#so now that he realizes he himself is the only thing stopping him from attaining his definition of freedom

[well-dressed-sewer-rat]

(tw blood)

just a silly little guy <3

(explanation in the tags + more stuff under the cut because i’m indecisive as hell)

[oblivionsdream]

So okay the jester has never seen the knight take his helmet off & potentially doesn’t know his real name? Idk if you said. But okay maybe he saw the knight in regular clothes a couple of times & just didn’t recognize him?

So like I’m imagining the jester being really attracted to this random guy that he’s seen once or twice around the castle & he’s feeling angsty one day because the knight won’t flirt back with him so he asks around about the mysterious man with the long hair thinking maybe he can rebound & distract himself from the knight, but no one seems to know who he’s talking about… so now he’s even more bummed because *neither* of the guys he likes are attainable. Fast forward to him catching sight of this mysterious man in a corridor one night, dressed in regular clothes of course, walking out towards the stables with a bunch of carrots.

Queue the Jester (who’s maybe slightly drunk - it’s a weekend, it’s fine) taking off running after the man & being like “Hey, I’ve been looking for you!”

Augustine immediately panics and freezes in place because how did the jester recognize him?? But the jester catches up to him and keeps talking as if nothing is strange.

“I’ve seen you around before, but I never got your name,” the jester says, and Augustine relaxes slightly, realizing that the jester doesn’t seem to recognize him.

“I’m not around the castle very often,” he says, trying to pull away and disappear off somewhere to put his armor back on so he can avoid a surprise reveal of his identity if the jester recognizes his voice or something.

But the jester is totally oblivious to the knight’s anxieties, and follows him out to the stables, flirting clumsily and asking question after question which the knight does his best to dodge.

After that night, it becomes kind of a Thing. The jester pesters the knight both in his helmet and out of it, with seemingly no idea that they’re the same person. Cut to one afternoon, the jester is watching Augustine feed the horses in the stables, and he seems considerably less jolly than usual, so despite his best instincts, Augustine asks him what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” the Jester says, shaking his head.

“Really?” Augustine asks, genuinely growing concerned at the jester’s melancholy.

“Well,” the jester says, hesitating. “Actually, you know that really tall knight? Captain of the guard?”

Augustine freezes, but forces himself to nod.

“I’ve been trying to get his attention for months now,” the jester says. “But I think it might be time to give it up.”

Augustine pauses for a moment, mind stalling. “No,” he says quickly. “Why?”

“He’s so serious, half the time, I can’t tell if I’m annoying him or charming him,” the jester says regretfully. “I’ve never even seen him out of his helmet.”

“Oh,” Augustine says.

“Honestly, I started flirting with you to get over him,” the jester confesses.

Augustine clears his throat, cheeks burning. “Is it working?” he asks.

The jester smiles. “Nah, not exactly. I mean, you’re lovely, but I’m afraid I’m still rather hung up on that knight.”

Augustine meets the Jester’s two-toned eyes, flushing as the jester’s grin spreads across his face.

“But I’d still go for a roll in the hay anytime you like,” the Jester adds, and Augustine nearly chokes on air.

“Sorry,” he says, coughing, face burning under the Jester’s gaze.

“Don’t stop breathing, I was only joking,” the jester says devilishly. “Anyway, I’d better get back inside.”

“Right,” Augustine says.

The jester stares at him for a moment longer.

“You’re a really good listener,” he says, and for once, all traces of joking seem to have left him.

Queue the Jester spiraling about his rapidly-growing infatuation with this random man, which is now competing with his enduring affection for the knight.

And Augustine feels really bad that the Jester was sad about him, so he starts flirting with him more in his armor, complicating things even further.

😂 I got carried away & I didn’t proofread this but do you get my vision?

OMG YES THIS IS SO FREAKING CUTE. Jester would def know Augustine’s name but as long as at the stable he was careful not to reveal his name or gave him a pseudonym/nickname to call him by then it could work. Poor Jester would have very complicated feelings about the same man. He thinks he’s caught up in a love triangle but it’s just the same guy 😂

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization. 

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least. 

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode. 

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before. 

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine. 

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets. 

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing. 

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine. 

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain. 

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney. 

‘Psssst’ 

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in. 

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere. 

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him. 

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.  

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’ 

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating. 

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t. 

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’ 

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone. 

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead. 

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach. 

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him. 

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself. 

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv. 

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter. 

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously. 

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says. 

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders. 

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks 

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily. 

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops. 

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her. 

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter. 

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult. 

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan. 

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders. 

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it. 

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life. 

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose. 

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified. 

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal. 

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd. 

“Syd?” He blinks a few times. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes. 

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm. 

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed. 

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention. 

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped. 

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. 

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other. 

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney. 

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs. 

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud. 

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug. 

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him. 

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back. 

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her. 

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant. 

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased. 

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there. 

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her. 

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire. 

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again. 

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life. 

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down. 

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry. 

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back. 

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face. 

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.  

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up. 

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears. 

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit. 

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath. 

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure. 

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said. 

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising. 

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins. 

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’ 

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered. 

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered. 

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze. 

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. 

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her. 

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing. 

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him. 

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder. 

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket. 

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake. 

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue. 

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go. 

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze. 

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read. 

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain. 

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back. 

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire. 

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him. 

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head. 

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him. 

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more. 

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him. 

“Fine.” He mumbled.  

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed. 

“Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her. 

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way. 

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good”  Sugar said quietly. 

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said. 

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today. 

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed. 

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap. 

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said. 

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her. 

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly. 

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked 

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women. 

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit. 

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen. 

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked. 

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up. 

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door. 

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him. 

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“ 

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids. 

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something. 

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day. 

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him. 

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it. 

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning. 

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left. 

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here. 

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away. 

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.  

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around. 

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately. 

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting. 

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all. 

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her. 

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit. 

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree. 

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“ 

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him. 

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased. 

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete. 

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air. 

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself. 

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.  

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place. 

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions. 

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all. 

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.  

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted. 

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on. 

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.  

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow. 

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love. 

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully. 

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides. 

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs. 

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head. 

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes. 

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’ 

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite. 

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked. 

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted. 

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney. 

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself. 

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.  

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing. 

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter. 

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit. 

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased. 

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’ 

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it. 

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all. 

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life. 

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person. 

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6. 

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain. 

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water. 

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though. 

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did. 

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.  

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more. 

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed. 

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen? 

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race. 

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit. 

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit. 

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory. 

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days. 

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.  

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her. 

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence. 

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall. 

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

 It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen. 

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward. 

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy. 

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more. 

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her. 

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening. 

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently. 

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

[diagonal-queen]

If it's not too much trouble, could you please write about Chuuya's reaction when new mafia member!reader runs up to him and blurts out "Teach me how to fight!" before realizing that was probably a rude way to say that and getting embarrassed 🫢

Reader is gifted and even smaller than him and joined the Port Mafia because she wanted to learn from Chuuya specifically.

His New Trainee

♡ synopsis: You're a new recruit at the Port Mafia whose goal it is to receive the guidance of Chuuya Nakahara himself. One day, you finally gather the courage to ask him to teach you to fight.

♡ wc: 1.1k

♡ cw: Cursing (c'mon, it's Chuuya), Chuuya is a little scary, mentions of fighting (c'mon, it's the mafia), lmk if I've missed anything

note: My love, writing is NEVER a trouble and I'm always happy to do so! I simply couldn't refuse a fun request like this 🌸 (apologies for any errors present)

"Teach me how to fight!"

Whatever courage had suddenly swept over you disappeared the second those words escaped your lips. It wasn't common for a mafia executive to pay much attention to relatively new, lower level mafiosi, let alone directly teach them how to fight. Apparently, however, that logic wasn't enough to stop you from approaching him when you found him alone in a hallway and blurting out your plea.

Chuuya stared down at you, eyes slightly widened at the sudden expression of interest. He was immensely intimidating to friends and foes alike, but because you thought so highly of him he was especially scary. Not only was he taller than you, and his figure was rather imposing, his azure eyes were burning holes right into yours as if you were one of his targets.

"What did you just say to me?" Abnormally, you couldn't read Chuuya's expression. You couldn't figure out whether or not he was angry, confused, or simply taken aback by your statement. You stood silent for a moment, before you realised your cheeks and ears were very quickly warming up, and likely turning a very bright and noticeable shade of red.

"Oh, gosh..." You massaged the bridge of your nose in embarrassment. Of all the ways to go about it...

Chuuya was your superior, and, this being the mafia, could easily snuff out your life in the blink of an eye at his discretion. What were you thinking, approaching him so brazenly and asking him something like that?

You already knew about Chuuya's ability and sheer strength prior to joining the Port Mafia. You'd known immediately that you wanted that strength, and that if anyone would be able to help you attain it it would be the executive himself. Though you had assumed it would be easier said than done, given your stature and experience, you persevered and actually managed to score yourself a rank in the mafia, albeit a low one. Being a mere assassin, you didn't necessarily stand out at all. That was, until you impulsively decided to run up to Chuuya just now.

"...I want you to teach me how to fight," you repeated, meekly. "...please, sir."

Chuuya quickly looked you up and down, then folded his arms.

"What's your name?" He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. You caught the movement and cursed yourself internally. Of course he wouldn't know who you were.

"I'm Y/N. I'm an assassin. I've been a part of the organisation for two months," you answered with as professionally monotone a voice as you could muster.

"You got some balls, approaching me like that and telling me to train you," he said, and you felt your hands grow sweatier. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but that was the scary thing. "Why do you want me to teach you how to fight?"

You inhaled, shakily. At this point you were lucky that he was even hearing you out. "Well...I usually use my ability in combat. It's...fine, but I want you to help me reach my full potential with it. I know it's a presumptuous request, but..." You finally gathered the guts to look up and met his sharp gaze. "I've seen what you can do with your ability- and I know, mine isn't as strong, but I think that with your mentorship I could fully hone my skill. That's why I..."

"...why you...?" He raised an eyebrow , prompting you to finish. You knew you absolutely weren't ready to admit such a thing to him, especially to his face, but keeping him waiting might have a worse outcome.

"...why I...joined the Port Mafia at all."

"...eh?" He certainly didn't appear to expect that answer. You began to panic, worrying that you'd just given him a very skewed impression of what you intended to.

"I-it's not like that..." You stammered, but he just shook his head and held up a gloved hand to stop you before you snowballed into a nervous tangent.

"Shut it for just a second, lady. You mean to tell me that you came here," he quickly gestured around the building, "to the Port Mafia, and became an assassin just so you could ask me to teach you how to fight?"

Well, when he put it that way, it sounded stupid. But deep down you still held out a sliver of hope that you would achieve what you set out to find here. You figured you wouldn't get anywhere by making yourself seem insecure about it.

"That's right." You gave the mafioso a firm nod.

"Geez, he really knows how to pick 'em, huh...?" Chuuya murmured to himself before he adjusted his hat and let out a sigh. "Well, it's not like I haven't done any one-on-one training with a subordinate before. But I don't think you know exactly what you're getting yourself into."

"No, I know." You replied eagerly, without hesitation. Chuuya raised his eyebrows and let out a small, surprised chuckle.

"It'll be hard, y'know. For a while, you're probably gonna get your ass kicked."

"I know," you nodded at him, determination sparkling in your eyes, "I'm prepared."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely, sir."

You both stood silent for a moment, eyes locked. It felt almost like he was evaluating you, but you remained stoic, the look on your face clearly displaying how seriously you felt about this. Soon, seemingly having had enough of testing your resolve for the moment, Chuuya placed his hands on his hips and straightened.

"Alright."

"Wait- what?" You blinked, your brave front immediately broken, and Chuuya let out a scoff that echoed through the hall. "You really- what?!"

"Bet you weren't expecting that, huh, newbie?"

"I-I...guess...I really expected a lot more pushback..."

"That kind of attitude will make things a hell of a lot easier for me, that's for sure..." he exhaled. "Listen- I don't normally agree to things like this, but I get the sense that you have a lot of promise. Find me here again at this same time a week from now. Hopefully once you start training you can prove me right."

"Of course, sir," you responded, barely able to hold back your elation.

"Then we're done here. I've got work to do and I'm sure you do too," he said, earning one more nod from you.

"Yes, sir. Thank you again," you bowed to him, before quickly turning on your heel and scurrying down the hall. Once you thought you were out of earshot you let out a joyful squeal. It had actually worked, after all. You were going to start training under Chuuya Nakahara. Such an idea was more than enough to have you bouncing with happiness.

Unbeknownst to you, Chuuya was still close enough to have heard your sound of excitement. When he did, he simply let out an amused sigh, and smiled.

shall i begin a taglist or is that too ambitious of me

[vourequat]

— Dottore.

“I've watched you change” — Change, Deftones

You had to admit.

Zandik was one of your peers whom you've watched change from a boy to a man, he was one of the friends that stayed long with you as you did with him. You both grew into the best versions of yourselves but as changes came it made you more confused if you really knew the Zandik who stood in front of you, he was so different yet you couldn't pinpoint where he went south.

A sweet boy with ambitions bigger than him was killed and crumpled into nothing when the Akademiya declared his expulsion, he loved to learn and teach but the institute deemed him a danger with his inventions.

You tried to defend him.

"Zandik... you could just turn off the core and we can always go back to what we used to" you appealed as you held his hand that was shaking on top of the core that powered a field tiller that you both found underneath the deserts.

He looked at you, he was confused— he was still a boy after all.

His red eyes shine off unidentifiable emotions as he continues to eye you and the robotic figure down as if he was making decisions in his pretty little head that was capable of making such beautiful creations, creations that (by his words) were too complex for the Akademiya to understand, "You don't get it... you too?" He breathed out as he seemed to be in a brink of hyperventilating.

You held his hand tight.

"Zandik, I have always understood you but... I... I don't know if I can continue to try" you admitted.

He stopped, from those words he realized his mistakes... he was harming you, his best friend.

"You can always go back... I'll talk to grand sage himself and you can go back once your creations are dealt with—" before you could make your way to the building of education you both once dreamt of finishing in that now was tainted with their regressive ideals, he held your hand tight.

"It's fine... I can't stay somewhere I can't be as ambitious" This was so unlike him, he would only turn his back at the institute once he found a better replacement.

"The Fatui... they offered to help me create more of my work if I work for them, isn't that amazing?!" He laughed.

The Fatui?

That was the very last thing you thought of Zandik's possible last resorts ever since you heard that he was officially taken off of the lists of scholars, but if seeing him flutter into his greatest potential then so be it.

Ever since you two were young, you ought to help each other to attain your limits and use your skills all the way through. You believed that leaving off some skills in the dark was a waste and a disgrace to the god of knowledge who has gifted it upon the people of Sumeru, but if this is what pulls the real Zandik out unlike the Akademiya who had always been cutting off the scholars feet just so they can't walk towards their potential yet crawl with false hope of reaching so, if this was what Zandik wanted— then it's what you want.

"Zandik... just... be careful"

It was the very last words you could remember from your last meeting with the blue haired genius as you watched him come back to the Akademiya and Sumeru altogether but he was so... off.

He was still handsome... charismatic and exuded that aura of a genius but it was no longer Zandik who walked the ground that you once ran around as kids— it was Dottore.

You began to take slow steps away from the blue haired Fatui, you were also stuck in the cycle of the Samsara but luckily you were no longer under its control after long been catching up with the loop of your day but it was a dead end. With Fatui guards blocking your way out after catching on your unusual behaviour for someone under their unruly loop, you tried to fight back of course yet you were no match to killing machines.

With you in their arms, they brought you to their superior.

The large smirk on the man with the beaked mask slowly disappeared when his eyes dropped towards you, surprisingly, he still remembers you.

"How interesting..." He leaned down towards you as he studied you.

"Smart as always, how fast you are to find that you are in a loop" He laughed as he stood up in his full height.

You tried to squirm your way out of the guards grasps yet it was no use, "This is unjust, Zandik!" you spat out.

He stopped.

"Zandik... never heard that name in years" He breathed out as he loomed over you.

A simple gesture from Dottore, the guards left you two alone in the darkened room. Slowly, the heels of his shoes clicked as he approached your chained down figure.

"You left me..." He said under his breath.

It was true, you left him, he let you. You told him that you'll let him do whatever he wanted as long as you weren't pulled into it, you had a family to protect while he had none— a harsh truth he needed to hear when he uttered those names.

"You left me when I needed you!"

"I'm not the only one who left... I mourned you for years when you just let me leave you like we had nothing!" You cried.

"Zandik... I've watched you change"

"I've watched you change for the better and for the worst... I tried to keep understanding you but I just couldn't anymore when you joined the Fatui, the very people who our people feared!" You yelled through gritted teeth.

He knew about how horrid the Fatui was ever since but he was just so blinded by his ambitions that he couldn't see that he was slowly becoming what he promised to never be, everyone in his village called him a monster all because they couldn't understand him and when you came and perfectly acknowledged him and recognized his genius but then he ruined it all because of his dreams yet some of it was your fault... you fed him words that made him pursue his very best, to push himself to his limit but maybe he has overdone it.

"I only did it to protect you from them..." Was all he could muster with his voice weakened by incoming tears.

"I only did it to protect our dreams—"

"You only did all of this because of your stupid ambitions... none of this was about any of us... it was all just you and your dreams!" You presumed.

He felt as if the floor slowly disintegrated into nothingness as he felt so floaty, it wasn't the feeling of freedom rather it was dread, the dread of the realization that you too had given up on him. You were his only hope, his hope that dimmed the more you two grew apart from your differing views and paths.

He thought that you would get him, that you would support him through anything from the words you assured him with. Words where you told him how his dreams were too complex for the Akademiya to recognize, you fed him all of these words to the point that he fully believed that what he was doing was right but slowly he descended into madness... into perfection as the Fatui says.

He thought that if he joined the Fatui and impressed them well enough you'd be safe from them but he was incredibly wrong— you weren't even safe from him.

"The people were right... Zandik..." You cried.

"You're a monster"

A/N: I don't remember the entire Sumeru archon quest anymore but at least I fed the Dottore whores (me included) and also you're probably wondering how the fuck I made this...

me too. I wonder.

[thewitchisgrim-blog]

La Douleur Exquise: Akrasia

“I grow tired of these silly games with you.” He growls and I can see the tension shift in his jaw as it clenches.

I had always been good at pushing buttons, Wesker had been no exception. I couldn’t help but mock him even in such an unfortunate situation. I grin wickedly at him, lips parting manically to show sharp teeth. His lips grimace in distaste and he leans his back against the white brick wall observing me.

I can only wonder what exactly he is observing since I am physically restrained. I had been restrained for what felt like years but knew that was just the windowless cell tricking me. The never dimming fluorescent lights that burned my sensitive eyes never shut off and made rest hard to find even in this new form. Jerking one hand forward taunting him for a brief moment before the shackle around my wrist catches tension and jerks.

The force would have been enough to break a normal person's bones, but I wasn’t normal anymore. I was a monster just like him. Though I hadn’t come out quite as pretty as him, the T-Virus has affected my body much differently. The only thing that gave him away were those luminous eyes of his. He could hide those behind his glasses, I couldn’t hide my monstrosity.

I barely remember the cold agony of the virus mutating my body, the only lucky thing about the ordeal. I had been so heavily drugged that I could only remember blurry images attained through heavy-lidded eyes. When they had stopped drugging me the first thing I noticed was my aching head and dry mouth.

Though once I had become a bit more alert to my surroundings, my expanded field of vision confused me first. The feeling of controlling more than two eyes. I now had two sets of eyes, I had mutated another set just below my original though they were slightly farther apart and angled in comparison to the original.

I had opened up my mouth to scream but nothing came out other than a hoarse half-sob and the feeling of something sharp against my lips. Hands had reached out touching to find an atrocious maw of teeth. They were sharp and pointed, the canines were like that of dogs, but wider and longer, more primal.

Fear had me skittering, trying to run away from myself in confusion, and tumbling off the bed. Though my mind was awake, my body was still weak from the effects of the drugs and I could only drag myself toward my own reflection in the mirrored glass window across the room.

“But the games are all I have, Wesker,” I say, my voice had also changed as I had to learn to speak around the new teeth and forked tongue. Not to mention speaking in a muzzle was a bother. It wasn’t my fault I had a habit of biting, I acted on instinct. It was their fault for underestimating me off the rip, lulled into a false sense of safety due to the long-lasting effects of the drugs. It had staved off the other mutation effects for a short period. They had failed to realize that was possible, assuming I was more like Wesker in my control. I wasn’t, they had wanted another monster, and they had gotten one.

Even now as I watched Wesker my mouth watered, I could smell the blood, albeit tainted, in his veins. I could hear his heartbeat slowly in his chest. I ached to make it pump faster. I wanted to scare him, to see him lose his composure once. He was the main goal, he was clever, not like the other stupid people in lab coats who relaxed around me after a little bit of good behavior. He treated me as a predator because he was one himself. I licked my cracked lips watching him, baiting him.

“Thirsty?” He asks, there is a humorous timbre in his voice, mocking. “If you would simply behave you wouldn’t be.” He referred to my last incursion. I had managed to sink my teeth into a newbie, severing major arteries in his neck. He had bled out quickly, over for him before he had even noticed he was dying. He was lucky in comparison to my earliest victims in that account.

I couldn't say I felt remorse for them, they had made me into what I was.

“You keep sending me such lovely-smelling snacks it would be rude to not partake in them,” I say almost coquettishly. I flutter my lashes, I wonder what it looks like since I can no longer see myself. They had changed me into a large cell once I had become violent, with stronger walls and no observation window. Only cameras, a bed, a bathroom hidden by a partisan wall, and shackles that swiveled with my movement embedded in the ceiling.

He grunts, the closest thing to a laugh. The motion makes his chest heave and I take in the way the vein in his neck moves. The hunger makes it impossible to ignore his scent, the scent of pine soap, a splash of amber cologne, and under all that his natural musky smell. I can also smell the virus, though what is left of my humanity doesn’t have the words for the way it smells, to the mutated cells it called out like a beacon.

“Did you buy a new cologne, Wesker? This one suits you more than the last one.” I continue, crossing my arms. The chains attached to the metal cuffs on each of my wrists clatter with the movement. I had grown used to the cumbersome attachments at this point, I could get to almost any point of my cell even with them, other than the area near the door where Wesker leaned. They could also be shortened from an unseen panel, links disappearing into the ceiling without notice and restricting my movement. It was the easiest way to figure out who was visiting, if the chains were retracted it would be a random person or two in an ugly white lab coat, If they didn’t it would be Wesker.

I quickly learned that attacking or making things as difficult as possible for other personnel meant they sent Wesker in more often. I preferred that he was a much more fun target than a normal person. He fought back. It was something to direct this bottomless well of rage towards. A rage that consumed my other emotions.

I can just see his eyes shift through the tint of his sunglasses, thanks to my superhuman vision. The leather in his gloves crinkles softly as he barely clenches them. I keep a set of eyes on his face while the lower eyes watch his hands.

“Your rudeness is off-putting (First).” He growls in his low baritone. Rare for him to call me by my name, he had only done so one other time. When I had first awoken.

I had been so relieved to hear his familiar voice over the intercom, I had cried harder. I hadn’t had time to process my grief of his death before my abduction, and to hear him calling me in my time of need. To save me from this, regardless of his original betrayal, he sounded like an angel. That image hadn’t lasted long, but neither had my sanity.

Anger rears and I leap forward teeth snapping, though the chains yank me back a few feet from him. He doesn’t move let alone flinch. My hands are lifted, short claws stretched menacingly toward him, twitching with effort. Everything in me screams to ravage, bite, tear, strip, maim, hurt.

I only notice the flair of his nostrils for a moment before the impact hits me. Even with my own inhuman abilities, Wesker is leagues above me. Something he didn’t mind demonstrating when he got the chance. His backhand flings my head to the side, and I have to shift my hands and set my feet to stay standing from the brutal force he puts behind it. Blood fills my mouth and frantic wildness sets in, daring hope to get under his skin. His gloved fingers thread through the cage of the muzzle, yanking me towards him while his other hand yanks on the links of chains, immobilizing my arms.

He drags me closer to his face with the muzzle, “You're wasting my time. When you waste my time I want to punish you.” He seethes through his teeth. The motion has caused a single strand of hair to fall onto his forehead, while the rest remains perfectly slicked back. A hairline fracture in his impeccable visage. I loved it, it ignited me. The fight, the thrill. Surely he could understand he was like me in some ways, I could hear it in his blood. He wanted to hurt as I did, his very cells throbbed for it. HE was so obsessed with making me behave when he couldn't contain his own rage in a situation like this.

My tongue flicks out, sliding against the leather of his gloves. The metal of the muzzle is a cold and stark contrast to the warm and rich taste of the leather gloves. His fingers twitch and I move a set of eyes to watch his face. Almost concealed eyes watch as my snake-like tongue slides and flickers over his digits. His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth. I hadn’t approached him this way before, normally we fought, or at least I tried to, but he normally dominated me immediately. The gap in our strength and speed is simply too wide. The only thing I could possibly compete with him in mind games, I had learned much from him on that front.

“Want to, or need to?” I challenge. Wesker wanted for nothing, he had cheated death itself and came back stronger than any human could ever be. Though with that power came consequences, and new instincts. I knew this well, I assumed mine were stronger than his own but this kind of taunting worked best on him. Insults and low blows were easy low-hanging fruit when it came to agitating him.  

As if hearing my thoughts he uses the grip on my muzzle to slam me into the ground releasing the chains in his other. The force is hard enough that the tile fractures upon impact, and the muzzle breaks as well. The metal band that dug into my cheekbones split, and slices the skin it once covered. A hiss of pain is all I can manage before he sends a booted foot into my belly, kicking me across the floor. Wesker went for the weak and soft parts often in our fights.  I jump to my feet this time despite the pain, eyes watching him while the others do not miss the streak of blood across the ruined white tile.

“Must we do this every time? You could be in much better conditions if you would simply act with some decorum.” He tuts, and he takes a small taunting step forward. I know he notices the way my eyes flicker back and forth looking for a sign of advance. I can hear his heartbeat slowly gain tempo, his excitement building. I hope he can hear mine, I hope he knows this is a game for me as well. Despite his constant promise to treat me better with good behavior, I didn't want it. I couldn't even fathom being able to control it.

“If I acted the way they wanted me to, you would grow bored of me. Who would I have fun with then Wesker.”

“To think, you would receive a one-in-a-million chance and squander it for the sake of fun.” Even though I am ready I barely manage to block the punch. Raising my arms in front of me his fist connects with skin and metal, the metal cuffs break but so does something in my wrist. I can help the shriek that tears its way up my throat but it doesn't dampen the flames of excitement.

Wesker had made a mistake, an equally one-in-a-million chance.

The shock of what he had done by accident, not expecting me to block him, gave me a chance to retaliate. Weeks of watching the signs, letting him torment me, and pissing him off had paid off. He stretched his right hand and shifted his weight to his left foot before he moved. The cursory movement was my signal.

My unbroken left-hand swings at him aimed for his face, he can shift back only receiving a scratch from my index talon and knocking away his glasses. He winces the nauseating fluorescent light burning his sensitive eyes. I had been forced to grow used to it, he had not.

This once again allows me to besiege him, swinging a leg I kick up. I let my excitement get the better of me. He snatches my leg with brutal force before it makes contact with his body, immobilizing me momentarily before he twists it back sending me to the ground. I catch myself on my elbows, skin splitting. My nose is filled with the scent of blood, mine and his.

He forces the leg he has up, preventing me from getting to my feet. I try to swing out but a harsh yank puts me off balance again. With a broken wrist and one leg unusable I am stuck. All this time and this was all I could do, I snapped my teeth at him angrily.

“You know better than to kick in close quarters.” He says almost happily, “I taught you that myself.”

He had when he had been her teacher. He had come highly recommended and my father wouldn’t take rejection for an answer. I wasn’t sure the amount of money Father had paid him to change his mind but I knew it to be ungodly. Though money meant little in my father's line of work for Paraguas Line company, and given his line of work he wanted his daughter to be able to defend herself. Not that I had understood that at the time, it had just seemed like another set of lessons. Another set of lessons in the ocean of tutors and teachers. The life of an Umbrella family protégé.

Though I had picked up Wesker's lessons better than my other studies. Sparing had become an easy way to relieve the stress of my young adult mind and the worries that my father burdened me with. A sanctuary almost. Wesker had been opposed originally to teaching me to begin with, but he had quickly taken a liking to me and convinced my father that I would be beneficial to him and Umbrella. I had followed him like a puppy, obsessed with him for seeing something in me other than an heir like everyone else. I had followed him for so long I had forgotten where I began and he ended. I’ll never forget the feeling of getting the phone call alerting me to his death from your father. Father had immediately summoned me home, distraught that I could be seized as his accomplice in Umbrellea’s eyes.

Though it wasn’t long after that I had been taken. Drugged and turned into an experiment by the very man I had once thought was an angel.

“Your bleeding Wesker. Losing your touch?” I taunted him before spitting blood at his boot. It hits the toe and the rest pools on the white tile.

“Not as much as you have, I'm embarrassed to have called you my student.” That almost hurts in a way I haven’t felt in a while.

“They say a student's faults are the teacher’s shortcomings you know.” I fire back at him, the floor feels cold against my back. My right-hand aches but I can almost feel the repair starting, a fun little bonus of my evolution.

He laughs. I freeze shocked, blinking at him. The deep throaty sound resonated in my chest. I had never heard him laugh like that. Not in all the years I had known him. He had been cold and a perfectionist, with no time to laugh or smile over trivial things. It’s utterly terrifying.

“They also say if you spare the rod, you will spoil the child.” He snaps my ankle, I hear the bones break before I feel it. The adrenaline had stopped me from noticing my wrist for the most part, but that had dried up. I twist to the side and vomit, though only acidic black bile comes up. Regardless, his attack doesn’t stop.

Releasing my maimed leg it hits the ground sending another wave of agony through me, I scream through clenched fangs. He kicks me again and again alternating between the ribs and my stomach. I try to cover myself but he kicks my broken wrist, and I clutch it instead, leaving myself open to attack again. My face takes the next kick and afterward, my right eyes will not open, the force has damaged something.

He snatches me up by my hair heaving me up to my knees. I want to grab at him but I can not remove my hand from holding my wrist, and I can barely get one leg up to support myself, the other I can not stomach trying to move so it drags behind me. He had roughed me up and broken my skin before, but he had never beaten me like this. I had assumed he wouldn’t give our past relationship or even the fact I was hailed as a miracle by the scientists that studied me. I was wrong. Not even the T-virus could change my body enough to not feel pain.

He forces me to look up at him, it makes the blood from my nose seep into my mouth and I choke on it. I cough and gag, sending bright crimson across his face. The misery of my wounds makes me light-headed and weak. Even if I could fight, the small amount of humanity in me tells me to cower.

When he rears his hand back I flinch, and he stops, pleased with the outcome. I choke on a sigh of relief, as blood dribbles from my mouth and nose down my chin. I can just hear it plop to the floor in fat droplets over the ringing in my ears. His hand caresses my face and slides down to my throat. A sharp pain pierces the side of my neck. I see him draw back a now empty syringe.

“Bring it in.” In the on setting mind fog, I absently wonder who he is speaking to. His luminous eyes seem like a beacon in the haze so I anchor onto them, trying to keep a grasp on my consciousness. The sliding of the metal door and I see a shadowy figure hand Wesker something. Something cold clasps around my throat.

“It seems you respond well to this form of teaching,” Wesker says. I am ebbing in a web of darkness and pain as he lifts my limp body. He places me on the barren bed, forcing me onto my side and turning my head. I'm assuming so I don't asphyxiate on my blood or vomit, as I begin to lose consciousness. The blackness becomes harder to stave off. He leans close and I can smell the sweet scent of his blood as he whispers to me.

“It seems our relationship will once again be master and mongrel.”

[thefreeblog]

Not exactly an ask. Just an idea I wanna share cause I'm too shy to post this on my own blog. So I'll tell you instead, since you're one of my favorite bloggers here. Also because you are nice and I like you.

So, my philosophy teacher said in class the other day that some religions around the world that believe in rebirth think that the soul only rebirths if it is not satisfied with the life it lived. And it will keep rebirthing(is this even a word?) until it is satisfied. That's why inner peace is a big concept among these religions.

So, my brain immediately went, "How do I make this about VegasPete?"

And so here it goes:

Imagine Vegas sitting on their living room couch with a book in hand. He takes his eyes off his book momentarily and they land on the person next to him. Pete. Cradling a pillow and fast asleep even though he told Vegas he wasn't sleepy when Vegas asked him mere five minutes ago.

The Drama playing on the TV is white noise to Vegas as he inspects this wonderous person next to him. Every time he catches Pete when he is not paying attention, Vegas falls in love with him all over again. His chest feels heavy, his breathing gets shallow, and he just realizes all over again how unworthy he is of this man.

But this time he remembers something he heard in a sermon once. Something about unsatisfied souls being rebirthed until they achieve inner peace. And he thinks how his soul would never be satisfied of loving Pete. How it would take him a hundred lifetimes to make this man next to him understand just how much he means to Vegas.

Vegas sighes to himself before swiping Pete's fringes away from his forehead and planting a soft kiss there. He hopes maybe just maybe Pete feels the same way too. So that they can keep ending up together in every rebirth. Over and over again.

Anon.. oh my god thanks so much *blushing* love you back

So, my brain immediately went, "How do I make this about VegasPete?"

Same bestie same. If this is not me. I am telling you, I do this in every damn thing. My life now is Vegas Pete brain rot nothing else.

Philosophy?? I was so happy reading you study philosophy too, I have studied it too… Aaah.. it was one of my favorite subjects to learn.

So the concept that you are talking about is called Moksha (which means freedom from the cycle of life). It’s a concept believed mostly in Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, and Sikhism. The rebirth concept is that every living body has a soul. If you have lived an unfulfilled life and you have any desires left when you die your soul acquires a different body and takes birth again. And goes through the life cycle again.  When you break free from this cycle of rebirth (called samsara) you attain moksha.

The ultimate goal is to attain Moksha and to stop the suffering (physical and emotional) you endure while you are living. Hence often after anyone dies who believes in these religions, people often pray that they attain moksha. (it’s RIP equivalent but the exact opposite in meaning).

Now coming to Vegas Pete. I can very well picture them spending a lazy day together on the couch, in complete silence and not even talking being in utter bliss. It’s so them.

In Thailand, the majority population follows Buddhism as a way of life, so it’s so likely Vegas and Pete believe in the concept of rebirth. But when you love someone deeply and wholly you generally pray for them to attain moksha( because that’s the ultimate goal of life). But in Buddhism, there is another concept where they say that if a couple follows the same faith, has the same virtuous behavior, (this is highly doubtful in the case of VP *mafia laugh*), has the same wisdom and their minds are in tune every step of the way they will go through each life together and attain moksha together. There are certain rituals/ chanting you can follow to ascertain this. (this concept is quite common in lots of South Asian countries).

This was the exact concept they tried to show in the doing merits together scene.

So we already know that Vegas is doing all the things possible to make sure Pete stays with him in all his future lives. And when they are free they will be together there too.

Ahhhh.. they are so extra your honor..

Thanks for this ask anon. I love talking about different cultures and their significance to people in different parts of the world.

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s CMA-

Whenever I reply to your replies about what I’ve said, I feel like we’re that spider-man meme just pointing at each other and jumping up and down lmaooo

When Anthony stops Ben from pursuing clover, how much of that do you think was less so an objective gesture of goodwill and more so a reflection of his (and a lot of people in the ton’s) view of love, especially as he’s seen in his own life.

What I mean about this beyond the fact that everyone in the ton, despite being enamored with the idea of love, they don’t try that hard to pursue it (look at how rare love matches are) but also how Anthony protects himself (at this point in the story) by denying himself the idea of love (namely with lottie).

His idea is that he’s protecting her, but he’s also protecting himself in a lot of ways too. Anthony thinks that he’s protecting everyone by not falling in love, and he’s encouraging Ben to do the same, not because he wants to keep Ben from pursuing love, but because he wants to protect him from the pain it might cause.

It’s the sort of catch 22 that every person who loves another must struggle with (especially parents and parent types): we want good things to happen to those we love without any of the risk. I suppose we want this for ourselves too, now that I think about it.

It’s the simple failing to realize that not only is the good thing attainable because of those risks, but that that’s also why it’s so meaningful. It’s difficult to balance and know what the right risk/reward is, so most people error on the side of caution. Ben is very much the type to play a high risk/high rewards game, which pays off, but really shows a lot about the stakes that everyone else balked, despite their admiration of the reward (love in this case).

Idk it’s just super interesting to think about imho

Also re: our other convo: I think that both allergies and intolerances can start at any time! Our bodies are weird like that lol

Also I still hate mushrooms lolololol. I can tolerate cabbage if something is masking the taste, but I don’t prefer it. It’s a texture thing for me when it comes to the other things though. I’m really weirdly specific about the textures of things I’ll eat, so mushrooms are a no-no in my book.

Also yes soap boxes!! I’m the exact same way! Any soap boxes coming to mind right now?

Omg we definitely are like that meme😂

I think it was a mixture of both! Like, I definitely think Anthony's own perspective of love played some part in it, especially now that we know he has been in love with Lottie that whole time❤️ But like, even before that, protecting and putting his family first is a second nature to Anthony at this point❤️

And there was also the fact that Clover is incredibly different than Benedict😁 And Anthony heard all kinds of things about her, because the ton was buzzing with gossip when she was first introduced😁 She's more of a riddle, no one knows all that much about her and she has zero interest in letting them know anything about her, and Anthony does NOT like riddles, nor does the ton😏

They are all used to the debutantes being a certain way, and Clover had already started breaking it on her first outing, refusing to smile at anyone😂

So I think Anthony did not want Benedict to get his heart broken, but also he knew he would eventually fall in love ❤️ He was just hoping it wasn't someone like Clover ❤️

Benedict on the other hand was already obsessed after their first interaction for the very same reason, that she doesn't fit the type of an "ideal debutante" 😈

YES! Now that we're talking about vegetables, I have many opinions about okra aka lady's fingers! 😂

So first of all, you know how there are some things in the world which are totally edible, and some are poisonous and there is a 3rd category where it's like "eh you could eat it but why would you"? OKRA IS A VEGETABLE UNDER THE THIRD CATEGORY

I refuse to believe anyone would willingly eat that vegetable(🧐?) , and I think we were supposed to leave that alone but nope, we convinced ourselves it was something edible and now the rest of the humankind is stuck with this idea-

[mrspritestories]

Over the Hedge: Sticky Situation

When the coast was clear, the thieving raccoon sent a sign to his animal family to approach.

Seizing one more look from left to right, they ran out of the hedge and towards the next hiding spot, as a car was parked perfectly in front of them.

Successfully going underneath it, RJ tilted on the left-sided front tire as he scanned his surroundings.

Ahead of them stood the lovely neighborhood of thousands of homes that roomed those hairless species of tall monkeys. They were so close to attaining their goal to loot their yummy and good-looking food.

Only one task remained until they could slink their way into one of the houses; traverse the road.

RJ turned to his family, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. "All right, guys, we all know what needs to be done”.

“Getting my nuts!”.

“Well, no, but after that shock wave you encountered yesterday, I don't think you'll find them in the same shape, Hamster”. An unhappy noise was taken notice. "Aw, don't worry, Hammy! Crispy fruit nuts aren't that bad! It's just a shame you won't be able to have any offspring”.

“What?”.

"RJ". Disappointedly clamored out the only turtle in the group, who placed both hands on his shell's core. "Stop scaring Hammy! Can we please just get this over with?".

"Hold your shell, Verne!". Coolly stated a smug grinning raccoon. "Your excitement is heartwarming, but we must take this one step at a time".

"Excited? I'm not even close to that mood".

"Oh, you're just saying that! In fact, if I recall well, you insisted on tagging along with me!".

"What?? I-I did not!".

The group's expressions went from quiet to discreetly giving looks in all different directions while innocently whistling.

The reptile narrowed his eyes at the other animals before sighing. "Oh, stop it! I just don't trust RJ to go by himself!".

"Suuuure, Verne~". He chuckled, watching him roll his eyes until deciding to discontinue dwelling on the matter. "All right, the plan is simple; Stella, alongside Tiger, will distract those humans while Hammy will disarm the deadly lasers and sneak into the basement".

"We'll go ahead and open the window door for you, RJ".

"Perfect, Ozz man! Then meet us on the rendezvous point on the other side to load the goods! You and Heather, be careful!".

A thumbs up was all he was, retorted back, as the family dual possums sprinted out of the safe zone.

"Perfect! I can already feel my stomach screaming for a delicious snack!". Rotating to the environment around them, he bent down. "Remember; everyone, stay close to your group! Now...". He paused before sticking his arm out. "Go! Go! Go!".

Everyone immediately ran across the street on that signal, followed up by RJ from behind.

However, due to his lack of stamina and speed, Verne was left behind.

"W-Wait, guys! I- AH!".

Bam!

Before he could cry out to his friends, something got stuck to his paw, resulting in him crashing onto the hard pavement. It was a little painful, as he let out a small moan, but he wasted no time getting on his knees to proceed.

But he couldn't.

Moving his head, he was dumbfounded to find the cause of his crash; a piece of gum.

And worse yet?

A faint motor engine noise seemed to be looming over.

On closer inspection, it was a large car, and it was heading his way.

A gasp escaped the poor reptile as he tried struggling away, but no matter what he did, it was futile to run.

It was honestly quite embarrassing.

"Urgh... I knew I should have stayed in the log".

Meanwhile, RJ and the others successfully made it to their entry point. However, RJ stopped in his tracks as he couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right.

And as he turned around, he was shocked to find what it was.

"Verne!!!". Panic was heard in his exclamation. He ran back only to stop at the edge of the sidewalk. "What are you doing?! You’ll be turned into turtle soup if you don't move!!".

"RJ, I'm stuck!! This disgusting thing won't get off me!!".

Gripping the fur on his head, he realized how serious this situation was.

After glimpsing between his turtle and the giant mechanical machine, he hustles on as fast as possible and crashes his way into Verne.

An elastic snap was heard, and the reptile was brutally shoved out of the way.

When he regained his bearings, his eyes shrunk to pea size as he witnessed the horror-stricken picture ahead of him.

RJ’s body was limp on the floor.

Without a moment, he got up and ran at his fallen friend. He knelt, feeling his eyes swell with tears.

"N-No... RJ...". He weakly spoke out as he held his body closer. "I-I'm so sorry... This is all my fault...".

"Verne...".

Rising his head, he took a better look at his raccoon companion. "R-RJ...?".

"I-". Coughs were heard. "I don't know how long I... have left... I-I need- I need to tell you something before I die".

"A-Anything!! What is it??".

"Come closer".

He does so but is immediately taken aback by a pair of furry lips kissing his, followed by RJ casually standing up and walking away.

"You also owe me a box of cookies, thank you very much~ Now, let's go! We can't waste much time!".

Despite that, Verne kept standing in the middle of the road, utterly lost at what had just happened.

One thing was sure; his beating heart had yet to calm down.

[song-of-the-rune]

Thinking about kaz and rikky and my fiance's character's soulscyhe

So for background -- the Soulscythe is a custom item a player character commissioned (ic, so player's idea, npc made it). You can socket a pre-treated soul gem into it. When you deal the killing blow to a creature with a soul, or any amount of a soul, you may choose to capture it into the soul gem. Roku (well, Go) had this made to hold a powerful fey who otherwise would have reformed. If it's full, you can choose to replace the creature in there, but that releases the last soul, so... you can see how that would be a problem. The character is fully aware of this choice -- they don't realize, due to some interference, that the thing asking is the thing they stored, but -- each time they kill something, there is a psychically asked question (which we jokingly call a popup window), "Would you like to release The Lady and capture <target>?" Kaz enhanced it so that, it's full, the wielder can borrow a bit of the captured soul's strength -- in this case, a spell the fey could innately cast.

The soulgem they used for this purpose, though, was infused with Go/Roku's life essence. This isn't the same as her soul; it's something she can grow back (and has), more like donating blood as opposed to an organ. Anyway, point being -- this was going to be Rikky's soulgem for attaining lichdom, and Go happened to respond to a vague, sketchy job listing at the mage's college for some quick cash. She realizes partway what this is and what it's for, and A) decides it's the perfect solution for her fey problem and B) is very much opposed to undead, so the party steals it. However, Rikky's already started binding the thing to himself -- hasn't transferred his soul, just binding it -- so there's some weirdness that the party's unaware of when they finally defeat this fey creature. (It is, in more ways than they realize, the thing connecting them to their current 'employer.')

Kaz has figured out the residual link, finally, and is gonna talk to them about it when they're back from their little adventure. We'll see how that goes; I'm looking forward to it ^w^

But if that was going to be Rikky's soulgem, you ask, how does he become a lich? Well, Kaz thought Iyo would want to be a lich and had started a soulgem for her. She became a psychic vampire instead, so Kaz has this spare lying around. Easy enough, right? Well, no, actually Rikky doesn't find out about this until it's much to late because he goes, you know what, fuck it. Kaz os unerringly loyalty toward me and would lie down and let me murder him if I asked. So I'm going to do that and jam my soul in there, and then I'm going to guilt him into doing the same in reverse. No life force transferral needed because it's all right there anyway. This plan goes over well enough, because the alternative for Kaz is essentially to kill Rikky, and he can't bring himself to do that. Rather than transfer his soul into Rikky, though, as Rikky did to him, he puts it in the spare gem, then hides the gem in Rikky's spine.

So anyway. I'm sure they know Rikky is a lich. I can't help myself. But I wonder which is a more dramatic reveal for the exact nature of things (though, it's up to the players whether either happens at all):

"With a final swing of Roku's blade, Rikkal's shrieking laughter finally stops. You hear Kaztik's knife clatter to the ground." "I close the popup window." "There is none." The players groan. It's a little cheap of me just to say he had another one, sure, but I can never resist making a lich, hehe, and they'll forgive me for it. They turn to Kaz, who -- unless anyone wants to continue combat? (I ask, knowing they're well-spent and would be much wiser to decline) -- runs to Rikkal's motionless corpse and weeps. They might invite him along, or they might be too angry. Regardless, right now, he's too angry to go with them -- but he'll calm down in time. They ask where the soulgem is. He says there is none. He's only lying by omission, but he's not a great liar, so maybe they catch on, maybe they don't. Maybe they look at the vertebra that Rikky wears as an amulet and check his spine for whatever replaced it. Kaz seems strangely calm about them taking it. Maybe they even destroy it, if Kaz can't convince them it's the wrong one -- and Rikky comes back. And back. And eventually, eventually, Kaz lets it slip that it's him. Because he's tired, and he's still angry about what happened. Just, if you haven't already, promise you'll destroy his, too.

"Would you like to release The Lady and capture Rikkal?" "What? I thought he killed Kaz." "He did." Everyone pauses. They just killed someone who didn't have a choice in the fight. It certainly explained why Kaz put up with all of Rikky's bullshit, though -- how do you get away from someone when you're the shell that stores their soul? And who knew what kind of control that gave over them. But there was no going back now -- Kaz was still undead, so no one in the party could bring him back. They can't release The Lady, either, as much as they might like to -- they'll have to take down Rikkal now, while they have the chance. They won't put their friend's death to waste. But... hey... why didn't it give the choice between Kaz or Rikky's soul? Or have two popups? That's an excellent question that I look forward to you figuring out.

[hongyueg]

3. where i play the role of anyone but me

Kingo takes some time alone during the Snap to reflect. https://archiveofourown.org/works/48275704

—————————————————————————–

Notes:

I finally see myself,

Through the eyes of no one else.

It's so exhausting on this silver screen

Where I play the role of anyone but me.

-“Three” by Sleeping at Last

Kingo wasn’t used to being alone. His movie productions hadn’t stopped with half of the planet dusting away three years ago. There were still pitch meetings to attend, auditions to judge, dances to choreograph. Life hadn’t stopped with the Snap. After living so many years on this planet, Kingo was used to seemingly random events switching things up for a little bit. Plagues, wars, natural disasters, he’d seen it all. Constant adaptation was the norm for him. Maybe that’s why he liked acting so much. It allowed him to join in with the madness of the world instead of being stuck in it. That, and the recognition of being a prominent actor, of course.

Which was why he felt so uncomfortable now just standing on a cliff by himself. No cameras behind him filming his every move. Even Karun was somewhere else. In fact, Kingo could see no human anywhere close by. The only sounds he could hear were the wind easing through the palm trees, making each frond rustle against the others and the twitters and scuffles of unseen wildlife behind him. The ocean, which lapped at the beach silently below him, glimmered turquoise in the daylight. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone up here by myself, Kingo thought to himself, shaking his head. What had he even been doing? The location scouts had already explored this island thoroughly, taking note of all the best places to film, so there had been no reason for Kingo to go up here on his own. Still, something had drawn him here. A yearning inside of him…for what, he had yet to decipher. 

That was how most things were for Kingo. He usually didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to be recognized and famous, sure. But why? Karun had asked him once after learning about his Eternal identity. It had been a long day of shooting and re-shooting. Nothing had been good enough. There was always something that was too forced, too bland, not the perfect blend of emotion and meaning. They’d gone back to his hotel suite for the night and Kingo had been about to send his valet off when Karun asked. He apologized immediately after for overstepping boundaries, but the question now clung to Kingo’s mind.

And that thought sent Kingo tumbling down another trail of memories. Memories of people he hadn’t seen in hundreds of years. His family. Kingo preferred to think he wasn’t the brooding type. That made him too much like Druig for his liking and too often brooding didn’t get you noticed in the right way. Still, nameless thoughts tugged at his consciousness. He craved to drive them away and race back to the resort where he wouldn’t be alone or get lost in thoughts of rejection. 

I need to keep moving. He turned back from the cliff, the ocean. His sandals scuffed against the wooden planks of the walkway and the trees seemed to bend around him. If he let his imagination run for just a second, he could see himself on a beach similar to this one. The night sky blazed above him, stars revolving around him. Another person stood beside him. They were short with orange hair and they pointed up at the sky. Sprite. Guilt and nostalgia poured into Kingo and he blinked the memory away. He had to keep moving. But as he headed back toward the resort, Kingo realized he felt even more alone than when he had been at the cliff.

End Notes:

“Threes are defined by their desire to achieve. They want to advance in the world and will sacrifice almost anything for success; vigorously pursuing tasks and becoming utterly absorbed in the pursuit of attainment. But they will only choose a task in the first place if it promises rewards and brings prestige. Threes like to stand out. They have a burning need to be admired and see life as a game where winning is emphasized.”

-“The Enneagram Personality Test” by Truity

Read more about Threes here.

[ycurkxng-a]

Hallucinations

Characters: (Coasty SMP) Dean King, Retalon, Star Samson

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideation, injury, general violence

Notes: ghegsggsgss

What time is it?

Shit, he'd lost track. A bash to the head from an earlier encounter had left him disorientated, unable to focus on anything but moving his two legs to keep himself going. He'd finally gotten to a point where he could think straight however, and the sudden realization that there was no more light settled upon him in a tidal wave of anxiety. Night had shrouded the forest he stumbled into with a thick blanket of darkness, only adding to the sickening tension that twisted like a knife in his stomach.

The trees surrounding no longer felt like a place he could rest, and it only pushed him to begin moving, not in any specific direction. Not that he even knew where the hell he was going, he simply needed to move. He kept his hands balled up while moving, his knuckles looking as though they were going to pop straight out of his flesh. Every little noise only drove him to walk faster, running would only draw more attention then he could handle. If he had to run... Well, he'd get to that point when it came.

Every breeze, every little crunch, they drove him into a further sense of paranoia. Normally he would move through the shadows without fear, but he couldn't think straight, and he was far too tired to actually fight... Now that he thought of it, when was the last time he'd slept? Most every night recently had only had him trying not to die, and tending to minor and large wounds. The arrowhead that had been buried into his hand still hadn't been forgotten, he swore he could feel his palm pulsating with every breath he drew in.

When he started to question things, that's when he started to notice something else. Something just out of sight, but so, so close, he could hear it. Breathing, his own hitched in his chest, but he continued to move. He had to keep going, if he stopped, whatever the hell was there with him would've for sure taken the chance to pounce. That, and he didn't seem to be in control of his lower half anymore.

Are you-?

We need to keep moving, you're not going to like what's there.

What does that mean?

Trust me.

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Even if he had, he wouldn't have won, he knew that at the very least. That breathing though, it was familiar. Something about it resonated with his very core, and it only attracted him to it more. Although that attraction seemed to be sensed by the other being, who only forced his lower limbs to put one in front of the other a little faster.

Then breathing turned into whispers, incoherent, at first. Only to grow louder, oh, so much louder. The voice was all too familiar, there was however a clear issue with the fact that this particular voice was speaking. And that was because the woman who owned that voice, and Dean's heart, had been dead for a long time. He still didn't know what killed her, he only remembered holding her corpse in his arms as he let out soul crushing shrieks of sorrow, and a seemingly neverending wave of hot tears.

It's-

No, it's not.

Listen, for fucks sake! It's her!

Dean-

No, she's there, she's right fucking there!

Moving his legs had never been harder, and he began to twist his upper half and pull back on his uncontrollable legs to force them to a halt. The only way he was able to force them to stop was with a shot to his own knee, bending over and sending quick fists into it, forcing it to stop moving. He seized the opportunity, taking his control back and staggering back around before making his way to the voice, which called him closer.

Dean, STOP, GODDAMNIT.

Fuck you.

STOP-

Finally reaching the source of the voice, Dean smiled wide underneath his mask. "Doll?" Hopeful, a type of hope that was only attainable through a mind that could no longer think straight. A mixture of his head wound and the lack of sleep had driven him to make irrational choices, ones that if he were fully in it, he'd smack himself for. In the moment however, he felt as though nothing but good could come from this. He reached out, into the dark, watching his arm practically vanish.

"It's-" He stopped, hands latched onto his limb and his heart skipped a beat. When the source of the noise stepped closer though, it sunk into his stomach. It wasn't Star, no. A zombie had taken hold of his arm, and he quickly realized just how badly he'd messed up in this situation. It's jaw opened wide as it quickly leaned down to take a bite out of his clothed arm, letting out a guttural scream, Dean yanked back his arm while kicking his leg forward into its chest.

The monster lost its footing and stumbled back, hitting the ground before making an attempt to stand back up. The scream had drawn attention, too much for his liking. And he could quickly feel more than a few sets of eyes staring dead at him, adrenaline shot through his entire being and he felt a new burst of energy, one that was used to make a mad dash through the trees. He pushed other mobs out of his way, from zombies attempting to tear chunks out of him, to skeletons that shot arrows at him and luckily missed, all the way to creepers.

He didn't stop, he COULDN'T stop. That was true before, but even more so now. Leaping and cringing away from those who tried to end him right there, he didn't take a single second to breathe until he was far out of the forest, and a little more after that. Retalon remained silent throughout the whole endeavour, not wanting to say a word that could somehow mess with Dean any further. It could feel his heartache building up from the experience with that hallucination, but it could also feel the nausea inducing panic and fatigue that was quickly wearing him down.

It all seemed to stop suddenly, at a lit ditch. Torches that had been left there, presumably by someone taking shelter for the night there. Of course, no one remained, but the light kept those bastards at bay. The sudden ending came as Dean finally skidded to a halt, his heels digging hard into the dirt, before he promptly collapsed onto his back. His eyes slammed shut the moment he made contact with the grass, and his entire mind shut down, finally giving him a moment of reprieve.

Some peace amongst the chaos.

[thebrideoftiffany]

king steve au

eddie and henry are acquaintances (idk henry buys weed/single cigarettes from him) but they’re friendly enough for them to joke with each other and Steve’s sees this and corners eddie and questions eddie about everything who what when where and how does he know about henry and eddie recognizes the look on steves face when hes talking about henry and hooooooo boy he gets cocky cus EDDIE KNOWS MORE THAN KING STEVE COULD EVER IMAGINE ofc he doesnt help him in anyway at least not easily anyways skips ahead steve and eddie make a deal eddie helps him get into the in with henry (steve thinks hes a mystery and is amazed by henry when really hes just a quiet kid whos minds his business) but when helping steve eddie also falls for henry so theres this like secret love triangle happening and henry hasnt a single clue that hes in it he just thinks “my god arent those two some weirdos anyway-“ STEVE DOESNT EVEN KNOW HE HAS A CRUSH ON HENRY HE JUST SEES THAT HIM AND EDDIE ARE CLOSE (not really) AND THAT JUST MAKES HIS STOMACH AND CHEST HURT ok i think im done

anon i am OBSESSED. i love this so much. you totally nailed the dynamic i always think of if steve got a crush on henry in high school: he’s a total fascinating enigma to him but all henry really does is be nice and keep to himself. and that steve doesn’t even fully understand what’s going on, just that he wants these awful feelings to stop, and he’s pretty sure henry’s the only one who can make them go away

eddie lording his (actually quite limited) knowledge about henry over steve’s head as payback for him being a douche for all of high school. getting steve to help him with campaigns or some other shit not because he needs the help but because he wants to fuck with him a little if he wants to know henry’s smoking preferences (that’s all he’s really got) and he knows king steve would rather die than anyone to know he’s been helping eddie the freak with his nerd game

eddie letting steve come over to his trailer when he knows henry is going to come buy, which leads to eddie witnessing the most uncomfortable interaction of steve having just no idea how to talk to henry and trying to impress him but henry’s confused to what he’s even trying to say, so eddie jumps in to wingman but surprise! he sucks at that too. so it ends with henry leaving with his weed and utterly baffled by what just happened and steve and eddie not even knowing where to go from here.

and then eddie’s got a crush too and now there’s a competition and eddie is the only of the three that actually understands what’s going on. henry just doesn’t even know its happening, he’s just noticed that steve and eddie are interacting more which is weird but none of his business, steve doesn’t fully understand why they’re trying to one up the other but one thing about him is that when there’s a competition he’s going to win. especially when it comes to henry

except they both suck so hard at it. everything they do backfires and leaves henry thinking their weirder than ever. or worse, that he wants nothing to do with them. and they’re quickly realizing that they’ve fucked it up completely with the guy they both like.

they finally both admit defeat, that henry is never going to be anything but a hot mystery they’ll never be able to attain beyond a few smiles and laughs, and so they truce and drown their sorrows together at a house party. then eddie goes to sell to the other partygoers but when he gets back he finds steve, made loose and genuine by the weed and shots he’d been doing with eddie, playing like darts or something with henry. and they’re both giggly and having fun and eddie’s like. welp. guess if it had to be anyone better it be steve. hope he figures out he wants his tongue down his throat soon

[silvormoon]

💕 for wider Boueibuverse? If possible? If too much, pick one series you want to cover!

Thanks :D

Ohhh, boy, we are opening a can of worms!

Boueibu

KinAtsu - This is the major one for me. I love this ship. They are just so sweet together, and they are just such a fun ship to work with because you can do so much with them. Whether I want to do fluffy domestic stuff or have all kinds of angst and drama, these guys can provide. Good ship, 10/10.

IoRyuu - This is good, but it is the vanilla of Boueibu ships. It's inoffensive, it goes with pretty much everything, it's even enjoyable on its own, but it's not the most exciting thing we have on offer. Fine, but not my go-to choice.

AkoIo - Now we're getting into the more exciting stuff. There's just something fascinating to me about Akoya's crush on Io. There are just so many angles to the dynamic - Akoya's pride versus his vulnerability, Io's avarice versus his kinder side, the way the two of them being together would mess with the dynamic they have with Ryuu… just endless possibility for fun there.

AkoRyuu - The same kind of fun approached from a different direction. This time we've got their ongoing rivaly lending an edge to what could be a budding attraction. I really want to observe Ryuu realizing how vulnerable Akoya is to flattery and just using it shamelessly to reduce Akoya to a helpless puddle any time he feels like it, and poor Akoya just can't stop himself from coming back for more. Solid choice.

IbuKin - Sweet but with interesting nuances. This is one of those things you could do and make it very wholesome, or then again, you could turn it a few degrees to the left and suddenly you've got some whacked out power dynamics going on. Fun to play with!

Ako/Io/Ryuu - Honestly I think they work best as a threesome. They balance each other so nicely. No matter who needs what, there's always someone in the set who can either provide stimulation or reassurance to the other as needed. I really have a hard time envisioning them other way.

IbuKinAtsu - Because Kinshiro is so emotionally damaged, he might as well have two boyfriends propping up his poor sensitive emotions.

Gora/Beppus - I am just fascinated by how bonkers this whole relationship is. Like, on the one hand, you've got these kids. They apparently have no mother, an absent father, no close friends, but this one time there was this guy who risked his life to save them and was so gentle and kind to them that they could never forget him: the one person to ever show them real unconditional love. And he's a superhero! He's on TV! He's famous! And he paid attention to them! And then this little squirrel comes along and uses that against them - teaches them that love is conditional and the only way they can ever attain the affection of the person they're obsessed with is to hold themselves to an impossible standard of perfection, but if they're good and do all the difficult and degrading things demanded of them, they can have that love as a reward. And then, at the moment they get knocked off their pedestals - the moment they see as their greatest failure - they meet this guy they've been dreaming about, and he tells them that it's okay. They don't have to be perfect. All he ever asked of them was for them to grow up safe and healthy, and they did that. Nothing more is required. He's loved them all along, and they just didn't know it. No wonder they burst into tears. And then on the other hand you've got this guy who has lived his life in the service of other people. He's been single-handedly raising his brother, looking after the Kurotama, and saving the world all at the same time. What's it going to be like when these two who are so famous and accomplished and popular become part of his life, and he realizes that these celebrities whom other people would do anything to get close to, just want to be close to him? Heady stuff, I'll bet. Anyway, I don't think they're likely to start dating or anything any time soon, because I think it will be quite some time before the twins can manage to do much more around their idol but stand around gazing in awe, but I'd be interested to see where things are ten years later.

Happy Kiss

Kyotaro/Ata - I mean, that's the obvious one. They wanted for so long to be friends again and just couldn't figure out how to get there. I hope now that they've managed to open up the lines of communication they will be happier.

Kyotaro/Ryouma - I know this seems like it ought to be unbalanced but I don't think it's as bad as all that. Yes, Ryouma seems to spend a lot of time looking after Kyo, but I feel like he is a very anxious person and Kyotaro is his source of security. He's a grounding influence. Just look how sweet and gentle he is with him over that whole cake-eating business in the dice episode.

Ata/Ryouma - Whyyyy didn't these two interact more in canon?

Nanao/Ryouma - Anything to do with Nanao is fun, really. He's a very shippable character.

Nanao/Ichiro - This one is even funner. Ichiro doesn't just bring out Nanao's sadistic side, he seems to positively enjoy it.

Taiju/Nanao - Probably the only "healthy" relationship option for Nanao. Pretty sure Taiju can take whatever he dishes out and throw it right back to him. Which, in a way, takes some of the fun out of things, but it still works.

Ichiro/Taishi - The Ryuu/Io of HK but not as well developed. At least it's fun watching them argue constantly about everything.

Maasa/Taishi - Not just for the line about how Maasa thinks the nerdy ones are cute, but because both of them understand what it is to feel like they have to turn themselves into other people to satisfy some form of social pressure. They should hang out more.

Furanui/Maasa - Not sure how to explain the fascination with this one. Maybe because they're both very repressed characters in their way. They would probably find ways of appealing to each other's baser natures in entertaining ways. (Anyway it seems like magic could solve a lot of Maasa's problems.)

Kyotaro/Karls - I feel like Kyotaro is the only person who really takes Kyo seriously, in terms of recognizing that he is in fact a very capable individual when he has a mind to be, and finding ways to make him use that. They have a good vibe together.

Bonus Content: Robby/Hatchi - Because they're part of the Boueibuverse too, kinda! Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, they're canon and no one is going to convinve me otherwise. I've gotta finish writing that sequel to "Until He Gets Back" someday.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.” His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”