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coryosbaby · 11 months

Note

Can you give me something with barry from obx x innocent!reader and she's like rafe's little Sister and he like tells rafe that she needs to stay with him until he gets ALL his money plsss girls I'm deprived of my word porn 😫 ( Add some smut pleaseeeeeeee )

Honey <🧡 >

Barry (Outer Banks)/reader

Warning: slight dubcon, kidnapping, blackmail, mention of guns and drug use (reader gets high), slight age gap? But it’s not really important + the reader is of age // forced oral (m receiving), throatfucking, fingering, the word ‘bitch’ a lot, pussy slapping, p n v, dumbification, loss of virginity, sir kink, sub! Reader, dom! Barry

“Please let me go!”

Your voice is desperate, as Barry shoves you inside of his home. You almost trip over your Mary Jane platforms when your foot hits a step wrong, but Barry catches you with one of his strong arms and pulls you up.

“You know a deal’s a deal, sweet thing’.”

His voice has a slight southern drawl, and you squeak when he pushes you down onto the couch. “Now stay your ass right there.”

You don’t even know how you got into this situation. One minute you’re having drinks with a few friends from your private school, and then the next minute you’re getting dragged away by your brother’s drug dealer. You don’t know exactly what he means by deal. You had never made one with him.

You two had spoken a few times when he spent his time at the Cameron residence when everyone in your family besides you and Rafe were gone. Rafe, being the untrustworthy shit that he is, surprisingly doesn’t despise you like he does your other siblings. In fact, you’ve become his favorite and most important one.

But clearly not important enough, since he’s probably got you involved in his cocaine dealing stuff.

“Did Rafe…” you watch as Barry rummages around in his kitchen cabinets, clearly paying no mind as you speak. “Did Rafe make a deal with you? Or something? I-I have money, I have lot of it—“

“Thirty thousand?”

The number makes your eyebrows raise in surprise. Thirty thousand dollars.. for coke? A“few lines”, as Rafe had called it. Yeah right.

“I-I don’t—“

“Well until then, I’d advise you to keep that stupid little mouth shut.”

His demand scares you, a bit. In fact, this whole situation does. Barry had always been nice to you. Maybe a bit too nice, if anyone from outside the two of you saw the situation (Rafe certainly did). But regardless, you don’t know what’s going to happen if your brother doesn’t get that money.

Barry seems to finally find what he’s looking for inside a wooden drawer. When he pulls it out, it’s a gun.

Bile rises in your throat when you see the weapon, the safety off and, you assume, packed with bullets. He throws it down onto the table in front of you.

“See that?” He asks. You nod heavily, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Yes sir.”

You say it dumbly. You don’t know what else to say. Barry’s grin is wide when the words leave your lips.

“You try to run,” Barry starts. His tone shouldn’t be so tantalizing, but it is. “And I’ll use it. So don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You nod, numb with fear. Barry picks up the gun and moves around the table to sit beside you. He’s exponentially close, his shoulder touching yours as he leans back against the fabric of the couch.

You don’t know what to do, really. What exactly are you supposed to do when your brother’s drug dealer is holding you for ransom? But you play with the hem of your skirt as Barry reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bag of shiny white powder.

Your face scrunches up and you shiver. He uses his fingers to make a sloppy trail of cocaine on the hilt of the gun. You expect him to do the line he had created, but instead he just shrugs and stares at you for a moment with a glazed look.

“Why don’t you take some?“

You don’t think it’s a request. Your bottom lip catches in between your teeth. You sniffle.

“I don’t want to.”

“Cmon, now,” his tone is like honey but you can hear the threat. “Be a good girl.”

You look down at the drug, stark white against the metal of the shiny weapon and back to him, but you figure you have no choice. You just hope and pray that the addict gene didn’t make its way to you like it did Rafe as you press your nose against the gun. It’s right over Barry’s lap; if you weren’t so plagued with innocence, you would notice how close your face is to his aching prick as you peer over his lap. You jump when you feel the man’s hands twist themselves in your hair.

“Atta girl.”

The drug isn’t something you’re used to. You’re definitely not the type to drink, let alone do coke; but snorting it doesn’t seem as hard as you expected. Your brain is a little fuzzy once you lift your head up.

Barry puts the gun down on the table, and pours some more coke onto the glass in front of him. He snorts up a line, and lets out a low groan. And then he moves back and his hands move to your neck. He twists your strands of hair with two long fingers.

“You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?”

You flush. All the while your high begins to kick in, and you exhale shakily. Your thighs clench together, and you don’t really understand why. “T-Thank you..”

Barry chuckles. His lips are really close to your ear and you notice that he smells really nice. It’s making you a bit dizzy.

“Such good manners for such a good girl.” He praises. You gulp, the feeling of his hand suddenly on your leg making you jump. The man notices, and frowns. “Cmon now, sweetness. I don’t bite.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You squeak out. He grins, his fingers inching up higher to ghost over the inner part of your thighs.

“Think we can keep ourselves a little busy before your brother gets here, don’t you think?”

You nod, dumbly, as his fingers ghost over your Cherry print panties underneath your skirt. It’s a new sensation; you’ve never been touched like this. You’ve heard it’s what people that are married do, people that love and care for each other. You don’t think this is how you’re supposed to do it.

“W-Wait, Barry—“

But it’s too late now, because his fingers are rubbing your clit in slow, soft circles. You let out a tiny moan, your legs automatically parting against your own will. You can feel an ache bubbling up in your core, your little button starting to throb.

“You’re so wet, goddamn.”

It comes out low and throaty, and when you look down at Barry’s hand you can see that he’s palming his cock through his basketball shorts. You don’t know why, exactly, but your mouth begins to water as you watch the outline of him through the fabric.

“W-Wet?”

Barry breathes out a laugh at your innocence, giving a teasing flick to the bud by thumping it with his thumb and forefinger. You squirm, a small noise of pleasure rippling out of you.

“You’re cunt, darlin’.” He says. “It’s wet. Happens when you start thinking about dirty things.”

You frown as your wetness drips on his hand. “‘M not… ‘m not dirty! I swear!”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me… I think you are.“ His fingertip teasingly ghosts over your hole. “— but that’s okay. I like dirty girls.”

His middle finger sinks inside you to the hilt. You gasp, the sensation making your hips lift off the couch when he curls it. You moan, breathy.

“That— that feels good..”

“I know, angel. And you’re gonna take another one for me, aren’t ya?”

“I-“ you hesitate, but another swipe against your clit with Barry’s thumb has you keening against the couch. “Yeah! Yes, yes, anything, I’ll take anything!”

His forefinger slips in, next. It’s tight fit, but nothing you can’t handle. And when Barry puts you into a chokehold with one of his strong arms, he drags your body into his lap. His bulge hits your ass and you let out a mewl, his fingers never leaving you. His pace increases, his other hand moving from your throat to your skirt. He lifts it up and pulls your underwear to the side so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you.

“These panties are so cute,” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes roll back when your sopping wet cunt begins to make harsh gushing noises. “It’s too bad they’re getting ruined, huh?”

You nod, not a single thought left in your hazy brain. Your ruffle socked feet accidentally kick the table from the pleasure making your body spasm. You barely even acknowledge it, but Barry’s unused arm goes to your neck again and he holds down on each side of your throat.

“Don’t break my shit, bitch,” he growls. “You and your brother owe me enough already.”

“I-I’m sorry!” It comes out choked, scared, and dripping of pleasure all at once. His thumb moves to your clit again. You can feel something inside you building up, a wad of tension threatening to release. Your brows furrow in confusion and you become worried. What if Barry gets mad at you for feeling this way?

“S-Sir—“ your hole throbs mercilessly, face scrunched up. “Barry— think ‘m gonna.. gonna pee! S-Stop!”

“No you’re not, baby,” He chuckles. “You’re gonna cum— only good girls cum. So wet my fuckin shorts, dollface.”

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, all of your limbs seizing up with tension. Your mind becomes foggy, and you scream as you begin to squirt all over your panties and onto Barry’s thighs.

“That’s it, honey. Shit, look at you…”

You sob, overwhelmed from all the sensation flooding your psyche. You stay against Barry, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort as your eyes droop. But you know you can’t sleep yet; you won’t allow yourself to.

Barry presses a kiss to your neck, begins gesturing for you to get up. You move up on shaky legs. And as bad as it is, you frown when his body leaves yours.

“D-Did I do something wrong, sir?”

He doesn’t reply; he simply presses his lips to yours, harsh and full of want. His strong arms go around your waist and his fingers dance along the hem of your shirt. He moves the fabric up, and up, until your bra is the only thing left on your upper half. You let him do it.

He palms your breasts and you gasp at the sensation. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there.

“Take this off,” he says, gesturing to the cups holding your tits in place. You obey, shyly unclipping your bra and revealing your puffy nipples to him. His mouth goes down to suckle one of the buds into his mouth. He hums around it, scrapes his teeth against the sensitive nerves and then begins unzipping your skirt.

“Any guy ever touched you?” He asks, as your soaked panties become the only thing covering your body. You’re incredibly shy, now.

“No— no one has.”

“Good.” And then he’s taking your panties off, sliding them down your legs and leaving you completely in the nude. It’s invading, incredibly so, but your pussy begins to ache for another orgasm again.

“Sit back down.” Barry demands.

You obey and he sits down next to you. The material of the couch is cold against your skin as he grabs your hair and pulls you towards his body with a rough hand. You squirm, trying to find a position that makes you comfortable, and settling with facing him on your knees. He loosens the drawstring of his shorts as he looks down at you with lust glittering in his eyes. You aren’t sure where to put your hands, so you decide to rest one on Barry’s thigh and the other on the couch. He reaches into his now loosened shorts and pulls out his cock.

You gawk, the sight of a dick being an unfamiliar image to you. He’s girthy, perfectly thick and a bit long. Precum pearls at the head of him as he watches your pleading eyes. He grabs your hair, firm.

You gasp when he shoves your face against him. Your ass is up in the air now, your tits pressed flush against his thigh. His tip is wet against your cheek, smearing precum all over your nose and underneath your eyes.

“Feel that?” He purrs.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah..” your hand reaches to touch it, curiosity peaking your interest. “It’s— its really pretty.”

“Yeah?” He gathers a string of his pre onto his finger, brings it up to your face and rubs it teasingly against the opening of your lips while you busy yourself with playing with the base of him. “Get a taste, baby.”

Your face turns a deep cherry red as you shyly stick your tongue out. His arousal coats your tongue, and as disgusting as you feel you can’t help but love the taste of him.

“‘S good,” you murmur. “I— I wan’ more of it.”

“I bet you want my cum all inside, don’t you?”

Your bottom lip turns down and you cutely raise your eyebrows together. “What’s cum? You keep saying that…”

He laughs, genuinely laughs. Your stupidity is amusing to him.

“Dressing in all those short little skirts and lookin’ at me with those pouty lips and you still don’t understand what I’m saying? You really are dumb.”

You shake your head, the words “I’m not dumb” falling from your lips over and over as you lean down and lick up some more of his pre to satiate yourself. Barry’s tongue runs along his bottom lip as he watches you, a large hand going down to stroke your hair out of your face.

“Cum is the stuff that comes out when you get that really good feelin’. “ he explains. “You came earlier, so I bet that little pussy’s coated in it right now.”

You bite your lip, kitten licking his cock once more and then pulling back.

“I wanna make you cum.”

He grabs your hair and pulls you back down. “I know.”

You whine, and then he’s groaning and bucking his dripping length against your lips.

“God, I know that mouth is—“ he doesn’t even hesitate to find the opening of your mouth and slip his tip inside. The taste is odd to you, but not inherently unpleasant. He’s musky and you can smell the scent of his arousal radiating off of him. “—so goddamn good. Fuck yeah, that’s it.”

You moan around him, your mouth swallowing him up more as the weight of his aching prick makes you more and more turned on. You down him as much as you can, his girth making the corners of your glossed lips burn.

“Knew a little kook girl like you would be good at taking dick,” Barry drawls. His hips thrust against your intensely, heavy balls slapping against your chin and spit leaking down them from your gaping mouth. “Cock taste good, baby? Huh?”

The choked moan and the string of drool pooling out of your mouth and down your neck tells him all he needs to know. He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet it does. Drooling little bitch.”

You know he’s right. And as bad as it is, the humiliation that he’s bestowing upon you is pleasurable. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs at his words.

You moan, moving his hands off your head so you can move off of his cock and begin suckling his balls. He moans loud and his fingernails dig back into your scalp again. You’re desperate, desperate to feel his skin and his smell and his taste, and you’re whining while you lick his heavy sack with hard strokes of your tongue.

“God, such a sweet fuckin’ slut. You’re doin’ so good.”

You whimper, downing his cock again and gurgling around him. Your pussy is soaked, and you try to move it around on the material of the couch to get friction. Barry grins when he sees your desperation.

“Needa cum?”

You pull off of him with a pop, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. “Yes sir.”

His fingers touch your swollen clit. Teasingly, just to see you squirm as he shoves his cock in your mouth again. And when he begins to rub harshly, you begin to buck your hips against him. Your second orgasm is already nearing, and when it happens you shake and choke around his length. He gives your pussy a light slap and yanks you off of him. Your mascara is smeared, lipstick staining the edges of your mouth and your hair stuck to your forehead in messy strands. Barry pulls you up to give you another kiss. And then he pulls you onto his lap again.

And in the midst of your lips on his, you hear his phone ring.

It’s on the nightstand next to the couch. An easy reach for him, and as he grabs the phone you see the words ‘COUNTRY CLUB’ flash across the screen in bold white letters.

Your eyes widen, shaking your head as Barry chuckles out, “damn, sweetness. It’s your brother.”

“Please… d-don’t let him—“ you cry, exasperated, as Barry presses his bare cock to your entrance. “Don’t let him know what I did— please! He’ll be so mad at me…”

The older man grins as he holds you down onto his cock; not quite in just yet, but it makes you quiver thinking about him stretching you out. He mocks you with a bullying tone.

“Aww, don’t worry honey.” He coos. “I won’t tell your big brother you’ve been a bad girl. Just let me pick up this call.”

Relief almost washes over you, if it wasn’t for the fact that Barry is still pressed flush against you. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate. He presses the green button, signaling that he’s answered the call.

“Where is she?”

Rafe’s voice sounds on the other line, and he’s extremely pissed.

“Perfectly fine, country club. In fact, I think she’s having the time of her life right now” Barry quips, as if you’re not dripping down his cock with a look of shame on your face. “I just need my money..”

He pauses, watching as your eyes furrow closed and you begin to move against him. You’re lost in your own pleasure now. You can’t help it. The sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit has you clenching and aching to release. You bury your face in his neck, trying to contain your whimpers.

“Look, man,” Rafe starts. He doesn’t like the way those words spewed from Barry’s lips. It makes him uneasy.

“I’ll— I’ll get your money, okay? Just— promise me you won’t hurt her. Please.”

“Oh,” Barry lets out a laugh. “We’re far from that.”

He lifts your hips with one of his hands. His tip begins to probe your entrance. You gasp as your walls sink down on him.

“In fact, I think I can drown out your little debt and set you up for another month.”

#Barry (obx)#Barry obx #Barry (obx) x reader #Barry (obx) x fem! reader #Barry (obx) x innocent! reader #Barry (obx) x Bimbo! reader #obx #outer banks #Barry outer banks #Barry obx fanfiction #Barry obx smut

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daytaker · 5 months

Note

Hiiii! I’m the anon that asked for the MC’s family request and it was hilarious, 10/10 if you don’t mind May i possibly ask for a part 2 with the dateables? Thanks for reading!

(Part 1: The Brothers)

"Mom, Dad, these are my other four boyfriends and my son."

...is what you almost do say when there's a knock at the door a few weeks later while you're entertaining your parents, your sister, and teenage cousin who's stuck with your folks while your aunt is on a cruise. Your parents stare at you with faces that all but beg you to ignore the damn door. Is it that cult again?

"Open the door! Is it that cult again?" your sister asks with shining eyes. She's been discussing going backpacking across the country ever since she met those seven hot guys who apparently adore you now. Your parents are devastated.

"Cult?" asks your cousin, looking up from his Switch with dead eyes. Your sister starts explaining to him as you go to the door and look through the peephole.

Oh, Christ. Oh, fuck. Oh, son of Gardonus---it's the son of Gardonus.

Opening the door just partway, you see that it's not just Diavolo. No, he brought the whole crew with him. Barbatos, naturally, but also Solomon, Simeon, and even little Luke. Diavolo holds a bouquet of flowers and Luke has a covered platter that almost certainly contains some kind of cake.

"Hiiiii, guys..."

"MC! It's been too long!" laughs Diavolo in his booming voice.

"It's been...a month..." you concede. Why, just...why...do all these handsome men find you so alluring? This is just your cross to bear, apparently. "It isn't a great time though, so---"

"Is that them?" Your cousin is standing behind you, peering out the door.

"No, this is... Who the hell...? MC, don't tell me there are more of them?!" Your sister is clearly astounded, and also quite delighted. "Invite them in! Invite them in!"

So, soon you're standing in the middle of your tiny apartment again, surrounded by friends and family, holding flowers and a cake, and feeling like you'd love it if a chasm in the earth opened up and swallowed you.

"There were more?" Your mom sounds hurt, like you'd been intentionally hiding things from her. "How many more besides these?!"

"Arguably three, but I don't know them well enough for them to visit," you say, winking reassuringly to the nervous author.

"Oh my god, there's a kid?!" Your sister has noticed Luke now. "Holy shit! Whose is he?"

You point mutely to Simeon, who smiles uncomfortably and waves.

"I'm not a kid!" Luke protests. "I'm--"

"You're a pre-teen. We know, Luke. We know." Solomon laughs dangerously, and Luke doesn't put up any more arguments.

You clear your throat. God, this is even more uncomfortable than the last go-round.

"Um, so. Everyone, I'd like you to meet---"

(Individuals are below the cut!)

Diavolo

Diavolo, who was never good at standing by quietly while other people talked, steps forward before you have a time to do any introductions. He extends a hand to your father, who has been eyeing him resentfully all this time.

"You all must be MC's relatives. What a delightful person you've brought into this world! I am Diavolo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"'Diavolo'?" your cousin mutters, looking at his Switch screen again. "Like from JoJo?"

Dia looks very confused, and as your father hasn't shaken his hand, he smiles awkwardly at you. "Perhaps I'm approaching this the wrong way? Are the customs here very different from...ahem. Where we are from?"

"You mean Italy?" your cousin says.

"Ah-- Yeah. Dia's Italian. People here are a lot less friendly," you tell him.

Your sister asks him how someone like him ended up in a cult.

You remind everyone that you were not in a cult.

"But you met my baby while they were away from home," Mom says accusingly, glaring at Diavolo. "When they were vulnerable and confused."

Diavolo has no idea what to say to that. Your dad is still glaring at him.

Solomon

"This is Solomon. He's---"

"I'm their mentor and closest companion," Solomon says helpfully, taking your hand. "We have a very special relationship."

You really wish that chasm would stop taking its sweet time and open up already.

"Mentor? Special relationship?" Dad finally speaks up, and his arms are crossed over his chest, his expression deadly serious.

"This must be your father," Solomon observes, still smiling. "Sir, it's an honor to finally meet you. I hope I have an opportunity to speak with you privately later. We have a lot to discuss."

Your mom is ready to throw hands with this guy. Your sister is enchanted. Your cousin is cursing under his breath at his Switch.

Solomon wraps an arm around your shoulders and you elbow him in the gut. He smiles through the pain but lets you go.

Simeon

"...Simeon. Simeon, these are my parents. This is my sister, and this is---"

"Is there some sort of attractiveness requirement to join this cult?" your sister asks, beaming at Simeon.

You remind her that there is no cult.

Surprisingly, your parents don't seem nearly as hostile to Simeon. Maybe it's that angelic charm at work. They both shake his hand, which is significantly more than they were willing to do with anyone else.

"Simeon, that's a good, decent name. What do you do for a living?"

"I own and operate a cafe."

Nice one, Simeon. Very smooth. And your parents look even more impressed.

"A business owner, eh? And at such a young age..."

No one points out to them that Simeon has probably been alive longer than humans have existed.

Luke

"...Luke!" He has a completely normal human name! High fives all around!

"And that's his father?" Mom points at Simeon. "He looks awfully young..."

"Oh, Luke's an orphan. Simeon's just his guardian. It's really sad actually. His parents died when their car careened off a cliff."

How did he end up living with a cult though, they want to know. That Simeon guy can't be a very responsible caregiver if he's living on the road.

You explain to your family (again) that they aren't in a cult, that Luke is a totally normal orphan child with a stable and loving home, and yes, Mom, he goes to school. Yes, Mom, he eats vegetables. No, Mom, you don't need to call DCFS.

"He's so cute," your sister coos.

"I am not!" Luke yaps.

"And he's shaking and everything! You know what he reminds me of?"

You rub your temples.

"A Chihuahua."

Barbatos

"This is, uh... This is..."

Barbatos smiles at you and offers not an iota of assistance. He finds this entire thing pretty funny.

"This is Barb... Barbados..."

"What, like the island?" your sister asks.

Yes.... Just like the island....

And yeah, he talks. Sometimes he talks a lot. I don't know why he isn't talking. Barbs, say something.

"It is an honor to finally meet your family, MC. What a charming collection of people."

"I like your hair," your cousin says, actually looking up for once. "And those are pretty sick beads."

You agree that Barbatos's human clothes are pretty sick.

Did you say human clothes? That was weird of you.

Your mother asks why everyone in the cult paints their nails besides Simeon and Luke. You tell her that there is no cult, but, uh, it's just a fashion thing. They just like it. Don't be judgmental.

Your cousin agrees. Don't be judgmental, Auntie. He paints his nails black. So, like, what, is he in a cult now?

You remind everyone that there is not and never was a cult.

Your cousin tries to give Barbatos his Tiktok and tumblr accounts, and Barbatos smiles very graciously but refuses on the grounds that he does not have a Tiktok or tumblr.

After you manage to get the group out of your apartment, shoving Solomon out as he farewells you as his adorable apprentice, you slam the door shut and lock it.

Your parents smile at each other, agreeing that you could do much worse than that nice Simeon boy. Your sister insists that she is going to backpack across the country with at least ten or eleven hot men, even if they do have a kid with them, and nobody is going to stop her. And your cousin has put down his Switch and is now designing a vampire OC that looks suspiciously like Barbatos.

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absolute-flaming-trash · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Fem!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'882

Warnings: Yandere, Abuse, Abusive relationship, Choking, Degradation, Manhandling, Threats, Possessiveness, Alastor is a massive asshole and mean as shit. Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Hindsight was always 20/20.

A bit of an understatement, really. Looking back it was hard to believe just how much one decision could impact your entire afterlife, and you wanted to kick yourself.

Desperation was the excuse you gave yourself whenever you thought about why you made a deal with Alastor.

What he proposed wasn’t something you thought too much of at the time. In exchange for your soul, he offered you security - solidarity in a realm where most were keen on focusing on the weakest among them and tearing them to shreds. Not only would you be protected on a daily basis, but you had, essentially, a guarantee that you would survive extermination day whenever it inevitably rolled around.

Seemed almost too good to be true, but knowing the risks involved in refusing, you had accepted.

He never asked much of you in return, much to your surprise. Nothing that ever seemed too unreasonable, at least. If anything, the things he asked of you felt more like exchanges that would occur between friends - taking on small tasks he’d otherwise find too boring to entertain.

Sometimes you’d even go as far as to call them domestic.

Oh, but you knew better than to assume your relationship fell anywhere close to friendship. Amicable was a better word, not good nor bad, but certainly nothing to be overtly confident about - which made what you intended to ask so much worse.

The very thought of it made a shiver go through your body as you walked through the Hotel hallway. A voice in the back of your mind, your conscience perhaps, whispered that it wasn’t too late to turn back. To do a complete 180 and march right back the way you came.

You didn’t listen.

By the time you came to a stop, the hairs on your arms stood completely on end. The door in front of you looked exactly like the others that lined the hallway, deceptive in its mundane simplicity. It only made the feeling of foreboding that much worse as you held your breath and raised your hand to knock, knuckles barely grazing the polished wood at first but connecting more solidly the second time around.

A part of you prayed there wouldn’t be an answer, nails digging further into your palms as the silence extended onwards.

Please don’t answer, please don’t answer-

All hopes were dashed by the dark wood swinging open to reveal a wall of red.

Alastor bent slightly at the waist when greeting you, bringing his eye level slightly down to yours, “My, my, what a pleasant surprise this is!~”

The smile you could muster in response didn’t even come close to matching his own, and your greeting not nearly as jovial.

“Hi.” You said, pausing briefly between words. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes?”

The signature clicking of his vertebrae accompanied the tilt of his head as he stared down at you intrigued. “Whatever for?~”

You began to pick at your nail beds. “Just to talk.”

Alastor hummed, amusement dancing behind his eyes before he opened the door to his suite a little bit wider.

“Oh, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for somebody like you.~”

The way he said it made you unsure whether such a statement was a compliment or an insult, but regardless you followed him inside.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you…” You began to say, looking around the space. No matter how many times you’d been inside, you’d never get used to it.

“Not at all, sweetheart!~” His arm came around your shoulders, leading you further into his suite and towards the table he had set up in the swampland that seamlessly blended in with the decor.

With a flash of green another chair appeared beside his own, and he gestured towards it with the end of his microphone staff.

“Have a seat.~”

You complied, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did so. Foolishly, you had hoped to stay standing for this conversation in order to keep it as brief as possible. The cool metal of the chair dug into the skin of your thighs despite your clothing and you found yourself staring at the tabletop rather than at Alastor himself.

“Now,” There was some rustling of paper as Alastor picked a newspaper back up off the table, half paying attention to you when he spoke. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

This was it. No going back, no cutting corners, better to rip the bandaid off than to beat around the bush.

You bit your cheek harder and you could already taste the blood on your tongue before you opened your mouth.

“I want out.”

Alastor barely looked in your direction, but the subtle twitch of his ear was hard to miss once you spoke.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow but never took his eyes off the paper in his lap as he turned the page. “Care to elaborate?”

“Our deal.” The words felt thick when you spoke them. Heavy. “I want my soul back.”

Alastor’s pause made the atmosphere feel nothing short of dreadful as he turned his head to look at you directly. His ever-present smile widened while his eyes narrowed.

“Now what makes you think you deserve that, sweetheart?~”

“It isn’t about deserving anything.” You stated, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “It’s… renegotiating.”

Alastor snickered, the sound accompanied by a pre-recorded laugh track.

“Well, aren’t you simply adorable?” He placed the newspaper off to the side and rapped his claws against the table. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how deals work.”

Your hands curled into fists in your lap as he continued speaking.

“While the deal we made was a fairly simple one, the end result is the same.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I own your soul. There aren’t any take-backsies on the matter.”

Nails bit into your palm at the syrupy condescension in his voice. It made anger brim in your chest, but acting on emotion was not a smart move here.

You took a deep breath. “Our deal has run its course, though.” You did your best to ignore how his eyes narrowed further at that. “Now that I’m at the Hotel… it offers what you originally did, so your part of the bargain is no longer necessary.”

His eyes flashed, glowing a brighter red and illuminating the space between the two of you for a moment.

“Ah, I see. You think our deal is now void because I’ve been replaced in a sense.” His smile was anything but reassuring or kind. “And therefore you shouldn’t be expected to uphold your end of the bargain, am I correct?~”

You swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

Alastor tutted. “My dear, who are you to get to decide when our deal is void in any way, shape, or form?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, but you answered anyway.

“Because it’s my soul.” The firmness in your voice did little to cover how weak of an answer that truly was. “I should be able to get a say in when we’ve reached the end of our contract-”

A green flash and the cold snap of metal around your neck cut off any further words you had to say. You barely had any time to register your air getting cut off as you were yanked forward harshly into the dirt - leaving you coughing when the chain slackened enough for you to breathe once more.

“It seems to me that you are forgetting a few things, darling,” Alastor said, pulling sharply on the chain once more to force your face back up to his.

Green stitches lined the seams of his clothes and wove at the edges of his smile - antlers growing with each word he spoke, and it took every bit of courage you had to bite back a whimper.

He was pissed.

“Firstly, the Hotel,” He cooed sweetly,” is the sanctuary you rave it to be because I keep it that way.”

Alastor stood from his chair and stalked towards you, wrapping the end of the chain around his microphone as he went.

“Secondly, might I remind you that it was you who approached me.” He hissed, faux kindness mixing with the barely contained anger you could see in his eyes.

“You,” He nudged your chin with the end of his microphone, “ came to me with the proposal of offering yourself in exchange for my services, not the other way around.” His eyes scanned over your form - lingering on the way your chest moved rapidly to accommodate your breaths before returning to your face.

“I've grown... accustomed to you, my dear, and our deal stands until I say so. Since you are seemingly incapable of understanding the subtleties of that, I’ll put it in simple terms so you can understand.”

The cool metal of your collar was soon replaced with the warm, smooth texture of his glove as he kneeled in the dirt and wrapped his hand around your neck. The gesture made you gasp, reflexively drawing in as much air as possible before he could choke you, but Alastor didn’t squeeze. Instead, he let the weight of his hand do the work.

“I own you. Every breath you take, every little thought in that empty head of yours belongs completely and solely to me.”

The black of his gums peeked out as his smile - which felt more akin to a snarl - widened. “Besides, what would you even do if I gave your soul back?”

Another rhetorical question, but the humiliation and inequity of the situation caused you to answer once more despite everything inside screaming at you not to.

“That’s my business.”

The sheer volume of emotion that passed through Alastor’s eyes told you that was the wrong fucking answer to give.

He snickered and leaned closer to the point you could smell the rot of his breath. “See, you might think that, darling, but since you’re mine, it’s my business too. So here’s how this is going to go.”

The hand around your throat began to squeeze.

“My business is to keep you. You’ll keep doing each and every little thing I ask of you, and you certainly won’t voice complaint when doing so.”

You choked and sputtered again when he hauled you to your feet by your throat and pushed you back into your seat - the armrests catching you directly in the funny bone, causing you to yelp. He placed his hands on either side of you and leered over you. It was the smallest you’d ever felt in your life.

“I’m more than willing to speak to you about anything you wish, darling, I truly am.” He said, inhaling deeply before continuing, and you swore his smile dropped the most you’d ever seen it.

“But if you ever try to speak to me about this again, you’ll learn just how easy you have it with me, is that clear?”

You felt yourself nodding before your mind could even register it. “C-crystal.”

A mixture of relief and dread sunk in your stomach when his smile returned to its normal state and he reached his hand up to pat you twice on the head.

“That’s my girl.~”

#riri writes #Alastor #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Alastor #Yandere!Alastor #Alastor x Reader #The Radio Demon #The Radio Demon x Reader #tw yandere #tw abuse #tw abusive relationship #tw choking #tw degradation #tw manhandling #tw threats #dead dove do not eat #tw possessiveness

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h-hollieskz · 23 days

Text

ALMOST THERE

introduction | masterlist

->pairing : sub lee know x dom gn reader

->word count : 700+

->synopsis : lee know

->tw : idrk with this one, edging?, use of kitten once (I couldn’t resist sorry)

->authors note : was considering putting this in the tw, but this whole thing is incredibly sloppy and low key shit, but I’m just trying to get back into the habit of posting so bear with me

What you could only describe as the cry of an angel escaped your boyfriend’s plush lips as your fingers curled up onto his spot, his half-lidded eyes the epitome of a man far too gone to form a coherent sentence. Leaking on his stomach was his achingly hard cock, neglected through your teasing and cruel ministrations and you didn’t have any intention of getting him off any time soon.

Every time his body began to convulse, heart rate rising just a little too high, you’d pull away, leaving him to chase his orgasm desperately, tugging on the binds that held his wrists. He’d never pictured himself in this position and had you asked him a few months ago if he’d consider it he’d have scoffed in your face.

You see, your usually so proudly dominant boyfriend had agreed to a bet, allowing you to take control for one night, granted that you beat him at bowling (his pride certainly had gotten ahead of him considering his shaky skills at the sport). Despite not exactly being so great at it yourself, you still managed to beat him with quite some points between you both. The look on his face had been priceless.

Let’s just say that well, that night Minho learned some things about himself.

He’d already been denied twice at this point, and this is where previously you had given in. You reckoned he could take more though.

Lube squelched as you drove two fingers into his loose hole, aiming directly for his prostate each time and basking in the small yelps he let out, similar to the mew of a cat. His small hands were clasped together, knuckles turning white, in the soft fabric that tethered them together and his legs squirmed helplessly beneath your weight. Your hand danced around his crotch, caressing his thighs which you admired so greatly.

His pink lips were open in a small, delicate ‘o’ as he could feel himself approaching his release again, believing for a second that you were going to let him and whining as your touch departed again.

“Pl-please. I haven’t done anything wrong.” He gasped lightly. It was almost phrased as a question, begging you to tell him what he’s done. His usual grouchy tone returning slightly as he remarked, “just let me cum already.”

It was cute you decided. He believed that it would work. What he didn’t realise is how much harder he was making it on himself as you gripped his jaw like a vice, staring him cold in the eyes.

“Good kittens don’t make demands, they take what they are given.” You said through gritted teeth before continuing “If you don’t want it, you know your safeword.”

His glare began to soften as he gulped, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand found his cock, gliding it up and down his length agonisingly slowly. In a second you’d give him what he wanted, judging that he was right, he had done as you’d asked that evening, and you already pushed him so far. He deserved a treat. You just had to make him suffer a tad bit more first.

“You look so beautiful like this, you know that right.” His scrunched up face barely reacted to your words, but he let out another small whimper. You reinserted your fingers into his wet heat, Minho’s face relaxing slightly as he lost himself again.

It wasn’t long until he was at the edge again, a few beads of sweat noticeable in his hairline. He had gotten considerably noisier, the closer he got, eyes refusing to open right until he tipped over, body convulsing in pleasure as his orgasm rocked through him. It was more intense than any other he had experienced, and you made sure to kiss and ease him through it until the aftershocks were over. A sheen of sweat covered him as he flopped back, and you quickly undid his wrists.

“You handled that so well, baby.” You mumbled into his ear, peppering him with kisses, “did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah.” You faintly heard him say, and you didn’t press for more information.

“Do you want a bath?” You asked, ready to jump up and go run it for him.

“In a few minutes, jus want to lie here with you for a bit.” He whispered into your neck where you held him.

honestly gonna cry

#skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #sub skz #stray kids x reader #sub stray kids #dom reader #skz sub #skz lee know #lee know smut #sub lee know

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i-luvsang · 7 months

Text

barista!au — choi san

pairing : barista!san x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : unedited, sorry if your drink preferences don't match reader's lmao ➖⟢ wc : 0.8K

⟢ barista!san is just about the sweetest guy imaginable

⟢ he actually adores his job and it shows; it’s really quite admirable

⟢ he’s kind to each and every one of his customers (so long as they’re kind to him and the people around!! he doesn’t take shit from anyone tbh)

⟢ but he just loves to feel like he can be a good part of someone’s day with his dazzling smile and delicious drinks

⟢ those two things certainly brighten up your day, so much so that it took you just a week to become a regular customer

⟢ his blushing cheeks, shy, but uncontrollable smile, and never failing kindness have you eagerly coming back for more

⟢ plus his spiced chai lattes are some of the best you’ve had, both iced and hot

⟢ that alone could have you hooked as a regular, but you suppose it doesn’t excuse the way that you pay close attention to when san is on shift

⟢ he’s glad you’re there almost every day he has the mid morning shift, but he gets a bit jealous when wooyoung tells him you were there hours after his normal shift one day

⟢ of course, that all goes away the next day when you show up during his shift explaining to him that you had an unexpected appointment

⟢ that fact that you tell him without him even asking gets his hopes up, so when you say that you were sad to miss him, his heart is sent into a frenzy

⟢ all flustered, he puts the wrong drink into the tablet and neither of you realize until the drink is made and you’re taking a sip of it

⟢ you don’t notice because the price isn’t any different than what you expected, and he was on autopilot, too busy thinking about the fact that you wanted to see him yesterday and the way that you look stunning in your outfit today

⟢ but when you do sip it, it’s clear it’s not what you ordered. afterall, chai lattes don’t really taste like the matcha latte you wanted today

⟢ “oh, san, this is a chai!” you say, goodnatured and not upset one bit

⟢ “yep!” he’s a bit confused why you pointed that out for a split second, then his face falls. “oh my god, is that not what you ordered?”

⟢ you have to resist the urge to laugh out loud because of how mortified you look. “no, i ordered a matcha latte, but it’s no problem! i can’t help it if fate’s decided that i need two treats today. my bank account may not like it, but i do!”

⟢ he looks a bit more relieved that you’re not upset about it, but he’s still quick to apologize.

⟢ “and your bank account will not suffer in the slightest, the matcha’s on the house! thank you for telling me, i’d hate for you to walk out without the drink you really wanted.”

⟢ “thank you,” you grin. “and seriously, it’s no big deal! you know how much i love your chai’s.”

⟢ “it’s a big deal to me!” he says, impassioned as he begins preparing the right drink. he’s glad there’s no one else waiting to order

⟢ “it’s important for me to get everyone’s order right, especially yours! getting the drink you’re in the mood for is a satisfaction i need to give all my customers.”

⟢ even though he’s included all of his customers, you can’t help but love the idea that he’s still said “especially you”

⟢ “especially me?” you echo back at him

⟢ he stumbles over his words a bit as he tries to explain. “well, i mean, yeah! i mean, you’re the one we’re talking about right now aren’t we! but– but also yes. yeah. especially you.” by the end he’s definitive, sure in his words and tone

⟢ “because you’re my favortie customer.”

⟢ you grin. “thanks. you’re my favorite barista.”

⟢ he’s really blushing now, with a wide smile to match yours

⟢ “well, if the feeling’s mutual, do you think i could get your number?” the way he says it is just a bit bashful, in the way that makes him so irresistably adorable

⟢ “i think that’s a great idea, my favorite barista.”

⟢ you’re going to have to stop calling him that, or his heart might burst

⟢ a few moments later, you’re handing him a napkin with your number on it in exchange for your matcha latte

⟢ “i also think it would be a great idea if you let me know when you get off work, so long as you’re not busy afterwards?”

⟢ you love making him smile like the way he is now, though you also think it may give you a heart attack with how lovely he looks

⟢ “i’m off at one, and i’m definitely not busy.”

⟢ “perfect. i’ll see you at one!” and with that, you’re out the door, two warm drinks in hand to brave the chilly air and a grinning glance back at him before you’re out of sight

⟢ he’s left with something in his heart that’s probably warmer than your two drinks combined and what he would like to call a bit of a dream come true

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writingseaslugs · 11 months

Text

Diasomnia: When They're Sick

Ahhhhhh finally! This dorm actually took the longest because I kept getting side tracked with other things. Took me two days to write it. I blame my friend, Em. We had write night and we couldn’t stop talking long enough for me to write these. I got midway through Lilia before giving up.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Diasomnia: When They’re Sick

Fae sickness was something that was vastly different from the kind that humans experience. It’s normally stronger and makes the person infected feel like a zombie. Thankfully the virus doesn’t circulate too often, but when it does it comes through like a hurricane. All it takes is for one person to visit Briar Valley when it’s going around and then come back to the dorm and everyone who can get it is sick. Sadly this happened and to say that everyone was in the dorm was suffering was an understatement. Even the humans were getting sick from flu season…overall not the best time to be visiting Diasomnia.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus hadn’t been sick in a hot minute…how long we’ll never know. It just never really happened to the Dragon Fae. So when he did come down with a surprise flu that was exclusive to Fae, it caused a bit of an uproar in Diasomnia. Most students were told to keep quiet about the situation, but it didn’t stop rumors from spreading as Malleus began missing some classes. Sebek was tense while going to school and Lilia, for the most part, also wasn’t attending classes so he could care of the prince.

Lilia is the one who actually shows up to your dorm room to inform you about Malleus’s condition. He isn’t very subtle about it either, in fact he was a bit over dramatic as to how bad off Malleus was. Now at this point, the worst of his illness is gone. Lilia wasn’t about to drag you in for that shit show that was the first few days of the fae flu, but he is dragging you in on the last few days in order to help Malleus feel better emotionally. Poor dragon boy has been stuck inside his room not being able to do much, and it caused him to be restless. The moment he sees you appear in his room his entire day has already brightened up.

Malleus has no issues taking medicine, though what he takes is certainly not something you’d be used to. The glowing liquid in the vial looks almost alien as you hand it over to him. There were several lined up, all labeled according to when he had to take them. It was odd seeing him chug the glowing liquid since it was still glowing in his neck as he took it, only to fade out when it got past the neck. Apparently it was special medicine made in Briar Valley that was specially made to help combat the flu.

Please do him a favor and make something for him to eat…please. Lilia has been in charge of bringing him his meals, so some of them have been unique. Granted, Lilia did try following the recipes this time around to make sure Malleus didn’t get worse from his cooking, but they can only help so much. Lilia can’t help but think “Maybe if I add this it’ll help him feel better faster.” which ended up in a vile concoction. So please bring him something good to eat so he can have a palate cleanser. He’ll probably be asking if you can stay until he’s better just so he doesn’t have to eat another of Lilia's specialty meals.

You’re going to be receiving random gifts at your home as soon as he’s better, along with several letters. Chivalry isn’t dead when it comes to the dragon fae, and he’s making it known that he appreciates what you’ve done. You’re never going to find out about the earlier stages of him being sick though, so don’t worry. That’s something that you probably will never see in your lifetime if he has anything to say about it.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is also someone who doesn’t get sick very often; the last time he did was before Malleus was even born. So to say he was shocked when he began feeling sickly was an understatement. He knew exactly what was going on too, he had the fae flu a few times in the past, and it’s a feeling you never forget. So he’s already getting medicine prepared and telling everyone that he’s going to be taking time away from classes for maybe a week or two.

Lilia originally wasn’t going to be dragging you into this, but when you found out from Malleus that Lilia was acting strange and isolating himself in his room, you were curious. Lilia was in his room, covered in tissues with a red nose and watery eyes, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even notice you had come in, which says something. Of course he’s going to accept help even if it does pain him to let you see him like this, but he isn’t exactly able to do much himself at the moment.

Once he has you taking care of him, he’s going to be so happy and be far more of a big baby than he was earlier. He now has you to give him medicine and attention, and he’s living for it. He’s never actually had anyone taking care of him while he was sick, so this is new and pleasant for him. He’s going to be over the moon but also extra needy as he begs for an extra dose of medicine even though he had some like five minutes ago. You’re going to have to remind him to let it kick in, but he can’t help the whining. It’s so fun watching your facial expressions and despite being sick, he still needs to mess with you somehow.

This is the only time he might complain; and it’s not even for the reasons you think. He’ll take one bite of your food and comment he can’t taste anything, before asking for you to take him to the kitchen so he can add flavor. Don’t. Let. Him. Absolutely don’t let him even leave the room, he’s contagious and he’s aware, but he also really wants something with a strong taste so it’s a mix of emotions. Just let him know you’ll see what you can do and maybe grab something that’s…different to put into his meal next. It doesn't have to be good, it just has to be unique.

Once he’s better he is so hyped to be able to hang out with you again. He’s going to be jumping off the walls and thanking you for being such a good caretaker for the poor, old Bat. Silver, Malleus, and Sebek will also be thankful to you for helping Lilia, since he refused to let any of them see him while he was sick. He apparently didn’t even let Silver into the room, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to catch whatever he had. Lilia didn’t want anyone to see him so weak and frail, but you guess since you came in unannounced he didn’t have much of a choice.

Silver

Silver clearly can’t get a disease that targets fae, but that doesn't mean he can’t still get a cold. Falling asleep in random places can really ruin someone’s health, and Silver is no exception. He fell asleep outside and it got a bit too late, a little bit too cold. The next thing he knew he had a horrible cold and a raging headache that wouldn’t go away. So he did what was best and went to his room and tried to sleep it off without a second thought.

Silver in the past was always able to get over colds very fast, so Lilia never was too worried when he found out Silver was under the weather. You, on the other hand, were very concerned. If Silver just slept it off, then he might get better, but it was best to treat the cold as best you could. After all, colds could turn to pneumonia in the blink of an eye, and that can literally kill a human. Somehow this passed by Lilia’s knowledge so he never cared too much, but after you express this concern he goes full dad mode. He doesn't know much about treating humans though, so you’re the one leading the way. Thankfully Silver is too out of it to protest.

Silver will take whatever you give him judging by how he’s half asleep when you’re there. Whenever he’s sick he’s extra tired and literally can barely keep himself awake. It’s extremely concerning but Lilia swears it’s how he’s always been. Silver might be able to thank you while he’s half asleep, but that’s about it. Thankfully the taste doesn’t get to him while he’s in this state, so no worries about him spitting out the medicine or fighting due to the flavor.

This is the most challenging part about him being sick. Again…he can barely keep himself conscious. Just getting him to sit upright to have a meal is a struggle. You’re basically spoon feeding him as he begins dozing off every couple of seconds. You need to make sure he doesn’t drown in his soup. At one point, smelling salts actually do sound like a rather good idea to use on him. It’s going to take a solid hour for him to finish whatever meal you bring to him, but at least he’s eaten something. Normally when it’s just Lilia, he won’t eat until he’s all better. Small improvements are still improvements!

Silver hardly remembers being sick, but he does recall glimpses of you between his fever dreams. Once he’s back, he’ll be thanking you and asking if you’d like to go on a walk. It’s just his way of saying thanks. The walk is mainly so all the forest animals will run up and greet you guys, since they were all concerned once Silver was gone. The animals and Silver are very grateful for the efforts you put forward to assisting him in getting better. While he can’t promise he’ll be able to give the same care for you, he can at least say he’ll do his best if you ever fall ill.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek, out of everyone, is the worst when it comes to denying he’s sick. He could literally pass out from exhaustion from his illness, and he’d get back up and apologize for his displays in front of Malleus. Lilia is the one telling Sebek he needs to rest, and the only way Sebek will is if Lilia reminds him that his illness is contagious and could make Malleus ill. So of course this leads Sebek to going to another extreme and barricading himself in his dorm room so that no germs can get out. This makes it hard for anyone but Lilia to get in to check on him.

He refuses to let a human help him; you have no idea what a fae illness is. How could you possibly help? Wait…Malleus personally asked you to come help nurse him back to help since you can’t catch whatever it is he has? Why of course, Lord Malleus is so generous and he needs his guard back as soon as possible, so it makes sense he’d send a servant to help him. Just remind him you aren’t a servant and you’re here because you care for him. He will get flustered but will do his best after he is finally open to you helping him out.

Medicine is something that he’s not super stoked on taking, but if Lilia bought it, then he’ll take it. He will give you the side eye if you stare at him while taking it and ask what’s so interesting about it. When he grimaces it’s a bit funny with how his face scrunches up and he quickly tries to conceal it. You caught it though, it was so obvious that he disliked the taste and it was oh so adorable.

He’s not super picky when it comes to the stuff he eats while sick, as long as Lilia hasn’t touched it. He might even comment that it tastes good for something a human managed to cook up. That’s him secretly saying that it tastes amazing and he loves it, he’s just not going to say all of that out loud. He does prefer it if the meals will help him get better faster though, so keep that in mind. He also wants a lot of protein to be in it so he doesn’t lose bulk, because he might still be trying to work out while sick. Smack him over the head and tell him to take a chill pill and relax. If need be, get Lilia to do it for you. He needs rest and it’s not something he’s good at.

Once he’s better he’ll thank you out of obligation, because Lilia literally won’t let him go without saying it. He might even be blushing but he’s going to have to add something to make it into a subtle insult. “You played a good nurse…well for a human at least.” at least it’s something. Just inform him that it wasn’t for free and the next time you’re sick, he’s the one giving you medicine and home cooked meals. He can’t even say he won’t. He can’t be indebted to a human, after all.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader #Lilia x Reader #Silver x Reader #TWST Silver #Twisted Wonderland Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Sebek x Reader

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sssailorvanya · 5 months

Text

for once in my life, let me get what i want. [battinson]

please ignore my shit tenses | wc: 780(?)

You’ve never been one to ask for more beyond what you’re given. Your feet are always impossibly cold and your smile is missing from your face these days. Winter’s hard enough as it is. You didn’t know how to feel about the mysterious man dressed up as a bat, running around at night to fight crime.

You’ve heard what this mysterious vigilante does to the rogue criminals he catches. You’ve even witnessed his brutality a few times, thankfully never aimed at you. He saved you once. You were walking home, with your cold feet and blank expression, and a group of men had jumped out of a nearby alley. You had thought, ‘oh fuck, here we go again,’ and prepared to hand over your meagre possessions. You had not anticipated the fearsome vigilante materialising out of nowhere, throttling the living daylights out of all the men until they cowered in fear. You had watched, dumbfounded, as he picked up your small, bright pink purse and handed it to you.

You almost wanted him to keep it, if only for the comical juxtaposition.

So, no, you don’t know how to feel about him. Gratitude is a motivating factor but, nowadays, you barely feel anything at all. You certainly don’t feel anything when he takes your cold hand the second time you meet (another mugging foiled) and awkwardly massages it.

“For the circulation,” He growls softly.

You hum and let him massage your hand.

The citizens of Gotham call him “the Batman”, or simply “the Bat”. Sometimes they’ll call him “Vengeance” with a capital V, but nobody answers when you ask why.

You’re not native to Gotham, but you’re not from a city which was its polar opposite either. The gloomy weather and gothic architecture is a welcome reminder of the home you unwillingly left behind.

The third time you meet him, you feel braver than before. “You ever heard of the PJ Masks?” You ask softly, watching as he delivers a harsh blow to an unconscious thug (muggings are very common in Gotham, especially when they can sense that you’re not from here). He glances back at you, his lips pursed and his eyes smeared with dark eyeliner. You wish you could take off the cowl and see his full expression.

“I haven’t,” He says softly. His voice is jarring to listen to. You can tell he’s a man of few words so whenever he speaks, you are enthralled. You don’t know why. What sort of lunatic would be fascinated by a bat vigilante?

Lunatics like you.

“It’s a good show. Reminds me of you,” You say. Your lips don’t curl up in a smile but it’s a near thing. Your feet feel warmer today.

He’s a man who talks little, but he humours you anyway. “Must be good then.” You think you imagine the minute twitch of his lips as he turns away, his fearsome cape dripping with droplets of rain and blood. You watch him go.

Your hands are still cold.

The fourth time you encounter him makes you feel as if he’s started to keep tabs on you specifically. There’s no reason for the fearsome Bat to be lurking outside the 7/11 closest to your little apartment at 2am, but he is there. There’s no thievery to put an end to and no criminals for him to terrify. There is just you and the bright lights of the 7/11 and the jalapeños-and-cheese baked concoction in your hands. Your eyes are glimmering in the artificial light as you break off a piece.

You offer it to him, a small smile playing on your lips. He takes it from you slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Your feet are cosy and warm tonight. He doesn’t smile back but he does stand next to you all night. Gotham is quiet tonight. It’s a blessing in disguise for you both.

The last time you meet him, you are hurting all over. There is blood sliding down your face and your vision is blurred, but you know it’s him when someone takes your hand. He rubs your hand soothingly.

“For the… circulation… right?” You croak out. It’s hard to talk with chapped lips and broken teeth.

He doesn’t respond. His grip on your hand tightens.

Some upcoming villain in Gotham decided to launch a nefarious attack in the city centre. You were caught in the crossfire, as were many other civilians. But it’s you whom he chooses to comfort, and it’s you whom he clings onto as you fade away.

Your hand goes limp in his grasp. It’s cold.

But there’s a smile on your face and your feet are warm.

235 notes · View notes

magicxc · 3 months

Text

Sizes

Pairings: Survey Corps - their dick sizes

Word Count: 857

Warnings: none

A/N: this is so self indulgent, it aint even funny lol. Please enjoy what I think the bois are packing.

Eren - 9.5 inches

Phew I mean, this doesn’t take too much explaining…at least for me. Eren legit had the gall to wipe out 80% of the population so I can only imagine that he has the balls to match. It’s safe to say our boy is all bark and bite cause he’s absolutely backing up whatever the fuck he says. Needless to say, you need to be PREPPED before penetration.

Levi - 6.5

As my personal favorite of the bunch, daddy Levi is absolutely still working with sumn, okay!!! Let's not count our short king out the race. Matter of fact, I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that Levi is giving you THEE best seggs. As fun as size kinks are, let's be real, it hurts before it pleases. And 6.5 is like the perfect length to comfortably kiss your cervix. That stamina? His insomnia? The low, sultriness of his voice? Yeahh, you can kiss a good night's rest goodbye and your pussy will absolutely thank you for it. It’s been said that Levi is one of the best in terms of ODM use because of how quick he is while maneuvering the gear and the way it’s used is by the wearers shifting a lot of their weight to their pelvis for movement. Once again YOUR PUSSY WILL THANK YOU!

Erwin - 7.5

Though the Commander stands tall above his peers, he has some muscle mass to him and therefore I consider him a girthy fellow. Keep in mind this is the same man who stared down Reiner in his armor titan form, all the while being short one arm. It's been said that the horses that the scouts ride are bred specifically to outrun titans but what they leave out is that Erwins horse is bred specifically to carry balls as heavy as his. Lmfaoo this man is BRAVE, just daring a mf to try some shit. And he absolutely carries that trait into the bedroom as well.

Connie - 7.5

Connie has always given me goofball vibes. That “huh” ass mf was sorta the comedic relief to the show and it’s like omg you brought dick too?? Funny men be getting me ngl jksjsks. It’s been said that Connie views the Scouts training almost like a summer camp and while he made the top ten his competitive edge doesn’t really set in until he sees someone doing better than him lol. I genuinely don’t think dick size matters to him all that much so when he becomes sexually active and gets so much praise, it’s like ohh wow - new kink unlocked.

Jean - 10 inches

I'm willing to physically debate this lmao. This is probably the only thing he’ll beat Eren in, but I whole heartedly believe that Jean is packing a SCHLONG. He’s always stood above his peers throughout the show and as he ages, it’s more prominent. Tall and skinny men are literally always packing and those pencils wanna write in every book. Mans would absolutely put Mikasa through a mattress if given the chance.

Onyankopon - 8.5 inches

Even though Ony doesn’t get a whole lotta screen time, I can safely assume his length here. This is the same man who fucking DARED Floch to kill him AFTER witnessing him kill a few others for refusing to fall in line. You wanna talk about standing on business? Ohhh Ony’s your man through and through. Mans is always fighting for the greater good and even willing to sacrifice his life for the cause; it’s safe to say you’d bark if he asked you to.

Reiner - 7.0

Ok hear me out, mans is GIRTHY. And 7 inches isn’t a bad place to be at all. Very rarely do those beefcake ass men have length, but that doesn’t mean they're lacking. In fact, I’ll take it a step further and guess that Reiners smeat curves left. CHANGE MY MIND. Any man strong enough to wield that heavy ass armor titan is absolutely knocking the cobwebs off that pwussy. Needless to say, prep is still a must.

Armin - 7.0

Its certainly the quiet ones that shock you the most. Have you ever interacted with a chill and laid back man? It's definitely a reason for that and Armin is no exception. Although I consider him the least experienced, keep in mind that he is a QUICK learner. Every contort of your face and shift of your body is all the notes he needs to take to properly learn how to work your body over. And soon, you’ll be able to mold him to your perfect sex partner. That, coupled with his sweet attitude and sincere personality; sigh that bitch Annie really struck gold with this one.

Floch - 8.0

If you look up unhinged in the dictionary, you’d literally find a picture of Floch. Many can make the argument that he may be overcompensating for something, but I di-fucking-gress. Even though he can be a bit off the walls, it truly was for good reason and all in the name of his country and THAT, my friends, is big dick behavior.

110 notes · View notes

tangledinink · 9 months

Text

Well! It's not a Monday, and it's been a hot second. BUT!!! :3c Here! Chapter 27 of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is here! Raph and Casey finally get to have some long overdue bonding time together. Read it on ao3 or below the cut.

[ prev ]

“Why the hell is she ALWAYS HERE?!” Donnie cried in complaint, just barely twisting out of the path of a kunai’s bite, twisting backwards to retreat from his opponent’s assault.

“Great question. Honestly, it seems like you’re kind of obsessed with us. Sort of embarrassing,” Leo chirped in reply, grinning big as he spun into the fray, leaping in defense of his twin. The Foot Ninja easily dodged him and the sweep of his odachi, all but spitting at him in reply.

“DIE.”

“Damn, okay. Touchy,” Leo muttered.

Their opponent shrieked in response, throwing herself at her enemy, but was easily rebuffed by their father, jerking forward to shove her away from his children. Raph would admit she was an impressive fighter, but she was certainly no match for their dad. It took almost no time at all for him to pin her down to the ground, and Raph was just beginning to get a sense of deja vu when Leo heaved a great sigh.

“At least there’s only one of--”

“WHY? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!” Donnie squawked, whipping around to absolutely glare at their twin.

And god, you would not imagine what happened just a few seconds later.

Raph managed to punch out two Foot Clan ninjas and throw another through a storefront before he came about five centimeters from being knifed, and he was finally forced to seek temporary refuge, ducking behind the cover of a nearby sunglasses kiosk to catch his breath and attempt to get his shit together.

C’mon, Raph, focus. You got this. Everyone’s counting on you. You just gotta keep it together, and figure out where the Dark Armor piece is so we can grab it and get out without anyone getting--

“Raph!”

His younger brother’s excited, breathless cry severed his frantic train of thoughts, and his head bobbed upward just in time to watch Leo rush over to join him-- nearly skidding out in his rush. “I think I have a plan--”

Raph froze.

He swore he felt his entire body seize for just a second, his heart clenching up tight in his chest as though someone had just reached through him and grabbed it with ice cold hands.

“No,” he snapped in reply.

“What?!” Leo protested. “You didn’t even let me expl—“

“NO,” Raph hissed, harder this time. He didn’t let himself look back over at Leo, because he knew that he would just glare at him. And he knew that it would just make his body freeze up even more.

“Raph, I promise this will work, it’s—“

“Leo, STOP. I said no! What part of that don’t you get!?” Raph snarled and there was this horrendous tickling crawl running up and down his spine like there was a damn millipede under his skin, and he didn’t want to fight with Leo, so he just—

Ran.

He had to get back out into the fray sooner or later, anyway. They couldn’t just hide forever.

He didn’t wanna be angry at Leo. He didn’t wanna take things out on him. It wasn’t… his fault. Exactly. Totally? Maybe? And he didn’t wanna think about who’s fault it was, anyway, so this was easier.

He didn’t have to think about whether or not he was angry at Leo if he was taking it out on someone else.

And luckily, they were literally surrounded by evil ninjas right now. So. That was actually pretty convenient.

And yeah, okay, sure, there were a lot of them. But here’s the thing-- Raph was no scientist, but he had crunched the numbers, and he was pretty sure their dad was badass enough to count as at least two dozen ninjas, which meant their odds were actually pretty good.

And if their dad was at least two dozen, Raph couldn’t just sit back and let himself be just one.

There were a lot of Foot Clan soldiers, yes. But they had shown up here for a reason, and it was important. And this time, they weren’t just gonna retreat. Raph knew what was at stake-- they were gonna get what they came for.

(That’s what he had told himself at the time, anyway. That was the mantra in his head the entire time-- roaring through the fray alongside his family.)

Raph had been to this mall before. In fact, he’d been to this mall lots of times before. It was overall unremarkable, but the one thing that had always stood out to Raph was the elevator. And this was because Raph had always HATED it.

He didn’t want to say afraid, per se, because that would involve him openly admitting that he was afraid of the elevator. But really, could you blame him? It wasn’t that elevators in general frightened him, it was that THIS elevator frightened him. He remembered visiting this mall back when he was small with the rest of his family and begging his Dad to let them take the escalators instead.

Because how in the world could a glass elevator possibly be safe?! And who the heck would even enjoy that!? Let alone think it was a good idea to build one?!

His first thought he had upon his body careening through the glass, shattering on impact, having been sent flying after a particularly large, brutish member of the Foot slammed into his side, was “see? I was right. This was a bad idea.”

It was pretty much the only thought he had, actually, his brain a bit too caught up in the fact that they had just been thrown through an elevator shaft to really process anything else right away.

Thank god the rest of his body didn’t need his brain in order to react.

He didn’t need conscious thought to tell him to grab onto the remaining metal edge of the elevator, clinging to the closest thing he had to solid ground with his arm as the rest of his body dangled over open air.

(What floor were they on again? The third? The fifth?)

He also didn’t need conscious thought to tell him to grab onto the girl that had been thrown with him— the girl he had been locked into combat with about ten seconds ago.

With his free arm, he bundled her up as close as he possibly could to himself, and he hung on tight.

And for half of a second, they kind of just… hung there. Raph’s feet scrabbled against the smooth surface of the panel of glass below them, surrounded on all sides by thick glass and metal save for the hole just above them that Raph was now hanging onto for dear life.

He could feel little pieces of shattered glass falling down the back of his shirt and tickling at his skin.

He was vaguely aware of screaming from up above him, and while he could pick out his family’s voices amongst that of strangers, he couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. It was hard to hear anything over the heartbeat in his ears.

He glanced down at the girl shoved up against his side. For every bit he was hanging onto her, she was hanging onto him just as desperately, fistfuls of his clothing clenched up in her fingers.

Her eyes were so big.

“Hang on,” he heard himself saying, kind of distantly in the background. “Just hang on. I’ll get us back up.”

And almost as soon as he spoke, her eyes narrowed again.

About four things happened in very quick succession over the following five seconds.

The first was the girl hoisting herself upwards by her grip on him, twisting around with shaking fingers so she could draw a knife from her belt and lunge towards the arm that was not currently wrapped around her.

The second was a flash of crimson light overhead, tickling around the edges of the elevator car that currently sat about three stories above them.

The third thing was a horrific, shrieking groan of metal, followed by a sickening snap.

And the fourth was Raph letting go of his hold on the elevator shaft.

---

Casey was honestly a bit surprised to find that she had, in fact, not been killed in the ensuing fall.

She didn’t think she was even… hurt. At least not badly.

Now that the world had stopped spinning, she began to take quiet inventory, a soft groan escaping her as she strained to gather her bearings again. When she moved, shards of shattered glass fell off of her like snow, joining the mounds of it underfoot with little clicks and clatters. Upon moving, she also realized that there was still an arm wrapped around her, pressed up so tight around her middle that it was nearly hard to breathe. But it wasn’t quite painful.

She had just fallen about four stories. And yet, she was pretty sure she wasn’t even seriously injured. No broken bones, at least. Everything could still move. She could feel her arms, her legs, her toes. She could still feel all her fingers.

She had heard her clan members yelling before. Heard the command to cut the cable. If the fall didn’t kill her, then being crushed by a falling elevator car really should have. It should have killed them both. It was supposed to kill them both.

But it didn’t. They were both alive.

Because the person she had been attempting to murder, who still had an arm wrapped around her middle, hunched over her as if to shield her, currently had them both shoved into the very corner of the elevator shaft, shoved up against the concrete walls of the lower level they now resided in.

They hadn’t been crushed because he was holding up the elevator car that should have killed them, his arms encrusted in shimmering, crystalline red light.

He was also definitely not a human anymore.

“Are you okay?” He bit out, his voice tight and strained but still soft and wobbling with concern, and Casey gaped rather than answering. He shifted slightly, readjusting his stance. His upper body was braced up against one corner of the metal panel that made up the bottom of the elevator car— creating just enough of a pocket for the two of them to take refuge in, tented beneath the wreckage up above. His long, alligator-like tail shifted as he moved, sweeping through the broken glass.

Shhhh shhhhh.

“Oh my god,” Casey responded, her eyes wide. “… You’re actually a mutant turtle.”

“What?” He bit out, his eyes just barely flickering over to her, and Casey quickly bit her tongue.

“Nothing,” she spat, bristling slightly. Jesus christ, why was she talking to him? What the hell was she even doing…?

Come on, Recruit, get it together. Focus. You’re not dead. You didn’t die. So you still have a job to do.

Though her hands were shaking horribly, she lurched a bit to grab for her belt, only to realize with a dawning horror that her kunai were no longer there. I must have lost them in the fall… She bristled for a moment, wriggling from the other’s grip just enough so that she could back away— pressing herself up against the cold concrete wall. The space they had was incredibly limited, however, and the distance she could put between them was… minimal, to say the least.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she patted herself down again, and then a third time, not daring to take her eyes off the enemy but at the same time searching frantically.

She was unarmed.

And he was… a giant mutant reptile.

(And, look, she hadn’t exactly thought that Draxum was… lying, per se, but oh my lord. Seriously?)

She didn’t take her eyes off of him. And he didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Hey, uh,” he shifted slightly beneath the weight of the elevator, wincing a bit at the press. Shattered glass shivered softly beneath him as his feet moved. “Can you, uh, not stab Raph, please…? ‘Cause that’s gonna make holding this thing up… a lot harder…”

… Ah. She supposed he had a point.

A little voice in her head said that that didn’t matter. The benefit of eliminating a member of the Hamato Clan weighed far heavier than the loss of her life would to the well-being of the Clan. Killing him, and, in turn, herself would still measure out to be a win at the end of it all.

She should kill him.

And herself.

… But she… didn’t have her kunai anyway, right? So…

Perhaps she… wouldn’t.

She was still waiting to see if her heart rate was going to slow down any time soon, finding herself a bit annoyed with how rapidly it was still banging away in her ears, the skin there throbbing as blood raced through her veins. She kept sucking in long, steadying, calming breaths, trying to push it down, but the adrenaline had not yet run its course, it seemed.

“I… Will not stab you,” she finally said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, her body still tight and tense, muscles coiled. “IF… you do not make any attempts to harm me.”

She had no weapons, but he was one. Even if he was holding up a fucking elevator right now.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he wheezed, his voice caught somewhere between a shaking grunt and a laugh, and she scowled. “You’re not hurt—?” He prodded once more.

“Don’t ask me that,” she snapped, bristling in response and clenching her jaw. She didn’t understand what benefit he thought he would reap by pretending to be concerned. She wasn’t that stupid.

And if he actually was concerned, and it wasn’t an act, then it simply meant that he was the stupid one, and nothing else.

“Alright, okay…!” He bit out, once again adjusting his grip slightly, rolling one shoulder forward slightly to shift the weight he was carrying from one side over the other. “… It’ll be alright. My family is… gonna come get us. Any second…”

“You don’t know that,” she scoffed.

“They will,” he insisted, though now his eyes shifted away— staring hollow at the corner of the little pocket they were now trapped inside of. Casey could just barely pick out the movement of his lips and tongue, ghosting some sort of whisper to himself in between his heaves of breath. Seven, eight, nine, ten…

Counting. He was counting to himself. From one to ten, and then again, and again.

“You’re hurt,” Casey said— not really asking, but rather stating.

“’S just heavy,” he deflected. “… ‘M fine. Raph’s sturdy.”

Raph. Right… Short for Raphael. She knew their names. Of course she did, she just… hadn’t known their nicknames until now.

Or rather, hadn’t thought of them. What would she ever care what they called each other? What they answered to?...

… But she supposed she couldn’t actually disagree.

He was sturdy before, when he was a human.

She wasn’t sure she could find the words to describe how absolutely immovable he appeared to her now. It was equal parts impressive and absolutely infuriating.

God. She hated to fucking look at him. Especially now, like this.

It somehow felt like a goddamn threat. He was holding an elevator up over her head, hunched over to provide a shelter for her body, and it felt like he was fucking threatening her.

Well, it wouldn’t work.

“I’m not afraid of you, mutant,” she snapped, her lips curling back over her teeth.

“… Alright?” He said, sounding a bit confused, and Casey bristled in offense at the audacity he had to be baffled by her completely rational statement.

“I could still kill you,” she said.

For a long moment, it was quiet. Aside from her heartbeat. And his ragged breathing.

“… I’m not tryin’ to scare you,” he said. “… Sorry.”

There was another long moment of silence.

“What’s your name?” He asked. Casey stiffened slightly.

“I don’t have a name,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes, and then absolutely snarled when he bit out a bark of laughter in response.

“What do you mean you don’t have a name?” He wheezed. “You… You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want…!”

“I don’t have a name,” she pressed, harder this time, narrowing her eyes— hesitating for just a second.

“… The Foot Clan doesn’t have names. We renounce them,” she said after a moment. “…. We only take titles. They reflect our rank and our power. Names make you weaker.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this. It was stupid. He didn’t deserve to know. Because she was angry that he would look down on her for it…?

Because she was still mostly convinced that they would both die down here?

“… That’s sad,” he said.

“It’s not,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “… I think it’s sad. You deserve to have a name.”

“I don’t want a name.”

“What’s your title, then?”

“… Recruit.”

“Alright, then, Recruit,” he bit out, a tiny bit of a laugh still coloring his voice. “… I’m Raph. And my family is gonna get us out of here. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” she growled in response, narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t,” he assured.

And then, for a while, it was quiet again.

“Are you actually eighteen?” He said, and Casey scoffed.

“YES!” She yelped in response. “What, you don’t think I am!? I am clearly eighteen! I am very obviously an ADULT!!!”

“No,” he admitted, grinning just the tiniest bit. “Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she accused.

“Yeah, people say that sometimes…” He mumbled with a huff. He shifted again, readjusting his grip ever-so-slightly and twisting his feet, and the metal groaned ominously above them.

Just for a second, his footing slipped, and he jerked— and for just a single moment, the top of the world was falling again, and they were both about to be crushed.

His foot hit the side of the wall, and he braced, tensing all his muscles properly once more and holding steady.

Nothing fell.

The creaking up above quieted.

“… Ow,” he muttered, quietly, to himself, shakily, jerkily moving his foot again after several long seconds of both of them not daring to move or breathe— cautiously inching it away from the wall. A smudge of blood was left behind, Casey noted.

Her heartbeat had never slowed, and she was beginning to think that it never would.

“… You’re standing wrong,” she said.

“… What?” Raph bit out, glancing over at her after a long beat of silence.

“YOUR STANCE IS WRONG,” she spat, scowling slightly and fixing him with a hard glare. This is why she had to yell— no one ever wanted to fucking listen to her when she said things, and the things she said were important. “You’re going to hurt yourself or fall like that, you’re doing everything STUPID. Move your leg this way, and twist this leg out. And bend your knee, and… and move your arm over this way a little if you can. And it’ll spread out the weight better.”

At first, Casey didn’t think he was actually going to listen to her.

And then, very, very slowly, moving at a crawl, he shifted his body— following her instructions and making the corrections until he settled into place again. He was still shaking, and still panting, but just… the tiniest bit less now.

“… This is better,” he finally said.

“Of course it is,” she huffed, shifting just enough to shoot him a glare. “God. Doesn’t the Hamato Clan teach you anything?”

“Kinda,” he laughed. “… Is this what the Foot Clan teaches you? Seems… kinda… kinda niche…”

“The Foot Clan teaches me everything,” she hissed.

“Are they, like, your family?”

And Casey hesitated. Because she wasn’t sure how to answer that.

Yes, her brain said.

No, it said immediately after.

“… They are now,” she finally settled on, squaring her shoulders slightly. “Stop asking me questions.”

“Why?”

“You’re my enemy. I’m not giving you any information.”

“We ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”

“I don’t care.”

“You can ask me questions if you want,” he said. “Raph don’t mind.”

She scowled, and he shot her a weak, shaking, almost pleading sorta grin.

“C’mon,” he bade. “… ’S easier if I got somethin’ to think about.”

She narrowed her eyes, and her frown deepened.

This is to your advantage. You can get information from the enemy, right? This is good. Come on. Focus. Stop getting distracted.

“… Are you cold-blooded?”

“… What?”

“Stop making me repeat myself. ARE. YOU. COLD. BLOODED.”

“I don’t think so?” He said with a soft snort. “… I mean. Maybe? I’m not sure.”

“How do you not know?” Casey hissed.

“Well, I don’t… I don’t usually spend a lot of time in, uh… this body…!” He bit out.

“You’re stupid.”

“Quit sayin’ that.”

“No.”

He laughed a tiny bit, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “Why do you wanna know?”

Casey frowned. Why did she want to know?...

“… I’m just curious.”

“How old are you?” Raph asked.

“I’m eighteen. And I told you not to ask me questions.”

“You’re not eighteen.”

“I AM!!! I AM EIGHTEEN!”

“Nah! There’s no way you’re older than me!” He laughed. “You look like you’re in high school or somethin’.”

“I don’t go to school,” she growled, curling her lips with distaste. “And I am eighteen.”

“Why not?”

“I already told you,” she hissed. “I learn everything I need from my clan. Stop asking me questions.”

“Do you do, like… like, homeschooling?”

“I train.”

“You dropped out of high school?”

“I never went to high school, so I did not drop out, so there!” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “NOW STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS. I will not answer them! You are trying to get me to reveal secrets of my clan and it WILL NOT WORK.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear!” He insisted. “… Man, you should go to school. I feel like you’d be good at sports--”

A distant clamber of footsteps and a horrid, wrenching cry disrupted their strained conversation.

“RAPH!”

“Dad!” Casey’s companion immediately answered in kind, his head jerking slightly towards the noise. He had sounded so eerily calm up until now. “WE’RE HERE! W-we’re okay--!”

“Oh my god they’re alive--!”

“Raph--!”

“We’re coming, holy shit, it’s okay--”

“We’re gonna get you outta there, big guy, no problem, just hang on for us--!”

Everything moved really fast after that. Casey was sure they were saying other things, all speaking over each other and crying, clambering over each other and clustered about at the very edge of the elevator to peer down at them-- reassuring him, over and over and over,

‘It’ll be okay, we’ll get you out, we’ll save you, you’re okay, we’re here now, you’ll be okay.’

For some reason, everything else was kind of far off and muddy, but those things she could still hear. They sort of echoed, bounced around in her head.

And then a hand was thrust out in front of her.

She jerked back.

“Grab my hand,” the oldest of the group pressed, and it took her a second to hear him properly, but she could if she focused. “I’ll pull you out.”

Casey bristled, pulling back slightly.

He was the only one not wearing the Hamato symbol-- but she knew he was one.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, and again, her hands instinctively moved towards her belt with no weapon in it, as if she had somehow forgotten her early discovery.

“I do not wish to fight you,” The Hamato insisted, his voice softening a bit, gentle and reassuring. Almost paternal in a way that Casey resented. “I just need to get you out. Please.”

“Raph ain’t tryna… complain or nothin’, but do you think you could maybe hurry up so I could get outta here, too? ‘Cause unless you wanna take a turn holdin’ this you really gotta go first--”

Casey frowned.

She bit her lip.

She looked between the lot of them.

She could still refuse.

She could still attack. Even without a weapon. She could still do damage-- she might even be able to overwhelm the turtle one long enough that he might lose his grip.

She took the Hamato’s hand. It was warm in hers and surprisingly soft, despite the calluses and blisters. He squeezed her tight and firm, his fingers laced together with her own, and with one mighty heave, he yanked her up and out of the elevator shaft.

And then she was out of the elevator shaft.

And she was all by herself. Surrounded by the enemy.

There was no Foot Clan here with her. She didn’t have a little button she could press to call them. She had no weapon. It was just her and six enemies.

Every single one of them had their backs on her, all hunched over the space she had just crawled from, focused on getting Raphael out from under the shattered fragments of the elevator car. No one was paying any attention to her.

No one was looking at her.

They had all turned their backs.

For just a second, her breath was a stone in her throat.

And she turned and she ran.

---

Casey sucked in a long, steady breath. And she slowly let it back out. She adjusted her stance, allowed herself half a second to readjust her footing to something slightly more comfortable-- and then mentally scolded herself for doing so.

Focus.

Her mother said that the key to success was discipline and repetition. That practice would bring her to where she needed to go. She should have basics like this down by now, her mother had said. “You should be able to do this by now. I don’t know how to help with that.”

Her knuckles hurt, and her body was tired, but she wasn’t weak. And she didn’t give up, either.

100 reps down. 100 more. And then maybe she’d get this right. And if she didn’t-- 100 after that.

She would keep going until she got it right.

---

The walk home felt long.

Her body was, admittedly, feeling quite wrung-out and sore at this point, and it resented her for dragging it through the streets of New York, but Casey was quite good at tuning out its protests. No one bothered her, as they rarely did-- anyone who looked at her for too long typically thought better of it as soon as she met their eyes. She knew how to convince people to think twice before they approached her.

She was in no mood for pests on the streets.

Coward, she thought bitterly to herself. They were vulnerable, and you ran. Instead of attacking you fled. You could have at least tried. You might have been able to take one or two down, if you actually tried…

She was certain she would have lost the fight. But at least she would have fought.

Even managing to injure one of the Hamatos would have been more valuable than her return to the Clan. She hadn’t been surprised to find the rest of the mall devoid of life, the remaining members of her party having long fled the scene. She knew that that was what they would do. That was the correct thing to do.

She was surprised by how it stung. She thought that she knew better than that by now.

Just a day full of disappointment, then…

Though she was tempted to make a beeline back to their basecamp, she knew better, and she took the long way to ensure she wasn’t being followed by anyone. It was late by the time she arrived.

Brute had turned to look at her and gasped loudly, and though Lieutenant had a bit more self-control, she noted the way his eyebrows shot up.

“You’re back!” Brute cried in celebration, immediately moving to her side, clapping her hard on the back. Casey braced herself well enough that she didn’t stumble, though she would admit that it didn’t exactly feel good. “We thought for sure you got squished!--”

“Excellent work, Recruit,” Lieutenant observed, a bit calmer as he approached, as he often was. “We’re glad you made it back in one piece.”

“My apologies, Senseis--” Casey bit out, gritting her teeth and throwing her head down into a deep bow. “I failed to eliminate any of the Hamato Clan members!!! FORGIVE ME!!!”

The two stayed quiet for a moment, and Casey swore she could hear them exchanging looks.

“Yes, well, there’s always next time.” Lieutenant assured, patting her on the head a few times. “We’re just glad you weren’t crushed in an elevator. It is so difficult to find decent ninja trainees these days… So, well done!”

“Yeah. Go hit the showers,” Brute encouraged, offering a thumbs up and a grin.

And that was about the extent of the conversation.

Casey felt oddly numb. But she wasn’t sure why. Or what she expected.

This was praise.

She should be pleased. So she was having a hard time figuring out… why she wasn’t.

Despite this cloudiness, her head still shot up before Baron Draxum even spoke a word to her, turning sharply to meet his eyes. He didn’t flinch, and neither did she.

“I’m relieved to see you made it back to us,” he remarked, cool and thoughtful, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Losing you would have been quite the blow to our organization. It’s a shame that more effort wasn’t put in to retrieve you…”

Casey narrowed her eyes, her hackles raising.

“My senseis put the well-being of the mission first,” she spat in response, wrinkling up her nose.

“Yes, I suppose so… It’s just difficult to watch them not place more value into such a clear asset. It’s quite obvious to me that your experience and talent is… under-utilized here. You have a great deal of potential that doesn’t seem to be being taken advantage of…”

Casey didn’t quite untense, her jaw still held tight beneath her lips. And she frowned.

“...You think I have potential?”

---

Leo has no idea why he did this. Looking back at it later, he thought, what the fuck were you thinking? Not the time or place, moron. They had finally gotten back home, gotten Raph all patched up, and had been assured by him about eight thousand times that he was okay. It was only after eight-thousand-and-one, “no, really, Dad, I’m fine’s,” and a promise from everyone in the room to keep an eye on him while he was gone that their father relented just enough to escort April back to her own apartment, with the reassurance of “I’ll be right back.” Everyone was still pretty spooked, because duh, no shit, and he really should have just kept his mouth shut. That was obvious now.

Maybe he was just still shaken up over the whole evening. His brain wasn’t working right, or whatever. He’s not really sure. It just… it just happened. He just said things.

“How come you didn’t listen to me?”

The words had left his mouth before he had even processed them. Raph paused, glancing over at his brother, all four of them curled up together on the living room couch, and the unsteady peace they had been resting in just a second ago was suddenly gone.

“What?”

“Before, at the mall,” Leo continued, even though what he meant to say was ‘nothing, nevermind.’ “I told you I had a plan, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

He could feel his brother stiffen next to him. There was a beat of silence, and then Raph heaved out a big, heavy sigh.

“There was-- there was a lot goin’ on, Leo. We can’t always do your plans--”

“But you didn’t even listen to it,” Leo pressed. “You wouldn’t even let me tell you what I was thinking.”

“Leo--”

“I had a plan,” he insisted, his mouth working all on its own. “If we had-- if we had had a plan instead of just rushing in, maybe things would have-- I dunno, have gone better?”

“It’s not--”

“If we had a plan maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. You could have-- you could have gotten for-real hurt, Raph!”

“Leo, st-”

“I don’t understand why you don’t trust me enough to at least list--”

“Trust you?” Raph snapped, whipping around to glare at his younger brother. Up until now, his voice had been strained, but now it was sharp and jagged, and he absolutely bristled. Leo found himself shrinking under his gaze. “Leo, how the hell are you gonna look at me and ask me to trust you right now?! The last time I trusted you, you almost died! You tried to freakin’ kill yourself! And you expect me to trust you!?”

Leo blinked in surprise. For a moment, he floundered, his mouth gaping slightly.

“Look, that was different! And I was the only one with a plan--”

“That doesn’t mean it was okay!” Raph cried.

“I--I mean. That plan went wrong, but I thought I was gonna be--”

“No you didn’t!” Raph bristled. “You didn’t think you were gonna be okay and you know it! You knew it was risky the entire time, so don’t try and tell Raph otherwise! I might’a been dumb enough to go along with it the first time, but I’m not dumb enough to believe that now!!! So just drop it, okay?! I’m not talkin’ about this with you anymore!”

Leo opened his mouth. And then he closed it again.

‘Cause he didn’t really… know what else to say.

“Alright,” he finally said, looking down at his feet. Raph looked like maybe he still had more, but he bit his tongue, casting a long look at Leo before he finally tore himself away and stalked off. Mikey looked between the two groups, hesitating a moment, before he followed after their eldest brother with a weak ‘wait up.’

And for a moment there, it was just Donnie and him, sitting together in the awkward silence. Eventually, Leo found it in himself to speak again, laughing awkwardly, a bit bitterly, and hunching his shoulders.

“What the hell was that? Is he-- is he seriously not even gonna listen to me anymore?”

“Can you actually blame him?” Donnie said dryly, raising a brow, and Leo gawked.

“What do you mean can you blame him!? I have good ideas--”

“So?” Donnie scoffed, shrugging a bit. “It doesn’t matter if you have good ideas if they lead to you dying.”

Leo groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “Look, I didn’t try to kill myself--”

“You kind of did,” Donnie cut off. “I mean. I understand that wasn’t your base intention, but we’re not stupid, Leo. You very obviously oversold your ability to get back down safely. You could barely stand after the Battle Nexus, and you thought you were going to be able to aim and land in a little pool of water? Not to mention that at that height, you would have been seriously injured even if the plan was entirely successful. We only went along with it because you were deceptive in what it entailed. And you could have died. Quite easily. And I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t know that,” he accused, though his tone was even and eerily calm, narrowing his eyes at the other.

Leo felt this little shiver run up his spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Suddenly, his feet were very interesting.

“I didn’t-- I didn’t think I would die--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Donnie dismissed. “It wasn’t okay. And just because you didn’t think you would die from this crazy, risky, self-sacrifice-y plan doesn’t mean you won’t. Or that you won’t in the next one, or the next one. So look. We’re not playing that game,” he said, his voice cold. “We’re not doing that again. So no. We don’t trust you. Obviously, we don’t trust you. You’re our brother, and we love you dearly. And that’s why we can’t trust you.”

Oh. Ow. Why the fuck did that hurt so bad? Leo’s stomach flip-flopped, and for a second, he bristled in retaliation, giving a soft little scoff.

“As if any of the rest of you wouldn’t try to pull off the same thing if you had the chance! Don’t stand there and pretend like I’m the only one in the family for a penchant for dramatics! You jumped on Angie before, too!” He hissed, throwing up his hands. “You guys would all try to take the bullet, too!”

Donnie shrugged.

“Yeah. Maybe. But I wouldn’t trick the rest of you into setting it up.”

Leo grit his teeth.

“We all trusted you. And we went along with your plan,” Donnie continued, his voice hard. “We helped you. And you almost died. You could have died,” he pressed. “You’re important to us, Leo. How do you think the rest of us would have felt?”

Donnie’s brows furrowed.

“How do you think I would have felt? Or Raph?” He challenged. “How do you think Angie would have felt? Good Galileo, how do you think Angie feels right now?”

Leo kept quiet, considering this for a second, rolling the thought around in his head. And he didn’t like it.

He was suddenly getting the feeling that he had fucked up really bad over a month and a half ago, and it was just now sinking in.

“Look, I know you want to protect us,” Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We get it. Raph gets it. Of course Raph gets it, have you ever met the guy? He’s basically the world’s number one advocate for any and all ‘protect my brothers’ campaigns,” Donnie scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean that you can just throw yourself around as an expendable variable. If he hadn’t caught you, you know how much that would kill him.”

Leo groaned softly, burying his face in his hands. “Aw, man…” He muttered. “Maybe I do need a therapist…”

---

“Cut it out,” Raph said, hooking out a hand to grab Leo’s ankle as he ran past him, promptly sending his younger brother stumbling down to the ground. Leo squeaked in surprise as he fell, turning to huff and give his brother an annoyed glare.

“Why?!”

“‘Cause I said,” Raph replied easily, a teeny little grin growing on his face. “And I’m in charge.”

And it was true.

I mean, really, he had been ‘in charge’ lots of times in the past, frequently tasked with ensuring his little brothers didn’t wander off or do anything dumb. But he hadn’t ever, in all his memories, been in charge like this. Never all by himself.

He wasn’t the only one excited, he knew. All three of his brothers were nearly bouncing off the walls with joy at the prospect of being left home alone for the first time. Finally! At long last! The day every pre-teen waited for… they had the house all to themselves for the whole evening with no supervision. No babysitter or neighbor watching them for the night while their Dad was out… Just him and his brothers with a whole empty house to themselves. They could do whatever they wanted, and they had every intention of taking full advantage of the situation, like a reasonable child might.

“That’s not a good reason!” Leo protested with a scoff.

“Well, the other reason is you’re startin’ to piss Donnie off,” he hummed, releasing his grip on the other’s leg, allowing him to squirm away. Donnie was happy for the reprieve of being chased by his twin, climbing over Raph and hopping up onto the couch behind him, grabbing the nearest blanket to wrap around himself like a shield and sulk. Leo sighed loudly, rolling his eyes, clearly displeased with the end of his game, but he didn’t protest either, sitting himself back up.

“I got snacks!” Mikey announced proudly as he came bounding down the basement stairs, his arms filled with just about every form of junk food that they had in the house, and even some that Raph hadn’t even known that they had in the house. He dumped the loot down on the coffee table, and the brothers all immediately dug in, each grabbing at chips, Capri Suns, and ice cream containers and laying their claim.

“What are we gonna watch?” Mikey asked excitedly, curling up on the couch, bouncing up and down in place.

“Whatever we want,” Raph replied smugly from his own placing on the floor, continuing to scroll through the channels, remote in hand. “We just gotta find somethin’ that looks--”

“OH!” Leo gasped from the couch, jumping slightly and pointing at the TV. “Let’s watch the new Batman movie!!! Look! It’s barely even started!!!”

Mikey hesitated for a second, his brows knitting. “But Dad said we’re not allowed to watch that,” he fret.

“Which is exactly why we should!” Leo had countered. “We’re home alone. We can watch whatever we want. Besides, Batman is cool!”

“Do you think we’d get along with him if we met him?” Mikey questioned with a thoughtful sigh.

“Maybe,” Donnie said, shrugging a bit.

Raph furrowed his brows just a bit as he deliberated. Hm. Well. Leo did make a pretty compelling argument. They were home alone. Therefore, they could do whatever they wanted! Besides, he wasn’t afraid of a dumb movie, especially not a superhero movie.

“Alright. Batman it is!” He agreed, clicking definitively on the remote to select the channel before tossing it aside.

And goddamn, did he feel cool.

That lasted for maybe about forty minutes.

And the movie was cool! I mean. At first. But then evening had turned into night, and it had gotten dark outside. Even worse-- it had begun to rain. It rained hard, too, and Raph heard thunder rumble off in the distance, shaking the house ever so slightly. And the further into the plot of the movie they got, the more Raph began to understand why it was rated “R.”

They watched the whole thing, with all four of them frozen in place the whole time. It wasn’t until the credits rolled that Raph finally swallowed, turning his head slightly to glance at his younger brothers.

He was almost relieved to see that they were about as terrified as him. It wasn’t a scary movie, per se, there were no jump scares, it was just…

That was really messed up, what the Joker did to those people!!! Okay!?

Mikey was absolutely clinging to Leo for dear life, his eyes lined with tears, and Donnie had all but disappeared under his blanket, peering out cautiously from within. Even Leo looked shaken, even as he swallowed, forcing a very shaky, half-hearted laugh.

“Whoa. That was… cool,” he forced, even though he looked sort of like he was going to throw up. “Right, guys--?”

Thunder cracked outside and all four of them jumped. Mikey straight up shrieked, burying his face against Leo’s shoulder, and Raph had half a mind to leap up and throw himself into a pile with his brothers and hide there.

But he steeled himself, just barely catching his nerves before they launched him into a panic, his hands curling into determined fists.

He was in charge. Remember?

“It’s-- it’s just the storm, guys. It’s alright,” he tried to soothe, fighting to keep his voice steady. “It’s fine--!”

“THEY BURNED A GUY’S FACE OFF!” Mikey wailed tearfully in response, and Raph winced.

“Mikey, chill! It’s just a movie!” Leo insisted, a nervous grin on his face. “I mean. N-none of it’s, like, real, or anything!”

“What if it was?!” Mikey squeaked. “What if it’s based on a true story or something!? Or what if someone else watches it and it inspires them to break into people’s houses and put bombs in their chests!? And what if they come here and cut us open and put bombs in our chests!?”

“That’s… Highly improbable,” Donnie bit out, and Mikey whimpered.

“But it could happen!!!”

Raph grit his teeth, inhaling deeply, and then slowly letting the breath back out.

“It’s gonna be fine, Mikey. Leo’s right. It was just a movie. You don’t gotta be scared,” he insisted. He could tell his brothers weren’t quite convinced. He scooped up the TV remote again, switching the television over the cartoons. It was just re-runs of something they had seen before, but what did it matter? “Here. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going!?” Mikey squealed.

“Raph’ll go double-check to make sure no one can get in,” he said. “So you guys know for sure we’re safe. Alright? I’ll be right back.”

Mikey whimpered, but none of them had protested, watching with wide eyes as he approached the stairs. And if Raph was being totally honest with himself…? He really didn’t wanna go up there.

‘Specially not by himself.

But he had little brothers to protect. A part of him told him that they weren’t in any danger, but another bit said what if they were?! What if Mikey was right and someone came and broke into the house or something!?

He was in charge. Dad left him in charge. And he had to make sure that they were all safe and could handle anything that came their way.

So that meant he had to go double-check.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, he made his way up the stairs.

Somehow, the house seemed darker than usual, even though it was just the same as it always was. Rushing slightly, Raph hurriedly made his way to the front door to check it. And, just as he had expected, it was locked. Just like it was supposed to be. The back door was locked, too, and Raph sighed softly in relief.

He checked all the windows, all the way up to the attic on the fourth floor. He checked every single room to make sure there was no one hiding inside, either. He grabbed blankets from each of their beds, as well as one of his stuffed teddy bears, and did a final sweep on his way back down to the Lair.

“It’s okay!” He assured as he made his way back down the stairs, re-joining his younger brothers. “I checked everything, and there’s no way anybody could get in!”

“Are you sure!?” Mikey questioned, his eyes wide. “What if someone tries to break in or something?”

“I’m sure,” Raph assured firmly. “Raph checked all the locks. And the windows! And look. I got extra blankets and stuff, too,” he added, tossing the covers over the couch and over top of his brothers. “Here. You guys scoot over, and we can play Mario Kart until Dad gets home,” he said, glancing down at his siblings with a grin. “And once he’s here, no one would be dumb enough to mess with us anyway! So don’t worry.”

---

For the thousandth time in this day alone, Yoshi wondered if it would be wiser to pull his children out of school, out of all their various sports and extracurriculars, and keep them home instead, with him, where it was safe. Or at least safer. Where he could keep his eyes on them and know that, if nothing else, he could act should anything happen. They would have more time for training, too, he sometimes noted, but that thought alone made every nerve in his body twist in on itself.

How could he do that to them? The thought of keeping them here, away from school and from friends and from hobbies, and training instead made him feel sick to his stomach. The idea of training alone made him sick. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his eldest child falling away from him.

He had tried at least a dozen times now to say, “no, no more of this, I won’t allow you to be involved any longer,” and every time his (darling, wonderful, beloved) bullheaded children resolutely denied him and insisted that they would find a way to be involved whether he liked it or not. And while he hemmed and hawed over somehow taking more drastic measures to keep them safe, over how he could possibly achieve this and if it was possible to do so without them resenting him for the rest of their lives, time marched on with the same degree of stubbornness.

It was impossible not to feel like he was running out of time.

The apartment was too quiet. He resented himself for being in the safety of it when his children were not, even if they left of their own volition.

Yoshi sighed deeply, and found himself sinking down into his reclining chair before he even knew he was doing it. Internally, he scolded himself. There were things that needed to be done; housework that needed doing, phone calls that needed to be placed, and children out in the world that he had to keep track of, even if they weren’t home at the moment… (All the more reason to stay on his toes…) but honestly, he was just…

Tired.

It had been some time since he had been able to sleep at night, and he was beginning to think that melatonin was a scam or something. How could he sleep? How was he meant to sleep at night with everything looming over him, dripping wetly down his spine, burning and hot and threatening…? When the safety of both the world and his family hung in the balance, and each were equally as precious…? He grumbled softly to himself, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling, glowering at it as though it were personally responsible for the current state of his world.

He had only intended to sit for a while. Just to take a moment to rest, to get a chance to breathe before he got up again and continued with all the things he still had to be on top of…

But he must have fallen asleep.

Because the next thought he had was,

Oh. This hasn’t been familiar for a while.

Not just the place-- he hadn’t been here in many, many years. This long, endless expanse of inky darkness, somehow warm and cozy despite the utter, infinite darkness of it all. He could hear whispers off in the distance, just barely tickling up against the edges of his brain. He hadn’t been in this place in a long time.

But it was also him. Looking down at his own hands, outlined in this soft white light, he noted the differing shape to him. How the wrinkles were gone from his knuckles, and each digit instead extended out smooth and slender, calloused but confident, and yet perfectly manicured.

He didn’t have to look to know that the rest of him was this way, too.

It almost felt odd to be back in the body he had inhabited in his twenties; to look like Lou Jitsu the Actor again, to feel like him. Back before the mutation. Back before the Nexus-- to feel like a young man with a career and dreams and ambitions, to be that person once more who had broken away from their family and escaped, and who held onto all the hurt and guilt of it, but who kept moving anyway. That person that he used to be, but couldn’t be anymore.

It almost felt odd. But somehow, it didn’t-- not quite. He noted it, was aware of it, and thought to himself, hm. This is certainly interesting… But really, it didn’t feel all that strange to him. It felt completely natural.

He felt so calm. He was sitting here, surrounded by nothing but darkness and his own aura, a halo of snow white silhouetting him. His body was different from what it had been a few moments ago, but he felt completely at peace. That almost felt odd, too, but still didn’t quite. It didn’t bother him that his body was different now. If anything, it was a comfort.

He wondered for a second why in the world he was here again, after so much time, when a voice rang out from behind him.

“Welcome back, Yoshi.”

Blinking in surprise, Yoshi turned to face the other occupant of his dream.

[ next ]

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 8 months

Text

Stars Around My Scars: Part I

Summary: Y/N and Harry meet by chance on the street and Harry just so happens to be Y/N's longtime crush. Sparks fly between the two but there's just one problem... Harry has a girlfriend. Featuring our favourite 1D boys and soft Harry <3

Word Count: >1k (super short to set up the story) Warnings: none

Based off this ask

"Liam you forgot the candles!”

“They weren’t on the list Y/N.”

“But it’s a PARTY, of course we need candles?!” Y/N rolls her eyes at her roommate who sits unbothered on the couch, stuck in the latest round of whatever new game he had bought.

“They. Weren’t. On. The. List.”

“Ok. Fine.” Y/N sucks in a deep breath before grabbing her keys. “I’ll go get them. You’re lucky we still have time before the party tomorrow.”

Liam groans in response and Y/N rolls her eyes again before heading to the store. Party planning is not for the weak. She isn’t quite sure why she’s taken on such a large responsibility especially because it’s Niall’s 30th so she can’t mess it up. But he’s one of her best friends so obviously she had to throw him a party. And then her idea of a small gathering spiralled out of control and now it’s a surprise party with over 100 guests. It’s not like Liam and Louis have been much help because well… Liam would rather be doing anything else than helping her plan the decor and Louis can’t keep a secret to save his life so he doesn’t even know about the party. Y/N has over a million things to prepare before tomorrow and getting these candles was definitely not on her to do list for the day.

She rushes out of her car and into the party store, grabbing the first packet she sees, pays for them and rushes back out to her car. However in her rush, (and due to the fact that she was looking at her phone) she slams into someone. Hard. Said someone grunts softly at the impact before reaching out a hand to steady her.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, I didn’t mean to- holy shit.”

“No worries love. You alright?” The man in front of her smiles, making sure she’s regained her footing before gently letting go of her.

“Oh I’m fine… it’s just. Well. You’re Harry Styles.” Y/N can hardly believe her eyes. Her first thought is that his eyes are even greener in person. Her second thought is that he’s even more attractive in person and that’s saying something because he was pretty damn good looking in his pictures. And in the posters Y/N used to have (still has) on her wall.

“That would be me. You look really familiar love. Have we met?” His voice is low and slightly raspy and it sends a flurry of butterflies to Y/N’s core.

“Um well no. But I’m Liam’s roommate so maybe you might have seen a picture of me on his instagram or something? It’s really lovely to meet you. You’re… taller than I imagined.” Y/N wants to die. It’s like she’s forgotten how words work all of a sudden because her childhood crush is standing right in front of her and he’s smiling at her like that and Y/N doesn’t really remember how to breathe either.

“You’ve imagined?” He sends a smirk her way and Y/N’s knees almost give out.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She blushes and Harry chuckles at how flustered she is.

“Well anyway, it’s nice to properly meet you… I’m so sorry love, I don’t remember your name.” He winces as if it’s something he should have committed to memory.

“Oh. It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N! That’s right. Pretty name.” He tests it on his tongue and she shivers slightly. Y/N decides she only wants Harry to say her name from now on. It certainly sounds pretty coming off his lips.

“The boys mentioned you were living in LA? What brings you to London? Just visiting or…?”

“I’ve moved back actually. I bought a new place and my uh girlfriend and I just moved in a few days ago.” He runs a hand through his hair and Y/N can’t place the slightly sheepish expression on his face. Girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend. He’s Harry fucking Styles. She’s probably a model, Y/N thinks to herself. Blonde, skinny, legs for days.

“Oh that’s… wow. I’m sure the guys will be thrilled to catch up with you. I’ll have to let them know I saw you.” Y/N offers him a weak smile. She isn’t exactly sure what she was hoping for. For him to fall in love with her on the street and whisk her off to his apartment to have his way with her? Actually that’s exactly what she was hoping for.

“I’m throwing Niall a surprise birthday party.” She blurts out, filling the silence.

“Oh really? It’s his 30th yeah?”

“Yeah it is. You should come. If you like. No pressure. You could bring your girlfriend?”

“Sure we’d love to. It’ll be nice to see the guys again.” Harry perks up at the invitation.

“I’ll get your number off Liam and text you the details if that’s ok?”

“Nah, I’ll give it to you now. I’ll surprise all of them by showing up.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He rattles off his number and Y/N quickly enters it into her phone before sending him a text so he has her number too. They say their goodbyes and Y/N finally makes it to her car, sitting in silence in slight disbelief as to what just happened. She’s staring, slightly dazed out of the window when her phone buzzes.

(1:05pm) Harry: Send me the details! Lovely to meet you :)

Harry Styles is texting her. 15 year old Y/N would have passed out by now and current Y/N isn’t really sure she’s got function in her limbs.

A/N: This is something just to tide you guys over until I can get part 2 of obsession out!! My laptop died on me so it's taking me a bit longer I'm afraid. BUT I adore you all for loving that series so much, and I hope you enjoy the start of this 😘

If I haven't added you to my tag list because I've missed your message or forgotten, please message me or comment! Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated xo

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

i love musician eren and his influencer wife !!!!! we need more content abt eren being jealous 😜

you know what? This is too cute because spoiler alert: Mr. Jaeger is very jealous when it comes to miss (y/n). And not in a possessive, toxic way but in the most adorable, bratty way.

imagine doing a photo shoot or starring in the music video of another artist, or just in general and someone having their hands on you for any given reason…he would not be happy! I mean, a brown ass man, full blown pouting about the fact that someone held you or put a kiss on your cheek. You come home and he’s on the couch, arms folded across his chest with lip stuck out like a child. He asks you how your day went and you can tell something’s wrong but he’s trying to be cool about it! “You looked pretty today.” Or “..you looked real good in that video.” All the while, he won’t even look you in the eye. It’s so sad, it’s almost cute! So you start scrolling through other pictures and you happen to land on one with another artist hugging you. And finally, you realize what’s wrong. “Oh my gosh, baby. You’re jealoussss, that’s so cute!” Of course he denies it though and dismisses you! Waving you away when you try to kiss him and acting all bratty. “I’m not jealous, I just don’t understand why he’s all on you like that. Fuck is his problem?” He knows he can’t stop you from your grind, hell, it’s what he finds most attractive about you so he just tries to play it off. But God forbid, he scrolls the comment section and sees ball players and other rappers trying to spit game under your newest post in a bikini or some skimpy dress where you’re twerking and oh my gosh, all hell is about to break loose. “Can your man fight?” And he’s quick to respond. “Yeah and I shoot too. Don’t die behind that one.” Just out of control.

or when you decide to come home after a long day and he’s been in the house, missing you, watching your story and seeing other men in the mentions or trying to get near you..he most certainly likes to take his frustrations out. You don’t notice until things get more intense but that sex hits a little differently when he’s mad. The two of you start making out and he puts his hand around your throat, sucking on your tongue, kissing on your neck and nipples ..just trying to drive you crazy. Trying to rip you up out your clothes, forcing your legs open; he’s doing everything that you love. Ask him what’s gotten into him and he answers so aggressively. “I missed you..looking so fucking good today.” Angry about the fact that someone else was all up on his baby (y/n). So he has a little something to prove. And he doesn’t slow up. He eats you out for nearly an hour as revenge for being away from him. Barely even speaks but you hear him moaning against your mound, constantly sucking on your clit and making you come. “Babeeee, I can’t take it.” You can beg all you want but this is all his and he’ll eat until he’s satisfied. Pinning your legs back and fucking like he’s trying to have you out of commission for a few days. Tearing your shit UP. His hand on the headboard, standing up in it while he’s pounding you. Giving you the greatest dick ever. “Why are you fucking me like thissss?” Whining while you try to push at his abs but he just slaps your hands away and hisses at you. “It’s mine so I’ll do what I want..this my pussy, right? Tell me..” And he knows the answer but he needs the validation..to know that no one could ever take his place!

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lunarmoves · 2 months

Text

through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later.

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul.

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep.

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view.

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on.

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack.

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain.

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?”

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!”

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!”

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself.

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?”

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!”

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely.

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow.

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’

“Wonderful!”

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice.

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!”

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.”

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think.

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing.

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!”

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way.

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!”

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition.

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile.

Everything is suddenly—quiet.

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!”

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope.

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean.

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!”

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right?

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!”

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse.

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?”

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon.

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!”

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role.

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

There is the smallest, smallest moment, where something in your stomach drops down to your feet. Your eyebrows raise and you turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is only the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You blink confusedly at the normalcy of it all, then turn back around to ask Sun what the hell he’s talking about.

Only you’re not looking at Sun. You’re looking at Moon. Ohhh.

You were duped, like a fool.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why.

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes.

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice.

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on.

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home.

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last.

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.”

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.”

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes.

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t.

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out.

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you.

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting.

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily.

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun.

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t.

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later.

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.”

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!”

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen:

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop.

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips.

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice.

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?”

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun.

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it.

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.”

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?”

“Can you say my name for me?”

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.”

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.”

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.”

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?”

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!”

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume.

…It’s very quiet.

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard.

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!”

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better.

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement.

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits.

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?”

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?”

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature.

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it.

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word.

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!”

“Right, right…”

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it.

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon.

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver.

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?”

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!”

“What’s the deal with Moon?”

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.”

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!”

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.”

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly.

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well.

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time.

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

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