#my ass went to fuckin... ao3 bro...........

[daddyn3xus]

Everytime I'm like silly egg guy I'd definitely would fuck him crazy style BUT THEN WHEN THEY PUT SOME DETAIL IN HIS FACE I JUST- I'm like a fuckin dog panting and howling, bc he should not look that fucking good (especially with his little banana suit, like???)

Im sorry One Punch Man is my bread and butter and someone finally gets it, I just had to rant a little bit there lmao

-🌻

no you're exactly right. Him getting serious made me straight up blush a few times, I'm not gonna lie. I could take him (not in a fight)

[bigasswritingmagnet]

The Jagerfrät, Part 2: Lunch and Learn

Modern day AU Agatha goes to Mechanicsburg University and discovers another part of her family legacy: The Jägerfrat. After rescuing/being discovered by three of the fraternity members, they buy her lunch, and Dimo gives her an impromptu history lesson.

Chapter 1 | AO3 Link

It was technically Theta Phi Theta Fraternity, but they were known to one and all as the Jägerfrat. It was the oldest fraternity in the country, and probably the most notorious. They were popular on Mechanicsburg University grounds, and absolutely nowhere else. On their own, they were a troublemaking rabble, known for drinking bars dry, picking fights, and tipping poorly.

But when a Heterodyne arrived…

Agatha had heard the stories. They’d burned a bar down. They’d terrorized every university within driving distance with “pranks” that usually resulted in real bodily harm and property damage in the thousands - minimum. They were the reason the Galați Goats no longer had a live animal mascot.

Every Heterodyne who had ever gone to Mechanicsburg University (which was all of them) had been a member.

Except for the last two.

“I mean, I wasn’t there, but we’re big on like, oral history and shit, y’know, so I know how it went down. It was like...everybody can’t like everybody, but the dudes didn’t even want to know us, y’know? We were embarrassing to them.”

Dimo had won the most emotionally charged game of rock-paper scissors Agatha had ever seen, and therefore was the one who got to ride with Agatha and give directions to a place that served ‘the most dope-ass sandwiches you ever ate in your life, no joke’. He sat slouched in the seat with his knees pressed against the dashboard, twirling his baseball cap on his finger. With each revolution, the enamel snarling demon face pinned to the brim caught the sunlight in a brief flash of gold.

“They made everybody tone it way, wayyy down. No more ragers, no more raids, no more anything . And the frat was not happy about it—I heard one guy straight up tried to knife them.”

“ What?”

“Yeah! Got expelled and everything, it was wild. The house heads burned his name off the wall with a fuckin’ blowtorch.”

Agatha knew why Uncle Barry had never told her stories about things he and his brother had done, but...maybe he could have squeezed in a few? Dropped casual hints? Something to prepare her for the inevitable reveal, the day she would have to face her legacy.

“If everyone was so unhappy about it, why did they do it?”

Dimo looked blank.

“Do what?”

“My father and Uncle Barry didn’t even join the fraternity; what authority did they have to tell the Jägers how to run it?”

“They were the Heterodynes,” Dimo said.

“But they weren’t in the fraternity.”

“But they were the Heterodynes,” Dimo said again. Suddenly he grinned and sat up, jamming his hat back on his head. “Turn here! This is it!”

“ This is the place?” Agatha exclaimed. Despite her trepidation, she obeyed the instruction and pulled into the parking lot of what she had assumed was an abandoned shack left over from a horror movie set.

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting on a half-rotten picnic table and staring down, wide eyed, at the perfectly pressed ham and cheese panini she had just tentatively bitten into.

“This is...the best thing I have ever tasted in my life,” she marveled.

“Told you, bro!” Maxim said. Beside him, Oggie managed to shove half a triple-decker club sandwich into his mouth in one bite.

“The guy who runs it used to be in the frat, sorta, so we get free sodas,” Dimo said.

“Also his granddaughter is smokin’ hot and totally into me,” Maxim said, preening.

“She is so not,” Oggie said.

“How the fuck would you know?” Maxim demanded.

“Cause you flirted with her and she hit you with a side of meat.”

“That was an accident, and she gave me her number after,” Maxim said, glaring.

“How can you sorta be in a fraternity?” Agatha asked, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“You hang around the house and help out with the parties, but you don’t do any of the pledging or drink the Jägerdraught.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed.

“Drink the what?”

The three boys glanced at each other, and Agatha sighed.

“I know very little about what my family used to do,” she said. “Outside of rumor and what I got off of the internet, I know almost nothing. Uncle Barry never liked to talk about it. He and my father worked hard to distance themselves from all of it, and he tried to do the same for--to me. You said they were embarrassed about it, I'm starting to think they were ashamed of it."

“Are you?” Dimo asked.

The table went quiet. The three Jägers were staring at her with startlingly solemn expressions. They didn’t know it, but it was a question that Agatha had been considering for a while now. Even not counting the college shenanigans, her family had been responsible for shady business deals, violent corporate take overs, and more tax fraud than you could shake a stick at.

But when she’d visited Mechanicsburg University last spring, she’d found herself drawn to it in a way she couldn’t quite name.

“I still have to go sign in and get my dorm keys,” she said, “but I’d like to see the fraternity house when I’m done.”

Their eyes lit up, and there was as much relief as excitement, but before a word could be said, a shadow fell over the table.

“ Where the hell have you idiots been?”

The girl standing over them was a few years older than Agatha. She had flaxen-blonde hair that was almost white, and furious brown eyes that bored into each young man in turn. Agatha could see the sunburn on her cheeks, despite the large sunhat on her head. Which—Agatha almost couldn’t believe her eyes—had a Jäger symbol pinned to the purple ribbon on the top.

“Jenka!” Maxim cried, winningly. Oggie let out an oof as a shaggy brown head the size of a toddler shoved itself over his shoulder, black eyes fixed on Oggie’s sandwich.

“Ayy, Füst, my man!” Oggie said with delight, and pulled out a slice of chicken for the dog.

“Why are none of you assholes answering your phones, where the fuck is my car, and who the hell is this?”

The three boys grinned broadly.

“This,” Dimo said, and Oggie and Maxim drummed their hands on the table in a drum roll. “Is Agatha. Heterodyne.”

“Tadaaaa!”

[wispstalk]

the man himself... martin septim

First impression - did not give a fuck. got him to cloud ruler temple and then went skipping off to collect plants or whatever

Impression now - my #1 little projection dolly. you know what finally charmed me? he's always giving you books. like bro I am not going to read this, but thank you. (and there's a little insight into where Tanis's character came from)

Favorite moment - I'm probably starting to sound like a broken record about this but it's the line "If you came to me for help, you're more of a fool than you look." the HoK shows up and he immediately goes "fuckin idiot." hilarious

Idea for a story - well. i certainly had one

Unpopular opinion - gay. if we're going by the number of ao3 results for m/f vs m/m. Favorite headcanon - i have a tie and it's all backstory i invented. I think he was a real pain in the ass at the mages' guild. a little know-it-all savant who was constantly putting annoying questions to the guildmasters but talented enough to get away with it. the other one is, in a scene where he talks about his friends' failed attempts to insinuate themselves into other daedric cults, he mentions "Malacath's shrine wasn't worth thinking about." it's vague enough that one could interpret this as being something horrible and scary but the truth is that he and his friends tried to seem like hardened badasses in front of the various Orc worshippers and made asses of themselves. immediately clocked as nerds.

[blnk338]

COD HEADCANONS 2

Here's the link to the first b/c y'all loved it sm ty <3

Go read my Ghost x Reader on AO3 | Reap What You Sow

Relationship hcs!!!

Gaz:

Undiagnosed dyslexia

Soap will say some dumb shit about it and Gaz will fire back with something like “you need autocorrect irl b/c no one can fucking understand you”

Hates winter; this is a summer boy!

Ghost told him that Soap’s Halloween party was a dress-up party, but Gaz took it as a sexy dress-up party and came in a slutty nun outfit

Ghost had to go to the bathroom because he was tearing up from trying to hold back his laughter

Can’t pull all-nighters

This bitch NEEDS 8 hours or he’s not happy

Like… he can pull them, but you unlock this secret character trait of “ultimate fucking bitch Kyle”

Got really into Overwatch and then didn’t tell anyone after it died (pre OW2), then was fucking insane at every character when OW2 came out

Soap hates his ass for this

Flexes, only character he doesn’t like is Hanzo (still upset about the scatter arrow removal)

Tinyass bladder

“I have to pee”

“WE LEFT EIGHT MINUTES AGO WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

Really gentle with his friends, him and Soap’s bromance goes crazy like they’ll do that thing where they almost kiss and they pull back and go “WOAAAAAAH WOAHHHHHHH”

Thinks hairless cats are gross

Ghost:

The kind of guy to sit back and watch shit unfold unless the person who (is getting / is about to get) their shit rocked is someone he respects

Previously had an allergy to shellfish

Raw dogged it until the allergy literally went away

Exposure therapy, man

Knows what “L + Ratio” means and HAS used it against Soap once

Soap and Gaz lost their fuckin beans when he said it and they’ve never forgotten it

Sorta plain texter – really just like “K,” “Ok,” “Did you eat.”

Doesn’t use a lot of question marks

No question marks or really any punctuation other than a period at the end of EVERY text

Doesn’t use Apple emojis or Android, but the text version

Like :)

BUT ALWAYS ENDS THEM IN A PERIOD :).

Eventually unlearns this but ending everything like a sentence lasted for a while

He won’t say openly if he’s annoyed, but will add a little extra sharpness to his stare

Great at FPS games, chooses to not use the mic because he likes shitting on dumb mfkrs and listening to them bitch when he wins 1v1’s

Played OW for Soap and Gaz and got really fucking good at Zen, but almost always plays DPS

Learned how to build computers and finds it really relaxing

Soap and Gaz both asked for him to make them PCs and he said “no,” then did both of them in the span of one 3-week break cycle

Knows everyone’s addresses

How the fuck does he know everyone’s addresses

Definitely the guy to say a random set of numbers pretending like its someone’s IP address

“The Riley Murders” is a popular true-crime segment; literally avoids all true-crime media because of this

Not really a fan of the holidays, but he does put in the effort to be at the 141 parties and get-togethers for his team

Panic attacks for him aren’t obvious. He just stands there, holding his gaze at one spot while he clenches his jaw/fist, trying to push out the ringing in his ears

Doesn’t dress up for Halloween or does the bare minimum (antlers on top of his head, a single bowtie, etc)

Alejandro:

Uses all emojis

ESPECIALLY THE CATS

Weird about how much he likes Minions

Fucked up knee from tearing his ACL as a kid

Like his knees pop when he kneel down and shit

Bros so anti-drug he doesn’t like prescription drugs

*Bleeding out* “Tylenol? Why would I need that?”

His whole house is carpeted aside from the kitchen

No, you don’t understand. Carpeted bathrooms

Man has cold feet

Socks and indoor slippers but he’s got those luxury Ugg slippers that he wears religiously

Hates it when people chew with their mouth open

WILL MENTION IT

Plays Candy Crush

Owns an old Dell laptop, doesn’t play PC or console games

Price:

POP POP POP his joints are shit but good enough for the army ig

Tried yoga, didn’t have enough motivation to keep going, but still says he does yoga (it’s been like four years n Laswell gets on his ass about it)

“Overwatch? We’re off right now, why are we talking about this?”

“You have three guys on you? What are you talking about?”

Confused dad

Heavyweight drinker; man likes his beers

Gaz called him "dad" once and he owns it like a fucking medal

Says “back in my day” to fuck with everyone

Sings the Star Spangled Banner in the most heinously British accent he can

He only knows “Oh say can you see, by the dawns early light, oh so proud…” and then bullshits the rest

Soap:

Bisexual. No preference.

Not really a “will kiss anyone” but more of a “please let me kiss someone”

Flirts with fuckin’ anyone and everyone but the issue is that he just doesn’t stay in one place because of work, so unless he’s dating someone in the field (which is super rare), it’s mostly just flings

“Guys, let’s do the brown note endurance contest.” (Google “brown note youtube”)

Spells Spongebob like “Spunch Bob”

“I am not paid enough to do that.”

OW junkie, but likes story games a lot

Support/Tank main (Mercy and Reinhardt)

The Last Of Us fucking ended him; fav character is Joel :)

Hard of hearing in his right ear

Yells “WOT?” all the fucking time

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.“You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

[dirkjakeweekly]

DIRKJAKE FIC RECS

This is a rebloggeable version of our sidebar page reproduced in full, for those who prefer to save things on their own blogs for later!

INTRO

This page is not intended to be an encyclopedia, but rather a non-exhaustive list of a few Dirkjake Fanfics (and Fancomics) for those that may be interested in the ship, but a little too tired of trawling through AO3 search! Some of these contain NSFW or suggestive content, viewer discretion is advised.

[ FIC RECS (last updated Jan 2021, click readmore for full list) ]

It’s only a canvas sky

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

Read here!

GOD’S BRAND NEW FATE SELECTOR (Fancomics)

In ONE PARTICULAR TIMELINE, detached from many similar ones, an aspiring divorcee stands by his baby’s cradle and attempts to hatch an escape plan with some aid from the ghost of his long-deceased boyfriend. He’s not exactly helpful.

SOMEWHERE ELSE ENTIRELY, Dirk Strider is overcame by the nagging feeling his splinters may be getting a little out of hand and far too into his head, when he gets a booty call.

One timeline is Epilogues-Compliant, another Epilogues-Divergent. 

Read here!

We’re All Friends & Family Here (And Frankly, We’re Sick Of Your Shit)

It’s been about a year since the big Fast Forward, and sure, things on Earth C aren’t perfect for everyone. But they’re fine. Really. It’s fine. Everything is super fuckin’ swell, and that’s that.

It’s not like one night is going to change anything.

Read here!

Perpetuity

“Call it a car crash waiting to happen, you’ll just call it your downfall”

Dirk is a romantic, just not a particularly optimistic one.

(Written pre-epilogues release, post-game, fix-it)

Read here!

Tailspinning Into the Epilogues with Dirk and Jake (complete series)

Read here!

Stark Nonfiction (Part of the Tailspinning series)

Jake tries his hand at a gentler epilogue.

Read here!

Between the Lines (Part of the Tailspinning series)

“It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I felt so at peace, I guess. It was such a lovely jaunt with Jade, and instead of being all torn up about coming home, I feel even better, now. It’s actually been a real while and a half since I felt… bad, you know? Like actually bad.”

You don’t have much in the way of emotional permanence about that sort of thing. Surely it was months ago, when you were staring gloomily at the bottoms of bottles like the world’s most up-his-own-ass useless overdramatic dilettante. Did it even really happen, if it all, in hindsight, just seems like a dumb pantomime of misery to get attention? A successful dumb pantomime of misery to get attention, mind you, you definitely got it, and a boyfriend to boot. Was it ever really as atrocious and apocalyptic and unsurvivable as it seemed?

Read here!

A Palate Cleanser (Part of the Tailspinning series)

ROXY: hay everybody its jakes turn! ROXY: hes got a few words hed like to say about our dear departed buddy

The eulogy we missed on Candy’s page 15.

Read here!

Eschewal

“you hope he’s a benevolent god”

Read here!

Grublr. (Fancomic)

In the consort kingdom, atop of the large, humongous mansion where the god of Hope lives, there is an apartment complex.

Read here!

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend (Fancomic)

Jake English waking up sore and alone on a cold floor is not a strange occurrence for him as of late. The ethereal beam of light and sluggishly churning floor is new, but he’s woken up in stranger places.

If circumstances were better he’d probably have something shocked and relevant to say about this strange landscape he’s found himself in, but circumstances are in fact legendarily shit right now.

(A comic/fic where Jake English gets rights)

Read here!

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates

Dirk and Vriska have it good. They raid ships, pillage merchant vessels, constantly poison each other, possess a lucrative pact with the Wind King, sing a lot of dope fuckin’ sea shanties, and captain a loveable crew of pirate scum. They’re ready to kick back, take it easy, and become the vile and revered scourge of the diamond trading line.

Then they find someone in the water.

Read here!

Sea shanties for Thots (Four Kings continuation)

Jake English has never done anything wrong, ever, in his life, if you don’t count literally all that stuff from the first installment of oxfordRoulette’s diegetic-musical-cum-found-family-pirate-AU. Luckily, that was in the last story, and he is completely better now in all respects. None of that nonsense is a thing anymore and it will not be relevant at all! Surrounded by friends and allies, with a very cool piratey boyfriend and a hold full of treasure from his recently decimated country, he’s got everything a fellow could want.

What will he do?

Befriend an octopus god. Learn to fish. Kick back. Take it easy. Kiss his boyfriend a lot. Open a jewelry company? Pursue immortality. Confront his past. Embrace his future. Maybe save the world. One thing’s for sure: there will be a lot of songs involved.

Read here!

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

In a moment of desperation, Dirk goes on r/relationships. Things get oversharey real quick. He types as follows:

“I [23M] cannot understand my [24M?] roommate. He is the most bizarre man to ever set foot on earth and I’m afraid I’m losing him.”

or, and They Were Roommates.

Read here!

Drive it home with one headlight

Some mistakes are so fucking big that they divert the path of your life entirely, sending you somewhere you were never meant to go. Some mistakes are so seismic and so obvious that when you look back on your life all you can see is the beacon where you made them. Some mistakes leave you so far off course you don’t even recognize who you are or why you’re still here.

You don’t usually get a chance to make amends.

Read here!

A Tallied List of Various Occasions in Which Jake English Encountered the Elusive Smile Belonging to One Dirk Strider

Jake English, explorer extraordinaire, tracks down the most unique treasure of all: a nerd in pointy sunglasses.

Read here!

BONES OF BLACK MARROW

Dirk summons a demon for the exclusive purpose of ‘cathartic boning.’ He gets what he wants.

NOTE: This fic is ergodic (think House of Leaves), which means it cannot be downloaded for offline perusal on your kindle/pdf reader. Also has CYOA elements, so clicking “Entire Work” will make the fic impossible to read.

Read here!

fire fly

A wedding. An anxiety attack. A daring tryst.

Read here!

DIRK TOPS (Fancomic)

Ever think about how Dirk Strider got full narrative awareness of the fanfics where he’s the big scary hunk in charge and went “I can do that” when he wasn’t, in fact, able to do that? i do. i think about that.

Read here!

MLM stands for Moron loving Moron (Fancomic)

aren’t you TIRED of longing? don’t you just want to go APESHIT while dating your best bro? i mean, you’ve earned it, right? (Collection of oneshot comics. marked as complete, updates whenever)

Read here!

fist is a four letter word

Jake’s face quirks. “App?“ 

“Yeah, app. Like, application. You know your phone can do other things right? Like, apps.”

“You sure do keep using that word! I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean.”

“You know, apps.” You try to think of how to explain apps. You suddenly can’t think of what apps are.

What’s the name of an app.

Literally just name any app.

He’s staring at you.

Oh my god.

Read here!

Witching Hour

There’s something almost magical about that time between too late at night and too early in the morning. It’s the perfect time to meet a stranger and go on an adventure.

Read here!

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

A Fanfic Writer Interview

Tagged by @staranon95

Name: Airy or Chamomile

Fandoms: Currently on AO3 I've got Star Trek (TNG and DS9), Sailor Moon, The Mandalorian, The Witcher and Tintin, but there have been lots of others in the past, orphaned now.

Two-shot: I'm not even sure what that should be. A story with two chapters? I guess maybe Boba's Back? I feel like that went through a big tonal shift between chapters. Like it got a lot hornier and sloppier.

Most popular multichapter: Truly don't know, am bad at analysing these things.

Actual worst part of writing: thinking about a scene so many times long before I can write it (because there's other stuff to get through first) that when I get to it I can no longer write it properly because I can't remember the parts that felt perfect when I imagined them while driving home hating the traffic and unable to write them down.

How you choose your titles: With difficulty and reluctance. I tend to come up with them on the first chapter or so and then after like five or ten chapters they no longer seem to fit.

Do you outline: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no. I mean you understand I'm not trying to do this "properly" right? Fuck that. People who are trying to get published with an original idea can do things "properly" and let other people criticise their ideas and vocabulary and shit. This is for fun and I'm going to do whatever I want and FUCK that one "friend" who insisted I needed a beta reader and my stories were "unreadable" without that, I hope she gets a zit INSIDE her nose. god this is so many abandoned fandoms ago but FUCK I still resent her ass, how dare she? I'LL DESCRIBE HOW PUNGENT A SWEATY DICK SMELLS HOWEVER THE HELL I WANT GET BENT (I'm mildly drunk this evening how are you)

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?: I'm currently scared I'll never finish "No Peeking," and that it threatens to develop a huge subplot about Darth Maul coming back to life YET AGAIN, which has nothing to do with the domestic/romantic focus of the fic to date. This is... the opposite of what you asked. Idek.

Callouts @ me: you have a real fuckin thing about the nape of the neck don'tcha bro

Best writing traits: humour, evoking a mood of tenderness and affection alongside absolute filthiness

Spicy tangential opinion: Modern AUs are mostly a waste of time but I really want more AUs that get DEEP in to what element someone would bend AND/OR the Pokémon type with which they share the deepest affinity WHY DOES ALOLA REGION OFFICER JENNY WEAR A STAB VEST WHO WOULD EVER WANT TO STAB OFFICER JENNY!? god I love Pokémon god I want to live in Alola god I have thoughts and feelings about the respective traumas and redemptions of Lillie, Gladion and Guzma ALSO WHY DID THAT DICK FIRE KIAWE FROM HIS JOB AT THE SUPERMARKET WHAT THE HELL DID HE MEAN ABOUT SOMEONE WHO NEEDS THE JOB YOU DON'T THINK KIAWE NEEDS THE JOB!? EXCUSE ME IF A BROWN NATIVE KID FROM A FARM FAMILY DOESN'T MEET YOUR CRITERIA OF MEETING A JOB GOD I'M STILL BEWILDERED/SALTY ABOUT THAT incidntally my favourite crerpy feature of Sun/Moon is how you an like go into the bedrooms of random kids you emet an lie down on their beds an d SEMLL THERI PILLOWs lie what is tat e ven aout I'know you'r elike 10/11 yoursef but whose idea was that lol hy I recommend the Difford's Guide recipe for an Aviation cocktail who wants to have Thoughts about Guzma with me? no one? no? oiay

but his dad tried to hit him with a golf clu that sjot

s ficle i[ yp

No pressure tagging: look for reals just do this if you want to

[chibistarlyte]

one day

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. 

ayyy here’s a follow-up to my previous todobaku fic some days, this time from bakugou’s pov as he deals with the aftermath of todoroki’s depressive episode.

thank you to kat @sunshineijirou​ for the beta, as always! <3 ilysm!

fic can be read below the cut or here on ao3! you can also find a masterlist of all my bnha fics here!

.

If someone had told Katsuki, when he woke up this morning, that by this afternoon he’d be spooning with his secret crush after said secret crush jumped down to his balcony in some kind of depressive fit…

Suffice to say that Katsuki would have never believed it, even if his life depended on it.

Yet here he is, arms wrapped around Todoroki Shouto’s waist and his face buried in the back of his neck as the other boy sleeps peacefully in his bed. Or, Katsuki assumes peacefully, judging by the light snores and soft, lax features of Todoroki’s face.

Well, Katsuki thinks as he breathes a warm sigh against the other boy’s still frigid skin, at least Todoroki is safe now. It would be an outright lie to say that Katsuki hasn’t been worried about Todoroki all goddamn day, ever since he saw the other boy sitting precariously on the edge of his balcony and uttering uncharacteristic existential thoughts earlier that morning. 

Just a little bit ago, when Todoroki had jumped...Katsuki’s heart had all but stopped in his chest.

Unconsciously, Katsuki tightens his grip around Todoroki and digs his nose deeper into the soft skin at the nape of Todoroki’s neck, breathing in his scent. He’s okay. He’s okay.

Katsuki jolts as he hears a loud buzzing noise, his palms sweaty and sparking in his alarm. He quickly retracts his arms from around Todoroki, afraid of burning the other boy with his Quirk. Katsuki belatedly realizes the sound is his phone vibrating on top of the headboard. Wiping his sweaty hands on his shirt as he sits up, he reaches for his phone and unlocks it with a click. A notification bubble at the bottom of the screen tells him the class 1-A group chat is active with messages right now.

Midoriya: hey guys has anyone seen todoroki-kun since class was over? he left before i could catch up with him and he hasn’t answered any of my texts and when i went to his room to check on him he didn’t answer… Uraraka: i haven’t seen him since our rescue exercise, deku-kun. are you sure he came back to the dorms? Midoriya: i mean i’m not positive but where else would he go? Iida: Todoroki-kun has been acting strangely all day...perhaps he heeded our advice and sought out Recovery Girl? Kaminari: nah bruh, i was at rg’s office after class for my broken wrist, i didn’t see him there Tokoyami: I can have Dark Shadow scope out the area and look for Todoroki, if needed. Yaoyorozu: I am worried about Todoroki-san. He wasn’t acting like himself today, and I fear to think what would happen if he’s alone right now. Jirou: which room is his???? i can listen in and see if hes there Kirishima: he’s on the fifth floor, right above bakugou’s room

Katsuki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Great, now Todoroki has the entire class worried after him. They’d send out a goddamn search party if Katsuki doesn’t say something.

So he starts typing.

Bakugou: relax u damn extras, icyhot’s with me

There’s a short pause in the chat as several people begin typing and soon enough the messages flood right in.

Midoriya: what???? todoroki-kun is with you, kacchan?! Jirou: shit, dude, he must be fucked in the head to go hang out with explody Kirishima: is he ok?? are u guys in ur room bakubro? Mina: DID U KIDNAP THE POOR LAD, BAKUGOU?!? Uraraka: can we come see him?

Katsuki lets out a frustrated sigh and thumbs back a response.

Bakugou: if any of you assholes even think about coming and pounding on my door, i’ll break ur fuckin fingers. halfie’s asleep so you chucklefucks need to keep quiet

As if to make sure the group chat hadn’t somehow awoken Todoroki from his slumber, Katsuki looks away from his phone to the sleeping boy next to him. Not much has changed in the last few minutes, save for a slight twitching of Todoroki’s nostril and the fingers of his right hand slightly curling and unfurling.

When his phone pings with another message, Katsuki sees that it’s from Kirishima. He opens their text messages.

Kirishima: hey bakubro is everything ok?? i mean not just with todoroki but with u too? Bakugou: i’m fine, shitty hair. not sure about him, tho Bakugou: he was pretty messed up when i brought him in Kirishima: what happened? Bakugou: the crazy fucker jumped from his balcony down to mine like an idiot, coulda hurt himself Kirishima: … Kirishima: ...was he trying to Kirishima: u kno…

Katsuki doesn’t want to think about the reasons behind Todoroki’s actions, behind the other boy’s strange and despondent behavior all day. He knows Todoroki’s got family issues, with what he’d overheard at the sports festival in their first year. Then, after having dinner at the Todoroki household and interning with Endeavor all those months ago, Katsuki has been able to put the pieces together well enough. 

He scoots down the bed until he’s lying down again, his arm against Todoroki’s back as he holds his phone up to text with Kirishima.

Bakugou: idk, he hasn’t told me anything, just basically been a zombie the whole fuckin time. he was so cold and he wasn’t usin his quirk to warm up, bastard’s lucky he didn’t get hypothermia or some shit Kirishima: do u need anything? Bakugou: i told u, i’m fine Kirishima: ok...but srsly, i’m here for u if u need to talk...or if i can bring you anything, yeah? Bakugou: yeah, yeah, i get it hair for brains Bakugou: ...thanks Kirishima: i gotchu bro

Katsuki sets his phone on silent before locking it and placing it up on his headboard again. He rolls onto his side, chest against Todoroki’s back once again, and reaches around to touch the back of his hand to the other boy’s forehead. It still feels colder than it probably should, but warmer than before, which Katsuki counts as progress. 

He settles his arms around Todoroki’s waist again and scoots closer until they’re flush against each other. Katsuki tangles his legs with Todoroki’s to help warm them up—Todoroki’s bare ankles feel cold against Katsuki’s own heated skin.

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. 

"You really fuckin' scared me there for sec, half-n-half," Katsuki murmurs against the back of Todoroki’s neck, feeling the moisture of his own breath bouncing back at him from their close proximity. "The hell did you think you were doing?" he asks the air, knowing full well that Todoroki is dead asleep and can't hear a word Katsuki is saying. 

And thank fuck for that, because Katsuki can't seem to shut himself up and continues speaking.

"Don't you realize how many people care about your stupid ass? How important you are to everyone? Fucking Deku, Round Face, Four-Eyes, Yaomomo...me…"

Katsuki clenches his jaw to stop his mouth from betraying him any further. He has no idea what's compelling him to such honesty. Perhaps it's because he knows Todoroki can't hear him, knows that he won't have to suffer any unfortunate consequences of having his feelings laid bare in front of him. 

Just...seeing Todoroki fly through the air, even if it was only for a few seconds...Katsuki could have forever lost the chance to say all the things he wishes he were brave enough to admit. 

He sighs through his nose, his teeth gritting painfully against each other as he tightens his jaw even more. Fucking coward, he chastises himself.

"Bakugou?"

Katsuki's heart stills in his chest as Todoroki’s confused, sleep-laden voice drifts into his senses. Todoroki stiffens in his grip, muscles tense and taut, almost as if he's afraid of something. Unconsciously, Katsuki's arms tighten around the other boy’s waist and he finds his hands pressing almost protectively against Todoroki’s abdomen.

"I'm here," he answers belatedly, nuzzling his nose against Todoroki’s skin—still too cold for his liking, but ever so slowly getting warmer.

Todoroki exhales, going boneless in Katsuki's arms. There's a minute shift of his head as he digs his cheek into the pillow. "I...didn't dream it, then…" he says a bit absently, sounding so, so tired.

"Dream what?" Katsuki asks softly, his fingers tracing odd shapes on Todoroki’s skin.

"That I was here...with you," Todoroki clarifies, letting out another exhale that made him deflate like a balloon with too many leaks.

Katsuki is unable to keep from snorting. "Couldn't very well let you leave after you just—" He stops himself from finishing that thought, because the idea that Todoroki really might have been trying to off himself was too much for Katsuki to handle. "Look, you could barely walk and were hardly coherent enough to make it back to your room. I couldn't let you leave and end up hurting yourself or some shit."

Todoroki lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. 

"Don't you fucking laugh at me, you bastard," Katsuki says without any real threat. "Sorry for fucking caring about your stupid ass."

It's then that Todoroki starts to pull away, curling in on himself. He untangles his legs from Katsuki's and worms his way out of Katsuki's arms until he’s at the edge of the bed, the two of them no longer touching. 

Katsuki's heart sinks into his stomach. Damn it, there goes his stupid mouth ruining everything again.

"You shouldn't care about me," Todoroki says, sounding miles away. 

"Why the fuck not?" Katsuki bites back, not liking where this conversation has turned. 

"I'm not worth it," Todoroki repeats his words from earlier, and they still feel like a knife stabbing right through Katsuki's chest. 

He doesn't understand why someone like Todoroki could ever think he's worthless.

It makes him...angry.

"What the fuck is it gonna take for you to realize that you are worth it?" Katsuki says in a harsh whisper, trying to reign in his rage. He knows if he explodes now, he might chase Todoroki off and cause him to do...something…

Todoroki doesn't answer.

Against his better judgment, Katsuki reaches for Todoroki’s back. His fingers barely graze the black t-shirt he's wearing before he notices a significant drop in temperature. Frost begins crawling up the shell of Todoroki’s ear.

"No, no, stop that," Katsuki says as he frantically scoots closer. He envelops Todoroki in his arms once again, willing his own body heat into the other boy to cancel out the freezing power of his Quirk. 

To Katsuki's surprise, Todoroki shifts and rolls over so that they're face to face. Tears snake sideways down Todoroki’s face and melt into the pillowcase. Katsuki feels incredibly guilty for still finding Todoroki so beautiful.

Katsuki's hands find the small of Todoroki’s back, his fingers tangling in the cotton of his t-shirt. 

"I'm sorry," Todoroki chokes out, squirming and wiggling until his face is hidden against Katsuki’s chest. 

"Nothin' to be sorry for, icyhot. We all got shit to deal with," Katsuki mutters into Todoroki’s hair, wanting to lay a kiss along the part of red and white. But he refrains.

Todoroki just nods. Katsuki can feel his tears soak into his shirt.

They stay like that for what could have been moments or hours, for all Katsuki knows. When he hears Todoroki’s breathing even out again, and notices a faint warmth pulsating through the air, Katsuki sighs in relief.

It's amazing how one day can change so many things, he muses. Katsuki's world has been tilted off its axis in the span of mere hours, making him reevaluate almost everything he's come to learn about himself, about Todoroki. He knows, without a doubt, that he cares for the idiot in his arms. His moment of clarity had come the second Todoroki had let go of the railing.

Katsuki swears to himself that he'll make Todoroki realize how much he matters to everyone. And, maybe one day, how much he matters to Katsuki.

[derireo]

The Disparity Between Mankai Tasuku and Little Bro Tax ↦ Tasuku

Izumi catches Fuyuki blatantly bringing a Christmas tree into the dorm while donning a red suit.

He says it's for his little bro, Tasuku, but it's July. There's literally no reason for this.

warnings: tasuku’s older brother makes an appearance. spoilers? this is based off a twt convo between @.nyaa_gumi and @.kimeyngo about how tasuku would probably still believe in santa.

「 read here on ao3 」 「 2.2k words 」

"It's— it's July." Izumi said dumbly as she watched Tasuku's brother, Fuyuki, march into the Mankai dorms with a decently sized Christmas tree under his arm.

"Fuyuki. It's July." She emphasised when he ignored her and continued walking towards the lounge. Her exhale was exasperated while he placed the decoration in the corner, her hands on her hips.

He turned around with a smile, a smile similar to Tasuku's but much more kinder. It didn't seem like he cared that it was July, and even gestured towards the red suit he was wearing.

"Tasuku was worried he wasn't going to celebrate Christmas this year." He explained, readjusting the hat on his head.

Izumi clearly didn't know what that meant, so Fuyuki sighed and held his arms wide open as a gesture to himself. "I'm just bringing home the holiday a little early."

"Okay. But at the dorm?" The director asked pathetically; she was already worried about Sakyo's reaction if he saw what was happening right now.

With an affirmative nod the man dressed in red then saluted Izumi, sending her a wink.

"Can't expect a busy man like him to come home whenever he wants."

"You're lucky all the kids are out and Sakyo's working." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The sunshines would probably be ecstatic over a little scene like this despite the month they were in right now, and Sakyo would without a doubt kick the shit out of Fuyuki.

"And what's with the suit." Her hand gestured towards his get up with a loose wrist while her mouth twisted with disgust. Not that she really minded, but the fake gut wasn't doing Fuyuki any justice.

He had a fake beard hanging loose around his neck while his hat was lopsided, but the man standing in front of her looked excited.

"You'll see." He said cryptically. He began to put everything on properly as Izumi was left dumbfounded by the incredulous situation. The sound of familiar footsteps began to come down the hallway, and Izumi realised it was Tasuku.

Both her and Fuyuki looked at each other, the woman's gaze more full of doubt while the man held a hint of mirth. What reaction were they going to receive?

"Morning." Tasuku greeted Izumi with a yawn, eyes half closed as he stretched his arms above his head. His sigh was full of satisfaction as his muscles loosened, and he opened his eyes when Izumi didn't respond right away.

"Hey, are you good—" He paused when he saw Fuyuki. He blinked once. Then twice. He stared dumbly at the man in the centre of the lounge, the person who was obviously his brother, and covered his mouth with his hand.

Izumi could hear his breath hitch.

"..Santa?"

Okay, hold on.

"Tasuku—" Izumi started, but Fuyuki interrupted her before she could ruin the moment."

"Merry Christmas, Tasuku." He said; voice almost unchanged as he pat his gut and gave a hefty wave to his brother.

Tasuku continued to stare, his face stuck between confusion and... childish excitement. The exasperation Izumi felt right at this moment left her stomach swooping when she watched Tasuku run a hand through is hair; as if he couldn't believe that they had the Santa in their home right now.

And in July no less. Dear god.

"Why—" Tasuku choked on his question and looked back between Fuyuki and Izumi with a troubled look, his eyes sad all of a sudden. "Fuyuki isn't here to see him."

"Wha— okay." The absurdity was getting a little too much to handle, but Izumi couldn't bring herself to confess that his brother was literally right there. She held her cheek in her palm, looking hopeless as she waved Tasuku over to sit on the couch, needlessly patting his head when he did so obediently.

"Santa's here because he heard you were worried about not being able to celebrate Christmas this December." Izumi said slowly, sitting down on the arm of the sofa while glaring at Fuyuki who was nodding in approval. "Did you say anything about that, Tasuku?"

The gentle prod by Izumi had the actor nodding. But Tasuku was way too busy marvelling at how he was seeing Santa in the flesh; his heart feeling like it was going to burst. Santa was here for him?

The man fiddled awkwardly with his hands while Izumi casually curled an arm around his shoulders, the woman sending an expectant look in the direction of Fuyuki who was still standing there doing nothing.

She was given another subtle wink as if to put her mind at ease, and suddenly, he was procuring a huge ass gift out of no where.

Magician Chikage who?

"I know it's still July, but I got you a little something, kiddo." Fuyuki crooned, waving the wrapped up gift in his hands in the air.

He tossed the box towards Tasuku and Izumi and the man easily caught it while Izumi flinched in surprise. There was a sparkle to Tasuku's eyes as he looked at the item in his hold, and with a nod from Santa, began to rip it open.

Izumi could only watch on with amazement. Six foot tall Tasuku with hulking shoulders and a broad chest— a man who was almost always frowning.. was now looking like a child on Christmas.

"Holy shit." Tasuku groaned, leaning back onto Izumi's shoulder once he saw what it was Fuyuki got him as a gift. "I've been meaning to get these mini soccer nets for so long." He whispered under his breath, staring wide eyed at Izumi who was giving him a weak smile.

She couldn't believe this was going so well.

"Thank you so much." Tasuku frowned. It looked like he was about cry; and having been awake for barely an hour and seeing Santa in that short time span, it was understandable.

With eyes smiling, Fuyuki shook his head while Izumi sighed and pet Tasuku's hair as he began to rip the box apart, the soccer goals springing out onto the floor.

"I'm gonna go get my soccer ball." Tasuku said quickly as both him and Izumi noticed that Fuyuki looked just about ready to leave, and the younger brother stood up to scurry towards his room leaving his director and brother in the lounge.

"Oh my god. Go freakin' change in my room before Tasuku gets back." Izumi whisper shouted once the actor was out of sight and began to push Fuyuki down the other hallway where her room was. "I can't believe this."

"He'll get suspicious if Santa leaves without saying goodbye—" He complained, but Izumi was quick to shove him into her room.

"Yeah, well, Santa doesn't fuckin' play soccer, dumbass." She hissed and shut the door without letting the man have one more word in. After the whole debacle they just went through, she was not going to let Tasuku find out that Santa was actually Fuyuki in disguise.

By the time she has gotten back to the lounge, Tasuku was already looking around in confusion, wondering where she and Santa had went.

The soccer ball he always brought around with him when they went to the park was under his arm while he held the mini nets in one hand. He was frowning when he saw Izumi come back and trudged towards her with his shoulders shrinking in; head dipping down to whisper in her ear.

"Where'd Santa go?" He murmured lowly.

His voice almost sounded like he was going to kill her, but when Izumi looked up, the expression on his face was crestfallen. She had to sigh. She couldn't tell if Tasuku was just a really good actor or if Fuyuki actually managed to pull this bullshit off.

"Had to leave real quick. There was a problem at the workshop."

"..The workshop is open right now?"

"I don't know, Tasu." Izumi held back a sigh and gestured towards the nets. "He got you that, didn't he? Come on, let's go play." She shook her head and reached out to grab Tasuku's wrist, and just as they were about to head out to the courtyard, Fuyuki exited Izumi's bedroom in his casual clothing.

The sight of him left Izumi inwardly groaning  as Tasuku had paused in his movements, staring across the hallway at his brother who was shamelessly waving at the pair.

"Fuyuki. You were here?" Tasuku asked. As if the sudden appearance of his brother wasn't a tell tale sign that.. Santa may not have been here at all.

Izumi wanted to sit down and just take a break.

"Yep. Thought I'd stop by and visit, but I was super tired when I got here! Izumi-chan let me take a nap in her room."

"...You don't have a thing going on with my director, right?"

"What. Tasuku, come on." Izumi rolled her eyes at the sudden possessiveness and motioned for Fuyuki to join them as they continued to head towards the courtyard. What was amusing to Izumi was that Tasuku's tone when talking to his brother was almost monotone and uninterested while with 'Santa', that was probably the most ecstatic she's ever heard him.

"Well, I mean.. Hey, I was just joking— ow!" A punch to the gut by Izumi was what made Fuyuki double over on the grass once they made it outside and Tasuku smiled. Just a little. The actor began to set up the small nets as Izumi continued to kick at Fuyuki until he begged for her to stop and tossed the soccer ball in her direction. Izumi took it as her chance to slam the ball down onto the back of Fuyuki's head with a menacing grin, and the older brother cried out miserably while Tasuku went to fetch the ball.

"You missed Saint Nick." Tasuku commented casually and set the soccer ball down in the grass, dribbling it between his two feet as he waited for Izumi and Fuyuki to stop bickering.

"Damn. Really?" Fuyuki muttered as Izumi knocked him over again, the poor man flailing. "Shit— stop. I want to hear more about Santa, Izumi!"

And with that, the director relented. She put her foot back down on the ground and snarled down at the man who was still laying in the grass, her eyes filled with disgust for the person who was looking up at her with pleading puppy dog eyes.

The pause gave Tasuku enough time to begin rambling off his and Izumi's short time with Santa, his face suddenly lighting up like a newly screwed in light bulb in the washroom. The soccer ball was being juggled by his feet with ease as the other two watched on with intrigue, acting surprised and just as enthusiastic about the situation to make sure Tasuku didn't catch onto their lies.

Fuyuki expressed his regret for napping so long in Izumi's room, making an excuse that he loved the scent of her sheets so much that he didn't want to leave (which earned him another punch) while trapping the ball to his chest when his brother kicked it to him.

Everyone then began to confess their own thoughts about Santa and how their interaction with him went (except for Fuyuki. But he claimed he had met the man a few times in the past, even gloating to Izumi about it for some reason).

They were all having so much fun just chatting and playing around with Tasuku's new present that by the time they had realised it, it was the evening, and Sakyo had come down to ask a very important question.

"Why the hell is there a Christmas tree in the lounge?" He sighed irritably, exhausted from his long day at work. When he came home, the younger actors were staring at the tree in wonder and asked Sakyo if he was the one to put it there before he left for work. Not really one of the stupidest questions the man has been asked, but still, pretty stupid.

It was July.

"And who brought it home?" He gritted when the trio ignored him, happily throwing the soccer ball to each other with their hands after giving up kicking it around in the dirt like boring people do (noah fence).

"Santa!" "Rugby!"

Tasuku shouted at the same time as Izumi when Fuyuki caught the ball in his hands and the woman suddenly launched herself at him, body tackling him to the ground to make him drop the ball.

"Oh, the joys of Christmas." Izumi tittered whilst the scream that left Fuyuki's mouth probably woke up a few of their neighbours. The obscure comment left Sakyo confused and at the same time pissed off, and when Tasuku or his brother didn't offer anything else to add on, the blond left the courtyard without another word; only hoping that Fuyuki would take his tree with him once he left for home.

Of course Fuyuki would be the only one able to bring a Christmas tree here.

Izumi never would have had the time and Tasuku didn't seem keen on celebrating the holidays.

But there was still one thing lingering in Sakyo's mind as he walked back inside.

...Why was there a Santa hat poking out from underneath Izumi's door?

[keelywolfe]

FIC: My Private Happiness ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Dealing with the world's bullshit is exhausting, especially when that bullshit includes Red's bro. Stretch and Edge finally went on a damn date and all Red can hope for now is they don't fuck it up, 'cause he's got his own shit to handle, thanks, lots and lots of handling.

Tags:  Kustard, Pre-Spicyhoney, Angst, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms,  Lemon Goodness

Notes:  

So now we can see the behind the scenes after  Pillars of Creation, Edge and Stretch’s first ’date’.

While those two were feeling there way through their emotions, Sans and Red were feeling their way through a little more literally. 😉

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

CH1 | 

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Someone was in his house.

Since the boss moved out, Red was gettin’ used to living on his own. Spending his morning kicking his way through trash and balled up socks, and his nights scarfing down fast food, leaving the wrappers to molder behind the sofa in between the days he headed over to his bro’s place to raid the fridge.

Tonight, he was full of Pap’s cooking…no, Edge, it was Edge now. Funny, innit, how easy it was to toss his own name into the trash, but his thoughts still slipped up sometimes when it came to his bro.

Point was, he didn’t have a little brother in his house to trip over anymore or demand he get his ass up and out to his sentry post ‘fore Undyne caught him slackin’. He lived on his own and he fucking well liked it.

So whoever it was that decided hangin’ out in his living room was a good life choice was gonna figure out what a mistake they’d made getting’ up this morning real fast.

Red kicked off his shoes on the doormat that his bro left when he moved out, not looking in the direction of that presence. He yawned, scrubbing an idle hand over his face, then he whipped around and sent out an attack, light on the intent but enough to get someone’s attention right quick. Turned out that any intent was a bad idea and weren’t they lucky-loos that Sans sidestepped the bones easily. Sans was a dick but that didn’t mean Red woulda been happy to bring him home to Papyrus in a jar.

“the fuck you doin’ in my house,” Red growled. The house was plenty warm, he kept the temp higher than when Edge was living here, but he kept his jacket on, shoving his hands into the pockets as he glared at Sans.

Not that it had any effect, course it fucking didn’t. Sans sidesteps dirty looks as easily as attacks, his grin mild and unoffended as he said, “you’re late. s’friday.”

Fuck him if it wasn’t. Friday was when they got together for their weekly review of the local gossips, plus whatever goods they needed to discuss outside of the Embassy’s listening walls, and Red woulda remembered that if it weren’t for the fact that Edge and Stretch were finally taking their first uncertain step towards the fucking that they should’ve been doing for ages now.

Eh, it was more than that, though, wasn’t it. If it were just fucking, Red wouldn’t give a shit. Something about the honey bun, though. Wasn’t real obvious, ‘cept to him and maybe Sans, but if he saw, Sans kept his cards tucked in close to his chest. Could only see it if you knew how to look right and it was kinda nice to take a peek at someone’s soul and see somethin’…nice, for a change. Somethin’ that could be good for his brother, if he could pry his skull out of his pelvis long enough to get ahold of it.

For Sans, all Red had was a one-shouldered shrug. “’bout the only new news i got is that edge and stretch finally went out tonight. my bro only just got home.”

Sans only looked all the more amused, his grin ticking upward on one side as he tucked hands into his hoodie pockets, turning himself into Red’s more saintly mirror image. Course, if anyone took the lack of demon eye lights and sharp teeth as a clue that Sans was on the side of the angels, they deserved what they got.

“sounds like the date didn’t go too bad then, huh?” Sans asked,

“heh. well, they didn’t fuck, if that’s what you were hopin’ for.” If Red were perfectly honest, that probably wasn’t on the table for a while yet. For all their vicious flirting, Edge never did show much of an interest in getting pelvic with anyone so far and Red was kinda hoping that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the honeybun.

“no one was laying odds on that,” Sans snorted. “they goin’ out again?”

“according to my bro’s phone record, they are.” And from what he saw, this time the date was Edge’s choice. Might have to keep an eye on that and make sure he didn’t invite the honey bun over for fucking crosswords or deep-cleaning the carpet, some shit like that. Didn’t have to get pelvic, but shit, Edge would have to do a little better to entertain Stretch. Speakin’ of pelvises… Red licked his teeth and asked, “you wanna talk about my bro’s dating habits or you wanna try somethin’ else? think it’s your turn, sansy.”

Anyone else might’ve tucked tail and ran at that little insinuation. Sans only shrugged and some people would call the gleam in his eye lights sadistic. Red wasn’t one of ‘em, but he still frowned when Sans said, easily, “could do both.”

Yeah, okay, they probably could, if they really fuckin’ had to and Red guessed they did, because he wasn’t about to let Sans win that one even if thinkin’ about his baby bro alongside sex about made his libido crawl back into his soul.

It was the work of minutes to get settled on the sofa, his shorts pulled down to the tops of his femurs and soon enough Sans’s head was bobbing in Red’s lap as he sucked his cock with lazy enthusiasm. Red sighed, setting a hand on the back of Sans’s skull. Not really guiding, just letting him make his way downtown, homeward bound, the magic of his formed mouth slick and his tongue cushiony plush as it wound around the shaft.

“know somethin’? if the honey bun hurts my bro, i’m gonna kill him,” Red said, with enough relish to top one of those cheap-ass hot dogs Sans was so fucking fond of. He couldn’t hold back a gasp as Sans hummed thoughtfully, choking out, “could do it easy. make it look like an accident, no one’d ever guess.”

Sans pulled off, licking his teeth and leaving behind a film of pink. “no, you won’t.”

“you sure?” Red teased. Abruptly, he remembered that Stretch put in an offer to Sans once for something like this. Probably only wanted some friendly touchy-feely, the honey bun leaned towards desperate the first few months after they got here, but it still happened, even if Sans told him no. He tried to pull Sans’s head back down, the cold air on his wet dick wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he resisted.

“course i’m sure.” Sans rolled essentially his entire face before he leaned down and swiped his tongue messily across the head of Red’s dick. “if you were making murder plans, you wouldn’t’ve told me.”

Huh. That made too much sense and Red sank back, disgruntled. “you blowin’ me or not?”

“guess if that’s the only two options, i’ll stick with column a.”

“i got your column right here,” Red grumbled. Sans’s chuckle was reduced to a low groan as Red pushed back between his teeth into the plush softness of his mouth. Hearing it made him itch for more, made him want to shove Sansy off and get him on his knees, tear those shorts off him and see how lazy he was when Red was riding him like a bastard, rutting against him while he choked out those little groans until they went strangled and whining.

But that ain’t the deal, is it.

Red let his head drop back, clenching his own groans back behind his teeth as Sans worked him with that sweet, hot mouth, and let his mind go blank.

He’d done enough thinking for one night.

-fin

[themockingcrows]

Companionship Through Circuitry ch. 6: Setbacks

Bro/Hal cw: blood, violence, deathclaws, and a generally bad day in the wasteland

Journeys are never without their inherent dangers. When you're living in the wasteland, it's to be expected. Doesn't make them suck any less, though.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942408/chapters/64071430

     I spy with my little eye-

     “Hal, pick a new game already.”

     I can assure you this is the best game to play out here.

     “Fine,” Bro said, exhausted. They’d been traveling for days on the remains of the highway by now and there was no sign of a proper township. He smelled, his back and legs hurt, and despite having plenty of food water was always a precious commodity. He also had at least four letters to send by now, including a few sketches and schematics he’d designed after toying with the Furby body some more, in case Dave wanted to get his hands on a little guardian bot of his own. The kid was smart, even he’d be able to handle basic scripting to make a functional system for it. Surely someone else he was buddies with could figure out an AI of sorts for it, too. 

     True, it would have been easier to follow another path by now, but following the main point of the highway just seemed the best, most direct route for him. Who’s to say it was brahmin who made the trodden paths that led further into the wastes, or humans? What if it was mutants, or worse, deathclaws stalking the wastelands? Scuttling parties of mole rats or vicious dogs.

     Would you like to know what I spy or not, Bro.

     “I don’t want to know, but I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna tell me anyway aren’t you.”

     Correct! I’ll give you a few hints.

     Bro groaned in irritation.

     “A bloatfly,” he guessed off the bat.

     No, though it is annoying.

     “As annoyin’ as you? Why isn’t there a fuckin’ mute option on these shades..”

     Your second hint is that it’s bipedal.

     That perked him up somewhat. Bro scanned the horizon further off for signs of a city or outpost, a wanderer, a courier. Anyone. Instead what he saw was the lanky, sharply pointed edges of a juvenile deathclaw. A definite pain in the ass, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

     “...And how long have we been in deathclaw territory for, Hal?”

     Uncertain, my saved map mentions shopping centers, not deathclaws.

     “Ooh, shopping centers?” he said. “Put a peg in it, if we find somewhere to trade soon we might do a run back to grab some more supplies for trade and keepin’.”

     The deathclaw is still nearby, you know.

     “I can avoid it if I want,” Bro said, taking out his sword. A juvenile would take some fast work, but he knew he was good for dispatching the monstrosities, and people paid good money for their clawed hands, even the small ones. Hell, even he wanted some bits off of one sometime, though mostly for show. How sick would a deathclaw fang necklace be, after all?

     You appear to be approaching the small one instead of fleeing.

     “Watch and learn, Hal,” Bro said as he shifted his weight and began to run. Aching feet or not, his boots cut into the crisp cooked layer of topsoil and sank ever so slightly with each step. The deathclaw noticed him and turned, beginning to awkwardly run towards him, long limbs ungainly but just as deadly as an adult. They met in the middle, Bro’s sword singing off the armored hide of the creature’s forearms, taking a chunk with it as he went. The deathclaw lunged for his middle with a shrill noise, catching a chunk of shirt on the end of one of its spiky hands, but just missing his tender vitals. He turned, and used the momentum to slice at the space where its behorned head connected to its body, the sword sliding against softer skin. Staggered, the small deathclaw stepped forward, then tottered back unsteadily as it began to bleed out.

     Bro lifted a foot and kicked the creature backwards to its spiny back, then followed with the sword to spear its chest, cranking the blade to the side once it glanced off a rib, forcing downwards till it stopped moving. Planting his boot on its chest, he yanked his sword free and swung it in the air a few times to rid it of blood, and smirked. Fuck, that felt good. Nothing like taking out a little nightmare to give a nice rush of adrenaline and dopamine. Hell, he wouldn’t even say no to a smoke or a drink right now, ride that high long as he could.

     Excellent, now how do you intend to deal with the mother?

     “Mother?” Bro asked, about a half second before he felt something plow into him like a freight train, sending him flying and pain searing through his right shoulder blade. He landed flat on his face and skidded before rolling over, hand on his sword raising it defensively and other hand reaching for his gun.

     Shit. Shit, shit, this was definitely a mother death claw, the hide was darker than usual. He must’ve just killed one of her brood. Not a good look for someone not interested in dying in the middle of nowhere. He fired a quick two shots, missing the first and nailing her in the left eye  with the second, though it only seemed to make her more enraged after a brief second of shaking her head. She raised a hand and slashed downwards where Bro was scooting backwards, forcing him to block with a weakened grip before the second slash sang home across his chest, blood spurting where her claws shredded flesh and fabric alike. One of the straps of Bro’s bags was severed, leaving him half dragging it as he continued to try crawling backwards, firing till his clip was empty.

     Hal was urgently trying to tell him something, but Bro couldn’t hear anymore, couldn’t think, could only focus on the burning in his chest and the taste of copper in his mouth. Things were flashing through his mind as he stared down the deathclaw, who was raising both of her hands for a double slash that he wouldn’t be able to block in the slightest. Things he still wanted to do, to say. Memories.

     Dave the day he left home to travel to the city, bag on his back and barely a look back as he wove past the traps. Dave as a lanky tween, perched by his side on the counter top as he cooked an omelette for them both, telling him a joke that he still didn’t think was funny but that he’d laughed at anyway. Dave at five, sitting on his lap as he fiddled with a new project that would eventually become a birthday present game for him, looking up at him with big red eyes almost full of tears when he refused to tell him what he was working on.

     Dave, still struggling to put weight on as an infant as Bro kept him warm on the sofa through a bout of fever, trying to coax him into eating just a bit more from the bottle, wondering if he should make the trek to find a doctor or keep hunkering down and hoping it would work itself out. Being scared out of his fucking mind about this tiny, sick thing in his arms and on his chest, worried he’d break if he moved wrong.

     This wasn’t fear he felt. It was acceptance. Dave being sick or hurt was fear, even when he’d been the one to hurt him in the preparations he’d run repeatedly over the years. A deathclaw? This was his just rewards for being cocky without backup. He wanted to have time to apologize to Dave, like he always really meant to.

     He wanted to apologize to Hal, too, for not managing to take him to get his body. For getting his hopes up about Dirk and then dying with him in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the shades would get crushed by the deathclaw after he died, spare him much misery. They’d both just go out like a candle in the breeze and nobody would be any the wiser.

     A shot rang out, and blood spurted from the side of the deathclaw’s head. She staggered, stomping her sharp feet on his abdomen and legs as she adjusted her balance and snarled in alarm at the new threat. More shots, each one more precise than the last, till finally one hit the same eye he’d shot earlier, and the beast went down on top of him. Though his ears were still ringing, Bro could feel his pulse slowing down and everything going darker as the feeling of faintness took over.

     Bro. Bro!

     “Sorry, Dave,” he mumbled, blood on his lips and eyes unfocusing as red eyes stared at him. No, wait, not Dave. “Hal..”

     AMBROSE.

     The last thing Bro was aware of was a high pitched repeated beeping pattern ringing out from the shades on his face, a signal he knew so well. Anyone out here could recognize SOS when they heard it, but Bro couldn’t care anymore who did hear it.

     Darkness claimed him.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

     “...p. See? I think he’s waking up! Jake, push more fluids!”

     “I’m going as fast as I can, don’t you think he’d bl-........”

     “...ver if we don’t. Sometimes you have to do dangerous things in a time of crisis, just pu-...”

     “...rry chap, we’re doing our best. Why were you playing with a deathclaw mot-...”

     “...’s going under again, God damn it why don’t we have more gauze!”

     “...aid last time we wouldn’t need that many, let me check his ba-...”

     “....tting sick, stupid coat, ugh! Hand me a clo-...”

     “...ehozaphat he’s rolling in meds and chems! Lookit all this, it’s a kings ran-...”

     “...ab whatever you can, inject him with at least two, and hand the alcohol to me so I ca-...”

     “...nk he’ll make it? He’s in an awful way, Jade. We’re still at least a few miles out fro-...”

     “...re he’ll make it, we just need to hur-...”

     ...ve him. Please. Pulse is falling at an alarming ra-...

     “...re trying our best, believe me, it’s up to him if we ca-...”

     ...n’t lose him to-...

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

     When Ambrose woke, it was to clean sheets and a bright light coming from a window. He reached up to touch his face and panicked to realize the shades weren’t on him any longer, looking around as he tried to sit stark upright to look around. Tried being the correct term, considering when he got a few inches upright his abdomen and chest sang with burning pain and forced him to lay back on an aching shoulder. Sighing an exhale, Bro took the room and himself into account.

     The room itself looked to be a standard medical setup for a scap town, shelves of supplies and a few more beds shoved into the same room with him, a shabby gray curtain sectioning the space off from another area. He was laying on a cot with the aforementioned clean sheets, which were a hell of a commodity, and wrapped what felt like head to toe in bandages. His chest had padding underneath that seemed fresh enough, as well as his abdomen, and another bandage seemed to be wrapping his shoulder. His forearms had bandages, a shift of his legs revealed smaller areas of wrappings and-

     Bro snatched the sheets and lifted them upwards, looking down towards his groin in worry. Okay. Phew. Dick still there and in one piece, no need to panic. Thank fuck.

     Were you honestly more concerned for your dick than me? Came a voice from the top of the shelves, arms folded in and tucked at an angle to not get damaged or in the way.

     “To be fair, I’ve been attached to my dick longer than you,” Bro said, giving another try at this standing thing and getting as far as sitting upright before he had to stop, dizzy. He was also connected to an IV he realized, two bags half drained already and the tether attached to his arm carefully with another bandage and some tape to keep it from moving. One of the bags was unmistakably blood. “Where’s my stuff.”

     I’m fine, thank you for asking. I can really tell you were concerned for my safety after being nearly disemboweled. I can also tell you’re just dying to know how you went about not dying.

     “My stuff, Hal.”

     In the other room, safe and fucking sound.

     “Thank you. Gimme a second and I’ll come get you,” Bro said, running a hand through his hair. He realized with surprise that it was clean instead of gritty with sand and dust and blood, freshly washed like the rest of him. Someone had taken care to wash him thoroughly it seemed. Hell, even his fingernails were spotless. Shocking. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this squeaky clean, it was almost a shame he didn’t remember it. “How long have I been out?”

     Almost a week.

     “Jesus,” Bro rasped as he finally stood up on shaky fawn legs, reaching for the IV stand for balance before making his way over to the shelf, naked as the day he was born save for the bandages. He groped for the shades hurriedly when he started feeling faint again, and had just grabbed them when the curtain pulled back.

     A tall girl with dark skin, shocking green eyes and long wild hair tied back into evenly sectioned ponytails stood owl eyed behind large round glasses with a single crack in the left lens, a stethoscope around her neck and familiar leftover military gear covering her from head to toe. She frowned, and immediately rushed forward to grab Bro by the elbow and middle of his back, steering him back to bed.

     “How long have you been awake!” she asked. “Why didn’t you wait till someone came to help you? Are you in pain? Do you need any water? Food?”

     “Few minutes,” Bro said, more than a little startled. He sat and covered himself soon as he could, but the young woman didn’t back off in the slightest, swooping close to shine a pocket light in his eyes, checking his pupils.

     “Has there been any bleeding? Any night terrors? Do you have any numbness or weaknesses?”

     “I feel like shit, but otherwise,” Bro said, grimacing and jerking his head back from her grasp as she turned the light off.

     “I’ll get Jake to bring some lunch in for you, I’m glad you’re not running on glucose anymore. Actually, I’m glad you’re running at all,” she said with a grin. Her canines were strangely sharp looking. “My name is Jade Harley, and I’m half of the reason you’re alive right now.”

     “Is the chap who tried to cuddle the wrong end of a mother deathclaw awake yet?” asked another voice from beyond the open curtain.

     “He is! Get some of those mirelurk cakes and mac and cheese, please?”

     “I’ll bring some of that slackjaw jerky too, I imagine he’s half starved for real food,” said the male out of sight, before Bro heard distant sounds of dishes and metal scraping metal.

     “...So what, you a doctor?” he guessed.

     “We both are, in our own right. My cousin, Jake English, is the one who spotted you first out there. The primary reason you’re alive, however, is because we’re both sharpshooters! There wouldn’t have been much left to save if we hadn’t pegged that bitch into the dirt,” she said enthusiastically.

     Bro’s lip twitched in amusement. This person couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, but she was a doctor? And a sharpshooter?

     “So who really saved me?”

     Jade’s smile sharpened somewhat, looking predatory. “I don’t think I’d tease like that when you’re still so weak. All it’d take is a cushion to take you out right now, I bet.”

     “Sorry, just. You’re so young…” he trailed off as another figure entered the room with a dinner tray. This person didn’t look much older than Jade if he was a day, face clean shaven and hair styled but messy, standing at about the same height. He looked much more solid, though, shoulders broad and chest straining a little at the fatigues shirt he wore, and his demeanor seemed much sweeter than his cousin at first glance. More innocent somehow, or somehow less aware of the intensity of their surroundings.

     “Here you are, I’ll get some juice for you as well in a few ticks. First time I’m seeing this much of your outside as opposed to your inside since we got you scrubbed down!” he laughed, setting the tray on Bro’s lap. The food smelled fresh and was warm on his thighs beneath the sheet, mirelurk cakes looking greasy and delicious, mac and cheese that smelled plenty creamy from the box, and some kind of soft looking jerky rubbed with spices that made his mouth water as much as the fresh stuff before him

     “Try to eat slow,” Jade warned him as Jake trotted back out of view for a moment and came back with juice as promised. “Hope apple’s okay! It’s what we’ve got.”

     “Apple’s fine,” Bro promised, tucking into the mac and cheese first, eyes closing in bliss. Salty, creamy, rich. He could feel it flooding his system already, a body starved for nutrients beyond the bare minimum of functioning and safety. Once he shoveled a second bite into his mouth, he slid the shades onto his face and grinned a bit when haughty red eyes looked at him. Hal was clearly annoyed, angry even, but those eyes were full of concern too.

     “We’ve got tea too, though not everyone enjoys what we brew,” Jake chuckled.

     “Their loss, it’s delicious,” said Jade with a shake of her head.

     Scans show temperature readings as normal. Pulse normal. Pupils overly reactive to light, but not abnormal.

     “I hope he didn’t talk your leg off,” Bro said. “He’s kind of annoyin’.”

     You have terminal stupidity, I propose an immediate lobotomy to put you out of my misery.

     “Will you knock it off for ten seconds and let me eat before rippin’ me a new one?”

     It’s true. The doctor said so. You’re just stupid.

     “You were snuck up on by a creature twice your size in the wasteland,” Jade pointed out with a smirk. “Though I’m glad Hal’s giving you a positive reading. He was quite useful while we were saving you.”

     “How much did he talk,” Bro wondered aloud.

     “A bit,” she admitted. “We discussed why you were traveling, though he wasn’t that talkative about details. He let us know about Dave when you kept saying his name, in case you didn’t make it. He wanted us to be sure to let him know, and to send your other letters.”

     “You’re a long way from home,” Jake chimed in, taking a seat on the nearest bed to talk while Bro shook his head and went back to eating. “But it’s all fine now. Er.. mostly.”

     “How much do I owe you,” Bro said almost immediately, breaking a mirelurk cake in half with his fork before stuffing it into his mouth. He’d worry about manners when he wasn’t sitting in a room with two strangers who’d apparently saved his life and seen him in more detail naked than anyone else had in years.

     “We’ll figure out caps in a little bit,” Jade said. “You’re going to need to stay here a while longer either way, and we had to use a lot of your medical supplies.”

     “Helped ourselves to a little bit of your food as well, but mostly it was the chems and supplies we needed at the moment. Lucky for us you were damn near carrying a medics inventory on your back!”

     “Yeah, I just got through a vault,” Bro said. “Place hadn’t been looted yet till I got there.”

     “A vault!” Jake interjected excitedly. “Was it like they say, all sterile and eerily perfect?”

     “It was full of the people who used to live there, and they weren’t human anymore,” Bro said simply.

     It was quite a show to see that many feral ghouls get put down in one go.

     “Oh, that doesn’t sound very dapper.”

     “Vaults rarely are. They’re either fulla deadly shit, full of a shit load’a nothin’, or fulla people who don’t want you to bother them because you’re all gross from bein’ outside and they know you just want the goodies they’ve got.”

     “My grandpa was from a vault,” Jade said with a grin. “He’s the one who raised both of us, taught us everything we know.”

     They traded conversation for a time while Bro continued to eat, though it waned when he finished and looked exhausted, surprised that the very act of eating took so much energy out of him. Jake took the tray away and Jade performed a followup examination as Bro settled back tiredly on the pillows. Before she left, he requested his belongings, or what was left of them.

     He had an important letter to write.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

     Bro’s head ached sickly by the time he finished writing the letter, nearly as much as his heart, and his eyes were wet. He didn’t dare to rub at them, nor to even draaw attention to them, but the fact he’d cried while pouring his fucking soul out onto the page wasn’t something he’d admit to anyone. Hal, bless him, remained quiet aside from occasionally offering a correction on a phrase to make it sound better. At first Bro had resented the dictation, but found the changes in wording to be a positive thing, eliminating double meanings. What he ended up with was the letter he’d envisioned sending Dave when the deathclaw was about to do the killing strike, and the fewer mistakes and misunderstandings that could arise from it was for the better.

     It took another few days of resting, eating, and conversing with the doctors before Bro was strong enough to go for walks around the town. First thing was first: he paid express for his letter bundle to be sent to Dave along with some money, the most recently written one marked URGENT in bright red stamped letters. Secondly, he got himself a cola and drank the entire thing in one go. The doctors had been kind enough to spot him some clothes, since his shirt was ruined and his pants were scrapped in the moment by bloodshed and emergency bandage use on top of their general wear and tear. The down side was he hated fatigues… but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

     He was settled with another soda at the little bar and grill early one morning, having shared breakfast with Jade and Jake once more (his own recipe this time, which only Jake seemed enthusiastic about once they’d tasted the product), but wanting to just sit outside and enjoy the early morning before the sun really got going on cooking everything in the wasteland to death. Hal was quiet, watching as well he presumed based on the little target viewers moving around every time someone moved.

     What do you plan to do if you don’t get a reply?

     “Keep goin’,” he said with a shrug, taking a sip. “I’m not expecting a reply to any of my letters, but he knows which way we’re headed if he wants to write back. Kid knows how to use a map of settlements to send ahead of the curb if he wants to.”

     ...I was worried I lost you too, back there. But you’ve never once apologized to me yet.

     “Apologized for what?”

     For nearly making me watch someone I care about die. At least the first one had the decency to not die while wearinng me on his fucking face.

     Bro was pensive and stretched his long legs out from his seat before tipping it back on its hind legs, balancing in place as he took another sip.

     “I promise I won’t die while wearin’ you, then.”

     You f-

     “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you at all.”

     … That is acceptable I guess.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton Characters: Dash Baxter, Wesley Weston, OC - Character, Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, Ghost Writer (Danny Phantom), Andrew Riter Additional Tags: Soulmates, Reluctant Soulmates, countless headcanons, Not Phantom Planet Compliant, my canon now, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, will tag with progress, No Betas we die like fools Summary:

Casper High is a school that has several clubs, including the Occult Club, which Dash should've stayed very far away from no matter what Wes said. Now thanks to the conspiracy theorist, Phantom was pissed at him and the jock and hero were soulbound by a spell that Wes had fudged and Dash had mispronounced. How's he gonna make it up to his hero?

Or

The soulmates fic that only my best bro really wanted out of me, which my brain was forced to provide.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

In hindsight, Dash should've stayed away from the occult club altogether.  Sure, Wes had said they were gonna use some magick ritual they'd figured out to summon phantom, but people generally wanted to think they could do that and a club at school was the least likely to succeed.   But Weston had been confident and Dash wasn't gonna pass on an opportunity to meet his hero without an attack happening.

So he'd gone along with it, even demanded to be the one to do it when they started.  There was a chalk circle on the floor, candles, and one of em had a fuckin needle to prick themself with for it.  Whatever, Dash wasn't unused to a little pain - he busted his knuckles on nerd's faces sometimes. So he got a drop on the circle, and he said the chant, and the candles turned green instead of reddish-yellow.  But while the room went dark and cold and started looking like the night sky had come down to grab them, Dash may have fucked up a word in the book.  

There he appeared, in a flash of light so bright Dash had to squint.  Sky blue skin, a halo of white hair, freckles that glowed green and that ghost hunting hazmat suit of his.  While Phantom was looking around like he was dizzy, Dash felt something. He Saw it, even, a line of bright silver that came out of his chest and turned toxic green before ending at the DP on Phantom's chest.  Frowning, Dash looked over at the head of the club. "The fuck is this? A cord?"

"Oh no… oh no no no."  The head nerd, a brunette with glasses and a mint green shirt, grabbed the book in Dash's hand and read what he'd said.  Then his head whipped over to Wes and the basketballer backed up, his camera flashing the recording light. "You fucked up the summoning ritual!"

"Austin, I swear I was just-"

"This is a binding ritual, Wes, it binds the spirit to the target object - the circle, it looks like?"

"Pretty shitty binding," Phantom said, turning everyone's attention back to him.  The blue-faced ghost was floating all around the room, soft green inner light casting weird shadows everywhere.   "I'm nowhere near it. What is this thing between me and Dash though?"

"… Fuck."  Wes quickly played back his recording on his camera to listen to what Dash had chanted.  Dash could hear the moment he fumbled the words and Wes paled when he heard it. "That was the wrong subject word-"

"So you've bound Phantom's soul to Dash's soul now, is what I'm translating here.   Cause that, wait lemme.” Austin grabbed the camera and replayed the video a few times while Dash dealt with a sea of complicated emotions.  Confusion, shock, anger, resentment, anxiety. Those last three weren’t new per se but they felt… off. Not his. “Wes this is a permanent binding what the fuck?!”

“It wouldn’t’ve been permanent!  We coulda scuffed the circle and the thing he’s bound to would be gone!”

Phantom reached down and grabbed the ginger by his shirt, lifting him two feet off the ground.   His eyes were blue and gold and red, that dim green aura was now white and yellow and flaring up in arcs.  “So lemme get this straight, Wesley. In your insane attempts to prove me as the still-living son of ghost hunters, you decided you'd bind me to a chalk circle.  Which might bind me to the chalk itself, tearing me apart to keep myself connected to since you're a fucking hack."

"I-I-I hadn't uh thought of that, b-"

"And instead of that you let Dash, a jo- no THE Jock, read off the spell and so now you've bound me, irreversibly, to another person's soul.  Did I get that right?"

Wes nodded the slightest bit, his entire frame shaking and Dash couldn't blame him.   Dash was entirely up for pummeling Wes for fucking up his hairbrained scheme, but Phantom looked like he was about to rip Wes apart.  He had fangs and his hair was turning into a cloud of fire that sucked all the heat out of the room instead of pushing it out into everything.  Wes' shirt was frosting over and Austin and his band of merry freaks were shivering.

"When you get to the afterlife, Wes, I promise you a world of pain.  And if you do something so fucking stupid and dangerous that it risks my safety and the safety of everyone else around you again, I'm tossing you to the police by your Fucking underwear!"  Wes was dropped on his ass and Phantom growled, fading from sight. There was a Pop, all the pressure in the room shifting, and Dash rubbed his head with a groan.

"Wes you fucking idiot!  Now Phantom is pissed at me and it's your fault!"  Phantom may have decided not to give Wes what he had coming to him, Dash didn't have superpowers to worry about getting out of hand.

And so Dash had detention that day for wailing on a fellow school athlete.

“I swear I’m going to shatter his camera into a million tiny pieces and make him eat them,”  Danny growled and struggled with not breaking his locker when he slammed it shut. The lights overhead buzzed louder and shone brighter from the energy pouring out of him, and Danny took several deep breaths.  “Not only was what he wanted to do stupid and dangerous, now I’m fucking - what, Soulmates? With him?”

“Chill, Danny, I’m sure we can fix this.”  Tucker pulled his sash from around his shirt and with a flick, it became a scepter once more.  Holding out the golden rod over Danny, a look of concentration passed over the geek’s face while azure light bathed Danny’s body.  The green thread leading off toward Dash was highlighted, though the silver threads leading to Tucker, Sam and Jazz were also visible and even the blue ones trailing off to his Mom and Dad.  Tucker’s magick wrapped around his green thread and for a moment, Danny was sure that it’d be cut and all of this would be over and dealt with.

Tucker’s scepter was knocked out of his hand and clattered loudly on the tile floor of the school and the green thread shone brighter than before, seeming to have simply soaked up the magick.  Danny’s growl was deep in his chest this time, and one of the lights blew a fuse. “That’s fucking ridiculous! He just read off the spell without even knowing what it did, why would that be stronger than the Pharoah’s command?”

“The language might not be from this world, Danny.  We’ll have to ask Andrew if he knows how to undo it.”  Sam patted Danny on his shoulder and he leaned onto her, embracing the calm of her aura.  The bell rang and Danny pulled his hood over his head, pulling it shut over his face with the drawstrings.  “C’ mon, let’s get you home and we can head over to see him right now.”

Danny grumbled as he was pulled along by Sam and Tucker outside to the parking lot, where all three of them pulled out their hoverboards.  Danny mounted his star and nebulae covered creation and slipped on his helmet. The one he’d made for Tucker was gold and chrome-colored, a techno styled F on the bottom of it, while Sam’s was black with creeping vines appearing to weave all around it.  It had been fun building these boards with Tucker and personalizing them since they made flying to school easier on them all. Magnetic boots locked in place, Danny slipped on the remote control glove and took off, followed closely by his friends into the even sky to the envious stares of their schoolmates.

The only ghosts that got in their way home were Skulker and the Box Ghost, and while Boxy was easy to take down with a few well-placed shots, Danny had to split off a Phantom copy while still in human form to take down Skulker, which sucked because he didn’t have the energy to make one as strong as he normally was in ghost form.  With a kick to Skulker’s head that removed his helmet, and a swift click of the button on the Thermos, Skulker was dealt with and they headed to Fenton works.

Descending the stairs of the Fenton home to the basement lab and finding it empty was a blessing, mostly available due to Sam and her meddling in the business affairs of Fenton Works.  Getting to the Ghost Writer’s library from there was a cakewalk, and soon they were knocking on his doors.

“Andy, I have a problem and I need your help fixing it!”  Getting no reply for a moment, Danny took a deep superfluous breath and whined loudly against the door.  “Aaandyyyyy!” The door opened inward fast enough that Danny hit the floor, and grumbled something rude about Vidya playing cruel pranks on him.

“Don’t pretend that Vidya doesn’t love you about as much as she does me, Danny, you’ll never get away with a lie that flimsy.”  The baritone laughter of the Ghost Writer, otherwise known to a few as Andrew Riter, met Danny’s ears and a shark-toothed smile greeted Sam and Tucker.  The librarian in grey and purple invited them deeper in to sit on couches and cushions scattered about the shelves of the library and cups of coffee and tea set themselves down on the table before them.  “Alright, what trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?”

“This time it wasn’t one of us, actually.”  Sam nudged Danny with her boot and he slumped against Tucker, taking a long sip of his tea.  “An idiot, Wes, tried to bind him to a circle during an event that the Occult Club was performing to summon Danny, but they let Dash Baxter read it and when Danny appeared, apparently Dash stuttered the wrong words and now he and Danny are bound by the soul.  As far as we know.”

Andrew adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowed at Danny as a trio of books flew to him and Danny repeated the spell for Andrew to decipher.  “Give me a couple of days to look this one up. Artificially created Soul Bonds like that typically break with the right spell and if both parties agree to sever the link.”  Tucker groaned while Danny buried his face in his hands.

“I have to convince Dash to unlink himself with me?  Wonderful. Fuck me, I guess.”

Tucker patted the ghost boy on his shoulder and Danny whined.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

[doom-dreaming]

College AU - Margaritas, Mal, and Moze

@marigold-magpie HERE IT IS AND IT’S....it got away from me. and it’s more the girls making fun of Troy than anything else, honestly. also i’ve edited and edited this and i’m still not totally happy with it, but   w h a t e v e r

(Read it here on Ao3!)

“Ooh…margaritas!” Sasha practically pounced all the way from the door to the nearest blender.

“Courtesy of your selfless donations…” Tyreen tapped her knife against the edge of each as she listed them. “We got strawberry, lime, and…” She dipped her finger into the last one. “…peach! If you want some variety.”

“Straight tequila shots?”

Tyreen snatched the bottle away from Fiona’s wandering hand. “Nuh uh. We wanna have fun, not get shitfaced. Besides…” she tilted the bottle, frowning. “Miiiight not have enough for the rest of the mix—”

“What’s up, nerds?!”

“Funny, coming from you.” Tyreen raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up from the lime she was slicing.

Gaige huffed out a half-offended sound. “At least I’m not majoring in sociology, or whatever.” She dumped her backpack beside the couch. “What’re you gonna do with that, anyway?”

“Start a cult?”

“Yeah, good luck. I’ve seen your ECHOgram, you’ve only got, like, 500 followers.”

“Compared to your…what, fifty?” Tyreen leveled a smug grin at the redhead’s pout. “Nice try.” She licked the lime juice from her fingers and waved the knife at Moze, who was still standing semi-awkwardly near the door. “Just make yourself comfy, hon. Nothin’s off-limits. Except Troy’s room, but you don’t wanna go in there, anyway.”

“Uh…speaking of Troy…“ Sasha’s voice drifted over from the couch. "He’s got more followers than both of you.” She held up her phone. “743.”

Simultaneous cries of indignance flooded the small room.

“What the FUCK—”

“How in the hell—” Gaige beelined for the couch, her drink forgotten. Without hesitation, she vaulted over the back and landed next to Sasha. “I didn’t even know he had one! Lemme see. Oh, Ty, it’s you!”

Tyreen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Drunk karaoke? Yeah…” She moodily garnished her drink and joined the rest of them. “I just don’t get how he has more…” She mellowed into grumbling as she curled up on a chair in the corner of the room. “…fucker.”

Gaige snickered, popping back to her feet to retrieve her drink. “The fatal weakness in your perfect sibling relationship, huh?”

“I’m not that jealous, I just, y’know, spend hours doing tutorials and editing the videos and he records thirty seconds of me singing 'Hey, Mama’ after a dozen shots and…” She glowered at Sasha. “You and Fi would never—”

Fiona’s loud laughter cut her off. “Oh, I definitely would.”

Sasha agreed with a disappointed nod.

Tyreen sighed. “It’s petty and it shouldn’t bother me, but…”

“But that’s why we’re here,” Fiona reminded. “To drink and bitch!”

“To drink and bitch!” the rest of them echoed, raising their glasses.

“Or just drink,” Moze piped.

Fiona smirked. “I knew I liked you.”

“I mean, I just got here and so far? No complaints.”

Gaige plopped down beside her on the floor and patted her arm. “Valid.”

“Okay, then I’ll start.” Fiona took a long drink before setting the glass carefully onto the coffee table. “So...my ex—”

A collective groan rose from the group.

“—yeah, he swore up and down that he wouldn’t start shit with Rhys, but what does he do?” She didn’t let the question hang long. “Starts shit with Rhys!”

Sasha kicked her feet up. “Guy’s a fucking asshole. I don’t know what you ever saw in him, honestly.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us. Rhys is a dumbass, but at least he’s not a lying, cheating—”

The front door of the apartment opened just loudly enough to bring the conversation to a halt. Troy shuffled in with his bag hanging off of one arm and his jacket bundled in the other, oblivious to anyone else. He kicked the door shut, abandoned his bag next to the kitchen counter, and made it halfway across the apartment before Tyreen cleared her throat.

“…what’cha got there, bro?”

“Uh…”

“You look kinda...guilty.”

“No, I, um…” He tossed his hair. Readjusted his glasses. Heaved a defeated sigh. "...it's a cat.” Sure enough, the jacket mewled.

Instant mayhem.

“A cat?!”

“Don’t get it near me! I forgot to take my allergy meds!”

“I hope you don’t want to keep it—”

“Everybody shut the fuck up, you’re scaring him.” Troy elbowed his way past his sister, toward the coffee table. “I found him around the back of the building. We don’t have to keep him, I just figured I’d get him outta the cold." He set the jacket down, pulled back a few loosely-folded layers, and extracted a wiggling orange kitten. “Buuuut…I might’ve named him already…“

“Troy…”

He tucked the kitten to his chest, looking offended. "Just for tonight, Ty, I promise. In the morning I’ll take him to the shelter—don’t look at me like that.” He grabbed his jacket from the table and turned on his heel. “I’m gonna give him a bath.”

“Troy, you know campus policy—”

“Fuck campus policy! I’m not putting him back out!” The slam of the bathroom door sounded like an exclamation mark.

“Don’t get rabies!” Sasha called after him.

“Bold of you to assume he doesn’t already have it…” Tyreen dropped her head into her hands. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

Gaige’s grin was too wide to be innocent. “Hey, Troy! What’s his name!?”

“Mal!” came the muffled reply, followed by a sharp, “Oh, shit—ow!”

“Cute!”

“Stop encouraging him,” Tyreen groaned. “I’m at least ninety percent of his impulse control and I don’t need you making things worse.” She paused, then let her head fall back with a weary sigh. “But I guess as far as breakup behavior goes, rescuing a cat is better than rebounding…”

“How bad was that breakup, anyway?”

“Lethal, based on how he’s acting.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I…shouldn’t be mean. Troy gets invested. I think he was waaaay more into it than August was—”

Sasha nearly choked on her drink.

“You good?”

She brushed off Fiona’s back-patting. “Yeah, I’m good, I’m good. Just—” cough “—went the wrong way. All good.”

“You should let him have a couple drinks with us,” Moze suggested. “Maybe—”

Four voices shouted, “No!” in unison.

“Or…not?”

Tyreen huffed. “You know how most people have an alcohol tolerance? Troy has an alcohol intolerance. That first day you met us? Yeah, he was fucking trashed ‘cause he spent the whole night trying to drown his broken heart.”

Troy’s voice drifted out from behind the bathroom door. “…I heard that!”

“It’s not a secret!” Tyreen yelled back.

Troy grumbled something inaudible, then emerged. Shirtless. The kitten squirmed inside a towel. “Little dude scratches like a motherfucker… Someone wanna hold him while I…?” He motioned to the red slices across his chest with his free hand.

Tyreen glanced around the group. Fiona was still holding her hand over her nose and mouth, shaking her head. Moze was…definitely focused on Troy’s abs. “Anyone?” Gaige and Sasha just shrugged. She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re trying to trick me into keeping this cat, I swear to God… Fine. Hand him over.”

“You don't have to make such a huge fucking deal out of it,” Troy complained.

Tyreen's glare was downright scathing. “Then apparently you don't remember the baby bird. Or the snake. Or the—”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Just take the cat.” He pushed the towel into her hands. “I swear it's only for tonight.”

“I don't believe you…!” she sang at his retreating back. He flipped her off before shutting the bathroom door again. She rolled her eyes.

Moze's voice was the first to break the silence. “So, uh...didn't know Troy wears glasses.”

“He doesn't, usually. But—oh no, no way—” Tyreen intercepted the kitten as it made an attempt to escape. “—he's blind as shit—”

“Heard that too!”

“—and wears contacts most the time.” She cocked an eyebrow at Moze. “But be honest, that's not what you were lookin’ at.”

The younger girl's face flushed a shade darker. She stirred at her drink, mumbling, “Just didn't expect he'd be…”

“Like that?” Gaige filled in. “Yeah, I didn't expect it either the first time—” She cut herself off abruptly. “Uh.”

“The first time what...?” Sasha asked cautiously.

Tyreen rolled her eyes, aware that she was the only one not acting like Gaige had just confessed to murder. “They hooked up. It was, like, a year ago.”

“WHAT?!”

“It was at an engineering thing! We were both drunk!” Gaige shrieked in an attempt to defend herself. “Neither of us remember anything about it! It just sorta..." She gestured helplessly. "We woke up with, like, half our clothes on the floor and honestly I wouldn't have believed anything happened except I had dried c—”

“OH MY GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Troy yelled. “Literally no one needs to know the details!”

“Yeah, I'm with him on that,” Sasha admitted, her expression sour.

Tyreen attempted to hide a snicker behind her hand. Her unoccupied hand. The hand that wasn't scratching the kitten behind the ears. “The only reason I found out was ‘cause as soon as he got back and had his head in the toilet, he started cryin’ about it—”

Troy stalked out of the bathroom, scowling. “I was not crying—”

“You were crying and puking and—”

“And now I'm leaving. Gimme the cat—wait, are you petting—?”

“Shut up. Take him.” The kitten, lulled by Tyreen's attention, gave a confused ‘mrrrp?’ as he was roused by yet another handoff. “Go...listen to some music or something.”

“So you can tell more lies about me? I see how it is.”

“Oh my God, would you just take your emotional support animal and go, already? Please?”

“C'mon, Mal,” Troy sniffed. “We don't need them anyway.”

Tyreen gulped down the rest of her drink as he disappeared into his room, half in an attempt to not snark back at him and half in an attempt to get buzzed. “Anyone want refills?” she sighed once he closed the door.

Fiona silently raised her empty glass.

“You know, you're the only one here with a brother,” Gaige mused.

“And ain't I lucky,” Tyreen drawled, taking Fiona's glass and slouching back into the kitchen. “I mean...I love him, obviously. But he's a pain in the ass.” She paused, cocking her head toward his bedroom door. “Okay, I think we're good. He can't hear us. What'd you have, Fi? Lime?”

“Yep.”

“So...should I or should I not try to...y'know.” Moze clicked her tongue and nodded in the direction of Troy's room.

“If you wanna go out with my brother, you have my blessing. Or...whatever. But...maybe don't go for the kill immediately? Give him some time. Get to know him first.”

“More like know what you're getting into,” Gaige joked.

“I...think I've got a pretty good idea.”

Tyreen tuned them out and took another long drink of her margarita. Troy's follower count was starting to make sense.

****** @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @vanillabuttercreamm @anni000001 @imchaoticnerd @pepper-demon 

[chokefriends]

Hall Pass

ZoSan modern AU fragment with cute boyfriend banter and light bondage. It's just 3+ kinds of trash, porny, giddy and fluffy, I cant stand myself 

Explicit, no warnings.

Read below or on AO3, I’m Ossicle!

Sanji blew through Zoro's front door swinging his keys on one finger, wearing a bloody oxford and a slightly frantic look.

“Mossman, I need a lemon zester and one hell of a hall pass.”

Zoro paused mid-crunch, hanging by the knees in the kitchen doorway, and took out one blaring ear bud. “...Whose ass??”

“Idiot. Move.”

Zoro crunched up so Sanji could get by underneath him. He checked his watch. Weird… the workaholic never left his shop before eight if he could help it. Sanji ran this artisanal butcher shop / charcuterie / whatever, the hipster kind with twelve different ground meat mixtures on ‘tap’ and all these tatted-up, lumberjack-looking shop boys manfully wrangling sausage links in the shopfront. Hence the blood-spattered shirt—chronic nosebleeds.

Zoro twisted around to watch the blond ransack his kitchen drawers, apparently for some ass-related thing.

“Turkey baster somewhere in there, if that's—”

Sanji stopped and shot him a look. “What? No. I'm looking for a lemon zester. And a hall pass… which, let me just say, I VERY fucking deserve after this hell week…”

Zoro plugged the earbud back in and resumed his upside down workout routine. Sanji was just getting himself into one of his rambling Sanji States. Probably just work-related; probably not requiring Zoro's input… He crunched and counted until, a few reps later, a blue eye was suddenly glaring in front of his face.

Sanji tugged an ear bud out of Zoro’s head.

“Lemon zester.”

Zoro dangled, and thought carefully. “The vibrating thing?”

“NO, you houseplant. The thing that's like a cheese grater but with little bitty teeth.”

“...and whose ass is this for?”

Sanji threw the earbud down and went back to tearing apart the kitchen.

Zoro swung down from the door-mounted bar and left him to it. He took a quick shower, and settled in the sectional couch with his sweatpants on and a pile of physio grading next to him. This class he was TAing for was fuckin brutal, tests every week and three exams, all graded by a small team of grad students who were rumored to be robots but were actually masochists. Just constant work; Zoro loved it.

Sanji finally found what he was after and slid over the top of the couch to join the stoic gradbot. He held his prize and looked at Zoro, eyebrows raised expectantly. This usually meant that he thought Zoro was being too stoic and should say something.

“...Bitty cheese grater,” Zoro commented.

“It’s a lemon zester.”

“For what.”

“Getting laid,” Sanji stated matter-of-factly.

Well. It wasn't the weirdest come-on the erratic gourmand had ever tried.

“Okay.” Zoro pulled the pert ass into his lap and went for it.

“Heyhey, hold it, hooold it, that’s not what I came here to… or actually… yeah, hm…” Sanji trailed off as strong hands grabbed at him greedily. His belt buckle clunked to the floor.

“Heh. Lemon zester…” Zoro shook his head. “You don’t have to stash all your weird kitchen stuff here just for an excuse to come over anymore. You know that right, Cook?”

“I know! Just… habit…”

“Mhm.” Zoro focused on the deepening arch of the back in front of him. He pulled the shirttails free and let his hands wander up underneath.

Sanji cleared his throat and tried to focus. “I was tryna ask for a thing, though. Uh…”

“Yeah? Something in particular?”

“Oh yeah, hall pass.”

Zoro paused for a second in case Sanji felt like making this easy and just saying what the hell that was. But the guy was either being coy or was getting distracted by the hand in his pants.

“That a position?” Zoro prompted.

“Hm? No, it's… do you seriously not know what a hall pass is?” Sanji looked over his shoulder.

“Well, sorry if I don't know all the gay lingo like some scene queens—”

He could just feel the force of Sanji's eyeroll. “It's not even! It's such a straight boy thing, you've definitely heard it, bro-y scene like yours. Like ‘bruuuh, Vegas bruh, got a hall pass from the ol ball and chain,’ ugh.”

Zoro frowned. “Great. So am I the bro or the ball and chain.”

Sanji clambered around to face him instead. “Oh my god don't be ugh about it. I'm just observing how your muscle nerd crowd is a whole thing. Don't get off-topic.”

“Well you're the one calling people bros, so—”

“Well you're the one going to grad school for gym, so.”

Sanji crossed his arms. He was doing his pout thing, as though Zoro was the one being difficult. And he was still all disheveled and covered in blood… A familiar tic went through Zoro's eye at the exact same time as that other tic went through his dick.

“Other way. Face the other fuckin way.” Zoro turned the blond away from him and got back to work on his pants.

“Nope, you're dealing with this FACE.” Sanji stubbornly resisted.

They ended up on the floor really quickly, as usual, Sanji trying to mush his face against Zoro’s, and the latter trying to pin him facedown. It did kinda seriously irritate Zoro that his superior crunch power didn’t seem to count for anything against the noodle-boned butcher. The guy knew it, too, and liked to aggravate his sparring partner with non-standard moves.

“If I give you a forehead-hickey, I win,” the clinging blond declared.

“NO.”

“C’mere, sexy forehead.”

“NO.”

It fuckin paid off once Zoro did get him under control, though. The satisfaction was nigh euphoric. This time Zoro got the butcher’s hands behind his back and a knee in his spine, and Sanji gave up his squirming with a laugh. He hmmed against the rug and allowed his hands to be secured with the ever-ready bandana. He was hard and eager when Zoro turned him back over and settled heavily overtop of him, smothering him with a deep kiss.

“It’s been a second,” Sanji breathed when Zoro let up.

“Yeah. I’ll go slow.”

“Mm. Kay but how about not slow.”

“Heh…”

Zoro went ahead and ignored that request. He liked to draw out the lead-in once he’d gotten to this point, to get back at the guy for all his ridiculous shit, but also because Sanji just got more and more fuckable the more desperate and disheveled he got.

Sanji blew his long curtain of blond hair out of his eyes and glared down at the too-slow proceedings between his knees. “Put the fucking dick in your mouth, fucking put. The fucking dick. In your fucking… ah!… fuck, ah…”

That was the third finger, and Zoro let himself grin a little. He watched the long limbs tense and un-tense as he eased his hand in and out. He gave the needy dick another swift, brief massage with his tongue, and stifled a laugh when Sanji kicked him.

“You want me to fucking beg??”

“Yeah, I’m a fan of that,” Zoro nodded his encouragement.

“DICK IN YOUR MOUTH.”

“That’s not begging…”

“DICK,” Sanji insisted.

Zoro laughed and came up to kiss the irate butcher. “...Dick??”

“Dick.”

With his slight smile widening into a full-on grin, Zoro got up so he was straddling Sanji’s shoulders. The blue eye widened, “Not THAT di—hhhhnnnck”

“Hm what?”

Sanji gave a deeply sarcastic roll of his eyes. He couldn’t say much else, though.

Zoro eased in deeper, feeling himself gradually hardening in the wet mouth with its quick tongue.

“C’mon, get me hard.” He pulled back a little so Sanji could swallow and adjust his head, then pushed in deep enough to nudge the back of his throat. “C’mon. You want me to fuck your throat? Suck.”

A cocky eyebrow challenged him to do just that, and Zoro obliged. He watched the smooth lips strain around his cock and the blue eyes start to water. Zoro fit a hand around the back of his neck and angled it way up, so he could hold him still and fuck down into his face. Sanji started making those urgent sounds he was after, and he felt himself edging already… fuck.

“Mm! Mmmm!!… ah!” Sanji’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth wide open, gasping air, as Zoro pulled out of his mouth and hurried to get a condom on and lube himself up.

“Face or floor?”

“Face, cuz deal with it,” Sanji determined, stubborn streak still fully intact despite his flustered flush.

“Fair.” Zoro left him on his back.

He parted the well-toned thighs and braced a hand on each one, pressing Sanji's legs so wide apart they were touching the floor. God, this body was just made to be fucked, it was so smooth and yielding. Zoro’s dick found the tight hole, and it opened up around him just as smoothly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, steadying himself, “I can’t believe how flexible you are. I could do anything to you…”

Sanji made a little scoffing noise between heavy breaths. “Think you could you shut up and fuck me, though?”

Zoro leaned into him suddenly and heavily, without answering. That got a harsh intake of breath, but it wasn’t yet the desperate gasping he was going for. He canted his hips and dragged out frustratingly slow. He really wanted to let go and just… fucking pound the hell out of the trim, pliable body. Just as much as Sanji wanted him to do it. But he was the disciplined one, here, and also, holding out on the other was a pleasure in itself.

He slid into that perfect heat over and over, deliberate and deep, until the blond’s voice got that wild edge to it. He was as vocal when he was being fucked as the rest of the time, and it got to Zoro just as much. In a good way—Zoro usually prided himself on being all quietly composed during sex, but Sanji had this way of completely letting himself go, and taking the other with him.

“Zoro, Z-zoro ah! Ahh!”

“Shit… ah, fuck, Cook…” Zoro gathered up both legs and hooked them over his shoulder, so he could fold Sanji almost in half and sink straight down into him. Their faces were close together, they were breathing each other’s air, hardly even hearing what was being gasped out between breaths. Sanji was saying something like “Want you, want you, want you,” and Zoro was probably just saying “Cook” and “fuck,” but even he wasn’t sure.

“I’m gonna come,” Zoro gasped out finally.

“Fuckin cmon then, ah…”

It felt like he could just come and come like this. Everything was so tight and hot, Sanji was kissing him and he was getting lightheaded. Zoro waited until his ears stopped ringing and his blood pressure went down a little. He opened his eyes to Sanji’s flushed face, still glassy-eyed with need. He loosened the bandana and shuffled down to put that dick in his mouth, as requested.

“Yes… fuck…” Sanji twisted out of the ties and crossed his arms under his head, shuffling until he was comfortable.

They’d been fucking for a few months now, more and more regularly, and Zoro pretty much knew how to get him off any time. It was better to make him wait a little, though. Winding the guy up so tight like this, he'd go over the edge like a ton of bricks. Zoro swallowed him down smoothly and then pulled back off until he was massaging the head with his tongue, sucking hard. He jammed two fingers into his ass at the same time, hard and even, like Sanji wanted when he was close. And he was so, so close right now… He’d hooked both legs over Zoro’s shoulders and was hanging on, tensed and swearing.

He came and was wordless for a full minute while Zoro worked every last drop out of him with the same steady insistence.

“...Unnh… hh…”

Zoro grinned to himself a little as he caught it all in his mouth. Catching Sanji’s eye, he licked stray drops from his fingers and swallowed it all with deliberate relish.

“Fuck… that’s hot,” Sanji commented, letting out a spent laugh and flexing the feeling back into his toes.

“Mm…” Zoro sighed and sat up to consider his own state. His dick was half-hard again, come leaking down inside the condom. He watched Sanji lying back and trying to recover his head, still all hazy and addled with pleasure. So fucking fuckable.

He pulled the blond over by the arm and nipped his ear.

“Ah!”

“Can I do it hard?”

“I dunno. Can you?” Sanji needled him. “Ow.”

Zoro gave a soothing suck at the chomped ear. “I dunno, can I?”

“Haha… mmm. Floor?”

“Yeah…” Zoro moved on to sucking at his neck urgently, massaging what was now a fully hard erection.

Sanji laughed at him. He turned over facing the floor and braced on his forearms while Zoro fit a new condom on. “I should make you beg instead. Shitty dog, practically humping my leg.”

He quieted for a moment as Zoro pushed him flat and ground into him in one insistent push.

Sanji steadied himself and chuckled, “Ahh… haha. Here, boy. Now sit—mff!”

Lying atop of him like this, Zoro had his hands free, so he clamped one over Sanji’s mouth.

“Shhh… stay. Good boy.”

Sanji huffed an outraged sigh through his nose at the order. But by the way he moaned into Zoro's hand and arched his back into Zoro's driving thrusts, he was probably gonna come again soon.

“Why do you always wanna cuddle on the floor?” Sanji teased him, afterward. “There’s pillows right up there. I got them for a reason.”

“Just stay still a second,” Zoro mumbled from somewhere between Sanji's shoulder blades, thick arms wrapped around the narrow waist.

“I wanna smoke.” Sanji was already fidgeting and trying to get up.

Zoro tightened his arms so he was stuck.

“Why the floor, is all I'm saying,” Sanji objected.

“Well you're the one who likes to fuck on the floor, so.”

“Well you're the one who flips furniture when they get too into it, so.”

Zoro grinned to himself. “Yeah… You make yourself hell to wrangle, to be fair.” He shifted up a little so he could hook his chin over Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji laughed. “You like it.”

“Mm. I like fucking you into the ground, yeah.”

“Ah...” Sanji shifted and exhaled sharply at the lips on his neck. “You angling for another round? That why we're still down here in the fuck zone?”

“Nah, just comfortable.” Zoro let up his hold a little, so Sanji could turn in his arms and settle in facing him. “Hey, so what's this ass thing you want?”

“Hall. Pass.” Sanji sighed, and then swallowed. He was suddenly tense in Zoro's arms. “Uh. So first of all, the lemon zester. I need it to lend to this… individual? So I have an excuse to go over and say heyy? Cuz earlier he was kinda like, heyyyy, lookin for a lemon zester. And this is NOT how I normally do things, okay. I'm pretty much the king of cling. But this guy is Christian Slater-level exceptional, and it'll be just once because honestly I'm getting a Christian-Slater-in-Heathers vibe more than anything and that is a sometimes-food…”

Zoro listened for a while, then counted to ten once he'd gotten lost, and tried to get back into the conversation. “...what?”

Sanji frowned. “What part is unclear.”

“The… hall pass.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sanji muttered to the ceiling.

“No, literally just use words that go together.”

“I have been! I've been so patient and thorough!”

Zoro reached for his sweatpants, lying on Sanji's other side. “I'll just fucking Google it. Gimme my phone.”

“N-no wait. Uh!” Sanji extended a long leg and kicked the pants across the room.

“...This is getting weird,” Zoro growled, getting up. “Did you not eat all day again? You know it's real ironic how often you forget to feed yourself.”

“I did forget but that's not the issue here!”

“Let go of my leg.”

“No!”

Zoro sighed at the weirdo hugging his ankle. “Okay. What's a hall pass.”

“It's when you ask your otherwise committed, exclusive partner for a one-time go-ahead to bang someone else because Christian Slater wants to get in your pants and it's a fucking sin to pass that up!”

Zoro sat down heavily on the couch. Sanji slowly came to sit next to him, legs folded and hands in lap.

“One-time,” Sanji insisted. “Christian Slater.”

“...actual Christian Slater?”

“Oh, uh, no, I just mean he's really hot and kinda weird.”

Zoro rubbed his head, his mind grappling with several, very urgent aspects of this matter. There was one part that really stuck out, though.

“So you'd say we're… exclusive? And stuff?” Zoro wondered, a little wild-eyed.

Sanji frowned. “Aren't we? Wait, are you—”

“Nono, I'm not seeing anyone else. I just mean like, we're… in a committed thing? You'd say?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sanji confirmed, just realizing that he'd maybe skipped several steps in this whole talk. “Yeah, like, dating.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sanji was getting flustered again. “I mean, I guess I don't know if you wanna be… that way. We don't have to. It's so status quo, right? Ugh, haha, very not radical haha…”

“Nono, it's good. That's good.”

Zoro wasn't sure what else to say, and Sanji was looking at him expectantly, so he gave him a little peck.

Sanji seemed to accept this. “Okay good. Good talk. Um. So… all of it is good?”

“All of what.”

“Can I… the hall pass?”

Zoro frowned and thought. “Oh that. I don't know. I need to think some more.”

Sanji shuffled a little and Zoro realized he was stealing a look at the clock. “How much more.”

“Well more than a few fucking minutes!”

“Hour?”

“You're planning to go right now??”

“I was… Um.” Blue eyes wandered around the room. “Or not. If that's weird.”

“You’re weird. You're always so weird.” Zoro grumbled, trapping him in another bear hug and toppling them both to the couch. Sanji huffed but Zoro held on, an unfamiliar feeling making him stubborn.

Sanji waited til the count of ten, then went about disentangling himself from the other, anxious for a smoke.

“Let go of my leg,” Sanji complained.

“No.”

“Are you getting clingy?”

“No…”

He laughed. “Monosyllabic Marimo.”

Zoro wasn't budging on the time-to-think issue, so Sanji had to message whoever it was to postpone the lemon zester handoff. He'd already delegated things at the shop, so he actually had a rare evening free. He made snacks, and Zoro dragged the duvet over to the couch.

“So Christian Slater is a psychopath,” Zoro offered his thoughts on the nonsense movie they were watching, “But also, the Heathers seem like a high school Resident Evil situation. I'd purge with fire too.”

“Um, Christian Slater is a misunderstood super sweetheart with a minor murder problem,” Sanji objected. “And the Heathers are fabulous beyond reproach.”

“Her scrunchie matches her lipstick,” Zoro complained.

“That’s how you know she's a powerbitch.”

“I could tell from the shoulder pads.”

They watched Christian Slater shoot some more frat boys.

“Okay, not terrible,” Zoro approved by the end. “But I'm not convinced that Christian Slater should be allowed to fuck anyone, let alone MY otherwise exclusive, committed… thing.”

“You can say boyfriend,” Sanji offered.

“... 'Boyfriend,’” Zoro tried the word out, and immediately felt that stubbornness spike again. “Hmph.”

“Well this actual guy’s not a psycho killer, okay? He just… likes to give the impression that he is?”

“You're not selling this super well,” Zoro informed him.

Sanji considered the matter. “Well, what if you met the guy and saw that he was okay? You might already know him, actually, we have friends in common.”

“I doubt that,” Zoro grouched. “Who is it then.”

“Okay so you know your stupid orc-looking friend with the hair?”

Zoro spat out his cucumber water. “KIDD is Christian Slater??”

“Oh my god NO. It's his boy-thing, not him. As if I'd let that get its dick in me, plllease. He literally clanks when he walks.”

“He’d just be getting his dick in you by proxy,” Zoro put on his own pout face. “And I didn't know he had a boy-thing.”

“Yeah, apparently Christian Slater is into orc ass…”

Something occurred to Zoro. “This guy's a top?”

Sanji thought. “I guess…? He made it pretty clear how he'd like to do me in particular, so I assume—”

“Whoooaa, what if Kidd's a bottom,” Zoro interrupted.

“Hah. I doubt it. He’s always talking like he's the one getting his dick in everyone and everything… Christian Slater’s probably vers.”

“Nope, Kidd's a pillow-biter, it's settled,” Zoro settled back smugly. “And I can leg-press more than him.”

He got a pillow thrown at his smug green head by an exasperated boyfriend. “Yeah, yeah, you're supreme dick, dumbass. Biggest, sweatiest package around. Fucking typical top...”

“Damn right,” Zoro caught the next pillow. “Well I'm feeling rosier about this whole hall pass thing.”

Sanji paused with a cushion in hand and raised a flawless eyebrow. “Really? I literally just had to talk up your little guy?”

“Yeah, heh. Just make sure Christian Slater knows how monster this meat be.” Zoro patted his junk.

“I’ll bring it to his attention,” Sanji shook his head. But then he laughed and put his head on Zoro's lap. “Boyfriend,” he murmured.

“Boyfriend,” Zoro affirmed.

[corvid-knight]

Shitty Feelings and Cuddly Idiots

Dave's having a bad day; Karkat does what he does best: talks him into a slightly better one.

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615118)

TG: need you over here

CG: LIKE YOU'RE MOVING MOVIE NIGHT TO YOUR ROOM INSTEAD OF MINE?

TG: yeah TG: sure TG: karkat please just get your ass over here TG: ill fucking pay you if thats what you want TG: i need you where i can wrap my stupid self around you right now okay TG: you know how you steal my cape? well you dont gotta do that today because you can just pretend im the cape TG: need you

CG: HEY. CG: CALM DOWN. I'M COMING OVER RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR.

TG: trying TG: doesnt work

CG: WHAT DOESN'T?

TG: calming down TG: youre coming?

CG: FIVE MINUTES. COUNT THEM OFF.

You don't think it's going to take you five minutes, but counting the time down will calm Dave at least a little, you think. It usually works; that's one of the ways you use to talk him down from his too-fucking-frequent panic attacks, reorient him on when and where he is when his mind slips a little out of time.

Maybe that's what's wrong now—just him disassociating. You don't think so, though. He texts differently when that happens, either terse and perfectionist or even more rambling than usual, full of misspellings. This time, he just seems upset. A little frantic.

Fuck, you hope this isn't the aftermath of some kind of Time fiasco again. You hate those, not just because you know each of them adds another dead Dave to the dreambubbles but because your Dave, the one who's left, has to process the aftermath of dying every fucking time. He hides it, or he thinks he hides it, but you know how he wakes up stifling screams and grabbing for you, sleeptalk spilling out of him and letting you know how much he blames himself for every doomed timeline.

It's not fucking fair.

You cross your fingers that today's shitshow doesn't involve time shenanigans and push the door to Dave's respiteblock open, slipping inside as quietly as you can (not very) and blinking a few times as you close it behind you, letting your eyes adjust to how dark he has it in here. "Dave?"

"Karkat." Yep, there he is on the floor by the couch, tangled up in his own caps and two or three blankets that he hauled off said piece of furniture. His shades are off—not really a surprise; when he has most of the lights off it's usually so he can ditch the eyewear without being in pain—and as you take a step toward him he drags his sleeve across his face before reaching up for you. "Hey. Sorry."

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Lifting him off the floor is easy; Dave doesn't let you pick him up often, and it's always a surprise how fucking light he is. This time, he curls against you as you sit down on the couch, settling on your lap and burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Actually no, don't shut up, but don't waste your fucking breath on stupid-ass apologies either. What's going on? How bad is it?"

The pained whining sound he makes suggests that it's pretty fucking bad, but he just mumbles, "I'm sorry for calling you over for nothing, dumbass..."

"Nothing?" You want to growl offendedly at Dave, point out that there's no such thing as him calling you over for nothing. If he just wants to hang out, if he decides he needs to watch a movie with you, if he wants to show you prophetic patterns in fucking spilled apple juice, you'd come to him in a heartbeat. You want to make it known that there's nothing here for him to be sorry for.

But that'd become an argument, and while usually you'd love to snipe back and forth with him until you're both mutually annoyed enough to end the argument by cuddling up with a movie, right now that's the last thing Dave needs. So you just shrug, card your fingers through his hair, and offer one questioning chirp.

He's silent for a long minute. You can feel him relaxing, so slowly and in such small increments that he's probably not aware of it.

Finally, "I feel. Like shit."

That's a complete statement in and of itself, but it still raises so fucking many questions. You know that if you ask them, there's a pretty fucking good chance that Dave'll just clam up, pretend that there's absolutely nothing wrong.

Well, try to pretend. You know him too well for that to have a chance of working.

So more waiting. Patience isn't a natural thing for you, but you can manage it for him.

"I shouldn't...feel bad," he says haltingly, after another minute or so. He keeps his face tucked up against you, where he doesn't have to let you see him. Like he's ashamed of whatever emotion's showing there. "Like...fuck, man, nothing's going to shit now. Everything's good, everything's fine, no one's dying and everything is fucking safe, you know? And I'm. Here. Feeling like...like I should fucking tear myself apart, like I am tearing myself apart from the fuckin' inside, do you get it? I want—I feel like I'm dying, like dying makes sense right now, like that's what's supposed to happen, what should happen, what—what I—"

"Dave. Dave, shush. Shush." Normally, you'd let him talk himself to a stop, but that's obviously not really going to happen today. He stills after a moment of shushing and gentle hair-petting, at least, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to go limp against you. "You're not fucking dying. Right?"

"No, but it feels—"

"Shhh. Bad, right? It feels bad."

"Fuckin' awful, horrible." And a shaky laugh, maybe at the inadequacy of bad next to how fucked up he is.

"Does it get better when I'm here with you?"

Dave doesn't even hesitate. "Hell yes."

You can't help the immediate possessive/pleased growling purr that rumbles up from your chest as he tightens his grip on you. Dave obviously appreciates it, too; he sighs, leaning his head against your chest to hear it better, and because it obviously calms him you try to keep the purr going as loudly as you're capable of.

"You're supposed to fucking call me when you need me," you tell him softly, hearing how your own purring smooths out the rough edges in your voice. "Not when you can't fucking stand the shit in your head any longer. You call me when you think things are starting to get bad. Let me try to keep you from spinning out like this."

"I can't," he whispers, and presses his face against your sweatshirt again. This time, you feel telltale dampness and know it's because he's crying. "Can't, fucking—stupid, I know I'm stupid, I let it get this far and I don't even think—"

"Shush. You're not stupid. I can call you an idiot, because I don't fucking mean it. You're not allowed to think you're stupid."

Dave hesitates, then nods slightly, huffing out a sigh. He's quiet for another minute or so, just holding onto you.

Then, "...hey."

"Mm?"

"What if. This is how I am? Just, like, if there's nothing to fight, nothing to worry about, no—no danger? What if this is normal for me? What if Bro knew that, if that's why he was always such a fucking bastard—because he knew I'd, I'd get more fucked up if he r-raised me like a fuckin' normal kid—"

His voice cracks on the last word, and when you shoosh him he gratefully goes quiet. "It's not normal for you."

"What if it is? Dude, I remember—when I was a fucking kid, feeling shitty right around when he'd come home, what if—"

"Does it feel like that? Like your bro's coming home?"

"I—" Dave makes a considering noise, pulling back just a little to frown up at you thoughtfully. "...kinda. But—"

"You know what flashbacks are, right?" God fucking damn it Rose should be the one helping him through this. You barely know what you're doing.

"Yeah, of course I know how those feel, but that ain't what this is, dude."

"Why not?"

"Because—" He shakes his head, groping for words for a second, then very obviously gives up. "Because? It's not? There wasn't a fucking trigger, there's gotta be a reason for my mental shit to act up. This is me being fucked up in the head, is all."

"Oh my fucking god." You give him a Look. It's an expression you learned from Rose, you think; it conveys the general feeling of you're being very stupid but I can't say that out loud really fucking well. "'Mental shit' as opposed to 'being fucked up in the head?' Are you really saying that you're going to try and fucking differentiate between those two?"

Dave just stares back at you blankly for a moment. "There's PTSD shit, and then there's shit I don't have an excuse for—"

"You don't have to have an excuse, idiot!" You let yourself get probably too loud there, and try to apologize for it by kissing Dave's forehead. From the genuinely pleased smile he gives you, it's an acceptable apology. "Who says the shitty feelings aren't your fucking trauma kicking in again?"

"It just isn't."

"Did you ask Rose if it can present like that? Did you talk to her about it at all?" You already know he didn't; you won't force him to answer those questions. "This isn't just you being broken for no reason. We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Mhm." Dave nods and loosens his grip on you enough to lean over and snag the remote from between the sofa cushions, offering it to you. "...thanks, man. Is a movie enough payment for the whole trying-to-fix-me thing?"

"You know I'd do it for free." You roll your eyes at him and hit the correct sequence of buttons to get the TV on and playing whatever he has in the DVD player, raising your eyebrows at the sight of human Leonardo DiCaprio onscreen. "You were watching Titanic?"

He just groans and leans up against you. "Shut the fuck up."

"Nope. I'm too amazed that you finally grew a sense of taste."

"I only watch it because it reminds me of you, asshole."

"Fuck, that's even better." You grin at him and lean down to kiss the corner of his mouth, he turns his head just enough that you catch his lips full-on, and both you and Dave relax against each other as the movie really gets started.

You can't help but be fucking amazed that this is where you are, even though you spend so much time just like this, curled up somewhere with Dave. All the crazy shit you went though, and somehow you ended up right where you belonged. Right where he needs you to be.

It's fucking insane.

You'd never want it any other way.

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Nightmare Before Christmas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3p5FvEW

by DespairsAntichrist

"It's our birthday, Sis~ We might as well have some form of fun before the world goes up in flames, don't'cha think~?"

Words: 6331, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 8 of Despairic AU

Fandoms: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Enoshima Junko, Ikusaba Mukuro

Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Ikusaba Mukuro

Additional Tags: [Read desc!], One-Shot, Smut, Despaircest, Twincest, Blood Kink, Knifeplay, A lot of blood and murder but make it Pornhub exclusive, Birthday Sex, Mass Murder with a side of sex, Cutting, Basically a whole new fuckin tragedy, Despairic AU, Hair-pulling, Rough Sex, How the fuck did I manage to make a knife a dildo?, I pride myself on my wack ass creativity bro, Knife Dildo??, Also Dom Mukuro??, Junko is totally a sub for Mukuro lets be fucking realistic people, Biting, Minor Rapeplay, Its all consensual yall relax, Choking, Exhibitionism, Reminder that Junko literally has Supernatural Analytical Prowess as a talent, This shit went off so perfectly lmfao

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3p5FvEW