toy until it was taken away, at which point they would scream and scream. And when Sasha didn’t feel like the smartest person in the room - or, worse, others didn’t see her as the smartest person in the room - there was nothing tolerable about it. 

Upon retrospect, workplace and academic discrimination, in addition to some healthy insecurity, bothered her so much that she sold her soul to the devil about it, but apparently this was an semi-common occurrence. Abuela had been right. Teach Sasha to doubt her again. 

Mrs. Pérez’s son probably hadn’t accidentally sold his soul to the devil. He and his girlfriend were probably happy with their hard working but low-paying jobs, their cute little smattering of babies, and their mass every week. They’d have long, happy lives, and the amount of life-or-death situations they were put in were probably no more than usual. 

Well. Sasha would literally rather die than do that, and that resolve had been tested very thoroughly. She stood by it. Sasha had never regretted a decision she made in her life, besides the ones that sold her soul to the devil, and also maybe some things about Tim. But most of her decisions were good. And even if they weren’t good, she stubbornly stood by them.  

That’s why this was difficult. For all of Sasha’s insecurity reasons that, to be fair, had mostly drifted into the background of her life while she had been on the run for murder. And because it was Martin. 

“Sasha, I’m not sure what help I can give you.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Please?” Sasha slid into the seat across from Martin, giving him her best big cow eyes. “Don’t hog the emotional manipulation. You’re the expert in making Jon do what you want, just...work your magic!”

Martin looked up from the statement he was organizing shot Sasha an extremely flat look. Martin was extremely good at looking extremely unimpressed. “Because I’m the one who can magically make people do what I want.” 

Sasha winced. “At least you didn’t sell your soul to a demon about it?”

“I know you tell yourself a lot of people do that to make yourself feel better about doing it, but literally nobody does that.” At Sasha’s double wince, Martin sighed. “Don’t listen to Jonah. You didn’t do anything a normal, non-satanic person wouldn’t do. If I could…” Martin trailed off slightly, staring a little in the distance, before shaking back to himself. “I’m not helping you manipulate Jon. That’s my place in this ecosystem.”

“Then we should team up,” Sasha wheedled. She reached into her briefcase - which nowadays contained little more than alcohol and Statements, she wasn’t sure that Georgie had been a good influence on her - and yanked out the print-outs before slapping it on the table. “See, I did research!”

Martin slid the papers closer to him, leafing through them quickly. Sasha waited for him to look very impressed and appreciative of how socially competent yet intellectual she was, but he didn’t look very impressed at all. “ “Help someone in an Abusive or Controlling relationship”, ‘3 ways to support someone stuck in a controlling relationship’, ‘How can I help someone in a toxic relationship’...”

“You aren’t going to deny it, are you?” Sasha asked heatedly. “Because Tim just does not get what I mean no matter how many leaflets I show him because he ‘framed me for murder’ or whatever -”

“Do not pretend as if you’re forgiven him for the murder thing.”

“I fucking hate his guts over it. I will never, ever forgive either of them.” Sasha’s heart spiked in her chest, and she forced herself to take a few calming breaths. “This is a problem. Jon and Jonah are a problem. I don’t think we’re in a position to take on Jonah right now - even if I am working on it. But Jon is a weak link here. We know he’s impossible to kill -” At Martin’s extremely alarmed look, Sasha quickly elaborated, “ - and I wouldn’t want to, although he would really technically deserve it with all of his human rights violations. It would be far easier, and a better use of our resources, if we got Jon to our side. Then hopefully those two could...blow each other up, or something.”

Martin stared at her, expression implacable. Sasha became abruptly aware that she had just threatened to blow up this guy’s semi-boyfriend, and resisted the urge to apologize. She wasn’t apologetic. This was what she had to do, and Sasha always did what had to be done. It didn’t matter if she hated Jon so much that she wanted him dead, when he would be more useful to her alive. It doesn’t matter if she knew that, deep down, Jon was an exceptionally kind and caring person who loved very deeply, and that who he was now was a product of a great deal of influences mostly out of his control. If he was who Sasha was going to turn into, given enough time. 

She would stick to the plan. Sasha was going to get herself and her Assistants - including Melanie now, for some reason, who still refused to believe them about the psychic vampire thing despite how many times Jon confessed to it - out of this. 

Finally, Martin said, “I’m not going to deny it, Sasha. I’ve printed out all those guides, I’ve read all of the books, I’ve done everything. I’ve been working on this since - I think since I decided that I loved Jon more than I hated him. I’ve got Jon’s trust. And, way more importantly, Jonah is convinced that I’m harmless. He doesn’t pay any attention to me. I think he, like, secretly hates it whenever Jon has someone - whatever. But he is obsessed with everything you do.” At Sasha’s disturbed look, Martin shrugged. “He micromanages. Jon complains about it. I don’t think Jon gets that he really spills the cards on all of Jonah’s plans when he gets drunk and bitches about him.”

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means he needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing him for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

*******

Sasha was now willing to admit that Martin was smarter than she was.

It was always kind of a crapshoot when looking for Jon. He was only around the Institute half the time, probably less, and he refused to buy a cell phone so anybody could stay in contact with him. Tim had also flatly refused, because Jon would inevitably go to him for help with figuring it out, and apparently that could take hours. Sasha had volunteered to help Jon with accessing some online archives, and apparently she had explained it so confusingly that Jon was left refusing to touch a computer for a month. 

The farthest they could go was convincing him to take a Jitterbug for emergencies. Tim had taken great pains to explain the LifeAlert function, to Jon’s increasing lack of amusement. When Sasha had explained the adventure to Georgie, a known social media sensation over wine at their weekly girls night, she had found it hilarious and was very impressed. 

“Jon must be really attached to you guys,” Georgie had said, carefully nibbling at her luxury chocolate. Girl’s nights with Georgie were decadent. “I mean, not that he doesn’t talk about all of you nonstop, but he can spend ten years incorporating the Beholding into every piece of technology in the country while willfully refusing to learn how to work a computer.”

Sasha hadn’t missed Georgie’s word choice - deliberately refusing instead of an incapability to learn - but something else in the sentence was stranger to her. “I thought he was all about all kinds of knowledge.”

“I hear that the future can be terrifying for a lot of people,” Georgie had said wisely. “No matter how much of it they experience.”

“Is it terrifying for you?”

“Goodness, no.” Georgie had flashed her a bright grin - not so much a showing of teeth as it was a peek at a bone-white skeleton. “I always know what the future holds.”

 As it stood, Sasha got lucky today. She wasn’t forced to make Jon use his dreaded phone, and as a result she wasn’t forced to understand what the fuck Jon did all day. He was in the Magnus Institute, and when Jon was in the Institute there were three places he could be. 

The Archives, which Sasha had just come from. The Institute Library, occasionally terrifying the graduate students and more frequently helping them write their papers. Sasha had heard that they had communally begun sacrificing one grad student to his hunger per week in exchange for study sessions. Which...she should discourage...whatever, it was probably ethical. Or, at the very least, voluntary. 

The only other location Jon visited was Magnus’ office, where he could spend hours relaxing on the evil little bastard’s couch and annoying him. That was a last resort scenario, and was usually saved for complete and total emergencies.

Thankfully, today, Sasha found Jon in the ‘D’s. He was lying on his back, legs propped up on the bookshelf across from him, reading what looked like a very fascinating philosophy text regarding humanity’s search for aliens that Sasha silently resolved to borrow from him later. He didn’t look up when Sasha approached, so she carefully tipped a book off the shelf above him to fall on his head.

He yelped, dropping his book and sitting upright. He rubbed at his head, scowling, and Sasha saw that he had restyled his hair since the last time she had seen him. It had been growing long, but instead of cutting it and returning to his short twists styled into a loose curtain over his forehead he had pulled it back into a puffy bun. It was...somewhat more fashion forward than Sasha had ever seen from him. He had swapped his greatcoat for a primmer and shorter pea coat. Even his glasses were now thin-rimmed, circular, and kind of stylish. 

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, “has Martin started dressing you?”

“Martin can barely even dress himself,” Jon said automatically. “It was Georgie. She said I have to ‘clean up nice’ if I ever ‘want a man’. What does any of that mean?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird that your wife is setting you up with someone?”

“The concept of monogamy becomes ridiculous after the first eighty years,” Jon said, also automatically. Then Sasha’s words sunk into his brain, and he flushed. “Georgie and I aren’t together right now! And she’s not setting me up with - how can you even consider - what makes you think I’m a homosexual -”

Sasha stared at him flatly. Jon gave up. 

“Just let me know if I need to explain gay shit to you,” Sasha said. “It’ll cost a hundred pounds for me to explain queerness and three hundred if you want to learn about trans issues. Recompense for my emotional labor.”

“Young people think they invented these things. It’s ridiculous.” Jon stored the book back on the bookshelf behind him without looking, before carefully dropping his feet and rolling up. Sasha’s back ached in sympathy. Some people got all of the demon deal luck. “What does Martin say? ‘People are gay, Steven’? Historical figures are gay and trans, Sasha.”

“...are you a historical figure that’s -”

“I apologize for being a cisgender man that’s ruined your life, yes.” Jon arched an eyebrow at her as Sasha spent a second in confused agony over whether or not she was getting through to this guy. “I assume there’s no emergency, considering this conversation, so why are you here?”

There was no way to make this offer sound genuine. Jon would look for the catch - because there was one - or what she was trying to pull. There was something she was trying to pull, but she wasn’t about to admit it. 

In the end, Sasha settled for a fragment of honesty in her heart. Jon always had a way of drawing that out of people. 

“I haven’t watched my telenovelas in years. And I don’t know anybody else who speaks Spanish, and so much of it doesn’t translate that I refuse to watch it subbed with someone else, and they’re something I used to watch every night but now I haven’t seen them in years. And you speak Spanish. So.”

Jon stared at her, blinking owlishly, before his mouth twitched into a small smile. It flowered, moving from a hesitant movement of the lips into a real, close-lipped smile that sent his usually severe and sharp expression into something resembling excitement. Understated enthusiasm over novelty. 

How weird, Sasha thought. That you could be 200 years old and still find excitement over something novel. Over something new. Or, maybe, over someone choosing to trust you with a part of their lives. 

Or maybe it wasn’t that weird. How could someone keep living for that long if something as simple as this didn’t bring you joy? Sasha was only thirty four and she already felt so tired of life, all the time. Either tired or overwhelmed. She wondered if Jon still felt overwhelmed. 

“Sounds like fun,” Jon said. “Can I bring my notebook?”

“...yeah, sure.” Sasha paused, almost uncertain. “Hey. When you get to, like, two hundred -”

“Technically two hundred and twenty.”

“When you get to two hundred and twenty, do you finally feel like an adult?”

Jon stared at her, faintly surprised, before his expression settled into something a little wry. “Anybody who says that they ever feel like an adult is a liar. That’s how you know that Jonah’s full of shit.”

Somehow, it was almost a little reassuring.

First time she had ever said that about Jon. 

********

Their adventures, of course, were quickly throttled by practicalities. 

Sasha suggested just watching it on a laptop, but Jon’s expression had wrinkled in distaste. Jon suggested just watching it at her place, but Sasha liked to pretend that he didn’t know where she lived. Far too much intimacy, and somewhat hilariously Jon seemed very awkward about being alone with a woman in her flat. Also they were still working, technically. 

Martin, overhearing their argument in the Archives as Sasha collected her laptop, suggested Jon’s place, since it was pretty nice and cozy and close to the Archives. This forbidden knowledge, the shining proof that sometimes a little knowledge could be a terrible and traumatizing thing, the sheer mental image that imprinted itself behind her eyelids, shook Sasha to her core.

“For christ’s sake,” Martin said, “we are not fucking.”

“Sounds like someone who’s fucking our boss would say!” Tim called, from his position asleep on the break room couch. Sasha had spent roughly five hours yesterday convincing him that her plan to manipulate Jon’s psychological weaknesses was the most effective defense against evil fear powers that they had, and since he had lost the argument he was now resentfully napping on the couch. “If I walk in on you doing it in the office over a desk I’m going to fucking kill both of you and then myself!”

“Does this place have an HR?” Melanie asked, from where she was sitting at her desk actually trying to work. “Can I report all of you to HR? Please?”

“Jon can hardly fire himself,” Sasha told her sympathetically. “This shit will all make sense if you accept the fact that -”

“God, I get it, enough with the workplace hazing!” Melanie threw up her hands, as Jon unsubtly whispered something in Martin’s ear that made him blush. “You can all drop it now, it was never funny!”

“If Sasha just let me prove it to you,” Jon said, exasperated, “then you can see -”

Simultaneously, all three of them snapped, “Do not!”, cowing Jon immensely. 

Tim was no help in problem-solving, since he was resentful that Sasha was doing this at all. He had been spending almost all of his time lately throwing himself into research into the rituals, into anything that explained the strange and obscure rigor of this universe. Jon only explained as much to them as Jonah let him, and the most he ever did was mysteriously drop off boxes that held a lot of information about clowns and sawdust.

He always seemed a little surly as he did it. Sometimes he looked very guilty. Sasha noticed, every time. She couldn’t afford not to. 

All Sasha could try to do for Tim was help him. Their relationship had already been fractured by the way they kept secrets from each other, and although they both wanted to repair it they were forced to confront the fact that now they had to tell each other things. Accept help. Sasha hated acknowledging that she couldn’t do everything by herself, and Tim hated putting Sasha in the danger he relentlessly and suicidally threw himself into, but neither of them would let the other continue on their self-destructive path. 

It wasn’t sweet. But it was the most solid and tangible proof Sasha had that they loved each other. Maybe it was the most solid proof anybody could have: that, in life or death, they’d choose wherever you were. 

If Sasha followed Tim into whatever dangerous shit he was getting himself into, then he would be more careful. Tim wouldn’t survive it if he lost her, and she knew it. 

Between her and Tim, and Jon and Martin...why did all of their relationships feel like mutually assured destruction?

Eventually, Jon’s solution was, as usual, the worst one. Jon’s solution to every problem always worked, but it was always the one thing that nobody wanted to do and that everyone hated. But anything else was either vetoed or improbable, and Sasha refused to back out once she committed to something, so that was how Sasha stuffed a laptop and an HDMI cable into her bag to trail behind Jon as they rode the elevator up to the third floor. 

The number three rule of the Archives was not relevant right now (let Sasha have two cups of coffee before bothering her about how terrible their lives were). But the number two rule of the Archives was this: don’t fuck with Rosie. They both gave her their brightest grins as they passed, impeccably polite without actually asking if Jonah was inside. Rosie smiled munificently at them and complemented Sasha on her heels. They were in. They were now breaking the number one rules of the Archives. 

The number one rule of the Archives was, of course, this: never talk to Jonah Magnus unnecessarily. 

On the bright side, from this perspective Sasha could see how Jon worked his magic - that is, how he always entered Jonah’s office through kicking the door open and infuriating the other man tremendously. He actually took the time to open the door a crack first, completely silently and almost imperceptibly, before crashing it open in as annoying a way as physically possible. 

“I need your fucking office!” Jon called. 

When Sasha poked her head in behind him, she was treated to the sight of a terrified employee cowering in the hard plastic chair in front of Jonah’s desk. Sasha was well aware how that chair could feel like an electric chair. Across from him, Jonah looked distinctly unamused, already kneading his brow. 

“I’m in a meeting, Jon.”

“Good for you.” Jon pointed at the door, and the employee silently scurried out. “Not anymore. Now fuck off, I need your office.”

Impossibly, Jonah looked even more unamused. “Fucking your Archivist on my desk in the middle of the day is a bit beyond the pale even for you, Jon.”

Sasha was immediately so fucking disgusted that she switched into Spanish and called him a great deal of incredibly rude things for an incredibly long period of time. 

Talking over her, Jon said, “Take out your resentment over 1899 on someone else. We want your television, we’re watching Sasha’s programmes.”

“Right. Like how you and that boy Martin are always watching programmes -”

“Me cago en tu puta madre--”

“Honestly, Jonah, just because you had all of those men over for revision of your manuscripts doesn’t mean everyone’s as euphemistic as you are. And Sasha, that’s remarkably vulgar.”

For the first time, Jonah looked alarmed. “What is she saying?”

“Sólo porque tienes un rabo chiquito -”

“Go learn Spanish.”

“Ms. James, this is a professional office, and -”

“Melanie’s fucking right, we need a fucking HR.” Now this was a matter of pride. Sasha flounced into the office, collapsing onto one of the dumb uncomfortable leather couches facing one of those screens that rich people had in their offices to show their powerpoint slides or whatever. “I’m going to Stare you to death if you don’t leave us alone to watch telly.”

Hilariously, Jonah looked at Jon, alarmed. “Can she do that?”

Jon opened his mouth, before Sasha shot him a look. “She’s progressing amazingly rapidly. At this point, not even I know what she’s capable of.”

What a wingman. Jonah looked faintly uncomfortable, but he went back to his computer anyway instead of doing the rational thing and getting out. “This grant is due in three days, Jon, and I have no time for your little fancies. Do what you will, but leave me out of it.”

Sasha was not thrilled at the prospect of Jonah fucking Magnus hanging out in the background while Sasha and Jon watched telenovelas. She’d be outnumbered by the evil fear demons, for one. But Sasha had a sneaking suspicion, and maybe if she couldn’t genuinely stop this guy’s evil plans she could annoy him to death.

At the very least, it would make her feel better. Sasha was beginning to recognize the value of anything that just made you fucking feel better. Maybe Tim was onto something with constantly being a giant bitch all the time. 

“Ignore that cunt,” Sasha said in Spanish, catching Jon’s attention as she stood up to plug in the HDMI cable and turn on the television. “I got crisps and chocolate in my bag, I’m putting on Marimar.”

“Is she insulting me again?” Jonah asked. “Jon, what’s she saying?”

“I’m afraid I only consume trauma,” Jon said, also switching to Spanish. His accent was fucking bizarre. He sounded like her great uncle, or an even worse version of Sucedió en La Habana. At her boggled look, he elaborated, “The Witness gifted me with understanding of all languages very early in my development, but it bestowed verbal fluency in...1910? Perhaps? I’m afraid that without a little practice and frequent use I’m a little bit stuck there. I was able to beat my Chinese and Russian into sounding modern, but I’m afraid that people now tell me my Chinese is somewhat 1960s and my Russian is fairly 1980s.” He scowled. “Why does modernity change so much?”

“I think telenovelas can fix this for you,” Sasha decided. She paused a beat as Jon sat down beside her, a careful distance away. “The Witness? Is that a weird translation thing? You called it the Beholding last time.”

Jon shifted, a little guiltily. In English, he said, “The term Beholding’s better...it’s more academic, and more people use it…”

“What are you two -”

“Is ‘The Witness’ your word?” Sasha asked, and to her horror she found her tone almost gentle. It was almost easier, in her own words.

This time Jon truly looked uncomfortable, and he shifted back into Spanish - perhaps, Sasha thought, because Jonah could not understand it. “Smirke contributed all of the nomenclature for this, and he never...well, none of Jonah’s little circle liked me very much.”

“Wow, wonder why.”

“Exoticism only gets you so far, I suppose,” Jon joked weakly, before sharply swerving the subject. “I always felt as if it gave me its own name. When I began to understand, really understand what it was and how we could feed each other...I felt as if it told me. And that’s what it told me. So it’s always been my name.”

Hm. Sasha wondered what it was like, to have your religion be - so tangible, so grounded. Sasha believed, and she had faith with all of her heart, but - well, you wouldn’t need faith if you had incontestable proof. Faith was about believing because you knew something in your heart. But Jon...when he had nothing else, maybe, he had this.

“I just put down ‘James’ because I thought it would make that small-dicked asshole more likely to hire me,” Sasha finally offered, her only equivalent for something like this. “Tell you what. Call me James Martinez, and I’ll curse the name of the Witness, okay? If you’d like me to.”

Jon brightened, and for a second Sasha saw her own faith in his brilliant green eyes. “My gift is shared with you, Sasha. Of course you can.”

It was not a gift. It was a terrible and disgusting curse, and it was one that Jon had inflicted upon her. But Sasha was playing nice...and this was knowledge, understanding Jon was knowledge that could save her life one day...and there was something strange about Jon’s hesitant and multi-barbed trust. 

It had to be the trust of somebody who had it betrayed a hundred, thousand times. But he gave it so easily, and he reached out incessantly. Sasha knew lots of people who cared too much, although she had never been one of them - Tim and Martin, for one - but she could already see how it was making them a little bitter and jaded. 

Jon wasn’t. Sasha didn’t know why. 

So Sasha kicked off her heels, tucking her legs underneath her as she pulled up her favorite episode of Marimar on her laptop. It was a comfort show, having context wouldn’t help, she had rights. 

“Okay,” Sasha began, a little aggressively, “we’re starting a lot of the way in, so I have to catch you up. Like a lot of telenovela protagonists, Marimar is a wholesome young girl who lives in a little sad hut shack on the beach and she can’t read. She’s raised by her grandparents and her dog talks. This is the essential premise of the show.”

“Wow,” Jon whispered, “just like me.”

“I - okay, you are not obligated to give me your backstory, but what?”

“Martin keeps calling me a ‘sad little Victorian orphan’,” Jon said defensively. “And dogs talk to me too!”

“...what do they say?”

“If you’d believe it, nothing interesting.” He paused a beat. “But Georgie’s cat is kind of a psychopath, if that helps.”

“That’s a stereotype against cats,” Sasha accused. “Just because humans don’t understand cat body language -”

“Oh, no, cats are lovely, my favorite animal. But the Admiral’s kind of a freak.”

“If you two are going to sit here and trash talk me in my own office,” Jonah said, aggravated, “then please at least take it outside.”

Actually, this was a great idea.

Sasha ran through the plot of Marimar, down to the love interest with the terrible chest hair (Jon and Sasha then got into an argument over chest hair that was so heated that Sasha suspected Martin had chest hair), the evil step-mother (they both agreed that women in soaps tended to fall within the madonna/whore complex), and the weird amounts of humiliation. Sasha loved to hate Mr. Douchey McChesthair in this one - he wooed Marimar and promised to raise her up from poverty, but he ended up ditching her when she wasn’t refined enough for him. She wins him back at the end with her nice dresses and inherited money, and they settle down with a baby and a big house. Sasha always hated the ending. Marimar should have become a career woman. 

“It’s massively cheesy,” Sasha warned, finally playing the episode and letting the cheery theme song play, “so don’t sit here and point out the logical inconsistencies. We know. It’s part of the experience.”

But Jon just arched an eyebrow, unbuttoning his own pea cot to throw over the back of the sofa and lounge in his seat. “Watching telenovelas, in the office of the Director of the facility where you work, with his boss, in London, is the experience? And we’re all - how do you put it - evil fear demons?”

“You haven’t met my auntie,” Sasha said darkly. But she ended up shaking her head too, picking at her stockings a little. “The experience is...eleven pm, and the whole house is dark. The kitchen light is on, this flickering yellow thing that pops and buzzes. There’s cicadas outside, and somewhere you can hear someone playing music too loudly. Dad’s in his ripped up armchair, snoring. Mom’s on the couch, reading a magazine. They’re only half-paying attention, but it’s late, and you feel like you never get enough time with them. So you sit on the couch next to Mom, and because neither of them say anything you watch the show with all of your attention, just happy to be near them...it’s family bonding, you think. It feels like it.”

Jon was silent, staring at her. Not fixedly, or intensely - just looking, as if he was waiting patiently to see if she would say anything else. But Sasha trailed off, picking at her stockings, until she forced herself to stop. She didn’t want to say anything else. She was worried that he would know what she wasn’t saying. He always did.

“My grandmother couldn’t read,” Jon said finally, and Sasha fought the surprise. Jon never talked about this, not in any specific words. “But she would darn clothing by the fire at night. She did it for the neighborhood and earned some extra money.”

“What about you?” Sasha asked, hoping it was a safe topic. “What did you do?”

Jon grinned at her, sharp and amused. “I got into trouble.”

They both turned their attention back to the television, and Sasha silently mouthed the words along with the screen as Jon paid rapt attention. 

It was later in the show, when Marimar was showing up all of the people who did her dirty when she was poor. She had a fine dress, lingering on the arm of her rich and kind of creepy father, and she walked around with her head held up high. Her old husband who treated her terribly saw her at the opera and he was stunned by how hot and cool she was now. 

“Good for her!” Jon said abruptly. “Go find someone better, Marimar!”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “She ends up with him!”

“What!”

Quicker than Sasha would ever have expected, Jon got wrapped up in the episode. He gasped with her at the right parts, cheered at the screen whenever Marimar said something particularly sassy, and they booed whenever Douchey McChesthair showed up. 

When Sasha glanced behind her - not that she did - she saw Jonah fixedly ignoring them. He was gritting his teeth a little. Every so often he would glance at the screen, obviously look terribly confused, then go back to his computer. 

When the credits rolled Jon declared this second-hand trauma, which terrified Sasha deeply but raised interesting questions about her own future diet. 

“It’s about the humiliation, fear, and voyeurism,” Jon told her. “Supernatural trauma and devastation tastes rather similar to these telenovelas.”

“...what do they taste like?”

Jon thought hard. “Taste, but if it was a feeling.”

“...what’s the -”

“What’s the feeling you have?”

Sasha was forced to concede the point, and put on another episode. 

In this one, Marimar’s new dad tied tragically, and she very cunningly has him sign all of his money over to her. Sasha cheered her on very enthusiastically, and Jon agreed that Marimar was the definition of girlboss, but he found it kind of a dick move. 

“I thought you hated pretentious, old money rich white Britons,” Sasha accused. She knew that Martin had been working on him and trying to convert him to socialism,, but it was slow going. 

“I do hate entitled, old money people,” Jon said shortly. “But it’s hardly illegal to work your way up the social ladder and improve your station in life. Marimar isn’t putting the work in, she’s just inheriting all of this blood money. If she doesn’t make something of her life then what’s the point in all of that suffering?”

“You do know how social mobility is a lie fed to the lower class by the upper class to keep them complacently participating in the system, right?” 

“I’m not saying many people do it,” Jon said, ignoring Marimar’s grotesquely fake sobbing, “but it’s possible. I’ve met plenty of people who worked hard and became successful.”

“Yeah, and those people were lucky. Most of us just sit around in poverty and suffer.” Sasha rolled her eyes, unwrapping her chocolate bar. “Not all of us can be Dr. Faust.”

“You didn’t sit around,” Jon said, turning to face her. Sasha didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her chocolate instead. “You were smart, you worked your way up, you got your scholarship, and now you’re part of something far greater than yourself. You took what happened to you and you used to make you stronger, just like I did. Anybody can do it if they work hard enough.”

Sasha’s teeth clamped down on the chocolate.

Abruptly, stupidly, she got angry. 

“I’m not better than the thousands of other trans women who got kicked out, Jon,” Sasha snapped, but Jon didn’t flinch. “I’m just luckier! I know I worked hard, but I’m not more - more worthy of what I have than the brave women back home who have nothing. And I’m not going to stomp on them to make myself feel better like you do!”

“I do not -” Jon started, outraged, but Sasha cut him off. 

“You tell yourself that you worked hard for the security, money, education that you never got as a child! But you deserved all of that! That’s shit that anybody who lives deserves. But because you think of it as some kind of stupid reward, then it’s something that can be taken away. And when what you have can be taken away at any moment, then you have nothing!”

She cut herself off abruptly, unwilling and incapable of saying anything more. There were lines you couldn’t cross with Jon, and lines that she didn’t deserve to cross no matter how callous he was. She couldn’t accuse him of forgetting where he came from, or of betraying his people. Sasha knew well that Jon had never forgotten, not for a second. 

He had just - twisted everything around. He had to justify to himself what he’d done, so he’d taken the truth and molded it to fit his own desires and call it holy. 

It had killed her. It had killed her, how Jon told her that they were the same, but he did all of this shit to her anyway. But maybe that was no surprise: Jon hadn’t done anything to her that he hadn’t done to everybody else, and he hadn’t made any justifications to himself about his behavior towards her that he hadn’t made about everybody else. 

You couldn’t live like he did with emotional honesty. Good people could do bad things - Sasha knew that better than anyone - but it required a truly disgusting level of willful blindness and cowardice that Sasha had never tolerated. 

“Nobody gave me being a woman,” Sasha whispered, too full of - something, to even look at Jon. “I didn’t take it from anyone. I didn’t steal it. It was something that I always deserved, and that I always was. And because of that, nobody will ever take it away from me.” She exhaled heavily, forcing herself to stop shaking. “Nobody can make me something I’m not. Not even you.”

Jon stared at her, toxic green eyes wide and something foreign in his expression. It looked almost as if he believed her. Ha. “Sasha, I -”

“I swear, it’s like you two are making an effort to be as intrusive as possible. Jon, can’t you control your own Archivist?”

Jon almost jumped, as if he had forgotten that Jonah was in the room at all. Something in his chest seized closer, and a year ago Sasha would have just called it a twitch. 

It wasn’t. It was an aborted, concealed cringe, seen only once before. But there was only one other person in this world who cared about that. 

“Jonah!” Jon said, switching back to English immediately. “Sorry, we were just - having a really heated discussion about - uh, about -”

“Brujeria and how it changed when adopted by members of the Catholic church,” Sasha said smoothly. “I think his weird compulsion thing is just advanced witchcraft.”

“Yes! Yes, of course - you remember, I took inspiration from p - pagan rituals, you know, for our early work. I think you called it -”

“Bizarre?” Jonah asked, arching an eyebrow. “Jon, there were bones involved.” Jon silently pointed at the human skull taking up proud residence in Jonah’s cabinet of curiosities. “That’s different, a friend gave me that.”

“ ‘Have you seen Barnabas lately, Jonah’, I said. ‘He hasn’t seemed to have written lately’, I said. ‘Have you grown distant?’, I said. And you said -”

“Yes, he was very distant,” Jonah said dryly. “You hardly complained. You hated the man.”

“I hated all of your friends,” Jon said. He was smiling, once again relaxed with his arm spread over the back of the couch. Sasha furiously bit into a chip. “Didn’t mean you let them die.”

“Yes, but he was your least favorite, so I figured there was no harm done there.”

Improbably, Jon brightened. He smiled again, a curved slash of the mouth that had always been reserved for Jonah. It always spoke of secrets, a private joke. “You do care.”

“I’ll care more if you stop chattering when I’m trying to get us funded for another cycle.”

“Whatever.” Jon turned to face the screen again, letting the smile fall into a curiously blank expression. “Next episode, Sasha?”

“Sure,” Sasha said slowly. “But it only gets worse from here.”

 It would never stop being weird how - well, maybe that was no wonder. How could Sasha begin to understand a relationship as strange and esoteric as theirs? Two hundred years in the making, forged by cruelty and passion? Two lives, intertwined so closely they fed in a parasitic loop, starving the other to feed themselves? 

“Oh, I don’t mind a little tragedy,” Jon said. He spoke in English, vowels carefully rounded, posh accent meticulously stretching his words. “It’s the most entertaining.”

Sasha thought about print-outs. She thought about a many-eyed, malicious tumor of fear and pain consuming humanity alive. She thought about the face of God, and the tired and resigned face of Martin. When Sasha spoke, she stayed in Spanish.

“Even though she gets married to Mr. Douchey McChestHair at the end?”

“I’m sure he’s not all bad,” Jon said, and wouldn’t say anything more. 

[sanjuno]

Meta Fic rides again

I'm a little stuck on how to word something in my Nano 2020 project so I decided to take a break by trying to read “Scum Villain’s Self Saving System” again and failed horribly because I got to the part when Binghe comes back and my interest died a quick and messy death for yet a third time. Someone write me a giant pile of gen-fic and LiuShen AUs to heal my heart.

Here, I’ll start us off:

Spite and Fury (or; PEDW is a hive of Scum and Villainy)

So bitter-old-man!Madara dies of old age after he passes his Epic Revenge Plot over into Obito’s keeping, and the Sage’s knockoff-brand cycle-of-transmigration peels Indra’s chakra out of Madara’s soul - which results in dying!Madara having a screaming ragefit that sends his spirit-and-chakra careening through the void between worlds

At which point shattered-and-fragmenting-more!Madara gets into an altercation with the System and since the System is a little bitch it tosses Madara into the worst possible Fate it can think of (see: PEDW)

Transmigration bullshit and Sharingan fuckery smash into each other in a gigantic clusterfuck of asspulls

Madara is missing bits because Indra’s imprint got ripped out

The Shen Jiu base soul is missing bits because torture and previous abuse of his character by the System

The resulting villain amalgamation is Not Pleased

Instead of landing in the divergence point chosen by the System - aka the Qi deviation fever shortly after Binghe arrives at Cang Qiong Sect – we instead have the jigsaw puzzle mashup of Mads-and-Jiu land in baby-slave Jiu’s body

The good news is Madara and Jiu stop fragmenting because they end up woven together - they’re stuck together as an almost-single person only with two different sets of memories

Character exploration is going to be an EVENT

Also the Madara part of them is really happy with the silky smooth hair

Also Yue “lets-Binghe-kill-him-because-he-thinks-Shen-Jiu-is-dead” Qi is cast is a much better light when compared to Senju “stabs-his-sworn-brother-in-the-back” Hashirama

So Mads-Jiu plays it close to canon for the first few years - the only real difference is that he tags his Jiejie with a tracking seal for after he escapes from slavery - he’s not leaving his ability to find her again up to chance or developing a reputation as a whoremonger if he can help it

When he gets bought by the Qiu is when Mads-Jiu starts being a manipulative little shit like we all know he is

Xanatos-pileup-or-bust!Mads-Jiu basically lets Yue Qi escape alone because he NEEDS Yue Qi to become Cang Qiong Sect Leader for his long-term plans to work properly

So Mads-Jiu warns Yue Qi that if he has to be CAREFUL because cultivating is dangerous and if Yue Qi comes back missing any pieces then Jiu will cut the EXACT SAME BITS OFF HIMSELF

And so Yue Qi is EXTREMELY safety conscious and the life eating sword drama is avoided entirely

Of course he’s also taking longer to reach his initial strength levels than in canon because he isn’t rushing

So there’s nothing like Yue Qi showing up early to trigger a plot divergence alert in the System

</mwahahaha>

Mads-Jiu is more pragmatic regarding Qiu Haitang’s so-called innocence this time around - and so he arranges for her to catch the Creeper Qiu bro abusing and assaulting Shen Jiu

Haitang is HORRIFIED AND DISGUSTED to see what her brother is doing to her fiancé and also TERRIFIED by the fact that he talks the entire time about how sweet it’s going to be when it’s HAITANG under him

The Qiu burn on schedule but Haitang kills her fair share - double Qi deviations FTW!

The system does not notice such a minor change in the background events - Jiu kills the Qiu, burns down their house, and Haitang survives the fire with vengeance raging in her heart

Mads-Jiu kills the demonic creeper that was hanging around because ew no and also keep your hands of Haitang

Again, it’s too close to canon for the System to notice - Jiu killed him in defense of a “childhood friend” so hahaha again

Instead of being used as a stalking horse by an evil master Mads-Jiu runs off with Haitang to track down and rescue his Jiejie

Shenanigans ensue

Afterwards Mads-Jiu “has an idea to help find Qi-ge” by asking around for him at the Immortal Alliance Conference

Of course there are more shenanigans and Yue Qi saves all three by claiming that they’re Cang Qiong disciples - so of course he drags all 3 of them back with him and wibbles at the current Sect Leader until he lets them all join

Still (mostly) following canon! Ha! So no “punishment” events get triggered in the System (which is mostly dormant because the Protagonist isn’t born yet XP)

Qiu Haitang was supposed to join a Sect! Jiejie got sold on schedule! Shen Jiu killed the Qiu and his “first master”! Yue pesters his Shizun into letting his sibling(s) join the Sect in an unorthodox fashion!

But the devil is in the details

And the devil’s name is Uchiha Madara

Jiejie ends up as Peak Lord for Talisman Peak because magic and seals saved her before

Haitang ends up Peak Lord for Hidden Peak because she refuses to be caught unawares by a dangerous secret ever again... also because she’s a mean sneaky bitch and owns it

Having more than one sibling for the Sect Leader to blatantly favour means less wholesale resentment directed at Mads-Jiu as well

However the Jiu part of them has memories from PIDW and also SVSSS - so he knows that shit is going to get horrible once Su Xiyan gets knocked up

Obviously the answer is to seduce all of his fellow peak lords into a glorious polyamorous clusterfuck so as to promote skinship and pack bonding and harmony among the sect leadership

(It worked for PIDW Binghe with his wives and SVSSS Shen Yuan with getting Bing-mei to chill his tits after all and nobody can trip you into bed quite like a shinobi)

And so Cang Qiong’s family aesthetics get rocked so hard that instead of panting after his Shizun baby disciple Binghe decides to seduce his peers...

... and his rivals

... and other sect’s disciples

... and the occasional demon

Mads-Jiu is really proud of his baby demon lord but makes sure not to single Binghe out - instead every Qing Jing disciple gets rewarded and punished at the same time

It promotes bonding! And teamwork!

And prevents the utter destruction of Mads-Jiu’s chrysanthemum via oversized demonic pillar!

There is totally going to be an extra where Mads-Jiu realizes that the average size of a male cultivators pillar is DANGEROUSLY EXCESSIVE

NOBODY NEEDS THAT MUCH PILLAR

Even HIS pillar hasn’t escaped the curse

BIGGER IS NOT BETTER!

How the fuck is he supposed to fight if he can’t even wear pants comfortably!?!?

(No wait come back Mu-shidi this shixiong is sorry it wasn’t mockery it was a perfectly reasonable tantrum that was a long time coming now stop sulking your dick is very pretty let shixiong make it up to you~)

And at some point there will be a wild Bing-ge who appears to cause trouble with a mirror that’s intended to temporarily transform people into the form of their last life - he aims it at the native Bingbing to get him out of the way so he can steal the “nice” Shizun

It would have been Pom time for Bingbing but Mads-Jiu pushes him out of the way

And cue giant explosion of dark Qi as a bonus expansion pack of Madara’s 10-tail Jinchuriki time with powers-and-memories gets downloaded into Mads-Jiu

Mads-Jiu the “Heavenly Demon Demi God” drops several mountains worth of flaming meteor rock on the invaders and then goes on a giant flaming skeleton rampage against Bing-ge

... Bing-ge has changed his mind he doesn’t want this Shizun take him back and oh gods the shrieking

How does he shriek so loud? Doesn’t he need to breathe?

... ok so Shizun breathes fire that’s good to know

Whelps time to bravely run away

And then the amassed sects need to figure out how to calm down the rampaging hell beast

The youngest Qing Jing disciple is brought out and told to cry for Shizun

Actually-a-broody-hen!Mads-Jiu whips around and starts fussing over his baby student

Because baby why are you crying stop it tell Shizun who hurt you and he will BURN THEM TO ASH

The last bit I have an idea for involves Mads-Jiu getting yanked though dimensions because Edo Tensei where he instantly twigs to what is going on and pushes the “righteous cultivator” skin to maximum strength

He shoves all the baby ninja behind him and keeps barrier spamming the zombie army - because ew no stay away from the children resentful corpses

Zetsu is included in the zombie army shall not pass smack down

Zombie!Tobirama is appalled because wut? Wasn’t this supposed to be Madara’s zombie? What is happening?

And I dunno something where he “notices” the resentful energy surrounding Danzo because stealing the eyes of the people you murdered is bad karma

So Mads-Jiu does a spirit thing and the ghosts of the Uchiha rips Danzo apart while screaming about his guilt in full view of the entire Village

And then Mads-Jiu goes home because filial little Bingbing came to get him and he’s not enjoying upending the shinobi social order nope not at all whom exactly do you take him for?

... Yes he’s done and ready to go back to his spouses now he’s sure the ninja have all learned better than to raise living corpses now anyway

The end

=/=

[wlntrsldler]

No Clue (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

PROMPT: Y/N and Bucky hate each other. Nobody knows why. Whenever someone asks, the pair just say, “I have my reasons.” Some think that something happened between them when Bucky was in hiding. Some think that Bucky did something to Y/N when he was the Winter Soldier. Some think that there’s no actual reason- they simply hate each other.

MASTERLIST

-

There was an ongoing bet in the Tower. What was the real reason as to why you and Bucky hate each other? The problem is, nobody really knew exactly why you two did. It was like an unspoken truth that you both kept to yourselves and promised to take to the grave. The only thing people knew about you two was that you knew each other before you both joined the team. But of course, everyone on the team had their own experience with Bucky and yourself, individually, more so terrible and potentially life-threatening experiences over a pleasant ones. 

“Can you not fight in front of the food?” Nat rolled her eyes, taking another spoonful of cereal to her mouth. “Your energy is upsetting me.”

“It’s not my fault Barnes doesn’t know how to say excuse me.”

“Who the fuck stops in the middle of the hallway?” Bucky hissed. “Like seriously? Who walks then just stops?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t look at where they’re going?”

“Again, your energy is upsetting me.” Nat said again, this time her tone harsher. “Stop bickering.”

“He started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did no-”

“I give up.”Nat stood up, taking her bowl of cereal with her to her own room. 

Bucky stared at you from across the table, his eyes burning holes through your skull. His nostrils were flared and you could see exactly where the coffee stain hit his white shirt. “So you’re not even gonna apologize for spilling coffee on me?”

You didn’t mean to make him spill his coffee. He ran into you, not the other way around. “I didn’t do shit to you, Barnes.”

“You spilled my coffee on me!” He exclaimed, waving his arms up and down to emphasize the stained state of his shirt. “And it was hot too. It burned me.”

“That sucks.”

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “You’re such a bitch, Y/N.”

“Thanks.”

He shook his head one more time before picking up his half-empty coffee mug and walking out of the dining room. You giggled under your breath, loving the way you were able to piss him off with the smallest things. He was so fun to mess with.

You can’t lie. Sometimes you purposely did things just to piss him off. What can you say? It was funny. Bucky always reacted so dramatically whenever you were involved and it was more fun pushing his buttons than doing the paperwork you were meant to be doing. You had a way of getting under his skin. You were the only one that had that effect on him so naturally, you took advantage of it. 

Bucky’s skin got irritated by this one brand of dryer sheets. He’d break out in small patches of rashes and he would always end up having to go get medical ointment to calm his skin down. Bucky was shy as is, so him, a 100+ year old super-soldier, chunky and built, having to make himself as small as possible to go unnoticed to buy some ointment was the highlight of your long, long days as an Avenger. So of course, whenever you did the shopping, you made sure to pick up that exact brand just to make him take that humiliating trip.

He also hated Strawberry jam, stating that it was too sweet for his tastebuds. You’d joke about how he probably had diabetes because of his old age- to which he would reply with his own witty comment. Just to spite him, you always picked up Strawberry jam, even if you were a Grape jam lover yourself. He would curse you, irritated that he wasn’t able to have his PB&J sandwiches because of your practical joke. The man was attached to the snack, it was borderline unhealthy. 

But, as fate has it, he was also the only one who had that effect on you, too. Just as much as you bothered him, he bothered you. He would purposely embarrass you in front of important people and find ways to make your life just that bit harder so he could have the final laugh. 

You were the only one in the team who drank almond milk, not being able to stand the taste of regular cow milk, so whenever Steve went grocery shopping, he always made sure to buy you a carton for yourself. And low and behold, you would drag yourself out of bed at around 11AM to make yourself some breakfast and you’d find Bucky in the middle of the kitchen, a smirk on his stupid face while he drinks out of the carton of your almond milk. 

You’d start yelling at him, calling him an asshole, a dick, and just about every name in the book. Steve would come rushing in, worried at all the commotion just to walk away disappointed because you and Bucky would be arguing again. Steve would just slide you a $5 bill to buy yourself another carton of milk, just for the same thing to happen the next day. 

You and Bucky had a special relationship, indeed. And only the two of you understood it.

- 

“Sam,” You laughed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Give it up. I’m not telling you.”

“Come on, Y/N,” He whined, trailing behind you as you walked out of the training room. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I am not telling you why I hate Bucky.”

This was a phrase you grew to memorize. It seemed like everyday someone from the team would practically beg you to tell them exactly why you hated Bucky. You were sure that they also bothered Bucky with their annoyances after they bombarded you. Thankfully, Bucky was smart enough, shocking to you, to not tell them a thing either. The team was frustrated at your stubbornness, wanting nothing else but to know what lies behind the mutual hate and absolute resentment for one another. 

You bid Sam a farewell and walked to your room, ready to take a shower. You looked down at your bruised knee from a mission for one second, not realizing someone was in the middle of the hallway to your room. You looked up to apologize but your sympathetic smile quickly turned into a scowl when you realized who it was. Bucky. “Get out of my way.”

“It’s not fun when you’re on the other side, huh?” Bucky smirked, referring to your encounter in the morning. “Now imagine getting burned by scalding coffee with that too.”

“Did you seriously wait in the hallway just for me to bump into you?” You tried to shove past him. His hard chest made that difficult. His feet were planted on the ground he stood on, not showing any signs of leaving any time soon. “You don’t have anything better to do?”

“I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“Fuck off.”

“I actually had something to tell you, if you would just shut your pretty little mouth for one second and let me talk.” You could practically feel his smugness. It was dripping off his voice like sweet, poisonous honey. “We have that mission together tomorrow. Or did you forget?”

“I’m a professional, Barnes. I don’t forget.” You replied, you took a sip from your water bottle, nearly moaning at the refreshing feeling of the cold drink. “I don’t get why they choose to pair us up knowing we don’t like each other.”

He finally moved out of the way, leaning against the wall to let you pass. “They know we work well together.” 

That was true.

Despite the way you two were at each other’s throats all the time, no pair could ever accomplish a mission as efficiently and flawlessly as you and Bucky. You shrugged before walking away from him, disappearing into the dark hallway, but not before you raised a finger up in the air for him to see. 

And yes, it was that finger.

Bucky chuckled when he saw you raise your hand to flip him off. You were truly something. He was about to retreat to his own room for the night when Sam saw him, running towards him excitedly. Oh, great, Bucky thought, here we go again. 

“Buck nasty,” Sam started, cocking an eyebrow. “Will today be the day when you finally tell me the history between you and Y/N?”

“Not a chance, Wilson.”

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” Sam groaned, punching Bucky’s metal arm in absolute annoyance. “For two people who hate each other, you two seem to have a mutual trust pumping through your veins. You remain loyal to each other over the rest of the team.”

“What can I say? Me and Y/N are an unusual pair.”

“You two are the devil’s incarnates.”

Bucky just laughed at the comment, silently agreeing. There was something devilish about the way the two of you kept your secret between just the two of you. There was a rush, like you were in on a secret that would blow the team’s minds. Quite frankly, if they knew why the two of you despised each other, they would be shocked. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Sometimes Bucky thought that the reason was so obvious, basic even, but other times he laughed silently at the reactions the team might have upon finding out. Such a shame that he’ll never know if they’ll actually respond as he imagined because the team would never find out about the truth.

-

“Okay, now that they’re off on a mission, any updates?” Tony asked, looking around the room. 

It became a tradition in the tower to hold these meetings whenever you and Bucky were off to a mission. The team did their own individual research about your past lives and reported back to the team before you two got back home. Sure, maybe, it was a bit overboard for them to basically hold a town-hall meeting just to find out information that they truly had no business even looking into, but what were they meant to do? You and Bucky both had hard exteriors that nobody could ever crack. 

Even Steve, Bucky’s oldest pal, was left in the dark by his best friend. Every time Steve brought you up, Bucky would just get up and walk away. Even when they were in potentially dangerous situations, midst missions and all. 

There was a time when Bucky and Steve went to Russia to capture a HYDRA agent. They hid behind a shipping container for a few minutes to get some protection before running back into the field of gunfire. Steve thought that there was no way Bucky could avoid answering the question now. But he was mistaken.

“So Buck,” Steve started, checking the surroundings to make sure they were safe for the time being. “What’s the story between you and Y/N?”

Steve stared at Bucky long enough to see the brunette roll his eyes. Steve heard some shuffling behind him so he turned to look, only to find nothing. When he turned around to face Bucky, he had already emerged from behind the shipping container into the open space, blocking bullets with his arm. 

Steve sighed, “If you didn’t wanna answer, you could’ve just said that, Buck.”

Because of that story, the team understood just what great lengths the both of you would go through just to avoid answering the question. So since neither of you would ever give them the time of day, they had to do their own research.

“Nada for me,” Nat groaned, throwing a stack of papers that lead to a dead-end onto the coffee table. “It was like Y/N was a ghost story, just like the Winter Soldier.”

“Okay, whatever they’re hiding might just be the cause of the possible end of the world because this is just ridiculous.” Sam stated, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Why are they so adamant about not telling us why they hate each other?”

“Who knows?” Wanda chipped in, shrugging and returning her attention back to her phone. She was one of the few who completely gave up on trying to figure things out, following Steve. She accepted defeat, realizing that the two assassins simply did not like each other. It never bothered her personally so she let it go. “Why are we still trying to figure this out? It’s been months. I say we give it a rest.”

“I agree.” Steve replied, nodding towards Wanda’s direction. “It’s their business, guys.”

-

You leaned back on the back seat, chest rising up and down, a bead of sweat rolling off your temple. You shifted your leg to get more comfortable in the small space in the car. You looked over your shoulder to look at him, a smirk displayed on his face as his breathing mimicked yours. 

“You good?” You asked, giggling after catching your breath. 

“Perfect,” Bucky nodded, reaching over your waist to pull you closer to his body. “Always so good with you.”

You playfully shoved him off, starting to clean yourself up. You would never admit it to him but you always loved to relish these short, yet sweet, moments that you two shared. Your shirt was on the floor, next to his pants and your hair was in disarray. The windows were fogged and the car smelled distinctly of sex and fresh pine, the car freshener that Bucky picked up in the liquor store on the way home, knowing what will happen next as it always happened after every mission. You looked out the tinted window seeing the outline of the Avengers tower. “How long do you think it will take for them to finally realize we’re fucking?”

You felt him shrug behind your skin. “Who knows? I thought we’d only have to keep this up for a few weeks but it’s been a few months now and they still have no idea.”

“Some Avengers they are.”

Bucky laughed at your comment, leaning over to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Agreed.”

[rdrhoe]

what I need 2/2 (part 1 here)

daddy dutch x fem reader

warnings: dom/sub, rough sex, choking, bondage, orgasm denial etc, all the good stuff :)

also on ao3

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

You stilled as Dutchs promise washed over you. What did he mean your punishment wasn't over? Surely that had been enough!?

When you tried to voice this to Dutch however, he responded with a sharp slap to the back of thighs, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glare when you turned back to look at him, agape.

"I decide when you've had enough, girl. Have we not established that already?" Dutch sighed at you, pawing and kneading at your reddened backside, before tracing his fingers through your slick folds, but never entering you or touching your clit.

You tried not to protest or squirm, aware of how furious Dutch still was with you. Usually after he was done spanking you he was fairly quick to pin you down and have his wicked way with you. Eventually letting you come after he decided you were sorry enough.

You could sense his fury in the way he was holding you, the way he was yet to call you his good girl. But you knew you had to earn that, and although you tried to take your punishment well, you could tell Dutch was less than pleased with your attitude. It mainly stemming from the fact that, sure, you were sorry, but you were still mildly pissed about your pride being bruised. Having Dutch treat you like a possession constantly, in spite of how if you really listened to your inner most self wants, you would find that you almost certainly had no issue with being Dutchs play thing, but it was like, hey, at least ask you first?

You pushed your inner brat down, going docile and pliant in his lap, deciding to allow Dutch to do whatever he wanted with minimal complaining.

"That's my girl" Dutch purred above you, in recognition of your sudden complicity.

Dutch pulled you up gently, cradling you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

"You know I only want what's best for you, don't you sweetheart?" Dutch asked you, caressing your skin.

What's best for you, you thought bitterly, but instead bit your lip and stared up at him with big, adoring eyes.

"Yes daddy," you answered quietly.

Dutch hummed, "Good girl."

Oh, there it was. Those words. The ones that went right through you. Giving you goosebumps, and making your core heat up and your heart flutter. You tried to hide your smile in the crook of his neck, you adored being his good girl. At this point, you were fairly sure in yourself there wasn't a thing Dutch could inflict upon you that you would have an issue with, just as long as you always remained his good girl.

"Now then, sweetheart," Dutch began, once again sounding horribly wicked. "let's find out just how sorry you are"

And with that, you were suddenly tossed onto the bed, landing on your ass with a squeal. Dutch straddled you, grabbing your wrists and tying them to the headboard with some rope.

You tried not to wriggle around too much as you gazed up at him. You knew the rules; the more you fought against a punishment, the harsher he would be with you. Usually you'd struggle a little bit, both of you enjoying the battle you knew you would never win. But this wasn't a usual occurrence. There had only been a handful of times Dutch had truly been angry with you, and in those moments, you knew your only hope was to be as obedient as possible.

Dutch finished tying your hands, looking down at you with a look you couldn't decipher. Bringing his down to your breasts, squeezing and slapping them, before pinching both your nipples. Hard.

You tried and failed to suppress your squeals, the pain causing you an unfathomable amount of pleasure. Your body squirming beneath him out of your control.

"Such a pretty little thing... and all mine, isn't that right my love?" Dutch asked you, the slightest of smirks on his face. He loved this, loved when you knew you had crossed the line and he was going to put you back in your place.

"All yours, daddy" you agreed, trying to keep your voice steady, though it came out as a strained whisper.

Dutch hummed, apparently pleased with your response. He moved lower down the bed, tapping your thighs in order for you to stretch them out for him.

You displayed yourself appropriately, legs spread wide for Dutch. You pussy glistening and swollen with want. The look in his eyes made you shake. Still annoyed, but filled with hunger and lust.

His hands ever so slowly made their way up your thighs, heading towards where you so badly needed to be touched. Dutchs eyes remained glued to your expressions the whole time. He loved seeing what he did to you. In all honesty, if he could have you tied beneath him like this 24/7, desperately dripping wet for him, well, that's his vision of heaven on earth.

Dutch ever so gently began sliding a finger around your cunt, enough pressure to make you dizzy with want, but no where near what you really desired. Slowly, too slowly, using just his finger tip to enter you, just for a moment, before removing it and bringing his pad down on your clit. Again, just for a moment. The pleasure being overwhelming and instantaneous. You were moaning and withering beneath him in seconds, begging for more. He repeated this, ignoring your sobs and pleas throughout it all.

"... Daddy," you whimpered eventually, not having enough stimulation to bring you to your peak was driving you insane. "please... I need, more... Please"

Dutch ceased all movements then, his sinister smile could send the devil packing.

"Oh?" he answered, horribly amused. "And do you think you deserve that, princess? You know only good girls get to come"

You stilled then, trying to figure out if he was serious. He wasn't going to leave you hanging all night was he?

You stared up at him, trying to determine the best route possible for you.

"Dutch! M'sorry, I.. Daddy, please I just, I need..." your wrists were straining against your bonds already, panic beginning to set in that he'd only just started his ministrations on you.

Dutch laughed at you. Cruel and mocking. Before his hands reached for his belt buckle, and he released his hardened length.

You gaped at him, astonished. He never usually fucked you until you'd come two or three times from his fingers. Both because he loved seeing you come undone with his fingers alone, but also to help you with his size. He was big, and you'd always been a bit more on the petite side.

Dutch grabbed a hold of your ankles and raised them, pushing them back to each corner of the bed so you were folded in half, but still spread wide for him. He kept a hold of your legs (you thanking your lucky stars you were flexible enough for this) as he positioned himself, his dick sliding between your folds, causing you to mewl and whimper.

"Now then, my pretty little brat" Dutch spoke, demanding your attention. "I'm going to fuck you. Hard and deep, and you're going to take it like the good little whore I know you can be. Daddy's going to fill you up, and take his pleasure."

Your brain started scrambling. He wasn't going to let you come? Surely he wasn't serious? You looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Daddy, what-"

Before you could say another word, Dutch forced his length into you, the burn making you stiffen and shout. You both moaned as he bottomed out inside you. You tried to move your hips, either to escape or to chase the further pleasure, you weren't sure which. You pleaded with him, vague moans of "Daddy please I'm sorry I'll be good" and the like. Dutch ignored them all, his grip on your legs unrelenting, giving you no room for escape.

Dutch closed his eyes for a moment, sighing with content. "Perfect.." He stated, as he suddenly retracted fully from you, before slamming himself back into you, making sure you felt every inch of him.

You yelped and shouted as he started drilling into you, his pace hard and unforgiving. The stretch and burn inside you feeling more pleasurable by the second. Dutch kept a brutal pace, grunting at your tightness around him. You were so wet and needy for him, it wasn't long before you felt your orgasm building.

You bit your lip, trying not to make it obvious you were close. You were fairly certain he would stop if he did.

And sure enough, just before you felt the explosion you craved. Dutch halted his movements, and removed himself from you completely.

"Trying to come without permission are we? You really are bad aren't you?" Dutch sneered down at you, unimpressed with your sneaky attempt at pleasure.

You whimpered pitifully. Sure, Dutch was strict with you, but you usually knew how to get what you wanted. He couldn't resist your pleas, always so desperate to give his girl what she desired. But this time, he seemed to be in no mood for your games. Raising an eyebrow at you, he slowly continued to stroke himself, before entering you again once your budding release had elapsed.

"Mine, girl. You're all mine. And you need to learn to do as you're goddamn told"

Dutch started fucking you in earnest again, your moans and whimpers adding fuel to the fire.

"Daddy.." you gasped out through your moans, "can I... Can I please come, daddy... Please"

Dutch huffed a laugh.

"No"

You whined again. Pouting up at him. You were met with an equally unimpressed glare.

"I told you, only good girls get to come" Dutch said, bringing his hand down over your throat, enclosing your delicate neck in his iron grip.

Your eyes widened and you thrashed around beneath him in your bonds. Desperate for release and struggling to breath.

You tried to keep your eyes trained on Dutch, knowing he liked seeing you utterly wrecked. But it was hard, you could feel everything so intensely, but couldn't suppress the fear that was budding in you. There was something in Dutchs eyes you weren't quite used to. An almost primal glare. It could've almost looked like hatred.

"You know, I really was very upset with you, sweetheart" Dutch said as he eventually released his grip on your throat, allowing you to breath just as you were at your breaking point. He stilled his hips, but kept himself buried deep inside you.

"I'm still not sure entirely how this is going to end for you, my girl. So I really do recommend it to be in your best interest to behave"

You sniffled at him, blinking away your tears. Clearly in no mood to compromise. You knew you weren't getting out of this. And tried to express your obedience through your expressions, not wanting to piss him off further.

Dutch smiled at you, almost sweetly, but not quite.

"Now, don't you even think about coming. If you do... Well, there's always another hole I can use.." Dutchs implication was clear. You did not want that. Nor did you want him to be displeased with you any further.

You found yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the comfort of being his. It was times like this when you wondered why you were such a brat with him, when you truly adored having Dutch take care and control of you. Giving yourself up to him completely was one of life's greatest pleasures for you and him both.

Dutch was still looking at you. An expression on his face you couldn't quite comprehend. Want? Annoyance? Both seemingly pressed into one. You could hear the wheels turning in his head, no doubt thinking of your earlier misdemeanours, how best to further punish you.

"I'll never disobey you again, daddy. I promise" you tried, hoping to get back on his good side.

It didn't seem to work.

"Darling, we both know that's a promise you're not going to keep. But don't worry sweet thing, I suppose I've been too lenient with you. How can I expect my best girl to behave if she's not being properly disciplined. .." Dutch mused above you. Making sure you were hanging on his every word.

Your mind was racing, biting down hard on your tongue to refrain from quizzing him, not wishing to annoy.

You searched his eyes, pleading silently for him to take pity on you, and let you come.

It didn't work.

Dutch continued fucking you well into the night, never letting you spill overboard, but never giving you enough time to relax. The constant need and burning inside you becoming too much to handle.

You were long past the point of sobbing. You had tried everything. Promises of complete devotion and obedience. Promises that you wouldn't ever do anything without his permission ever again. Nothing worked. Dutch would merely answer with an "mhmm" or a particularly vicious snap of hips, leaving you crying and helpless.

He'd already come inside you twice, leaving his seed in you each time as he left you tied to the bed. Watching over you as you sobbed and pleaded with him, a cigar dangling from his lips.

Cruelly smirking at you, this time Dutch seemed to be enjoying seeing you so pitiful and desperate.

Usually by the time the water works had started, he was always fairly quick to give in to you. Not wanting his princess to suffer, but when you'd been bad, you needed to suffer. So Dutch knew you wouldn't fuck up like this again.

"Two whole nights you were gone, my girl. That's the longest we've been apart since we met" Dutch told you, taking a puff from his cigar, a malicious twinkle in his eye.

He was right, your infatuation with each other had been instant. You leaving your old life the second he offered you the opportunity to take you away with him. Keep you safe, and close, and his.

You blinked up at him through your tears. The knot in your stomach tightening. Where was he going with this?

"As a result, my love, the punishment should fit the crime." Dutch spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

"Dutch, I, what are you-" you tried

"You know how helpless I felt? Waiting around for you?" Dutch interrupted you. "Well... that's how long you're going to go without release, sweet girl" Dutch told you as he watched the meaning of his words sink in.

You started sobbing again, "No! Daddy! Please I'll be good I swear, just please-"

"Now, sweetheart, this is for your own good. I can't have you running around here being a little brat now, can I?" Dutch answered you, revelling in your discomfort.

"You'll be lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again after your little stunt, let alone out of your current... predicament." He told you, looking dreadfully smug.

You wanted to slap him then. But all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and pray he would take it easy on you, but knowing and wanting in your truest of hearts, that if he was to keep you here, however long that may be, there wasn't a thing you could do to stop. And that's just the way you liked it.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Inspired by this post by @whump-princess all about tail whump~ Specifically “getting it caught or slamming it in a door”.

Featuring my demon/incubus OC Arinn. He has tiny horns and a thin, smooth “devil tail” sort of tail. He can magically hide them to blend in but doesn’t need to at home with Alex. He is “fed”/energized by physical affection (this story makes 0 sense without that info).

Tagging @deluxewhump ? This isn’t that sort of Arinn story but I did promise to tag you. :)

CW: tail whump, tail injury, broken bones, bruising, swearing, comfort, affection, romantic relationship, touching, kissing, a few light innuendos but nothing overtly sexual.

----

The cozy Saturday afternoon silence in the apartment is interrupted by the slam of the door... followed by an agonized scream from the doorway. There’s a thud and a string of curses in at least four languages.

Startled, Alex sets down his phone on the kitchen counter and hurries into the living room.

“Ari?”

Sure enough, his demon boyfriend Arinn is standing there, looking...not great. His face is flushed and pinched with pain, his fists clenched tight, white-knuckled. Bags of groceries lie at either side of his feet, their contents spilling out onto the floor. Alex couldn’t care less about them. He steps closer.

“Ari, what’s wrong? Hey, breathe...”

Ari releases a shaky breath. He takes a few more deep breaths before answering, his voice weak, tugging at Alex’s heart.

“M-my tail...”

Alex hurries to his side and looks around him.

“Oh, fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck...”

Ari’s slender tail, connected at his lower back, droops down and disappears into where the door meets the door frame. Trapped there. Undoubtedly crushed. Undoubtedly hurting.

“Oh, fuck, babe...”

“Quit saying fuck and get it out!” Arinn snaps. He immediately covers his reddened face with a hitched sound. “Sorry...sorry - I...it h-hurts.”

“I know...I know, babe.” A kiss is pressed to the side of Arinn’s head, reassurance that Alex isn’t angry. He crouches by the door.

“...wind blew it shut,” Arinn mumbles sullenly, lowering his hands. He tries in vain to hide a sniffle. Alex hears it, but spares his lover the further humiliation of pointing it out. He’s so good like that...he knows what Arinn needs, when he needs it.

Right now he just needs his tail out of the fucking door.

“Alright...here goes...”

Alex cups one hand under Arinn’s tail so it doesn’t fall. With his other hand he slowly twists the doorknob and eases the door open.

Arinn whines softly as his tail slips free into Alex’s gentle grip. He sways on his feet, groaning deeply at the rush of pain. “O-oh...”

“Easy...easy, I’ve got you.” Alex stands, still carefully holding Arinn’s tail so it doesn’t droop to the ground. He puts his other arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Couch or bed?”

“Bed, please.” Arinn turns away, flushed with pain and embarrassment and unwilling to look at the damage to his poor tail.

His tail has always been a conflicting part of himself. A thing, like his horns, that separated him from humans. Emotive, curling when he’s happy and flicking when he’s angry and tucking between his legs when he’s frightened. Fragile and vulnerable, an easy target for those who would hurt him, something to be grabbed and yanked and stomped on.

But also...

Also soft and sensitive. So attuned to gentle touch, like when Alex strokes and kisses it as lovingly as the rest of him. Tingling at the feeling of warm fingers, sending ripples of pleasure up his spine...

Now the only things traveling up his spine are tremors with every painful throb of his injured tail. Try as he might, he can’t hold back the little pained sounds the feeling elicits as Alex guides him to the bedroom.

“Alright...on your stomach...”

It’s the sort of obvious statement Arinn would normally give a sarcastic retort, and it’s a testament to the pain he’s in that he doesn’t say a word as he crawls onto the mattress and flops face first into the pillow with a groan.

He feels Alex gently settle his tail down beside him. There’s a brief loss of contact that sends a chill across Arinn’s skin. Don’t leave me. He knows Alex won’t, but nonetheless his mind can’t help imagining being left to suffer.

A big warm hand cups the back of his neck, a thumb stroking at his pulse. “I’m going to get some things...” A pause, the hand not moving. “Arinn...can you say something? I’m worried...”

That makes Arinn huff out a laugh in spite of himself. Of course Alex is worried because he isn’t running his mouth for once.

“...your hand feels good,” he mumbles into the pillow. The comforting weight of it increases ever so slightly, the touch grounding him.

“Once you’re fixed up I’ll put my hands wherever you want,” Alex teases.

Arinn groans. “None of that. Not for a while,” he says miserably.

“I know. And it’s okay.” Alex kisses the top of his head and then disappears into the bathroom to dig through their medicine cabinet.

He returns with what must be half of its contents and spills them onto the other half of the bed. “I’m not really sure how to treat a tail,” he admits. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go to a doctor.”

“Hell no,” Arinn says, turning his face to rest his cheek on the pillow so that he can look at Alex. When Alex sees his red-rimmed eyes his face softens. On anyone else it would be pity and Arinn would scoff at it, but from his Alex he knows it’s only that he feels everything so strongly, including his lover’s pain.

“It will heal on its own,” Arinn reassures him, and it’s true. He heals quicker than humans do, at least, when he has enough energy. And Alex’s constant affection is a more than sufficient energy source. “Just...something to keep it from moving until then. And something f-for the pain -” he draws in a sharp gasp as said pain hits him again.

“Yeah,” Alex says quickly. “Yeah, of course. Okay...”

He gently lifts the limp little tail and cradles it gently in his hands. Arinn closes his eyes and breathes, trusting him completely.

Alex makes a little sound of sympathy, his fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the bruised flesh. For someone who could probably bench press Arinn if he wanted to, he’s always so gentle with him. “It’s definitely broken.”

“Thought so...there was a - a crunch.” He feels Alex flinch at the words. Lips brush softly over the tender skin of his tail and he sighs.

After that, Alex works silently. He smooths some sort of balm onto the damaged tail for the bruising. He uses a ruler and bandages to fashion a splint for it, something Arinn will hate wearing every moment until it’s gone, but knows it’s necessary. Alex even gets a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen and lets the tail rest on it to ease the swelling.

Finally he begins to pop open a bottle of pain medicine, when Arinn stops him.

“Those won’t help.”

“No?”

“No. Demon, remember?”

Alex frowns, crestfallen, and sets the bottle aside. “What will help?”

“You.”

His head snaps up and Arinn meets his searching gaze. The love there is...intoxicating. Just the anticipation of Alex’s comfort makes him feel a little bit stronger.

He starts to climb into the bed and is stopped again. “Mm-mm. Shirt.”

Understanding crosses Alex’s face and in seconds his shirt is gone, revealing broad shoulders and a strong body with just enough softness to be wonderfully comfortable.

“Yours too?”

Arinn nods and doesn’t budge, letting Alex ease his shirt up over his head and toss it aside.

Alex pulls up the covers and slips under them beside him. Arinn carefully turns onto his side, managing not to jostle his tail, Alex’s hand on his hip to guide him.

“You do the rest,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy now that the shock and pain from earlier has dulled.

Alex obliges. He moves close, warm arms curling around Arinn’s body. Arinn rests his forehead against Alex’s neck and feels like he can really breathe for the first time all day.

There are no more words between them. None are necessary. Alex speaks his love in soothing strokes of hands down his back, kisses peppered over his hair, his legs tangling with Arinn’s. Solid and steady. Exactly what Arinn needs.

His affections are like a glass of water to a parched throat, sending a familiar warm energy coursing through Arinn’s veins. With Alex around he never has to hunger or thirst or want. He has everything he needs and more.

By the morning his tail will already be halfway healed, and Alex will dote on him and bring him food and kiss his horns and make him laugh. He’ll love him so hard, love his pain away, love his tail better, love his body stronger. And Arinn will love him back just as fiercely.

~The End~

[egcdeath]

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 11)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, trauma and panic attacks

----------

A few days went by that were pretty uneventful. Daphne had given her intel to Brett and she would wait to hear what he wanted her to do next. In the meantime she just took it easy. Foggy hadn't been by with the food, he'd texted her to say he and Matt had been swamped with cases but that he'd check in when he can. She idly wondered if Matt was just refusing to cook for her after their last run in out of spite but she wasn't going to cry about it. She did miss her regular talks with Foggy though but maybe it was for the best. Being attached to people only led to disappointment in one way or another down the line anyway.

But despite her respite from the masked fiend, today she needed to find him. She really hoped that with Keiran now in hospital and then on his way to jail, that her nightmares would subside and her anxiety that always seemed to be simmering would evaporate. She didn't have much luck though and she hated how this whole thing was still bothering her. She wanted to just be over it and get back to herself 100%. It was the lack of control she felt over the situation that gnawed at her. How easy he'd hurt her, how easy he'd taken her down and cut off her air supply. She'd been seconds away from death. So as much as she didn't like Matt, he was the only person she could think of that might be able to help her. She'd done her own backseat casual investigation of Matt when Foggy had come over during their friendly talks. She'd drop in a question about Matt every now and again. Foggy would answer and then steer clear of the Matt topic. But she got enough information to know what days he frequented Fogwell's gym. The same gym his father used to box in. 

She had on some leggings, her black and white vans and paired them with a long sleeve black tee and a zip up hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she left her backpack and camera, not needing it for what she was hoping to do. She really had no idea how this would go. He could say no and tell her to fuck off, which honestly she was expecting. His hot and cold moods gave her whiplash but she was hoping he'd take pity on her if she was honest with him about why she needed his help. She didn't like him much and loathed sharing a vulnerable part of herself. But if anyone understood the brutality of what she went through and the guilt that plagued her, she figured it would be Matt. She had a lot of pride but she also knew when she should swallow it. In this case, she'd rather bruise her pride a little now with Matt than have it ripped to shreds if she got attacked again. 

The air was chilly outside and she tugged her hoodie tighter around herself as she walked briskly to the gym. She'd never been to that gym before, or any really. She wasn't trained in fighting or super into fitness. She just kept herself okay enough to get by with her job. She didn't technically know how to fight but she could throw a punch when needed. It was her sheer stubbornness and self preservation that drove her in those moments when it came to it. Just like her attack at Mr Lee's House. But that almost went very very badly for her and she wanted to be more prepared. She really hoped it never came to it but she was taking precautions either way. She was hoping by taking back some level of control over what happened then maybe she'd be able to start sleeping again. She'd grown tired of Foggy and Brett making remarks about the circles around her eyes. 

Once she got to the gym, she stood outside for a moment. She felt a flutter of nerves, knowing that she would need to be honest and open with someone she didn't like all that much. For all she knew he wasn't even here. He should be if he followed his routine but the one thing that prickled at her with Matt was his unpredictability. She pushed open the door quietly and tiptoed inside. It was empty except for the man she was looking for. He was in a vest and baggy shorts, nothing covering his eyes. She was expecting him to turn to her, his senses alerting him she was there. But he didn't. The boxing bag was a victim of the onslaught of punches Matt threw its way, grunting and panting as he did. She couldn't help but stand and watch for a moment. He was so aggressive, graceful yet savage. She found herself admiring it for a moment. 

Slapping herself out of a moment of stupidity, she cleared her throat loudly. He stopped punching, his head whipping in her direction and confirming that he had been too absorbed in what he was doing to notice her. 

"Daphne?" He asked breathlessly. He sounded genuinely confused but he didn't have the same bite he did the other night so she was hopeful this wouldn't be too painful for her.

"Hey," she murmured awkwardly, moving closer inside. Matt walked over to his water bottle on the bench, gulping it greedily. She watched him for a moment as she gathered the nerve to ask him what she came for. He was all sweaty and his hair was stuck up everywhere. It was slightly endearing. He looked more like a person than the Devil of Hell's Kitchen right then.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as his chest started to calm down with the heaving. Once again he didn't sound mad. 

"I uh… I was kind of hoping for a favour," she grimaced. He blinked in her direction, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"It couldn't wait?" He snorted. 

"Not really. I was kind of hoping you'd train me," she blurted. There. She ripped off the bandaid, now she just had to wait for which Matt she would get and figure out how to proceed. He was silent for a moment, lifting his vest up and wiping his face with it. She wouldn't deny she took a peek at his abs. She didn't like him but she never denied he was attractive. She’d told him that the first time they'd met.

"Any reason why?" His voice was devoid of any telltale sign of how he felt so she really had no idea which version of himself he was. That made her nervous. She felt her heart flutter as she folded her arms around herself like a protective cocoon. He seemed to notice as his face softened a little. 

"Your attack right?" He asked knowingly. She was grateful one of them had the balls to say it but hated that it hadn't been her. But he seemed to be amicable which was something so she decided to just press on.

"I have nightmares every night. Flashes of… Mr Lee's body and… Keiran's hands around my throat. I thought it would get better once he was caught but...its not," she muttered as her throat tightened. Matt stayed silent as he watched her but she wasn't looking at him. She was frowning at the floor.

"I felt so fucking helpless, Matt. I can throw a punch and I can take a punch. But that… I wasn't prepared. And that lack of control is fucking with me. I hope to fuck I never go through something like that again but if I do, I want to be prepared. That was the second time someone used a knife on me. I don't need to do fancy blackflips and shit, but just basic self defense. Disarming people and getting out of holds," she continued. Her voice was tense and she felt a dull ache in her chest. But she'd gotten it out now, even if he said no at least she tried. When she chanced a glance at him, he was biting his lower lip as he glared at the floor. His whole body looked tense and she started to panic he'd say no.

"Please," she insisted. She hated herself for begging him for anything but she needed this. She needed some semblance of control back in her life so she could go on as normal.

"Alright," he relented. She blinked for a moment before relief swept through her. Maybe it would be awkward but she didn't care in that moment. She smiled gratefully with a nod.

"I'll train you on one condition," he said firmly. She groaned and rolled her eyes, of course there was a condition.

"What is it?" She sighed.

"If I train you, you stop calling me Devilboy," he said seriously. An inelegant snort left her lips, she hadn't expected that to be his request. 

"But it suits you," she whined playfully. His lips quirked up as he shook his head.

"That's the deal, take it or leave it," he smirked at her, outstretching one of his wrapped hands. She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly as she walked over, shaking his hand firmly. 

"What about Satan spawn?" She asked cheekily and he shot her a dirty look with his unfocused eyes. 

"Nope," he replied firmly. 

An hour later and she was ready to tear her own hair out, or his, either really. He'd had her warming up on the punching bag to see how she fared. He'd been impressed by how hard she could hit but took great pleasure in criticising her form and how she'd cause more harm to herself with the way she did it. She got better after his advice although she still wasn’t perfect but his nitpicking was starting to chip at her sanity. She knew he was helping but he seemed to enjoy being a little asshole too much.

"Alright, let's go," he said. She furrowed her brow not sure what he was talking about but he tossed her some boxing gloves and put some on himself before he hopped up, climbing through the ropes in the ring. A sly grin crept onto her face. Sparring him would be much more fun, even if she knew she had no chance of winning. Even if he took it easy on her which she knew he would. She climbed into the ring and stretched her neck a little. 

"What are we doing?" She asked. He started circling her like a shark with its prey and she found herself following suit as the adrenaline started sparking inside of her.

"Just a free for all. You need to practice on a moving target and learn to dodge," he replied carefully. 

They circled each other for a moment more before she threw the first punch, she wasn't surprised when he dodged it way too easy. 

"Did you forget everything I just taught you? Fix your form," he demanded. His attitude was fuelling her annoyance and she swung at him again. 

"Better. Try again," he muttered. She went to punch him but instead of dodging, he blocked and then pushed her back. Not too hard but she still grunted and almost lost her balance. 

"This isn't fair. You're not exactly a normal opponent," she huffed, readying herself again.

"You gonna keep trying or cry about it?" He smirked. Her jaw dropped a little and she swung out again but once again he deflected.

"I thought you said you could throw a punch," he taunted, causing her to purse her lips. 

"Against a normal person. Not Daredevil," she scolded with a glare.

"I'm hearing a lot of excuses," he snorted. Her anger was starting to simmer away on the back burner. She swung at him hard but he grabbed her wrist, twisting her and spinning her away from him.

"Do better!" He barked. She threw another punch but she missed as he ducked out of the way, kicking his leg out and sweeping her own out. She landed on her back with an oof. Her chest was heaving and she didn't know if she was more annoyed with him or herself. 

She jumped back up onto her feet and rolled her shoulders. 

"Maybe you could take it easier on me," she bit out.

"Right. Because if you get attacked I'm sure they'll take it easy on you. No wonder Keiran took you down so easy," he sneered. A white hot rage ran through her at the words.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was deadly calm as her hands started shaking with anger. He just smirked cruelly and gave her a lazy shrug.

"Did you even try to fight back or did you just lay down and take it?" His words made her snap and she lunged at him. She threw out her right hand but as he dodged it she hit out with her left, clocking him right in the jaw. She felt exhilarated she got a hit in. She didn't have time to celebrate as he shoved her instead of hitting her back. He swung his legs out but she moved out the way just in time and she sent a kick to his torso that landed. It barely moved him but it connected. 

He laughed, actually laughed and not in a mocking way. It occured to her then he'd purposely pissed her off so much to help her. She should have seen it sooner since pushing people's buttons to elicit a response was her thing. She leaned left to throw him off before quickly weaving right and landing another punch to the jaw. She groaned when his gloved fist landed on her side. It was by no means a full punch but it shocked her since he'd done nothing but deflect and dodge so far.

"You hit me," she muttered with wide eyes. He snorted and tilted his head, unfocused eyes in her direction.

"That's generally how this goes," he smirked. She shook her head with a grin of her own before throwing another punch at him. They spent some more time and he didn't hit her as many times as he could have and she didn't land as many as she wished she had, but she was getting better. 

Her chest was heaving after a moment and he leaned against the ropes as he caught his own breath.

"You did good. With practice you'll get even better," he smiled. She stood up straighter and wiped her brow with her arm.

"Was that a compliment?" She snorted, cracking her neck as she walked over and took the gloves off after he did the same.

"I wouldn't go that far," he retorted with a smirk. 

"What next?" She asked. She tightened her hair tie and tried to ignore the strays that had flown out during the sparring.

"I'll teach you how to get out of some holds," he stepped closer to her before walking behind her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"Alright, if someone comes and grabs you from behind like this..." he put his arm loosely around her neck and she straightened up a little.

"As soon as you feel the arm, you need to push your chin down," he instructed. She did as he said as he brought his other hand up and gripped the other. 

"Now grab my arms with both hands and step to the side," one again she did as she was told, soaking up everything he was telling her. He tapped her left arm briefly before putting his hand back in his other.

"With this arm, you'll hit back. Aim for the groin," she raised a brow at his words but she couldn't turn her head to look at him.

"You want me to hit you in the dick now or just pretend?" She snorted. She couldn't see him but she felt a light laugh dance across her neck.

"Just pretend or get my leg right now. But if this was anyone else, the groin," he replied. She hit back, stopping before she made contact.

"So usually, when you do this, the asshole will move like this to grab your arm," he said as he bent slightly and grabbed her wrist.

"But before he grabs you, you wanna elbow up right in the face," she almost asked if she could really elbow him in the face but decided against it. He released her completely and she glanced back to him.

"Ready?" He asked as he looked in her direction. She faced away again and blew out a breath.

"Ready," she confirmed. 

He quickly wrapped an arm around her but she pressed her chin down as he'd told her to. Then gripping his large forearm with both hands, she stepped to the right and swung her fist back, not making contact. He went to quickly snatch her wrist but she flung her elbow up, almost connecting. She beamed a smile as he let her go and she turned around.

"That was good. You're a quick learner," he smiled. This wasn't turning out to be as bad as she thought it would. 

"Thanks. I'd say you're a good teacher but I'm scared your ego would get bigger than it already is," she smirked and he chuckled at her. 

"We'll do one more for today, lay down," he gestured to the floor and she quirked a brow before getting to the floor and laying on her back.

"This one is harder to get out of, there's a lot more steps. But if you practice it then you should be fine," he said as he got on the floor on his knees. He grabbed her ankles and pushed her legs so her knees were bent and he moved so he was pressed against her. She just lay there curiously for a moment. 

"You ready?" He asked carefully. She hadn't really thought too much about just what they were about to do but she nodded anyway. Then his hands were wrapped around her throat. It wasn't tight at all but as he loomed over her, even the featherlight touch around her neck sent her fight or flight into overdrive. His face suddenly morphed into Keiran's and despite no pressure being applied, she felt like she couldn't breathe. 

"Daphne?" Matt faltered, his voice unsure. Something snapped in her and she shoved him off easily since he didn't try to resist her

 She sat up, gasping for air as she scooted back until her back pressed against the rope. She had no idea what was wrong with her but her ears started ringing. Matt was talking but he sounded like he was underwater and she couldn't make out his words. Large hands cupped either side of her face and his fuzzy face came into focus. Matt, not Keiran.

"Breathe, okay? You're fine. Just breathe nice and slow for me," he soothed. She closed her eyes, her whole body shaking as she did as he said. She was safe. She knew that so why did she freak out? She felt her face flush in embarrassment and anger at herself for reacting that way as her breathing started to steady. Her body still trembled even when she could now breathe.

"I… uh…" she wanted to say something. Tell him she acted stupid. That she knew she wasn't really in danger and was being dramatic. But no words came out that didn't make her sound as pathetic as she felt.

"It's fine. You weren't ready. We can try again another time," he murmured. His hands left her face and he stood, holding a hand out to her. She took it and let him help her stand. The silence was tense as she wallowed in her embarrassment. She had to freak out over nothing, in front of Matt no less. 

"Daphne, if you need to talk-" 

"I'm fine," she bit out harshly. She hadn't meant to but she was angry and of course she'd lash out. He bit his lip with a tense nod as she climbed out from the ring. She stalked over to the water fountain and took a long gulp to try and calm herself down. Things were going fine until they weren't. She heaved a sigh. 

"Thanks for training me," despite her words and how much she meant them, her tone was still guarded and a little brisk. 

"No problem, feel free to come back when you're ready," he replied. She couldn't really read his voice. He didn't sound angry at her. He didn't sound anything. But she knew she'd been a bitch when all he'd done is help yet she couldn't find it in her to say sorry. 

She swung her bag over her shoulder before leaving without a goodbye. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to him for help. He had helped though but she loathed feeling so vulnerable in front of anyone. Especially him. She knew her anger was at herself though. She felt so weak and helpless. She knew Matt wouldn't hurt her and she'd freaked out for nothing. The attack seemed to infect every part of her life and all she wanted was to close that chapter in her life and be done with it. 

[thisaliennerd]

oh! 28 and brad bakshi maybe?

this ended up being very poppy centric (and a little longer than i thought it would be) but i hope you still like it anon! 28 - “I don’t hate you.”

send me a prompt

~~~

Poppy is fucking sick of Brad. Yet again, Brad has decided that it is his responsibility to humiliate her in front of the entire company, by shutting down another one of her brilliant ideas. Why on Earth he decides to pick on Poppy and no one else is beyond her, but it’s starting to drive her mad. 

She glances out the window of her office. Look at him. Laughing with David as if he isn’t the literal devil. She watches, scowling, as Brad pats David on the shoulder and walks into his office. 

You know what? She should go over there and give him a piece of her mind. 

I mean, Brad really needs to be taken down a few notches. After the stunt he pulled last year, everyone treats him like he’s untouchable. Plus the testers love him now for some reason. It’s like everyone’s forgotten that he’s a dick.

Poppy tries to let it go, she really does, but the rage keeps simmering until she just can’t take it anymore. She shoves her chair out and storms into Brad and David’s shared office. Brad is sitting at his computer, casually drinking his coffee. He doesn’t even look up as Poppy bursts through the door. 

She is going to lose it. 

“Ok, Brad, I get it!” Poppy slams her hands down on Brad’s desk. “You hate me! But I’m just trying to do my job! If you keep sabotaging every single idea I have, we are never going to get anything done! We’re supposed to be a team.”

Brad calmly looks up from his computer, “I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Poppy frowns, pulling back. 

It’s so nonchalant, which, admittedly, is very on-brand for Brad, but it also feels shockingly honest. Brad is not exactly renowned for that. 

Brad leans forward, folds his hands in front of him, and repeats himself, emphasizing each word very carefully. “I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

“Right, well, that wasn’t—that wasn’t really—” Poppy stutters, taken aback. 

Brad holds up his hand, cutting her off. “Poppy, I know you don’t like me, but I think you’re being a little unfair.”

“Unfair?” Poppy asks incredulously. 

“You’re ‘just trying to do your job’ but I’m ‘sabotaging your ideas’?” Brad asks, smiling in a way that makes Poppy feel like he’s about to unravel her entire world. 

“You are.” She mutters defensively. 

“Yes, because it’s my job.” Brad leans back, holding his hands open. “Look, Poppy, my job is to sell things, make money, your job is to be creative. 90% of the time, those jobs are going to clash.”

“So why are you picking on me? It’s always me! It’s like no one in this office respects me!” Poppy yells, her frustration peaking again. 

“Woah, what?” Brad tilts his head, “Wait, Poppy, I don’t do that because I don’t respect you, I do it because I respect you. You know that right?”

She did not know that. “What?”

Brad sighs, “Poppy, I respect you very deeply. You are one of the most talented people I have ever met. I admire your creativity and honesty. But, I also think you’re naive and headstrong and have a very hard time conceptualizing the wider picture of creating a product. Which is ultimately what we do. And while those qualities make you very good at your job, they would make you terrible at mine.” 

Poppy folds her arms, feeling very weird about how honest and kind of nice Brad is being. 

“You and I have something very important in common, Pop. We are the best at our jobs. We have to be. Unfortunately, that makes us opposites in pretty much every other way. Of course we’re going to butt heads.”

“So why me? What about Ian?” Poppy asks, frowning. 

“Ian listens to me. In his own way, sure, but he gets it. And you will too. Eventually.” Brad smiles, and this time it feels unexpectedly genuine. “But, no matter how hard I push back against your completely unmarketable ideas, I still respect them, and I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I don’t really respect your job, but,” Poppy sighs, “I guess I don’t hate you either.”

“Glad we cleared that up, now please get out, so I can get back to sabotaging creative.” Brad swivels back to his computer, waving Poppy towards the door. 

Poppy shakes her head, laughing a little in spite of herself, “Bye, Brad.”

Ok, so he’s still definitely an ass, but maybe he’s not completely intolerable. Maybe.