#they don’t all collaborate and decide on who gets what week

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Seeing people on Twitter trying to hate on Taylor swift is so funny like, she’s living in their heads rent free as they scramble for reasons to hate her

[star-girl69]

I Can See You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

I Can See You - Taylor Swift

(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)

warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“What the hell are you all doing?”

You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.

Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.

He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.

He didn’t understand any other kind of power.

The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.

Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.

You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.

“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”

“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.

You need this.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”

You opt to ignore him.

“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”

He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.

“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.

The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.

“Oops,” he says.

He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.

—-

The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.

“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”

“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.

“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”

“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.

They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.

Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.

Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.

“I have a horrible idea.”

“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”

You and Tyla both gag.

“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”

Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”

You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.

No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.

“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”

“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.

“I would,” Jackie agrees.

“I mean, it might actually work.”

—-

You corner her the next day.

She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?

Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.

“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.

“What?”

“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.

She squints at you. “How?”

“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”

She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.

You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.

“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”

She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.

“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”

You ignore that.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When are you gonna spell him?”

“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”

“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.

—-

The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.

Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.

You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.

Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-

“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.”

And she is. She is so painfully pretty.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.

When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.

“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.

The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.

Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.

She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”

You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.

“Uh… yeah.”

She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.

“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”

“That’s fine.”

You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.

Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.

“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.

“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”

Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.

You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.

It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?

Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.

Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.

But you’re too deep in this now.

She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.

She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”

—-

You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.

There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.

You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.

“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”

He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.

You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.

“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”

You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.

You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.

“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.

His hand lands on your knee.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.

You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.

“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”

Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.

“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”

His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.

“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”

You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”

You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.

Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.

You stand in front of her, smiling softly.

“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”

“Of course I am.”

She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.

Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.

Everyone is staring.

It’s exhilarating.

You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.

Her breath tickles your neck.

“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”

You smile and place your hand over hers.

“I know.”

—-

The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.

How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?

You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.

Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.

You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.

After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.

You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.

“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.

“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”

“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”

“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”

She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.

“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.

None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.

Her smile is really pretty.

You laugh along with her after a second.

“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”

“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.

You don’t leave until the stars come out.

—-

The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.

You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”

He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.

“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.

He asks you questions and listens to your answers.

He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.

Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”

“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.

“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.

And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.

—-

All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.

The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.

You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.

It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.

—-

The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.

While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.

You’re okay with a bow.

Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.

As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.

“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,

“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.

“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”

He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.

He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.

“This one’s fit for a lady.”

You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.

You just need to find Clarisse.

“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.

Where the hell is Clarisse?

You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.

You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”

You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.

You’ve grown to like it.

He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.

You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.

You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.

You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.

The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.

But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.

She clears her throat and let’s go of you.

You back up.

“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”

You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.

“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”

“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.

—-

After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.

Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.

You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.

Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.

“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”

She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.

“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”

And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.

You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.

But you don’t.

You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.

The bow swings in your hand.

“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”

Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”

You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.

But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.

—-

On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.

Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.

Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.

You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.

Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.

He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.

“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”

Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.

“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”

She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.

Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.

She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.

“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.

Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.

“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.

“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.

Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.

Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.

Revenge feels to good, and you need this.

As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.

Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.

Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.

“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”

He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.

He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.

He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.

Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.

It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.

She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.

Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.

Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.

But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.

You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.

She stares pointedly at the distance.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.

—-

You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.

You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”

“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”

You sit down on the bed next to hers.

“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”

“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”

She slips off her armor.

“I’m not something to you.”

She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”

You leave silently and you cry in the woods.

—-

When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.

“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.

Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.

Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.

No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.

They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.

When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.

How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?

You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.

But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.

But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.

You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.

Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.

“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.

The words hurt. You say them anyways.

“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”

“Y/N,” Tyla coos.

“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”

—-

You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.

You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.

Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.

You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.

But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.

But you might just be making that up.

Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.

You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.

Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.

You’re alone at the stone table.

Xavier sees that as an opportunity.

Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.

He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.

“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.

“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.

You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.

You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.

—-

There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.

It even makes you feel a little excited.

“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”

“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”

“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.

Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”

“Supportive,” you muse.

Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”

“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.

Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.

You look around the room.

Most of your siblings are wearing worse.

And you need to get your mind off her.

“I’m wearing that.”

Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.

You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.

—-

The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.

You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.

Everything is so funny in the firelight.

Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.

There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.

“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”

Your heels sink into the dirt.

“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.

You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.

“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.

“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.

“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”

Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”

“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”

You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.

“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.

And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.

Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.

“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”

She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.

“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She laughs, holding you up.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.

Her face falls.

It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.

“Y/N, I-”

You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.

“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.

They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.

You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.

“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.

You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.

You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.

You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.

“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.

“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”

He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.

His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.

He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.

You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.

When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.

She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.

Good.

You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.

His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.

When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.

His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.

He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.

“N-not here. Not yet.”

His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.

“Maybe later,” you whisper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.

“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.

“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”

He’s ripped away from you.

You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.

You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.

Xavier only seems to find it funny.

“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”

She punches him again. Again.

“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”

One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”

She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.

“Clarisse-”

“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”

A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.

“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.

You see it fade from his eyes.

It shouldn’t be.

You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.

“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.

He holds his hands to his already red face.

“You’re a fucking witch.”

Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.

—-

She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.

She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.

“Do you need something?” you mutter.

“I was selfish,” she starts.

You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.

“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”

It wasn’t true.

“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You place your hand on the grass next to you.

She sits, you don’t look at each other.

“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”

You smile.

“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”

“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”

“Did you mean it?”

She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.

“Mean what?”

“That it wasn’t true.”

“It wasn’t true.”

You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.

“I-I was just angry, and I-”

You’re sick of hearing her talk.

It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.

Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.

The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.

You pull away.

“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.

It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.

When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.

You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.

You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.

—-

y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before

clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl

clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)

—-

y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!

clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!

—-

clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up

—-

clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE

literally everyone: YOUR girl????

clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him

everyone: not a logical solution???

—-

shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM

also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Angel Face, Devil Thoughts

Summary: The first time Rafe Cameron saw you, he knew he had to have you. Whatever it takes. Wk: 6.8K

•This is a collaboration with @babygorewhore🖤 I had so much fun working on this with you baby, I love you so much!!!•

Warnings: Possesive!Rafe, obsessive behaviors (Rafe and reader), kidnapping, drugging, kinda clueless reader (or is she…?), daddy kink, borderline stalker behavior, spanking, hair pulling, jealous!Rafe, bondage, age gap (Rafe is 35 reader is 26), spit kink, oral, unprotected sex. Dark fic, 18+MNDI!! (Divider by me)

Rafe Cameron’s legs turned as he swung the golf club, perfectly hitting the ball as it landed near the hole in the ground yards ahead. He smirked to himself. Topper clapped a hand on his shoulder. His grip firm and Rafe cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know how you do it. I’ve never beaten you.”

Rafe shrugged. “No one can,” He chuckled and scanned the scenery of the yards ahead of him.

It was a beautiful day. It wasn’t too hot and he was able to wear nicer clothing than he usually did for golf. A simple button down shirt and comfortable pants allowed him to easily pick up his bag of clubs and make his way to the small section of the park where food and drink was served. By Pogues and the middle class.

But he wasn’t as involved in the war between kooks and pogues. At 35, he truly had better things to do. Run the empire and look after Wheezie who was a young teenager now. After Wards death, his sisters random marriage, his own growth over the years, Rafe just wanted to make money, fuck, and…make more money.

But then his eyes widened and he almost stopped short when he saw you. And his entire world came to a halt.

You were wearing a simple outfit, a little black tennis skirt and a polo tee that bore the logo of the franchise representing the park. Your hair was out of your face, you were wearing makeup and you were currently talking to Wheezie, who giggled and blushed at a young boy across from you both. Rafe’s footsteps slowed but he continued your way. He was close enough to hear the conversation.

“I think he’s really cute. But I don’t know how to approach him.” Wheezie complained and he wanted to roll his eyes over her thirtieth crush of the week when you smiled at her. And he melted inside.

“That’s okay. All you have to do is wave and smile. Men are easy.” You winked at her and he swallowed thickly.

You were so beautiful. Delicate. Angelic. Perfect. You radiated kindness and a youthful spark that he hadn’t exposed himself to in a long time. He was probably about ten years your senior but he didn’t give a shit. When he saw Wheezie walk away from you and your adorable smile continued to grow, that's when he decided.

You were his.

He cleared his throat and prepared to further approach you after abandoning Topper. He had no issue with shyness or other bullshit younger men dealt with but something about you made him hesitate. Why were you working? Someone as perfect as you deserved to be treated gently, like a princess. You needed to be kept.

Rafe could do that. Easily.

As he walked to you, your pretty doe eyes looked up at him, and a smirk so faint crossed your face that he almost missed it.

“Haven’t seen you before. Sorry if my little sister annoyed you. But I have a soft spot for her.” Rafe didn’t bother with introducing himself. You’d be screaming his name soon enough.

“Hi,” when you gave him your name, he almost got chills. Even your name was perfect. You were an angel. The way your feet rolled, trying to shorten the distance between you both was adorable. “She was cute! I remember my first crush.” You twirl your hair and Rafe gave you a hum of approval.

“What’s a pretty little girl like yourself doing working here? With looks like that, I figured you’d be a model.” Rafe complimented and instead of becoming shy, you batted your eyelashes and grinned.

“I’m thinking about it.” You glanced back at the bar cart, “but I have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you finally, Rafey.” The nickname made his lips quirk in a sadistic smile. A nickname already? One he never allowed others to use.

But you weren’t anyone.

You were his little bunny.

Rafe stayed longer than usual, watching you from a distance and leering at the way your skirt hugged your ass and hips. You were a little clumsy but he enjoyed that. He knew you’d have to rely on him for everything. You needed him.

When you clocked out, Rafe was horrified to see you start to walk down the road. You didn’t have a car. And that made him feel rage. How could someone allow you to walk home alone? He certainly wouldn’t. Not his pretty kitty.

Rafe marched forward, catching up with you before his hand gently touched your arm. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to walk home. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

He expected you to deny it but then you grinned and nodded rapidly.

“Yes! That sounds great!”

This would be too easy. But he was worried. What if a bad man got a hold of you? How would he live with himself if something happened to you? He’d never let it go. No. His darling little girl would never get hurt.

“Come on. My car is this way.”

Rafe lagged behind you ever so slightly, despite his legs being much longer than yours. He couldn’t resist getting another peak of your ass in that little uniform. He also couldn’t resist when you stumbled as he was helping you into the passenger seat and one of his hands landed on the skin of your ass just under your skirt. He had to hold back a chuckle at the sight of you displaying yet another act of clumsiness. You were so helpless, fragile, too good for this world. He had to protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, even yourself.

“Alright, Angel face, where am I headed?” Rafe buckles himself in, one of his long fingers hitting the push to start on his fancy sports car. He glances over at you, noticing that you haven’t buckled yourself up yet. He lightly shakes his head before leaning over the center console to buckle your belt for you.

“Oh, thank you, Rafey.” You run your fingers down his forearm, batting your lashes at him again. He takes note of your chipped nail polish, he’ll have to remedy that immediately. He’s definitely going to be calling the nicest salon on the island first thing tomorrow. Get you the full treatment, hair, nails, massage, whatever you want. “It’s on figure 8, I’m actually staying three houses down from you, I think. It’s my grandparents old house.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard about their passing. I’m sorry about that, doll.” He smiles at you softly, earning the cutest little grin in return. “Is that what you’re doing here? You inherit their house or something?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. They left it to my mom but she doesn’t have any interest in living here so her and dad are selling it. We came here to go through all their stuff and get it ready to put on the market.”

“What about you? You like it here?” You cross your legs, and Rafe can see how deliciously your thighs squish together out of the corner of his eye. He stifled a groan at the sight.

“Yeah, it’s nice. It’s a lot different from my hometown but it’s really pretty here. And I make better money than I did at my waitressing job back home.” Your voice is so cute, Rafe wants to drown in it.

“If your moms parents left her all that money, how come you’re working?” He takes a chance to look over at you at a red light, eyes roaming your form, committing as much as he could to memory.

“They are still dealing with all the legal stuff, and I don’t really know if they’ll even give me any. I don’t think they trust me with it. I haven’t always made the best life choices.” You sigh, a frown spreading across your lips, a crease in your brow. Rafe hates it, how dare they upset you? How dare they not help you? If you aren’t great with making choices, he doesn’t mind making them for you.

“Ah, makes sense. But a pretty girl like you? You deserve everything you could ever want. Waited on hand and foot.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you, Rafe. But I’ve always worked for what I want, ya know? I don’t really mind it.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Well, I think you deserve better than that, s’all im saying. I’m gonna set up a spa day for you, alright? What are your days off?” This is a win, win for him. He can spoil you a little and figure out your work schedule.

“Oh! You don’t have to do th-“

“Angel, I don’t have to do anything, but I’d really like to do this for you. Let me.” It comes out like more of a command than a request and he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your throat at his tone.

“Alright, if you insist. I work Tuesday to Saturday every week. So I have tomorrow off, since today is Saturday.” You smile at him, and he thinks it’s adorable how proud you seem to be stating simple facts. You seemed like a bit of an air head but Rafe didn’t mind, he liked that, it would be easier to guide you.

“Okay, I’m gonna call and make you an appointment for tomorrow.” He pulls into the driveway of your grandparents home and takes his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Put your number in here and I’ll text you the details.”

Your smile is wide and he feels like he can practically see a sparkle in your eyes. He wants to give you the fucking world. You add your number to his phone, putting yourself in as “Angel Face” with a little bunny next to it. You give him his phone back and he smirks down at it, you were almost in too cute to bare.

“Well, thank you so much for the ride, and for tomorrow too! You’ve been so kind to me and you hardly even know me, I wish I could repay you somehow.” A little pout forms on your lips as you look up at him through those god damned lashes.

“I’m sure we can figure something out, Angel face. For now, be a good girl for me and get inside safely. Make sure you lock the door behind you. I’ll text you soon about your little spa day.” He smirks at you, resting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. The cutest little squeak leaves your lips and he can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you moan his name. “Also, no more walking home, alright? I’m usually done with my work shit by the time the club closes so I’ll pick you up from now on.”

You look like you’re about to protest, but it’s almost like you think better of it. Instead you give him one of those sweet smiles.

“Sounds good, thank you again, I’ll make sure I’m a real good girl for you. Get lots of rest for my big day tomorrow. Good night Rafey.”

“Night, Angel.” You pat his hand before grabbing your purse and exiting his car. He swears you bent over a little extra to give him a flash of your little black panties, but he’s not complaining. As long as he’s the only man you’re doing that for. He’s totally and utterly addicted to you already, and he won’t stop until he owns you completely. Rafe quickly calls the salon owner's private number, knowing they’re probably closed by now. He offers her however much it takes to get you in the next day before typing out a text to you.

Your appointment is at 12:30 tomorrow, I think baby pink stiletto nails would compliment you well. I'll pick you up at noon, don’t be late. Sweet dreams, bunny.

Rafe eagerly pulls into the salon parking lot the next day. He picked you up at noon on the dot, you came bouncing down the driveway with a bright smile on your face. He must say seeing you out of your work clothes was a spiritual experience for him. You were wearing this little black mini skirt, and a little light pink tank top. You had on the most impractical shoes for a place like this, big, chunky, studded platform Mary Jane’s, with little white ruffle socks. The thing that really did him in though? The black o-ring choker around your neck. It was all so contradictory, the pink, the studs, the little socks. He’s never seen a girl like you in all his years. He needs you so badly.

Last night felt like one of the longest nights of his life, he never thought he could miss someone he just met so much. But he was up nearly all night, his thoughts riddled with you. Your thighs, the way your tits looked in that little work polo, the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you from behind. Rafe has never jerked off so much in one night. Not even when he was younger. All he can think about is filling you up, spoiling you, maybe putting a few babies in you once he’s gotten his fill of alone time with you. He walks into the salon with a pep in his step, his eyes scanning the room for your beautiful face.

His features immediately harden when he spots you though. You’re sitting pretty in one of the plush pedicure chairs your feet propped up while a man paints your dainty little toe nails. His nostrils flare, anger surging through him at the sight of another man’s hands on his angel. His expensive loafers thud against the ground as he stomps towards you.

“Rafe, hi! You’re early! But this is the last thing, so you shouldn’t have to wait for long.” You give him that saccharine smile, completely oblivious to his internal meltdown.

“Hi angel.” He smiles at you, but he doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You about done with my girl here?”

He looks down at the man as he coats the polish on your toenails, wanting nothing more than to cut his fingers off one by one for even thinking he’s worthy of touching you. Let alone doing it. He doesn’t give a shit if he’s paying.

“Yeah, this is the last step then I’ll have her out of here.” The guy smiles at him before returning to his task.

“I didn’t know dudes worked at places like this.” Rafe scoffs.

“Rafe! That’s kind of a rude thing to say… Everyone here has been so helpful and kind! I’ve had a great day!” Your lips form into a pout, your brows furrowed. The last thing he wants to do is upset you, or scare you off. He needs you to trust him. Plus he’s not the same hot headed guy he used to be, he’s a man now. He can keep this to himself.

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry. Thanks for treating her right, man.” Rafe forces the most polite smile he can muster in his direction.

“No problem, just doing my job.” He taps his fingers against the polish, making sure it’s dry. “Which I’m all done with, you’re free to go ma’am. You can pay up front.”

“Thank you so much!! They look perfect!!” You wiggle your toes, your hands clapping together excitedly. You’re so cute Rafe hardly remembers why he was mad, hardly. He still wants to singe that guy’s finger tips off. “You like them?”

“Yeah bunny, those are gorgeous.” Rafe smirks, pleased to see the baby pink polish on not just your fingers but your toes too. You even went with the shape he suggested. You’re such a good girl already.

He walks you to the counter, using his black card to pay for everything. He even leaves a generous tip, despite how much he’s still simmering with jealousy over that man touching you. He wanted to make a good impression on you, he needs you to see how perfect he is for you.

“Lemme see you, pretty girl.” Rafe offers you his hand so he can spin you around, a low whistle escaping his lips as you twirl. “Gorgeous.”

“Oh my god, thank you! I really had such a great day. I got a massage. Then they did highlights and a blow out on my hair. And of course I got these pretty nails!!” You giggle, holding your hands out to him to give him a closer look.

“Very pretty, bunny. The little bows are a nice touch. I knew that color would be perfect for you. You ready to go?”

“Yup! All set.”

Rafe leads you out to his car, helping you in and buckling your seatbelt just like he has the last two times you've been in it. He drives towards your grandparents house with an almost uneasy feeling. He doesn’t want to let you go yet. Or ever. He left you alone for a few hours and regardless if it was his job or not another man had his hands all over you. He didn’t like it. You were too precious to be going around without him. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

When he pulls up to your house you thank him over and over again, telling him no one has ever done anything this nice for you before. How could they not have? You deserve a thousand times more than just this, and he’s going to give it to you. You lean over and leave a sticky lipgloss kiss on his cheek. His heart feels like it’s nearly going to burst out of his chest and he has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out and kissing you like his life depends on it. You make sure to bend over again when you get out of his car, and it just drives him even more crazy. He was going to make you his, by any means necessary.

Rafe carefully selected another item into the cart as he walked down the aisle at the store. The aisles were nearly empty since he picked the perfect time to arrive and buy things for his little girl. His shopping was usually done by someone who worked for him but how could he allow anyone to touch things that were yours? Only he could give you these things. His little angel wouldn’t ever have to worry about anyone ever again.

In the cart were stuffed animals, blankets, decorations and even coloring books. He had already assembled the basics in the bedroom he specifically designed for you two days later after he had been driving you home. The room would be ready tonight.

His caretaker nature allowed him to easily pick up on things you liked. Soft, sweet and gentle natured you. His baby girl.

As he returned to his home with several bags, he didn’t allow anyone to put things away. The room was a soft pink color. Completely removed of any objects that could cause you harm. Stuffed animals, a tv set, a computer that would be monitored, and a soft bed with fluffed pillows. Rafe stood straight and admired his work. Yes. This was perfect for a sweet girl like you. Everything about this plan would go perfectly. His little bimbo would fall for his trap and he didn’t have a moment of doubt or guilt. Why would he? You needed him. And he wouldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.

Like clockwork, Rafe heard the doorbell ring and he knew it was Barry. Here to accomplish his part of the task at hand. Rafe opened his front door after begrudgingly leaving your bedroom and Barry leaned against the frame.

“Sup, country club.” He dangled a bag full of small pills. “Got the dough. You have my money?”

Rafe handed over the wad of cash and accepted the plastic bag. “This better be the real fucking thing or I’ll kill you.” He warned and Barry smirked.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so scared of you big boy. Pretty fucked up though. What you’re planning to do with that chick. But it’s safe I guess. Not gonna hurt her.”

“That’s all I need to know.” Rafe pressed the bag against his chest and Barry crossed his arms.

“Ain’t ever seen you like this, bro. When you gonna get her?”

“Tonight. When she’s on her way home. Pretty little bunny doesn’t have a car. She’s making this easy for me.” Rafe chuckled.

“Aight, I don’t need to know anymore.” Barry held his hands up and walked away towards his bike. “Careful, Rafe. Sounds like you’ve really fallen for her.”

Rafe nodded and a twinge of emotion made him feel warm. He swore to himself he’d never fall in love. And now look at him. Planning on taking this poor girl but he was doing her a favor. She was his and his alone. He would protect her. Even if it was against her will. Even if it meant forcing her.

Later, Rafe was in his car waiting to pick you up with your favorite drink. A milkshake. His trembling hands gripped the steering wheel as the minutes went by on his digital clock.

You will be coming out soon. All his. His precious baby. Rafe craned his neck and finally saw you walking towards his car. His body tensed and his cock twitched with adrenaline as you smiled when you saw him. Twirling your braids, you waved at him while approaching the car with a half slip.

“Hi, Rafey! You’re right on time!” You said as you happily slid into the car.

Rafe nodded. “Of course I am, baby. I’m a man of my word. Here, I got you something, Angel.” He handed you the milkshake, his fingers twitching as you grinned and immediately wrapped your lips around the straw. You moaned at the taste and his mouth watered at your pretty sounds.

You fell for it.

Rafe inhaled slowly as he started driving, but not in the direction of your home. It didn’t matter anyway, you were drinking too eagerly to really notice.

“It’s a pretty day, Rafe! Almost as pretty as you are!” You giggled and Rafe reached over, placing a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze.

“Thank you, bunny. You’re such a sweet girl you know that? My sweet girl.” He muttered the last part and he noticed your movements were growing slower.

You blinked, your doe eyes becoming unfocused. The Valium was taking effect and he smirked with satisfaction. God, you were such a little bimbo slut.

“Rafey…I feel so tired…” you yawned and he traced his ringed fingers along your skin where your skirt had rode up.

“Go to sleep, baby. You’ll be all nice and safe when you wake up.” Rafe trembled as you slumped over, your mouth parting as you drifted to a deep sleep.

That’s it. That’s my fucking girl. So obedient.

Your body feels weighed down, you try to open your eyes but it feels like someone put bags of sand on top of them. The last thing you remember is falling asleep in Rafe’s car, but what you’re laying on right now is definitely not a car seat. It feels like the most plush mattress you’ve ever laid on, even softer than the one in your grandparents guest room. Your head feels like it’s resting on a cloud, and the air smells nice. Like vanilla and strawberries.

After a few minutes of struggling you finally force your eyes to open slightly. There’s a soft warm light illuminating the room, and what looks like a sheer pink canopy on the ceiling above you. Your body still feels heavy but you’re able to move your hands now, spreading your fingers and running your palms across a silky soft blanket. You turn your head to the side and your eyes land on a pink wall with the prettiest vanity you’ve ever seen pushed up against it. You weave your head the other way, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. Up against the opposite wall there’s a rack filled with clothes and from what you can tell it’s all things you’d wear.

You try to push yourself up on your palms, now extremely aware of how dry your mouth is, how thirsty you are. But your body still feels too weak. You let out a little groan and lull your head back against the soft pillow.

“Hey, hey, don’t try to move, Angel. I’ve got you.”

“Rafe?” Your voice comes out a cracked whisper, you can’t see him, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s him.

“Yeah bunny, it’s me, daddy’s here.” The self proclaimed title sends a shiver down your spine.

“Daddy? What’s going on? Where am I?” You’re about to try to push yourself up again when Rafe comes into view. He’s towering over you, looking down at you with what only could be described as adoration.

“You’re home.” His large hand reaches out to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb running over the apple of your cheek.

“Home? This isn’t my grandparents' house - I - I’m so thirsty.” You nuzzle into his palm almost subconsciously. You’ve spent so many nights now dreaming about his touch, more than just the brief thigh touches or a hand on your shoulder. It felt so nice.

“Shh shh, baby it’s okay. Don’t overwhelm yourself. Here, I’ll help you sit up, I have some water here.” His snakes one arm underneath your head and the other behind your knees, hoisting you up against the headboard with ease. Now that you’re sitting up you have a better view of the room. It’s beautiful. Something out of your wildest dreams.

“Where - where are we?” You ask with wide eyes, your voice filled with borderline awe.

“I told you Angel, we’re home. This is for you. I did this all for you.” He takes the cap off the water bottle sitting on the nightstand and holds it up to your lips. You eagerly chug it down, the cool liquid calming the burn in your throat.

“For me? Rafe? How did I get here? Did you change my clothes?” Now that you’re feeling more aware you realize you’re no longer wearing your work uniform. Instead you’re wearing a little silk nighty with white lace embellishments. It’s soft and comfortable and honestly gorgeous.

“Bunny… I need you to listen to me, alright?” He discards the water bottle so he can sit on the bed next to you, his hand returning to your face. You nod against his palm, looking up at him with big wide eyes. “Use your words.”

“I’m listening, Rafey.”

“Call me daddy when I’m talking to you like this, alright baby?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“I - fuck - I did what I had to do alright? I did what’s best for you. You’re too fragile, too precious for this world. That first day I saw you working at the club, I knew I needed you. Knew you needed me.” You try to hold in your smirk, you really do. But you were already starting to crack as it was, and this? This isn’t something you would’ve expected.

“Oh I know, daddy, I see the way you look at me… you didn’t answer my question though. How did I get here, huh? Did you slip something in that milkshake? Knock me out? Strip me down and get a good look at my little body?” You look at him with a Cheshire smile, and a gleam in your eye he’s never seen.

“Hey, I didn’t fuckin’ do any weird shit if that’s what you’re thinking, I want you fully aware of your surroundings the first time I have you. That is until I fuck you so good you forget everything but my name…”

“So kidnapping and drugging me isn’t considered weird? Got it.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “You know, I knew you wanted me, but I didn’t think you’d go this far. I have to say, daddy, it’s kind of hot.”

“The fuck you mean you knew?” His brows furrow, his nostrils slightly flare and you can tell you hit a nerve. But you just couldn’t keep up this clueless girl act anymore, not after he went to all these lengths just to get you. You needed him to know you wanted him just as bad.

“I mean, I’m not blind. You look at me like you want to put me in a cage and never let me go. You drive me home everyday. You offered to buy me new nails the first day you met me. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice how jealous you got when you saw that guy doing my pedicure. And guess what? The funny part is, you didn’t need the drugs to get me. I would’ve just let you take me.”

“You knew this entire time how badly I wanted you?” You nod and his hand reaches out to grip your jaw, rougher than before. “I told you to use your words, bunny.”

“Yes, I knew.” You smirk at him and he adjusts his grip so he’s pinching your cheeks.

“And you still continued to tease me like a little slut? Bend over and flash me your little panties every time you got out of my car? Always pushing those tits up against my arm and batting your lashes at me? Was that all some kind of act? You trynna scam me?” His hand migrates from your face to your throat, his thick fingers tightening against your esophagus deliciously.

“Daddy, no. It wasn’t an act at all. I want you so bad. Just wanted to see how far I could push you before you finally cracked. I have to say, you exceeded my expectations. I can’t believe you did all of this just for me. That’s so sexy.”

“Oh, so you’re just a little fuckin’ tease. That it?”

“I wasn’t teasing, you could’ve had me any time. You just got in your head that you had to carry out this elaborate scheme to keep me, when I’m already yours.” Rafe practically growls, he feels tricked, he feels frustrated that he risked hurting you with those drugs when you wanted him all along. But most of all? He’s so fucking horny.

“Well, I want you right fuckin’ now.” He uses his grip on your throat to push you onto your back and eases his body over top of yours.

Your breathing intensifies as you give him a small smirk. Of course you knew he wanted you. You may be a bimbo but you had common fucking sense. His blue eyes burned whenever he looked at you with a hunger that was impossible to deny. The material of his shirt rubbed against your bare skin, your slip riding up from his movements that left you pinned on the mattress under his mercy. His palm pressed against your throat felt heavenly, his fingers locked around the sides of your neck held you down posessively.

“You fucking slut. You liked it this the whole time. Liked playing with me. I’m gonna make you regret it.” Rafe flipped you over, grabbing your hips and yanking you up on your hands, your ass up in the air. Your pussy clenches around nothing before Rafe’s hand slaps your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward as his other hand flies to your hair, holding you in place with a makeshift ponytail.

“Apologize to daddy. Say you’re sorry.” He growls and you want to be a brat and say no, but his fingers slide from your hair down, down, down to your entrance, sinking knuckle deep in your cunt. His two digits play inside you, curling in a come here motion and your slick welcomes him in further as his thumb brushes against your clit with a delicious pressure. “Mmm, wanna give you love, bunny, but you’ve been a bad girl.” He grunts and you whine with your face pressed against the bed.

“Sorry, daddy! I’m sorry I acted bad!” You shriek when he spanks you again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. He spanks you again, and again and again. Tears prick your eyes and you hear him shift as he releases you. You fall forward, crashing onto the blanket and you feel his hands take your ankles. He moves you around on your back, dragging you to the headboard.

“Dumb little kitty. Bet you’re so wet from this. Let’s see,” He gives you a predatory smile and shoves off his black tie. He pins your wrists down, using your weakness to his advantage as he loops it around your hands. He ties you to the headboard and his knee spreads your legs, making you feel the air on your damp panties.

Rafe breathes through his mouth in a taunting huff, “look at that. You’re such a little whore for me. Wet from me hurting you? Drugging you? God damn you’re so pathetic. I love it.”

As you jerk, trying to move you realize you’re completely trapped by him. Rafe looms over you, cupping your jaw. “Open your fucking mouth,” He hisses and you immediately obey. He spits inside, “swallow it. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” You shudder at his filthy words.

Rafe crawls down, sliding your panties down your legs. A groan escaping him at your sticky pussy on display for him as he spreads your knees.

“Mmmm, so good. You’re so worked up.” He situates himself on the bed, burying his mouth against you, his tongue lewdly licks at your clit like an ice cream cone. His heated lips suck at your center with loud moans as he grinds into the mattress.

Your hips buck, his nose continually brushing against the underside of your clit as he laps all around before thrusting his tongue inside your entrance, gathering every single ounce of precum he can get.

“Fuck, daddy. Feels so good, I needed this.” You barely manage and he chuckles.

“Desperate, huh? Needed daddy to fuck this tight little pussy? My little girl is such a good bunny.”

Your stomach tightens, a tightening coil in your belly growing the more he licks you up relentlessly. He rips away, whipping your juices from his chin. His cock inside his trousers looks painfully hard.

“I’m going to make you fucking scream.”

Rafe pushes himself up on his knees, easily ridding himself of his button up and then moving onto his slacks. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, you knew he’d be big, but it’s even better than you imagined. All those nights trying to stifle the moans of his name so your parents didn’t hear you.

“Fuck daddy, your cock is so pretty.” You’re practically drooling. “Fuck my mouth.”

He finds himself questioning if you’re even real at this point. His little angel all tied up and laid out, practically begging him to use your pretty mouth. He straddles your face, the head of his heavy cock brushes against your lips and you flick your tongue out. You moan at the taste of the bead of precum that gathered at the tip.

“Fuckin’ look at you, gonna let me use this little mouth?” He taps his cock against your outstretched tongue a few times before using his free hand to grip onto your hair, pulling your head back. “Open wide, slut.”

You stick your tongue out as far as it can go and he glides his length across it. He thrusts slow a few times before shoving his cock down your throat, causing you to gag.

“Yeah, that’s right, fucking choke on it.” You close your lips around him, taking a deep breath through your nose as he begins to assault your throat with rough thrusts. His groans are almost animalistic as he uses you for his own pleasure. You moan around his cock, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of being at his mercy. “Mmm bunny, this mouth is so fucking good. But I bet that little pussy is ever better. She was practically begging for me to fill her. Is that what you want?”

He uses his grip on your hair to pull you off his cock, leaning back so he can look down at you with a condescending pout.

“Please daddy, want it so bad. Want your cock, want your cum. Fill me up.” His large hand grips your face, punching your cheeks together as he tilts your head from side to side.

“You’re such a good little bunny, begging for daddy’s cock like my own personal little slut. That’s all you’re gonna be from now on. Mine to fill, to use, to fuck, to spoil. You’re never going to have to think about a single thing ever again.” He expertly undoes the tie binding your wrists, gripping onto your hips and flipping you onto your stomach again.

“Yes daddy, that’s all I want, just want you. Wanna be your good girl. Want you to take care of me.” You whine into the sheets. “Please fuck me daddy, please don’t make me wait any-“

You’re cut off abruptly when he pulls your ass up into the air, lining his cock up with your entrance. He fills you up in one rough thrust, your slick walls practically sucking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking into you at a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck yeah, this fucking pussy is even better than I imagined. You’re so fucking tight, never gonna stop fucking you baby. Gonna keep you full day and night.”

“Daddy daddy daddy, it feels so good. So good. You’re so big.” You let him take you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You’re gripping the sheets so tight you’re scared your new nails are going to tear through them and drool is dripping down your chin and onto the fabric.

“Yeah, fucking take it, slut. Take this fucking dick.” He leans forward, his thick forearm snaking around your throat. He uses his grip on you to pull you up so your back is flush against his chest. You didn’t think anyone could ever be so deep inside of you, and the pressure on your throat makes your head light in the best way.

“Oh my god, daddy, I’m gonna cum.” His free hand finds your clit, and the minute he’s circling it your orgasm is crashing over you. You thrash in his hold, a pornographic moan ripping through you.

“Fuck yes angel, fucking cum for your daddy. Pussy is fucking squeezing me. Gonna make me cum. Look at me.” His hand leaves your clit, roughly gripping onto your jaw so he can pull your head to the side. It’s borderline painful the way your neck is craned so you can look up into his blue eyes. But when he smashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss you can’t bring yourself to care.

Rafe continues to fuck into you, his tongue invading your mouth, intertwining with yours. He pushes his hips flush against your ass as he reaches his high, filling you with ropes of his cum.

“That’s it, good fucking girl. You're so good for me.” He releases your throat, pulling out of you slowly, causing you to whine. He eases you onto your back, leaning over top of you to place a much more tender kiss than before on your lips. “Let me clean you up baby.”

He gets up, quickly wetting a washcloth in the ensuite bathroom. He rushes back to your side, running the warm cloth along your folds.

“Mmm thank you, daddy. That feels nice.” You hum.

“Yeah? Gotta take care of my angel, you’re my responsibility now. I’m going to do everything and anything you need.” He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side so you can rest your head on his chest. “I am sorry about the way I went about this. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The first day I saw you I knew I needed to have you. Knew you were meant for me.”

“I feel the same, daddy. All you had to do is ask. Although, I must admit, it was honestly pretty sexy this way. You might be observant but there’s still a lot you have to learn about me.” You happily nuzzle into his chest. You’ve never felt so safe before. “I love my room by the way, it’s perfect. Does this mean I don’t get to sleep with you though?” You pout.

“Of course you get to sleep with me, Angel. I just wanted you to have a space of your own here.” He runs his fingers through your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There’s going to be ground rules that I want you to follow, but we can go over those when you’re more clear headed. Wanna take a bath?”

“Yeah Rafey, a bath sounds nice.”

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of you, quick work was made with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

[bueckerrss]

Oneshot idea:

Chris or Matt and you are in a relationship. They don’t stick up for you when a celeb girl hits on them in public to “keep the peace” but this leads to ANGST.

was it worth it? - m. sturniolo

warnings: cursing, fighting, angst

basically the request but with my own little twist.

————————————————————————

here i was at yet another stupid influencer party that my boyfriend dragged me to, he knows this isn’t really my thing, you see matt and i have been together for nearly a year but we’ve decided to keep our relationship a secret from the public just a few friends knowing.

matt was currently talking to group of people potentially talking about collaborating or something similar to that, i was a few feet behind him giving him the space he needed.

i looked at him from the kitchen seeing how he was laughing and joking around with his friends until a girl came touching him in ways i didn’t like, leaning into his ear whispering things with a smile on her face even making her punch him in a flirting way she turned around and i finally got a good look at her. my heart dropped.

chelsea monroe an instagram model with blonde hair and blue eyes— knowing who she is and not in a good way— was now flirting with my boyfriend what hurt more was that he flirted back.

i was less than six feet away witnessing my boyfriend cheating on me like i wasn’t even there trying to distract myself from the heartbreak i started speaking to madi.

-

nick and chris had ubered back to their house an hour ago i would’ve gone with them but matt had told me he wanted to drive me home and that’s what he did.

“are you hungry?” he asked as we got into his car “no” i responded looking forward he started the car his hand finding its way on my thigh making me push it off making him put it back i pushed it off again.

“y/n are you okay?” he asked as he looked towards the road and back to me “yup.” i responded “are you sure?” he urged “definitely” i replied. “y/n” he stated “matthew” i said looking at him with a straight face “okay, what the fuck is wrong you never refer to me as matthew unless something is wrong” he said looking at me for a spilt second before turning back at the road.

“nothing is wrong.” i mumbled with a straight face “y/n don’t be fucking immature and tell me what the fuck is wrong!” he argued “nothing is fucking wrong now drop it!” i slightly yelled.

the rest of the ride was quiet the only sound being the radio playing faintly, as we arrived at my house i quickly unbuckled my belt and started to open my door when matt spoke again.

“i’m sorry for what i said but if you need anything just call me okay?” he says softly “okay.” i said before i fully got out of the car “i love you” he stated before i slammed the car door and made my way into my house quickly locking it.

not even five seconds after i got in i get a phone call pulling it out and looking at the caller id

“what matt?” i sighed “you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back” he mumbled “yea and?” “you never not say it back” he sighed “yea well i’m tired bye” i replied hanging up.

that was the last time i spoke to him, that was friday night now it’s sunday i’ve spent all weekend crying ignoring all his texts and calls only keeping contact with chris and nick.

-

i kept the no contact thing all week and before i knew it it was friday again knowing the triplets had another party to go to i decided to have a night to myself and rewatch ‘supernatural’ while eating ice cream or any other snacks i could get my hands on.

i was three hours into the show when my phone lit up with a notification ‘matthew.sturniolo just posted on their story.’

clicking on the notification my heart drops i couldn’t believe it he was posing with chelsea she was leaning into him his hand on her waist a perfect view of his neck— hickies covering his neck and lipstick slightly smudge on his lips her lipstick.

that was my breaking point i paused my tv walking towards my room pulling out his duffel bag and a box in the duffel i put all the clothes he’s left here over the time and in the box all the the gifts he’s given me. i was done and i wasn’t going to let him hurt me.

i don’t remember falling asleep but i woke up on the couch with a few missed calls from matt, i didn’t answer but i instead texted chris and nick in the group chat we had without matt

ME:

could yall come over? i have a few things i need you guys to pick up.

CHRIS:

yea let me just order an uber we’ll be there in like 10 minutes or so

NICK:

we’re on our way.

after a few minutes i hear a knock on my door already opening the door i let the boys in and made my way to my room to pick up the duffel taking it back to the living room and handing it to a very confused nick.

“give that to matthew” i said with a straight face “matthew? full name that can’t be good what’d he do” asked nick “he cheated” i stated calmly “he what?!” the both replied nearly yelling “yea you guys didn’t see the photo?” i pulled out my phone to show them the picture “that son of a bitch!” exclaimed chris “well good you’re breaking up with him” chimed in nick “wait i thought you’d be more heartbroken about this” question nick “well i was the first time it happened but i realized that if he really loved me he wouldn’t be a two timing bitch” i scoffed

“good for you!” praised chris as he smiled at me with that nicks phone rang “speaking of the devil” he sighed “what’s up matt? what? no we haven’t heard from her” he smiled winking at me signaling that he was asking about me after a while they hang up “well we have to go but we’re in your side no matter what!” nick said as he got up and gave me a side hug then picked up the duffel heading outside.

“if you ever need anything or something don’t hesitate to call or text me or nick okay?” he mumbled into my hair as we hugged “okay thank you so much i love you guys so much” i mumbled back letting go of the hug.

-

ring ring

i picked up my phone to matt calling i hung up and turned back around to go to sleep but my phone kept buzzing not letting me.

“hello?” i responded groggily “what the actual fuck y/n!” matt’s voice boomed through my phone’s speakers making me pull it away a bit “huh what are you talking about?” “why did chris and nick just bring me a duffel with my things in it?” he angrily asked “because i’m breaking up with you” i stated “what?” he laughed “i’m. breaking up. with. you. understand?” i broke down each word like if i was speaking to a baby “why are you breaking up with me?” he scoffed “hmmm i don’t know maybe because you cheated on me with chelsea?” i asked “what? i didn’t cheat on you!” “don’t make me laugh matthew i have proof from text messages to the story you posted last night”

“look im sorry i made a mistake but baby please don’t do this i-i love you!” he begged into the phone “maybe you should’ve thought about that before you cheated bye matthew and by the way i hope she was worth it.” i spoke before i hung up the phone.

————————————————————————

okay this is not as good as i wanted it to be but hopefully you like it pookie 😰

tags: @sturnioloslurps @hearts4chris @patscorner

[b00tyliciousbabe]

my baby daddies - ep. 2

wyatt cushman x male reader

summary: the scoop on how wide i buss it open for mr cushman xx

notes: hi beautiful ppl, back again! once he go black, he'll be back again. tell them hoes that it's crunch time, abdomen. yes i cop mad chanel and mad given. she did it again, imagine them!!! sorry nicki ate that verse tf UPPP. bout to make these bum bitches mad again, okay lemme stop. I KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I WAS DOING W THAT BLACK VERSE XOXO. hope you guys are all doing well <3 i will be releasing 2 other series ("the DILFs' and a surprise one which will become coming soon ) so stay tuned! any requests? ENJOYYYY…

you and wyatt met at one of your first shoots. you were the stylist’s assistant and your boss had tasked you with making sure all the models had their hair, outfits, and makeup all ready for the editorials. you were admired by so many in the industry, icons and the public alike, and even though you didn’t have your own company, it was clear that you were on your way to becoming one of the biggest names in fashion history. you enjoyed getting to know all the models personally, and it made the whole process of getting ready much easier. but one person that always had you flustered was wyatt cushman, who you had become really good friends over the years. you definitely found him attractive, but he was so distracting; the agency called him ‘the menace’ with all the harmless trouble he got the two of you into. years had passed, the two of you remained really close, but it wasn’t until the balenciaga show, that the two of you vocalised the unspoken tension between you two.

you were responsible for all of the outfits for the fashion week at balmain, a huge role that olivier rousteing himself appointed you to do. it was a huge success and the press had a field day documenting your achievements. your biggest supporter, wyatt, was there to give you the biggest hug on the runway, garnering an even greater cheer from the crowd. “Y/N, you’re amazing” he said staring intensely in love as he placed his hands on your lower back. the distance between your lips decreased as the two of you shared your first kiss…in front of the entire world. you pulled away; being brought back to reality and how 4.5 million people had witnessed the two of you together, you couldn’t help but laugh, as everyone applauded and jeered at your love. the rest was history.

one thing about wyatt, he is the goofiest mf ever and you love it. he’s always cracking jokes and the life of the party. You feel so safe around him, don’t get it twisted, he’d beat the shit out of anyone who even looked at you the wrong way, but you could handle yourself. flashback to the time where y’all were celebrating your collaboration with vogue: you were dancing the night away with your friends when some guy decided to get a lil too close. the creep groped your ass to which he was served a fat slap across the face. he fell to the ground and the crowd started cheering. wyatt smiled proud that you were able to defend yourself - so proud, that on the way home you took a detour where you guys had the best make out session in the history of rom coms.

the golfer’s wife and the holiday maker:

this man is always travelling and he loves to share those memories with you. other than being his personal photographer, the two of you are able to explore so many different ways of living on your journeys and you dream together of living abroad one day.

On one of your holidays, you had decided to take your boyfriend stargazing “come on wyatt, i don’t wanna miss it” you say gripping his arm as you led him to a quiet space overlooking the ocean. “babe, I’m pretty sure the stars aren’t going anywhere,” he chuckled “and besides, the sky isn’t as pretty as the star right in front of me” he stops and turns to face you. he strokes your cheek, looking down at you with a smile that rivalled romeo’s love for juliet. y’all sat down watching how nature looked so peaceful. he started kissing on your neck, leaving light hickeys to mark you as his. straddling your bf, you deepened the kiss as you felt him grow uncomfortably large in his jeans. you undid his trousers as 8 thick inches of uncut hairy cock made contact with the chill of the night. “you don’t know how much this turns me on, y/n”

you continued sucking on his tip, swirling and drooling all over him as a pool of your spit congealed in his pubes. all the while his hands gripped your roots urging you to take more and more of his cock. you gargled and took him like a champ.

“babe, ughh, I’m bout to, uuhhh shit shit” he came deep down your throat, cleaning your chin with his finger and then poking it in your mouth as he made sure to feed you with every last drop.

you laid down, proud of your efforts to calm him down and your head tucked into cushman’s shoulder, as you began to feel sleepy. your bf noticed this and chuckled to himself, using the blanket he brought to make sure you wouldn’t get cold. “mkay, y/n kinda had a point, this is pretty cool,” he whispered, still riding the high you gave him “but it’s got nothing on him tho, my cute ass bf” wyatt embraced you tighter. the wedding bells were already ringing in his head.

MORE SLUTTY THOUGHTS:

• he deffo has a spit kink. not saying that he’d treat you as worthless scum but, he’d would make sure to slut you out. and you fucking loved it. “you’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you” he’d grunt raw dogging your ass as he spat in your face.

• as dominant as he is, he likes to give you your time to shine, always enjoying it when you spell coconut with your hips as you ride his pole. as I’ve mentioned already his smile drives you crazy, and this position has him cheesing the MOST. wyatt just loves to see how much you’re enjoying the experience, and nothing turns him on more than when he can see the pleasure on your face. “fuck babe, you look so sexy riding my dick.”

• this leads on to missionary, nobody fucks harder in this position than this man. he definitely compensates for his soft strokes in doggy and prone bone because of how hard he hits your hole in missionary. He turns primal as well, feeling your chest bounce up every time he’s balls deep, but all in all he’s crazy for how your bodies are so in sync.

[wishingicouldfly]

Why I Believe Larry Is Real

It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of my opinion essays. This week I was asked to justify my belief that Larry is real, and that Harry and Louis are together. It feels like it’s time. 

::cracks knuckles::

I’ve thought about how to reply to the demand, which came from someone on X (formerly Twitter). I cannot compel someone who isn’t inclined to believe in Larry to suddenly change their mind. If someone doesn’t want to interpret the signs the same way I do, that’s their prerogative. But that said, I decided to give some thought about how to answer the question. 

I’ve been inspired by IndiaAlphaWhiskey and her recent reply to a similar question. I loved the way she answered by talking about long term love and how it’s steady and doesn't need to have a lot of fireworks visible from the outside. It’s hard to put that into words that make sense to someone who hasn’t witnessed it. Here’s her original reply:

The reality is we do not have solid proof that they were or - as I believe - still are in a relationship. Nor should we. H&L are closeted celebrities who keep their private life private. They are closeted, so you won’t see them admitting to being in a relationship in interviews; that would defeat the point of being closeted. In fact, you may think you’ve heard them outright deny being together. Again, if you’re not looking at the clues, and you only want to take this at face value, you’re not going to see any other possible narrative. Full stop. If that’s the case, you’re not going to agree with me, and that’s fine.

If you really want to go down a rabbit hole, my friend @bkatie617 keeps a running spreadsheet on perceived coincidences in the current era. 

https://x.com/BKatie617/status/1739715223244742755?s=20

I can list out a hundred things that, to me, are coded messages H&L have signaled to either us or to each other. You can debunk/deny/laugh-out-loud at all of them, if you want. You might call something coincidence or debunk one or more of these pieces. And yes, there are things out there that aren’t true, that are completely coincidence or debatable – or wildly unbelievable.

I get that. In fact, I have a whole thread of debunks on my Twitter bio. My debunk thread focuses on factual, hard-proof debunks to help veterans and newcomers keep the story straight.

https://x.com/Rosann_1986/status/1670101749267406848?s=20

But there are a hundred more things that are real. Or at least open to interpretation. At some point, it becomes really, really unlikely that everything is a coincidence over the last decade, and you have to admit that H&L are in collaboration with their messaging. For me, once you admit they are in collaboration in their messaging, it doesn’t take a huge leap to believe they are together romantically. Why else would their teams coordinate messaging to the media and the masses?

Harry even said, in 2022, “There’s not many [clues and tidbits] that get left behind. Most of the time, they usually pick up on pretty much everything, along with a couple of hilarious coincidences that were never meant to be, never meant to be kind of clues in the first place that happen… end up being clues.”

Source: Harry Styles talks to the Morning Mash Up about his new single, 'As It Was', Coachella, and more (siriusxm.ca)

You don’t have to believe any of it. I’m fine with that. But because you don’t believe it, doesn’t mean I’m not completely, unwavering, solidly adamant in my own belief that it’s real. Especially if you’re not providing any evidence to sway my beliefs.

Here’s what I think: I think Harry and Louis met and fell in love during X-Factor in 2010, began dating, and continued to fall while on the X-Factor tour and the recording of the first single and album. I believe they made it official in 2011. Over the years, they went through hard times through career changes, loss of family members, solo career ups and downs, differences in career trajectory, doubts and fears, and then the pandemic. I believe they weathered all that and are together and committed to this day. 

I think they live a private life and have no intention of coming out or going public any time soon. Harry said to Rolling Stone last year that he hasn’t publicly “been with anyone.” I also think, even though they are determined to stay private, they like the idea of some fans knowing and supporting them. Seeing their true, authentic selves. So, they’ve gotten good at messaging their truth to fans who want to see it and support it. 

Due to industry pressure and 'image' clauses in their contract, I think they were encouraged by record execs and management to keep their relationship quiet, but rebelled (as teenagers, young adults, and fools in love will do) by insinuating double meanings in interviews and signaling to those in the know ever since. 

I think the signaling started in One Direction days when fans began to pick up on the signs they gave each other - the secret looks, the thumbs up, their complementary tattoos. 

When they saw fans remaining loyal, despite the idea they might be gay/queer and together, the signals turned more outward and louder, with Harry’s blue bandana, lyrics, the rainbow bears, and more. I think it continues today with graphic t-shirts, even more lyrics, matching merch, intentional mirroring in stage lighting and costumes, and more. 

Evidence Larry are together Now

Understand that there’s no solid “proof” that H&L are together now. So, if that’s what you’re here looking for, you won’t find it. They are closeted still, both portraying a heterosexual narrative in the media.

My lens (admittedly biased) is that they are together and hint to us, but that most of what they do these days is for each other. Little inside jokes from across the world or across the room to show they are together. Despite them being separated for work a lot, I believe these little nods to each other helps keep their connection healthy and strong across the time apart.

What follows is a small sampling of what I think is intentional messaging from H&L, meant to suggest to those following that they are still together. Nothing is a proof. Nothing by itself is anything more than coincidence. But taken together, these along with other examples, show two men who are speaking through their actions, in my humble opinion.

They have strikingly similar patterns in their merch for FITF and HSLOT. 

Harry’s merch looks like it would be comfortable at Louis’ show.

Harry drew H and L on his trainers on May 10, 2022 on a pap walk in Italy. 

Both Harry and Louis used some of the same songs for their pre- and post-show playlists. https://www.tumblr.com/bluewinnerangel/702446259292831744/do-you-see-any-commonalities-between-harry-and

They both had really intentional blue/green stage lights at their shows. For anyone who doesn’t know, blue and green were their respective assigned colors when they were in One Direction. Certainly not a proof on its own but coupled with other things adds to the intentionality.

Complementary stage outfits. See this whole thread by @grete418 on X. It’s tongue in cheek, but it demonstrates what I mean about outfits matching/complementing each other. https://twitter.com/Grete418/status/1536453046611369989

Harry dressed as Danny Zuko at Harryween 2022 (coincidentally, Louis’ one and only lead role in a high school musical). https://twitter.com/UpdateHLD/status/1587297649572585473

Louis namechecked his unreleased song “All Along” in September 2022 (here at about 5:20), which strongly references Harry and a concert they attended together.. https://youtu.be/D9NjoMuz5-s?si=eRB-FwLI9JveMK3N

Louis wearing his 'dancing man' top when the 'dancing Harry' figure is so well known.

Similar visual themes like this. Same assignment, different execution. (Harry’s House/Silver Tongues):

Louis’ new tattoos (2023) appear to be images already seen on Harry’s journal cover and eye motif from HSLOT, plus they add to the existing traditional nautical motif they share. 

T-shirt in Music Video for Music for a Sushi Restaurant reading LT Seniors. 

Louis used fan images of Harry’s tattoos as Spotify cover art in February 2021.

Lyrics that seem to respond to each other, and/or have similar themes

Louis wears a rose (like Harry’s tattoo) on his shirt on 6/26/23…next night Harry wears a very phallic shaped rocket ship that looks a lot like Louis’ dagger tattoo. Seems like a call and response.

Louis singing 7 by Catfish and the Bottlemen, on both his tours. The song begins, “Larry call a load of smoke in…”

Added: (5/29/24). Louis announces his "For Every Question Why" Live Stream event via Veeps on 5/27/24. Two days later (5/29/29), Harry turns up in Florence, Italy, wearing an Elmo shirt with the word Why? via Twitter: (1) Ali ~So Be It! on X: "Just leaving this here. https://t.co/Mdty8DRLDE" / X

So there you have it. I could obviously go on for quite a bit, with many more examples, but I think this is a pretty good sampling. If you’d like to know more, or talk about it, feel free to DM me here or on X (@Rosann_1986). I don’t do this to try to change anyone’s mind. If you don’t believe they are doing these things intentionally, and aren’t curious or approaching this with an open mind, nothing I say will change that for you. 

If you’re new here and you’d like to learn more, there are a lot of places to find master posts. Understand that you have to take everything with a grain of salt and come to your own conclusions. Here are a few places to start:

(2) Be a lover. Give love. Choose love. on Tumblr

It’s a beautiful war 🌈 (tumblr.com)

Great lyric analysis here: it's subjective - My song analyses Last edited December 22nd 2022,... (tumblr.com)

[drvmekoo]

regroup | jeon jungkook [prologue]

summary: drifting away from your best friend is never an easy thing to deal with. it's a good thing a very important project is forcing you both to regroup.

➳ pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

➳ genre: college au, fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

➳ rating: 18+

➳ warnings: there's no smut in the first part (sorry!) but there will be so beware! just a mention of s*x in this!

➳ wc: 0.9k

➳ author's notes: so this is my new fic! i have no idea how many parts this will have but i swear i will try and update as soon as possible! i hope you enjoy!

PART ONE | PART TWO

“There you are! I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up!”

You greeted Namjoon as he sat beside you, plonking his textbooks on the desk in front. The lecture hall was starting to fill as the time drew closer to the hour. 

“Please don’t start, I feel like I got no sleep whatsoever last night.” He rubbed his eyes “Jimin and his stupid friends decided to throw a party on the floor above and I swear I heard like four couples have VERY rough sex by the constant rhythmic thudding.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling “What were they even celebrating? It’s literally the middle of the semester? Exams haven’t taken place, right?....right?” 

It was Namjoon’s turn to laugh as you panicked, digging through your diary and frantically flipping through the pages for any missed dates. 

“Relax, they were probably celebrating not getting caught skipping all their classes or something.

You both burst into fits of laughter, people turning towards you as you pushed Namjoon away comedically. Wiping your tears, both of you calmed down as the lecturer walked in and started to step up at the front of the hall. As you got your laptop out, the booming voice of the professor travelled across the room 

“Everyone, please take your seats! Let’s get started! Today is a very important day!”

The room quietened down and people seemed to settle in their seats at this command. 

“Now as you know, you all have a very big project coming up, weighing over 60% of your overall grade.” The lecturer started “Of course, one of the key skills this course observes is collaborative work. Which is why-”

The bang of the door abruptly interrupted his big announcement, as a tattooed figure rushed in.  “Sorry, sir…I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He smirked as many beading eyes stared at him while he climbed the ascending stairs to an empty seat.

“Jeon Jungkook.” The professor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised? 

Jungkook leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders, not evening bothering to get even a pen from his bag. 

The lecturer cleared his throat “Just…please don’t interrupt me again.” 

“You got it, boss.” Jungkook winked cockily.

Namjoon leaned over to you, both observing the encounter like the rest of the hall, and whispered  “What an ass.”

You didn’t reply. Knowing Jungkook for a big part of your life, it saddened you that he had adopted this new, arrogant persona since starting college. You had once known Jungkook as this shy, kind and respectful guy, your best friend who would visit your house every day. Both of your parents thought it was a great idea that both of you were attending the same university.

How wrong they were. 

Something switched between you two in the summer before college. Jungkook stopped coming over, stopped answering your texts. He barely spoke to you even when your families met together. On the day of moving into the dorms, you both planned to celebrate by going out to dinner but instead, he ditched, texting you a simple ‘i’m a little busy. maybe another time?’

No emoji or anything. 

And from that day, you guys haven’t spoken at all. Not one word. 

It seemed like the Jungkook you once knew and loved had gone. 

“Anyways.” The professor continued “As I was saying, this project will very much focus on a joint effort between two students. Which is why each of you will be paired with another in this room. You both will have 3 weeks to complete and submit this project.” A murmur echoed across the room as he continued “Details of this assignment will be posted later today on the student forum and your partners will be emailed to you tomorrow at 8 am.”

The lecturer carried on talking for 20 more minutes, running over the exceptions for the project as well as answering any questions some students hay had before dismissing everyone. 

Namjoon turned to you as everyone packed up and filed out. “Imagine if we got each other? That would be such an easy A for us both huh?”

“That would be so lucky, ugh fingers crossed!” you replied, putting away your laptop and diary. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

He smirked shaking a phone in your face  “Already ordered the chicken nuggets!”

- 

[8:03 am] joooon: HAVE YOU CHECKED YOUR PARTNER YET? THEY JUST CAME IN

[8:05 am] joooon: I got jin which is cool! he’s really smart!

[8:08 am] joooon: hello? who did you get??

Namjoon's text alerts felt so far away as you stared at your computer screen. This couldn’t be happening to you. Why you of all people? Just why?

Hi Y/n, 

You have been paired with Jeon Jungkook for this assignment. 

Remember, this is 60% of your grade! So work hard!

You weren’t a violent person usually but you’ve never wanted to punch your computer screen more than at this moment. How did they expect you to work with someone who hasn’t even so much as looked at you since the summer?

You were fucked. Royally fucked. 

Another chime sounded from your phone. You sighed, deciding it was time to text Namjoon back and tell him the bad news. 

But instead, you were met with something else. 

[8:11 am] Maybe: jungkoo: So, when do we start?

read part one here!

taglist:

@swga-ficrecs

please like and reblog to support the fic!

if you wanna be on the taglist for this fic, please let me know!

[paradoxlemonade]

Like a Flower in Bloom; chapter 3/3

Fic summary: Doc Monster is a many things: he's a tinkerer, a college graduate, a creeper hybrid, and a husband to his wonderful spouse, Ren. Most importantly, he is a father. And he would do anything to make his trans daughter Scarlet happy. Even if it means becoming a Buttercup Scout troop leader and herding a trio of middle school girls.

Chapter summary: Doc makes contact with the parents and the first troop meeting is held.

This is my @mcytblraufest fic, made in collaboration with my artist @watchmewhirl and beta-read my @raivaughn. You can find the masterpost for the art here.

Warnings: Grian's parents are doing their best but they're not the greatest (brief scene, nothing serious happens)

Ao3: Here!

First ; Previous

---

Scarlet gets Doc the phone numbers for Mumbo and Grian’s parents the next day and he’s able to reach out to them about the new troop. Mumbo’s dad already knows what he’s talking about and is excited that his daughter wants to try new things.

“She’s always been really shy, you know?” Xisuma Void says. “I’m glad your daughter reached out.” Doc can’t help but agree. The running joke among their family is that she collects introverted people like baseball cards, since she decides she likes someone and then doesn’t quit until they agree the two of them are friends. She takes after Ren in that regard, who hasn’t known an ounce of shame in his life.

Xisuma is personable to talk to and the call goes well.

Grian’s parents are another story. 

When they pick up, they don’t have the slightest clue what he’s talking about when he brings up the new Buttercup Scout troop that his daughter was starting and invited Grian to. He’s put on speaker phone so both of them can listen at the same time.

Mr. Vigil Penumbra makes an unsure sound. “And you say that your daughter—Scarlet, was it?—wants Grian to be a part of her troop?” He’s asked for clarification a few times, as if something about what Doc said is hard to believe.

Nevertheless: “Yes, that’s right. They met at school, and Scarlet put the offer out.”

“And how did you get our number?” he asks. 

Doc pinches the bridge of his nose. Never has he been so glad to be having a conversation over the phone instead of face to face. “I asked Scarlet to ask Grian for it, and then Scarlet passed it along to me. I’m still in the process of getting certified, so it’ll be about two weeks before we can start scheduling meetings. I just wanted to reach out to verify your interest and let you know what supplies you’ll need to get beforehand.”

Vigil chuckles, mostly to himself. “Ah, I’ll need to ask if Grian still has all her things, or if she got rid of them after her last troop.” He holds the phone away from himself and clears his throat. “Grian! Can you come downstairs?”

There’s a response of some kind that’s too far away for Doc to make out, and then the quiet knock of footsteps down wooden stairs. “Yeah, what’s up?” a girl, presumably Grian, asks. Her lilting voice is high in her throat, brassy but soft on the edges, and lightly accented. The question comes out stilted.

Vigil clicks his tongue. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you say that again?” There’s a dryness to his tone, one that tightens the nerves on the back of Doc’s neck.

“Uh.” Grian coughs. “Yes, father; what do you need?”

“You still have all that Buttercup Scout stuff?”

“I do, yeah. I said I would only burn it if Mumbo told me she’s no longer interested in scouting, remember? She’s planning to join, too.”

Mrs. Iris Penumbra takes the opportunity to join the conversation. “Thank you, dear, but don’t talk back. Why don’t you go get a glass of water from the kitchen, since hydration is—”

“—healthy, and you can’t talk back if you’re drinking a glass of water,” Grian finishes the sentence alongside Iris with all the enthusiasm of a root canal. “Yes, mother.” There’s some more footsteps as she fully descends the stairs.

“Thank you, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Now she sounds further away.

A lightly muffled Iris, a little quieter than before, makes the offhand comment to her husband, “I’m somewhat surprised anyone asked her; she’s not exactly the friendliest girl around.”

Doc winces at the bluntness. There’s a good chance Grian is still within earshot.

Vigil hums in thought, but doesn’t offer any comment on the topic. “It’ll be good for her to socialize with someone other than just Mumbo.”

With that, Doc is finally able to regain their attention and steer the conversation back towards the new scout troop.

In the end, Xisuma, Iris, and Vigil agree that having their daughters join a brand new Buttercup Scout troop run by someone who’s still in the process of getting certified is a grand idea. Tuesdays are unavailable since Scarlet has physical therapy those days, and earlier he learned that Fridays don’t work for Mumbo since that’s the standing date she and Xisuma go to see her Uncle Exiona. The other days of the week seem open, for all three of them, so they pick Thursday as their day for new troop meetings.

***

A few weeks later, the date selected for the first meeting rolls around.

It’s hosted at their house, since they’re hardly a big enough troop to warrant asking the community center, library, or local church to sponsor them (Scarlet was mildly peeved that they weren’t going anywhere to make it feel more “official,” but agreed once Doc pointed out that the couches in the family room were much more comfortable than folding chairs). She’s practically vibrating as she flitters between the button maker Doc is setting up on the coffee table and the front door, already tired of waiting for her new troop members to arrive.

The button maker is an old thing from his and Ren’s college days. It’s practically a relic at this point, but it still works just like it used to. (He’d checked.) Making their buttons during a meeting seemed like a good way to break the ice. No way is he going to have a bunch of middle schoolers trying to make cookies like Symmetry’s troop, not without an idea of how messy the other two are.

He tightens the final bolt as Scarlet gears up to take another trip to the door. Before she can even stand, Ren reaches over and scoops her off the couch, making her shriek in surprise. “I’m starting to wonder if your feet are on fire, since you’re having an awfully hard time sitting still, baby,” he teases.

“Nooooo!” she whines, giggling despite herself. “Put me down, they’re going to be here any minute!”

Doc laughs heartily at the two of them, but his gaze does flicker to the clock hanging on the wall. He and the other parents agreed to start the meeting at seven, and 7:01 just ticked by. It’s nothing he needs to be worried about yet, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t worried anyways.

Ren sways back and forth with Scarlet in his arms. “Hm, tell me why I should set my little princess down?”

“Um… Because you love me?”

He bonks his forehead against hers. “I think that makes me want to hold you just a little bit longer, actually.”

Scarlet scrunches up her face and goes to respond, but the doorbell rings before she can speak. Her eyes widen. “That’s why! They’re here!” She resumes her wiggling with full force until Ren frees her and she rushes over to the door. Her shoulder clips the wall on the way and Doc calls out a “Be careful!”, but she’s hardly paying attention to him.

Doc stands with a stretch, popping his knee joints, and follows after her. He turns the corner into the entryway just as she's opening the door. 

Waiting on the porch are the girls from Scarlet’s phone, Mumbo and Grian, as well as a tall, long-limbed man wearing a vintage band shirt with the sleeves cut off and a chain necklace. Grian and Mumbo have matching uniform sashes, though Grian went the extra mile and also has the beret. (They elected to get Scarlet the vest since they were worried about the sash falling off her shoulders and her struggling to adjust it when she's using her crutches.)

Scarlet is quick to usher them inside with happy words and exchanges of fist bumps. Ren gives Doc a thumbs-up, so he turns back to talk to the parent.

The man smiles and shakes his hand. “Hello! I'm glad to see that we’re in the right place.” Ah, Doc recognizes that voice; this is Xisuma, Mumbo’s father.

“As am I. Scarlet has been really looking forward to this troop meeting. You're welcome to stick around, of course, though I am curious—” His gaze flickers between Xisuma and the empty space behind him where there's only the door. “—Did you carpool? I was expecting to meet Grian's parents as well.”

Xisuma makes a face, but he's quick to smooth it back out. “Yes, well, something came up for them at work. And since I would be driving this direction anyways, they asked if I could help. I couldn't just leave Grian without a way to get herself here or back.”

Doc nods in understanding. “I see. Regardless, I'm glad to have you and your daughter here today, and Grian as well.” He walks back towards the rest of the house, Xisuma following so he can see his daughter’s first Buttercup Scout meeting (“and to keep an eye on Grian,” he added in a hushed voice.) The thought is nice, but it’s hardly a necessity.

Ren has corralled the girls into sitting on the couch together in front of the button machine, where the three of them joke together in unsubtle cacophony. His tail is wagging behind him and he gives Doc another thumbs-up. Xisuma nods and takes a seat on the armchair off to the side.

Doc claps his hands together to capture the room’s attention, and the group conversation slowly peters out. “Welcome,” he says, “to the first official meeting of Buttercup Scout troop M77. Today we’re going to be going over our goals for the troop and making your first official scout buttons.”

Grian unpins the large button on the top of her sash, presumably from her old troop, and limply holds it up. “Don’t most troops go to an official scout store for the button ceremony?” She props up her head on her hand. 

“That’s true, yes, but take a look at the design.” He points at it and she lowers it to get a better look at the screening, which was a simple outline of the flower in black with a yellow fill. Mumbo and Scarlet lean in to look as well. “It’s nice, but the picture is just printed on—lots of other girls have a button identical to that one. If you make your own, then no one else will have one like yours.”

Grian thinks on that for a moment before nodding and shoving the button in her pocket, seemingly mollified for the moment.

Mumbo tilts her head in thought. “Can we—are we drawing these, or…?”

Doc smiles and kneels down next to the coffee table. He slides a tub out from the small shelf attached to the underside and brandishes it for the group. It’s full of markers, colored pencils, and other art supplies from when Scarlet was younger. “Take a circle of paper from the pile next to the machine”—Scarlet reaches over to snag a few and hand them to the other girls—“and draw the design you want for your button!”

They go back to chattering amongst themselves as they draw, and Doc breathes a sigh of relief. So far, so good. Having three parents present for as many girls was definitely overkill, but he knew his Scarlet very well, and apparently Grian had a bit of a reputation. What precisely for, Doc couldn’t be certain, but it was bound to be exciting, a headache, or both.

It's not long before Ren takes the opportunity to walk around the backside of the couch and observe their work. He hums in appreciation as he does. “I like the cat face, Scarlet!” he says to her, and she beams at the praise. Doc should’ve guessed that’s what she’d make; it isn’t as if she’s been obsessed with cats since she was five, or anything like that.

Ren steps to the side to look at Mumbo’s pin, but she curls over it the second his shadow falls over her. “Don’t look at it! It’s not ready, and it’s bad, and!” She shakes her head, eyes scrunched shut. “You can look, but only once it's done.”

Ren softly agrees before she can work herself into a tizzy and leaves her to it. His expression once he gets a look at the button Grian is making has quite the strong resemblance to the face he made when he was shown that blood can be used as a substitute for eggs in baking—mostly off-put, a little confused, and just interested enough not to look away. He blinks a few times. “Er… Are you sure that's what you want to put on your Buttercup button, Grian? It's a little bit. Violent.”

Grian glares at him. “Yes.”

Xisuma murmurs under his breath, “Goodness me, not already,” and goes to stand up, but Doc gestures for him to stay seated with a flick of his wrist.

He instead ambles over with a practiced casualness, looking between his husband and all 4’11” of angry tween girl in his family room. “What seems to be the problem?” By this point, both Mumbo and Scarlet have drifted away from their own projects and keep stealing glances while trying not to look overly nosy.

Grian scoffs and holds up the paper she was working on. “I’m just sketching the design for my button. The handbook says that you can put whatever you want on a Buttercup button, and I want to draw this.”

Ah. Hm.

Really, the amount of detail she's managed to work in with just off-brand colored pencils is impressive. The shape language and clear design on the rabbit’s organs are notable, and the knife’s texture stands out well from the fur.

The handbook’s blithe statement of ‘whatever you want’ is almost certainly meant to be followed up by an unspoken ‘within reason and good sense, of course.’  Bunny viscera isn't exactly a part of the family-friendly Buttercup Scout image.

And Grian is staring him down, eyes daring him to tell her no.

Doc reaches forward and takes the drawing, telegraphing his movement enough for her to snatch the paper back if she desires. She doesn't, and he puts on airs of inspecting it closer.

“Do you draw often?” He asks.

She shifts a bit and crosses her arms. “Sometimes.”

Mumbo snorts and leans over. “Sometimes. Gri, you've filled three entire textbooks since the end of winter break.” Grian hisses and swats at her shoulder, though Mumbo just laughs in response.

Doc clears his throat and Grian snaps back into him. “I can tell you've been practicing; you're very good at this.”

“Mhm.” She doesn't sound impressed. “But…? There's always a but when people talk like that.”  She's still awaiting some specific reaction.

Doc just shrugs and hands the drawing back to her. “I’ll definitely help you make this one, but I'd prefer if you made another to be your official Buttercup button. I'm just worried that I'll get in trouble if you wear that while in uniform, since I'm your troop leader.”

Grian's face twists in confusion, though Scarlet’s eyebrows have shot up—she knows this technique well enough from her own upbringing, and she also knows well enough not to interrupt .

“...You're not telling me I have to throw this one out?” She's tense, like her unconscious mind can't decide whether or not to defensively raise her shoulders, or to completely unwind. Her gaze flickers between what she's been working on and Doc’s steady expression. “I can still make this one?”

“Sure, why not?”

For a moment, Grian doesn't have anything to say to that. 

At once, her off-kilter confusion is packed away into an uncertain, projected nonchalance. She leans forward and selects another sheet as if that has been her plan the entire time. “Whatever. I'm gonna draw my Minecraft skin.”

Mumbo perks up. “Wait, we can do that?” She crumples up her first paper and darts forward for another. “That's a much better idea!”

Scarlet bounces in her seat a little bit. “Let’s all do it! So then our buttons will match!”

Grian waves the two of them off. “I don't care; you guys can do whatever you want.” Despite that, there's a ghost of a smile threatening to break her mask of indifference.

Doc smiles at Ren (who easily returns it) in satisfaction and strolls back over to Xisuma. He raises one eyebrow in inquiry.

Xisuma’s wide eyes dart over to the rambunctious trio and back. He nods.

There's still the button ceremony, passing out number patches for their uniforms, selecting future goal events, and the closing ceremony left until the meeting is over, but in that moment, the controlled chaos is the perfect state for the meeting to be in.

As the meeting closes, Scarlet has made two buttons and two new friends. Doc couldn’t be more proud.

***

A few months later…

Doc claps his hands together and the girls fall silent. Three sets of wide, expectant eyes stare back at him. He smiles at his scouts. “Welcome back to another Buttercup Scout meeting, everyone!” With a finger held up for emphasis, he asks them, “Now scouts, who knows what we will be doing today?”

Grian smirks with self-satisfaction and casually offers, “Violating the Geneva Conventions?”

Mumbo and Scarlet giggle to each other before giving him an innocent look.

“Tax fraud?” Mumbo asks.

“Arson?” Scarlet chimes in.

Doc gasps in mock horror, hand pressed to his chest. “What?! No. No no no no, no!” The fake suggestions are a part of the routine at this point—Grian started it, Scarlet picked it up almost immediately, and Mumbo joined in a little bit later once she felt comfortable. He makes a noise like he’s considering their ideas. “Well, maybe tomorrow, but not now.”

They chorus whines of disappointment (Grian acts like she’s especially offended) and Doc continues, “Today we are going to work hard, earn some badges, and—”

Ren chooses that moment to bound back into the room. He throws his arms around the scouts in a quick hug. “And let’s sell some cookies, dudes!”

The group cheers, even anxious Mumbo, even temperamental Grian, and Scarlet is right in the middle of a group of people that care about her.

She got exactly what she wanted from the Buttercup Scouts.

Doc couldn’t be happier.

[hunxi-after-hours]

hello everyone I'm having too good of a time with 《禁止存档》 Save Files Forbidden by 年终 so I'm planning to bring everyone else down with me into the death swamp :)))

tag will be "(corrosive) bog days of summer" because it's been 90 degrees for about a week straight now and even I, a 铁打的Californian, am beginning to melt a little

general premise under the cut, but let me just take a moment to say that neither the title nor the summary on jjwxc prepared me for the ultimate genre of this book (workplace comedy between two people who are so aggressively responsible that they've tricked themselves into thinking they're just friends)

ok ok so in chapter 1: your main character is one of the best players in this post-apocalyptic immersive video game, but he’s decided that after ten years, it’s time for him to retire after this one last mission

the video game — corrosion — is famous for 1) not being a PVP video game, but more collaborative (teams work together to help purify a corrupted apocalyptic wasteland), and 2) not allowing save files. If you die in this video game, you’re out of the running for the rest of your life. so the fact that our main character has been in this for ten years is genuinely very impressive

anyway! he’s like. well I’m outta here after this mission, I’m gonna go find my internet friend who I’ve been in love with this entire time and confess to them. I’m prettttttyyy sure that my internet friend is a quiet, logical girl who moonlights as our team strategist via chat, but if they're a guy I’m not opposed to trying it out!

ofc complications in last mission results in him doing a ~ great heroic sacrifice ~ and so he ends up flinging himself into a corrosive death bog, whereupon he's like. ah well, we had a good run! time to go back to the real world and confess to the love of my life

and as he sinks into the corrosive death bog he’s like. hey. hey wait a minute. why isn’t the death sequence loading

anyway he wakes up in chapter 2 like “godDAMMIT I’m still stuck in this stupid game. I’m gonna sue the hell out of this video game company” and goes off to find some NPCs who’ll help him contact customer service

he finds some NPCs. he walks up to them like "hiiiiiiii so I don’t know what bug in the system is preventing me from logging out but I’d really appreciate it if y’all—" and then they open fire on him

TURNS OUT!!! he is now video game monster to everyone. more specifically, he is now a walking death bog (jazz hands)

MEANWHILE FROM THE INTERNET FRIEND’S PERSPECTIVE

first of all, he is a man. this is a danmei novel after all

second of all, he is the? (a?) high general of post-apocalyptic human civilization. of course he is, but more importantly this also explains why he’s good at strategy

third of all, he’s talking to his ex-girlfriend (who is a lesbian; they were dating to get both their families off their backs, and now that their families want them to get married they’ve broken up). and high general man is like “hi so something definitely went wrong with the love of my life. I’m gonna go look for him. in the meantime I need you to do some investigation”

and she’s like “I canNOT believe you made me ditch my date for this. fine” and as she walks out the door he stops her and is like “remember. whatever you do. make sure that when you interact with the players, that they don’t realize that their world is the simulation, and the world they think is a video game is actually reality” and she rolls her eyes at him like “yeah yeah don’t die” and walks out

SIKE

THIS IS A POST-APOCALYPTIC SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL

and it keeps going from there :)))))))

[heartfullofleeches]

So I’ve been in love with your sheriff reader but what if another sheriff came to town and saw how everyone loves reader and wanted that for themselves like they don’t really care about anything or the bandits they just want everyone to love them an not reader so they try an take over an og sheriff reader sees this as in a relaxing opportunity (sorry if it’s long)

Tw: reference violence, bullying

Cracked ice settles at the bottom of a glass as dark liquid fills it to brim. The sheriff's weighted head pivots to an upright angle as the drink is brought to lips posed in a crude smile; a blemish compared to the cloyingly sweet expression they wore days prior. They can barely process their surroundings; blurry shapes crowded around them and suffocating them more than the tight robes that binding them to their seat. A sharp jab from behind brings them to attention; the shrill laughter that follows corrected by a whistle.

"Now, folks. I know we agreed to a collaboration, but don't think that means you have the right to rough up our friend here more than needed."

Dryness coats the temporary sheriff's throat as they croak. "M...mayor?"

"Guilty as charged." The mayor bends to their level. They take one long sip from the glass in hand before shaking it in their direction. "Thirsty?"

The sheriff becomes painfully aware of their dehydration as the condensation from the glass wets their cracked lips. How long had they been out? Pushing the question to the back of their mind, they part their lips and allow the cool liquid to hit their tongue. It burns as swashes against their spilt cheek, but they gup it down with no other option. Their head returns to its orginal option as the mayor retracts their hand; hat dipping down their face. The mayor's calm expression wilts into annoyance.

"Ugh.. Take that shit off them already. Don't know why you haven't by now. Need to get it cleaned before Y/n gets back."

Hands grip their battered form; tearing the sheriff's hat from head and badge from coat. Still dressed otherwise- they've never felt more exposed.

"I don't understand. What's.. what's going on?"

"What's going on indeed.." The mayor stands up; a hand tangled in their hair keeping the sheriff's eye on them as they return to their desk. "From how I see it, some big city hot shot though they could weasel their way into our town and replace the one thing that keeps this place running. Our sheriff."

The sheriff swallows the blood clinging to the sides their mouth; a delicacy compared to the bitter truth that follows. Back home, they had it good, but it wasn't perfect. High paying gig, the love and respect of their community, but they still yearned for more. They longed for the homemade pies and the comforting familiarity of everyone worshiping them, while still valuing the face behind the mask. The unwavering trust. All tokens of which you had.

It was easy to get you to agree. Chased after by those you were meant to pursue; longed for unknowing by the person who wrote your checks. All they had to do was slip a few highlights of the city into your brain, and you were packed and ready to go. The mayor orginally protested your departure, but couldn't say no to their dear sheriff. You did deserved a little break after all you've been though - long as you had a few uninvited visitors making sure you were safe.

The temporary sheriff had it good for the first week. The finest room in the local motel. A different meat brought to them every other day. Someone must've been sewing near the pot during the making of one meal, but fortunately they spotted the needle before wolfing down the entire stew. Their dream life came crumbling down the day they decided to put in a payment for a recently vacated home, and everyone caught onto their plans before they'd even reached mid stage.

"I'm.... sorry."

"Sorry-" The mayor's eyes roll so far they appeared as if they'd pop right out of their skull. They lurch forward, sinking their digits into the delicate flesh of the sheriff's jaw; teeth clenched as all kindness is forgotten. "Don't you fucking lie to me, you hear? I know, you know, they know you aren't sorry. The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught."

The sheriff whimpers as they're let go; nail markers and shame branding their skin. An arm props up on their shoulder, elbow dug right into the center of the torn muscle. The bandit leader flicks their ear as they tip your hat on their head; proudly dawning your badge without a lick of guilt.

"Eazy now. You call us the bad guys yet you're the one being mean. Here, lemme give them something to wear better than the sheriff's stuff real quick."

A round of cheers and soft snickering rings throughout the small room as a wad of spit connects with the sheriff's cheek. The bandit wipes their mouth with their sleeve

"Thought you were slick, huh?" Sack of shit like you, comparing yourself to a prize like our sheriff. You should be thanking the corrupt bastard in front of you. If they hadn't called us in, we would've strung you up by your ankles and dragged you through the streets like the filth you are. Speaking of which, what are we gonna do with this thing, boss."

The mayor ignores their mockery to allow a soft smile to form over their lips. "We have about half a week before our loved one returns so only time will tell, friends. Only time will tell."

[corroded-hellfire]

Eddie Munson x anorexic reader

in all the fics I have read reader always either faints or gets really dizzy and Eddie finds out, how about one where she just tells him.

You had decided you had to tell eddie. It was something you weren't going to be able to beat anytime soon. It would be easier to be honest with him.

Note: I collaborated with my dearest @munson-blurbs on this one. Bug selflessly volunteered to help me with this and I would never turn down a chance to write with her. She wrote from the reader's perspective, while I wrote from Eddie's, as we both felt that's what we understood best. Thank you so much for this request and I hope you enjoy what we came up with!

Bug’s note: As someone who has battled anorexia, I aimed to make Reader’s perspective as realistic as possible; however, my own experiences may be different from other people’s. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, please feel free to reach out. I can help you find any resources you need.

Warnings: anorexia, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, language, i think that’s it?

Words: 1.8k

It all started so innocently. You’d wanted to lose a little weight, get in shape, and improve your health. All of the magazine articles you’d read insisted that you cut out carbs, fats, and basically anything delicious. So you did, with the hopes of looking like the waif-like women who graced the covers week after week.

The magazine recommended weighing yourself once a week, and that’s what you’d done initially. But once a week soon turned to three times a week, then every day, and then multiple times a day.

There are other “tricks” you’ve learned. Your food journal, page after page of calorie counting, is kept tucked away in your nightstand. You drink copious amounts of diet soda to feel “full.” When you do eat, you ensure that your portion size stays small. Exercise becomes harder the less you eat, but you feel guilty if you skip a day at the gym.

Guilt isn’t the only pain you feel; your bones are constantly sore and cracking. Clumps of hair fall out when you take showers. It’s hard to sleep with your stomach rumbling, even though you’re always tired. And no matter the weather, you’re bundled up in sweaters, trying to stave off the chill that courses through you.

You’ve done a pretty decent job of hiding your burgeoning obsession with weight loss from your friends and family.

Even your boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice yet, always telling you that you’re beautiful. Which is probably why he just came home from the store with a half-gallon of ice cream.

“Eddie, I…I don’t want this.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “You can have it, though.”

“What?” He looks down at the carton he slid over to you. “Did I buy the wrong flavor?”

He knows he didn’t; you know he didn’t. Chocolate chip cookie dough is your favorite. “I’m just–you know I’m trying to eat healthier. ‘S almost summer and I wanna look good in my bikini.”

With an adorable pout on his face, he walks over and wraps his arms around you. “If you want to eat healthier, that’s fine. But you look perfect. So you don’t ever have to worry about that.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“I said no,” you insist, tone much harsher this time. “If I have this, I’ll just…backslide. Start eating this shit all the time.” You start for your room, pressing your hand to your head. “Just…get it out of here.”

“Okay.” Eddie holds his hands up in defense, a crease forming on his forehead as he frowns. “I’m sorry. I’ll just, uh…” he trails off, looking around the kitchen as he tries to decide what to do with the offending item. “I’ll just put it in the freezer and swing it by Dustin’s tomorrow.” He opens the freezer door and turns back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds,” you say through gritted teeth, but your tears give you away. “Give me a minute, okay? I need to go for a walk.” You’d already gone for a run today, but you could certainly still use the exercise. Just thinking about the ice cream, even looking at it, probably added an inch to your waistline.

The tears weren’t usual for you. If your fierce revulsion to the ice cream didn’t set off an alarm in Eddie’s head, the tears certainly would have. “Okay. Um, do you want me to come with you? I can just grab my shoes and we could head down to the park if you want?”

You shake your head, dots forming in front of your eyes. You steady yourself against the countertop, hoping Eddie didn’t notice. “I want to be alone. Please.” You shrug your jacket over your shoulders and shove your keys in the pocket.

Heaving a sigh, Eddie takes a few steps over towards you. He glances out the window and scratches the back of his head. “Baby, it’s getting really dark outside. I don’t think you should be out there by yourself.”

“What do you want from me, Eddie? I’m trying to look good–and stop saying that I already do, because I know that’s a lie–and it’s like you’re…you’re sabotaging me!” you sputter, clenching your fists. “First the ice cream, now telling me I can’t go for a walk–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Time out.” He holds his hands up near his ears, eyes shifting in his head as his mind tries to process all that just came out of your mouth. “First of all, have I ever lied to you before? In my life? No, so why the hell would I start now? You look fucking amazing. I love how you look. And…” He pauses, shaking his head, trying to sort through his own thoughts. “Sabotage you? Where the hell is that coming from? Babe…babe you’re scaring the shit out of me. I’m not telling you what to do, I swear. I’m just really fucking confused.”

“I don’t look ‘amazing!’” you cry out. “I’m ugly and I need to lose weight! Because if you’re not losing, you’re gaining, and I am not going to gain weight. I…I can’t.”

“Hey, hey…” Eddie takes the few steps over to you and cups your face in his hands. His thumbs rub over your cheekbones as he looks at you in concern. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Please, please talk to me.”

Your emotions bubble over like a can of seltzer that’s been shaken up. “Baby, I’m s-so scared,” you sob. “I just w-wanted to get healthy, get in shape, but now I’m terrified of eating. I don’t even see food as food anymore; it’s all just calories. It doesn’t even m-make sense; like, I can eat the frozen pasta TV dinners because they’re only one serving size, but I’m t-too afraid to make pasta from the box. Because what if…what if it’s more than a serving size? Or what if I’m still hungry after, and then I eat more?”

“Oh baby, come here.” Eddie moves slowly so he doesn’t startle you and wraps his arms around your body. He holds you close to his chest and presses a few kisses to the top of your head. His heart breaks inside of him, not only because of what you just said, but because he doesn’t know how to help you or make you feel better. A million things to say run through his mind but he isn’t sure if any of them will make it worse or not. So what if you eat more? If you’re hungry you can eat, baby. You have to eat to stay healthy. Finally, he settles on something. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

You sigh. “It’s hard to say when, exactly. I started my diet, what, six months ago?” He nods, and you continue. “So maybe it got more…intense about two or three months in.” You plop down on the couch. “I just wanted to look like Nancy or Robin. They’re so pretty and thin; it’s like they don’t even have to try.”

Eddie listens to you intently the whole time and takes his place on the couch next to you. Anger boils in his blood but he refuses to let it show; he doesn’t want you to think it’s anger at you. It’s at the fact that you feel this way, the fact that you don’t see yourself the way that he does. He takes a few deep breaths in and out before he speaks again. “Sweetheart, I’m the first one to admit that I’m way out of my depth here. I’m terrified I’m going to say something and make it worse. But something I do know about? Comparing myself to others. Just like you just did with Robin and Nancy. Are they pretty? Yes. Does that make you any less pretty? Absolutely not.” He knows he didn’t touch the “thin” aspect, but he doesn’t feel like he has the right words to do so. “Growing up, I always compared myself to others, you know that. But let me ask you something; would you love me if I were anyone else? Or do you love me because I’m me?”

“Because you’re you, obviously,” you answer honestly. “I’d love you no matter what you looked like, because you’ll always be the most handsome man in the world to me.” You rest your head on his shoulder, relaxing slightly when you feel him rubbing your back.

“That’s how I feel about you, princess.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You could dye your hair, shave your head, tattoo your entire body, eat all you physically could, and you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world. But I don’t think just my words are going to make this better, are they?” He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“No,” you agree. “I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just see myself the way that you see me but it’s like there’s something blocking my brain from doing that. I don’t…I don’t know what to do. How to fix it.” You use the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I’m really scared,” you repeat.

“Like I said earlier, I’ve never lied to you before. And I’m not going to start now.” He rubs your back with one hand and wipes away a few tears you missed with the other. “So, I’m going to tell you that part of me is scared, too. Scared because I don’t understand how you feel. Scared because it’s not something I can fix. But part of me isn’t scared at all. Because no matter what it takes to help you, I’m going to be right by your side. I’m going to hold your hand no matter what and do everything that I possibly can to help you. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned being with you, it’s that there isn’t a damn thing we can’t do together.”

You sniffle before you speak. “Could you help me find a doctor? Or, like, a therapist or something? I don’t even know where to begin, honestly.”

“Of course, baby. We can go see my doctor and ask her for a recommendation, hmm? Remember? You liked her a lot when you came in with me when I thought I had a hernia? But it was just gas?” The corners of his mouth tilt up, hoping to make you smile since you’ve never let him forget the embarrassing incident.

“Still one of the funniest moments of our relationship,” you tease him.

“I’m glad you think so,” Eddie says. “Does that mean you want me to make an appointment with her?”

There’s a part of you that silently screams no, that you’re not that sick, that you don’t need help. But looking into Eddie’s worried brown eyes, you can feel that it’s untrue. “Yes,” you say finally, offering him a small smile. You yelp as he tackles you into a gigantic hug.

“I love you so, so, so much, baby!” He takes your head in his hands and presses loud, smacking kisses all over your face.

“I love you, too,” you manage between giggles. It’s only the start of this journey, but you’re going to make it through.

[deluxewhump]

The Scry

Chapter 10: Good Intentions, Tied Hands

Prev

CW: whumpee with powers, exploitation of powers, forced labor, power imbalance with caretaker, sleep deprivation, withholding of food, mention of suicide and self harm as an escape from torture

Carlo had been gone a week. 

Max found it difficult to focus on his work. In fact, it annoyed him greatly that he was supposed to drop their planned projects and work on his own again for an undetermined amount of time, because for an unspecified reason they’d decided to kidnap his precognitive.

Not his precognitive. The precognitive. Carlo. 

He got one contract rolling, a small one out of a Tuscaloosa based paper plant that he wouldn’t have wasted Carlo’s talents on. But it was something to have on the books for the week, anyway. 

He told Eddie and Simon what was happening, but they didn’t quite appreciate the gravity of the situation. How could they? They hadn’t been given a scared and abused precog to work with out of the blue one day, gotten attached, and then had him mysteriously “borrowed” for an undetermined amount of time.

God knows what they wanted from the poor kid now, where he was. He could be in the building still, or in California being subjected to more unethical experimentation. He thought of the surgery scar Carlo showed him often, whenever his mind wandered. He hadn’t told Ingrid about that. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t. 

He did tell Alex Clair, though. 

Alex was the only one at Spartan who seemed to be on the same page with him about the precogs. He was the only one who was as dismayed and alarmed by Carlo’s sudden absence as he was, and he came by often now for updates or to share information.

“Zee said he knows about those research facilities,” he said one afternoon in Max’s office. Max exited his browser and laid his temples in his hands. He was exhausted.  

“I didn’t tell him about Carlo’s… personal experience,” Alex added quickly. “Just asked if he knew about things like that going on. He did.”

“I’m worried about him,” Max muttered. “I don't trust them not to hurt him."

“You two did the best of all of us in the first week. They’re  using him for some shady nefarious precog shit, either to make a bunch of money or rig an election somewhere, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring, thank you.” 

Alex’s cheek dimpled in an apologetic half-grimace. “I just mean he’s useful to them. They won’t hurt him too bad.” He was still wearing a Spartan hoodie over more formal slacks, his half-uniform of protest. “I was thinking of trying to get Blake real drunk Friday night and seeing what he spills,” he offered. 

Max was wearily amused. “You think Martin really tells him anything? Or he just walks around like he does?”

Alex sighed. He ran his hand through his hair so it stayed lifted in a slowly falling blond poof, like a muscle memory. “Yeah, I dunno. He’s a tryhard.”

“I think our hands are tied.”

Alex let his head fall back, tossing a ping pong ball he must’ve lifted from the break room at the ceiling and catching it when it bounced back at him. “I’m so sick of it. For real.”

“I talked to a lawyer,” Max confided. 

Alex sat back up. “Who? What’d they say?”

“A family friend. It was just as a favor. My mother’s an attorney, so I know a few. It’s not good. Basically we don’t have any leverage whatsoever. This is all currently legal with the precogs.”

Alex made a face. “That’s it?”

“She said to document everything. Maybe in a year, once this all runs amok and they’re looking for someone to blame…”

“Martin’s such a fucking snake.” Alex tossed the ping-pong ball again. “And I know he’s not the top of the food chain. It’s just, I see his sorry ass every day.”

Max was about to say something about documenting everything together, collaborating on a record of sorts, when a knock came at his office door. 

Alex widened his eyes questioningly. Expecting anyone?

Max stood from his desk, crossed the short expanse of the office to answer the knock. The door swung open to a hollow-eyed precog swaying on his feet, pale and glassy-eyed.  

“Carlo,” he said, and immediately took him from his escort, a guy in a suit he’d never seen before. The escort made no effort to stop him, not did he comment. He left him there,with Max and Alex, and was gone.

-

Carlo could barely stand. 

It had been bad before, but never quite this bad outside of the research hospital where they’d cut into him. He tried to say something, but a wave of nausea closed his mouth again before he got a word out. Max picked him up without a word. He wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to make himself easy to carry. Max carried him to his little cot in the corner of the office. It was still here. He hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He’d missed this cot so bitterly. He hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours, and hadn’t eaten in longer. Martin found out that food and rest and water only dulled his precognitive powers, slowled them. Discomfort created an edge. Once he knew that, the niceties stopped, and the most grueling scrying of his life began. Max set him on the bed and laid him down. The bed was soft. So soft. Max was speaking, but not to him. To whom?

He saw Alex Clair come closer, looking as concerned as Max. “What did they do?”

“Who knows,” Max said, and gently slipped the CVS thermometer between Carlo’s lips. It beeped and Max shook his head at the number, showed it to Alex. Carlo knew it wasn’t his fault it was not a pleasing number, but he preferred it when he made his users happy. 

“You’re alright,” Max was saying, brushing his hair back from his hot, dry forehead. “You’re safe now, Carlo. You’re okay.”

He remembered Alex sitting on the side of the cot to hold his head up while Max got him to drink from a water bottle. He swallowed some the wrong way and choked, and Alex helped him up a few more inches to cough.

-

Max’s House. Saturday. He’d never been so grateful to wake up and realize it was Saturday in his life. The thought of getting dressed and going into Baltimore, riding the elevator up to Max’s office made him want to cry.

Max had been patient with him, feeding him broth and juice and medicine, letting him sleep for hours, wake up, and sleep more. His fever broke, and then steadily declined until his body temperature was normal again. He wondered how many times he’d recover. How sick could he get and still get better, every time, like the guy who got his liver eaten over and over by birds?

Max looked surprised when he came downstairs of his own volition at eleven, dressed and coherent. 

“How are you feeling?”

“So much better,” he said, though he still felt bruised under every inch of his skin, and his eyes ached in their sockets. He was grateful for the steady drizzle and heavy cloud cover outside. 

“I have news that may be a small comfort to you. It is to me.”

Carlo pulled himself onto one of the chairs that sat tucked under the kitchen island, which seemed to be the house’s gathering place even when Max and Ingrid weren’t using it to cook a meal. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“It’s a long weekend. No work Monday. No office, no nothin’.”

Carlo laughed. “That really is the best thing you could’ve said right now. Except maybe that Spartan sold me to you.”

Max’s smile faltered, then recovered. It didn’t escape Carlo’s notice. He made a note to be careful saying things like that. Did Max not like the idea of him, or was it an extension of the discomfort he felt at the whole situation? He shouldn’t be so needy. Max had done so much for him already, in their present situation. 

“Carlo,” he said with an air of his telephone-serious voice, and Carlo’s heart dropped. I’m sorry, he almost blurted. That was inappropriate. You don’t have to say it. I know. I know. 

“I think we should talk about what happened.”

No, he thought. We shouldn’t. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs and thought of Martin's steady voice in his ear as he sobbed, the sound of that terrible and pitiless patience.

“I know it might be uncomfortable ," Max said. "It’s why I waited until we were home, away from anywhere someone might be able to listen in. But it’s just you and me here, and… I think you need to tell me where you were.”

“I was with Martin Olsen,” he answered quickly. “He tricked me after you left for coffee that day. Tuesday. He said he needed me to work on a project with him. For him. If I didn’t, he said I’d be sent away to a research hospital again.”

Max nodded along. His usually clean face was in need of a shave. His hair was looking a little longer too, dark as the stubble that dotted his chin. “What was that project? Can you tell me about it?”

Carlo shook his head firmly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Max took on a look of measured disappointment that felt to Carlo like a knife in his ribs. “Listen, I really think it’s best if you do. I’m keeping a record of events in case I ever get the opportunity to do something about all this. Legally.”

Carlo had to look away. He stared at a knot in the wood of the island. “I understand, and I still can’t help you.”

Max put a warm hand on his knee and he flinched without meaning to. He hadn’t expected it, was all. Max withdrew the hand and Carlo wished he’d put it back. This isn’t how he thought today would go.

“No one will know what you’ve told me for now, Carlo,” he said seriously. “It will stay between you and me until a time when it’s absolutely safe to use and I have the leverage to keep you safe from any consequences. I’m not going to do anything to get you hurt, sweetheart.”

Carlo closed his eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re trying to manipulate me,” he whispered. He meant it as a plea, but it came out like an accusation.

“Manipulate you…” Max repeated sadly. “I’m trying my best to help you. I’m feeling very frustrated and helpless here. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

“But you can’t,” he said, and made himself look in Max’s eyes. “Mr Olsen made me sign things. Confidentiality things. Non disclosure.”

“Probably all illegal, in context.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But… it doesn’t matter what I signed because even if I didn’t, if he ever found out I told you or anyone what he made me work on, he’d make sure I got sent to the worst research project he could find, and I’d never leave again.” He lifted his shirt to remind Max of the scar, of their conversation. “Do you know what that would mean for me? A place like that? Do you know what they do to us?”

“I can guess.”

“I’ll die first. It would be so much better. There’s a million ways to do it. I’m not afraid to do it. Once they’ve got you in a place like that, you can’t. They make sure. You can’t find a syringe, a piece of glass. A good wire. Not even a thumbtack. And you can’t starve yourself to death, they’ll just stick a tube and an IV in you.”

He expected Max to chastise him for this kind of talk, or tell him to stop. He didn’t. “And you know Martin would do this if you told me what you worked on?”

“Yes. He told me.”

Max’s mouth tightened. “Of course he did.”

“Please don’t make me,” Carlo whispered. “Don’t make me tell you. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.” 

“I'm not going to make you do anything. Can you tell me if it was relating to Spartan or not?” Max asked gently. “If it was to do with money, or politics, or something else? Was it business, or personal?”

Carlo felt tears prick the back of his sore eyes and let them come. He knew from experience that any charged display of emotion from him either made a user colder, almost angry, or they softened. Max softened. 

“Don’t cry,” he said tenderly. Carlo could tell he wanted to touch him again but was discouraged by the earlier reaction to the hand on his knee. 

“Don’t make me say,” Carlo whispered around the lump in his throat. He was going to have to beg. “Please, Sir.”

Max took a deep breath and was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay,” he surrendered.

Carlo knew he’d played his best hand with the Sir, reminding Max of his inherent authority over him. If he’d pushed any more, Carlo would’ve answered that last question. He felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t. He didn’t doubt Martin Olson’s threats for a single second. And he was glad Max relented. He didn't think he could take it if he pushed him, too, like everyone else.

“Okay,” Max said again, and put a tentative hand on Carlo’s shoulder. Carlo turned toward him and leaned as far as he could. Max caught him in an embrace, rubbing his shoulder blades with his broad hands. “It’s okay, Carlo. I’m sorry. I want to protect you, but I don’t know how.”

Carlo got the sense Max was not used to being powerless. He’d overheard him talking with his fiancée, running up against every wall in the corporate and legal structure and becoming frustrated there seemed to be nowhere he could apply pressure where anyone would care.

Carlo said nothing. He enjoyed the feeling of Max’s arms around him, the weight of them tethering him soundly to his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Without telling me anything about what you were working on?” Max asked.

“...Why?” He didn’t see what Max would want from that.

Max pulled back to hold the sides of Carlo’s head in his hands, looking at him with raised eyebrows like he might be a bit of an idiot. “Because I care about what happened to you. I thought you might want to talk about it with someone. With me.”

Oh.

Carlo thought about it. He could tell him of the way Martin watched him carefully, finding out what worked and what didn’t. He could tell him about the sleep deprivation, the cold basement office, the lack of food and water and constant bright lighting. The blackouts, the blinding migraines, the sickness, the mounting cost of pushing his scrying powers far past their limits.

What good would it do? If it was sympathy he wanted from Max, he already had it. He wished he could crawl in this man’s lap and make himself very small somehow. He wished he could be unimportant and left alone.

“Later, maybe? I just want to enjoy the day off.”

Max let him go, and his skin missed the places he was no longer being touched. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

[myapathyhaspeaked]

Platonic Sides Week Day 4: Inside Jokes

Back in the day, yearly Halloween decorations were less holiday fun and more a force of nature. The Core Sides would wake up on October first to find the Mindscape common room covered in gore and grime. Blood seeped from the floorboards, and impressions of haunting faces were pressed into the wall. Posters for horror movies were plastered all over, and cobwebs crowded each corner. It was the result of Virgil and Remus sneaking in late at night. Inspired by Virgil listing off the scariest things he could think of, the Duke would bring it all to metaphysical reality.

But then Virgil was accepted, and instead of ambushing them, he was invited to collaborate with Roman. The decor wasn’t nearly as scary, now consisting of cheery jack-o-lantern lights and plastic skeletons, but now that they had more than a late night raid to set up (and Remus wasn’t involved) it was a lot more cohesive, and the others could tell that real thought was put into how it was all arranged. Unlike before, when it looked like the Exorcist throwing up everywhere scene equivalent of a Spirit Halloween. It was also a lot more relaxing for Virgil, who didn’t have to face the consequences of telling Remus of all people (why did he used to think that was a good idea?) what he saw as shit-your-pants worthy the morning after. And despite what one might expect from someone who loved making himself a nuisance and inviting himself where he wasn’t welcome, Remus didn’t crash the decorating or switch out the cartoony ghost banners for goopy intestines. He just went back to his tower in the Imagination, and did his worst.

Because of recent “developments”, they were now making an effort to not force any Side out (though some were more excited about this prospect than others). Since Halloween was soon approaching, Virgil had hesitantly decided to dig up an old tradition, and invited the Duke to join Roman and him in decorating. After all, with two Creativities bouncing ideas off each other and two safer Sides to keep His Disgrace in check, it had to turn out great, right?

Yeah that silly idea was thrown out the window as soon as the twins’ opposing tastes lead to them butting heads.

“Why the hell would I use plastic knives? This isn’t a school cafeteria, I’m using high-quality, stainless steel, blood covered knives!”

“You’d use plastic knives because we don’t want someone to poke their eye out!” Roman argued. In his defense, he wasn’t suggesting they use the dinky plastic knives found in fast food restaurants that can’t actually cut anything, but plastic molded to look like the kind of bloody knives you’d see in cartoons, with bright red blood painted onto a right triangle on a stick. 

“Maybe you would, but I have some goddamn artistic integrity. The glorious season of Halloween deserves nothing less than real knives.”

Having had enough, and really needing a hand with hanging up the witch on a broomstick, Virgil decided to get involved (which was never a good idea, but being smart was Logan’s job).

“Yeah, because we totally want a repeat of Crochet Night,” he interrupted with a snicker as he struggled to get a loop of string onto one of the hooks they’d stuck onto the ceiling. It didn’t help that he really didn’t feel safe standing on a chair for this, so he was shaking a bit.

“Crochet Night?” Roman asked, interest evident in his voice, because one would assume that crocheting was a very mundane activity, the kind of thing you’d expect grannies to do while talking about the latest bingo game. But the combination of yarn, needles, Remus, free time, and perhaps a lack of supervision had some interesting possabilities, and he was intrigued.

“It’s a long story,” Virgil answered, and he wasn’t lying. It would be a task of its own to even describe the end result.

“Yeah dude, get your own fucking noodle incident!” Remus jeered, stabbing some rusty nails in the wall to hang decorations from. The nice thing about the Mindscape was that they didn’t have to bother finding a stud.

“Excuse me, Rudey Gloom and I have so many ‘noodle incidents!’ Just last week was spaghetti Sunday!” the Prince protested, and Virgil just shook his head and went back to trying to hang the witch (because that’s how it actually happened). He’d explain it later.

It was a while later, and they were debating if adding fake eyeballs to the blood red Hawaiian punch was too much. In Remus’ opinion, there was no such thing as too many eyeballs, but the others didn’t fully trust him not to put in real ones. Maybe one of two though, ones that they verified were just ping pong balls or something before they were put in, that might be fun.

One might think the first week of October is too early to start putting out party snacks. But since food in the Mindscape didn’t expire unless they (just Remus really) wanted it to, a table of them served just fine as decoration.

“We could make them outta jelly, then it would be like eating an actual one.”

Roman cringed at his brother’s suggestion, before hiding his face behind a sip from a red solo cup. Yes, like in the movies.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who’d want that,” Virgil said, setting down a tray of those sprinkle covered sugar cookies that have pictures of pumpkins and ghosts on them.

“You say that,” the Prince replied, looking more excited than the situation called for.

“You say that,” Virgil mirrored, laughter barely contained by the grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you two saying?”

“Oh, it’s uh…” he trailed off, because really to understand he’d need to explain about five weeks’ worth of context, the history of ferrets, and the plot of an obscure kids’ show episode.

“You had to be there, Angus Boredom!” Roman boasted, gesturing his solo cup at his brother. Remus groaned, wanting more than ever to know what that was all about now that he was being denied the knowledge.

Several minutes later, Virgil gawked when he walked in with paper mâché supplies to see the twins working together to stick spooky gel stickers to the ceiling. Them working together for once wasn’t what he was reacting to, though that was also unusual. No, the real weirdness was that Roman was sitting on his brother’s shoulders.

“Hey Emo,” Remus waved, causing Roman to brace himself against the ceiling so he wouldn’t fall off. “You got the sauce?”

“For the last time, glue is not a condiment. And what are you two doing?”

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” Roman asked as he removed the backing from a squishy spider sticker. “We’re putting up stickers. They glow in the dark, it’ll be fabulous!”

“I can see that, I’m not blind,” he rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t you use a ladder or something?”

“Nah, do you know how many people die from ladders? This is much safer,” he answered, and normally Virgil would argue that there was no way that was true. But really? They were quite good at it. Roman could stretch and reach and maneuver however he needed to, and Remus had no problem adjusting so they didn’t come crashing down. And, as long as he was given a bit of warning, Remus could stroll over to where they needed to be next and Roman wouldn’t so much as sway, balancing himself with his twin’s gait. It was obvious they had done this before. Multiple times.

“When did you even learn how to do that?” he queried, because before Remus revealed himself to Thomas, a majority of the interactions he used to see between the Creativities consisted of medieval duels.

“Oh, well we were on this quest in the Imagination,” Roman began, and that was already a plot twist. Last he checked, each brother was banned from the other’s side unless given explicit permission to enter. Of course, that didn’t mean the rule was actually followed (it wasn’t). But before he could continue, steam started escaping from his ears.

“Unfortunately, a wizard banned us from ever saying what happened that day, so it’s a pain in the ass to explain. I’d try writing it down, but I don’t want my morningstar to be dyed pink.” Usually Remus was immune to curses, since he didn’t mind if horrible or weird things happened to him. But the bastard of a wizard had personalized the curse to do things that actually bugged him, like covering his sketchbooks in cute cat stickers. He was tempted to donate it to Patton, but the paternal Side probably wouldn’t have been too appreciative of the drawings within.

Virgil looked up from where he was spreading out a tarp in preparation for the messy craft. “So I’ll never know?” The twins just shrugged in unison.

“Eh, I guess that’s fair. Three Sides, three things we refuse to explain, all checks out.”

---

@platonicsidesweek

[densi-mber]

A/N: Happy first day of Densimber to you all! As always, we begin with decoration day. Thanks to @mashmaiden for collaborating on this story.

***

Traditions Come and Go

“Baby, I told you I could get that,” Deeks said, hurrying towards Kensi as she toted a storage container of Christmas decorations through the house.

“It’s not that heavy,” Kensi insisted, shifting the box out of his reach as he attempted to take it. “You’ve been doing everything around here for weeks. Or at least attempting to. I can manage this.”

“I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

“Baby, I appreciate that, but just because I’m pregnant—”

“32 weeks pregnant,” Deeks interjected smoothly. Kensi sighed, accepting his point.

“Yes, I am. I can also squat with a 15 pound dumbbell in each hand,” she reminded him gently. “I don’t think this is going to strain me.”

“Ok, touché.” Deeks grinned self-deprecatingly. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, I know you mean well.” She stretched to lean over the container and kiss him. “And who knows, in a couple weeks, I might change my mind and want you to do everything.”

“You just say the word,” he said, stealing another kiss.

***

Rosa arrived home just as they were unwrapping the now dozens of decorations they’d collected over the years. An entire bin is dedicated to various ornaments Roberta had passed down.

“Oh, I’m glad I didn’t miss everything,” Rosa sighed, hurrying to set her backpack and shoes to the side. She’d woken up early to pick out a tree with Kensi and Deeks before heading out for classes.

“Like we’d start without you,” Deeks scoffed. He patted the spot on the couch next to him. “Grab a seat and start unwrapping.”

“What is this?” Rosa asked, grimacing at a freshly revealed horse with pink hair and an oddly creepy expression.

“Grandma Deeks’ idea of a joke.”

“She said it was a family heirloom,” Kensi added.

“I don’t remember seeing it last year.” Rosa turned the ornament from side to side, seeming caught between interest and mild disgust.

“Yeah, that’s because we usually never, ever take it out,” Deeks explained. He took it from Rosa, tucking it back in with the rest of the unwanted and boring ornaments. “I’m thinking maybe this year it should meet with an unfortunate and tragic end. Do you think a fiery death is plausible?”

“Or we could just pass it on to our beloved oldest child,” Kensi suggested with mock innocence. “Keep the tradition going.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Rosa said quickly, raising her hands as she chuckled nervously. “I’m good. Though I wouldn’t say no to that aqua one over there.”

“That’s one of my—mmm.” Stopping mid-thought, Kensi rubbed a hand over her lower ribs, wincing for a few seconds.

“Was it croissant or donut this time?” Deeks asked.

“Donut, I think,” Kensi replied, arching her back. “I swear these kids are practicing for a soccer match with how much they kick.”

“Are you ok?” Rosa checked.

“Yeah, they’re getting stronger, but I’m fine. I guess they just wanted to join in on the fun.”

“But maybe hang out for a couple more weeks,” Deeks suggested, resting his hand over Kensi’s stomach.

“So, do you want to put the outside decorations up when we’re done here?” Rosa asked once they had lights strung around the tree.

“Actually, since things are going to be extra crazy this year with all the baby prep, we decided to just decorate inside this year,” Deeks explained.

“But you love Decoration Day.” While initially bemused by Deeks’ excitement last year on December 1st, Rosa had quickly been caught up in the general festivities and greatly enjoyed the entire premise.

“I do, but it’s only one year.” Deeks couldn’t deny he was a little disappointed at the thought of missing out on one of their traditions. He knew they’d barely notice though as everything picked up in the next few weeks.

“You know I’d help,” Rosa offered. “I can hold the ladder and even go on the roof if you want.”

“I really appreciate that, Rosalind, but you have your classes and finals to study for. It’ll be ok.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not the first time it’s happened,” Kensi said. “The year we moved here, we were so busy packing and going to showings that we never got around to it.”

“Next year we’ll just have to do something extraordinary to make up for it,” Deeks suggested.

“Now, that worries me a little bit.” Not sounding worried in the least, Kensi pushed herself off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To get those Christmas cookies you guys made,” Kensi replied. “You should never decorate on an empty stomach.”

[multiplicity-positivity]

may I ask what fusion looks like? we have headmates who want to fuse with others, but are scared ths will mean that they will cease to exist. they're also scared that fusing will make inner world interaction and imposition useless, like iw "physical" touch and intimacy. so I wanted to ask your experiences with it! absolutely no pressure to reply if you're uncomfortable of course, thank you for this blog 💛

Hey, we have had two successful fusions in our system as far as we know. We are happy to talk about our experience with this.

This post got really long, so we’re putting it under a cut. We’re not sure how to write a TLDR for this post in particular since it’s so complex, sorry.

First of all, in any system, fusion does not kill headmates or cause them to cease to exist. The parts who have fused in our system are still very much here. Also, fusion might look very different for other systems - we can only talk about what fusion has been like for us, but fusion for us might not look the same as fusion for someone else.

It’s kind of like mint chocolate chip ice cream. You can have mint ice cream on its own, and you can have chocolate chips on their own, but combined, they become something new. The ice cream and the chocolate chips don’t vanish or disappear, they’re still there. They just work together to become one cohesive thing.

We have had one unintentional fusion. I fused with an alter after that part’s role was no longer needed in our system. He’s still here. He is me, and I am him. After learning more and more about our system and each other, we blended together and haven’t separated since. It was so subtle and quick that it took a while for us to notice that a fusion had taken place. There was a time when we had two parts that looked similar and shared the same name. Now there’s just one, as we have permanently joined forces.

We’ve also had a purposeful fusion that took some planning and collaboration. My parts, Margo and Cecil, came together because they wanted to fuse. Our system is really prone to blending and cofronting. Often when we cofront, we’ll temporarily blend to become one for a while before splitting apart again. So for Margo and Cecil to fuse, it looked sort of like this:

Step one: Lots of communication between the two. Discussing what fusion might look like for them, what they hoped to gain out of fusion, how a fusion might affect our system and themselves, etc.

Step two: Sticking together. Always. They got our gatekeeper to help ensure that when one of them fronted, both of them did. Even inside the headspace they went everywhere together. This took some getting used to, as Margo was our work part which meant she sometimes had to front with Cecil outside of work, which was tough for her at first.

Step three: Settling on a new name, new pronouns, and thinking about themselves as a collective self. They asked us to start referring to them collectively as one part, even before they fused. They picked the name Coriander (nn Corrie) and decided they could be bigender with he/she pronouns.

Step four: Waiting it out. Once they settled on their collective identity, we all just kind of waited to see what would happen. Of course, they were in touch with our therapist a bunch during this time, and he really helped them to come together. At some point, they were able to remain blended even outside of the fronting space. And now, it’s like they’ve been blended nonstop for a few weeks now. They might still split apart later, but we’re of the opinion that they’ve successfully fused.

So for Corrie, it took lots of communication, a mutual understanding, sticking together constantly, forming a collective identity, and patience in order for that fusion to happen, along with lots of support from folks both inside and outside the system.

Now, it is true that they don’t interact with each other in the headspace/inner world in the same way that they used to. Inside, they look, act, and function as one. However, they might still be interacting in their own way in their own consciousness? From what we understand, people (even singlets) are multifaceted and can feel conflicted or have internal conversations. Also, we think inner worlds are imagined visualizations. So if they wanted, theoretically they could imagine themselves as separate again without necessarily splitting apart if that’s something they wanted. Like I could imagine myself as Parker and P2 and imagine interactions between them if I wanted. Personally, I don’t, really. But maybe this could happen? Honestly we don’t know what our headspace is going to look like as more and more of us fuse in the future. Sorry about this.

We’d like to include a graphic on fusion by @/clever-and-unique-name that’s helped us in the past.

This ^ is how we understand fusion, and how it’s felt for us so far. No one is gone, we’re just together. From what we understand it’s been an amazing and liberating experience for Corrie. And we truly hope we’ll be able to have more fusions in our system in the future. Many of us are actually hoping for final fusion as a recovery goal.

So there you have it. Many parts in our system have been scared of fusion in the past, but witnessing it happen with Corrie has been really beneficial for us. It gives us hope that one day we can all work, function, and collaborate together as one. Even after we’ve fused, I believe we’ll still be multifaceted with different parts. We’ll just have an easier time understanding each other and existing in the world without dissociative barriers breaking up our consciousness.

We hope this helps. Sorry it was so long, and our apologies if it doesn’t make much sense. This post was typed by me, Parker, but it was co-written by quite a few of us over the course of a couple weeks. Our system has really complex feelings about fusion and lots of parts wanted to share their thoughts.

💫 Parker, 🌷 Corrie, 🐢 Kip, 🦇 Alucard, and 🐺 Toby