#(as far as i remember and i remember a lot so not for sure but this is probably true)

[bookyeom]

to care for you — lc

pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”

Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!

Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

He‘s exhausted. 

It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.

He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you. 

He feels like that a lot these days.

He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.

You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.

Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.

“Chan?”

Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.

There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks. 

He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.

“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?

“Why…” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse. 

Why are you here? 

He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”

His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw. 

“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down. 

“Off.”

You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.

“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.

“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“

As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you. 

“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“

Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this? 

You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this. 

Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.

“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to. 

The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.

“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.

“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”

You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself. 

It always hurts.

You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him. 

His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over. 

Huh?

Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t. 

“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin. 

You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together. 

“You… okay?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.

You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.

Your head spins.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was. 

Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.

You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited. 

You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.

Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing. 

He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over. 

How?

When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.

“Hi.”

”You didn’t sleep.”

It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”

It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.

“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.

“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.

Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin. 

“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”

It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.

“I mean, yeah? Why else—“

“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“

Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.

“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.

“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face. 

“I understand.”

“And I… I probably need some time.”

He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.

“Y/N?”

Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.

”Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”

His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.” 

You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you. 

It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.

When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.

“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him. 

“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”

Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”

You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”

Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”

“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”

You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.” 

He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven. 

It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut. 

"Is that my sweater?" 

Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back. 

"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”

You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”

You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”

The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does. 

“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”

All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”

You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”

Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?” 

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it. 

“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

“Wait, what?”

Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.

“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”

You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back. 

“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.  

“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him. 

“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”

You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out. 

Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.

“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”

You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless. 

Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.

Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out. 

TAGLIST: @waldau @minisugakoobies @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @wqnwoos @wheeboo @christinewithluv @lvlystars @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @bewoyewo @kyeomkyeomi @mingyuscoffee @harry-the-pottypus @lightprincess-world @icyminghao @bella-l @darkypooo

[steadybear]

“ 𝐦𝐫. 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭: 𝐰𝗼𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝗼𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐭𝗺! 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝗼𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬?

content warning: 18+ NSFW, 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, trans male character, amab reader, male reader, oral sex (scar receiving), vaginal penetration, gentle vanilla sex, first times, misunderstood feelings, semi-drunk sex/drunk sex, a lot of confused flirting and banter, lots of kisses, lots of reassurance, unsafe sex (keep it in your pocket if you can't wrap up your rocket), this is pure fluffy vanilla sex and a little bit self-indulgent, as mentioned this is amab reader there is specific mentions of cock

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller scar has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"I mean, I understand why you would, with the inn prices being so high, but really?"

His fingers drummed on the market stand in front of him. Eyes wandering, he gave a slight shrug. "It's not as if I have any other options, do I? I can't exactly make a house appear out of thin air." Despite what should've been desolate words, the smirk written all over his face added a playful lilt to his speech.

Your face was tinted a cute pink, but it wasn't because of him. It was a sun-kissed hue tanned into the flesh of your cheek from the humidity. Still, he felt proud of himself when a polite laugh ripped through the heatwaves beating down on the both of you. "Well, still, camping might be fun for some people but you look like you're going to sweat your hide off. Are you sure you don't want some money to stay at a room with some kind of air conditioning or something?"

He looked down at his clothes, "Do I really look that bad? I'll have you know I'm quite comfortable." He did a playful twirl. You took note of the dreamy and far off nature buried in the depths of his pupils.

Another chirp of laughter passing your lips, "Yeah, sure you are. Your forehead is caked in sweat." You turned around, heading to the back of your small shaded booth before plucking a small beige satchel of coins out. You turned around again, just to find his fingers drumming on the table while his eyes darted just about everywhere but your humble shop's offerings. "Take it, tonight's on me."

Just as quickly as you slid it across the table, the bag was pushed back into your retreating palm. "No need, I'm not exactly what anyone would call... delicate."

Your own smile tugged at your lips as you shoved the bag of shells back across the table. There was a devious glint in your eyes as you quipped back to him, "No need to play coy, I'm not after anything." Your fingers brushed up against the back of his hand. "That is, unless you want me to be."

This time, it was his turn to chuckle. He only seemed further motivated by the challenge, smirk opening up his cheeks. The scarred tissue on his face uncomfortably hindered one side of his face, causing a more lopsided grin. Even if it was one caused by pain, the smile was endearing. It was imperfectly beautiful, uneven but genuine.

"I'm not strapped for cash," His eyes flashed a dangerous mischief, "-but I wouldn't be surprised if you were. You seem all too eager to hand off your money to any pretty traveler passing through town."

To this, your lips opened, closed, and then opened again. "I don't remember calling you pretty, but I can't say I disagree with that either." You still insistently held the bag firmly against his palm, gently wrapping his hand around the drawstrings of the bag with your fingers, "That being said, consider it some... local hospitality. Nobody in the village wants anyone to go to sleep cold or hot or uncomfortable. We're all just trying to make a living, even if we don't agree with each other all the time."

His own eyes widened slightly, but he didn't stutter or seem taken aback by the sudden sincerity in your tone. "I don't see why you'd help me, I can see you're barely keeping food on your own table."

You averted your eyes sheepishly, "That may be true, but I don't have trouble keeping a roof over my head." Your former smile transformed into a sort of grimace, "I know I really shouldn't be telling visitors this if we want to keep having any travelers stop in, but..." You took in a deep breath, "There's this Tacet Field that opened up nearby, and I- I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if you--or really anyone--got ambushed because you couldn't afford a room."

You shook your head and urgently pressed the bag into his hands, "So, just for my peace of mind, go ahead and just take this and get yourself a comfy bed to sleep in." You offered him a sincere smile, withdrawing your own hands, "I swear on it, Miss Chunhua makes the best breakfast if you have enough time for it."

He hummed, pretending to consider it for a moment.

Of course, he was already intrigued you knew of a Tacet Field popping up before any of the Midnight Rangers could make the time to come and investigate it themselves. But, he was more concerned with your show of completely selfless kindness. The amount of shells in the bag would be more than enough for a room at the inn, enough for a couple at the very least. If anything, he wondered why you had this amount just casually set aside in a bag.

"As touched as I am by your kindness, I don't need it." He dropped the bag down onto the counter with one hand. The other grabbed at the food he'd bought from you. "I'm more than strong enough to handle a few tacet discords. You don't need to worry your little head off about anyone like me."

You immediately protested, "If it's about the money, it really isn't that-"

You were cut off with another of his sweet laughs. "No, it isn't about the money. As touched as I am that you want me to sleep safely, I'm here to investigate the Tacet Field myself up close." He held a finger to his lips, "Don't tell anyone though, alright?"

Your eyes widened in protest, "What do you mean you're investigating it? That's-" You promptly shut your mouth. "With your confidence, I know you probably have some kind of Tacet Mark, but it's really not safe. Those things- they're-"

He shook his head again, lopsided grin only getting bigger. He held his pinky out, "Would a promise make you feel any better?"

Your frown only deepened, "Look, I know you think your Tacet Mark will keep you safe but I have a Tacet Mark. They're more than dangerous, they're larger and more aggressive than they usually are. They look like they're just about to rip anyone that gets close enough to shreds."

He shrugged, "I've seen worse."

"Somehow, I believe you," You remarked dismally, "But you should trust me on this. My farm is right on the outskirts of town and I've gotten front row seats trying to subdue those things. They're practically in my backyard all day." Your face contorted into one of mild discomfort, "Just take the money, if you want to be able to look at the Tacet Field up close, I'll let you use my farm. Does that work?"

He put a weighty finger on his chin, crossing his other arm across his chest. He snapped his finger, as if he came to a realization. "What if I camp out on your farm? That way, you can see that I'm still in one piece."

Your jaw tensed for a moment, seeming to think it over. It didn't help your conscious that he seemed to naively sure of himself. You didn't know if the nasty full-length scar on the side of his face was any indicator of his skill or any fights he'd actually been in. Perhaps it'd been some freak accident during childhood? You took in a deep breath. "How about you pay a fraction of the price you would for the inn and just rent a room in my house? I have one facing the back, it's got the perfect view of the Tacet Field."

He tapped his chin a couple of times before finally seeming to agree that would be the best outcome. He finally nodded. "It's the best of both worlds, I don't see why not."

You breathed a quick sigh of relief, finally letting the tension in your shoulders relax. "Oh thank god."

Your face flushed an embarrassed crimson when the sound of his boisterous laughter met your ears, dying out just as quickly as it emerged. He offered you his hand, one you took in your own.

"Scar, pleasure doing business with you."

"You're back!"

Scar couldn't deny the sweet squeeze your tone of affection had on his heart. Of course, he couldn't exactly let it be known either. The quaint grin that always seemed to be there was all that greeted you. "I'm surprised you remember me."

You tilted your head at him curiously, your own warm grin still on your face. "Well, it isn't every day we get tourists. It also isn't every day that those tourists show up wearing bright red."

He was pleasantly surprised that you didn't mention the brutal injury that marred a majority of his face. Usually, when people brought up his rather... distinctive appearance, that was their go-to. "It's been a while though, hasn't it? Your village probably had more than enough foot traffic to forget about me."

You hummed, putting together the same thing he bought from your humble little stand last time. "Maybe, but they haven't been anywhere near as memorable." You turned around with the little satchel of treats. "You've got this way about you, y'know? It's hard to find in anyone else."

"Hard to find in anyone else... you say that like you've already found it again. Don't tell me you've managed to replace me already?" It was obvious that he took joy in the momentary conundrum that flashed across your expression.

"You're twisting my words!" You countered, pointing a jokingly accusatory finger at him. "You're hard to forget, especially cause you're one of the only people that's actually made the effort to strike up talk past polite conversation." Still, you gave an exaggerated sigh as you approached the front counter again, lamenting, "It'd help if you managed to say more than a few words without squeezing a few jabs in."

His smile widened to showcase his teeth, the small twinge of pain as the scar tissue strained against his joyful motion brought a small pool of pity into your own irises. It wasn't one that Scar missed either. Instead of bringing it up, he shrugged, "Life's too short to not cause some mischief, right? I'd be way too bored if I didn't at least poke some buttons."

You hummed, crossing your arms thoughtfully. You shrugged before sticking your tongue out at him, "Still, I won't forget anytime soon." You laid the little beige box on the table. "I'll have to get back at you somehow, I just have to wait for the right chance to do it."

Scar clicked his tongue in response, "Well, it seems you'll have to wait some time before that can happen."

You raised an eyebrow, "Well, I mean, you're here now, aren't you?" Your eyes softened, "If you need a place to stay tonight, you can set up camp in my house again--free of charge this time."

He shook his head, "No need, I'm just making a quick stop in." Precisely why he was confused he was even at your shop in the first place.

You nodded, "Well, just remember you're free to crash at mine anytime."

He chortled quietly before quipping, "What, are you that lonely?"

Your face flushed a familiar pink, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. You finally settled on snatching your box back into your arms. "You're awful!"

He laughed, louder, unabashedly.

You shook your head, "You're just a good roommate is all." You sauntered off towards the back of the booth again, locking up your safe. "You didn't stay out too late, you didn't make much noise at night, and you put up with my god-awful cooking."

He shrugged, "You're being pretty harsh on yourself, I remember it being pretty good."

You looked at him suspiciously, "Just because you're a worse cook doesn't mean I'm some kind of chef."

"Hey!"

It was your turn to laugh at him this time, swinging your keys around your finger. "You know what, you're right. Picking at you is pretty fun, I'll have to remember to do it more often."

He shook his head, though, it was clear there was no real disappointment behind it. "I'm a terrible influence."

You hummed, pushing open the small turn-style door to your booth. "I wouldn't say that. I just think you're a... unique influence. I don't really have many people my age to talk to."

He put his hands on his hips, "That's basically just another way to call me a bad influence. Plus, the fact that you don't have any other influences doesn't make me a good one."

You handed him the small, cutely wrapped box with one hand, "Yeah, but it does mean you don't have much competition." You pointed towards the small home at the end of the road, a building Scar remembered to be the inn with your other hand. "Say, let's go eat at Aunty Chunhua's."

He held the package close to his chest with a curious tilt of the head. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Instead of freezing up in embarrassment this time, you put your hands on your hips. "Only if you want it to be." You pushed him away from your stall excitedly, "To be honest, Chunhua made a batch of some of the best soup ever this morning and I've been catching a whiff of it for the past hour or so. It's making me really hungry."

His face caught a surge of heat, transitioning from a light pink caused by the weather to a deeper magenta. "So if I wanted it to be a date, it could be?"

You nodded, playing along with his joke. "Totally, I'll even give you some freebies if you agree to split the bill with me."

He snickered, "So you're only asking me cause you couldn't afford to get a bowl on your own?"

Your head bobbed up and down shamelessly, "Precisely," You threw a casual arm over his shoulders, "As much as I love her, Aunt Chunhua's prices are way too high for a humble farmer for me." Beginning to tug him along, "But with a handsome, rich stranger by my side I can have all the soup I want! So hurry up, I'm only getting hungrier!"

He breathed in slowly, "Handsome?"

"Yes, very handsome." Your eyes didn't divert from the source of the delicious smell wafting through the air as your mouth opened, "Your eyes are pretty, and your smile is easy on the eyes. Your face is really symmetrical even with the scar on half of it." You paused for a moment, "Speaking of which, I don't get why the other people in the village say you look scary, a scar is just another type of skin, right?"

He seemed to trail off into thought for a moment, "Hm, I guess it is."

The life of a Fractcidus overseer was not an easy one.

That fact should've been obvious to just about anyone that thought about it for a few minutes. It became even more obvious when you lived the life yourself.

It was all the more reason an overseer kept the people close to them at arms length. When you were constantly in danger, it meant anyone you associated with would also be in danger. There was no telling what kinds of hostile entities could get the bright idea to use a loved one as some kind of bargaining chip. Would Scar be willing to sacrifice that chip for the goals of the organization?

When it came to you, he didn't know.

You were this pure, unadulterated light. Sweet, untouched by the filth of the world. As a humble rice farmer in a rural village, he doubted you even knew the Fractcidus existed. Of course, you still knew what Tacet Fields were, you knew what Tacet Discords were, hell you had a Tacet Mark. You were strong and proud, never arrogant or unnecessary with your strengths.

But unlike Scar, you were completely selfless in your use of your abilities. Would you still look at him the same if you knew the depths of his soul? Would you peel back his burnt, horrid flesh, look at the demons in his heart and still accept him? Would you ever end of agreeing with his vision of the world?

He didn't know, nor did he care to find out.

For your sake and his, the question was better left unanswered.

He would keep his distance, he decided. He wouldn't ask the question, he wouldn't hear the answer. He felt a little unfair, plucking the decision from you entirely, but what choice did he have? If you decided to give the Fractcidus the time of day, your little life tucked away in your fields would grind to a strict halt.

There was no guarantee you would have a roof over your head in the night, no guarantee you would come home safe. Your booth at the town market would be left unattended every Sunday morning, you wouldn't be there to fend off the stray Tacet Discords that came in close enough to the village to actually threaten civilian life.

Even if he would be selfish in just about every other aspect of his life, something about your inherent lack of an ability to put yourself first inspired him to finally step up to the plate and put you first instead.

After his last visit, he knew he couldn't deny the brewing butterflies fluttering across the recesses of his ribcage. He couldn't stop the flush from spreading all over his face when he talked to you. He couldn't even really hold a real conversation without hinting at his feelings in one way or another, but besides his own feelings there were yours.

Even if you could get past his criminal pass times, would you be able to get past the fact that he didn't have the same parts as any other man?

He couldn't describe it, the way your own desires and proverbial thoughts intermingled with his own.

Alongside his own inner monologue, there was suddenly, a second voice. "The voice of reason", he called it. It argued for your needs and wants. You needed shelter, you needed safety. You might've wanted to be in a relationship with him, you might've wanted to see him more often, but giving you those would completely override your needs. Besides, he couldn't even guarantee that was what you wanted. Maybe, you wanted to be in a relationship with someone who could settle down with you. You might want someone who was born a man. So, since he couldn't be what you wanted or what you needed, so he removed himself from the equation entirely.

Or at least, he tried to.

Deep down, he was still selfish. He felt awful when he realized he couldn't completely put your safety first. The guilt churning in his gut only got worse when he realized you wouldn't have been able to bring yourself to blame him; not when he showed up to your door looking as pitiful as he did.

Caked in mud, soaking wet and frowning like a poor stray left out in the rain. Storm raging outside from every angle, thunder, lightning, torrential rain that made it difficult to hear your own thoughts. Blinded by the dark, at risk of running into any manner of Tacet Discords with the nearby Tacet Field.

"What the actual hell are you doing outside?" You demanded to know, ushering him inside. One second, you disappeared into the depths of your home, skittering down the stairs with a warm, dry towel being unceremoniously dropped on his head.

He didn't answer, letting you towel the muck and wetness out of his usually unruly white hair.

"Have you eaten yet?" You questioned him, throwing a stack of your own sleeping clothes at him. You ran around like a headless chicken, trying to get him comfortable.

More guilt dripped and dropped onto his shoulders like a leaking faucet as he stared at your dumbfounded face when he choked out his answer in the negative.

He couldn't help the sweet mix of fondness in his stomach the longer you fussed over him. Scolding him for not taking proper care of himself, poking him in the chest and telling him he was far too careless of his own health.

He couldn't stop the lopsided smile that snuck up on him when you pushed him into the same bedroom you'd provided him the last time he stayed in your home. Nor could he help himself when you yelled through the door that you were still making dinner so you had enough time to throw in some extra ingredients to accommodate a few extra portions.

'Just one more time,' He conceded, one more time he would let you take care of him.

'This will be the last time', he promised. Who he promised it to? He couldn't make up his mind. He didn't know if it was to you, the unknowing victim, or to himself.

"What's all this?"

You noticed pretty quickly, Scar had a habit of nervous fidgeting. Scratch that, not exactly nervous fidgeting but more bored fidgeting. When he wasn't doing anything, he would be bouncing his leg or drumming his fingers on whatever surface was available.

You set down the rather large bottle on the table, cracking open the top of it without a second thought. "It's some cider I've been aging. I wasn't really sure when I'd have the opportunity to share it with someone."

You didn't notice his smile falter as you turned around to go retrieve your wine glasses from a cabinet. When you returned to the table, his expression was the same as it always was. You settled yourself at the seat across from him at your little round table. "I don't really see what's all that special about me being here, I'll be gone in the morning when the storm's passed."

You nodded, "I mean, it makes sense that you're confused since you live a life of intrigue." You flicked the cork of the bottle off. "I'm alone a lot of the time here. Sometimes I'll stop into Miss Chunhua's to cough up what little money I can scrounge together, maybe sometimes I'll get courted by some lady from another village, but I don't have many meaningful friendships."

His brow twitched, but you didn't catch much of a shift in his face otherwise. "I catch your drift."

You chuckled, hand coming to rest on the sweet-smelling bottle of liquor, "Lighten up! I'm breaking out the alcohol as a part of a celebration that you're back!" You poured yourself about half a glass, pushing the bottle towards him afterwards, "I might live a lonely life, but it only makes every time you stop by more special."

He wondered, would you still look at him so fondly if you knew he would lead you to your pitiful end?

Even then, he couldn't bring himself to rain even harder on your parade. He took the large green jug in his hand before pouring himself a similar portion. He did his best to smile, to act joyful so that you would smile too.

But, you noticed the difference immediately. The fake versus the real. When he smiled genuinely, one side of his face would lift more than the other, a result of the drastic scarring. But, when he was pretending, it seemed like he ignored his own pain in favor of trying to look as natural as possible. Both sides of his face remained even.

"...Are you alright?"

The question caused the grin to vanish off his cheeks entirely, eyes raising to meet your own. He hated the fact that they were downturned, the clear worry scribbled all over your face. He made a crude attempt at reassuring you, the same practiced smile carving it's way onto his expression yet again. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't even try to hide the fact you were still worried. "Scar..."

A jolt of panic elevated his heart rate, tilting his head to the side. "Aw, are you worried about me? I'm totally fine," As a little last ditch effort, he quickly tacked on, "...maybe a little frazzled from the rain, but I'm okay."

Your eyes narrowed, creases inlaying themselves on your forehead. "You know you can tell me just about anything right? I-" You paused, "I might not be the smartest, I don't have some fancy education and I've never been to the capital, but I can do my best to try to understand."

His eyes widened, expression falling flat. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to write it off. "Hey, don't write yourself off, you're a lot smarter than half my coworkers." He attempted to crack a joke, but it was obvious it fell short when you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

"That still doesn't answer my question." Even when you were trying to be stern with him, you still didn't seem to have a strong enough spine to truly be mean. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm not some little porcelain doll that'll break if you say the wrong thing. I'm a grown man."

"Well, of course I know that." He paused, thinking over his words carefully, "It's just that I can't tell you."

You perked up in your chair, tilting your head to the side. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He let out a breathy laugh, "It's nothing against you, it's just... work-related?" Technically, it was the truth. He reasoned that it would be alright to say that much as long as he didn't really let much else slip. "I know you probably think it'd be alright for me to talk about it since you wouldn't know anything about the organization besides what I tell you, but it's confidential."

There was a pause while he waited for your response.

He let the tension fall from his shoulders when you reached for your wine glass, "I get it, rather be safe than sorry kind of situation, right?"

His head shook up and down a little bit too quickly for your liking, "Exactly like that actually."

You motioned with your glass to his own. "Wanna toast? Just to getting away from your problems for a little bit. I'm assuming your employer can't really reach you during a storm as bad as this on a little farm out in the middle of nowhere."

This time, his smile was as lopsided as you remembered. He scooped up his own glass and brought it to meet your own with a little 'Clink!'

He relaxed a little bit as he watched the concern melt off of your face. You took a swig of the cider, watching him take a sip as well. It was sweet, with a little tang underneath it. It was a standard fruit-infused cider. Still, to make some polite conversation he found himself asking, "What'd you make this with?"

You set your glass down. You instead brought the bottle to your face, swishing around the liquid to see if you could find any identifiers. "I can't remember if this was the tropfruit batch or the gemberry batch..."

Scar took another taste, "I'd make a bet on it being tropfruit."

You hummed, "Yeah, that sounds right."

"Do you want to take this any further?"

Scar took a moment to respond, still catching his breath from a kiss that was just a little bit to passionate to really be dismissed as anything but an invitation. He cursed himself internally for letting the alcohol cloud his judgement enough to let things go this far.

Even though everything in his mind screamed for him to stop things where they were, his grip on your shoulders was just as tight as before. His chest was still pressed against yours, his back was still leaned against the counter.

His glass of liquor remained on the tabletop just a few short feet away from where the two of you had semi-melted together into a tangle of limbs.

It'd started out innocent at first, he was teasing you like he always did. He couldn't remember when it'd gotten physical, the only real memory having been wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

It'd only really taken off from there, soon enough, you were hovering over him and his lower back was getting sore from the sharp countertop bleeding a line into it.

"I-" he paused. "It wouldn't be smart for me to let this go on for any longer." It was the continuation of that thought that would've really broken you heart. '-lest you find out he wasn't the man you thought he was.'

Even though he was the one to say no, he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut when you nodded at him. There was a deep regret coursing through his veins as you pulled away, going back to washing the dishes. He only felt worse when the selfish little part of his brain got frustrated when you tried to just pick up the conversation where it'd left off.

"You're heading out tomorrow morning, right? Where are you headed to?"

"You're drunk and you've already told me no tonight, 'm not going to take advantage of you."

Even in your insistence, Scar could feel your resolve melting when confronted with the alcohol running through your own system. The longer he pressed, the sloppier your words got. Every passing minute, it seemed a little bit more of your willpower seemed to slip past your fingertips like sand.

Like the sweet tendrils of temptation, he connected his lips to your jaw again, like a sweet promise. Even as he pulled away, he could smell the sickeningly sweet odor of the liquor left behind like a tattoo on your unblemished skin.

"What? Haven't gotten this close to anyone before?" He teased, shifting against you on the loveseat in your living room. He'd been sitting next to you previously, taking your drinks to the den so you two could properly relax before bed. Now, he writhed on your lap, straddling your hips.

Your eyes were bleary with intoxication, still trained on him as your eyelids drooped like a weeping willow. Your teeth were grit together, your hands on his waist as you tried to gently coax him off of you. "That's besides the point-" You were cut off by your own voice, grunting when he took the chance to bite down on the sensitive skin of your collar.

He snickered, grinding himself down onto your thigh, "No wonder you're so nervous."

This time, you truly made the effort to get him off of you, a sense of urgency in the way you called his name. "You need to stop and let yourself sleep this off." Your hands moved to be against his chest, trying your best not to hurt him when you moved to push him off of you. "I like you too much for you to sleep with me, regret it, and never come back again."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes finally meeting yours as he asked. "What if I don't regret it? Did you consider that?"

You blinked a few times, still sort-of out of it and under the influence. "I would've considered it if you didn't tell me you were uncomfortable earlier." You pushed against him gently. It wasn't strong enough to be classified a shove, just consistent pressure to keep his inebriated body from leaning up against yours. "Sso, go to bed. If you really want to do anything like this, you'll wait until you're sober to talk t'me about this."

He huffed, both understanding and impatient. His hands rested on your shoulders, moving from exploring the expanses of your torso. "Did you consider why I told you to stop?"

Your eyes shut in an attempt to make the room stop spinning for a moment. "No, 'course I didn't." While your sense of chivalry kept him from resting on you, your head rolled to the side to let your cheek rest on one of his hands on your shoulder. "You told me no, I did what anyone worth their salt was 'sposed to do. You didn't need a reason to say no."

He sighed, just barely twisting his wrist around to cradle your face. He brushed his thumb against your skin, his own eyelids starting to feel like they were solidifying into lead. "You're really dense, y'know."

Your eyebrows came down your forehead, furrowing to a point, "Who're you calling dense? You're the dense one, You- You-"

He cut off any and all trains of coherent thought when he pressed a seemingly innocent kiss to your lips. In your drunken mess, you chased after him when he pulled away. "You didn't think I had a thing for you, too?"

Your eyes blinked open at him, expression still a little tense. "Hm?"

He laid his forehead against yours, voice lowered to that of a whisper, "I stay away cause I like you. I don't want you to be in trouble cause you hang around me."

Immediately you were up in arms about his assertion, "That doesn't make any sense."

He hummed, "It might not make sense to you, but if you knew what I did, I feel like you would do the same thing."

He could feel the heavy breath that passed your lips. He could also feel your hands moving back down to his waist. You wrapped around him gingerly, tentatively. Even when you were too drunk to think straight, you cared so much about his comfort. "I'm not weak, 'm really strong. If someone came after me, I could handle it."

He chuckled, resting his head on your now free shoulder. "Yeah, but would you still like me if you knew I was the one that put you in trouble?" You nodded with a vigor against his own forehead. He combed his fingers through your hair, gently.

He let out a noise of contentment before drawing in another breath and holding it. "Even if I was trans?"

He could feel the way your eyes blinked in confusion, lashes tickling his forehead. "mm' so?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, forgetting how to breathe for a second.

Your hold on his hips got tighter as you pulled him in closer. "Why would that matter, at all?"

He pulled back from you, "You'd still have the hots for me? Even if I didn't have a dick?"

Your immaturity shone through as you chuckled at his crude language. You leaned back further into the plush of the sofa. "Yeah, why wouldn't I? I haven't really seen you naked before. I don't see why you'd think I'm only attracted to you for your body."

He could feel the revelation start to sober him up. His heart felt like it was beating a million miles a minute. He tripped over his words while he looked for the correct way to articulate his thoughts to a very drunk man, "W-Well, I mean yeah, but it's a deal breaker to some people. Not everyone is into that, y'know?"

Your eyes met his, the difference in your cognizance becoming obvious. While he was fully alert and at full attention, your eyes remained half-lidded and glazed with alcohol. "In all honesty, I don't know what I'm into. I don't have enough time to think about it." You gave his love handles an affectionate squeeze, "But when I do think about it, I think about you and how you make my heart feel all mushy."

He could feel his head start to spin as he tentatively asked again, "So you still feel the same way about me? You don't care that I don't have the same parts as a guy?"

You frowned, "What do you mean? You're still a guy, aren't you?" You put your head on his shoulder. "Your name is still Scar, I call you he and him and that's what you prefer, right? I don't really know all that much about it, but if you want me to call you a guy, then you'll always be the prettiest guy on the planet to me."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Scar?"

"Help me take my shirt off."

"You're sure you won't regret giving me your first time in the morning?"

Even if it sounded like he was teasing you, you could tell from the tremble in his legs that he meant it. You glided your fingers towards his waistband, tentatively waiting for the go-ahead. "Will you regret sleeping with me in the morning?"

He shook his head again, lifting his hips every so slightly so you could hook your finger under his pants and start the process of tugging them off. "Well, there's your answer." You pulled them down his thighs, getting them to his ankles before he helped kick them off the side of the bed. You gripped his thighs with one hand, the other motioning towards his boxers. "May I?"

There was the lopsided grin you loved so much. He gave a quick affirmation, nodding his head with a playful, "So polite." Despite his eased assurance, you could tell he was still nervous. You knew this would be your first time, but you wondered if this might be his.

Your hand came up to intertwine with his, sliding his boxers off with one hand as you dipped your face down to plant a saccharine kiss to his forehead. There was a pleasant shiver up his spine when he was fully exposed, completely naked and bare for you to see him in his entirety.

Still, even when confronted with the countless scars on his body, you dipped down to his torso to worship every bit of skin you could get your greedy lips on. He shook with an added fervor when you kissed at his top scars.

The tremors got even worse when you were finally situated between his legs. He bashfully averted eye contact when he could feel you looking at the parts of his body he was easily the most embarrassed of. It only got worse when he could feel the mattress shift when you laid all your weight on it.

He let out a shaky moan when you delicately planted a kiss on his folds. Sensitive, he was far too sensitive. Generally, you had an okay idea of what you were doing in theory. The real advantage here was your impossibly quick ability to learn exactly what made him tick.

Your touch was ticklish against his skin when you pushed his legs over your shoulders. He felt beyond vulnerable when he really was completely on display for your eyes to see and your featherlight touch to roam.

You licked between the lips tentatively and slowly, waiting to see which part your tongue ran over would make him squirm the most. You drank in the noises he made and the trembling of his thighs around your head when you parted him open with your fingers. You closed your eyes when you placed a kiss where you could only guess the clit was.

When you earned a quiet whine in return, you turned a majority of your attention to the spot. First, it was a lick, and then it turned into experimental sucking until the nub hardened under your attentive care. His fingers wrapped themselves in the tresses of your hair, pulling on your scalp with each and every sensation that coursed through his body.

Eventually, you set your sights just below the spot you'd been taking care of before. With a hesitant sense of uncertainty, you pressed your tongue flat against the opening. You were rewarded with a harsh yank and a breathless call of your name.

You withdrew your tongue to savor his taste before you delved back in again. You drew little circles around his slit before further pinning his lips open so you could truly go to town on him. You pushed your tongue inside of him slowly, a rush of pride rolling down your back with the sigh that emitted from his lips.

Subconsciously, he pushed his hips closer to your face. Your nose rested against his clit for a moment before you started to explore his insides. His walls twitched around your tongue in tandem with the twitching of his thighs flexing and unflexing around your head. Your movements were slow, noting and taking in each and every little reaction to each and every one of your delicate touches.

He got impatient, a needy whimper pulled from his throat when he ground his pelvis against your face. To accommodate him, you sped up quickly, trying to remember which spots to hit inside while you did so. The building heat only seemed to worsen when your fingers came up to his clit, brushing against it so gently with both your nose and pads of your fingertips.

You drew lazy little tight circles on the nub, savoring his taste on your tongue while he all but did his best to ride your face. Soon enough, your other hand was at his entrance just barely warming the skin on the inside of his thighs before they joined your tongue inside of him.

One finger to start with, slowly going in and out at the same pace as your tongue. Then a second joined. At this point, it was getting hard to keep his noises quiet. A louder moan broke the soft atmosphere when you started to scissor your fingers apart to stretch him open. You started to speed up your movement at the insistence of his own rocking hips against your face.

You let out a muffled groan when his legs clamped around your head. The vibrations sent him careening over the edge as his back arched up into a beautiful curve. He spasmed around your tongue, mouth open in a beautiful mewl as you did your best to nurse him through it.

You pulled away from him, lips stained with slick and a different drunken haze in your eyes. You smiled as you watched him catch his breath. You wiped his release off your hand on the comforter of your bed, moving up again to hold his hands. Both of you were panting, one from a lack of oxygen, the other to catch their breath while they were coming down from the clouds above.

You smiled wide at him, obviously very proud of your work. "How was it? I didn't disappoint, did I?"

He closed his eyes as an embarrassed flush washed over his face. Chest still heaving as he did his best to breathe, he muttered out a quick, "Virgin my ass."

You chuckled against his skin, kissing his cheek. "Do you want to keep going? We can call it a night from here."

He shook his head, "No, I'm still good to go as long as you are."

You nodded, "Would you want to keep going in this position or is there another one you have in mind that might be more comfortable for you?"

He seemed to think for a minute, finally settling on one of the thoughts flying around his head. "I guess I've got something in mind."

"Oh fuck- Right, Right there-"

You stroked his sides lovingly, angling yourself to hit the same spot over and over again. Though, it wasn't as though you had much say in it.

You gave a particularly loud grunt when Scar let himself sink the entire way down, his thighs all but giving out on him as he tried to keep on going. There was sweat dripping down his entire body as he tried to pick himself back up, but he realized pretty shortly after that there really was no hope for him.

From his position on top, he leaned down to get a sweet taste of your lips and the remnants of liquor from your tongue. Pleasant sensations racked his body as you picked up his hips with your hands and brought him back down. He moaned into the kiss, his hands scrunching up into fists against your own sweat stained chest. He pulled away shortly after, chest rising and falling rather quickly. Sweetly, he requested, "A little help?"

You nodded, just barely out of it. You hooked your arms underneath his knees, pushing him softly onto his back. He molded into a curve, all but drooling at the tingles that exploded all over from the sudden shift in position. If that wasn't enough, it seemed you pressed even harder into his cervix and his stomach when you hiked his legs up over your shoulders. You ground your pelvis into his for a short second, but if felt like ages with the aftershocks wreaking havoc on Scar's poor brain.

You pulled out just halfway before easing your way back in, basking in the warmth that was the soft groan passing from Scar's lips. You repeated the same motion again, leaning down just like your partner did to paint his shoulders in your little marks. With the mix of shy ecstasy coursing through his body and a taste of your mouth on his skin, it felt like Scar was high on some kind of newly invented drug.

You shifted a little before moving your hips again, pulling out just enough to leave only the tip of your dick inside before slamming in to the hilt. "Right there?"

His jaw dropped in a silent scream, clamping down on you extremely lewdly. His eyes fluttered shut as the noise trapped in his throat escaped in a shaky call of your name again. He nodded his head quickly upon finally registering your question. "Just like that- Ah fuck! That was absolutely perfect."

He waited in anticipation as the slow drag of your erection in his walls sent another wave of pleasure careening through his nervous system, all but toppled by the sudden crash of your pelvis against his ass again. He let out a groan, only complimented by the sounds of your lips suctioning to his collarbone.

You started to set your pace, just a little faster than he'd been while he'd been riding. It wasn't much, but it seemed to be just enough to edge him closer to the finish line. His intestines tied themselves into a knot all while it felt like you were boring a hole into his uterus.

Despite all his act for being a big bad overseer while he was on the job, while he was in your bed, in your arms with his knees pushed up to his shoulders, he turned into a soft-hearted crybaby. He could feel your pace pick up as you twitched inside of him. The caress of your dick inside of him only made the knot in his intestines get tighter as he struggled to breath properly.

Usually, he was quick with his retorts and quips. He could only listen as they were reduced to nothing but throaty whines of you name and begging for more, sweet noises that melded with the creaking and slamming of your headboard against the wall.

He held onto your shoulders in a death grip, palms pressed flat against your boiling hot skin right next to his own legs. His nails curled into your shoulder blades, leaving delectable little red lines in a sweet mark of ownership.

"Shit, shit-" He clamped down around you again, chest pressing further against yours when your fingers came to draw messy circles on his clit. Hiding his face under your chin, he couldn't help the string of curses that dripped past his lips like honey. "Ohouh Fuck~ Shit~ Ahahn~"

Tears that'd been brewing for the past half hour the two of you had tumbled around in the sheets started to flow down his cheeks. The onslaught of euphoria all over his body sent his mouth flying open as he finally spasmed around your cock, walls fluttering like a vice.

This time, it was your turn to swear as you did your best to fight against the suction of his slit. You pulled out just barely in time to cum on his stomach.

The two of you did your best to catch your breath as you unhooked his legs from your shoulders, basically collapsing next to him on the bed like a boulder. He couldn't help the urge to nuzzle himself up to your side, only further encouraged when you wrapped a lazy arm around him and pulled him in closer.

He hid his face against the sweaty skin of your stomach. He curled into a little ball, suddenly very aware of the air that the two of you had previously been warming up. Luckily, it seemed you had a built in radar for his needs. Quickly and silently coming to the rescue, you dropped one of your fluffier blankets on top of him.

He pulled it around his shoulders gratefully before going back to basking in the warmth of the skin on your tummy. You sleepily tousled his hair before finally sitting up with a grunt.

He perked up immediately, automatically a little upset that you were already going to leave. "Where are you going?"

You yawned, "I'm going to go fill up the bathtub. " You snickered at him before playfully flicking his forehead, "Did you think I was going to bed feeling like a sweat monster?"

"No welcome home?"

Automatically, your head shot up from where you were bent over checking in some of your droopier crops.

In front of you stood your boyfriend of a year in all of his bright-red glory. Just as quickly as you registered that he'd actually come home after being gone for a few weeks, your face brightened up.

No later than that, you were scrambling to your feet and breaking out into a sprint towards him. The dirt crunching under your feet and the crops you were running through be damned, the moment you reached him, your mud-caked arms were around his red uniform to lift him up into the air.

His usual boisterous laugh ripped through the air as the clouds behind his head swirled into some amalgam of white you couldn't be bothered with. "I didn't expect you home for another week!"

He nodded, planting a wet kiss on your cheek just to hear the same laughter rattle from your own chest. "I just couldn't wait to see you again." The same lovestruck puppy eyes were all he could see before suddenly he was attacked with a flurry of lips attached to every square inch of his face.

He let you lavish him in all your pent up love graciously, a satisfied purr rumbling in his throat. Soon enough, you planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips, wrapping him up snug in your arms. You rested your chin on top of his head, secretly amused with the way he leaned forward to accommodate you.

Life wasn't always easy for the two of you, especially since the two of you had a rather unconventional relationship, but life was sweet.

He usually left for long periods of time on missions, he also did his best to stay away right after missions for fear of accidentally leading someone with less than pure intentions to your home. But every moment he had some time off to spend with you, he made the most of it.

By now, he'd also already told you of his mission with the Fractcidus. While you certainly didn't approve, you also conceded you didn't know enough about the political state of the Huanglong or Jinzhou to really judge him. Not only that, you really didn't have all the relevant information you believed would be needed to draw an informed conclusion on what exactly prompted his realization.

So, instead of breaking up with him for being a "monster", you just told him to be safe and you yourself kept out of his work related matters.

Perfect, right?

Well... almost.

Sometimes, staying away from home didn't exactly stop any weirdos from trying to sneak up on him in your house in the dead of night. Only to find a very cranky, very protective farmer with a Tacet Mark and enough pent up anger to fuel the capital.

If Scar just so happened to come home to see you dragging a body to the town medic, he couldn't exactly help the little rush of pride that washed over him. But most importantly, it brought him comfort to know that you were more than capable of protecting yourself when he was away from home.

The thing he had been most scared of when he first thought over his feelings was losing you. He didn't want to lose you to a dangerous life as one of the many Fractcidus Overseers working to achieve their end goal, he didn't want to lose you to your own differing moral values, and most of all, he didn't want to lose you because of his own risky life decisions that frankly didn't have anything to do with you.

The peace of mind that came with watching you, in your pajamas, lug an unconscious intruder to Old Man Runchu's shack in the morning after you'd woken and found them still knocked out in the kitchen was more than he could ask for. It also showcased your especially kind heart, being unwilling to truly injure someone who was intent on either killing or kidnapping you.

Especially cause if Scar was there, little more than their Skeleton would be left.

But that was a different matter all together.

He laced his fingers with yours, swinging both of your arms at your side. "What do you say we go to Miss Chunhua's stall for some Milky Fish Soup that you love so much?"

Immediately you picked up your chin from the crown of his head to plant a big wet sloppy kiss on your forehead, "You see honey, this is why I love you."

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

"rest is peace Scar's pussy zipper I miss you every day"

Oh my gosh hi guys

I'm back with another fic (not ayato mpreg) and this time it's for wuwa!!!

Writing this fic made me go back to playing the game and I finally finished the story quest and hello? Scar is so babygirl???? To the anon who requested this i'm including you in my will because I enjoyed writing it so much

I fear he might be a little ooc but I was possessed by some soft-hearted spirit while I was writing this

As always, requests are open and welcome but I might have to close them for a little bit cause I have like 7 in line right now LMFAOOOO

speaking of requests, i'm going to get around to adding a waiting list for requests just so you guys can see what's coming up and potentially when requests might open again, y'know y'know

kthxbye

- love, 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘵-19

[goodbuckcharlie]

The lake’s embrace | Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack’s neighbor and first friend in New Jersey outside of the team, has finally ran out of excuses to avoid going to the lake house. She has avoided going in the past for two reasons. 1) after a traumatic experience she has been afraid of deep water 2) she doesn’t get along with the youngest Hughes. But when shit hits the fan it’s Luke who saves her life.

Warning: near death experience, fear of water, childhood trauma/abuse, mentions of death.

Notes: This story means a lot to me as it hits close to home, also it’s the first story that made me actually sob while writing it, for that reason I have decided to do minimal editing.

The young florist is coming home from her normal 9 to 5 shift from her mother’s flower shop. She wouldn’t trade this job for the world. She loves listening to the stories her customers always carry in. From young men asking out their crush to the old woman buying flowers for her lover’s grave. Sometimes she grows green with envy as she struggles from a lack of romance in her life. She sighs to herself as she reaches for her keys in her purse.

“Max!” The girl knew what her neighbor wanted before he even made it to her door. She quickly remembers the excuse she had came up with in her room the other day in anticipation of this conversation. She regathers herself before turning in the direction of her neighbor. While she was just expecting to see Jack, she is surprised to see Luke there as well.

“Jack shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” Completely ignoring Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“No surgery can hold me down.” Jack flexes causing Max stare at him in disbelief. “Anyways you know what I’m here for, I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

“I’m not sure I can go, I can’t just leave my mom empty handed at the shop.” She knows her mom can handle to shop with the help of her husband but as far as she knows, Jack doesn’t know that, or does he.

“Funny you say that,” Jack replied holding a smile that would rival a Cheshire Cat. This causes Max to quirk her head in confusion, “I went to the shop after you went home yesterday and asked your mom and she said that she will be fine and that you need time to relax.”

“I don’t know why you went through all of that when you know she’s just going to find another excuse not to go.” Luke pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at Max, “Look if you don’t want to go just say that so he shuts up.”

“Glad to see you’re still as pleasant as a melted popsicle Luke.”Max doesn’t know what came over her but as Luke rolls his eyes again she felt something snapped, “You know what, I’ll go. My mom is right I deserve to rest.”

Jack nearly leaps with joy. He quickly tells her all the details she needs to get ready for the trip before the brothers leave to their place.Max quickly lets herself into her place .

The time flies and the next thing Max knows, she on the pier of the Hughes Family lake house. She’s met a few….. characters as she would describe them. From Jack’s flirty friend Trevor to one of Luke’s old college team mates that for the record are way nicer than Luke. So far she has avoided going into the water either by staying inside with Ellen or claiming to be sunbathing. But much like her excuses to avoid coming to the lake house in the first place, her excuses on avoiding the water would run out sooner or later.

“Come on Maxie as much as we love looking at your pretty face from over here it would be better in the water,” Jack calls out from the water. Now Max was use to Jack’s flirtatious remarks so she simply ignores him and continues to read her book.

“Leave her alone Jack if she doesn’t want to get into the water then she doesn’t have to.” Both Jack and Max are surprise to hear Luke stand up for her.

“Awe Lukey finally got a soft spot for Maxie?” The eldest Hughes who met Max a few times before, teases Luke who is standing next to him by the grill.

“Fuck no she’s still annoying, I’m just tired of hearing Jack bitch and moan.” And just as fast as he arrived ,nice Luke was gone and was replaced with the normal hater Luke.

“Oh fight me you White crayon ass bitch,” Max flips Luke off while going back to her book. But she doesn’t miss the roar of laughter the plague the area in response to her comeback.

“I promise Maxie by the end of this week I will get you in the water.” Max ignores Jack’s seemingly harmless threat in order to keep her mind at peace but in reality her heart is racing at the thought of going in the water.

Max avoids the water for the next few days but of course fate wasn’t on her side.

It was the second to last day at the lake house before Max had to go back to Newark. She is back on the pier this time she is just talking to Jack who is telling her some childhood stories. Max had no suspicions of Jack’s plan until she feels herself being picked up from behind.

She looks at the culprit and sees a smiling Trevor who was looped into Jack’s plan.

“Trevor for the love of God I’m begging you, don’t throw me in that lake,” Panic fills Max as she tries pleading with Trevor. But the stupid boy doesn’t see the panic and laughs off her pleads.

“Sorry Maxie no can do.” Trevor runs to the end of the pier and before she knew it she was in the air falling down to her watery grave.

As Max hit the water, she was quickly thrown back into the memory of one of the worst days of her life.

Max loved water as a kid, growing up in Southern California, she was a classic mermaid loving girl. She actually dreamed of being a marine biologist. But one faithful day changed all of that.

Her father was rarely around in her childhood and for good reasons. He was an alcoholic with anger issues. So imagine her mother’s surprise to hear that Max and her little brother had been picked up early from school by their father.

The then 8 year old Max had no clue what was going on, but she was just happy to see her dad. What she didn’t know was the evil plan her father had. Now a lot of the small details are a blur to her , but she vividly remembers her father driving his car into the lake with her and her brother in the back seat.

Now she tried her best to pull her brother out of the water, but she was fighting against the raging current that kept pulling her back down into the water. The raging water and the strength she needed to save her brother was too much for her frail body and she ended up passing out from exhaustion before she could get out of the water.

When she woke up, she found out she was the only one to survive the crash.

Everyone head turns when they hear Max’s scream. It wasn’t a normal scream, it was one of pure fear. Everyone looks at the situation with confusion. Well everyone but Luke who run into action and runs to the end of the pier and dives in after Max.

Without thinking he grabs Max and pulls her to land.

“CPR she needs CPR.” Luke shouts panicking. Jack’s girlfriend, Sam, runs over to where Luke lays Max down at. Luckily Sam use to be a lifeguard and she has kept up to date on her cpr certification.

Luke leaves Max in Sam’s care before going over to his panicked brother. Luke shoves Jack.

“You should have fucking listened to her when she said fucking no Jack.” Luke shoves Jack even harder. “She can’t swim dumbass.”

“Hey it’s not his fault, she should have told him she couldn’t swim.” Trevor stands in between the brothers.

“No mean fucking no Trevor, she doesn’t have to tell us shit beyond no.” Luke now pushes Trevor, “You nearly killed her for what? Shits and giggles?”

Before anyone could say anything else, they hear violent coughing. Luke glares at Jack and Trevor once more before rushing to Max’s side.

“Luke? You saved me?” Max asks with a raspy voice. Luke simply gestures to Quinn who is holding a water bottle. Quinn understands and hands Luke the water. He helps Max drink. “How did you know?”

“About a month ago, I found you drunk in the hall,” Luke recalls.

Like had just came home from his late night gym session, when he sees a female figure sitting outside of his and Jack’s apartment door. He assumes it’s one of Jack’s weird stalker fans. But as he got closer he realized it was Max.

Now Luke has a crush on Max but the poor boy is a hopeless romantic. His failed attempts of flirting through teasing had came out ruder than he intended creating a bad impression towards Max. So when he sees the girl he likes, drunk at his door step he can’t help but be concerned.

“Max?” Luke puts down his gym bag when he hears the sobs coming from Max, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lukey’s birthday.” This statement confuses Luke since his birthday wasn’t til September and it was currently April.

“No my birthday is in September.” He sits next to Max and she automatically puts her head on his shoulder.

“Noooo my brother Lukas.” She slurs her words, “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save my little brother.”

She tells Luke the story. Luke feels a mix of anger towards Max’s father as well as sympathy towards Max and her loss.

“I am such a bad person,” Max cries even louder, “If only I was stronger, my brother would have lived to turn 16.”

“Maxie it wasn’t your fault, you were 8,” Luke does his best to comfort the drunk girl, but he knows she probably can’t even hear him in her drunken state.

So he just holds her as she cries in the hallways until she passes out. He grabs her keys that were fortunately in her hands, and he carefully tucked her into her bed.

“God I thought that was a dream,” in that moment, Max think she would have preferred going back into the water than dealing with the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Awe you dream about me?” Max turns red and she quickly turns away from Luke, “Don’t worry I dream about you too, quite often actually.”

She snaps her head back at Luke in shock, “You do? But I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” He says while running his hand in her wet hair, “I am just horrible at flirting.”

“Flirting? Why would you flirt with me,” She looks at Luke for a second before putting one and one together. “OHHHH, really?”

“Yeah unfortunately,” she shoves Luke with the little strength she has, “but we can talk about this later, let’s get you inside and warm.”

Luke picks Max up as the two ignore everyone else.

“Wait what the fuck you mean unfortunately? You fucking uncooked spaghetti noodle.”

[buuniebaby]

ALL MINE. 🎀

includes: drunk sex (pre-negotiated), daddy kink, jealous possessive hamzah 💗💗💗

wc: 2.5k

here’s your porn.. i am sooo tired but literally first thing in the morning (my alarm is literally set to 5am) im finishing up some hcs and latina reader. 💗

thank you guys for all the support on my fics and being patient with me - it means a lot ! 💖

physical touch has always been your love language.

you’re a relatively clingy person in general, but your affection is doubled when you’re around your boyfriend. it’s always one of your hands somewhere - hip, thigh, arms, or even other places. he reciprocates it, being attached to you by the hip 24/7.

it only gets worse when you’re drunk.

hamzah’s in his car, grasping the wheel with an angry pressure, trying to keep his composure. it’s late - way too late to to be picking you up from the bar. he’s not necessarily upset at you for having fun, and he’s never one to control whether you go to parties or not, drink or not drink, but something about you being intoxicated with so many people around irritates him a bit.

he watches as you, your best friend, and a guy he doesn’t happen to recognize walk out of the door. whoever this guy is, he’s a little too touchy with you for hamzah’s liking. it’s like he’s trying to grope you but doesn’t want to be weird, but it’s still weird anyways.

he decides he’s been pushed a little too far off the edge when he slams his car in park and exits it.

you’re smiling up at him, head lulling back a bit. you’re fucked up, and he can tell. he watches as you droop back into the guy behind you, his walking pace speeding up.

he yells a loud, “baby?” trying to send some sort of signal to the man to show that you’re his. the moment he gets close enough to you to make contact with you, a big hand is yanking you by the wrist into his arms.

you immediately slouch into hamzah’s body, who picks you up over his shoulder and carries you back to the car. his grip is tight, as if someone was trying to steal you from his arms.

“hamzaahhhh,” you groan out, recognizing his possessive touch.

the car ride back is quiet - a mix of your boyfriend’s anger and your drunken sleepiness. it’s not that he’s angry at you; you’re not the problem here. it’s whoever he was, the man touching what belongs to hamzah.

“who was that?” he mumbles, speaking firmly under his breath.

“this guy who my friend.. she was trying to hook up with.. I think.” you mutter, remembering what you’re about to say as you speak it.

“you sure he’s into her? seemed more touchy around you.” he continues, keeping his eyes strictly in front of him.

“ew- don’t say that.” you drag as you speak, drunkenness prominent in your voice. you hear hamzah let out a chuckle under his breath. it calms him a little - he knows you’re better then that. it doesn’t end his irritation, but it makes him feel at least a little bit better.

“you’re mine, by the way.” hamzah says, hand creeping up to your thigh, the other still on the wheel. “don’t forget that.”

it’s still hurting hamzah by the time you get home. he’s aware that he may be being unreasonable, given that you’ve admitted you don’t have any attraction for whoever that was. but it’s the way you sway your hips drunkenly as you walk, thighs showing out of your tiny little dress - a sight he wants to hide away from the world, something that should belong to him. just the thought of anyone else being attracted to you makes him feel like his throat is closing up with anxiety.

as you’re turning the corner to go to your shared room, you force yourself to take a step back, doing a double take. you look at hamzah’s puzzled expression, trying to decipher whether what you’re seeing is real or you’re just drunk.

“you’re mad.” you state, looking at him straight in the eyes. you’re asking a question, but the way it comes out is firm. your brain is a little scrambled.

“m’not-“ he mumbles, stopping himself. “not at you.” he continues as he follows you into your bedroom.

you fall back-first onto the bed, closing your eyes and absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers as you speak. “something happen?”

he scoffs a bit. you’re what happened.

“i guess you’re just.. really fucking hot. and other people know that, and it’s just like..” he rambles, pausing to think.

“like?” you tilt your head.

“like, i want you all to myself.” he says under his breath, sitting himself next to you on the bed. his comment makes you jolt up, sitting to face him.

you watch as he eyes you down from above. all you do is pout your lips, looking back at him with furrowed brows. you’re not getting it.

“you have me.” you say, firmly, scooting just a tiny bit closer to him. a hand trails to your thigh.

he lets out a deep sigh as he gathers his thoughts. you see his brain computing, like gears turning telling him what to say.

“i’m not saying you’re the problem.” he starts. “i know you’re loyal. i trust you.” you feel his hand move from your thigh to your hand, holding it gently, then giving it a squeeze. it’s a nice affirmation, but you still don’t understand what he’s getting at.

“just want you to be safe- don’t want anyone to hurt you. don’t want you just, trusting any guy at the bar when you’re messed up like this.” he says, rubbing his finger up and down your wrist. you lean your head on his shoulder, processing his words.

“yeah,” you sigh, closing your eyes on his shoulder. you can still feel his stare down at you, even if you can’t see it. “you’re right.”

that’s hamzah’s closure, his key to calm down and cuddle you in bed; rest his mind.

until he hears a quiet, “what if i want to get hurt? like, destroyed.”

“what?” he asks, peace interrupted. he’s turning to you, completely lost. you pout, and suddenly your hand has snuck out of his, now creeping over his sweatpants.

“especially by you.” you smile. now he understands where this is going. he shudders as you softly palm him over his pants. it’s not enough to get him going, but he can feel himself starting to get hard. “want you to use me like im your toy- because I’m yours, hamzah.”

and fuck, does that turn him on. you know exactly how to excite him, even when drunk. you’re pushing all the right buttons, making the possessiveness in him really start to come out.

his hand comes down on yours, bringing your movements to a stop. he breathes heavy for a second, but speaks firmly once his breath is caught. “you’re drunk, baby- i don’t know if you should-“

you interrupt him, coming in cold. “you don’t remember?”

he tilts his head back at you. “remember.. what?”

“i told you, when i was sober.. said you could do anything to me if i was drunk. said that for a reason, y’know.” you recall, giving him a big, eyes-dazed, woozy smile.

it comes back to him all then, and fuck, you’re right. he had completely forgotten about the whole conversation you two had, where you had given him permission to fuck you, even if you were intoxicated.

it’s a mix of that and the imagery in his mind from your prior words that causes him to mutter out a strangled “fuck it,” pulling your body on top of his. you can’t help but let out a squeal-like giggle: you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted.

he’s kneading at your hips before he can even pull you into a kiss. it’s messy when your lips press against his, sloppy kisses leaving spit around his lips.

his hand trails down to the bottom of your dress, pulling it over your ass. he pulls away from the kiss, wanting to see what’s down there, only to be met with a sight that fuels his possessiveness.

“wearing a slutty thong like this out?” he mutters, spanking you hard. “what if someone saw, baby? you know that pretty pussy is just for me.” he continues, rubbing over the same area he just spanked.

“m’sorry-“ you whine, but you’re cut off by your own voice, gasping as he rips your thong literally in half, pulling them off of you.

“it’s okay baby.” he smirks, holding the ripped panties in his hand. “you know that I’m the only guy who gets to see all of you.”

“also, ill buy you a new one.” he whispers, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. next thing you know he’s pulling your dress over your chest.

“no bra either baby?” he says, shaking his head, and suddenly another hand is coming down on your ass. “bad fucking slut.”

you grind your hips into him, apologizing with your body. you whimper out a helpless, “m’sorry, im sorry daddy-“

hamzah pulls back a little at that, pausing.

“what’d you just say?” he says, making sure what he just heard was real.

you continue to frantically apologize, a string of “m’sorry, im yours, i didn’t mean it,” until finally, you say that word.

“i’m sorry, daddy.”

that’s all it takes to get a rise out of hamzah. he’s slamming you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. his hips grind down on your naked body, dick still enclosed by his sweatpants, the friction sending shocks to your clit.

“my fucking slut,” he groans, “showing off her body to the whole fucking world.” his hips slam into yours hard, still fully clothed.

“you need me to mark you up? need everyone to know that you belong to me?” he angrily barks out at you, only making you wetter.

“please- wanna show you off daddy- bruise me.” is all you have to say for hamzah to start biting at your neck. he doesn’t stop at just a few hickeys, no, your throat is covered in bitemarks. he continues down to your collarbone, biting, suckling, nibbling - anything to claim your body as his.

he pulls away, admiring the redness all over your upper half. you’re like an art piece, painted with the red-hot passion coming from his body. you’re his muse.

a hand wraps itself around your throat, putting you in a chokehold. hamzah uses his grip to yank you out of your laying position. from there, he picks you up, pushing you down to the floor. you get on your knees, as if it’s an instinct.

“my pretty girl’s face, my fucking throat.” you hear him mindlessly mumble, untying and pulling down his sweatpants. you can see how hard he is through his boxers, cock nearly peeking out through the waistband. you feel your mouth water as he pulls it out, desperate for it to be inside you.

he slaps the head against your lips, once, twice, before you’re opening up for him. he goes slow at first, letting you dance your tongue around the tip, taking your time.

but hamzah is impatient.

it’s why he’s grabbing at the back of your head, forcing you down to the base. you squeal when your nose makes contact with the thick layer of hair against his skin, balls slapping against your chin. he holds your head there for a second, then lets you pull off for air.

you drunkenly smile up at him, spit slicked around your mouth. he slaps his cock against your face, making you squint your eyes. he laughs at how fucked-out you are, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“such a fucking slut.” he chuckles, deep and under his breath. “only for my cock.”

you smile up back at him stupidly, mouth still covered in slick. “only for your cock,” you repeat after him.

“mhmm? want it inside you?” he teases. what he doesn’t expect is your immediate reaction, excitedly jumping up off your knees and into his lap. you wrap your arms around his neck, bare chest pressed to his shirt.

“please, fuck- need your cock in me sooo bad daddy. want you to fucking use me, so bad, make a mess out of me.” you ramble, giggling as you speak. he grinds his hips up into yours as you relay your fantasies to him, turned on by how desperate you are for his cock, and his only.

“yeah? want it that bad, baby?” he says in a sing-song voice, teasing you. he grips his cock in his hand, touching your bare pussy with just the tip, but he makes sure not to slide it in. you nod, desperately, shaky pleads rapidly exiting your mouth.

“gotta do something for me first. that okay, baby?” he asks, and you’re nodding rapidly.

“mhm? what is it?” you ask back, eager for his cock.

“can you repeat after me, baby?” he softly asks, receiving another nod from you.

“im hamzah’s slut, and all of my holes belong to him.”

you don’t hesitate.

“im hamzah’s slut, all my holes belong to him, my pussy is yours- fuck!” you scream when his cock enters you. he doesn’t hesitate or slow for you to get used to the stretch. he’s claiming every inch of your pussy, going as deep as he can inside of you.

“fucking made for my cock.” he says, snapping his hips up into you at a cruel pace. “taking it so well.”

you can already feel yourself getting close. his dick prods up against that spot every thrust, and his words only make it feel better. you shudder at each brush against your sweet spot, thighs shaking softly against him.

hamzah only increases the pace, thrusting into you with vigor. it’s a brutal assault on your cunt, but god does it feel good. his hand brushes through his curls while the other pins you down to the mattress.

he feels you clench around him, and suddenly his thrusts switch from fast and eager to slow but deep. he follows you as you orgasm around him, planting his cum deep inside you.

he pulls out with a grunt, catching his breath while he admires your body. again - you’re his work of art. he watches as a trickle of cum leaks out of you, and he pushes it back in with his finger.

he’s claimed you.

you’re his.

he pulls himself out of his trance when your body moves out of its position. he remembers how drunk you are again, watching you as you reach to tuck yourself in under the covers. he places a kiss in your cheek before he gets in bed next to you, tucking the two of you in together.

it’s peaceful, domestic- it’s satisfying to him, the way he knows that you won’t get this with any other guy. even when you’re drunk, you still don’t protest his possessiveness. it makes him feel warm inside.

as much as you’re his, he’s yours.

[quibbs126]

…Okay, you may end up seeing these drawings yet again on a later date

I finished the page, which was small at 500x500 px, but I wanted to make the page bigger. I did that, and I drew one new thing, but now I don’t know what else to draw on there. So for now, I figured I might as well post the original full page right now

Yeah, sorry for the laziness

This is the other sketch I finished on there, for those curious

Anyways, so yeah, this new style practice I’m trying

The original page I tried these out on is this, which also isn’t full, but I thought trying it out with actual characters instead of just random poses and shapes would be better, so I switched over to Cookie Run characters

The method is still a work in progress when it comes to all the shapes and the red sketch layer

I suppose what I should do now is try drawing a bunch of different Cookies that have different body shapes, so that I have practice with that. As well as maybe attempt some full body ones

I suppose you can suggest some if you want, considering I don’t know who to draw other than like, Hollyberry or Avocado, since I should try drawing large but not buff characters here. But I should also probably draw more skinny, and also chubby

But on to what I actually drew

So I already talked about Peach Blossom and the top Dark Choco drawing prior, so no real need to elaborate

The Dark Choco and Dark Cacao one was me drawing them in their younger forms to see how they compare. Not for any sort of study thing, but just in a symbolic sort of way. Since they’re so similar looking

I think I had a lot more fun with Choco, especially his hair. I remember Cacao being mostly annoying for his weird cloak thing that I don’t understand

The hand pose was ass though. I knew the general idea of what I wanted, that being them with their hands over their swords, but I was struggling to figure out how to draw the hands. Not to mention I had to change the pose from the red sketch because the swords were further down than I put them. I still don’t think I did the pose exactly correct, but screw it, it’s good enough

I’m also noticing that Choco looks way lighter in skin tone compared to Cacao. Like yeah, I know he’s normally slightly lighter, but it’s far more noticeable here. I’m pretty sure it’s because I used Dark Choco’s ToA colors here (bc they work better with my black lineart), which are slightly lighter, as well as just that Dark Choco is wearing much lighter colors while Dark Cacao’s are relatively darker. So maybe it just makes them contrast more

I liked drawing them, but I also did basically do the same body type 3 in a row, so I should probably draw different characters

Anyways, let’s talk about that extra sketch

So for those who likely don’t remember, that there is an OC of mine called Prickly Pear Cookie

I made her entirely on a whim one day, and she doesn’t really have any character or story, just vibes, but I really like her design and wanted to draw it again

I probably should give her some sort of bra though. The shirtless chest looks cool but in my opinion sounds really uncomfortable without at least that

I did originally draw her with the green skin, but it looked weird so I shifted it to more of a yellow so it looks more human

Honestly I really like how she turned out

But yeah, I think that’s about it for now. Just wanted to show this

[modanisgf]

002. HESISTATING

prev | next | masterlist

wc: <1k

if you told haerin only an hour ago that she would be going to the girls basketball practice after school, she would call you insane. she wasn’t even sure right now why she was there, agreeing to something danielle said earlier on impulse.

haerin had walked down the hallway absorbed in her phone, not noticing they were approaching the gym. danielle and aeri opened the doors, the loud nose alarming haerin.

“why are we here?” haerin questioned, receiving confused glances from the two in front of her.

“we’re here to monitor over the girls basketball practice, we wanna see how we need to divide funding this month. i thought dani told you?” aeri said.

“are you serious..” haerin mumbled, ignoring the head shake danielle gave her.

“maybe you should start listening to what i say haerin.” danielle says, sighing.

“you talked to me while i was drafting funding for prom.” haerin deadpans.

“okay well, i needed you to come. i knew you weren’t gonna say yes cause of yn..” danielle says, mumbling the last part.

“she’s practicing right now?!”

“look haerin you’ll be fine, i don’t even get why you hate the girl she’s really nice.” aeri shrugs, “plus you have to be here, you are the treasurer.”

“you’re just saying that cause she’s yizhuo’s friend.” haerin says.

“i’m not..” aeri says, sighing.

“anyways, let’s go in!” danielle says, entering the gym with aeri following.

haerin hesitated to follow her friends, but soon went in picking up her pace in order to catch up with them. she ignored the eyes she felt staring at her, keeping her eyes trained on in front of her.

the trio took a seat in the stands together, them being the last to enter allowing the practice to commence. the practice had a smooth start up, each player working on their shooting first.

unfortunately for haerin, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. the way you played was so smooth and satisfying to watch, resulting you being the star player. you made every shot look easy, and even analyzed your teammates forms to provide feedback.

it was one of the many things kang haerin hated about you, you were extremely good at what you did, years of practice and experience contributing to it. haerin still remembered when she would call you up, only for you to tell her the same thing everytime she asked to hang out.

‘i’m practicing.’

the sentence rang in her head whenever she thought about you, reminding her of how you never set aside time for her.

haerin refocused on watching your team play, trying not to reminisce on the past. she felt her eyes roll when she saw you and ningning cheer each other on, the two of you making the most baskets.

danielle and aeri were talking silently, the conversation now registering in haerin’s brain.

“they’re really good.” danielle states, aeri nodding.

“what do you think haerin?” aeri asks, looking at the girl next to her.

“i agree with danielle, it looks like they’ve been practicing a lot.” haerin says, aeri nodding again.

“so far so good.”

the practice continued smoothly, mainly consisting of you and ningning excelling in each category. little did haerin know, you were trying to get her attention. you never tried this hard in practice, it resulting in you getting pulled over by one of your teammates.

“who’s in the crowd that your trying to impress?” rei asks.

“no one.” you start, “just trying to work harder this season.”

rei just dismissed the conversation, knowing you were lying. she’d probably find out soon, your friends not being the best at keeping secrets.

the practice finally came to a close, the three girls in the stands finalizing their decisions on the budget. haerin wrote all of it down, putting the paper in her binder after.

they all left the gym quickly after that, aeri leaving first leaving haerin and danielle.

“i saw you.” danielle says ominously.

“huh?”

“looking at yn.”

haerin froze, not knowing what to even say to her.

“the way she plays is just satisfying, there was nothing else to it.” haerin says, receiving a unconvinced look from dani.

“you want her so bad.”

“no i don’t?!”

TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN) — @jayjj7 @saysirhc @sixflame438 @ajjilhan @amourjins @isither @sserajeans @greenniee @isabbellle @gayforalll @leeohknows @airice @yeetaberry127 @l0l44444 @inosfavgf @emphobics @edamboon @s3mz @newhairnewjeans @xen248 @nooneissheree @wintersgff @haechansbbg @gtfoiydlyj

— if your name is red i can’t tag!

[vampiricgf]

FICS 4 GAZA 🍉

hi everyone! im going to be participating in @ficsforgaza fundraising initiative so please consider reading and donating! i will be participating in their wip sponsorship

I don't have a ton of wips but you can find a complete list of them below with details on what I have written/outlined so far. whenever a wip is completed I'll be taking it down, possibly adding new ones when space is available, ect.

in order to participate please send me an ask with a screenshot of your proof of donation and include the name of the wip you'd like me to contribute to. for every $1 dollar donated to a verified fundraiser I'll be adding 100 words, so $1 = 100 words. my limit is $10 for 1k word additions until completion

for a more in depth explanation please visit the ficsforgaza blog and make sure you read through their linked posts on their pinned carefully as they contain a lot of very thorough info and they have a list of frequently asked questions

remember you are not donating to me personally, all donations are going towards verified fundraisers! There are links in the ficsforgaza blog that will direct you to verified fundraisers you can donate to!

— AVAILABLE WIPS

⤷ tattoo artist satoru x f!reader | nsfw. reader initially wants a lil tattoo but reconsiders after meeting the artist, maybe a big back piece is just the thing if it means spending more time together

⤷ jealous frat boy satoru x f!reader | nsfw. set in universe with my other frat boy au fics n drabbles. what he does when jealousy gets to his head surrounding you

⤷ romeo and juliet retelling ft. satoru and f!reader (the one millionth romeo n juliet fic ik)

⤷ swan in love | satoru x f!reader. nsfw. age gap relationship with inappropriate power imbalance. dark content. pt 2 of nymphomania.

⤷ in the house of hunger | vampire satoru x f!reader. possibly nsfw. heavily dracula inspired

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hi,

could you write a one-shot , where the female reader is an FBI student (one of Will‘s)and due to Will being sick, Hannibal takes over and that‘s how they met for the first time. The reader then get‘s called into the field and needs a psych. evaluation done by Dr.Lecter. A few months later they are together abd remember how they first met.(with smut?)

Hannibal X Reader: Tender beginnings

Warnings: smut, fluff, domish Hannibal (not really though), kissing, pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetration ( p in v), no use of y/n

Word count: 1,7K

“Will you are never going to believe what i-oh.” 

You stopped mid sentence eyes falling on a strange figure. You look at the sign by the door thinking perhaps you’ve entered the wrong class room but upon further evaluation you were in the right place. The only thing missing was Will. The stranger turned to look at you.

“One of Wills' students I presume.”

“Yes and you are?”

“Hannibal Lecter. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

You took Hannibal's hand giving it a shake.

“Is Will okay?”

“Yes he’s fine. Recovering from a small flu. He should be back on his feet in no time.”

“You’re filling in for him?”

“Yes, I'll be taking over for him this week.”

“You might have a tough time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Wills one hell of a teacher. Not so sure you can live up to him.”

He should have been offended by your words but he could see you were just being coy. And he’d only just met you there was still time to prove you wrong. As much as you adored Will, you had to admit Hannibal was a good teacher. He made it through the week with little issue. On the last day of his class you stayed a bit longer, wanting to talk to him before he left.

“You proved me wrong.”

Hannibal smiled to himself before turning to face you.

“Did I please you?”

“Eh you were alright.”

You gave him a coy smile, a silent way of telling him you were only teasing. 

“It was nice meeting you Hannibal Lecter. Maybe I'll see you around?”

“Maybe you will.”

You had no idea how right you had been with your prediction of meeting Hannibal again. A couple of months after he filled in for Will you were given the official welcome in the FBI. Becoming an agent meant a lot of things and one of them included having a steady mind. So you were asked to have a psych evaluation done, a last step into your journey to become an agent. 

And who would be your psychiatrist? 

Well none other than Hannibal Lecter.

“Seems fate keeps pulling me towards you.”

“Perhaps it’s merely because you and i both work for the FBI”

“Maybe. But they could have sent me to other psychiatrists. Yet here I am. I’d say fate doesn't seem that far off.”

Hannibal shook his head, gesturing for you to take a seat.  You’d done psych evaluations before, they were mandatory for you to begin your training, but this one felt different. Hannibal seemed to ask you questions that didn’t have a lot to do with your state of mind and more to do with you as a person. Maybe that was the moment you should have realized his interest in you but you remained oblivious until he, very directly, asked for your number.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

You turned your head to look at Hannibal. He was laying on the bed the book he’d been reading moments ago rested on his lap. 

“Just remembering how we met.”

Hannibal got up from the bed moving over to the vanity you were sitting in. He placed his hands on your shoulder giving a kiss to the top of your head. You looked at him through the mirror observing as his reflection smiled down at you.

“What did you first notice about me?”

“Your confidence.”

“Come on Hannibal, I'm being serious.”

“So am i. You never notice it but the way you walk into the room shows everyone who sees you just how strong you are. It’s one of the things that captivated me about you.”

You turn your body in your seat, allowing you to face Hannibal. He moved his hand to cup your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek. Your reach forward Wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his stomach. 

“You really mean it?”

“Of course I do, dear.”

You hum against Hannibal's skin, your hands moving against his back in circles. Your brows furrow as you think and Hannibal notices immediately. His finger moves to caress the line in between your brows causing you to snicker before gazing up at him lovingly.

“Can you imagine if Will had never gotten the flu? I would have never met you.”

“That's not true.”

“Of course it is Hannibal. If we hadn’t met in that class room you probably wouldn’t have asked for my number and we wouldn’t be together.”

“But we are together dear.”

“I know. I just can’t help thinking about it. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“You will never have to. I’m right here. Let me prove it to you.”

Hannibal Moved his hands underneath your armpits, lifting you off the chair with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to his body as he walked over to the bed. He placed you in the bed gently. You watched him sink to his knees, his hand moving to grip your ankles. He gave your body a tug, forcing you to move closer to the edge of the bed. You leaned up on your elbows, eyeing Hannibal for a moment. He felt your gaze on him causing his eyes to find yours.

“Lay down dear. Relax while I taste you.”

You knew better than to deny Hannibal the pleasure of tasting you. He enjoyed eating you out just as much as you did. You settled against the silk sheets, closing your eyes. Hannibal widened your legs, moving the shirt you used as pajamas up until your bare body was revealed to him. You usually slept without underwear and this time was no different. Hannibal stared at your pussy, taking in the sight before inching his finger closer. You body jolted up as you felt him play with your folds. A small moan escaped your lips as he continued to toy with you for a moment. His hands caressed your thighs as he inched his face closer to your pussy. 

Your hands latched onto Hannibal's hair as his face finally came into contact with your body. His tongue moved over your folds slowly. He always liked going slow when it came to you. He would only move at a rougher or more rapid pace if you asked him. His tongue entered your core, causing you to shudder at the feeling. Hannibal lapped at your pussy for a while before adding his fingers into the mix. You let out a moan as his fingers plunged into you.

“Oh Hannibal! Yes there right there-fuck…”

His lips moved to suck on your clit as his fingers continued to move against you. Your hands clawed at the sheets as you felt your orgasm creep up on you. With every moan you let out the quicker Hannibal moved his fingers inside you until finally your body couldn’t take it anymore. You came onto Hannibals face with a scream of his name, your hands flexing against the bed before finally relaxing. Hannibal moved back, resting on his knees for a moment as he observed you come down from your high. You put your finger out, motioning for him to come to you. He did as you requested, his body moving to crawl on top of you until you were face to face. His face glistened with your juices. You leaned forward licking his chin before tugging him into a needy kiss. 

You could feel Hannibal’s hard-on nudge against your bare skin. You placed your hand on his chest, guiding it down until you felt his dick in your hand. You gave him a cheeky smile, biting your lip as you caressed him through his boxers. Hannibal grunted, his nose scrunching as his desire for you grew. You moved to whisper against his ear.

“I think I still need you to prove to me your mine.”

Hannibal laughed at your words, leaning his head against yours.

“Gladly dear.”

You watched him move off the bed, removing his boxers before climbing back on top of you. He placed his hands on your legs, lifting them up so that your knees were bent. You widen your legs for him, making it easier for him to line his dick up with your pussy. Your mouth opened in a silent moan as he sunk into you slowly. You could hear the deep breath he took as he bottomed out. Hannibal grabbed your wrists, forcing your hands to move above your head. 

“You ready for me?”

All you could do was nod for him, the feeling of fullness he gave you turning your mind to mush. He moved forwards with one sharp thrust waiting for a moment before removing his dick almost entirely and plunging back into you. You squealed as he fucked into you, desperately trying to grab onto his body but the grip he had on your wrists stopped you.

“Behave. Or I won't make you cum.”

You stopped squirming at Hannibal's words. You knew he was all talk but you couldn't help but do as he said. He rewarded you for your good behavior of course, his hips moving faster against you. The bed cracked as Hannibal continued his movements. Your legs wove against his waist, trying to get him closer to you. 

“Hannibal, I'm close. I- ah- shit!”

“Come on dear, cum for me.”

You gushed onto Hannibal's dick, your walls clenching around him. He released your wrist, his hand moving to grip the bed frame for better leverage. Your body moved as he began to roughly thrust into you. Overstimulation started to get to you but before it started to get too bad Hannibal's orgasm washed over him. His body sagged into yours, his weight falling onto your body. You enjoyed the feeling, it reminded you he was real. He nuzzled his nose into your collarbone placing a kiss there before rolling off you. The two of you lay in silence for a moment. You felt Hannibal's hand around you, tugging your body closer to his. You snuggled up against his frame, moving to place a kiss to his cheek.

“Promise you’ll always be mine?”

Hannibal stroked your hair as he looked at you lovingly.

“I swear.”

[the-peak-tmnt]

I want to say that I like that your fic is mostly Raph centric because those fics are rare and he deserves more love and pain lol

Raph: Mom says it's my turn with the trauma

Thank you so much! I'm seriously so grateful for people who are willing to give a Raph-centric fic a shot!

I knew writing Raph-centric fic that's also a Mutant Mayhem fic was gonna turn a lot of people off from giving it a try, which I totally understand because I usually go for Leo-centric fics myself lol. It also doesn't help that Mutant Mayhem still isn't super popular.

But Mutant Mayhem Raph is an exciting new version of Raph that's been SO fun to explore, and I'm gonna go on a little rant about why I'm enjoying writing (and torturing) him so much!

[Initiating Raph Rant] So, almost all Raphs are tough guys who also wear their hearts on their sleeves, which is what makes him such a fun character. He's "the angry one", but usually also super emotional in other ways:

Because MM feels more like an actual teenager than most other iterations, his moments of emotional vulnerability feel particularly raw and relatable. I might be old as dirt now, but I do still remember what it was like to be a teenager still trying to figure out who they were and what they wanted in life.

Mutant Mayhem does such an amazing job of hitting on those teenage insecurities and desires. The turtles whole goal in the movie is to be accepted. All teenagers feel like outsiders and want acceptance at some point. That teenage desire for acceptance is amplified for the turtles because they're not just teenagers, but mutants as well. The moment where Raph's voice sort of wavers as he says "we're never gonna be normal" breaks my heart every time, because they're so sure acceptance is completely out of reach for them 😭

...but the MM boys do get acceptance by the human world by the end of the film. Raph even seems to find his place own at Eastman on the wrestling team in the post-credit scene.

I think this is what has turned a lot of fans off MM, though, because the turtles' need for secrecy and using their ninja skills to remain hidden has always been an integral part of the TMNT franchise. Personally, I actually love that departure from the typical TMNT format and talked about it once before.

But there are some traditional TMNT elements that I did miss in MM, one of those being the fact that in most iterations, Raph is an outsider even amongst outsiders. His anger is what alienates him from his brothers at times, and it often gets him into trouble. It’s also what almost always leads to his friendship with Casey (another outsider).

Tales of the TMNT isn't out yet, and we don't how this series will give Raph that traditional outsider treatment, or if it will at all. They could save it for Mutant Mayhem 2, but that's still years away. And even then they might decide not to go that route because so far, MM Raph's rage has mostly just manifested in a propensity for fighting & violence rather than interpersonal issues with his brothers & other people. His rage is even framed as useful in the final fight against Superfly.

So anyway...as canon stands right now pre-tottmnt/MM 2, Raph is an "insider". He and his brothers can have a life on the surface, and Raph even seems to have found his own place at Eastman on the wrestling team. Again, I'm all for this happy ending and a brand new experience for the turtles, but I was also missing my personal favorite flavor of Raph...which is angry and alienated lol.

After I saw MM in theaters, I started looking at a lot of the concept art and other production material floating around on the internet and I came across this concept art by Garrett Lee:

And it was like "oh shit, there he is! Outsider Raph!"

He looks so lonely and separate from everyone else here, and I was obsessed with this idea of Raph somehow still being an outsider even after the mutants were accepted by humans. But again, we're still waiting for tottmnt and MM 2, and even then there's no guarantee we'll get an Angry & Sad Outsider Raph out of either of those.

So I asked myself "how can I ruin MM Raph's life so that he's as lonely and miserable as he looks in this concept art???"

...and Reciprocity was born 😅

[shakespearean-dream]

TW!!! — blood, scarring and mild body horror ahead 🥲

benny’s turn!

before i start i wanna clarify i hesitated a bit on posting this because lovely mutual @vor-leser just posted his benny interpretation (go look at it and follow him btw), and idk if we like mind melded or smth but our human benny’s are super similar LOL. i damn near scrapped the whole thing out of fear someone would get mad at me but i Would Not be able to start over and get this done ever so this is as good as we’re gonna get. 😭 my apologies niko love u /p

this has been like a full 7 days in the making 😭😭 the art block that i felt coming on while doing ellen and ted hit me like an optimus prime sized semi truck this week along with a depressive episode so i definitely appreciate that happening and i am not upset about it at all! /s i’m totally good so don’t worry or anything /gen, mental health is just weird and i also wanted to explain the gap in my posts 😔

i do not know how to feel about this drawing if i’m so fr with you; i’m proud of myself for AM-ified benny cause i think i got the slowly rotting from the inside out primal freak energy down pretty good, but on the other hand this feels kinda empty?? i usually have a lot more commentary squished in here but i think my brain’s a little fried 🤦‍♂️ i love drawing me some beautiful buff men though so drawing normal ben was familiar territory. however his wack ass haircut i gave him is his punishment for being a PRICK!!! go sit in the corner and think about ur actions benjamin.

like ted n the rest of the sillies i’m not straying too far from canon with his personality, he’s an ass and a murderer and a hella smart dickhead who desperately needs to be punished by the universe (thank you for that one AM). hot take i did not like his “redemption arc” in his game scenario and i don’t think with how he was throughout the entirety of his life (and also throughout the game, main example his inner dialogue) he would actually go out of his way to help the kid because he means it??? n prove he changed to the guys he killed cause he means it??? i dunno maybe AM torturing him made him have a main character “omg i’ve been in the wrong this whole time!!1” moment like the game suggests i’m just not buying it 💀 i’m sure it’s just cause bennys scenario couldn’t be too long and they couldn’t fully flesh him out which i won’t fault the game makers for. i’m a steven universe fan, i know what time constrictions can do to a plot and redemption arc 😭 looking at you white diamond…

his wife n kids are up top and they’re kinda neat to me— i was considering the hc that part of the reason manya (his canon wife) left him is because she realized she was a lesbian which would be funny as fuck considering benny’s also One Of Them Queers 😭. i think during the brief times he was home and able to parent his daughters they got really scared and tired of him, one because he’s just a very threatening powerful and overbearing man, but also because i feel like he would’ve been on their ASS about everything. grades, extracurriculars, friends, wardrobe, this guy was micromanaging his family to an annoying extreme (ofc because of his perfectionist complex). he probably loved manya and the kids in his own weird way, but it was more contractual to him than any real personal relationship. maybe he inherited that from his own parents?? i doubt he ever talked to them after he moved out.

that’s about the end of my thoughts on this fucker. 🥲 funny storyyyy i just remembered i have laundry to finish so im gonna go do that, lord help me. thank you for reading all this if you did!!!!! we’re over halfway through so who do yall want next? wanna save AM or nimdok for last? i’ll see u guys later :]]]

[666writingcafe]

Quick Strategy

After hiding in a side corridor and giving the spider the slip, I'm able to properly assess everyone's emotions. I'm more or less calm, Asmo's freaking out, Lucifer's over it, and MC...

For once, I can't read them.

"We need to figure out a way to soothe this beast," Lucifer remarks quietly. "Otherwise, we're not getting out of here alive."

"And how are we supposed to do that?!" Asmo exclaims, causing MC to hush him for being too loud. "We don't have anything at our disposal!"

"That's not entirely true," MC replies.

"What do you even mean, Zephyr? Of course it's true!"

"Your charm. It's tied to your demonic power."

"But I've never charmed an animal! At least, not on purpose! Besides, I've not dealt with something this huge before. I don't think I'm powerful enough to stop a giant spider in its tracks."

"Maybe not on your own, but if your power is combined with someone else's, then you'll be able to calm this spider down, and we can go home." Is MC doing what I think they're doing?

"How do we go about doing that?" Lucifer sighs.

"Unfortunately, the quickest and most painless way would be for you to make a pact with Solomon," he answers. "From what I've heard, he's powerful enough to draw out and enhance your demonic power." I never thought I'd see the day. Lucifer actually agreeing with me about pacts?

Granted, he's not the one getting one from me, but still. He's made it clear many times before that he doesn't want my magic anywhere near him or his brothers.

"But don't feel like you have to if you don't want to," MC quickly adds. "It's very difficult to undo a pact with someone, so you need to be completely sure that you want it before getting one."

Okay, now I'm confused. Surely MC remembers the situation with the snake, right? That's why they brought up his charm in the first place, isn't it?

"In this particular situation, however, it is the most viable option. You'd still be able to keep some autonomy this way, and that won't be possible if you choose me or Zephyr."

"Quit forcing the issue, Lucifer."

Oh. I get it. MC's still pissed that Asmo got manipulated into making a pact with me.

But I'm not the one pulling strings this time, which makes their objection that much more baffling. They seem to be bumping heads with Lucifer a lot more frequently in this timeline, and I have no idea why. Is it related to a power struggle that I don't know about, or is it something else entirely?

"Zephyr, believe me, I'm not a big fan of the idea. I don't trust Solomon as far as I can throw him, and I have no doubt in my mind that he's going to abuse this pact with my brother." Wow, Lucifer. I'm standing right here. "However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I don't know about you, but I'd really like to not become that spider's lunch."

"What's this about keeping my autonomy?" Asmo asks. MC diverts their attention away from Lucifer and answers,

"A pact between a human and a demon works both ways. He has the ability to control you, but you can also do the same to him if the mood strikes you."

"How interesting..." Asmo's deep in thought. Now's my chance.

"If we make this pact, I promise I will do anything you ask me to," I quietly tell him, causing his eyes to light up.

"Anything?" I nod. "You'll actually allow me to charm you into submission whenever I please?"

"Yes." I know MC probably thinks I'm lying, but the truth is, I've already agreed to this arrangement with him. Initially, it was proposed as payback for me taking advantage of him while he was drunk.

But as time's passed, I've actually come to like having Asmo controlling me occasionally. It's a nice way to shut my brain up for a bit and allows me to genuinely relax. No thoughts; just Asmodeus.

The Avatar of Lust smiles as I hear something scuttling across the floor.

"Then let's make it official. I'll make a pact with you, Solomon."

"Better make it quick, because I think our spider friend's returned," MC warns us.

Thankfully, I know how to do exactly that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch

[satureja13]

The next day. While Saiwa still tries to convince Jack that it's not possible to throw Greg in the dungeons of the castle without proper evidence and investigations, they suddenly heard an alarm going off ö.ö

Jeb: "Jack, Kiyoshi - quick! Let's get out of here!"

It wasn't hard to locate the source of the noise, it came from their TTT (Teleporting TukTuk)! They turned the alarm off. Despite the lock on its wheel, it must have moved out of the garage by itself.

Saiwa: "But why the alarm?" Vlad checked his calendar: "Erm, I guess over Jack's death, we've forgotten that it's Summer Solstice today..." Saiwa: "What? Already one and a half month have passed since then?" Time flies! And they'd already forgotten Beltane, the last festival in the wheel of the year... Today is the beginning of summer and the longest day of the year. Until Winter Solstice on December 21, the days are getting shorter again from tomorrow on.

Jack: "Maybe it wants us to board and it'll take us somewhere, like last time at Beltane when we found ourselves at Tartosa..." And so they squeezed themselves into the tiny teleporting TukTuk... Puppy Jack is already excited, as always: "I wonder where we are going this time!"

The TTT ported them away from Tomarang through the Otherworld... Well, this place looks familiar. It's Henford! Where Sai, Jack, Vlad and Ji Ho had spent their first weekend trip together almost two years ago! And where Jeb showed up and we saw his face for the first time (that was before he joined them).

But it's also the place where Jack's Heidi nightmare took place. Which lead to his breakdown - and his breakup with Kiyoshi... and the beginning of his pain. Saiwa: "Are you ok, Jack? Come, let's leave again." Jack: "What? No! It's Summer Solstice! We should celebrate. I'm fine. We deserve a little time out. Remember? The old Jack is dead and the new, better Jack is going to prosper!" Sometimes Saiwa wishes he had a tiny bit of Jack's optimism. How can he be so positive to be able to vercome his hardships after he wanted to throw Greg in the dungeons just a few minutes ago? Saiwa sighed. (This actually happened to me a few years ago. I had been working so hard on myself to overcome my hardships and prosper. I'd thought I'd come so far already and I had been utterly sure I'd made huge steps. But then something happened that showed me I wasn't as stable as I thought I was and it threw me back so far omg. Let's hope Jack will do better than me - with a little help of his friends.)

Also, Jack never forgot that Vlad wanted to come back to Henford with Ji Ho. That had been one of his last wishes before he died (after he drank Ji Ho's poisonous blood to claim him back from Genji...) So leaving is not an option for Jack. Everything happens for a reason.

Sai was not completely convinced that Jack is really ok but the show must go on: "Well then - let's change into something comfortable and hope that TTT brought some stuff with him."

And since they are in the Otherworld and the TTT is a magical vehicle, there was actually a lot the tiny TukTuk brought with him - and to set up :3 There is even a tent that looks like Barfolomews holy Star Wars tent Jack had destroyed on their weekend trip (Ji Ho worked at the Diner de los Muertos to pay for the repair - where he met Luci...) Of course Vlad and Jack will sleep in the Star Wars tent. And Kiyoshi and Jeb will share a tent (Kiyoshi is still not back to his old self since he came back after spending decades in the tree / becoming a diety) and Saiwa and Ji Ho the other. Even the Little Goats joined them!

Saiwa is worried about Jack, no matter how much he claims to be ok. Jack is Saiwa's oldest friend, he'll talk to him later when everything is set up and the goats and the Boys are fed.

And while the others set up the tents and stuff, Jeb prepared the meals. The sun was just setting when they started to eat. What a wonderful world. They deserve a peaceful festival after all they went through.

'I see skies of blue and clouds of white The bright blessed day the dark sacred night And I think to myself what a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky Are also on the faces of people going by I see friends shaking hands saying, "How do you do?" They're really saying I love you'

Louis Armstrong - What a wonderful World

The way Sai looks at Jeb when he looks in another direction <3

And then his face fell when he looked back at Jack.

When they finished their meal, Sai and walked a bit together. Just until they saw the Mansion from afar. Greg had brought toddler Jack to the Mansion after he rescued him from the Lab and he grew up here with 'Uncle' Stefan (Stefan is not his real Uncle). And here also the worst part of his Heidi Nightmare took place... Saiwa: "Let's leave, we'll find another place, hm?"

Jack: "I won't run away anymore. I've come so far and my pain is almost gone. Maybe I died ingame so I can prove that the therapy works? That I can carry over what I've learned ingame to my real life? It will be painful and hard. And I miss Lou so much. But it will be worth it in the end. I'll start a new life. You will help me, won't you? Push me when I fall back in my old, crazy habits." Sai: "Of course I will help you. I'm just not sure if I can push you. I'm worried you're going too fast."

But then a Summer Solstice Wonder happened! A flock of cute birds were flying in circles around Jack! With sparkles and singing and everything! As if they wanted to reassure him that he's on the right path! Jack: "What? ... See?!" Saiwa: "How did you do that? You are really something else ^^'"

Sai: "I hope I can find a kind of balance between pushing you and keeping you safe. But I'm always there for you. Just talk to me, hm? And we still have Vlad." Jack: "Promised. I love you." Saiwa sighed but he said it anyway: "I know." (Saiwa is not much into Star Wars, that's more a Jack/Vlad thing. But he knows it makes Jack happy when he answers with 'I know' ^^')

to be continued...

The Boys had quite the event on last year's Summer Solstice ö.ö Let's hope this year's is quieter.

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[celestie0]

binge read kickoff and I’m sooooo obsessed with it. >.< manifesting someone like Satoru. This might seem dumb but I’m just curious to know what satoru’s friends (Suguru, nanami etc) think of reader?

but anywayyy, thank you for this amazing story and have a great day! :)

hiiii my darling omg i'm so happy you've enjoyed kickoff so far!! it means sm to me :''')

omg not dumb at all i would love to answer this!! i think i answered a similar question to this before but i can't remember what i said xD so we'll start fresh haha i mean it's been a while anyway

suguru: oh yes i also got an ask that was wondering if kickoff suguru has feelings for reader or was romantically interested in her since he seems to be a lil flirty sometimes haha but no i think he's just naturally flirty LOL. he's definitely aware of gojo's feelings for her even tho gojo never told him that or anything, i'd like to think he knew gojo had feelings before even gojo knew SDKJFHSDKJF. but yea anywho he def thinks reader is cool n is kinda different from the girls he's used to seeing in gojo's company n i think that's also why he's intrigued by her bc he's like what's up w this girl that she's got my best friend glancing over at the sidelines every two seconds during practice LMFAO. tbh i can see kickoff suguru n kickoff reader being really great friends, they kinda have similar personalities :)

nanami: he has hella respect for her because he likes people who have a craft or a skill that they're passionate about lol. especially if it's something niche, so he thinks that reader knowing a lot about photography n has really fancy cameras etc is really cool. he's mostly indifferent/disinterested in what she has to do w gojo, he doesn't really care about their status of are they friends? are they dating? sorts of stuff, but i'd like to think he pulls her aside sometimes to ask her questions about her camera specs just cause he wants to learn more about it

choso: pls kickoff choso is soooooooo go with the flow, two braincells, smooth brained, slightly grumpy, chronically tired but very sweet hearted in my head. tbh i don't even think he knows reader's name n i'm p sure he's mistaken her as being three different people bc he just cannot cognitively retain faces for the life of him LMFAO. yea he was mostly indifferent n i'm ngl reader was probs invisible to him for the most part BUT when he saw her slap the shit out of ren at the bar he was like :0 god damn that girl's sick. and now his interest has been piqued n he’s like 80% sure he knows her name now. omg i feel like kickoff choso n reader would not get along for some reason skdfhsdflk choso's nonchalant cynicism would clash w reader's anxious optimism

other players on the team: they all are just really hoping that she's getting their good angles when she's takin her snapshots HAHAH. i'd like to think some of them be mewing on the field 💀💀

coach yaga: “STOP DISTRACTING MY STAR PLAYER!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED HIS EYES ON THE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

LOL hope this answers bb <3

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 4/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: talking about the details of your arrangement with Kiyoomi word count. 2.4k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, suggestive a/n. it's here!! the marriage is happening!!(＞0＜；；；) Masterlist

When you step inside your apartment, your heart starts to pound hard. The full realization dawns on you quickly. The fuck. You can't be like this. You fan your face, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. You kind of feel like screaming. “You can't be like this,” you repeat the words loudly to yourself.

Why do you feel this way, though? You despise yourself for it. Maybe the idea of tying the knot with someone is really getting to you. You walk to your kitchen and gulp down some cold water to hydrate your throat. You need to be logical about this. Gosh, you need your best friend, Tami, right now. But she’s probably asleep already; it’s almost 1 am. So, you send some urgent texts to her, telling her that you’ll meet Sakusa tomorrow. You also send her a message that says something like, “The marriage plan is happening!! I’m gonna make a list of things that I need to discuss w him. Please give me ideas for some important topics!:( Love u.” You know your best friend can at least give you some pointers, especially since she's been married for four years.

You start to clean yourself up, changing your clothes, removing your makeup, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing a quick skincare routine. Now that you’re more comfortable, you might think more clearly. You check the time on your phone and lie down on your bed. Okay. You’ll make a few points yourself first.

You try to think hard, but nothing substantial comes up. So, you search for it on Google. You click on some articles and jot down notes in your notes app. You can't write much because you find some topics aren't relatable to your situation. Some of them are too real couple things. For example: "How to spend the right time together?" or "What happens if you feel like you’re drifting apart?" type of questions. That’s totally not relatable, right? A few topics that you’ve written down are: finances (how will you split the bill?), where you will live, personal space, and how you will divide the chores. Before you know it, your eyes start to close as you drift off to sleep.

When you wake up, it's because of the constant vibration from your phone. You check it and see that it’s still around 7 am. The vibration is from Tami’s texts. You quickly check her responses.

She lists a few topics, some of which are already written in your notes app. Then, there are some you haven't listed before:

1. Who is allowed to know about this pact? Damn, she’s right. You'll need to create your version of a love story either way.

2. How would this marriage be? Can each of you date other people, or do you want to be exclusive? Oh. Right. You’ve thought about this before, too. This is important.

3. The wedding. How big should it be? Yup, you still need to talk about this.

4. Physical intimacy? (P.S. Please talk about this, girl! You’re stupid if you’re not getting that dick) 

You roll your eyes. This is so her. But then you start to reflect on yourself. Sex? Of course, you're no virgin. You’re sure he’s not either. But, to be honest, you can’t really remember the last time you had sex. Damn! You think it was years ago with your last situationship. Yes, you’ve had your share of one-night stands, but that was in your early 20s. You just know that those kinds of activities are not that safe. Not that you judge anyone who does it, but for you, you usually do it with someone you trust pretty well. And there aren't a lot of men that you can trust to do that. Plus, the act is often disappointing. So, sex isn’t your top priority nowadays. Yes, you have your needs, but you could always take care of yourself. So far, so good. It’s manageable. You’re not sure how to bring this topic up to Kiyoomi, though. It feels wrong too to imagine stuff like that with him. You huff. You won't bring this up.

5. Children? Hmm, you haven’t really thought about this topic. 

Do you want children? Yes, you do, but it's not like you really want them. You guess it’s just because of an image of a perfect family you had in your head since you were little. This discussion will also complicate some financial topics. And you don’t know whether Kiyoomi wants children or not. So, you might skip this part. This is not something you considered when agreeing to this anyway.

6. Deal breakers? You can’t really think of what this would relate to in your relationship right now. Since there’s no romance involved, right? You might as well skip this part.

You type your thanks profusely to Tami and then start your Sunday morning by snacking on your energy bar. You'll have your breakfast with Sakusa. Then, you take a shower and get ready. After you finish getting ready, you check your phone and see some messages from Sakusa saying he’s on his way to your apartment. His trip to your place usually takes about 20 minutes. So, you sit on your couch and continue watching the series you haven’t finished.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrates. It's a text from Sakusa saying he’s arrived. You quickly respond and make your way downstairs. Spotting his car, you knock on the passenger seat window. He opens the door, and you slide in.

"Hey," you greet him.

"Hey," he replies. "Where do you want to eat?"

You suggest a restaurant not too far from your apartment that serves good avocado toast and truffle mushroom benedict. He agrees and starts to drive there.

As he drives, you take a moment to look at him. He's wearing a dark green corduroy jacket over a white shirt and black shorts. He’s not wearing his mask, but you notice the mask box between your seats. He smells good, a pleasant combination of his shampoo, soap, and cologne. He always smells good, you realize.

The car ride is quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that feels natural rather than awkward. As you approach the restaurant, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness about the conversation that awaits.

As soon as you arrive, both of you order avocado toast and coffee. You finish your breakfast first, then you start the discussion. “So? Where do we start from here? Do you have anything in mind?” you ask.

Sakusa nods. “I do. Do you?”

“Yes,” you reply. Then you start to run through your list. For the financial topics, Sakusa insists on paying all the bills related to your living place: housing, electricity, and water. But you're confused. “Then, what should I pay for?” you ask.

“Some of the groceries, I guess.” Sakusa replies.

“What? No. I can’t. At least let me pay for the water or something, too?” you protest.

“Please. Just let me pay for that,” he insists.

You have never seen him plead before, but seeing his face now, you think this might be as close to pleading as he gets. “I’ve told you, you can leave some of your jobs if you’d like. It’s better for your health, too, I guess…” you can hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You're silent for a moment but then accept his offer, albeit reluctantly. Maybe you should try to relax a bit more. Isn't that one of the perks of this marriage pact? You then move to the next part, which is the living place. He suggests you move into his apartment, and you think it's more reasonable since he has three rooms in his apartment, allowing you to have one as your own room.

“How about personal space?” you ask.

“What about it?” Sakusa responds.

“Do you have a room or place that you won’t allow other people, like me, to enter?”

He’s silent for a bit. “My room.”

You nod your head. You’re no stranger to his need for personal space. In fact, you remember some of his past girlfriends complaining about it. He's the type of person who’s quite rigid about his boundaries. You'll try your best not to cross any of them. You express this concern to him, asking him to please let you know if you ever step over any boundaries. He answers with a simple "okay."

Next, you start to discuss the chores. You both conclude that he’ll be the one who cleans around the house, and you offer to be the chef. You’re not the best cook, but you’re also not bad. You'll do this since you'll have more spare time after letting go of some of your side jobs. Laundry will be done alternately each week.

Then, you start to discuss the topic list that Tami has given you. You both agree that the only ones who will know about this pact are the two of you, Komori, and Tami. You already told him that you shared this with her, and he’s understanding about that. He tells you that he already informed Komori about this plan as well. You’re a bit surprised, wondering whether Komori has known since the New Year party or before that. If he knew, he seemed nonchalant about it. But, he will definitely tease you about this.

The love story for both of you will be simple. You know each other since high school, secretly liked each other, and have been secretly dating for a year before deciding to get married. That’s just perfect. Your parents also know each other, and your mom has teased you about him before. Quite early in your friendship, even though you clearly stated to her that you considered him just a friend. Well, she might be quite shocked and cocky, having her “I told you so” moment upon hearing this wedding news. It’s okay; you’ll just have to deal with it for a bit.

You then mention the wedding and tell him that you actually want to have an intimate one. He agrees and chimes in that he needs to inform his manager as well since there will likely be some media coverage for an athlete's wedding. You nod, remembering Komori’s wedding. You hope there will be no big commotion from the public. You know he has some persistent fangirls and just hope they won’t give you threats or anything. Fingers crossed, you sigh. This is for Kiyoomi’s benefit too. You remember he always says he struggles with rejecting gifts and random confessions; maybe this marriage will reduce those kinds of things.

“How would this marriage be? Can each of us date another person, or do we want to be exclusive?” you read from your notes. He stares at you. “I think it’s up to you.”

You nod at his statement, understanding that it’s also up to him. It’s reasonable. Why would this marriage stop him from getting any girl he wants? You don’t know much about his hook-up activities, never inquiring about them either. He’s very private about that. You sigh mentally, feeling a tinge of insecurity, which you think is stupid. You can’t be unfair to him. “Yeah, let’s just be careful about it. We can’t let people know, though. It’ll look bad on us,” you respond, staring down at your phone.

You don’t hear his response and see the notes on your app, deciding to skip some of the topics that you're not sure how to bring up. “Is there anything you want to add?” you ask him.

“Will you take my family name?” he asks.

You think for a moment and nod. “I will.” Then, you start to repeat your name with ‘Sakusa’ in front of it in your head. You kind of want to laugh, thinking that you used to call him by his family name during your early years of friendship. Now, that name will be yours too.

After that, you delve into detailing the aspects of your wedding. You had stated earlier that you wanted an intimate ceremony, so you emphasize making the wedding small and estimating the budget, aiming to keep it as economical as possible and split it 50/50. Sakusa interjects again, insisting he’ll just pay it all. You don’t mind the budget since it’s much cheaper compared to what some of your friends usually spend. You also have enough savings for it. After a bit of disagreement, you settle on an 80/20 split.

Your wedding will be held in mid-February with a garden party theme, which you suggest. All the preparations will be handled by a wedding organizer that you both found together. Sakusa is actually very cooperative, offering to contact the wedding organizer and jotting down some of the information you discuss together on his phone’s notes. You thought he’d be bored with such detailed discussions, but he had even done a lot of research beforehand and gave you insights about the wedding experiences of his relatives and friends. You heard from some of your friends that their partners didn’t really put in the effort and handed it all over to the woman. So, you’re very glad he’s not like that. After all, marriage takes two people to make it work.

You both then decide that everything sounds good and finalize the plans. As you’re about to stand up, he suddenly grabs your hand. You look at him and see him hesitating a bit. 

“What? Is there something wrong?” you ask.

He then pulls you down, prompting you to sit again beside him. You stare at him curiously as his hand moves inside his jacket pocket, taking out something. It’s a box. A ring box! You realize, flabbergasted by his action. Your mouth falls open.

“Wait, wait. What?” you stammer, staring at the navy velvet ring box. 

He proceeds to open it, showing a silver ring. You notice that the ring features a row of detailed Forget-Me-Not flowers running into delicate leaves on either side of the band. You’re totally speechless. You didn’t expect him to give you a ring right now. You thought you could just buy some matching rings together that simply show “Yeah, we’re married.” But this ring in front of you looks expensive as hell.

“I know this kind of marriage is something you never expected. I know this is not something you dreamed of either. But let me make this a bit proper. I want you to have this,” Sakusa says.

You feel like crying, touched by his sentiment. He then slides the ring onto your finger, and you can’t help but thank him and hug him, driven by your emotions. You widen your eyes, taken aback, and mumble a quick apology, afraid that you’ve invaded his personal space or something. But he hugs you back.

It seems like this marriage pact isn’t so bad, after all.

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

You wouldn’t call yourself amazing at reading people’s faces and expressions, at times misinterpreting them, but the certainty on his voice couldn’t be faked. He was so sure of his words, so convinced, so far up in his delusion he genuinely believed it. Or he’s just the greatest actor of all time. No in between.

Chapter 1 < > Chapter 3

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

A blur of faces pervades your mind, some smiling, some screaming, some young, some old, but none of them hold any meaning to you. All mingling together with voices overlapping each other, every single sound like a hammer against your head until they all died out, a ringing taking its place and the face’s changed into a bright white light. 

A teenager, around 16 or 17, a domino mask covering his eyes, and a flashlight dangling over your face, was kneeling next to you, the uncovered part of his face revealing his worry.

“B’s going to kill me.” The teen whispered, eyes widening when you grabbed his hand to put away the flashlight, eyes squinting to get used to the light. “Are you alright?”

“Where am I?” You groaned, turning around in your place to face the floor, hands barely lifting you up, a wave of nausea coming over you, hardly holding it down.

“You’re safe. I promise.” His hands were hovering over your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

“I…” Looking up, the sight in front of you left you speechless, googling everywhere and everything that caught your gaze, recognizing a place you knew too well, despite never being in there—The Batcave. “I…”

Misunderstanding your silence for confusion, the boy asked again. “Do you remember your name?”

“What?”

The bright blue light coming from all the electronic devices made you uneasy, along with the quiet hum of the gadgets, having to dodge once when a goddamned bat flew over your head. Focusing on the kid, you finally took in his appearance; a red, black and yellow suit with a black cape and yellow interior, a vibrant, yellow R on his chest.

Robin.

More specifically, Red Robin. Even more specifically, Tim Drake.

Or well, an incredibly good cosplay. Sure that behind the white lenses of the mask, the eyes were most likely blue.

“Mind if I call you Jane?” The boy —Tim— asked.

“I’m… I’m not…”

“It’s alright. It’s just while you remember your name.” Was this some kind of prank show? It must be, one with an extremely high budget, just taking into consideration the size of the Batcomputer, and the… Was that a dinosaur? And… Is that the giant coin!? “How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy.”

“No wonder.” He stood up, holding a hand towards you. “Jumping from another universe must take a lot on someone. Come, I’ll get you some water.”

Taking his hand, he helped you stand up, your eyes never leaving his face, confusion written all over yours.

“Jumping? Universe?” You muttered more to yourself than anything else, following him towards a small room in the cave where a couple of beds were located, as well as medical equipment next to them and what you could assume where medicine inside the cabinets.

Here, the light had turned warmer, a light-yellow glow emanating from the overhead lights. Tim —or what you would call him until he’d tell you his real name— grabbed a bottled water from a minifridge and handed it to you.

“Where am I?” Eyeing the bottle, you opened it once you made sure it didn’t look as if tampered with. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Red Robin.”

“Your real name.”

“Yeah…” Stopping mid-way while grabbing a bottled for himself, he looked at you over the door of the minifridge, dumbfounded. “I’m not telling a civilian my identity. Even if you’re from another universe. Probably.”

“I’m not—” Cutting yourself, you examined the boy in front of you. His arms were littered with small scars, as well as some on his face, and a bandaged hand had somehow evaded your notice until now.

You wouldn’t call yourself amazing at reading people’s faces and expressions, at times misinterpreting them, but the certainty on his voice couldn’t be faked. He was so sure of his words, so convinced, so far up in his delusion he genuinely believed it.

Or he’s just the greatest actor of all time. No in between.

The need in you to call off on his bullshit was strong, as you didn’t enjoy being taken for a fool, however, on the off chance this kid truly believed he was Tim Drake, you wouldn’t know what he would do once he learned you didn’t want to participate in his game, so in lieu of antagonizing him, you decided to focus on the second part of his answer, hoping that showing trust would give you an opportunity to escape whatever this was.

“What do you mean by ‘another universe’?”

Drinking the last drop on his bottle, he threw it to the other side of the room, landing neatly inside a trash can. You’re not surprised to notice how much he’s gotten into his character.

“Normally, I wouldn’t talk about this with a civilian but… Well, you’re involved, so you have a right to know.” His stance changed in one second, pushing himself from the edge of the minifridge where he was leaning, his hands went to his back, standing straight and walking from one side to the other, as if debriefing with a military superior. “Recently, we came in contact with… Foreign technology, nothing we’ve ever seen before. The Justice League captured everyone, of course, but… Well, one of them hit Batman with that thing.” Following him outside the medbay, he led you to a gun resting on a table, looking exactly like the guns on sci-fi movies, big, vibrant and with tubes going in and out the barrel. “He disappeared.”

Your heart ached for the kid, clearly needing professional attention if he’d convinced himself so bad of being a part of the ‘batfam’ that the mournful look he had was real, as if the real Batman had adopted him and now was missing.

But the bereft way he looked began stirring something on the back of your mind, considering that this might not be a simple delusion.

“So… You think he might be in… ‘My universe’?”

“Yes.” Getting back into ‘Red Robin’ mode, he began tinkering with the gun. “So, from what I’ve seen, this gun utilizes an extremely specific type of energy I haven’t been able to identify, maybe a variation of Zeta Beams? But this part here seems to be some kind of a propulsion system, creating an accelerated wormhole of sorts, linking close world lines…”

“You lost me at the beginning.”

“Sorry.” He said, sheepishly. “Anyway, about you... I need to make a call. Stay here.”

Tim went to the batcomputer, grabbing something from the desk and putting it on his ear. An earpiece, you assumed. In a hushed conversation, he most likely began explaining the situation to whoever was on the other side. Nightwing? Oracle?

Red Hood?

“Not sure… She’s a Jane Doe.” You barely heard him say. However, his words were quickly ignored when a certain display caught your attention.

Your reflection on the glass became harder to spot the closer you got to the display; several suits inside of it. A snicker making its way out your lips once you saw the Discowing suit. But your smile vanished at one specific suit that broke your heart.

Burnt and torn, the last Robin suit Jason had worn before his death.

Or well, the one he would’ve worn had he been real. Nevertheless, it saddened you the fate his character had had due to a simple poll, wondering how he would’ve evolved had the public chosen something different.

Once whatever this is ends, you’ll have to congratulate whoever built the place, no doubt a remarkably dedicated team that must’ve spent months researching even the most miniscule details of the cave.

“I wish things had ended differently.” Whipping your head backwards, you never noticed when he stopped his call, nor since when he had been standing behind you. “I wouldn’t be here today, but... He didn’t deserve it.”

Not knowing what to do, you simply put a hand on his shoulder. This is truly getting out of control. However, before you could say something, a loud sizzling filled the silent cave. A bright blue-ish light to your left caught the attention of both of you.

Where once was a simple circular metal disk, with a long metal post that resembled a giant desk light illuminating it, now there was another guy in a suit, a black and blue suit.

“Nightwing!” Tim cried out, jogging to his side.

“What—?” With uncertain steps, you walked towards them. Examining the device from where ‘Nightwing’ could’ve been hiding. Touching everywhere you could for a hidden door.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.”

“Hello?” Nightwing greeted you, a hand extended, which you slowly shook, still puzzled by how he’d managed to make it seem as if he’d appeared out of thin air. “I’m Nightwing, you’re Jane, right?”

You were in silence for a couple of seconds, mind still processing what you’d seen. Taking the name as a nickname for now, you replied. “Yeah… Sure.”

Just as in every piece of media about him, he had a calming presence and smile that eased all worries, despite not being able to see his eyes, the white lenses more inviting than off-putting.

“I know all this can be a bit confusing, but I can assure you, we’ll get you back home.”

“How…?” You turned towards the device, hands idly wandering the cables and buttons. “What is this?”

“A Zeta-Tube.” You’d vaguely heard the name in some cartoon you saw a couple years ago, not something predominant on everything you’d read or saw. “You don’t have them in your universe?”

“I wish. Would’ve made going to college easier. Effing building was on the other side of the city.”

Nightwing —Dick— chuckled, and both vigilantes left the ‘Zeta-Tube station’ to focus on the screen displayed on the batcomputer.

There was a single file opened, a photo of Batman and the description of what Tim had told you before, nothing else of interest to you.

At some point the idea that this was a very lucid dream had become a possibility, but aren't you not supposed to be able to read in your dreams? You never checked if that was true or not, so with a subtle but sharp pinch to your arm that did not woke you up, you threw that idea out the window.

“Superman and Cyborg are also testing the other equipment they secured, but haven’t had much improvement as you, Little Bird.”

The small, proud smile on Tim warmed your heart. A small, abandoned kid that would light up at the most trivial compliment, having received none for most of, if not all, his childhood.

Alright, you need to stop looking at them as if they were the characters and not probable kidnappers trying to turn you into thinking you were also part of the comics.

“… And Red Hood’s out of planet.” At hearing that name, you continued paying attention. “He should be back in a few days…”

So far, the people dressing up as Tim and Dick were the exact copy of the comics, and if whoever dressed as Jason was the same… Well, you could stay here a couple more days playing pretend.  

[meguwumibear]

A Night Out Dancing

Tomorrow your party will reach JuLai. Tonight Wolfwood wants to dance.

thank you @/firein-thesky for commissioning this piece for the @ficsforgaza collaboration

The sky above No Man’s Land is inky and starless. The air stale and still. Despite the hour, the world around you is oppressively warm and dry. Nights in the desert are usually bitterly cold. You’re not sure what’s gotten into the weather today.

Vash at least doesn’t seem plagued by strange temperature, but then Vash can sleep through anything, including Meryl’s jerky driving, so the comparison isn’t fair. Meryl’s fast asleep too, tucked neatly into the driver’s seat. You watch her toss and turn for a while, wondering what she dreams of. Someplace nice, hopefully. Somewhere lush and flourishing and green.

Even Roberto seems to have found sleep, albeit at the bottom of a bottle. He’s snoring gently in the passenger seat, mouth wide open, empty liquor bottle still clutched tightly in his hands.

Seems everyone’s immune to the hot desert night but you.

There’s a chance it isn’t the heat keeping you up. It’s possible you’re making excuses, blaming the external world around you for your insomnia so you don’t have to turn inward, so you don’t have to confront your building anxieties about what the future holds for your little traveling party. It’s going to crack and splinter apart, isn’t it? Like that land mass you once read about in a book that spoke of some far away planet called Earth. Pangaea. A supercontinent forced apart by shifting tectonic plates.

Tomorrow, you’ll reach JuLai, and everyone will drift away from you. You’ll spend the rest of your life trying to remember what it felt like to be whole.

Fuck it. If you’re not gonna get some shut eye, you may as well make yourself useful.

Wolfwood is perched on a sand dune, resting against his cross shaped gun, lit cigarette in hand, nearly burnt down to the filter. He takes one final drag of it as he sees you approach, then snubs the thing out in the sand.

“I’ll take over the watch,” you tell him, eyes drawn to the little ‘o’ shape his mouth makes as he lazily releases the final dregs of smoke.

“Not your turn yet, sweetheart,” he replies. “Go back to sleep.”

If only you could.

“Haven’t been able to. Too much shit on my mind. No sense in my staring at the back of my eyelids when I could be doing this instead.”

Wolfwood stares at you through tinted shades he hasn’t bothered to remove despite the darkness of the night. The glasses are a part of his costume, of his carefully crafted mask that even after months of travelling together he’s still hiding behind. He told you he’s an undertaker, but he dresses like a priest. On a runaway Sandsteamer, you learn he is an orphan. You’ve learned nothing since.

“You should take better care of yourself,” he says, as if caring for yourself is easy.

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, eyes giving him a quick once over. It’s been a few days since you’ve spent the night somewhere with a working bathroom. Without a mirror or razor, the stubble on his chin has grown more and more pronounced. The hairs suit him, you think. Your fingers itch to run along his jaw.

“You’re staring,” he observes, mouth crooking into a smug grin because the undertaker or priest or whatever the fuck he is knows how handsome he is.

“Am I?”

Wolfwood stands slowly, brushing beads of sand off him as he does so. You try to keep your eyes on his face, on the slope of his nose, the dimples on his cheeks, but they wander anyway, along his broad shoulders, down his tiny waist. You’ll miss him when this is over, you decide.

“Wanna dance?” he asks suddenly. The question throws you off kilter. How long has it been since you’ve done something so mundane? Will you even remember how? Is it appropriate to dance given what tomorrow may bring?

“What about-”

“Needle-noggin and the lot are out like a light. No one will notice if we steal a few minutes for ourselves.”

He closes the gap between the two of you and links his right hand with yours, fingers interlocking. His hands are large and calloused from lugging around that heavy gun of his. Briefly, you wonder just how strong the guy really is.

 “But there isn’t any music,” you protest weakly. Wolfwood is frustratingly good at sapping away your resolve.

“Don’t need any. We’ll make our own,” he insists, slipping an arm around the small of your back and pressing you close, closer, and closer still.

This close to him, you can see deep into his eyes. There’s fear in them. Sadness too. He’s trying and failing to mask the emotions with a smile, with this dance. It must be so exhausting, you think, always having to pretend.

“One dance,” you surrender, relaxing into his embrace. He smells sharply of tobacco and nicotine, though you note hints of something a bit earthier underneath. Sweat, probably. It’s been a while since any of you have showered. “Then bed. Unlike you and Vash, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

A lopsided grin swims across his handsome face.

 “Aw, think I’m beautiful, sweetheart? That’s nice.”

There’s a biting remark on the tip of your tongue that never fully forms. Yeah, actually, you do think he’s beautiful. You’ve thought so ever since Meryl slammed the news van into him all those months ago. The impact should have killed him—it would’ve killed you—but Wolfwood simply rose up from the sand as if rising from an interrupted slumber. Beautiful, even with rivulets of blood trickling down his face.

“Shut up,” you hiss, cheeks heating as you think a bit too intensely about his sturdy body which is now pressed flush against your own. Has Wolfwood always been this tall? This large? His giant frame engulfs you as the two of you sway together, in tandem with Wolfwood’s quiet humming.

You rest your head against his sternum, listening to the sound of his heart beating quick and urgent like the wings of a bird. His chest vibrates as he hums his tune. You can’t seem to place the song. Likely, he’s making it up as he goes, the tempo slow and somber like a dirge.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” you ask him, conscious of the way your two left feet have nearly tripped him up twice. Lucky for you both he’s not just a hulking lump of muscle. He’s got a great center of balance too.

You chalk your awkwardness up to the loose, shifting sands and not to the odd sensation forming in the pit of your stomach. More unfamiliar than unpleasant. You swallow a few times in an attempt to settle it.

Wolfwood shrugs, spinning the two of you round and round in circles. “It’s not all that different than fighting.”

There’s truth to that, you suppose, remembering the fight on the Sandsteamer. Wolfwood refused to talk about the stranger you all watched disappear into the open maw of the sand ocean, but it was obvious the man once meant something to him.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. “Just follow my lead.”

So you do. You let him whirl you around the desert dunes for what feels like hours, grinning up at him through thick lashes when you manage to step on his toes. Again. He laughs, a little too loudly, and you have to remind him that if he’s not careful he’ll wake your sleeping companions.

“What are you going to do if everything goes well tomorrow?”

For the first time all night, it’s Wolfwood who stumbles. The misstep is small, slight, if you weren’t so entangled, you may have missed it, but you are entangled so you feel everything. You feel his feet stall as the question leaves your lips. You feel the rise and fall of his belly as he takes a deep steadying breath.   

His hand travels up the length of your spine, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. He thumbs across your vertebrae and you recognize the ministration for what it is: a silent plea for you to let the topic drop and just enjoy this moment the two of you managed to carve out for yourselves amidst all the chaos of the world.

You let your head drop once more, tucking it beneath his collarbone, right above his heart, still rabbiting in his chest. He isn’t humming anymore. There’s nothing to help the two of you keep time as you continue to sway together, now gliding across the sand like worms.

Around you, the clouds begin to clear and bright, twinkling stars start to peek out from behind them. A soft breeze kicks up around you, and the sand particles scatter with it. Wolfwood—Nicholas—keeps you pressed against him as the temperature mercifully begins to drop.

Your mind still wanders from time to time, curious what tomorrow may bring.

Who cares, you decide. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight, you’re content to dance.