#[ not someone you want to cross late at night yknow ]

[involuntaryspya]

ok since i was asked over on steve's blog what his pokemon team is, i felt i'd be remiss if i didn't include bucky's team too. his is less utility and more... themed. you'll probably figure it out lol.

umbreon - his starter was eevee that he had while he was cap's partner. evolved into umbreon during his tenure as the winter soldier. now, to evolve eevee has to have high friendship with its master and it must be nighttime, two things easily gained with bucky. my favorite pokedex entry comes from moon, "With its black fur, it blends into the darkness. It bides its time, and when prey appears, this Pokémon goes for its throat, and then eats it." ain't that the perfect partner for bucky?

houndstone - so houndstone's data entry in SV is "A lovingly mourned Pokémon was reborn as Houndstone." bucky originally had a growlithe, but it perished and was reborn as a graveard, evolving quickly into a houndstone due to it's loyalty to its eternal master.

aegislash - two dex entries for you: first aegislash has "Apparently, it can detect the innate qualities of leadership." which is why it finally evolved to it's final form when bucky took over as cap. but he was found with one nearby in his winter soldier days, as honedge's data entry states, "Honedge’s soul once belonged to a person who was killed a long time ago by the sword that makes up Honedge’s body."

hisuian zoroark - another departed pokemon, this one being one that senses "lingering malice." after being the winter soldier for so long and finally being able to live his life under his own power, bucky found himself just... angry at those who had ruined his life, and wound up finding a friend in this ghost.

mimikyu - came to join him during his tenure as cap because who relates more to the pokemon that dresses up as the most popular pokemon in an attempt to find love?

alolan vulpix - this has all been incredibly depressing up to this point, yeah? well it's ok bc bucky is ultimately a survivor and is working thru his shit. this vulpix is his "alpine" - a signal of recovery... tho the og ninetales is also hinted at being a vengeful spirit so yknow. still spicy.

[postmodernbeliever]

sick and twisted- fox mulder x female reader (smutsmutsmutsmut)

in a sudden bout of sickness, you are staying with fox, who is yearning to take care of you (...in more ways than one.)

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hope you enjoy this incredibly horny thing... wrote this as i worked through raging period hormones <333 (sometimes i still get a little nervous to post these but yknow what. if im thinking it someone else is too probably. so yolo)

my ao3 | word count: 2,906

content tags: soft dom fox mulder, fox mulder the top of every girl's dreams, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, sickfic, sick reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering & sex, plus size reader if you squint, past fox was a little plus size if you ALSO SQUINT!!!!, idiots in love, pet names, smut, pain relief, talking you through it bc he's a nice boy, cross-posted on ao3

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it was twisted, the way fox was turned on by you being sick. it checked every fantasy in his head off the list and you didn't even know.

by the time you got off work last night, you felt the brain fog rolling in, and you came straight to fox’s place instead of your own- and he was more than happy to oblige you. he wanted to set you up in his bed, but you refused, so he made you a little home on his couch, fixed with his good pillows and the blanket you designated as your own months ago. the man had been itching to come home all day. his brain was so out of the loop, in fact, that he handed dana a case report only half completed, with sentences stopping midway through. his partner had to force him out of the office just so he didn’t screw anything else up, but he couldn’t care less, because he was on his way home to his girl. he even went to the store to get you ginger ale and animal crackers, because he knows that’s your favorite remedy. and god, if you weren't everything he’d been dreaming of since he left you last. 

you were splayed out on his couch beneath a blanket, coughing up a storm. your nose was red and irritated from blowing it into so many tissues, lips swollen from all the chapstick and chewing; a glassy, sleepy look glazed over your eyes, and your skin paled everywhere but your cheeks, which were flushed in a pretty little smear across your face. you were in his old academy t-shirt, which left room to breathe- he was a bit bigger back then, lucky for you- and a little pair of boxers that were hiked up your thighs from sitting in them all day. you were the vision he couldn’t have conjured even if he tried. he wished that they could make a calendar of just you, looking like this, for every month until he died. but above all, your voice was the part that truly drove him up the wall. you didn’t think of the raspiness as much more than grating, but to him? gruff, weak, gentle, needy, undeniably brutally irrefutably hot- he had a thesaurus written just to put it to words. every word that fell from your lethargic lips was like music to his ears; he could listen to your stuffy breathing forever.

fox had been taking care of you, despite your protests to leave you be. you didn't want to get him sick, but he didn't care. he insisted on keeping you company and doing mindless work at his living room desk until you felt like getting back into the world. that was another thing. seeing you helpless and dependent on him, needing him to feel better… he loved that. he loved spoiling you, feeding you, treating you like a princess. that's what you were to him. there was so much in his life that was out of his control, that he couldn’t protect, but you were the one constant thing he could keep safe. the one thing he could selfishly keep. there was no chance he was going to give that up so easily, not when you were catering to his urges so wonderfully.

it was getting late, but you'd slept all day, so the exhaustion behind your eyes was keeping you awake. overtired and restless, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't get comfortable. the man heard rustling from the couch and turned in his desk chair, a serene smile on his face. he noticed you shifting awkwardly and came to the rescue.

"what is it, baby?"

you ceased trying to rearrange the contents of the couch and let yourself flop against the pillows, huffing in aggravation. "ugh, nothing. just can't get comfy."

"let me help you," fox urged. he rose from his chair and stalked over, kneeling dutifully at the couch's edge to help you adjust the pillows behind your head and beneath your legs. "better?"

"mhm. thank you."

"of course. how’re you feeling?"

"not good," you pouted, voice thick with strain, "my head is killing me, and my stomach is aching. and my nose and throat, too… i took some medicine not too long ago, but it’s taking forever to kick in… ugh. you know i hate being sick."

that childish pout had his stomach churning. he knew this wasn't about him, and you needed rest, but he also couldn't ignore how enticing you looked, all innocent and sleepy on his couch. how you trailed off between thoughts, working through the sick haze in your head. he leaned over a bit to rest his hands on your lower abdomen, pressing the heels of his palms against your belly softly. you hummed at the touch, and he had to force his eyes not to roll back.

"what can i do to make you feel better?"

"can..." you trailed off. "maybe you could cuddle me?"

"i'd love to."

the man climbed onto the couch without a thought, allowing his body to mold to how yours curved. you felt his strong chest rising and falling against your back, the constancy soothing as he draped his arm over your side, letting his rough hands drift slowly back down to your tummy. fox pressed a few lazy kisses behind your ears, causing the hair on your arms to stand up stiff. his lips were always warm, but with your skin burning up as it was, they felt frigid.

"too cold?"

"mm-mm," you hummed. maybe they were, but you weren’t going to jeopardize him stopping. 

fox was starting to disregard his better judgment as he tucked himself into you, feeling the feverish heat of your back. he was more attuned to the motions you made than his thoughts. the way your hands, so soft, just a touch smaller than his own, laid safely atop his wrists; how when he rubbed slow circles against your aching stomach, you made a little noise that was something heavenly, both hum and sigh; how your left foot ran up and down your right leg, feeling the fuzzy fabric of the blanket wedged between. he was so lost in how good it felt to be wanted that it was crossing over into obsession. he wanted every square inch of you to need his attention. he wanted to touch every spot that felt sick and nurse you back to life- to have it engrained in your head that only he could make it feel better, and no one else. 

so engrossed in his urges, fox kissed a little more, and what started as innocent turned urgent. he sucked softly behind your ear, nipping relentlessly on that sensitive spot you had. you began to pant, feeling the fever chills leave and a different kind of warmth roll over you. you pushed your hips into his hands, trying not to squirm and failing miserably. 

"oh, god," you covered your face with your hands. “fox…”

fox’s low laugh rumbled against your shoulder blades. the man relished in your inability to resist. his fingers began to travel down to your boxers, and he tucked his hand right below the waistband. he put pressure right against your heat and you buried your face as best as possible into the couch cushion, letting out a helpless whine.

"feels good, right, baby?"

"a-ah," you hiccuped.

"m'just gonna touch it, that's all,”

"but-"

"i can make you feel so much better," he kissed your ear, "make all those aches go away so fast, baby. can i?”

"please," you whispered.

he reached down and dragged his fingers along the fabric separating him from what he wanted, feeling the wetness beneath. his touch was feather-light, and as he gently wriggled his fingers beneath the cotton, you squeezed your eyes shut and scratched softly at the knuckles of his hand still on your waist. you were struggling to do anything other than lie there, but he didn’t need a thing from you anyway. eagerly, you felt his steady fingers brush against your entrance, and his lips parted hungrily at how slick you were.

"god, you're so easy, aren’t you?"

fox dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters. when your hips rocked back into his, he couldn’t bite back the greedy smile that overtook his face. impatient, he pushed them deeper, feeling the familiar pressure of you squeezing around his hand. you licked your chapped lips, feeling a knot tying itself in your tummy where he worked his fingers inside you. he’d been away a lot recently, so much so that this was a reminder of just how long his fingers truly were. 

"mm, now how’s that, sweetheart?"

"it’s… good," you drawled.

"you like it when i touch you like this, don't you? y’like how my fingers feel?"

you turned your head to look down at where his wrist disappeared beneath your boxers, and you keeled back against the pillow, meeting his broad shoulder. you shuddered in pleasure, and he craned his neck over to lock you in a kiss, feeling possessive like never before. he tasted the minty vicks above your lip and moaned right into your mouth.

"my poor, sick girl… just need me, don't you, baby? oh, you just want me to make it feel better, i know."

you practically melted into the couch as he buried his fingers between your hips. skillfully, he maneuvered you onto your back and crawled up and over so you could lay flat; he anchored his arm right over your head so he could stare down and watch the bliss reach your rosy face, all the while never taking his hand away. once you started breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out, dragging his slick fingertips across your stomach, leaving shiny streaks behind. when you groaned at the loss, he clicked his tongue.

"no whining, angel. i'm not done. i'm gonna take good care of you."

you watched through spinning vision as he pushed down the couch, crawling low until he could lean over your hips. then, with his big palms stationed between your thighs, he spread you wide, ogling your plush pink folds.

"you're so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

he pressed a few kisses on the mound just above where you ached, sending shocks up to the tips of your hair. then, he dipped his tongue right inside. he was too needy to start with kitten licks, so instead he swirled around, curling his tongue like a hook, big button nose rubbing against your clit as he breathed you like air. you were officially somewhere new, somewhere out of your own mind; his tongue was so long it could've been one of his god-given fingers, so warm inside you, so deep you couldn't see straight. 

"mmm- god- i love you.”

your toes curled as he moaned all kinds of sweet nothings into you, feeling the soundwaves rolling against your walls. just when his tongue had you going, he moved up to your clit and began sucking so hard you started seeing stars. you clamped your thighs around his head and felt his strong, rough hands grip the chub on them hard, fingertips digging enough to leave moon-shaped bruises. you tugged on his hair, unable to do anything but feel him against you and try not to slip away. but there was no stopping the way you floated in limbo, surrounded by the way he made you feel.

"fuck, baby, look at you," he growled between your hips. "c’mon. let me hear that scratchy little voice of yours."

"oh my god," you moaned, "oh, y-you... i... fox,"

"fuck, that's it. is it good, love, am i good?"

"you're so good! so…s-so good…fuck!" you fought not to trail off, but thinking was hard enough as it is.

“that’s my job, sweetheart.”

he kept himself there, getting off on the way you bucked your hips against his jaw. it didn’t take much longer for the burning in your stomach to grow unbearable, and through trembling little spasms confined by his stronghold on your waist, you unraveled right on his tongue. he came up for air with milky lips after working it out of you for a minute, pressing wet kisses all up your stomach and chest. you felt so dirty as you smiled down at the sheen trail of cum prints in the shape of his pretty lips.

“good girl. did that help?"

"mhm," you heaved, head spinning. “need…”

"what? what is it?"

"i- oh..."

"use your words, princess. words."

"c-can you- you..."

he knew what you wanted. he saw it in the pathetic way you glanced from your hips to his, too worked up to get it out. he chuckled in a way that sent chills up your legs and said, "awh, baby. you want me to fuck you now?"

you bit your lip and bucked your hips in the air. he lodged his leg between your thigh with a smirk and you pressed yourself against it, grinding on the worn fabric of his sweatpants. he felt a wet patch soaking through to his skin, and he twitched in anticipation. you batted your eyelashes and let out a raspy little noise, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt while you moved. and when a sniffle interrupted your humming, it drove him right over the edge.

"fuck. you’re so cute, you little tease.”

he shimmied his sweatpants down in an instant and wasted no time, groaning gutterally as he pushed in and bottomed out. you were hot around him, pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

"fuck, baby. never gets old,” he swooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your chin.  

he began to thrust in and out, hips rolling religiously into the curve of your legs. you clung to his shoulders and tugged him down so he was stuck against your neck, breath hot. he began to fuck you faster, pressing starving kisses to your collarbone, and you arched your back, gasping for a solid breath.

"oh my god!"

"god, you’re so tight," he growled, “been saving it all up for me, huh? missed me bad, i can tell,”

"mm… fox!”

"you like it when i fuck you like this? right on the couch, where anybody could see in that window? say it, baby,”

"i love it," you croaked, gathering the little tufts of overgrown hair at the nape of fox’s neck and tugging them in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself. he tipped his head back into your touch and whined, and you gave a dizzy, darling smile.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you, i fucking love you," he praised, timing every confession with a thrust of his hips.

all you could manage was a distracted, "m-me... too... ah!"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he uprighted himself and yanked you by the love handles, dragging you down the couch like a doll. he clawed at your hips, leaving red marks he’d have to soothe later. fox snapped harder and harder, losing control but not caring at all; you let him take you in his hands, surrendering until you couldn't take anymore, and suddenly the knot in your stomach burst. you shivered and writhed all around, whispering his name like a strangled prayer as your hands searched for something to squeeze. he leaned down so you could grab his biceps, and you scratched at them like a cat, a string of lewd things falling from your tired mouth. he came undone as you clenched around him, and his warmth in your tummy was so thick you felt like you could feel it in your throat. 

"so good, baby, jesus christ," fox wheezed. "you sound so pretty when you’re sick. can’t help myself."

you were nearly unresponsive. your head had never spun the way it did now, and your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, along with your throat. you couldn't form any words, all you could do was claw at his arms and tremble, face stuck in a permanent state of bliss. 

"feeling any better?" fox pressed little kisses to your chin and neck and eyes, and he traced shapes on your stomach to wake you up. "come on, princess, open your eyes. come back to me.” when you smiled and sighed, letting out an embarrassed giggle, he cooed, "there she is, my pretty girl."

"mhm."

"still feel bad?"

you shook your head sweetly, eyes drooping. "nuh-uh."

his heart swelled and he just wanted to eat you alive, so he did the next best thing. he leaned down and kissed your swollen lips with a softness he abandoned just minutes ago, swiping his tongue against your lips and all over your face. he kissed you with all the maneuvers of love he could muster, and you hummed against his mouth, pulling on his hair to hear those pretty little sounds again.

"you’ve got me so whipped, sweetheart," he purred between kisses, "just wanna take care of you."

"you're so good at it," you blushed.

"i do what i can." 

he kissed and kissed and kissed you into the couch, and all that kissing got heated, and one thing led to another because the two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves. and the next day, he woke up as sick as you. who saw that coming?

[katebishopshands]

Omg I loved the caught in the web, the spider girl x kate trope has my heart! Maybe you could do one where spidergirl and kate are training (maybe in the avengers place idfk yk) and maybe they are trying to keep it a secret from the avengers that they are together but are failing terribly at it. Plus I mean who wouldn't like to see kate bishop training those muscles yk.

TEEHEE KATES MUSCLES MAKE ME DROOL 🤤

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I Can See You

Kate Bishop/Spidergirl!reader

Mini fic !!

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“You’re staring” Kate snaps the band of her leggings over her hips.

“I can’t help it I’m sorry!” You put your foot on the nearest bench in the locker room, tying your shoe and avoiding Kate’s gaze. Your cheeks flushed. You hadn’t realized she had felt your stare while you were getting dressed.

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute” Kate walks up to you, grabbing your hands in hers. She placed your hands on her hips, then slung her arms over your shoulders. Goosebumps prickled over your bare arms, suddenly feeling exposed in the tank top you wore.

Kate looked stunning to say the least. Black hair up in her typical ponytail, a light purple sports bra and dark grey leggings. The archer was always donning her favorite colors but today they seemed to pop on her more.

“You’re doing it again” she leans close to your ear, hands toying with the end of your own ponytail. You suck a breath of air in as you roll your eyes. She was just playing with you at this point. Kate leaned back to look at you. She enjoyed the way your face had heated up and the way she made you squirm.

Gone was the girl that had once suddenly and awkwardly blurted out her love confession while mending your wounds, replaced by the ever cocky and flirty Kate Bishop that you were more aquatinted with before getting into a relationship with her. It was always a game of cat and mouse with you two. Kate flirted, and you fell into her trap.

She had you wrapped around her finger and both of you wouldn’t have it any other way. You gave a squeeze to Kate’s hips as you leaned close to her face.

“I think you’re mean” you said with a pout.

“Oh and why’s that,my sweet spider?” Kate mimics your pout.

“You look like this,” you pull her closer to your body a little harshly, your hips colliding with each other. “You point out how I’m staring, and then you ignore me”

“I am not ignoring you!”

“You have no idea how crazy you drive me, Katie”

You’re about to kiss her, lips just barely grazing the others. She smells like her freshly applied deodorant and whatever gloss she had on her lips.

The door of the locker room opening startles you both. You jump back from the other, putting at least a foot between you.

“Kate Bishop, bug-girl hurry it up! You’re late!” , a Russian lilt belonging to Yelena Belova cuts through the locker room air. The blonde appears arms crossed and looking annoyed.

“Coming!” Kate turns towards yelena with a pep in her step.

“Yknow it’s not bug-girl, its spider gir-“

“Don’t care” Yelena cuts you off as she leads you both out of the locker room.

———————————

Keeping your relationship with Kate a secret from the rest of the Avengers and the others in their circle was difficult.

Kate had gotten you the spot, after talking to Clint about your powers. And the last thing you wanted to do was lose it because someone thought the only reason you were there was because of your girlfriend.

Truthfully, you had worked hard. Picking up any bad guys that weren’t high profile enough for the avengers, dealing with countless injuries and sleepless nights just to keep the city safe. You deserved to be on the team, both you and Kate knew that. But you had both decided it was better if you kept your relationship on the down low for the time being.

The training room was busy Sam spent his time walking around the room, making sure everyone was actually working and not slacking off. Bucky lurked behind him, occasionally gently fixing people’s form.

America Chavez was in the corner kicking the shit out of a boxing dummy, Cassie Lang in the other tinkering with her suit. You had heard in meetings with the team that Sam wanted to make sure his team was as prepared as possible for anything. You all had big shoes to fill, not wanting to disappoint the public.

“Bug-girl you’re with me, Bishop go shoot arrows or something” Yelana gave a half assed wave to Kate, who shot you an apologetic glance.

“I’ll see you when we’re done, yeah? Get pizza after??” Kate attempts to take your mind off of sparring with Yelena, she knew how much the little Russian terrified you. You swallowed nervously as you nodded, following Yelena to the sparring mat.

Squaring up to Yelena half hazardly, your eyes lingered across the room to where Kate was etching an arrow into her bow. You watched intensely as she brought the bow up, pulling back on the string to bring the arrow close to her face. Her back muscles flexed, being exposed in the sports bra she wore. Her fingers locked around the arrow.

Kate licks her lips and takes a breath. You see her whole body shiver slightly before she lets the arrow loose. It lands in the center of the target. A perfect bullseye. She turns her head to look in your direction and smiles at you. The last thing you see before Yelena delivers a blow to the side of your face is Kate Bishops smiling face.

You’re knocked on your ass, Yelena frowning face looking down at you.

“Jesus Christ! What was that for??” You scoff at Yelena as you accept her helping hand up.

“I needed something to get your attention” she shrugs before adjusting your position, beginning to pick apart your fighting stance.

It goes like this for a while. Longer than you wanted it to. Yelena kicks your ass, gives you critique, rinse and repeat. Bucky comes over once in a while and adjusts you a little more gently than Yelena. Hand to hand combat had never been your strong suit, hence the many nights spent patching yourself up. Of course you could throw a punch, but you usually relied on your webs and fancy flips and tricks to get you out of sticky situations. The occasional joke and distraction also played in your favor.

The whole sparring session was filled with fleeting glances towards Kate. You watched as she discussed with America, stopped to grab water, go back to her bow and the archery range. She always greeted you with a mischievous grin. Typically, a glance at Kate resulted in Yelena knocking you down or delivering a punch to somewhere in your body. Thank god for accelerated healing.

“What is your deal today?” Yelena asked you. Her hand on her hip, clearly annoyed. You shrugged, not exactly hearing her. You were too occupied with eye fucking Kate’s back from across the room again. Yelena follows your eyeline.

“Oh bishop..I see”

She looks at you, a plotting look on her face.

“Wait no, Yelena it’s fine I just-“

“Bishop! Get over here!” She yelled across the room before you could complete your sentence. Kate obeys like a dog following commands.

“Ah there we go! Maybe you’ll fight better if it means impressing your girlfriend!” Yelena smiles, clearly feeling like a genius at her plan. Kate flushes at the world ‘girlfriend’

“Yelena she’s not my girlfriend” Kate shoots you a look, to which you give her an apologetic one.

“Don’t care, bishop vs bug-girl!”

Kate shrugs and turns, walking towards the slightly larger sparring mat.

“Are you seriously going to fight me?”

“Well, I don’t want to blow our cover and..I guess if I’m not your girlfriend, it’s okay if I kick your ass” Kate laughs a little, mischief glinting in her blue eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant” you pout at her. You’re standing facing each other, Kate’s holding your elbows, she gives a loving rub to your arms.

“I know, I know. Don’t cry too hard when I beat you up though, ‘Kay?”

You roll your eyes as you turn and out some distance between the two of you. You sigh, trying to become accustomed to the idea of your girlfriend kicking your ass.

Yelena counts down at the side of the mat, signaling to you when you can both start throwing punches. Right off the bat Kate’s black belt training come through, expertly throwing punches and kicks. You dodge awkwardly, a backflip here, a slide there. It’s more clunky than you want it to be, but it keeps you away from Kate’s fists.

She looks nearly perfect while doing it all, barely breaking a sweat, while you’re left panting and sweating.

“Impressive bug-girl! This is the best I’ve seen you fight all day! Maybe your girlfriend is helping!” Yelena barks from the side of the mat. You pause for a moment. She’s joined by Sam and Bucky, both of their watchful eyes on you and Kate.

“Yelena for the last time she’s not my girlfriend!”

BAM

Your world is spun upside down as you’re launched across the mat. Breath sucked from your lungs, a loud CRACK Reverberating through your skull. You can feel your sweaty skin sticking to the plastic coated mat as you slide to a stop.

The noise of the training room becomes static, your vision fuzzes as you stare up at the LED lights. A splitting pain fills the center of your face. It’s the only thing drawing your attention until a dark figure fills your vision. It’s a girl. It’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.

It’s Kate

It’s Kate and she’s freaking the fuck out.

“Oh my god” you hear from a distance, or atleast your think it is.

“What’s wrong?” Kate’s cradling your head. You’re suddenly aware of the feeling of a warm liquid trickling down your face.

“Oh my god I just broke your nose” Kate is frantically trying to wipe the blood that’s pouring out of your nose away from your mouth.

“Babe it’s okay” you grin at her as you try to help yourself up into a sitting position.

“But I literally broke your nose” Kate is at a loss of words. She’s frantic as she struggles to find a place for her hands and her energy.

“I know you did, and you won the fight!” You’re a little delirious, just smiling at your pretty girlfriend. Kate is speechless.

“Do I look cool atleast??” You go to feel your busted nose and wince. Kate laughs at you and nods, furrowing her brows a bit.

“The coolest” she helps you to stand up. Slinging your arm over her shoulders and wrapping her arm around your waist. She holds you close to her body before pressing a light kiss to your cheek.

“BARF. Get a room” the two of you turn your head towards where Yelena stood. She was pantomiming sticking her fingers down her throat while making Gaggings sounds. Now you don’t know if this was real, or if maybe you’re concussed as well, but you could’ve sworn you watched Bucky slide Sam a 20$.

“No but seriously, go wash up and get to the infirmary. I don’t want anymore blood on my mat”

Yelena drops the silly act and falls into her typical stone faced, no nonsense voice. Kate side eyes you and shrugs.

“Guess the secrets out”

“I guess so”

You shrug as well, not even caring about the secret at this point, just wanting to stop the flow of blood from your nose.

“Yelena would now be a bad time to tell you that Kate actually IS my girlfriend?”

“OFF THE MAT”

“Right”

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I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for SO long!! So here you go!! Sorry it’s a little dialogue heavy!!

[mochees]

— two tortured souls

dazai osamu x chuuya nakahara | wc: 3k | crossposted to ao3

TAGS: drabble, angst, depression, post-corruption ability use, soft/comfort, generally low mental health mentions, chuuya has a BATH, use of petnames for teasing.

A/N: hihi!!! long time no write!!! remember when i dropped the most depraved, disgusting, self indulgent eremin fic ever and then dropped off the face of the earth with empty promises? me neither, moving on! anyway. been wanting to get back into writing lately but yknow..... the undergrad life........ but i find myself with too much time now that the semester is over so have a drabble thing i wrote a year ago and then just never posted lmfao. it was supposed to be longer but i just couldn't get the ending right so i left it kind of open i guess? anyway skk is real to me

Willingly sacrificing your autonomy is so much more than physically exhausting. Corruption leaves Chuuya feeling truly empty and insignificant. It makes him feel as though he really is just a vessel for something else. An empty, fleshy shell that doesn’t even belong to him. Unlike the physical exhaustion, however, the feeling lingers. It hangs around like a morning fog, obscuring everything as far as he can see. It’s disorienting and restrictive. Most of all, it’s loud. The voices that dwell in the fog are so loud, much louder than anything Chuuya has ever heard, and they echo. They echo, bouncing off of each other and amplifying every emotion, every word, every moment of despair.

Chuuya can’t remember how many days have passed since he used corruption. At least two, maybe even three. The fog is so thick that days eventually just blur together, and time turns into molasses. Resigning himself to a night or two in darkness, he tucks his knees against his chest and covers his ears with his arms, attempting to block out as much of the noise as possible. 

But you can’t silence your own guilt. 

It was pitch black in the house by the time Dazai arrived, which was unusual, but he figured that Chuuya was either tucked in and fast asleep already or strewn across some surface with a movie.

“Chuuya ~,” he sang. “I’m back ~!” Concern grew on Dazai’s face when the routine groan of usually completely false annoyance didn’t sound. He counted all the hats in the closet as he tucked his own clothing away and muttered to no one in particular, “he’s definitely here…”

The detective took a few steps before he sounded again, “Chuuya? Where are you?” The absence of an answer worried him further. No matter how tired, angry, or drunk Chuuya was, he always made a point of greeting his partner as unenthusiastically as he could.

Dazai made his way through the house, checking a few rooms before he found Chuuya. Scrunched up in the far corner of the bedroom, his faint form was desperately trying to be swallowed by darkness. Even for someone who consistently allowed themselves to actually be swallowed by the darkness, seeing Chuuya in such distress and anguish was deeply unsettling for Dazai. Chuuya always surrounded himself with people, and for him to look so alone–

Dazai shook off his thoughts and made his way over to the man, crouching low a few feet away.

“…uuya? Chuuya?” When he didn’t respond, Dazai raised his volume a fraction.

“Are you alright?” Chuuya jumped a little, unaware that someone had crossed into his world of anguish.

Dazai chuckled. He couldn’t help but find it a little humourous; it’s not often he was able to get the jump on him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Dazai?” Chuuya’s voice was hoarse and distant, and Dazai immediately steeled himself.

“Are you– what happened?”

The executive didn’t answer. He just stared—not through Dazai or at anything; he just looked ahead with no purpose. Chuuya could hear something but could not decipher the sounds for the life of him. He only realized they were words when he noticed Dazai’s mouth moving.

There was nothing about Chuuya's demeanour that told Dazai he was conscious. But he also wasn't unconscious. God knows Dazai is all too familiar with Chuuya's unconscious mind, and this wasn't it. There was no light in his eyes, but they weren't lifeless. It was as if Chuuya had trapped himself in his own body, caught between two states of being. He didn't know if Chuuya could even process what he was saying in this state, but he also didn't want to stop. Perhaps Dazai believed in a silly idea that the sound waves might reach him, that they would guide him through whatever limbo he was in. 

Once he finished, Dazai rose from his place on the floor and made his way to the bedroom door. Chuuya could see him leaving, but he couldn’t hear his footsteps. All he could focus on was the voices getting louder again, and the second that Dazai was out that door they started to echo again. Unwilling to fight them, Chuuya lowered his head back down and let the pressure build in his chest and ache his muscles.

Physically, the pain was no different from a hard day's work, but emotionally, it was excruciating. Every breath was hell. Each inhale wound a cord up tightly, but breathing out did nothing to release it. All of the fibres in Chuuya's body felt like they would snap and finally grant him a moment's release, maybe even exhaust him enough to sleep, but they didn't. Instead, they grew tighter and tighter, digging into every strand until it inevitably cut him into a million little pieces.

When Dazai returned, he was greeted with a sight more devastating than before. Tension was emanating from Chuuya like heat from a grill, and he looked positively hopeless.

“Chuuya,” Dazai’s voice was uncharacteristically soft—unfitting, really—but he hoped it might help Chuuya focus. “Will you come with me?” He waited a few moments, giving the redhead extra time to process.

To Chuuya, the sounds outside his head would die before they could fully reach him. The echo was good at drowning everything out like that. 

But luckily, Dazai always did have a talent for evading death.

“You don’t have to do anything, I promise. I’ll–” He hesitated. How can you promise to take care of someone else when you’ve never been able to care for yourself?

“–I’ll help you. Please, Chuuya. If you stay here, it’s not going to get any better.”

Chuuya Nakahara knows that he is right. Of anyone, Osamu Dazai would know, wouldn’t he? It takes him a little while, but with a few shaky breaths and silent tears, he lifts his head and places his hand in the one outstretched before him. This won't fix him, but he has to admit that when Dazai rubs his thumb along his skin, it releases some of the tension in his shoulders. Dazai leans forward and slowly reaches for Chuuya’s other hand, stiff from how tight he was grasping onto his other arm.

“Okay, up we go.” Wasting no time to get Chuuya out of the isolation he'd built for himself, Dazai does his best to support as much of his weight as he can while holding his hands. He doesn’t know how long Chuuya had been sitting there, but he reckons his legs have probably gone numb. As if on cue, Chuuya almost falls right back down before Dazai has a hand on his waist.

“Careful.”

Chuuya's eyes are red and puffy, and his agony has left trails down his cheeks. Chuuya has always been beautiful to Dazai, stealing heartfelt glances when the former isn't looking. But seeing him like this is, in a way, even more breathtaking to Dazai. It means that after all these years of being so sick of each other's mere existence that Chuuya, his rival, his partner, trusts Dazai enough to shatter before him completely. Bringing Chuuya's hand up to his mouth, he lets his lips linger for a few moments as they wait for Chuuya's legs to regain feeling.

Once Chuuya is stable, he lets go of the shorter man’s waist and leads him with one hand, still petting his thumb across the freezing expanse of his hand.

Chuuya doesn’t know what his partner has been doing, or maybe he does. He can’t remember right now; he doesn’t want to. Wherever Dazai is taking him, it takes no longer than twenty seconds, but he feels like a stranger in his own home, wading through the thickest pool of molasses. He can see a straight hallway ahead of him, but it seems like an endless maze of twists and turns. One foot in front of the other, he tries to tell himself, but it’s hard to tell your feet what to do when you feel like a stranger in your own body to. He can feel his face growing wetter as they arrive at their destination. However, in a brief moment of relief, he realizes that they're not tears but steam.

For the time that he had disappeared past the threshold, Dazai had run Chuuya a hot bath and made him something simple to eat. Knowing all too well what feeling this way does to one’s motivation and desire. But honestly, the last thing Chuuya wants to do right now is to bathe. It’s far too much work, and he’d rather be back in the dark in the corner or under a blanket. Even if it meant he’d be alone with his stupid fucking thoughts.

“I know it seems like a chore, but it will help, Chuuya.” Dazai’s familiarity with the muddied waters of one’s own psyche was currently vastly irritating. Chuuya knows that he’s right. He does, but even then, it’s still too much for him to handle right now.

Dazai takes Chuuya’s other hand back in his own. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I– I don’t know.” His voice sounded better to Dazai, the steam probably settling in his throat.

“It’s okay not to know, but I can’t stay here with you if you don’t know.”

Chuuya snaps his head a little at that, shooting his partner an exhausted expression. Dazai gives a slight smile at the motion and gives the others' hands, still in his own, a reassuring squeeze. Perhaps it’s a little morally wrong given the circumstances, but he thinks that he could have a little, tiny bit of fun with this.

“Would you like my help?” He asks again, and Chuuya nods his head before practically collapsing into his arms.

Oh, it is absolutely morally wrong, but he can’t help himself, so he softly teases the man. “Such a gentleman! Flirting with me before we spend the night in each other's company!”

That earns a tired groan from Chuuya who is not willing to put up with Dazai’s usual jeering, but also not unexpected of the brunette to choose the completely wrong time to make his jokes.

“I’m sorry, my darling.” He uses the pet name, knowing he’ll be able to get away with it tonight since Chuuya is too tired to fight him. He runs his fingers through red strands, waiting for Chuuya’s breathing to even out in his hold before moving his hands down to the hem of his shirt. Deft fingers slip underneath and rub small circles into the skin there.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Upon receiving a satisfied hum of approval, he lifts Chuuya’s shirt over his head and drops it onto the counter. Staying out of your head is hard when you’re alone. Knowing Chuuya has already surmised his partners' intentions of distracting him, gently, Dazai pulls him back into his chest and runs his nails down his back. Chuuya’s skin was already freezing before, so he can’t tell if his goosebumps are from chills, or from him. He hopes it’s the latter. After a few seconds, his movements shift into steady pressure trying to work out the tension that Chuuya had cultivated. When he feels Chuuya fall further into him, Dazai is pleased with his work already.

“Chuuya,” he presses harder when he finds a particularly knotty spot at the base of Chuuya’s neck. “Unless you want to get in with your pants on, you’ll have to take them off.”

This earns Dazai a particularly unimpressed look when Chuuya pushes off his chest.

“What?”

Chuuya continues to stare.

“Did you want me to do it for you?”

Well, Chuuya supposes that Dazai can’t help the fact that he is an idiot. After all, he did promise to help. He rolls his eyes and lets out a particularly rumbly sigh, and drops his pants himself, kicking them to the side.

“So forward of you~” teases Dazai.

Turning towards the tub, Chuuya grumbles. “I hate you.”

Dazai grins again. Even if he still feels worse than shit, he’s glad to see Chuuya with a little bit of his fire again. “I know you do. Here, let me help.”

Holding onto Chuuya’s forearm, Dazai helps him settle into the bath. Chuuya resumes his form from earlier in the night, but much more open. His arms are propped on top of his knees, hands hanging down, and fingers just dipping into the water. Dropping his head in between his shoulders as the heat surrounds his aching body, blue eyes fall shut. Then, he releases a deep breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Dazai has his arm across the edge of the tub, resting his head with eyes full of admiration. With Chuuya completely bare in front of him, he traces the flow of his body with his eyes. Stopping often to archive all the little things he loves. Soft red hair that he can't help but play with. Shoulders that he's cried on. The gentleness of his otherwise blood-soaked hands. Even the scars littered across his skin, Dazai loves. They look much better on Chuuya than on him. He reaches out and just barely grazes the sides of Chuuya’s fingers above the water.

“What are you so happy about?”

Dazai hums in response, and Chuuya blows a ripple on the water. They spend a while like this—still, just next to each other, the only sound being an occasional jittery breath.

Dazai interrupts the silence by dipping his fingers into the water and letting the droplets roll off onto Chuuya’s shoulder. 

“Feeling better?”

Chuuya wiggles his fingers in the water, trying to find an answer below the surface.  

“C’mere, and turn around.”

Chuuya turns his head, resting it along his arm and staring the man down.Dazai can read it in his eyes: For what. 

“You’re still tense. So come here.” He presses his finger on the edge of the tub. “I didn’t get to finish getting all the knots out.”

Dazai is not as good at hiding his intentions from Chuuya as he thinks he can be. “You just want to play with my hair.” 

Dazai knows this. He feigns being insulted anyway, throwing his hands into the air. “And so what if I do? Is that a crime? Is it wrong of me to want t–”

“You’re real insufferable, y’know.” Chuuya turns his back to the side of the bathtub.

Dazai smiles sweetly. He likes that so much of their relationship can be left unsaid. Sure, sometimes it probably shouldn’t be unsaid, but it’s fine. Dazai is happy. “It’s why we work so well together.” 

He gets to work on dissipating the rest of the fear and anger in Chuuya’s bones, occasionally and very intentionally, getting sidetracked and twirling a lock of hair around his fingers. At the mercy of Dazai's frighteningly deft hands, a particular spot just above Chuuya's shoulder blade earns Dazai a groan—one he oh so graciously accepts. Working lithe fingers around it, Chuuya leans his head back onto Dazai as the little ball of stress is pulled apart, strand by strand. 

Chuuya's neck is deliciously bared, and Dazai is an opportunistic man. He trails kisses up to just below red lashes, slow and endearing. He continues massaging throughout, placing a final one on fluttering eyes before dragging his lips back down to Chuuya’s ear. 

“The water’s getting cool, my love. You should really get out soon.” Dazai is very pleased with himself when Chuuya shudders.   (He is an opportunistic man, after all, and it truly is such a wonderful opportunity to be the most annoying man on the planet.) He lets his mouth fall down to Chuuya’s shoulder, resting for a moment and trying very hard to hold back the biggest, dopiest grin. Of course, Chuuya can tell. He can sense the smallest shifts in Dazai's behaviour. Although, this time he could tell by just feeling Dazai's facial muscles straining against his shoulder. But Dazai doesn't need to know that. 

 "...Shut up. Get me a towel." Chuuya does a very bad job of hiding the blush on his cheeks. 

Dazai just smiles at his partner, he can't see, but it's a smile full of fondness. One with admiration, love, and as much as he'd rather die than admit it, respect too. Letting someone see you have a complete breakdown, watching as the industrial strength glue you've used to keep yourself from falling apart rapidly starts to degrade, and still trusting that they won't think any differently of or diminish you, takes so much courage. It takes so much trust to rely on someone, even someone you love, to help you set the pieces back together. 

That's something Dazai has never been able to do. He can't let go of that vulnerability, and he cannot have it used against him. Of course, deep down, Dazai knows that Chuuya would never do that to him, but it's hard to turn off those thoughts. It's hard to think of yourself as worth loving and caring for when you have never loved or cared for yourself. 

"Hey, are you okay?" The smile on Dazai's face is forlorn. Realizing that Chuuya is reading him like a book Dazai masterfully shifts his expression, changing the atmosphere around him. This is not about him, and he shouldn't be making it so. 

"I'm just peachy, Chibi!” Chuuya doesn't press any further.

Dazai wraps the towel around him, pulling at the ends to bring his partner closer. Taking a second to look over Chuuya, he notes that his eyes are no longer red and puffy, and his skin has a sheen from the moisture in the air. He truly is the most breathtaking person Dazai has ever had the displeasure of meeting. 

With Chuuya at his chest, he leans down and kisses the man. It's needy, in a way. Soft and tender, but full of so much want, so much need. Like if he couldn't be close to Chuuya anymore, he would simply explode. Dazai doesn't know how to express it though. How he would articulate these thoughts in a way that feels right, so he settles for something simple. Maybe it's not as meaningful, but he trusts that Chuuya understands anyway. 

[softevnstan]

pairing. college!steve rogers x gender neutral! reader

summary. your best friend, steve rogers, is a goody-two-shoes boy through and through. there's always been rumors, but you know steve. and you know the most he's ever been up for with a gal was a peck on the cheek. he always tells everyone he's waiting for the right partner. well, apparently steve wants to learn how to kiss and you have some experience. naturally, things get a little interesting.

warnings. no specific gendered terms here; things do get a little heated but there's no sex or gendered bits mentioned. this is relatively tame and idk what else that might need to be here. kissing, everyone featured is 18+. y/n and steve are slightly buzzed. steve's praise kink (if you squint).

a.n. ok so i was listening to kiss me the whole time and just... do it. please. it enhances the immersion. god why can't i be in an 80s college love story, i deserve it. i'll do a part 2 (where things get way more interesting if yknow what i mean) if you guys want, just let me know.

w.c. 2.7k holy cow

“Excuse me?” The words come choked out from your lips, disbelief washing over you at the request your best friend had just made.

“I’m just saying,” Steve presses on, a soft pink dusting the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red. “You, y’know– You have experience with this type of thing. Everyone just thinks I do.” The last piece comes mumbled from Steve, his head ducked sheepishly.

Even now, you’re still taken aback by the proposition. Sure, you know that Steve was just about as innocent as they come underneath. But you never would’ve imagined he’d be there, both of you in your dorm room, him asking you to teach him how to kiss.

You’d grown up with him, and knew each other like the back of your hands. There were countless times you helped cover for him - the first way you’d even properly met was at a middle school party and both of you had been locked away for seven minutes in heaven. You were ecstatic to potentially get your first kiss - maybe it was the countless grams of sugar in sodas that had you energetic or maybe it was just the natural excitement of a hormonal middle schooler.

But Steve had been scared. He’d been intimidated - poor little christian boy hadn’t had his first kiss yet and he didn’t want to waste it on some cheesy game. Not to mention Steve was already teased relentlessly for being such a small boy who didn’t have the best luck with girls (at the time, atleast - no one was ready for the way steve had buffed up towards the end of highschool; late bloomer, everyone decided when he’d finally grown into his bones and went from a boy to a young man).

‘Is it okay if we just say we did…?’ Steve had asked, sitting cross-legged in front of you on the bed of Susie, the girl you had geography with and whose parents were hosting the party. Her sheets were an ugly salmon with tacky pillows, and one of Steve’s nimble fingers was tracing one of the embroidered flowers in her covers.

Your disappointment was strong that night. The building bubble of anticipation had been abruptly popped right before you, and the mini-crush you’d had on Steve at the time withered knowing there wasn’t any sort of reciprocation. You'd had to physically stop yourself from letting your shoulders sag with the rejection.

‘Of course,’ you’d said with a smile, anyways. Steve was your best friend, after all. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, even if it did come at the expense of your feelings just a bit. Alas, you can’t make someone like you who doesn’t.

Being his friend was something you gladly seized the opportunity for - if you couldn’t be his partner, you could still be something to him.

‘Thanks… I really mean that. All of this stuff is so dumb anyways.’ Steve had tried to dismiss with a little awkward wave of his hand, and that feigned smile of yours bled into a genuine one. Hard to be upset with the guy when he was just so cute; Ocean eyes and soft pink lips that curled into a small smile, nimble fingers of an artist, freckles dusting his skin… You always saw Steve’s charm before anyone else ever had. Well, save for Bucky, his other partner in crime.

You’d both came out of Susie McCracken’s room, met by giggles and questions but Steve had just bitten his lips together and flushed while you’d lied for the both of them. 

‘What did you guys do in there?? Did you actually kiss??’ Bucky had inquired all too excitedly. ‘What else do you do while playing seven minutes in heaven, Bucky??’ you’d asked in turn, not a direct lie technically.

Bucky had thrown an arm around Steve’s scrawny shoulders and dragged him in.

‘Way to go, Rogers!’ 

You’re drawn back to the present moment as Steve looks at you intensely with those baby blue eyes. Only then that you realize he was still waiting on your response. That gaze burning into you, studying you made your face feel even warmer. The little puppy tilt of his head is too endearing; pulling at your heart strings. The offer is something out of a dream - and while you fear it may potentially alter the relationship you have with Steve, you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I don’t want to kiss someone for the first time and not be good,” Steve pleads his case, and it’s the childishness of the statement that breaks some of the tension inside of you - letting your shoulders slowly ease and you take an experimental swig from the can of beer that Steve had brought over per your request. “So do you think y’could teach me…?”

Steve, who was afraid of hardly anything, who picked fights with bullies and always tried to hold himself and maintain composure, now seemed so shy. It was endearing.

“Okay,” You say, with a click of your tongue. The reply shocks Steve; Causing him to jolt upright and straighten his back out.

“Really?” The word is breathless, and you grin - never pulling your gaze from Steve’s. Utilizing the moment of liquid courage to egg you through this.  “Really. C’mere,” you scoot on your bed, opening up a spot for him to come sit with you.

You watch as Steve picks himself up from the armchair, crossing the distance to you and only wavering upon actually having to sit on your bed. He sits on the edge as though he’s afraid to take up space, and you give a soft laugh. He’s helpless. Steve’s ears burn hotter at your laughter, but he can’t help but smile a little himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, big guy. Now c’mon, turn and face me,” your hand pats his shoulder, before letting your touch linger just a moment. Defined muscle even through his shirt; You’re not surprised but certainly impressed. It’s just a brush, really, and if Steve notices, he doesn’t say anything when he turns to lift his leg onto the bed. Folding his knee and tucking it under himself comfortably, he rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs.

You lean in, knowing that Steve isn’t going to do it himself. “Just… Be still, okay?” you warn, still hardly in the belief that the moment itself was true. You were half waiting to hear this was some strange joke. “Uh-huh,” Steve breathes, a little bob of his head in a nod.

He swallows hard, and you tenderly lift your hand to cradle his cheek. Palm flush with his warm skin, and your palm must feel cool because Steve shudders out a stifled breath through his nose. Without further delay, you lean forward. Tilting your head upward enough to catch Steve’s lips in your own; Pressing tentatively at first.

Steve’s lips are… Soft. Pillowy. Which is surprising, because when eyeing him a few moments ago, you were worried he might need some chapstick. Eyes drooping closed, Steve gives a slightly audible gasp at first before kissing you back. Leaning into the touch, his hand lifts and hovers a moment before residing to cup the side of your neck. The brush of Steve’s calloused palm makes you hum, feeling the warmth that wraps around the side of your neck and simply holds. Thumbing at the slope of your jaw tenderly while Steve attempts to mimic the way your lips mold into his.

You both linger there far longer than you’ll ever admit. Only after a moment do you part ever so slightly to suck a shaky breath in through your barely parted lips. Steve seizes the moment of pause though to lean in and press you two right together again. This time you pepper his lips with soft, repetitive pecks. His lips are warm and soft; you’re able to taste your shared breath between one another as you both return for more. Steve wasn’t perfect right off the bat, you noticed. Pursing his lips too much at first, but with the insistent press, he slowly loosened up to kiss you more delicately.

Before you realize it, the hand of yours that was holding Steve’s cheek was sliding back into the short spikes of blond hair. Your blunt nails rubbed soothingly at his scalp, drawing a barely there groan from somewhere in Steve’s chest. The taste of beer was prominent on his breath but not uninviting.

Warmth filled your chest, butterflies swarming in your stomach when your lips kept meeting. Again and again. But rather than find yourself fully entranced with the moment like you’d prefer to be, you’re committed to the task at hand. Teaching Steve. So when you press your forehead to his and just barely part your mouths, you take the moment to breathe. Let some of the air come back to your head and ease the high of the experience.

“Your lips feel soft,” you utter airily, lips ghosting with Steve’s and curling into a delighted smile. “When you kiss someone, don’t rush it… You’re doing really good so far - don’t try to shove your tongue down anyone’s throat or anything, okay? Kissing is… a delicate art.”

That makes Steve snort, stamping a soft peck to your lips like he’s trying to get right back into the moment.

“Hey, hey,” you softly chime in, stubbornly pressing your foreheads together to keep Steve in place. Licking your lips, you chuckle. “Speeding into things ruins the fun, you don’t have anywhere else to be, y’know?”

Steve’s reply comes in a husky chuckle. “Note taken – what happens if I rush things…?” Steve doesn’t rush anything, he’s the king of waiting, actually, but you don’t tell him that. “Might spook someone a little… You don’t want someone thinking you’re just trying to get into their pants, after all.” “Oh gee, definitely not,” Steve agrees softly, seemingly sobering from the haze albeit slightly.

Your fingers mindlessly scrape along Steve’s scalp, nearly earning a purr from the man. Watching him through half-lidded eyes, you decide to try your luck.

“How do you feel about more than just a few little kisses…?” You timidly try; Not wanting to press and come across as pushy, but certainly not trying to waste an opportunity.

Looking at his face, you find his eyes are still closed. Long lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, your stomach swoops and it feels like all of the childhood feelings you’d stuffed down years ago for Steve come bubbling to the surface. For a moment, it's as though the blond is in a daze before seemingly realizing he’d been asked a question.

Steve’s hand that isn’t cupping your neck, slowly and absentmindedly snakes to your side. Fingers brushing out over the fabric of your shirt, but still gentlemanly enough not to let his fingers go diving under to feel your skin. Even if it’s killing him not to in that moment. 

“Well, I-” Steve’s throat sounds tight, “ I need to know all I can, so…” You give Steve a barely-there nod that leaves your noses rubbing together affectionately. “Okay.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, hoping that Steve won’t be able to tell just how much this moment means to you. You kiss him slowly and languidly, Steve’s lips parting slightly to allow your tongue to slip inside. It takes him off guard if the stuttering in his breath is anything to go off of, but Steve follows your lead nonetheless. It surprisingly doesn’t take Steve long to start to get the hang of it between the both of you; potentially the liquid courage flooding through both of you.

At some point, you lose track of the fact you’re even supposed to be teaching Steve something. Both of you scooted closer together, chests coming flush and narrowing the room between the two of you less and less. Your fingers card back through Steve’s hair, and the hand on Steve’s hip gives a testing pull. Taking the next step, you move to throw your leg over Steve’s thighs. Sliding right at home in his lap, his hands greedily coming to hug your sides and draw you in even closer against him. It certainly made kissing significantly easier, even in the few instances you’d both pull apart to swallow shallow breaths of air before kissing again.

You’d slept with guys before, though. Had a hook-up once or twice. With Steve, nothing felt nearly as rushed or hungry. It wasn’t like he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat; There was a gentleness to it all.

When settling in his lap, Steve took the moment to pull apart with a breathy chuckle. “Is this part of the lesson?” Steve rhetorically asks, and your answer comes with a playful roll of your eyes. “I thought it’d be easier,” you answer, feeling obvious. “...But if you’re not comfortable-” “I’m comfortable.” Steve interrupts before biting his kiss-swollen lips together.

You take that as the green light to continue, arms finding a comfortable home around Steve’s shoulders. Running up into his hair and cradling his cheek, you pull him right back down into another languid learning session. Only this time, you decide to actually give him a few pointers.

Trying not to acknowledge the idea of Steve kissing anyone else like how he’s kissing you (hey, at least you got his first), you kiss him breathlessly all over again. Soft tongue, slow and taking your time before retracting long enough to take a soft suck out of Steve’s bottom lip. “Don’t be afraid to tease someone, make them want to come back for more,” you purr against Steve’s mouth, taking a playful nip out of Steve’s lip. Steve on the other hand let a groaning drawl out of him, fingers tightening where they hold your side and coasting down towards your waist.

Steve doesn’t question - instead takes the pointer as a challenge. Drawn back in for another kiss, he decides to give you a taste of your own medicine and you’re not ready for it. The tease of Steve’s tongue on your lips, him kissing you deep and molding the both of you together just to pull apart right when it feels like things are too good to be true. Taking your bottom lip between his teeth barely, he gives a soft bite before a soothing little lick. He’s getting the hang of it with his mouth and you’re floating on cloud nine; Squeaking out a noise that you’d deny making if anyone asked.

“How’s that?” his voice is huskier than before; sending shivers up your spine and rattling you to your core. “G-Good,” you manage, swallowing and taking a moment to catch your breath. “Real good, Steve…”

That seems to do something to him, too, if the way he squeezes your hips are anything to go off of. His fingers flex tightly and he sighs out shakily before letting some of the tension bleed out of him and his palms rub soothingly instead over your hips.

High off the endorphins, you decide to give into the competitiveness in you. If you’re going to be the first one to kiss Steve, you want him to remember it (though that may be the beer talking). Nevertheless, you shift on your knees. Straddling his lap, you stand to lean over him and crush your mouth back to Steve’s. Nothing frantic or rushed, but you decide to take the risk of making things steamier. Hotter. Licking hot into his mouth, Steve groans; pressing hard into the kiss the way you do. Trying to combat you while his hands smooth down to your thighs. A delicious squeeze that makes you sigh through your nose. Brow knitting up, you give a soft tug at the back of Steve’s hair.

It earns a gasp as your mouths part, his head craning back. You take the moment to lean over him and press soft kisses to his mouth, taking deliberate time to give attention to his top and bottom lip; Trailing down from the corner to lavish the skin of his jaw in pecks.

“Oh God,” Steve sighs out rawly, and the words stab you right through the chest - it’s already seared itself in your mind how it sounds from Steve’s perfect lips. “H-How should I touch someone, Y/N? When I kiss them, show me how to touch them…”

And, well, you’d be cruel to deprive Steve of the answer. He needs to learn, after all. You’d be an awful friend not to help teach him.

[likeadevils]

Bejeweled confuses me. I don't know if it's a break up song, a bragging song, a I Did Something Bad like song or something else?

so like, obviously it can be about whatever you want, but if you’re asking what i think taylor was writing it about. um.

okay so. so bejeweled is one of those songs that can like. like. what you think qualifies as cheating, and what you think taylor qualifies as cheating, and how close to that line you think taylor would walk. like. it becomes relevant. i’m not gonna imply taylor like. like she’s not paul mccartney she didn’t have sex with someone else where she knew joe would catch her because she got cold feet about getting married. but if you aren’t comfortable with the idea that the thought of flirting with another man in order to reaffirm her agency would cross her mind, then like. i guess then my answer is global superstar taylor swift wrote it about my specific middle school best friend who is the only person on earth who was born evil

the way i see it bejeweled is about— well, a lot of little situations probably, but mostly about two different points in her life. there’s spring 2016 in general and the early morning hours of april 29th in specific, and then there’s winter 2021. and, on some level all of midnights is about winter 2021, both because that’s when she wrote it and also. like. clearly the agonizing over marriage and fame on midnight rain didn’t come out of nowhere, you know? but i think bejeweled is very much so about the two simultaneously

a fun fact about bejeweled is taylor was wearing this dress the night of april 28, 2016

another fun fact about bejeweled is it was probably written, at most, a month before you’re losing me. maybe a couple weeks afterwards. maybe the same week. we just don’t know, aside from them being written at around the same time

and with that context two lines jump out

best believe i’m still bejeweled: now, obviously, this is first and foremost about being metaphorically bejeweled. but if we want to take it to a more literal level, this can apply to both timeframes. in one, it’s “i’m still bejeweled, i’m wearing a bejeweled dress”, in the other it’s “i’m still bejeweled, think about the place where you first met me”

and when i meet the band, they ask ‘do you have a man?’ i could still say ‘i don’t remember’: this immediately reminded me off “he’s in the club doing i don’t know what” and again, it can either be about that first situation, or it can be a reminder that she could, yknow, write him out the way she wrote him in

now, do i think anything serious happened? no. do i think she at least had the possibility, the daydream, the late night revenge fantasy, on her mind? i mean like. wouldn’t you?

[logan-lieutenant]

i feel so high school (au) pt. 5.C: pierresteban

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(pierresteban continued)

ANYWAY so after that particular dance both of their heads are just like !!??!!??!! until finally they're both outside the studio and esteban starts walking away immediately and pierre– actually yknow what i'm gonna write a bit how the conversation more or less goes

p: hey. esteban. ESTIE!

e (whirling around): don't FUCKING call me that! .... what?!

p: hey, can... can we talk?

e (mind exploding in anger and frustration and confusion and need to retreat): i have nothing to say to you. –– and i need to catch the bus.

p: this late?

e (scoffs): yeah, sorry, my lexus is in the shop.

p: i can give you a ride...

and because esteban is shellshocked and not thinking straight and tired and fine maybe he's weak to his own stupid imagination he says yes. and esteban can't decide if it's creepy or achingly sweet that pierre remembers where his house is and doesn't make a single wrong turn or ask for directions once. and then they just sit in the parked car far enough down the street that esteban's parents couldn't see and just stare straight ahead and the silence stretches on with everything they haven't said confessed screamed at each other for years until pierre just mumbles in the most broken voice esteban has heard since they were kids and pierre's dog died

he tells esteban what happened, why he missed school. what he lost.

and the conversation is awkward and hesitant and walking on broken glass because they haven't had an actual sit-down conversation alone for years but esteban knows instinctively like this is killing him. after all this time i'm still the only person he trusts with the fractured pieces of his heart and he has to fucking tell someone because this is destroying him inside and maybe he just reaches out and puts his hand on the console in between the seats so it's there if pierre wants it and pierre does

pierre just reaches over and closes his eyes and takes esteban's hand and squeezes it and they're both pretending like pierre's face isn't shining with tears that glint in the flickering street lights and there's more silence but this time it's different, it feels like they're both thinking the exact same thing but both too scared

e: it's getting late...

p: yeah, yeah, sorry. you should probably go. (draws his hand away)

e: looks down at his own empty hand, then at the car door handle: yeah.

[waiting]

before he can chicken out esteban leans over and kisses pierre on the cheek before he says goodnight and then he gets out of the car

and in the following weeks they don't know how to talk to each other but they both know that something's going on, there's a spark catching and they're both terrified of the light but irrepressibly drawn to the heat. maybe they both sign up for an hour or so of empty studio time a week to practice and maybe there's only one studio available that late at night and they both know it. maybe they do more partner routines maybe they do the same choreo maybe they watch each other in the mirror for a little too long. pierre drives esteban home every week and then it gets to the point where he picks esteban up from class even on the days pierre doesn't have class himself and they start finding places around town that become their places just at night. places they remember. a park, a 7-11, a hiking trail, a waffle house (because nothing says teenage queer romance like waffle house)

esteban gets selected for the solo routine in that year's recital and the first time he practices his routine on stage/in full costume it's just him and pierre and pierre watches cross-legged from the very edge of the stage and when esteban finally finished pierre stands up and he's openly crying, and esteban's out of breath and dizzy from dancing his fucking heart out and he just gasps like, "what?" because even after everything he's never seen pierre look at him like that and pierre just shakes his head in shock and awe and murmurs, "you're beautiful"

we all know what happens after that

[transgenderer]

john described absolute lithops effect as a less melancholy predecessor to in memory of satan which i think is interesting. lyrics and some notes+quotes under the cut

absolute lithops effect

After one long season of waiting After one long season of wanting I am breaking open My insides are pink and raw And it hurts me when I move my jaw But I am taking tiny steps forward And I feel sure that my wounds will heal And I will bloom here in my room With a little water and a little bit of sunlight And a little bit of tender mercy, tender mercy The big trucks come up the highway And the big wheels rattle my windows And night, night comes to Texas After one blind season alone in here After one long, sweltering summer I'm going to find to exit And I will go to the house of a friend I know And I will let myself forget With a little water and a little bit of sunlight And a little bit of tender mercy, tender mercy

in memory of satan

Got my paintbox out last night Stayed up late and wrecked this place Woke up on the floor again Cellphone stuck to the side of my face Dead space on the other end Perfect howl of emptiness Cast my gaze around the room Someone needs to clean up this mess Tape up the windows Call in a favor from an old friend Make some scratches on my floor Crawl down on my hands and knees In old movies people scream Choking on their fists when they see shadows like these But no one screams cuz it's just me Locked up in myself Never gonna get free Something sacred, something blue Cannons in the harbor dawn I crawled down here to dig for bones One more season then I'm gone Black drapes over the crosses Call in a favor from an old friend

a lithops is a stone plant, yknow the little succulents that look like rocks, and "split" in the middle from which they bloom.

ALE quotes:

This is a song about sitting alone in a room waiting for something to happen. A subject that's most insufficiently addressed by pop music. You know, because not everybody really is going to find the one they love, but everybody is going to spend some time alone in a room waiting for something to happen

I'm of the belief that there are only so many themes for songs, and you can do a number of different -- dressing up of the things that you tend to obsess about, but I think most songwriters have a few things they tend to obsess about. I have recurring images and phrases, right.... But one of mine, uh, which is not surprising to me when I think about it, is, um, is emerging from some place, uh, after a long period of, uh, of waiting to emerge, right, for whatever reason, right, whether, you know -- some, some people in my songs who are emerging, it's because they were too wounded to come out, and some feel like they can't come out. And I don't know if this is the first, uh, occurrence of that, but I noticed it's like a predecessor to In Memory of Satan, which is sort of, uh, I think the more melancholy version of this one, which is called 'Absolute Lithops Effect'

IMoS quotes:

Everyone has spent those years, or maybe entire seasons, indoors where you don't really leave. That's when you go into the inner realms of the spirit. This guy's in hiding, and it's this most spiritual realm. That old saying holds here, that you can't be in a cave unless there's an exit, or else it's a grave

Short version is it's about how you have to worship the devil sometimes. It's not that song. Different kind of worship, same kind of devil. It's about the evil things inside you that you have to learn to celebrate and live with and think of as a part of the whole that makes up you instead of rejecting them because you won't be able to shake them and sometimes they will need to be, as we say in our Wiccan circles, honored. And I frequent several Wiccan circles. My dancing is celebrated at them

and my favorite:

Now this is a song about how, when things are going very badly for you, like really badly for you in your personal life, not in your relationships – that’s part of it, but it’s all rolled into one, because things are bad in your head, and in your heart, and in your body, and everywhere. Bad, terrible. And you reach this point of stasis with it, and then it begins to feel like progress. It’s not like you’re getting better, but you’re getting better at not being well. [audience laughs] It’s funny now, right? At the time, it’s maybe less funny. At the time, it feels more like demon possession, but it feels like the moment of demon possession where you go, “Man, if I’m gonna be possessed by a demon, then fuck it. Let’s just demonically possess this world. Let’s just do the things we demon-possessed people do. If people can’t handle my possessed self, that’s between them and whatever god they worship, but as for me, in my house, we shall worship the devil.” [audience cheers] But this is the thing I’m always trying to point out. We say “woo!” about that, but the devil I’m talking about is not the devil you actually like, it’s not the devil of whiskey and smokes or whatever. It’s the devil who stands between you and the things you hoped to become. The devil who stands between you and your better self. The one with whom you form an allegiance at some point in your life, because you can’t escape him any other way. And then later, you recall this time with great trembling. And this is called “In Memory of Satan.”

[kismetmoon]

um i’m no seasoned writer but i’ve been having this scenario play on loop in my head and im too lazy to draw it out so i wrote it out instead. i might start doing this with small snippets i think up then make them into comics if i really like them and / or have the time. i have all these characters and i feel like i should, yknow, use them for stuff

‘GUARD!’, came a shrieking echo from down the long, winding halls of the Circles’ estate.

Atlas knew this voice all too well: Adam Siglon. Chief Circle’s advisory square. While he was supposed to be balancing books on his head (or whatever squares did in their free time, Atlas wasn’t too sure), he could always be found sticking his angle where it wasn’t wanted.

This time, it must have been a great disturbance for his echo to travel as far as him at this time of night. Not many other guards were on duty at this time, most had signed off for the day to go home to their families. They were replaced with a night shift squadron that was only half their population. Altas was still on duty, however, like he always was. He was used to getting maybe three or four hours of sleep during the day anyways, if he was lucky.

Unfortunately, he knew he was the closest guard around, and so tiredly made his way to the screaming source. He glanced back at the door he really should have been protecting, the entrance to the Chief’s son’s bedroom - the golden heir. Atlas huffed and dragged his eye from the door as he rounded the corner, finding himself now staring at the disgruntled square at the end of the hallway.

Mr. Siglon was tapping his foot impatiently as Atlas crossed the hall at uniform speed, taking joy at the square’s ever growing frustration at his slow pace. When they were finally standing eye to eye, Mr. Siglon took a sigh that sounded like a mixture of exaggerated exasperation and genuine relief.

‘Better late than never, as per usual with you lot’, Mr. Siglon mumbled under his breath. ‘I have a small job for someone of your, er, talents, to take care of’.

He pointed his finger to the door on his left that was ever so slightly ajar. Atlas followed where his finger was pointed, but all he could see was the inky blackness of the unlit room.

‘See in there? I just watched someone run down this hall and hide in there. I’m not sure who it was, but it certainly wasn’t any guard. Far too small. I want you to go and find whoever is in there. Kick. Them. Out. We have no tolerance for trespassers, especially on such sacred grounds such as these’, Mr.Siglon said, directing his voice into the void of a room beside them on that last sentence, in hopes that said trespasser would hear it and do what? Feel guilty?

Atlas simply shrugged, grabbed the lit candle from the sconce on the wall, and went in as the square suddenly closed the door behind him.

‘Good luck!’, came from behind the door, Mr. Siglon’s voice oozing with sarcasm.

Atlas rolled his eye and began to tilt the flame around the room, scanning for the perpetrator. He quickly realised he was in the music room, mostly due to the massive grand piano laying in the centre of the floor. He started to circle the piano as he lit up the walls and surrounding furniture. There was nothing on the left side but some plush pinstripe chairs adorned with dark wooden frames. He moved around to the back of the piano, by the tall arched windows. He tried to look outside to the courtyard, but it was almost as dark out there as the room he was already in. It was only slightly lit by the few occupied rooms contained within the surrounding walls.

He was starting to walk back to the door, thinking Mr. Siglon had just been paranoid so late at night (or he was on his sixteenth cup of coffee of the day), when he heard the soft shuffling of fabric behind him. He swung around, the flame of the candle nearly dying at the velocity of the turn, and stared straight ahead at the curtain beside the rightmost window. He could feel his frame turning whiter than it already was when he bent the candle down to reveal two small feet of someone hiding behind said curtain.

Slowly but surely, Atlas creeped his way towards the curtain, flame shaking slightly in his hand. How he wished he still had his spear on him, but he had left it laying against the wall beside Chief Jr’s door. He closed the distance between the curtain and himself when the floor let off a horrible creaking sound underneath him, causing the half hidden feet under the curtains to stand on their tiptoes.

‘They know I’m in here with them now’, Atlas thought.

He set the candle down on the windowsill, took in a gasp of air and placed his hand gingerly on the ruffles of the curtain. He quickly pulled it back and raised his free hand to strike the perpetrator. He held his fist in the air for some time as he examined the tiny figure in front of him, now hunched down and curled into a small ball beneath him.

‘A child’.

Atlas uncurled his fist and gently bent down beside the small figure, instead offering out his hand slowly. A small eye peeped out from behind the arms shielding it, and a little line looked back. Her pupil blew huge upon seeing his face. She stood up, but was still slightly hunched over. She examined his face a bit more before she gasped and her eye broke into a smile.

‘D-!’, she started, before Atlas panicked and waved his hands around before putting a finger under his eye in a shushing motion.

Her smile instantly dropped, but once he smiled back at her it picked up again. Atlas looked cautiously back at the door, but there was no reaction from Mr. Siglon outside.

‘He mustn’t have heard anything then. Good’.

Atlas picked the little line up under her arms, her white nightdress swaying with the swift movement. The line looked up at him with her big eye, but Atlas was too busy looking around the room to notice her gaze. He stopped and looked back at the window, opening it ever so slightly and placing her outside on the gravel path of the courtyard.

She looked up at him confused and concerned. He furrowed his brow and started to make a sign with his hands. He pinched his fingers to his thumb with one hand and placed it beside his eye. He then moved this hand down to meet his other hand in front of his chest, both now balled into fists, and touched the wrist of his lowered hand with the second hand.

‘Home’.

The little line looked up at him once more, stepping backwards before stopping and looking at him once again. He quickly made another sign to reassure her. He presented the palm of one hand to her with his fingers spread out. He bent his ring finger and middle finger down and kept the rest of his fingers stationary.

‘I love you’.

She glanced at his hand and back to him, running back towards the window. She reached up and he embraced her as best he could from his side of the window. She quickly took off and out of the courtyard, heading straight for the exit with the brick arch. Atlas watched her until she was out of view, then took the candle from the windowsill and headed back to the door.

There was no sign of Mr. Siglon now. He had left him to fend for himself. Which Atlas could, but it would have been nice to have had some sort of backup, in case it really had been a bloodthirsty assassin or something along those lines. Atlas checked up and down the halls before he scoffed and headed back to his post by the bedroom door for the night. He stared at his feet while he walked, pondering what time it was and if he was due to go home soon. He was in for a worrisome couple of hours, thinking about the little line and if she would make it back home alright.

But he knew that she always did.

[subizer0]

star-crossed lovers.2 the sheriff of piltover

"the always enchanting tale, of star crossed lovers"

being an unndercover zaunite working for the kiramman family, slowly planning doom (was what i said but brace yourself cuz that's a lot different sdfsjklfjsdf)

a.n: i believe caitlyn is supposed to be around 24ish (although some redditers think she's in her late twenties which is, um, kinda unrealistic imo :D). so the main part of this takes place between the first and the second act, meaning the explosion + hextech bullshit did happen. caits just not a part of the police deparmant yet. capisci?

!!!again, since english is not my first language you will be seeing a lot of clownery in this. little bit of this little bit of that, yknow? (i'll probably edit this after a nap)

caitlyn x gender neutral(god i hope) reader (4,4k words)

warnings: reader is wearing a nightgown, abuse, they are both smitten but they don't notice yet trope, there's the zaun-piltover racism going on i guess???

supporting characters: tobias, cassandra

you were born to alow-middle class family in zaun, a surprise child, considering how your parents had the impression of giving birth to a child in the lawless down city was just another mouth to feed. not an unwanted one, i might add, but even though your parents were always discreet about the hardship of their lives, it would also be a lie to say your life was as easy as some folks got it out there.

nights were your parents came home exhausted, visibly wounded and gasping for air. even though they were broke, they were also proud to lead an honorable life in a city where illegal activities never stopped. as a child, you used to admire them for it, having stone fights with other "poor" kids while bragging about how good your parents were. but that started to change as you've realized how your family stopped eating proper meals, sometimes they worked for over 14 hours with no pay, you started to wear your summer shoes even though it was freezing cold. you guys stopped having dinner conversations because all your parents wanted to talk about was how they were going to pay this month's bills. they stopped asking how your day was, if you had any new drawings to put on the fridge this week. they didn't wake up early to see you off to school anymore, hell, you couldn't even be sure if they had just gone to sleep, at 7 in the morning!

so you stopped as well. you weren't as keen to hug your parents anymore, you stopped asking for money to buy crayons from the junk markets, and by the time you were 12, maybe by luck maybe you were just at the right place in a right time, you bumped into a very, very important person. someone that has it so easy that they wouldn't even have to think twice before purchasing a very expensive counter-part for their new pricy clock. you apologized profusely, of course. you were brought up with proper manners after all. you saw a machine like man, whom you assumed was unable to speak, shaking his -you weren't actually sure if they were even a mister- hands rapidly, trying to communicate. you heard of piltovians going down to buy their own creations for cheaper prices here, but you also thought it was illegal. zaunite gangs were responsible for stealing and smuggling them downstairs, but whatever happened to them afterwards was none of their business. everyone out here had their own vouches and sales people, so actually seeing someone from upside doing shopping here was very unsettling to be fair.

you froze, i mean god, you were just here to possibly sell a few junk that you stole the other week (which you weren't really proud of but life was getting harder), and you HAD to run into one of the tough guys of piltover. you clutched your backpack, ready to run if the dude saw you putting a puzzle piece in one of your pockets, but the mechanic citizen just put their palms in your face as if to say 'stop'.

his robotic fingers pointed to your bag, sweat down your forehead and coming into your view now, you also slightly changed your position to look at what he was showing. of course you knew what was there, it was just a dumb reflex. he was trying to ask about a few invention blueprints you were doodling earlier at class today. zaun didn't have a proper education system, but there were scholars teaching kids privately if offered a fat amount of money. your parents wanted you to take science courses, working for a chemlord themselves, but you always found yourself coming up with different drawing of tech products.

you enjoyed drawing, sculpture and art in general, but down here, these stuff were just seen as well-heeled brat hobbies, they didn't make money and they for sure didn't protect from any punk trying to catch some hands. but in piltover? people appreciated fine arts, they did not dismiss them for not bringing any income to the family, they were overjoyed upon seeing their children take interests in them. oh, how lovely it must be. not having to beg to your parents about art supplies but them simply coming to you with new offers for more creative aspects of life. and the rich brats, who often refuse to see their parents' kindness and just complain about them being so 'overbearing'. you couldn't even remember the last time your guardians knocked on your door to ask for your opinion, on anything!

seeing you clearly confused, the piltover citizen politely put his hands on your shoulder before quickly making a gesture to show you what he was really interested in. using his open palms as a paper, he pretended to scribble over it with another robo-hand. clumsily throwing your bag to the ground, you took out your biggest notebook for him to use, a bit uneasy but still curious nonetheless.

"did you create them?" you shook your head in affirmation. your tiny heart was beating with both horror and excitement. "they are quite complex and creative." he nodded slightly as you read the words with a smile now. your ideas, getting praised by someone for the first time ever. not to mention someone who seems to know about his way around.

he hesitates now, looking at you as he stops writing. he can tell by your clothes and demeanor that you must've seen the rough side of the town, a kid that's maybe around a middle-schoolers age, trying to get away with stealing stuff to possible survive, he assumes. he just draws a smiley face on the paper, handing it back to you with ease and determination. a bright kid who deserves to receive education in the prestige academys of piltover, getting lost between the chemical wastes of zaun. he watches you take the notebook back carefully, still watching out for any hostile activity in the way he's behaving. he uses every power that's limited by his mechanical body to show you a simple chuckle, and then points once more.

"you." "me." "upside."

and that he does. trying not to get your hopes up, you spend the next few days just like any other, but you're yearning. looking out the windows more, up to the sky that you can hardly see because of piltover's majestic buildings. hoping for that meeting to be a plan of fate, a hope.

"if the servants are of any trouble to you, just let me know! kirammans do not tolerate rudeness." there you saw a bright 14 year old smiling at you politely as you struggled to carry some books about neuroscience. you knew of her, of course you did. the little lady of the kiramman family, the girl with the weird hair color and a gap in her teeth as the only thing that slips from her perfect aura. you didn't quite want to admit, but you were a little scared of her. she was beautiful, first of all. standing tall with her head high and chin up. always walking straight, never doing any mistakes. you'd sometimes see her talking to very particular searchers, young and talented people very important in their own areas, as equals?? she always spoke whatever was in her mind in an intelligent perspective, never failing to make her mother proud.

"you shouldn't be seen helping me." you said, voice cracking while your eyes search the corridor for any witnesses in panic. normally you wouldn't care about other students pushing you around, it just wasn't worth throwing your scholarship aside. since that faithful day, even though you never saw the 'machine man' personally again, there was a feeling deep inside always telling you that you had to make sure his efforts were not in vain.

you could see that she was not able to make much of your tension, clenching her own books to her chest.

"what is that suppose to mean? we're just going to the same class. it's not a big deal, no?" caitlyn answered quickly with a slight tone of hurt in her voice. she was right actually. you were heading to the same class, but it was very clear that you two were very different from each other. you were a meek child for many reasons: being loud and expressive usually meant getting hurt in zaun, being noticeable made it very hard to sneak past shop owners when they see you trying to steal a delicious fruit. and there was caitlyn, an open-minded girl with parents loving her unconditionally. drifting to sleep after being kissed goodnight by her father, not having to wonder whether her parents would make it after tomorrow's work.

you used to envy her a lot as a child, seeing her trying to approach you made your blood boil, during your first year here as a 12 year old you quickly realized how different piltover was from your dreams. it was not a magical place where people came together for science regardless of origin. it was still as ruthless, if not even more. "her and her spoiled child antics" you though while she struggled making a conversation with a few girls from your class. you knew she was having a hard time with getting friends but you simply didn't care. a privileged girl born into one of the most wealthy families in one of the most advanced cities in whole runeterra is sad because everyone is so intimidated by the idea of talking to her? boohoo.

being an apprentice to the hollaran clan was not as easy as you actually though. funny, people'd think managing to get out of zaun, scraping your way to the topside would be a new page waiting to be turned. but it wasn't. it was studying for more hours, getting told off by others for doing minor mistakes, being looked down upon for being born to the hardships they created. you spent numerous nights simply crying, going to bed starving. not even being able to look at others kids from your same house in the eyes without being felt disgusting. but you still prayed to janna, you hoped she would keep your family safe, you begged her to help you find a way of these endless circles of suffering. and rest was history, being assigned research-mates with caitlyn after nearly 6 years of ignoring her, was the start of your ultimate plan.

first it was cait suggesting to meet up at a cafe to 'change the atmosphere a bit. she was simply cooped up in the huge private library of hers as the teacher's assistant' (you remember scoffing at the idea and caitlyn having to explain the impact of motivation. in your mind, there was no motivation. consistent hard work was all there is to it) then it was meeting up at the library after its closing hours, shushing caitlyn as she gets excited talking about detective work. exchanging notes in class, and you calling her 'ice queen'. caitlyn offering to go to the restroom with you, just to stand there and glare at people that talk behind your back. seeing her efforts, you started warming up too, and you soon realized caitlyn maybe wasn't as fortunate as you always made her to be. being born into money and royalty did not seem the best, especially when caitlyn started dozing off on your shoulders when she was too exhausted to study from taking house management classes. finding caitlyn at the academy infirmary, clearly dizzy but still compassionate and stubborn about 'not working enough'. you started purchasing snacks and pastries for her, trying out a new tea brew because you want to impress her, taking notes of interesting books you saw at the library just in case she wanted to take a look too.

and when you two started getting even more comfortable, your 'study dates' as she liked to call them, turned into you bringing your pajamas to her house for a sleepover. but even then, you were surprised to see new sides of caitlyn, who was becoming your best friend even faster then you thought. supposedly, she was never this intimate with other people. forget about going for a cup of tea, caitlyn did not even speak to anybody else from your studies. even though you didn't find that very surprising, her mother looked horrified while talking about it, making you question if caitlyn wished not to talk to them about these matters at all.

that being said, her parents were getting quite used to you as well. greeting you at the door themselves, asking for what you'd like to eat for dinner. you were ashamed, to put it plainly, for thinking that they would treat you differently just because you were a down people. but you also reassured yourself, being reminded that after nearly 6 years of coming up here, caitlyn was the only person to treat you like an individual. but nights when you cried yourself to sleep, hugging the extra blanked caitlyn gave you, trying not the sniffle so hard just because caitlyn insisted on sleeping together on the floor as a sleepover tradition. you thought about how your experience in the kiramman household was the closest thing you got the family bonds since forever. not from your patrons, professors, friends, not even your own family. but from the girl you tried so desperately to ignore because you were simply jealous of her.

her father coming to check on her after you two over-do it arguing about your classes was something that all household members were used to by that point. tobias was pleased by your presence, he acknowledged that his daughter often needed someone to listen to her talk about her obsessions and you being more than happy to just listen and nod was enough to make his heart melt. he urged caitlyn to invite you around more often, unknowingly also being the reason of her having to confess to you.

she was shy at first, cheeks all rosy while fidgeting with her fingers uncharacteristically. she pointed at the small sofa of her work room, inviting you to sit down. now taking tours around the room not daring to meet your eyes, she seemed adorable.

"you gonna start talking already or am I suppose to understand what's wrong from your body language as always?"

"ah, yes, pardon me. i didn't think you'd notice." you couldn't help but sigh very loudly. sure, you had a weird friendship with her -you were not even sure you could call it friendship honestly. it was as if she just picked you and started hanging around- but you already knew enough about her to know that caitlyn was not the one to chicken out from speaking her mind.

so after what felt like hours of waiting and playing with your fingers, she finally got up with new found confidence.

"you may move in with us. to our house, i mean. my parents already talked to house holloran about your apprentice-ship." taking a deep breath, relief spread to her face after finally blurting out what has been on her mind for weeks. she opened her eyes, excited, wanting to meet yours as soon as possible. but her smile dropped instantly at how hard you were gritting your teeth.

piltovians and their selfish wants. never once stopping to consider if their acts would hurt people, only caring if it's to their advantage. you wanted to believe it very badly, that maybe caitlyn was different. your first day at the academy made you hopeful of the little girl that saw nothing wrong with talking to a zaunite. but now she was standing there, arms trying to reach out to you, very hesitant. she's a mess as well, eyes frantically searching for any twitch of movement on your face, visibly tense, but even in times like these, she's trying to understand what she did wrong.

you didn't say anything, caitlyn was a smart girl, you knew she'd understand what you were thinking about just from how hard you were clenching your fists. you stared at her with utter disbelief in your eyes, angry words threatening to build up now. looking back at this exact moment in a few years you'd realize how much of a scene you were causing. this would be your dream!! "being considered a member of the kiramman family was not something everybody could dream of" is what you would've said if you were a 12 year old standing in front of a gate with a few belonging of yours. tears forming in your eyes as you made out silhouettes of your "housemates" looking at you with pity and disgust. you were nearly 19 now, having spent the last few years of life observing none other than the kiramman girl. looking at her family with envy at first, with sadness, yearning then love and finally disgust. somedays you wondered why you continued being friends with her, from being her project partners to today, of barely being together as actual friends for 5 to 6 months. and the answer was simple:

you didn't know. you didn't know why you hated seeing caitlyn all exhausted after an all-nighter, you hated seeing her get praised by superiors after taking a semi-good shot because you knew she did too, you hated seeing how pretty she looked with a dress suited for a princess -even when she complained about having to wear it. - she was the only person who cared for you without having any gains from it. caitlyn knew you were from the undercity, so she knew there wouldn't be much to receive from you money wise, and maybe, maybe she just wanted to help you have an easier life by living , but it couldn't reach that deep. not when you were hurt by her people.

your pride was taken from you long ago, but hearing caitlyn say those things as if she could be the one to make the decision was taking you back to some of the most painful memories. getting hit by the kitchen maids for wanting to snack before anyone could wake up, having to walk to the academy after failing to wake up just on time, not doing as you are told, not being at the place you were told to be.

you couldn't think of a word to say now, you couldn't stay here but you knew better than to just go back 'home'. so you just did a quick nod, just a nod. not one of the usual ones, caitlyn took note of. not a "caitlyn can you please stop talking about cats this is important nod." or a "i can't believe i'm friends with a nerd like you but mechanics is super hot please continue" nod. this was a nod to protest, to show how hurt you were. seeing you this defeated and disappointed was breaking her heart too. you were supposed to feel happy about it!

ms. kiramman has been doing arrangements for months only for this moment. caitlyn begged her parents to give you a chance despite them obviously being skeptical about your zaunite roots. she didn't talk to her dad for a whole week after he said "they couldn't trust a down born to be their daughter's friend." they only agreed at the cost of you also being accepted as an apprentice, though it would be a more fancy word for "servant." you would be in charge of the huge family library by caits special request since she always saw your eyes get instantly huge upon witnessing how comprehensive it was. cait thought you would fancy the idea, she did. just like how she fancied you.

she was always looking at you, from day one. caitlyn knew that you had a poro mascot that you enjoyed to doodle in a specific corner of your notebooks. she demanded to be waken up earlier by the servants, not because she was eager for school or anything, but had to sit at certain spot that looked over yours. she watched as you spent your whole education as a loner, not a desperate one, but you took pride in being able to be enough for yourself and caitlyn though highly of you because of it. she immediately tried to steal a glance off of you after making a joke to see if you were laughing or not. and yes maybe she did smile to herself thinking about you, looking at your space a bit too long, making sure that her touch lingers on your hands as she receives your paper work.

why did she keep comparing your schedules to see if you'd take literature together? or why did she insist on you taking the extra credit for a class that didn't even matter so that she, as the professor's assistant, could grade your work and possibly put a little smiley face on it? cait didn't know. one thing she knew though, was that 12 year old caitlyn would never cause you to have such a look on your face. she wouldn't make you insecure about anything that had to do with you. that's why she knocked on your door, now that room renovations were done as well. hoping that you'd actually open, but still understanding if you'd rather not to.

after waiting for a while, getting quite cold since she basically thought coming to your door without a second plan in mind or a pair of socks was a good idea, caitlyn sighed as she closed her eyes. resting her forehead on your door, not trying to be nosey or anything but still hopeful of you feeling the same way.

"cait?" it was so faint that she would've missed it if she stopped to process it. her heart started beating so fast that she was hearing it in her ear drums, steadying her voice to not scare you even further.

"yes?" no response, you're not even sure what you were going with this to be honest. the only thing you knew, hearing her familiar footsteps made you get up from the couch that you've been sitting on for the last few hours.

you had a lot of time to think, to plan, to conquer. even your own conscience telling you to make them all regret. living in a make believe dream made you lost to the truth and to yourself. a zaunite, always a zaunite. nothing but a spawn of filth on the eyes of those who made your lives so miserable. you've lived your life as if it depended on luck, not being sure if you'd be alive tomorrow only to come upstairs??? just to forget about how your people were suffering because of the silly parties that these rich people were having?? and you? what about you coming here with the promises of going back down, to have a better zaunite, only to be the house playmate of the girl that you liked? shame on you.

but your fog of darkness vanished as soon as you heard caitlyn knock, it was her habit to knock with a rhythm even thought it was not necessary at all. you felt lighter, your sorrows still fresh as new but you didn't seem to mind now, not with her. they weren't clouding your mind anymore, your vision was clearer than ever.

"i don't know if i can make you understand, cait." your voice was cracking with the emotions you struggled to keep, you wanted to look strong and undefeatable even when talking to the woman you loved. realizing that you fell in love in the middle of making a life changing decision wasn't helping with the whole 'keep calm' mindset either.

"i don't need to understand, i only need you to be okay." you yanked the door, wood harshly hitting the wall, echo spreading throughout the whole corridor. you looked terrible, night gown swaying with air that was coming from your slightly open window. caitlyn looked rough around the edges too, she always tried her best to be as emotionally available as possible but you were successful in seeing through the cracks. she was wearing the ugly fangirl shirt you got her for caitlyn's coming of age party. you still remembered how horrified her parents were despite caitlyn's loud laughter. she always told you about how she was using it as a pajama but you were never fortunate enough to see it with your eyes.

and there she stood, with her seraphine shirt and big bags under her eyes. your heart filled with the overwhelming urge to hold her as close as possible and yet, you stood your ground. your family was never the touch-feely type, they much preferred to argue over their emotions. so seeing caitlyn close the gap in between you, hugging hard enough to make you gasp for air, you finally felt at ease after nearly six years of being here. in front of caitlyn, you didn't need to put on a façade, you didn't need to look strong or hard to argue. after staying in the exact same position for long enough, feeling her hands softly gather around your waist, you whispered with the strength that was left in your body.

"i won't let anyone get in our way, cait." she tensed, sensing the venom in your tone. caitlyn wasn't sure if you were just speaking from pain or if you were actually serious. if only she could see your eyes, the ones that lost their color after being mistreated for your whole life. but they were shining now, a light that caitlyn was very familiar with.

you only had that type of look when you were successful in finding the formula to the theory that you've been working on, only when you received bad news from back home, only when you saw a few guys that bullied you in the past asking you for help.

the type of shine you had in your eyes only when you were about to change things in a way that would last forever.

[cinnamonnnbear]

Unchained Melodies

Part 2: Friends

Matthew 

Well, I fucked that up, who the fuck would ever invite a CHILD to get drinks with them. Matthew sat in the back seat of his bassist’s car. He was too drunk to drive, and the last time he did, he got a DUI. Matthew took a deep breath and looked out the window. He didn’t even know the kid’s name. “Hey Matthew,” His drummer grumbled out.

“What?” Matthew looked at the drummer, who was reading some book.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

“Oh, one of the guys from the band Or After, they won the award WE were supposed to get,” Matthew slurred the one word on purpose; the guy he met was excellent, but that was supposed to be their award of the night. 

“Eh, they have better music than us and are more diverse? I don’t know,” The drummer shrugged, never looking up from his book.

“What do you mean by diverse?” 

“Oh, the lead singer is openly gay, the drummer is deaf, and I think the bassist is like autistic or some shit,” the drummer looked unamused. 

“I mean, the bassist is cute,” The bassist of Matthew’s band hummed. Matthew had forgotten all of their names at this point. He had nicknames for them, but that was it. He called the bassist Bloody Fingers due to one time he started bleeding on stage during a show. He called the drummer hard hitter cause he broke his drum kit once due to hitting it too hard.

“She’s eh…” Matthew slurred out, thinking about the lead singer, “What’s their names anyway?” 

“I think the lead singer is Fennick Abernathy. The bassist and drummer are Montana and William Florance siblings,” Hard Hitter huffed out. Matthew nodded; he was thinking of Fennick. He thought about his blonde hair with streaks of orange highlights and his hazel eyes. Matthew sighed and smiled before realizing what he was thinking.

What am I doing? He’s a guy, and so am I. Matthew thought, Plus, I have a girlfriend; I can’t think things like that about someone I just met. He took a deep breath and looked out the window. 

Weeks later, Matthew saw Fennick again. Matthew went to a coffee shop down the street for a date with his girlfriend, Clarissa. Matthew walked into the coffee shop and saw Fennick waiting for his coffee at the counter; next to him stood Montana and William. He listened to their conversation.

“Monnnnn, I swear this one is different!” Fennick whined to Monica, but she just shook her head.

“Are you sure? He seems like every other cracked-up rockstar,” Monica crossed her arms, “I just don’t want you to get involved in all that stuff…”

“I won’t! I swear! I would never do any of that, yknow that,” Fennick smiled at Monica; God, Matthew wished that smile was to him.

“I know…It’s just what fame does to people,” Monica sighs and grabs a coffee off the counter, “This is yours, Will.” William smiled and took the coffee.

Matthew wanted to listen in more but was up at the counter, “Uhm, just a chamomile tea, please,” The barista nodded.

“That’ll be 2.50.” She sounded bored with her life; he couldn’t blame her. Matthew took the cash from his back pocket and handed it to her, “The name for the order?”

“Matthew,” He looked back where Fennick was, and just like he thought, Fennick was gone. Matthew walked to a table and looked out the window. Where was Clarrisa? She was usually late but never this late. 

“Matthew!” Clarissa yelled with a Valley girl accent, “There you are!!” Matthew looked at her and smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matthew stood up and pulled out a chair, “Come sit down, please.” 

“No! I’m not sitting down!” Clarissa raised her voice, God she’s high again, “You’re an asshole! You hid all of my stash!” 

“Yeah, for your good. So baby, just calm down,” Matthew put his hand on her shoulder. 

“How the fuck can I calm down?! I’m done with you!” Then he felt the sting of his cheek and her storming out of the shop. 

He looked around at his surroundings, and everyone was staring at him. “Sorry for the scene,” Matthew grabbed his tea from the counter and left the shop. He began the walk home; He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey…” Not now, please, It was Fennick’s voice. Matthew turned to look at him.

“Hey, coincidence to see you again,” Fuck He knew his voice was cracking.

“Yeah, it is. Are you okay? I saw what happened there.” Fennick looked worried as if he were concerned about Matthew.

“Yeah, I am,” Matthew took a deep breath, “I should get back to my apartment,” 

“Here, Take my number,” Fennick handed Matthew a piece of paper with his number scribbled on it, “Call me if you need, okay?” Matthew just nodded and walked off. I don’t need anything from anyone, not even him. But hey, now that Matthew has his number, does that mean they’re friends now?

[petertingle-yipyip]

DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER - MATT MURDOCK

four- new girl in town

tags: @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger // three // five // masterlist

Pairing: Daredevil x Exodus (Matt x Vigilante!Reader)

Word Count: 10,285

Summary: Helping an old friend leads to more trouble than it’s worth, especially when it interferes with the fate of a new friend. Dots are finally connected but is the outcome really worth it?

The next morning, you were dressing for your meeting with Elektra when a knock sounded at your door. You hurried over and opened it to find Karen outside your door with a cup holder full of coffees. You ushered her in before returning to your room to find your blazer.

“So I found out some stuff about Castle yesterday.” She explained from down the hall. “You were right about the DNR, but there’s also lots of government interest… His family.”

“That’s why he did all that, yknow.” You answered, coming back and shrugging your jacket on. “The people he went after were involved with their murder somehow. I just never got to finding out how.”

“You knew?”

“He mentioned his family last night before everything went to shit.” You shrugged as she handed you a cup. “You gonna keep digging?”

“Maybe… Should I? You think it’ll help anything?”

“I think Frank has the chance to push for trial. If I can get us in there, we can represent him and then both of us can try to help him…”

“I don’t know if the boys will wanna do that.”

“You in or not, Page? I can worry about the boys later.”

“I’m in if you are… You seem to be feeling better.” She tried with a hopeful smile.

“Just gotta keep going, yknow? If I let everyone decide who I am, I’ll never really know..” You sipped your drink with the hopes that the warm liquid would dull the cold regret sitting in your chest as you repeated your friend’s words. It didn’t. “Mmm, by the way, I'm gonna be late to the office today.”

Her brows raised in quiet accusation.

“Friend from college has a meeting and needs legal support.” You waved a hand. “It’s nothing bad… I hope.”

“Please tell me this is a Y/N thing and not an Exodus thing.” She sighed.

“It is. It’s just about releasing some family money from bad investments. I promise, everything will go through proper channels.”

“What about Matt and Foggy? Shouldn’t they know?”

“You can tell them or I’ll talk to them when I get in.” You shrugged. “They probably won’t be thrilled given who it is but it’s not up to them who I help out. To be fair, Matt would probably be more annoyed than Foggy cause he already told her no.”

“Yeah but if they don’t agree, isn’t it for good reason?”

“Usually I would agree with you and them, but this one isn’t just some-“

Your words were cut short when you heard a thump outside your door. Your head turned to the door and you listened carefully, hearing a light jingle as your doorknob shifted. It was easy to realize that someone was trying to pick the lock.

“Get on the other side of the couch.” You said slowly, reaching for the gun you taped under the table as you set down the cup. “Get down and stay quiet.”

Karen’s eyes went wide but she didn’t argue, moving across the living room quietly. Your mind raced as you inched closer to the door, wondering who it could be. Irish, maybe, settling for you since Frank was locked up. It could’ve been whatever was left of the Dogs of Hell if they saw you on that rooftop that night. But as you peaked out the peephole, you sighed and relaxed.

“I know you’re out there.” You called and leaned against the door, motioning to Karen that she could get up.

“I know you know I’m out here.” She answered as the jingling of your doorknob stopped.

“Then why are you trying to pick the lock instead of knocking?”

“Wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

“Funny.” You pushed yourself off and opened the door, crossing your arms as she stood. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“I didn’t come here to fight you.” She said honestly. “I just want to talk, Cousin.”

You sighed inwardly and stepped back into your apartment, tossing your gun on the table before leaning against your countertop. She followed you in and glanced around, offering a small wave to Karen as she plopped two thick envelopes on your table.

“Karen, this is my cousin. Natasha Romanoff.” You said, glaring at Natasha. “Natasha, this is my friend, Karen Page.”

“Holy shit.” Karen breathed. “The Avenger?”

“I haven’t seen her since she escaped the Red Room and left us for dead.”

“That’s not what happened.” Natasha argued.

“You left.” You scoffed. “You left and didn’t come back for any of us. You didn’t help any of us. She’s just a lair.”

“The Red Room is gone.” She urged and you could tell by her desperation that she believed it.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“You didn’t take down the Red Room! All you did was abandon us! He despised the rest of us even more after you left! It was practically impossible to escape.”

“But you did.”

“No.” You shook your head firmly. “I made him let me go. You have no idea what I’ve done to get here. You don’t get to act like a savior or a hero when you did nothing to help us.”

“We rigged bombs and-“

“Who’s we?” You scoffed.

“Clint Barton.. It was the final step in my defection to SHIELD.”

“Whatever clears your ledger, hmm? By the way, where’s Yelena? If you’re so sure that place is gone…” You countered and her emotions dropped to disappointment, regret. “You can find me but not your sister?”

“You’re not exactly subtle.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you in the papers.”

“Чего ты хочешь, кузен? У меня нет на это времени.” You groaned and stepped closer, flattening your hands on the table. (Why are you here, Cousin? I don’t have time for this.)

“Извините, у вас уже были планы убивать людей?” She asked sarcastically. (Sorry, did you have plans to kill people already?)

“Нет, но если ты будешь продолжать злить меня, это можешь быть ты.” (No, but if you keep pissing me off, it can be you.)

“Ты что-то другое.” (You’re something else.)

“Просто скажи, что ты сказал, чтобы я мог забыть, что это когда-либо случалось. Вроде как ты забыл, что мы существуем.” (Just say what you came here to say so I can forget this ever happened. Kinda like how you forgot we existed.)

“Y/N.” Karen said at your side. You were so focused on arguing with Natasha that you hadn’t realized she came over. “It’s from the Supreme Court and the New York Courts.”

“My attorney registration and character review.” You realized, sliding the two envelopes apart. “Why did you have these?” You turned on Natasha.

“Your guy at the London safe house gave ‘em to Rick.” She explained with a slight smirk. “Said that he didn’t know how to get a hold of you anymore.”

“Marc?” Your brows furrowed. “Or Steven?”

Natasha shrugged.

“Who are Marc and Steven?” Karen asked you.

“Friends.” You said simply. “Thanks, Natasha. I needed these.” You grabbed the envelopes and shoved them in your bag. “Anything else?”

“Actually, there is.” She nodded. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Excuse me?”

“You hated what we did and now you’re doing it by choice.”

“Meaning?”

“I know you’re Exodus. I’d recognize those gauntlets anywhere.”

“And what if she didn’t?” You jerked your head towards Karen and Natasha hesitated, mouth opening for an apology but saying nothing. “What’s your point?”

“You don’t have to-“

“I don’t want to hear it from you. I was his right hand and you were his left so don’t act like you’re so high above me. What I do now is my choice.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“What I do helps people! For once in my goddamn life, I am in control. I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own. But the papers don’t show that part, do they? Just the bodies left behind.” You shook your head, checking your phone to see a text from Elektra about the car out front. “I get enough lecturing and preaching from Daredevil, I don’t need to add hypocrisy from you to the list, too. Lock the door on your way out.”

You slammed the door behind you and hurried out to the car. Inside, Elektra waited for you. You two rode in relative silence after she passed you the folder.

“The research you asked for.”

You flipped the pages and found hard copies of the dealings between her father and Roxxon. You found their corporate ladder, names, and addresses. Everything you needed was there and more. You two were easily ushered into the building, cleared by security, and taken to the conference room.

“I’m sure you all have places to be, things to do. With your wives, your mistresses, but I have questions.” Elektra said smoothly as she twisted open her pen.

There was a sudden feedback ringing through your implant that you tried your best to ignore. You pressed your finger against the scar and the feedback slowly faded away, but that didn’t mean your ears weren’t lightly ringing the whole time.

“The first thing I want to address is this subsidiary.” You said, pulling the list from your folder and pointing out one. “What exactly is it?”

“A medical company.” One of the men answered simply, confident that it would be sufficient.

You chuckled in light annoyance. “What do they do?” You pressed.

“Studies.”

“How specific.” Elektra commented.

“Research for pain relievers, treatments for diseases. The name of which I mostly can’t pronounce.”

The man lied with such ease you wondered if he truly believed it.

“Right, well good thing I can read then. If that’s the case, what organizations are backing the research and testing? And where can I find the preliminary drafts of their research papers?” You asked as two men burst through the door in a panic that they tried to smother. “And also, I’m curious about your acquisition process. There’s no real system or theme here and I would assume, a company as large as yours, would have a specific criteria before investing. How does a ‘medical company’ fit into Roxxon’s long term business plan?”

The lingering sound in your ear finally faded as Elektra closed and hid her pen, making you wonder what type of pen that really was. You two were ushered out under the guise of “something coming up”. Once you got back into the car, you turned to Elektra.

“What’s with the pen?” You asked, nodding to her bag. “It made my ears ring.”

“Your ears?” She mused. “Interesting.. It’s a nifty little trick that crashes nearby servers. But now I’m wondering… What’s in that head of yours that-“

“It’s an implant, like a bluetooth.” You cut in. “It just picked up the signal, I guess.”

Subconsciously, your finger ghosted the region of your scar. You hated getting the implant but you had utilized it often in your recent endeavors. You had taken control of that piece of the Red Room you’d never get rid of. If you lost that advantage… You didn’t want to think of how you would have to adjust, the added caution you’d have to take.

“Mmm.” She hummed.

“You didn’t really need my help today, did you?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged. “But don’t worry. Your little firm can keep the money.”

“It wasn’t really about the money, El.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes. “I thought you-“ You sighed. “I hoped you were being honest, for once. I hoped I was getting my friend back.”

“Now that one stung a bit.” She pouted. “We’ve always been friends, Y/N.”

“Until I left, right?”

“Even then… I’m sorry, but I knew you wouldn’t have come if I told you the truth.”

“For exactly this reason!” You insisted. “I told you, I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t just cut and dry. But you lied.. Why were we really there?”

“Today, we infiltrated Asano, Roxxon’s Japanese branch.” She explained proudly. “With that little bug I planted, I’m pretty sure they’ll come for me but I’m not staying at a building in my name so as far as they’ll know, they’ll just be going after a hacker.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Probably Yakuza.” She shrugged.

“I could’ve sworn Daredevil took care of that a while ago.” You shook your head. “I burned who I assume was the leader alive months ago.”

“Apparently that wasn’t enough.”

“Why not just divest the money and be done? Easiest way, get off scot free and you wouldn’t have had to pay me for doing literally nothing.”

“Because that’s a coward’s way out. Would you do it that way?” She challenged and you pushed your tongue against your cheek as you thought about it. “Exactly. Somebody screwed with me, Y/N, and I don’t like that. Women like us aren’t taken seriously unless we make them. Everyone we meet just wants to sleep with us but I know what you and I are capable of, especially together.”

One thing about Elektra was that she was so damn convincing. The girl was hardly ever told no because she could talk her way into the presidency on a random Tuesday if it’s what she wanted. As irritating as she was, you respected how cunning and determined she had always been.

“And the Yakuza… If they come for you, what are you gonna do then?”

“Fight back, same way I always have… Will you?”

“Will I what?” You scoffed.

“Will you fight with me? We stand together and no one will dare stand against us… Tell me that kind of respect doesn’t entice you.”

“Lately, I’ve been hoping from one war to another. What’s one more tally to add?” You shrugged.

She grinned over at you.

“But I’m not going alone. He didn’t finish this so he needs to be there to clean up the rest of his mess.”

“Who? Daredevil?” Her brows raised teasingly as you pulled up to your apartment building. “You trust him?”

“In a fight, yeah.”

“But not in general?”

“I learned to only trust my friends. I’m hoping you fit in there, too..”

“So who is the man under the mask after all, hmm?”

“Don’t know, don’t care… But you can ask him yourself if it bothers you.” You winked and exited the car before she could ask you anything else.

The rest of the day was relatively calm. Foggy told you that Matt left early for some secret potential client and no one else was coming in, so he was going to leave early. Karen was out doing more Punisher research, which only left you sitting in your apartment.

You decided to open the envelopes Natasha had brought that morning. Pulling them from your bag, you found two small notes written hastily in pencil. Remembering that it came from the London safe house, it was easy to tell the two handwritings apart.

Marc and Steven.

i knew you could do it, xx :) -SG <3

PROUD OF YOU - M

Their short sentiments made your heart yearn, tugging in your chest like someone on the other side had a string attached to it. Your fingers traced their initials, chuckling slightly when you noticed Marc didn’t add an ‘S’. He knew you would know it was him.

Maybe you should call them soon…

You opened the envelopes - careful not to tear the little notes - and admired the papers that always seemed a thousand miles away. Your official approval by the Courts. Your Bar License.

It all felt so surreal to be a real lawyer. It drove a poker into your chest as you realized that it made Exodus that much riskier. Sure, you put your life on the line whenever you slapped that mask on but you could handle that. You defied death more times than anyone really should. Now, not only were your friends potentially at risk if anyone found out, your career was at risk. You could lose everything you had just gotten.

Made you wonder if it was worth it, helping people that way versus the way you and the boys always talked about. Helping through Nelson and Murdock. But if the DA had her high heels on the firm’s throat until the Punisher conviction was done, did it really matter what you did?

Besides, getting disbarred would probably be the best case scenario if everything went wrong.

Regardless, the night fell quickly and you were on the rooftop of your building in your suit. You tapped your burner against your palm as you argued with yourself about calling him. You sat on the ledge and kicked your feet aimlessly, thinking how far you could throw the phone.

You hated the thought of him. You wanted nothing to do with him. But you only knew vaguely of the Yakuza. It wasn’t enough to mount a full offense and help Elektra. Even with her skills and strength, could you two handle highly trained Japanese assassins? Especially not knowing how deep they would come against you? How aggressive they would be?

Maybe… Probably. But to be certain, you needed Daredevil.

You pressed the button and slid your finger over your scar, waiting for the dial tone. You let out a sigh of relief as you heard his voice in your head as he answered.

“And here I thought you didn’t want to talk to me again.” He said sarcastically.

“I don’t.” You agreed and shoved the phone into your belt. “But this is your mess that you didn’t finish. It’s not about me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yakuza.”

“We- I ended the Yakuza.”

“No, you were being hacked to pieces like a chunk of meat at a butcher shop while I burned their leader alive. Looks like they just took a step back to recover… A man who fights and walks away is a man who fights another day.”

“Goddamnit.” He groaned. “Wait, how do you know?”

“I may have gone with a friend this morning to stir up some trouble.” You shrugged and he scoffed. “It’s none of your business who I work with. It never was.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’ve made that perfectly clear. What do you need me for?”

“I need you to get to her and make sure she’s not targeted tonight. She’s at a penthouse in Midtown.”

“A penthouse? In Midtown?” He repeated in disbelief. “Are you-“ He laughed in annoyance. “Are you talking about Elektra Natchios?”

You made a face to yourself before you answered.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you know her but yes, Elektra.”

“That’s not really ignor-“

“Moving on!” You said loudly to cut him off. “Will you do this or not?”

“Why should I?”

“Because you know her.” You said simply. “And now that I know you know her, I also know you won’t leave her to fend for herself against God knows how many well trained Japanese assassins.”

“God, you’re manipulative!” He said loudly, angrily.

“Are we done here?” You deadpanned. “You know you love it on the downlow, especially if you know or like Elektra.”

“You’re obnoxious, too.” He continued.

“Glad you finally noticed. What’s next? Gonna call me crazy? Well I’d save your breath on that one. You don’t have to cause I already know. Are we done?”

“Okay, fine.” He huffed. “I’ll head over.”

“… Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

“No, course not.” You smiled to yourself. “That would mean I still matter.”

“Why'd you call me anyway?” He asked quietly, genuinely.

“I don’t have any other allies.” You shrugged, your voice sounding distant. You hadn't stopped to think that you were relatively lonely. “You put Frank in jail and anyone else I know that can fight is nowhere near here.”

“So I was your last resort?” He chuckled.

“Pretty much.” You agreed and climbed to your feet. “I’ll head over too, soon as I can. But don’t think this changed anything.”

“No… Course not.”

You ended the call before he could say anything else. Really, you didn’t know if Daredevil could get to Elektra before you could, but you knew having two bodies headed that way would have a better outcome than one. Plus, he had a bit more experience with the Yakuza than you did. Looking at the situation as a whole, bringing Daredevil in had the best possible outcomes.

When you finally reached Elektra’s building, you looped your wire through your belt before securing the hook into the ground. You dropped down, allowing the heels of your boots to skid across the widows as you watched for Elektra’s or Daredevil’s silhouette. It was about the ninth floor - hard to tell from the outside - when you found them already engaged in a fight. You detached the wire and dropped to the balcony, allowing yourself in through the glass double doors.

Elektra and Daredevil were both busy with their own fights, but the third Yakuza member noticed you come in. He hopped off the counter and came at you quickly with his chained weapon. You side-stepped his shot and hooked your hand around the chain. You pulled him forward and punched him in the nose with your chain-wrapped hand. The sick crack echoed through the room and you smirked at the sound.

You ducked under his sloppy swing and wrapped the chain around his neck. You kicked out his knee and yanked the chain up, hearing him cough and gag loudly. You felt the shape blade slice through your glove and your hold on the chain faltered. He tried to get free but you refused to let him, flipping over his shoulder instead and landing both of you on your sides. You shoved your foot between your bodies and pushed him away before angling your wrist and firing your Bite square against his forehead.

You unwrapped the chain from your hand once the man slumped over and got to your feet. You held your bleeding hand to your chest and moved to Elektra and Daredevil as they finished their own fights.

“Hungry?” Elektra asked with an excited smile.

“We need to finish it off.” You said, glancing around for one of the guns with a silencer.

“Relax.” She said easily. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere. And I like the little accent. It’s cute.”

“I didn’t come here to socialize.” You sighed as you let Daredevil grab your hand and gingerly prod at your wound. “I only came here to make sure they didn’t put a bullet in your head. Clearly, you didn’t need me.” You shrugged.

“Seems to be a running theme, don’t you think?”

“I hate you.” You groaned and took your hand back without a word. You stepped over the unconscious bodies until you found their silencer. You lifted it and pulled the trigger four times, once into each of their heads. “Now we’re done.. Good night.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Daredevil called after you. “You know that.”

“I don’t care.” You spat over your shoulder as you headed towards the double doors you entered in. “The Yakuza have to have their sights on something bigger. They’ll keep coming if you leave them alive to run and tell their little friends.”

“They do have a bigger plan, if you’re interested.” She called, making you stop with a hand on the door. “I’m not going anywhere so you can either work with me or stay out of my way. I could use some partners.”

You spun slowly on your heels with a disbelieving chuckle.

“You come to me, ask for his help and mine, and then threaten me.” You warned. “Now you want to turn around and ask to be partners? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t need partners.” Daredevil scoffed.

“Clearly.” She gestured to you and Daredevil. “But I do. You two are the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Pair your skills with my knowledge, we can hit them fast and hard. They won’t have a chance against all of us.”

“Then you’re gone?” You asked carefully as you weighed your options.

Daredevil scoffed. “Anything for the right price, huh?”

“One night. All I ask is one night where you don’t make me want to punch you in the damn mouth.” You said tightly before focusing back on your conversation with Elektra. “Will you leave… him alone?”

“Who? Matthew?” Her brows raised and you scowled, earning a chuckle from her. “Yes, yes. I’ll leave and I won’t bother you or Matthew again. But I don’t think he’d be too keen on you making that choice for him.”

“He’ll never know it because you’re going to keep your mouth shut… Unless you wanna try and talk to him when your jaw is wired shut.

“Wait.. Matthew?” Daredevil turned to you but you ignored him.

“So we’re in agreement.” Elektra announced happily.

“Hold on.” Daredevil snapped out of his thoughts. You wondered momentarily what gears were turning in his head but you didn’t care to ask.. “I happen to respect human life.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“If we do this, you both-“ He pointed to you and Elektra. “-have to at least pretend to feel the same way… Nobody dies.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned.

“Understand?”

“Perfectly.” Elektra nodded.

“Ex?”

“Я действительно тебя ненавижу. И я не следую твоему правилу.” You ran a hand over your mouth. (I really hate you. And I’m not following your rule.)

“Exodus.” He said firmly.

“Everything I do depends on the circumstances. I promise nothing. If it comes down to my life or theirs, I’ll choose myself every time.”

“Yeah, you always do.”

“Guess that’s why you’re still alive, huh?”

You pushed through the double doors and reconnected your wire. As the doors were floating shut, you heard one last line from Elektra.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told her.” She laughed.

As you were climbing up to the roof, it made you wonder. Clearly, she was talking to Daredevil but who was she talking about? Was she surprised that he hadn’t told you who he was? Or had she figured it out and she was surprised whoever was under the mask didn’t tell Y/N? But the only guy that connected you two was Matt. And what did Daredevil care about a guy named Matthew anyway?

Matt couldn’t be Daredevil… Could he?

The next morning, you were in the conference room with Karen and Foggy. The man slid the small paper bundle to Karen about what happened with the shooting at Metro General. You peaked at it over her shoulder while

talking to the man.

“Are you new to New York, Mr. Roth?” You asked casually, though the look Foggy gave you showed that he knew you were poking around for something to undercut him with.

“Born and raised.” He answered quickly, almost defensively. Your brow quirked and you could see on his face that he was worried he said something wrong.

“And this is your first case? Pretty big one for a newbie.” You almost smiled.

“Uh, second actually. I won my first. Domestic violence… I believe in protecting women.”

“Thanks from all of us.” Karen said absently as you made a face. “This says Castle pursued me down the stairwell but I went down and he went up.”

Roth frantically tried to uncap his pen and scribble notes.

“Also I didn’t escape on foot. I had a car. I know I told NYPD about that.”

“Mhmm. Mhmm.”

“I also wasn’t Castle’s only target. That’s just flat out wrong.”

“What about Grotto?” You asked, leaning over to see the statement.

“Where did you get my statement from?” Karen challenged.

“Grotto?” He asked.

“Ты, должно быть, шутишь.” You groaned quietly. “Grote. Elliot Grote.” (You’ve got to be kidding me.)

“Oh! He’s right here under the victims list. Yeah, Ballistics matched him to one of the many guns connected to Frank Castle.”

“Are you sure the ballistics match?” You questioned, thinking back to that night on the rooftop. You remembered pulling your own gun, not using one of Frank’s.

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”

“But you didn’t read the report yourself?”

He shook his head.

“So if the report noted a soviet slug with no casing and someone called you on this, you wouldn’t have an answer? Those kinds of bullets are meant to be untraceable so how could they link back to Castle?”

“I- Um- Uh, I’m sorry, Ms…”

“Hmm?” You hummed, proud that you got to him so easily.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Just an example from an old textbook.” You shrugged.

“No. No, it wouldn’t be true. All the ballistics match.”

“In any case, matching ballistics alone, technically, wouldn’t prove he’s the shooter.” You pointed out and leaned your elbows on the table. “Just proves the same weapon.”

“But a guy like Castle isn’t gonna let his guns get into someone else’s hands.”

“Unless he had no more use for that gun. A man who was that active had to have a rotating artillery. And who’s to say that they’re all registered, let alone registered to him. There could be an unnamed third party involved. You don’t really have a lot of experience here, do you, Mr. Roth?” You smiled as you felt his nerves ignite.

“It is my first, uh, murder case. Yes.” He answered nervously.

“And do you know Frank Castle, Mr. Roth? Other than what the DA and the media have told you, of course.”

“What?” He swallowed hard as you saw Matt enter the office.

“I’m just saying…” You shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve done too much work on this outside of what you’ve been spoon-fed. You had the right to refuse this case, maybe pay a fee if the judge didn’t find your basis adequate, and keep on pushing. But you took it anyway… Why?”

“Early start?” Matt asked with a small smile as he heard the pressure you were carefully placing.

Matt once explained the way you talked to people like Jenga. He said that you were carefully adding and moving new pieces until the entire thing fell apart.

“This is Christopher Roth, the public defender on the Castle case.” Karen introduced.

“I uh.” Roth refused to make eye contact with you again. “I just came to get Ms. Page’s signature on this statement. Once we get that, we’re all done.”

“With this meeting.” Karen specified.

“With this case.” Roth corrected.

“Excuse me?” You chimed in as Matt asked “How so?”

“Castle’s awake. Soon, he’ll plead guilty then it’s open and shut.”

“Open and shut is good.” Foggy nodded. “New York‘ll sleep better when it knows Frank Castle is behind bars. I know I will.”

You slumped back in your chair with arms crossed. You stared at the table in thought, wondering how to get Roth away from the case and you on it.

“Sleep even better when he’s dead.”

“Dead?” Your head popped up. “New York doesn’t have the death penalty.”

“But Delaware does.” Roth answered slowly. You liked that you intimidated him already and you knew that would make it easier for you to get rid of him.

“The I-95.” You sighed and leaned an elbow on the table, rubbing your fingers against your forehead. “Someone hit the Dogs of Hell on I-95.”

“DA Reyes just has to link the killings to Castle and he can be extradited.”

“Are you and DA Reyes friends?” Foggy chimed in.

“I met her once”. He nodded.

“When?”

“Yesterday, when the judge assigned me to the case.”

“How is she going to connect Castle to the I-95 incident?” You asked. “From my understanding of the event, no one from the Dogs of Hell made it back from that run. Meaning no credible witness, only hearsay.”

“But if motive, ballistics, and lack of alibi all line up, there won’t be a need for a witness… DA Reyes is the one who caught the Punisher.”

“She didn’t catch him.” You scoffed. You almost said that you and Daredevil did, but then you remembered that wasn’t common knowledge. “Brett Mahoney did.”

“Still, she’s not going through all these paces to not put the final nail in his coffin.”

“Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, Delaware extradites him.” You said, waving a hand as you spoke. “Would you, Mr. Roth, be able to continue life knowing you helped sentence a man to death? That you didn’t even try to help?”

“Uh- I- No, it wouldn’t be me that did it.” He argued, though his reasoning wasn’t very solid. “I just- I’m doing my job, Miss.”

“Doing your job means defending your client. This isn’t defending him! This is handing him over on a silver platter.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Roth.” Karen announced, sliding the papers back. “I can’t sign this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“We’ll be in touch.” You offered a tight, fake smile before he left.

“That statement he wanted me to sign? Complete work of fiction.” Karen said as she began pacing the room.

“How much you wanna bet Reyes wrote it herself?” You snorted.

“It’d make sense.” Matt agreed carefully, like he had to walk on eggshells around you since your argument the night before. “Keeps Reyes looking clean.”

“We could write an anonymous letter to the judge, get them to assign a new public defender.” Foggy offered.

“Or I can just do it myself.” You muttered with a small shrug.

“No.” Foggy pointed to you.

“Oh, come on.” You tried. “We don’t even have to really defend him. We could just negotiate a plea deal.”

“Something without extradition or the electric chair.” Matt agreed. “Castle still goes away. Reyes gets her ticker-tape parade. Everyone wins.”

“Yeah, everyone except us.” Foggy pressed. “The open sign is up but nobody is walking in. If we keep messing with Reyes, we’ll be shuttered by the end of the month.”

“If we stand up to her, we can put an end to her incessant bullying!” Matt urged.

“And save this guy’s life.” Karen added.

“A murderer who shot at you.” Foggy countered.

“For reasons that I don’t fully understand yet.” She answered smoothly.

“He wasn’t shooting at her. He was shooting at Grotto.” You reasoned. “As bad as this is gonna sound, if he wanted to shoot Karen, he would’ve. You gotta remember he’s not some idiot with a handgun.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Foggy insisted.

“Roth said Castle is gonna plead guilty, right? So we get in there. We talk to him first.” Matt planned.

“Ask him questions like what really happened to his family and why Reyes wants him dead.” Karen continued.

“We can build a fair plea and show the DA our justice system still has a backbone.”

“This is a bad idea, Matt.” Foggy said firmly.

“Alright, enough!” You cut in. “If you don’t want to do this, Foggy, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna force you. But I will, whether you guys are on my side or not.”

“I’m with Y/N.” Karen nodded.

“You can’t defend him, Y/N.” Foggy sighed and you felt his resolve crumbling. You just had to push a little farther and he’d agree. “Not on your own, not without a license. You know that..”

You glanced to Karen who offered a small nod of encouragement.

“Unless you know something else that you haven’t told

us?” Foggy tried when he caught the look you gave Karen.

Without a word, you stepped past Matt and into the main office where you left your bag. You dug through your bag for your wallet and flipped through it as you came back into the conference room. Your fingers closed around the card so you pulled it out and dropped it on the table.

“I actually can defend Frank.” You said proudly as Foggy picked up the ID. “Perfect chance to test those concentrations in defense and litigation.”

“Is that..” Matt asked as he reached for the card.

“My Bar license.” You nodded as Foggy handed the card back to you so you passed it to Matt.

“When did you even take the Bar?”

“When I first got back into town a while back.” You said honestly as he gave you back your card and shoved it away. “I didn’t plan on staying in New York after the exam. I was gonna go back to London and take some conversion courses but I ended up staying. Everything came in yesterday I think… Look, you guys talk it over but I’m going to see Castle today no matter what you decide. And I’ll do it as an independent party if I have to.”

You thought you felt jealousy from Matt but you figured you were mistaken so you said nothing about it. What was his deal against Frank?

“I won’t connect Nelson and Murdock to this case unless you’re both on board with it.” You added honestly.

“You’re already connected to the firm. You’re a paralegal here.” Foggy explained.

“So fire me. I’ll take the case and when it’s over, you can hire me back.”

“You’re too damn stubborn, you know that?” Foggy sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah.” You smiled with a shrug. “You should be used to it by now.”

You nodded to Karen and she followed you out of the room, closing the door behind her. You sighed and tossed your wallet towards your bag. You looked up and saw Karen smiling at you. You shook your head with a smile of your own.

“Now that it’s official, can we throw you that party?” Karen teased.

“Let me get Castle off the chopping block first then we’ll talk.” You laughed.

“You’re just stalling.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a party if I know my friend is gonna die.”

After whatever conversation Matt and Foggy had, they were both willing to help defend Castle. The walk to the hospital was quick but it was still plenty of time to mull over the potential of Matt being Daredevil. When you really sat and thought about it, it made enough sense.

The night when Nobu nearly killed Daredevil, Matt claimed he got hit by a car and had a very familiar gash on his side. The morning after Frank shot Daredevil in the head, Matt called off and lost his hearing for a bit. Even the way he talked to Frank on that rooftop, the intention and care he spoke with, it practically slapped you in the face when you thought back on it.

Adding on, Daredevil had a connection to you outside the suit and cared what you thought about him and Exodus. The way Matt listened, paid attention to small things that nobody else did, it reminded you of Daredevil when you thought of them side by side. Elektra mocked him for not telling some version of you the truth. And maybe the most obvious piece…

Foggy knew Daredevil.

You stole a glance at Matt as your group was in the elevator headed up to Frank’s floor. You tried to picture him in the red suit, with the little devil horns and hidden eyes. But every time you saw him, all you could think was how much you adored him. Even if you two were changed, a shifted dynamic that allowed him to date Karen instead - which made you happy to see them happy together - you adored him. You loved him. You always would.

But for him to be Daredevil? That would change everything.

“…did theater in summer camp-” Foggy ranted, drawing your attention back to the current moment. “-which is exactly the type of thing these reporters will find out if they start digging into me.”

“They’ll find the two community theater musicals I did.” You shrugged as the elevator dinged. “Maybe they’ll call us something catchy.”

“You’re not funny.” Foggy deadpanned.

“I’m hilarious.”

“You did musicals?” Karen teased.

“Chicago and Hairspray.” Matt answered with a small smile. “Right?”

“Yeah. Chicago was a good one.” You nodded. “Cell Block Tango. Very inspirational.”

You were about to hold out your arm to walk with him but he reached for Karen instead. You bit down the twinge of sadness and stepped out in front of them instead. You zoned out a bit as Foggy and Matt were talking to Brett, until he tried to usher you four back downstairs.

“I want to represent Frank Castle.” You spoke up. “The public defender is a joke and I believe that I have better resources to defend him and his best interest.”

“Nelson and Murdock is better equipped as a whole.” Matt agreed, reaching over to tap you.

You weren’t sure if it was intended to ask you to calm down or to let you know they were behind you.

“Listen, every firm in the city has passed this case by. You’re chasing the wrong ambulance.”

“DA wants death penalty.” You spoke quietly, folding your hands behind your back. “She’s willing to extradite him out of New York to get it.”

“The public defender is practically begging to roll over and let her do it.” Karen added.

“We figure he’d respond to our strategy of keeping him alive.” Foggy shrugged.

There was certain hesitation bubbling inside of Brett but you could see through it to his belief. He believed that you guys would be best for Frank Castle because even though Frank blew holes through a good amount of the city’s population, Brett knew taking his life wouldn’t bring anyone back. He knew that wasn’t justice.

Your group was searched again, as well as your bags. You found yourself glad that you were too tired to grab your usual pocket knife or small handgun, only a couple of your shock discs were in your purse but they were tucked in a pocket under a pile of change. You were given a quick rundown of rules and expectations for going in before Brett opened the door. Your whole group seemed to freeze at the door for a moment so you took the initiative and stepped in first. Karen came second with Matt in tow and Foggy right behind.

You walked right up to the tape line, the toes of your shoes dancing at the edge. You glanced down and smiled to yourself before walking the line to stand as close to his bedside as you could.

You weren’t worried about getting too close to Frank. He was cuffed to the bed and regardless of that, he knew you. You two began your work together without the mask so he wouldn’t hurt you. The only reasons you stayed back was to not raise any questions among your group or have the cops outside the door burst in and cut your meeting short.

“Frank?” You said simply. “Sorry, Mr. Castle. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I have my associates with me.” You gestured to your friends.

“Matthew Murdock.” Matt nodded and Frank’s brows furrowed as recognition crossed his features.

“Karen Page.” She smiled nervously.

“Franklin Nelson.” He waved slightly.

“Yeah.” Frank said, looking back to Matt then to you. “I know who you are….” Your brows raised as a small smile crossed your lips. “You protect shitbags.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You chuckled and he cracked the smallest smile. “But maybe that’s why we’re here. We’d like to make you an offer.”

“You think I’m a shitbag?” He joked and you shook your head with an amused eye roll. “Or you think I need protecting?”

“I think you need my help… Our help.”

“We don’t need money for our services. We’re not looking for fame or free advertising.” Matt added. “We don’t have to be here. Weren’t even assigned to your case.” Matt shrugged.

“So why are you?” Frank asked, though he seemed to be talking to you. “Hmm? Why are.. Why are you worried about me?”

“Look around.” You gestured to your friends. “We’re the only ones who are.”

“You’re very good at making powerful enemies, Mr. Castle.” Matt egged and you felt a strange irritation welling up inside him though it seemed he smothered out within a few seconds. You wished he would just shut up and let you do the talking.

“But we can be pretty strong allies.”

“The day you were admitted to Metro-General for the round you took to the head, a do-not-resuscitate order was placed on you.”

“And a shoot-to-kill order, just a few days ago.” Foggy added on from near the door.

Him and Karen were uncertain, scared to be in the same room. But Matt was practically as calm and confident as you had ever felt him to be, save for a few spikes every now and then. It was all the more reason the Daredevil idea made sense. And you hated it.

“Both orders were issued by the District Attorney.” You explained.

“And the fact that she’s had it in for us since we started asking questions tells us we’re on the right track. Someone in the DA’s office wants to dead, Mr. Castle, and we’d like to know why.”

“I’d like to take on your case.” You said honestly. “All of us, we can soften your sentence and give you a shot. In the process, maybe even find out who’s responsible for what happened to you… All of it.”

“We’re talking about your life here, Mr. Castle.” Matt added.

“Like you did for Grotto, hmm?” Frank scoffed. “What good that do him?”

“We did what we could.” You said quietly with a warning glare, though Frank knew better than that. You did, however, start to wonder if he would say something in regards to what you did that night. “You ask me, he was gonna bite the bullet sooner or later.”

“Not very lawyerly of you to say.” Frank turned to you.

“Yeah, but I meant it.”

The sound of Karen’s heels on the tile drew your attention as she stormed to his bedside and shoved a photo in front of him.

“You want answers? So do we but none of us will get them if you’re dead.” She insisted. “Don’t they deserve that?”

“Where did you get that?” Frank asked quickly, near a panic.

You pushed your way between them and put your hands on both of her shoulders. You walked her back until Matt came up behind her and took hold of her arms. You glanced down at the picture and glared at her. Once her eyes met yours, you saw the guilt cast a shadow over her features.

“From your home.” She admitted.

You wiggled your fingers behind your back to keep Frank calm. Looking back to him, you saw his expression was almost heart broken. Betrayed, even. Maybe those were the feelings you should’ve moderated instead, but you thought Karen should see the results of the line she crossed.

“You were in my home?” He asked in an eerily calm tone, thanks to you. “Why were you in my house?”

You heard DA Reyes yelling in the hall so you spoke quickly. Your hand stilled and seemingly, everything else in the room did too. You snapped back from the moment quickly and hurried to Frank’s side, this time ignoring the tape and cuffs as you grabbed his hand.

“Someone is lying about what happened to your family, Frank.” You insisted. “Please, let me help… For Lisa and Frank Jr. For Maria.”

“You four, out! Now!” Reyes screamed as she barged in.

You hesitated beside your friend as his eyes searched your face. You didn’t know what he was looking for but you knew your eyes were pleading. He gave the smallest of sighs and nodded as you were grabbed by your arm and hauled out of the room.

“Are you serious?” You pulled Karen aside and urged quietly. “You went into his home?”

“You wanted answers! I found them!”

“I didn’t ask you to violate his privacy like that!” You hissed. “And that little stunt right there-“ You pointed to the room. “-could’ve gone a lot worse if I didn’t keep it under control.”

“Frank wasn’t going to-“ She tried but you held up a hand to stop her.

“His home was the last untouched thing his family left behind.” You said sadly. “You think he would wanna know that someone he didn’t know was in there snooping around?”

“Elliot Grote.” Reyes pointed out, arrogance oozing off her like slime and to drew you to that conversation. “You can’t represent Castle when one of his victims was your former client.”

“Alleged victim.” Foggy corrected.

“Representing Grotto might’ve complicated matters but then again, all evidence of our work with him and our deal with you has disappeared from the public record.” Matt smoothly added.

“It’s almost as if someone didn’t want it known that you violated a witpro contract, jeopardized the safety of said witness, and ordered a shoot-to-kill on Castle. I guess it all would’ve been fine if it had worked out, could’ve played it off as an ambush… But, please, by all means.” You smiled and held your hands out to the side. “Feel free to confess to all of that in your conflict of interest complaint.”

“Who are you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You held a hand to your chest and mocked her with a bow. “Defense attorney and litigation specialist.”

She scoffed. You could tell she was going to like you.

“Our case files back up our story. How’s your side looking?” Foggy asked.

Reyes was being backed into a corner and you could feel the tension buzzing through your muscles.

“The fact of the matter is, Ms. Reyes, the only person who shouldn’t be here is you. Seeing as it’s a breach of ethics for the prosecuting attorney to communicate with the defendant without his assigned legal counsel present.” Matt said simply.

“If you’ll excuse us, Ms. Reyes, we’d like to resume convincing Mr. Castle that we can actually help him.” You nodded.

“You already did.” Brett cut in from behind Reyes.

“What?” Foggy asked.

“Castle doesn’t want the public defender. Says Y/L/N and her friends are his lawyers now.”

Your group ducked into one of the other rooms to lay out a plan. While Matt and Foggy started bickering - which they had been doing a lot too now that you thought about it - your phone buzzed in your back pocket. You groaned and stepped outside, lifting your phone to your ear.

“Not a good time.” You said firmly.

“Car’s out front.” She replied smoothly. “Hurry up now.”

“El, I can’t.”

“You said you’d help.”

“I’m not some escort service that you can call up when it’s convenient for you.”

“I know that! Look, I need someone pretty that can lie and throw a punch.. Who better than you?”

“Yeah? How many times that line actually work on anyone?” You rolled your eyes and peaked back at your friends, seeing none of them acknowledging the fact you were gone.

“You wanted me to be honest.”

“You really get on my nerves, yknow that?” You groaned. “Hang on.”

You popped your head back into the room without ending the call, only holding the phone against your shoulder. “Hey, so it’s my landlord. A pipe burst in the apartment upstairs from me and they need to get in and check for flooding. I have to deal with this.. Catch me up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” Foggy nodded. “Or call me when it’s all settled and we can go over to Matt’s or something. I’ll buy dinner.”

“You’re the best, Fog. Thank you!” You stepped out and headed to the elevator.

“You owe me.” You said into the phone again.

“Money isn’t-“

“Not money.” You cut in. Glancing back, you looked to make sure no one had followed you out. “You know who he is, don’t you?”

“And you want me to tell you?” She asked carefully.

“I just want you to tell me it’s not who I think it is.”

“Depends on what your theory is.”

You nodded to the man who stepped out and switched places, hitting the G button.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

As you got in, you sat on the seat opposite of her. She gestured to the garment bag beside you and you lifted your brows in question.

“Green is still your color, isn’t it?” She smiled as you unzipped the bag. “Go on. Get changed.”

The dress was a deep olive color. It had a sweetheart neckline with spaghetti straps and off the shoulder sleeves. The bodice was done in a wrap style to cinch your waist while the skirt was to the floor with a deep slit that would sit about mid thigh.

“I’m keeping this.” You smiled as you began to get changed.

“That was the plan, Y/N/N.” She chuckled. “Shoes are on the floor and a bag too.”

“What do you need me all dressed up for?” You questioned as you wiggled into the dress.

“I’ll explain when he gets here.”

“I’m sorry. When who gets here?”

“Speak of the Devil.” She grinned as the door opened.

You had just gotten the zipper up when he stepped in. You instantly blocked out everything in an effort to hide yourself. You were confused why Matt would be there when she said she would leave him out of it. Besides, he had already told her no, hadn’t he?

“Get undressed.” Elektra said simply as she passed him the outfit she had for him.

You had to give it to her. She always came prepared.

“What?” He asked incredulously.

“The invite says 7pm sharp and we’re waiting on you.”

You glared at her at the mention of ‘we’ but she shot you a playful wink instead.

“I have more important-“

“C’mon, Matthew. We’ve been working so hard. I thought we’d all get boozy and let loose for a night. Just like old times.”

“That’s funny.” Matt moved to leave.

“We’re going to a gala to steal a top secret Roxxon ledger that details certain illegal goings-on in Hell’s Kitchen.” She explained.

You made a face to yourself and reached down to change shoes. Matt’s head cocked towards you when your fingers nudged the buckles but he said nothing. You wondered if he was trying to piece together who you were given that you were as calm and flat as ever and you were intently saying nothing. In any case, he decided to move on and get changed.

“Our way in is Stan Gibson.” She gave you a pointed look.

Someone pretty that can lie and throw a punch.

It made sense now. You thought if there was a similar line she told Matt or if she just showed up and he came running.

“Armed?” Matt asked and it made your brows furrow. An innately specific question that made your suspicions harder to ignore.

“Doubt it.” She shrugged. “Works for Roxxon and according to my intel, every employee carries a keycard that grants them access to their super secret floor in the Yakatomi building.”

“Why Stan?” You mouthed and she smiled slightly, likely amused by your efforts to avoid saying anything in front of Matt.

“What sets our friend Stan apart is that he’s just an accountant. Zero fighting chops.”

You began switching out the items in your bag for the one Elektra brought as Matt spoke. His voice made your eyes glance up and you realized the scars on his torso and thought back to Daredevil’s fight with Nobu. Those were the exact same placements.

You were finding fewer and fewer doubts to hold on to.

“You’re gonna pickpocket his keycard?” He asked with a scoff.

“No. She is.” She pointed to you and you smiled slightly.

“In the middle of a gala?”

“Mhmm.”

You shook your head and went back to your project. You moved a few things you knew you would need along with your shock discs. You felt a wave of disappointment from Elektra and looking up, you found her looking out the window and Matt still getting dressed. You glanced between them, wondering only for a moment what you had missed, and shrugged before using your phone camera and fixing your hair just before you pulled up.

Elektra stood in the middle with you on one side and Matt on the other. Your trio gained the attention of almost everyone in the room and though it made your nerves ignite, you weren’t completely sure the buzzing in your body was a good thing.

“You two must look nice.” Matt commented.

“How would you know?” Elektra teased and you smiled.

“Turned a lot of heads.” Matt answered. “Raising a lot of heart rates.”

A very Daredevil-esque thing to say.

“I need a drink.” You muttered and waved over the server.

“Wait.” He turned to you and reached for your arm but you pushed a glass into his and Elektra’s hands before taking your own. “Y/N?”

He was definitely shocked and confused, maybe even a bit panicked. Clearly, if he had known it was you, he would’ve been more discreet. He wouldn’t have said half of what he did, but it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was hope you wouldn’t think anything.

But you were too smart for that.

“Mm?” You hummed as you took a sip. “Yeah, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“”Relax, Matthew.” Elektra teased as raised her glass. “Don’t you just love Jazz?”

“What are you doing here?” Matt turned to you.

“Ms. Natchios, delighted to have you here with us this evening.” A man came over with a wide smile.

“You know I never pass up a chance to have my ass kissed, Mr. Hirochi.” Elektra smiled.

“Then unless your fine company has beaten me to the punch, allow me to be the first kisser this evening.”

“There’s our man.” Elektra nodded as the man left. You turned and saw an older man with a white suit at the bar. You had expected something easy but not that easy.

“Give me five minutes. Men like that are easy enough to work.” You said simply and began walking away, though Matt grabbed your arm to stop you. “Let go of me.”

“You’re not going over there alone.” He said lowly before his head turned, listening for something and the familiarity of it all made you want to punch him. “They’ve upped their security.”

“They’re smarter than they know.” Elektra mused. “Y/N, darling, they’ve got eyes on Stan. You’ve got to be careful.”

“You’re not going to stop me, Matt.” You warned and discreetly tugged your arm away. You turned to Elektra. “Ne le laissez pas m'interrompre.” (Don’t let him interrupt me.)

You approached the man with a wide, welcoming smile. He returned the grin and you made sure to keep his emotions on a playful, intrigued side. You made sure to giggle a bit more and strategically touch his arm to make his interest rise higher and higher. You kept him interested in you - and your fake french accent to pair with your innocently broken English - long enough that when you “accidentally” spilt your dark liquor on his shirt, he wasn’t angry.

“Je suis vraiment désolé ! C'est tellement embarrassant !” You said quickly, covering a hand over your mouth. “Please, let me help. My mother, she teach old French remedy to remove stains. S'il vous plaît. It only takes a bit of um… hand work.” You nodded vigorously with wide, apologetic doe eyes. (I’m so sorry! This is so embarassing! … Please.)

“Hand work?” He chuckled and you felt that idea of arousal rising, enough to make your stomach churn. “Sure thing. Come with me.”

He took your hand and guided you to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes to yourself and glanced around to find Elektra already watching you. You shot a quick wink before disappearing around a corner.

You turned on the tap and grabbed a couple paper towels as Stan removed his jacket. You slipped your fingers into your purse for one of your discs and tucked it into your palm. You began blotting the stain and gently untucking his shirt.

His skin was alive with desire, practically glowing with the want for you to touch him. It was nearly enough to make you gag, but you swallowed your disgust and blocked everything radiating off Stan.

He made a small noise when your fingers undid two of the bottom buttons and you forced a giggle. Looking up at him, you pressed the disc against his lower stomach and watched him convulse until he collapsed. The used disc dropped into your hand so you smashed it against the counter and brushed the remains into the sink. Once it washed away, you let yourself feign panic.

“Au secours ! S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un !” You announced as you stepped back and let his body slump to the ground. (Help! Please, somebody!)

When the two guards rushed in, you acted quickly. You grabbed one man from behind the neck and cracked his head against the marble countertop. You kicked out at the other man’s chest before closing the distance. You gripped his tie and tightened it quickly, shoving the knot into his throat. You held it there until he stopped squirming and fell limp atop his partner.

You flicked your hair from your face as you took their earpieces out. You dropped them to the ground and crushed them under your foot before finding the keycard on Stan’s unconscious frame. You hummed in delight and tucked it into your purse. With one last look in the mirror, you smoothed your dress and your hair before exiting the bathroom to meet with Matt and Elektra.

[free-pancakes]

uh another levihan college au inspired from recent adventures. kind of a continuation of this one?

-- in short, boring self-indulgent drabble under the cut, read at your own risk lmao --

The mist left a film of fog on Hange’s glasses—the haziness in the air lingered after the storm, right over the clearing before the shore. However, it didn’t keep her from running through it anyway, excited to show her new friend Levi her favorite spot on campus.

“Hange, it’s 2am. Shouldn’t I walk you back to your apartment? Nanaba might be worried—“

Hange paused, her sneakers squeaking in the wet grass beneath her as she turned. She looked at Levi, and then towards Erwin and Moblit, giving them all a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I just sent her a text! She knows where we are and that we’ll all be back soon!”

Erwin and Moblit nodded and walked ahead, leaving Hange to wait for Levi.

She reached out her hand towards Levi, tilted her head to the side and grinned. He looked at her, ponytail a bit damp in the humidity, a baggy t-shirt printed with the name of some obscure band he never heard of before, glasses fogged but not enough to hide the undying light in her eyes as bright as the moonlight hitting the water just behind her. Hange was quite intriguing to him, to say the least.

So he ran up to catch up to her, but in her excitement, she took off before he could grab her hand—Levi wondered why he felt a little disappointed.

“Hange, be careful!” Levi yelled out as she quickly climbed down the giant rocks on the edge of the grass leading down to the lake water below. His shoes were wet from the rain soaked grass, so he kept a good grip on the rocks beneath him as he stepped down. It was quite dark so he shined his phone light to help them see better, but failed to see a patch of moss, slipping forward after stepping on it.

Hange was quick, and Levi soon found himself completely fallen in her arms—he wasn’t sure if his heart was racing because of that, or because he almost fell into the rocks below. Surely it was because of the latter, he assured himself.

“You okay, Levi?” She asked while helping him down on to the rock she stood on. He nodded, eliciting a smile from her. She plopped down on the further rocks below, dangling her legs over the edge, right next to Erwin laying down on the rock beside her, and Moblit sitting just behind her. Patting the space next to her, Levi followed, taking the invitation to sit.

The water washed up against the rocks below, the easy whooshing of the waves calming the tipsy feelings from their night out at the bars down to a relaxing buzz—smiles plastered on everyone’s face except for Levi, which had unwound to a slightly less menacing scowl.

Eventually the four came to talking—inevitably Erwin pulled out the classic trio of deep questions since it felt like that kind of night—biggest regret, biggest fear, and biggest aspiration—and the rest of them just rolled their eyes and went with it. Between insightful shares and stupid jokes and tangents sprinkled throughout the conversation, Levi caught himself staring at Hange every few minutes—he noticed she was oddly silent at some points throughout the time they sat out there. It had to be a record of some sort—Hange was only ever talking every minute of the the entire month Levi has known her. But he didn’t say anything nor point it out, and simply stole glances at the light of the half moon shining down against her frame. Her eyes focused far into the distance, out into the endless water that stretched for miles.

When the clock hit 3:30am, the group began to make moves to leave, but Hange continued to sit.

“I just wanted to sit for a few more minutes, I’ll see you all later!” And continued to stare out at the water, ripples glimmering in the moonlight.

Erwin, Moblit, and Levi looked at each other, silently agreeing that someone stay with Hange and walk back home with her. So the two left, and Levi quietly walked back towards Hange, standing a few feet behind her, his arms crossed. He wanted to ask Hange what had been on her mind every time he caught her spaced out from the conversation, but luckily, he didn’t have to.

Pointing a finger out towards the horizon, Hange said, “Did you notice how you can’t see where the night sky and the water touch?” Levi looked out, staring into the dark abyss that lay before them.

“Sky and stars blurring into moonlight reflected on moving water—it’s beautiful isn’t it? As though something so dynamic meets something so still, two opposites yet they meet in the middle and it’s almost like they’re one… an endless loop of something really special. And no one would know unless you watched just at the right moment, like here in this spot in the middle of the night only—no other time of day would you see this, yknow?

Levi watched as Hange spoke, fixated on her smile as she explained.

Was she even making sense? He wasn’t sure—it was late and maybe his head wasn’t wrapping around it properly.

But, he was sure of at least one thing in her little monologue—Hange was dynamic, loud, gentle yet fierce, with an ability to reflect light and somehow made it even more beautiful—just like the water below. And maybe he was like the night sky… still and quiet, colors gentle and focused. And maybe… they were meeting in the middle, at just the right time in their lives.

He wanted to tell Hange, but he knew the words would never come out of his mouth right, so he continued to sit on his thoughts.

After sharing a few more moments listening to the waves crash softly below, Hange stood up and pulled Levi into a tight embrace.

“Thanks for meeting me in the middle, Levi,” she whispered, and began to climb the rocks, beckoning him to come up with her.

Levi followed, baffled at her words, a rush of heat filling his cheeks—it was almost like Hange read his mind.

[hunni-pen]

Okay how does this sound, multi-chapter Eren/Y/N fic, eventual smut, comedy of sorts, just fun lighthearted good times, the chance I flake out halfway through, delete it, and take 3 months write a oneshot instead, and a shakey plot?

Idk I just wanna write something a little self-indulgent, and I don’t want it to feel like a task😭😭 But my self-indulgent works are always my best😫

I’ll write up a little sneak peek for you guys, and we could see how it goes from there. Give me your thoughts on it okay😳😳

SNEAK PEEK

not spell checked

—

(Y/N) hated doing things on their own. Simple things like riding the bus, going to the store, or even walking around university, were terrifyingly daunting tasks.

Which would make one think she had a fruitful social life, full of friends, parties and relationships. But this was not the truth either. In fact, what made going out so scary was the chance that they’d have to interact with people. The store clerk, bus driver, classmates in the hallways who she doesn’t remember the name of, or which class they’re even from!

One thing they did enjoy doing alone , is being at home. At home in her apartment with her music on. It’s so quiet in there they can leave their phone in the living room and still hear her music from her room. Where they can dance through the hallways without worrying someone might see.

After a long shift at work she likes to leave her shoes in the living room, and she drops her bag on the floor next to them. Stripping as they make their way to the bathroom. Nothing feels better than taking off that ugly blue vest and stupid black shirt. Those itchy slacks, and unsupportive nonslip shoes. Freeing herself of all the restricting clothing felt good. It was her home afterall.

She got to eat whatever she wanted, when she wanted. She cleaned when she wanted, and didn’t have to worry about everyone’s mess. Kept the guest bedroom closed, never entered.

Putting the occasional late night/early morning paranoia thoughts of what’s in that corner? Or QUCIK! Check the closet! Living alone wasn’t so bad.

Or that was until the landlord hiked up rent last minute, and the thought crossed their mind. Should I get a roommate? She dismissed it immediately, she could start saving, spending a little smarter... less.

Who wants a stranger in their home anyways? Shed’d have to change their whole lifestyle to accommodate to living with some other chick! (No offense to said hypothetical girl.) It’s not that they couldn’t adapt to situations for the good of themself and others perhaps, but what if they(the stranger) were insane huh?

—

Eren Jeager was not a girl. If (Y/N) wasn’t two seconds from actually pissing her pants, she would’ve laughed. This is what they get for getting ahead of themself.

The idea of having only $60 at the end of each month was not pleasant, so of course she’d hopped on the first opportunity presented by Zeke. In the picture he showed her Eren looked like a girl.

This was not that girl! That’s girl was small and cute and blonde, and she had pretty blue eyes. And this... man was not small, nor cute. Shit switch that dingy flannel he had on to a leather jacket and (Y/N) would’ve assumed he was a biker.

“Are you okay?” Eren shuffled on his feet awkwardly. “You look like you’re about to puke.”

“Huh? Uh, sorry. I just wasn’t you to look like a dude.” (Y/N) wanted to physically cringe. Why did they say that?

Erens eyebrows raised, he laughed, “did Zeke not tell you I was a guy?”

“What? No, I got kind of ahead of myself. I said I’d take you no matter what.”

Which was a good idea at the time considering the fact that “no matter what” only meant, female, safe, clean, and willing to kill spiders and cockroaches.

His face seemed to brighten more and he reminded (Y/N) of a labradoodle. “No matter what? Is okay that I have a dog then? I totally forgot to ask, but I couldn’t just leave him with my parent’s yknow.”

“Dog?”

—

Roommates to friends to lovers type shit

Vibes like these

[glacecakes]

Wild Hunt

Eugene isn't exactly well liked by his men, but when they want to induct him into their ranks, he's not going to complain! All he has to do is hunt down a beast that they prepared for this event specifically-

It's Varian. Eugene is accidentally hunting down Varian. Now the two have to survive the night together, while one of them is injured, against a squadron of Corona's best men.

Uh oh.

IM BACK! Kinda. Finals are due Tuesday and I wrote this instead of doing them but WHATEVER WHO CARES

This was mostly written on the Varian Hivemind server, with some lovely inputs from the folks on there, and I edited it and finished it before throwing it up here. So uh. Yea. Team Awesome my beloved

Life and Times and VVO will also be updated soon!!! I hope to have at least one if not both chapters done by the end of the month 

ANYWAY HERES 8K OF TEAM AWESOME ANGST

Being Captain of the Guards sure had its perks.

For one, he got to attend meetings with Rapunzel, finally. You'd think being the princess's future husband (probably) and Prince of the Dark Kingdom got him some recognition, but noblemen are jerks and elitists, so what can you do. Granted, the meetings were boring as all hell, but still, it felt like he was actually being respected and taken seriously. Something Rapunzel had been pushing for since the start. Personally, he wasn't all that sure he deserved it, but if she was happy, so was he.

Another was that the guards no longer gave him shit. That's not to say they did before... well, they did. Stan and Pete didn't, but every other guard called him Flynn Rider at least once or twice before begrudgingly accepting him as their teacher and now commander. He no longer had to worry about someone breathing down his back, waiting for him to slip up or commit a crime, eager to throw him back in prison.

Speaking of which...

He turned the corner to see a few guards, couldn't remember their names off the top of his head, forming a small circle around a corner. Their predatory grins barred down on whatever their target was, whichever poor soul had angered them. One of them had his hands on someone much shorter, so short he couldn't make them out beyond the red coats and gleaming gold... which could only mean it was one person.

"Don't get comfy, brat," the one hissed, pushing Varian up against the wall with an audible crack as a skull hit stone, no doubt hoisted up by a shirt collar. "One of these days the princess is gonna get sick of you, and when she does, we'll toss you back into your old cell... and we'll restart our favorite game. Ain't that a swell idea?" Varian hissed, a soft thunk of his boots scrambling for purchase against the wall.

"Hey!" Eugene snapped, having heard more than enough. "Put him down now ." His words were like fire, causing the other two to jump back and reveal the battered and bruised alchemist. His lip was split, a large scuff of dirt on his white shirt.

One of the guards snapped his head around, whacking the leader's shoulder to get his attention. The guard frowned. "Oh yea? Or what?"

Before his new position, he would've leapt into the fray, hackles raised, punching the lights out of these jerks, but now, he had a much better stance. "Or you're fired." He crossed his arms, the perfect picture of a guy in charge who knew how to keep his men in line.

Someone who was clearly not him.

The guard hummed. "You don't have the nerve." To emphasize his point, he shook Varian a little harder, the kid's toes barely scraping the floor and his hands gripping the soldier's wrists. Leather gloves creaked with how tight the pressure was.

But Eugene's glare didn't waver, hand itching for the sword at his hip, his anger radiating in waves. It was enough to get the other two to back off.

"Cmon, Aaron," one whispered. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, it's not." Eugene agreed. "Put him down now, and I'll lighten your sentence to a week in the stables instead of a month."

Aaron's face turned sheet white, then bright red. With a huff, he dropped Varian to the ground, readjusting his gloves while Varian cried out on the floor.

"You got lucky this time, brat," he hissed.

Oh, he knew that type of speech. The Baron used it all the time. Anyone who got told that never lasted to the next month. "And all other times," he said. "Because if I see you go anywhere near him I'm taking you to the princess."

Aaron rolled his eyes, clearly uncaring, and stormed off with a huff, his buddies trailing after. No doubt they didn't like a criminal ordering them around. Or, ex-criminal. He'd have to keep an eye on them.

A sniffle broke Eugene's musings, the fog of satisfaction and annoyance quickly replaced by concern for his younger friend. Varian sat up, wincing as he did so. He rubbed his neck, feeling for any injuries and finding none except for his ruined collar. "Aw man," he mumbled.

Dad had fixed his collar for him that day, a proud smile on his face. "You need to look sharp for your first day on the job," he'd said, ruffling Varian's hair. They'd grown so much closer in the past few months, the man always seeing his son off. Today was the first day back after his kidnapping, after all; he'd spent a month recovering from a broken rib.

"It's not my first day, I've been working there for weeks," Varian had grumbled, but let him do it with a cheeky grin.

"First day of the week," Quirin rectified, placing a kiss to his baby's forehead.

A forehead now covered in dust and a bruise.

"Hey kid," Eugene offered a hand that Varian gladly took, stumbling a little as he was helped upright. "You ok? Nothing knocked outta place?"

"Just my pride," Varian joked, smile quickly fading. "I'm ok though, really. I'm used to it." He shrugged, hugging himself for comfort. Maybe he could pretend dad was here, hugging him... he always had the best hugs. Even when Varian was little, before they drifted apart. Back when he was just the weird magic kid. Back when his biggest worries were some older kids picking on him... Dad would always scoop him up into a big hug with flowery words and a book of Flynn Rider.

A warm hand wrapped around him, pulling him into a red chest. Eugene took his other hand to ruffle Varian's hair, earning a squawk of complaint.

"Just because you're used to it doesn't mean it's ok, you know that, right?" Silence followed. Gosh, this kid... say what you want about being an orphan, at least everyone around you was on the same boat. No place for bullies, nothing to bully about, when everyone was doing just as badly. "If they ever give you more trouble, you come to me, yeah?"

"Huh?" Confused blue eyes met warm brown.

Eugene smirked. "You say the words and I boot them out of the castle, goggles. Team Awesome looks out for each other."

"Oh," Varian mumbled, dazed. He'd never had a protector, never had anyone looking out for him. Cold sneers and flowery words, manipulation and secrets and ulterior motives, sure. His chest fluttered, a laugh escaping.

But then... the anxiety returned full force, maybe even stronger.

If those guys got fired because of him, good god, he could only imagine the fallout. Well, that's not true. He absolutely could. One time in prison a guard got fired for beating a cellmate within an inch of his life, and though the guy lived, the second he was out of prison he got jumped, or so the story goes. In all honesty it was probably an embellished truth, stretched out to frighten prisoners into silence, but god damn if it didn't work. No one ever complained about their beatings. A peep was all that was needed to spend a night in the infirmary for even worse injuries.

"No, no, it's fine," Varian flicked his wrist. The dial on his hand spun with each flick, the ticking grating. "Besides, we have work to do!"

"Oh, yea!" Eugene gasped. Right! The whole reason he came out to this part of the castle was to look for Varian specifically, after all.

"So, right, maintenance stuff." Varian waved his hand, motioning for Eugene to follow. "Here's what I had in mind..."

-

It was a week later, late at night, when Aaron approached him. The moon lay low in the sky, just bright enough to allow for vision without torchlight, but not bright enough that anything beyond shapes were clear. True to his word, the guard had been stationed on stable duty for the past several days, coming back to the barracks covered in dirt and angry every time.

So maybe Eugene had whispered to Max about him. Big deal.

Anyway, the captain was knee-deep in paperwork when Aaron knocked on his office door. "Sir," he said. "Finished up for the day, and I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Eugene put his quill down hesitantly. Aaron was his first big show of power, the first punishment he'd dished. Everything else had been a variation of "keep doing what you're doing" as he settled into his new role. Who knew being in a position of power was so stressful?

(Everyone. Literally everyone.)

"I wanted to apologize for testing you, sir." The man shifted, eyes never meeting. His face was unreadable. "I wasn't sure you were going to be as..... sharp, as our previous captain. And I'm sorry for that."

"....Ok," Eugene said. "Thanks? I think?"

"So, I uh... wanted to do something for you." The man continues. "Me and a few others. It's sorta a ritual for guards. We didn’t do it before cuz of, yknow, Cassandra and stuff. And you're one of us now, so...?" He raised an eyebrow, a quiet invitation.

Oh boy.

Knowing these guys, it was probably something really stupid. Most of the guards were pretty nice, maybe a bit airheaded, but a lot of meatheads mostly. Big fans of machismo and showing their strength, boosting their ego, stuff like that. It's why none of them were fans of being run by a criminal. And no doubt Eugene would have to clean up their mess anyway, so he sighed deeply and rose from his seat. "Alright, what did you do now?"

Aaron placed a hand to his chest. "Why, sir, we did this out of the goodness of our heart! We're just welcoming you to the team!" He laughed a bit at that last part. He pointed out the door, leading his superior down the suspiciously empty barracks, and out into the courtyard.

About a dozen or so guards were outside, waiting. One of them was holding a horse's reins, and a crossbow.

"He's in!" Aaron called, and the guards all broke into cheers and raucous laughter.

"Yea, nice to see you guys too, uh. What am I... in?" Eugene asked, shifting awkwardly.

Aaron's smile widened. "It's just a fun little game, sir."

"The game is simple, really," Aaron slung an arm around Eugene's shoulder, pulling him close, not unlike how Lance does. But unlike his larger friend, this man is wiry, more of a weaselly kind of build, with stick thin arms that hide his muscle. "See, when someone new joins the guard, we test their skill by having them hunt down a beast in the nearby forest. Once they catch it, we all celebrate together! And welcome him into the ranks!" The guards all cheered, no doubt thrilled at the prospect.

"....right...." Eugene smiled uncomfortably, cheeks pulling and stretching, a puppet controlling the strings attached to his face. His stomach swirled, bouncing all over as he was passed around.

"But see, you're not just any guard, you're the Captain," Aaron's smile took an equally unpleasant demeanour. "So we figured we'd give you some extra... challenge." Outside of their little circle, no sounds could be heard. Not a peep from a cricket, or a cry from a bird, just dead silence in the surrounding glen. Just the crackle of torches, and the rustling of men.

"The beast for this occasion is small, smart, and fast. The goal is to catch it before it reaches the wall at Old Corona. All you gotta do is," he makes a noise with his mouth to emulate the crossbow. "Hit the target, and the rest of us will finish the job."

"Finish?" Eugene echoed.

The guards around him smiled with all of their teeth. "Well yea, we're not just gonna waste a perfectly good beast, are we?"

Eugene narrowed his eyes. If Rapunzel heard about this, no doubt she'd flip. "How will I know what I'm looking for? And why should I even approve of this?"

"Relax, sir," Aaron shook him, patting his chest with a heavy fist. "We're not just killing an innocent creature. It's always something that's been marked for slaughter, or is causing problems. And trust me," his voice deepened. "You'll know."

No horse was as good as Max, but that was probably for the best, what with his gut screaming about how this all felt so goddamn sketchy. "This isn't some trap where it turns out I'm the one being hunted, right? Cuz I don't want to shoot any of you with this," he joked, brandishing the crossbow.

"No, sir, not at all! In fact we'll be supporting you! No one makes the first shot until you do." He promised, patting the horse's flank. "Rest assured, no tricks here. Just a beast already marked for capture. Or recapture, in this case. We picked this one special for you."

"That sounds like it's supposed to be flattering but it really isn't."

Aaron shrugged. "Not my problem. Good luck!" With a smack to the horse, she cried out, spurring Eugene forward.

They rode through the Capital, out into Corona proper, lush with trees. At this time of night, no one would be about, not even thieves, laden in their straw beds and cots. The only things out right now are animals, or a beast, in this case. How is he supposed to know what he's looking for? What, is it going to be some giant thing with red eyes? No, Aaron said it was small, how the hell is he going to...

Then he hears it.

It's faint, almost like a windchime, but sure enough, the clanking of chains, and a small whimper. Somewhere through the trees there's a rustling, something moving. He can't make it out, the guards didn't give him a torch, but a blob of something rushes forward, the only thing he can make out the distinctive shine of metal, a chain reflecting in the moonlight.

Ah.

Eugene smirked, the rush of adrenaline from a chase beginning to pump through his veins. It'd been a while since an adventure without any stakes, without any daring challenges or risking death. The last time must've been... gosh, probably the Herz de Sonne misadventure? And even then he and Lance had just goofed off for the majority of it. Maybe the Spire? That one was much riskier but he and Rapunzel had been so outrageously drunk during that whole endeavor that it felt more like a fun jaunt.

He shook himself out of his reverie. Focus, Eugene! Fun or no, you're proving yourself to the guards! Show them that you're a worthy Captain beyond just barking orders and supporting the princess!

He spurred the horse forward, hooves thundering against the undergrowth and disturbing the leaves below. The beast let out a shriek, shrill and shaking, rushing forward. It weaved between trees, trying to throw Eugene off. Man, Aaron wasn't kidding about how fast it was. Even on horseback he couldn't keep up very well. The chains wrapped around the beast's legs screamed in complaint, clanking and clattering with each huff of its breath.

Eugene lowered the crossbow, sticking his tongue out. Steady... steady.... he fired.

The bolt whizzed through the air, lodging into a tree just a few feet away from its target. The beast flinched but didn't slow, scampering through the undergrowth, leaping over a fallen tree towards the river.

"Hyah!" He yelled, leading his horse over the log and splashing down into frigid waters. Water rushed past his horse's hooves, dulling the sound of chains, and when he looked around, the beast was gone.

Drat.

Eugene grumbled, reloading the crossbow before urging his horse onward. If this beast got away he'd never hear the end of it! They'd be all "Yes sir, Captain! We'll catch that criminal! As soon as you catch that beast!" And then they'd laugh and he'd moan and he'd have to go catch the criminal himself which is honestly not too far off from how it is already-

Anyway.

It took a few minutes to find it again, the beast trying to muffle it's movements by shuffling, but the metal song was too alluring to ignore. There was no time to waste. With the horse at a fast trot, quieter and steadier, he fired the bolt, this time getting much closer, barely whizzing past the silhouette and lodging into a tree trunk with a chunk of hair.

The creature cried out again, beginning to run and renew this dance of cat and mouse, but Eugene wouldn't have it. Dexterous fingers clasped a new bolt and quickly reloaded, giving barely a few seconds for the creature to try and run before firing again.

He didn't miss.

It was almost silent, the bolt's descent. Its tip gleamed in the moonlight alongside the chains keeping his prey in place, the one thing that slowed it and gave Eugene the upper hand. Whatever this beast was was quick, too quick, and if he lost it again, no doubt he'd never find it again. So when he aimed, he aimed down, and sure enough, the bolt embedded itself into the beast's calf, sending into stumbling.

It shrieked, screamed and sobbed in agony, noises bordering on almost human-like as it thrashed on the floor. The arrow stuck straight up, bright color on the end almost a beacon for the beast's location. Poor thing. He really should've just aimed for the head and put it out of its mercy, but this was the only way to ensure a clean shot.

Eugene slid off his horse, crouching low to the ground as he readied the final blow. But as he got nearer, as the moon hung lower in the sky, providing light through the filtering trees. He hesitated.

The beast was crawling, still trying to run, front legs pawing at the forest floor and clenching the leaves beneath with hands.

Hands...?

Eugene's stomach sank, lower and lower with each passing step, heart climbing higher and higher in his throat, the closer he got, the more ill he felt.

He saw the chains first. No, not chains like that on a cattle’s neck. Prison shackles, the kind wrapped around a prisoner's legs. And they were wrapped around legs, keeping strides from being too large.

And their torso.... clothed torso..... The beast heaved, each breath causing it to rise and fall with rapid panic.

The Captain's hands brushed against the tree with his other bolt embedded in it, eyes trailing onto it, and he froze.

Blue hair, stabbed by the bolt.

"No," he breathed. "No no no no no..." His boots picked up the pace, speed walking over to his catch, to his victim. Please, for the love of god, let him be wrong. Let this be a cruel prank, just a bear or deer dressed up to fool him... don't let it be...!

The creature heard him approach and sobbed, flipping itself over on shaking hands to get a better look at its assailant.

There, lightened by the moonlight, chest heaving, tears streaming down his face and blood oozing from his leg, was Varian.

"Varian....?" Eugene whispered, tears of his own budding when his friend whimpered, scooting back and away. With each step forward Varian scrambled back until his back hit a tree, at which point he curled into a ball. Like a frightened animal. Like a cornered beast.

Oh god... this whole time, he thought it was just one of the farm animals marked for slaughter, or a meddlesome woodland critter... he thought it was an animal destined for someone's table, so why not the guards'? Why on Earth did he agree to this? Was he so desperate for approval from his peers that he would simply shrug off the ringing alarm bells, put aside his gut instinct, and dive in blindly?

Yes, his mind whispered. You would, and you did.

"Hey, buddy," He leaned down, inching closer. "Varian, goggles, it's me. It's Team Awesome." His hand shook as he reached forward, but Varian flinched violently, causing his leg to spasm. The boy hiccuped, a hand clamping over his mouth to stifle his sobs. A small mercy came from the shadows of the night, with it too dark for details, Varian wouldn't see the blood rapidly soaking his pants.

The crossbow glinted, a sharp refraction bouncing off frightened blue eyes and causing him to wince. Eugene tossed the weapon away like it burned him.

"It's me, it's Eugene," he reassured, scooting closer bit by bit. "I'm here to help. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You did," Varian gasped, whole form shaking. "You did."

And that really was the crux of it, wasn't it? At the center of Eugene's self loathing was the spiral of guilt that you shot him, you shot the kid. He trusted you, and you shot him.

"I know," he rasped, trying to keep his voice level. "I did. I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." Varian sobbed, unfurling slightly if only to reach out for comfort. Even if this was the man who hurt him, who hunted him on horse and acted as the boogeyman straight out of nightmares, he was also Eugene, his friend, the one who stood up for him against Cass and Aaron, held his hand and promised he'd be there if Varian ever needed it. And god did he need him now.

Shaking, gloved hands connected in the middle, Eugene's grip gentle but grounding, a careful smile on his face. "That's it, bud. You're safe."

“Aw, ain’t that cute?”

Faster than a bullet, the smaller hand retracted, Varian’s eyes wide and horror-struck. In his attempt to comfort the boy, Eugene had let his guard down. He’d forgotten the final rule of the game.

No one moves until you make the first shot.

They were surrounded.

Aaron swaggered up to the duo with a grin, torch in hand. It flickered and sputtered, illuminating his blinding white grin amidst the darkness. The other guards formed a circle around them. Every other man carried a torch, while the rest had a weapon or tool or rope.

“The Captain has captured the beast! And in remarkable time, too.” Aaron simpered, waltzing up and gripping Varian’s cheeks in his hand. The boy snarled, teeth grit as he stared up at his bully.

From behind them came Aaron’s two buddies, the guards from before, each one wrapping an arm around Eugene’s shoulder, hauling him up and away.

For a moment, Eugene's insides were pure ice, frozen in time, unable to react despite the screaming in his mind as the puzzle pieces failed to connect. They jumbled and sloshed in his mind, the picture only half complete and the rest of the pieces strewn atop, obscuring the image from his view.

"Eugene...?" Varian whispered, thawing him.

"What have you done!?" He bellowed, anger hardening his voice. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" He strained against the guards.

"Just as we told you, sir!" Aaron mocked, forcing Varian to meet the Captain's gaze. "We captured a beast for you to hunt down! And now that you have," The grin was razor sharp, shark's fangs practically drenched in blood. "We'll dispose of it properly."

A guard from the circle threw a rope, the ends tied into a loop. Like a ring toss, the aim was true, ensnaring Varian's wrist and tightening when he pulled. Another guard followed suit, yanking the boy back and forth till his arms were spread eagle and unable to move.

Varian turned a stark white, paler than the moon that neared the horizon. He cried out, straining to try and escape, but another spasm from his leg paralyzed him. “N-no, please not again…!” He sobbed. “Let me go-!”

"Again!? Varian, what do you mean? VARIAN!" Eugene yelled. "VARIAN!"

The boy screwed his eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

"LET HIM GO!" Eugene strained against the guards, lamenting once again, his own stupidity. He should've brought Max, or an actual weapon, like his sword, or something! He'd gone in totally blind, expecting that the guards were decent people and that this wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Honestly, he should've known better! After everything he's seen and done, never leave the house without a concealed weapon! You were almost executed by half these assholes!

When he gets back, he's firing everyone except Stan and Pete.

A third rope flashed through the air, this time with a loop larger than the others. It latched itself onto Varian's neck, wrapping tight and close. His eyes snapped open in pure terror, mouth opening in shock. But before the boy could protest or scream, the rope was pulled taut, and his face turned an awful shade of purple. He coughed, thrashing in place with tears of fear and hypoxia trailing his cheeks.

"Aw, the beast is scared! Doesn't he know how all animals are slaughtered?" Aaron cooed, faux sympathy marring his features. "You know, don't you? You were raised on a farm, after all." His question went unanswered, Varian too busy rasping for breath to respond.

The man with the rope pulled harder, forcing Varian's face down into the dirt where his muffled cries barely caused the leaves beneath to move. A steel boot stomped onto his head, and the cries went still.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" Eugene bellowed, the protective instincts in his mind going haywire, overheating and exploding with pure rage and an intense need to save him, free him. He let this happen, if he had been smarter, stronger, if he hadn't shot him, hadn't let his guard down, hadn't shrugged and taken the guards' words at face value… “Oh relax, it'll be painless!” Aaron hummed, producing a knife from his belt. “The beast didn’t answer the question, but, I’m sure you can figure out how animals are killed after falling unconscious.” He jokingly slashed the dagger in the air above his throat, and Eugene saw red.

"YOU ARE SO FIRED!" He screeched at Aaron. "WHEN RAPUNZEL FINDS OUT-"

"Oh?" Aaron mocked, turning around and placing a hand to his chest daintily. "When the princess finds out? You're making her do all the heavy lifting?" He sauntered up to Eugene, hips swaying with each step till they were nose to nose. "This is your job, sir. You are in charge of keeping us in line, keeping the prisoners in their place."

"Varian is NOT a prisoner," Eugene hissed, meeting his gaze with pure fury. "He is a friend, my friend, my brother."

"Perhaps to Eugene Fitzherbert, but not a Captain of the Guard." Aaron shrugged.

Eugene lowered his head. For a brief moment, Aaron grinned victoriously. Now he's getting it.

"Too bad for you, I'm both."

Aaron's face fell, the cheerful facade falling into a brutal glower. "What does that mea-"

He was cut off when Eugene slammed his face into Aaron's, hitting the bastard's nose with a CRUNCH. He staggered back, and his buddies loosened their grip on Eugene to see if he's ok. It's all the advantage Eugene needed, quickly pushing them both off him and charging Aaron. His shoulder bowled into Aaron, sending him sprawling, and Eugene only stopped to grab the dagger he dropped before sprinting for Varian's crumpled form.

"Oh sun, please be ok, come on kid," Eugene chanted, slashing the rope around his neck. It leaves a brutal ring of red around his neck, as do the ones around his wrist when they're dispatched. There was no time to remove the chains, what with the remaining guards quickly regaining their senses and gearing up for a fight.

He lifted Varian up into his arms as if he were made of glass. Dark black hair lolled against the Captain's chest as he stood to his full height, glaring down at his employees, the hazers, the conspirators.

There was no hope of taking them all on, that much was clear. Charging into battle with hands full and armed only with a knife was stupid. He'd have to outrun them, play the game, and make it to Old Corona where Quirin could protect his son and he could get actual backup from loyal men.

Perhaps this was the true game, the true test of his worthiness.

Aaron snarled, staggering up while clutching his nose. "GET HIM!"

Eugene crouched, letting the first guard try and charge him before jumping out of the way at the last second. This he was used to, dodging men who wanted nothing more than to hurt and destroy what he held dear, making a run for it to the relative safety of the familiar. He fell into the old routine without too much difficulty, leaping over heads and ducking under blows. It helped that Varian barely weighed more than a few grapes, still a stick from his year in prison. He and the others had been hard at work trying to help him gain at the very least some muscle, though Varian was a big fan of skipping meals for science.

According to Quirin he's had that habit for a while, and right now it was a minor blessing.

Huh, he thought to himself as he dodged a crossbow bolt, taking off into the trees. Captain of the Guard isn't all that off from my usual life, just with some added benefits. Another arrow nearly took off his ear. Yea, same old stuff.

His feet pounded against the forest floor, dredging up leaves and dirt alike as he ran. There was no time to cover his tracks or be discreet, there was a whole battalion after him, so it wouldn't do much good anyway. But as his steps quickened, as Varian bounced up and down in his arms, the chains still rattling, the boy stirred, groaning in pain with each motion.

"Gene...?" He mumbled, muffled through the man’s coat.

"Hey kid," Eugene grinned down, not slowing for a second. "Glad to see you're ok. How's your throat?"

"On fire..." a weak hand pawed at his throat, rubbing the soreness away.

"Sorry about that, you're gonna be just fine, ok? It's all gonna be ok."

Varian hummed, eyes glossy and not fully there. His head fell back onto Eugene's chest, a soft smile full of love that he didn't deserve. "K. I trust you."

Varian fell back into an uneasy sleep after that, his breaths wheezing against Eugene, lips stained blue and face clammy. Anytime exhaustion tried to creep into his bones, tried to sneak into his soul and drain him to surrender, he looked down at Varian and his spirit would renew.

At some point, they were hiding behind a tree, keeping to the intense darkness. A few guards could be heard not too far off, their annoyed mutterings like an alarm bell, a siren's song of false security. Just as they passed, Varian coughed, clutching at the fabric for comfort. It was an ugly sound, weak and ragged, as if there was something coming up.

When he looked down, those blue lips were now stained red.

He picked up the pace after that.

But even he couldn't run forever, no matter how light Varian was or how determined he was. Inevitably he had to stop for water, hiding Varian behind a fallen tree and drinking from a stream whose sounds hid them from view.

He just finished his own drink when Varian stirred, and the Captain was quick to help Varian get some water of his own.

They sat by the stream for a bit, catching their breaths, Eugene from exertion, and Varian from strangulation.

It was here that Varian recounted his side of the story, tears dripping and mixing with the stream below him. "I was so scared..." he whispered, voice hoarse.

"I bet," Eugene soothed, running a thumb over Varian's palm. "What happened?"

"....I got jumped," his eyes turned downcast, shame coloring his features. "T-they grabbed me when I was gonna head home. Said that they wanted to make it up to me, to... to give me "a job befitting my talents"...." He sighed. "You can probably guess what that was, huh."

Eugene's ears burned. A flame simmered in his gut, nausea falling away as his free hand clenched at the leaves below him. "Yea. I can." He bit out.

For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. What could they say? The situation was insane, it was cruel, it was... it was…

Varian hacked, more blood than before coming up and splattering on the shackles that remained.

"Oh, let me get those," Eugene hissed. "I'm sorry, shit," He fumbled for his pockets, procuring a lock pick and making quick work of the shackles. "We gotta move. We can't let them find us." His hands hovered over the bolt, unsure. "Can I... I mean, you can't run with..."

Varian turned a shade of green, barely visible. “It’s stopping the blood from coming out.”

"Yea, good point, sorry." He coughed awkwardly, the stream bubbling and gurgling a simple melody.

"Why do... why do you keep apologizing?" Varian asked, not meeting Eugene's eye for a second.

"Wh- seriously?" He let out a bark of laughter, fading when Varian's face didn't change. "Kid, it's my fault you're in this mess! Sun above, I shot you. I said I'd keep you safe and I shot you." Anger swelled in his words, but Varian didn't flinch. He knew it wasn't directed at him. "Some Captain I am, I'm being chased by my own guys."

Varian bit his lip. "Did..." he hesitated to ask. If the answer wasn't what he was hoping for, he'd never recover. "Did you know it was me?"

"No!" Eugene's eyes widened. "No, I never would've agreed if I knew it was a person, let alone you!" He ran a hand through frazzled hair.

"So..." Varian hummed. "You shot me on accident, and then saved me. Again. Even when your men tried to convince you otherwise." Each sentence was slow, filled with Varian needed to take in a breath, but he met his friend's eyes this time. "I think that's a pretty good Captain."

Eugene blinked, then smiled. "Thanks, kid."

Dark voices shouted across the clearing, words incomprehensible. Varian jolted, hands flying up before doubling over hacking. Each cough shook his body so hard you’d think the boy was trembling with fright.

“Woah, easy,” Eugene’s hand rubbed over his back. “Deep breaths. Come on goggles. You got this.”

“You would think,” Varian rasped. “But I do not.”

Finally, with one final hack, his coughs ceased. Each gulp of air felt like heaven, or at least it did for the first few seconds. Then it was replaced by a searing hell, leaving him scrambling again.

God, what is the culprit?

As his breathing quieted, as the burn turned to a small simmer, Varian’s eyes trailed to the forest floor beneath him.

Stained with blood.

Varian’s eyes widened, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks as his entire world focused in on the blood. The dark blues of night left it hard to see, more a black shine than the vicious red, but there was no denying what it was.

“What-oooh,” Eugene hissed, grabbing Varian’s shoulders for support. Shit, this was bad. He made a mental list of symptoms for the inevitable doctor visit: raspy voice, struggling to breathe, coughing up blood... all signs pointed to the noose as the culprit. Whichever guard had tried to strangle Varian was getting fired and arrested.

No, screw it, all of them were.

“Focus on me, hair stripe,” he warned, shaking his brother slightly. “Are you ok to move?” All he got was a weedy moan.  “I’m taking that as a maybe.” With no preamble, he scooped his arms under Varian’s knees and back, pulling him into his arms as he stood in one fluid motion. “I’m gonna try and make a run for it, ok? We’re almost to your dad. I just need you to stay with me.”

Silence, and then a faint nod moving against his coat.

Each step sent vibrations up Eugene’s spine, tingling and thrumming in his veins and pounding in time with his heart. The sun would be rising soon, it had to be, with the dew that is forming at his feet.

At some point Varian readjusted, shifting so that he could see over their shoulders. He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, but at least he could keep an eye out.

And it’s a good thing he did, when he beats wildly at Eugene’s chest in a signal. The captain was about to duck behind a bush, but the forest’s edge is within sight! Maybe if they made a break for it...?

An arrow grazed his side.

The pain looped through his system, joining the adrenaline for a joyride through his mind and it sent him sprawling. Varian rolled out of his arms, collapsing at the forest’s edge.

Eugene groaned, raising his face with the sun to see Aaron’s smug grin glowing in the upcoming dawn.

“Well, look what I caught! A daddy beast and a baby beast!” He said.

Eugene gaped. “Could you be any creepier? Really, gotta go for the weirdest shit to say, don’t you?”

“Eh,” Aaron shrugged, crossbow in hand. He stepped past his boss (Er, ex boss), boots crunching on leaves and leaving nothing but dust in their wake. “I’m a weird guy, I guess.”

“Yea, a real weirdo. Kidnaps a teenager and has the captain hunt him for sport. A nice quirk, ain’t it!” Each word is angrier than before until he is spitting acid.

Aaron doesn’t even argue; he’s too caught up in his victory. Varian shook as he struggled to sit up, arms quivering with effort. Just as he raised his head his eyes met the gleaming tip of an arrow, aimed right between the eyes. “Say goodnight, kid. Don’t worry. I’ll make a fine trophy out of you. Hang your goggles over my mantle.”

“Would you knock it the fuck off!?” Eugene wheezed, scrambling up. His feet gave out near instantly, but he leapt forward, colliding with the guard and driving his aim up. The arrow whizzed overhead, harmlessly lodging into a tree.

“Varian, run!” Eugene yelled, still on top of the other.

“I CAN’T! What part of arrow in my leg don’t you get!?” Varian yelled, immediately followed by coughing.

Eugene went to answer, only for the butt of the crossbow to whack him in the face.

Aaron laughed, loud and manic, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. It was quickly stopped by a punch to his stomach from the furious man above him. If the others found them, it’d be game over. Literally.

Whether or not Eugene would be killed was unclear. While he didn’t always need Rapunzel to save him, her good graces granted him immunity from most local threats. But they’d definitely kill Varian, and that was the bigger concern to him.

Unfazed, Aaron slammed his skull into Eugene’s, sending him tearing back. The guard quickly flipped them, crossbow still in between.

“Face it,” Aaron snarled. “You’ll never be a true captain. You can’t control your men, can’t protect a kid, can’t even protect yourself. You just got the job because you saved the lost princess.”

“In my defense,” Eugene wheezed. “Your previous guard couldn’t do that either.” That only angered him more, digging the crossbow into Eugene’s Adam’s apple.

The two men wrestled briefly, Eugene finally getting a good grip on the crossbow, and kicking Aaron off of him. He scrambled to Varian, fully prepared to scoop him up and begin the dance again, just for a little longer, but Aaron just yelled out in anger, drawing a sword from his belt. As strong as Eugene was, he couldn’t outrun him with Varian in his arms. He would know, he trained his men to match him in speed and strength.

Varian moaned in pain. He had to do something, he couldn’t just sit here! Eugene had spent the whole night running around, working his ass off to keep him safe after the initial mistake, he couldn’t let him down...

But the arrow scraped against his bone, pain sending stars across his vision any time he stood…

The captain’s hands clenched down on wood, eyes calculating. He looked into Varian’s eyes, then down at his leg. Then up again. And down again. He hissed between teeth, kneeled down, and clenched his fist around the arrow. It sent a pulse of pain through Varian’s leg, the boy wincing, but understanding.

“Do it,” he hissed.

And yanked.

The pain was so sharp, so intense, that for a moment Varian was certain he was dead. There was no way anyone could survive with this much pain, he must surely be dead or dying. White hot agony stabbed into his leg, and he bit so hard on his lip he broke skin. It took everything in him not to scream.

Aaron laughed again, shadow blanketing them. Eugene turned to see him looming over them, sword above his head. “Say goodnight, Sir!” he shrieked.

Fwip!

Thunk!

The man’s grin vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer shock at the arrow sticking straight into his throat. Blood trickled down the wound, looking more like an impulse tracheotomy. Suddenly, he pitched forward, face hitting the forest floor with a sickening shick as the arrow went the rest of the way through his throat. There wasn’t even a struggle, no death rattles or cry of pain, just the sounds of a morning dove in the coming dawn.

Eugene’s shoulders slumped, and Varian leaned back into the cool grass.

“You doing alright there, Goggles?” Eugene called.

“My lungs are on fire, I can’t feel my legs and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I could sweat. I’d say I’m in the mood to die, but I literally just spent the whole night trying to prevent that.”

“...fair enough.”

-

The weeks that followed were, for lack of a better term, a total fucking nightmare.

After pulling themselves together, the brothers managed to hobble to Varian’s house in Old Corona, just in time to greet Quirin at the door. Imagine the poor man’s shock when he was headed out to work only to be greeted by his son’s blood and the captain’s exhaustion. Suffice to say, they got a proper tongue lashing the whole cart ride to Corona proper, the father fussing over them both while he rushed them to the infirmary. And then they had to get chewed out by Rapunzel, and Lance, and pretty much everyone else, despite their repeated insistence that it wasn’t their fault this time.

“What did you expect us to do? We were being hunted!” Eugene whined at Rapunzel while a nurse cleaned up a cut.

“Uh, I was being hunted. You were hunting me .” Varian hoarsely piped up from his own bed, leg propped up in a cast. He paused at the frantic stop motion Eugene was making, and the paling faces of his father and princess. “Oh. Was I. Not supposed to say that.”

“You’re not supposed to be talking,” Rapunzel chided lightly, though that was clearly not the problem. The doctor had been pretty quick to explain Varian’s breathing issues were just from the throat trauma, and would heal with time and supervision.

“I didn’t know! In my defense,” Eugene held up his hands as if to shield from Quirin’s murderous face, but if looks could kill he’d be a pile of bones. “I didn’t know.”

“How do you…” Quirin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to remind myself that you saved my son’s life and ignore the part where you endangered it in the first place.”

“Yes, please do,” He said, shifting under the glare.

And then came the paperwork.

Trying to figure out who among the guards was part of the hunt was hard enough, seeing as outside of Aaron and his cronies, no one was going to say a word. All they had to go off of were the men who saw Eugene off, and the ones who initially captured Varian. And since they hadn’t run into anyone else directly, no one could be properly accused and charged. But Eugene wasn’t going to take any chances, and therefore anyone who he saw at least once was fired, and if they wanted to dispute it they could come to him and explain why they were willing to throw his little brother to the wolves.

Suffice to say, no one did. Which left Eugene with only two thirds his original squadron. He spent a good while of his recovery vetting new recruits and creating incentives for others to try out, and while he was able to replenish his ranks, they weren’t nearly the same elite task force they’d started with. And considering the threats they faced on the regular, that was a serious problem.

It was after a long day of training and interviews that Eugene finally stumbled into the castle library, ready to destress with a nice long binge read of Flynn Rider. He grabbed a few books off the shelves as he walked, headed for his favorite couch and the cozy fireplace at its side, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Varian lay spread across the couch, foot propped up on the armrest as he glossed over some scientific text that Eugene had no hope of understanding. His eyes flitted up and down the page, clearly not actually reading and more just staring at the words.

“Hey,” Eugene called, and Varian barely reacted. “Oi, kid, that’s my spot. Scooch it.” “I got here first,” Varian said, not looking up for a second.

“Older brother gets first dibs.”

“Little brother gets his way.”

Oh he was gonna play it like that was he? Eugene smirked, plopping his books down at the floor before collapsing directly on top of Varian, making care to not crush the injured leg. Varian squawked in protest, limbs flailing.

“Get off! You’re heavy!” he yelled, trying to push him off. When that failed, he resorted to whacking at him.

“Never!” Eugene laughed. “Your little punches feel like flowers!”

“I have an iron deficiency!” Varian responded, cheeks red but smiling slightly. The captain finally stopped suffocating him, but didn’t get off, instead wiggling in close so they could share. “Mean,” Varian whined, a pout on his lips, but didn’t complain.

“Oh hush,” Eugene chided, grabbing a book from the floor. “You know you love me.”

Varian simply hummed, buck teeth peeking through a tiny grin. “So, what did you grab for today?”

“Ah, glad you asked!” Eugene held up the cover, which Varian oohed in appreciation. “One of the older ones, came out when I was your age.” He wrapped an arm around Varian, pulling his brother close, the warmth of his side and the fire combining to create a heavenly cocoon. “You want to read, or should I?”

“Your turn,” Varian responded, stifling a yawn.

The book creaked in protest, Eugene gazing down at his little brother with a smile. He leaned his cheek on the boy’s hair, deep voice dripping with fondness as he started to read.

Being Captain was fun, but being a brother was even better.

[hawksky]

Yuta Okkotsu | No One Believes You

A/N: it is so hard to write this man as funny but i have prevailed, his sweetness will not beat me. also I know no one asks for Yuta but here I am trying to force Yuta simping onto myself and all of you. Fluff & Humour

Prompt:  Yuta spills on you ( @megumifushi)/ people think you’re cheating on Yuta.

CW: mentions of sex (nothing explicit), alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating but y/n and Yuta know there is no cheating.

Maybe it was the candlelight. Maybe it was the home cooked meal. Most likely? It was nursing your third glass of wine that had you in a warm daze, unable to move your starry eyes from the dark-haired man sitting adjacent to you. It was far from your first date, you should have been over all the romance, but there was something about being in each other’s presence that made you both feel like nervous teenagers.

Flustered under the intensity of your gaze Yuta forced himself to look away, the flush on his cheeks growing darker with each passing moment. He desperately grasps for the jug of water across the table and it’s then that you both feel the effect of that third glass loosening your limbs. His elbow clipping the bottle of cabernet sauvignon, you watch helpless to react, as the remaining red liquid spills onto your chest.

 A bright red stain now adorned your white sundress, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad, unable to suppress your own giggles looking at the mess. You look up to find Yuta hovering over you nervously with a wet towel starting to blot the stain over your chest.

 You lean back, basking in the attention, entirely unconcerned about the mess (if you can’t get the stain out in the wash it wouldn’t be hard to replace the dress), and returning your gaze to your doting boyfriend. It was hard not to feel loved by him in every action he took, even something as small as rushing to attempt to clean an impossible stain.

 When his eyes met yours, it was like he exited whatever fugue state his was in, realization dawning on him that he was touching your boob. He jumped back in horror, immediately apologizing profusely for crossing boundaries.

 It was true, you and Yuta had yet to be physically intimate, but you were far rejecting his touch, you followed his lead in everything and it seemed at this point he was waiting for you to take the next step.

 You giggle softly at his overreaction “Babe, it’s okay, we’re dating you’re allowed to touch me as much as you want. Wherever you want. However you want.”

 With that permission finally vocalized to him, you had no idea what you had just released. _

You forgot.

You forgot the exact events of last night.

You forgot you agreed to spar with Maki and Nobara today.

 In a rush you haphazardly pulled on a pair of yoga shorts and a crop top, hopping around as you pulled on your shoes, too distracted to feel the pain in your legs.

 You arrived waving your hand eagerly, resting your hands on your knees once you reached the girls trying to catch your breath. When you finally glance up, surprised by the lack of comments on your lateness, you’re met with Maki’s judging glare and Nobara’s jaw hanging. “What? I’m sorry I’m late but I swear I was only 10 minutes delayed we still have plenty of time”

 They exchange glances and a silent conversation before Maki speaks up in an even cold tone.

 “Y/N, did you and Yuta break up or are you cheating on him?”

 You’re taken aback, of all the things you were not expecting that.

 “Wha-? Why are those the only two options? No neither, why would you even think that?”

 “Uh, the rope burns and bruises all over your body would be why we think that. Who the fuck did that to you?” Nobara replied as her eyes scrutinized your body, cataloguing each exposed mark.

 You had to glance down at your own body, trying to process Nobara’s description. Your face became inflamed, you had forgotten, but as you glance at each mark and bruise over your body, you remember. The memories of last night, hazy as they are, come flooding back. As you take full stock of the state of your body, you want to berate yourself for wearing such revealing clothing, although you’re unsure if you have any clothes capable of concealing this amount of damage.

 You scratch your head, cringing and avoiding their eyes “No, no cheating or break up, this is uhm Yuta’s work”

 “Fucking bullshit, Yuta? We’ve known him for years; this is not him.”

 “He really loves you yknow? I can’t believe you of all people would do this, it’s so fucking shitty”

 You finally meet their eyes, bewildered by their statements “I swear on my life, I’m not lying”

 A pause. Another silent conversation between the two women ensues, before they slung their arms over your shoulder with a devious “oh you’re telling us EVERYTHING”

__

 It had to be Gojo. It had to be fucking Gojo who saw you first. He looked frantically between you down on the field, and Yuta who was walking alongside him across campus. For the first time in his life, he felt like his eyes must have been failing them

 Yuta cocked his head, confused by Gojo’s unusual behaviour – well unusual for Gojo standards. Following his stare to see you with Nobara and Maki flanking either of your sides, seeming far too gleeful and unproductive for what was supposed to be a training session.

 Gojo reaffixed his attentions to Yuta, “You’re okay with that?”

Yuta laughed at his former sensei “I know you don’t have experience with relationships, but I don’t feel threatened by a lesbian couple around my girlfriend”

 “You don’t see all the bruises obviously left by another all over y/n?” “Obviously?” “That’s the part you focused on? Yuta-chan, don’t you worry I’ll find you someone else, tonight even I know the perfect place my girls will eat you up” Yuta weighed his options in response, he knew he could clear the air easily, but it wasn’t often a person got to be the one fucking with Gojo instead of the other way around.

 “Ah I really don’t think that’ll be necessary, me and y/n will heal up no problem”

 “Yuta, I don’t say this about many people, but you deserve a true real love, one that would never cheat on you” Gojo’s voice dripping with a rare bout of sincerity. “I know what I deserve you’re right”  

 “…So you’re coming out with me tonight then? We’ll have a real boys night” “No, me and y/n are going to a movie tonight and it’s my turn to pick I can’t cancel or else I forfeit my pick”

 Gojo took a long pause, Yuta’s usual sheepish grin had been replaced with one that looked almost devious. He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something, there was some connection he had not been able to make, this was an unusual feeling for him.

 Gojo gasps suddenly, staring wide eyed at his darling former pupil “You didn’t ­— !” Despite the inevitability, Yuta still blushed heavily at Gojo’s revelation “I would never kiss and tell but… I am absolutely certain I have not been cheated on”

 “Ah ha ha, the pupil becomes the master, huh?” Gojo chides digging his elbow into Yuta’s ribs. “Sensei I assure you I have followed in none of your footsteps” 

Paging (send a msg to be added): @sandyscastle​ @nokkusu​