#and can manage it without going to jump into rivers now...

[thelostgirl21]

Ever since realising that Joey referring to Jaskier as sapiosexually connecting with Radovid was likely 100% intentional, I've literally been losing my shit over the potential implications...

Like... new headcanon!

What if Jaskier has always approached the act of having sex with someone else as a form of performance art, driven by his desire to please his "audience", and making other people passionately respond to what he's doing for them?

Like... what if what normally sexually interests him isn't so much inspired by the other person, but more by the general idea of being wanted, needed, and the anticipation of the positive feedback he might get from sexually interacting with them.

He readily experiences primary aesthetic attraction towards other people, finds them interesting, becomes curious about them, and feels instantly affectionate towards them; but he's not sexually aroused by / attracted to them, per say.

He really wants to make them feel good, and bask in that sense of intimacy, togetherness and praises he receives from being sexually involved with them (yeah, because he's that good at figuring out what pleases them, and offering it to them).

And somehow, audience response/participation tends to really inform how good or "smooth" he is when it comes to his ability to seduce someone, and convince them to become sexually intimate with him in the first place?

For example...

So... what if Jaskier is a bard and an artist through and through? Not just on stage, but in the sheets as well?

Turning sex into poetry and something very deliberate, where it's all about a sense of artistic expression, and a pure melody of various physical sensations and emotions!

Sexually? Jaskier is an artist, a creative, a free thinker... All is fair!

But it's not something that he usually feels any urge or need to engage in based on the way someone else inspires him any sudden desire to have sex with them specifically.

He loves his sexual partners, he's intrigued by them, he wants to connect with them - even if that connection lasts but a night - and sex allows him to do that.

But maybe he has no idea that sex might be experienced differently by others.

Maybe he just thinks they're like really really REALLY expressive and appreciative of the sex itself, or something, whenever he notices how hungrily some of them appear to throw themselves at him, or at each other.

Also, I've somehow always found it a bit weird how Jaskier seems to fully remain clear minded during Yennefer's magical orgy.

Yennefer comments on how Geralt seems to be immune to her spell, as if it's some kind of big deal!

But then, there's Jaskier...

He just waves at them as if he's totally unaffected by everyone else fucking each other around him, and being surrounded by a bunch of naked bodies having sex...

And/or looks like he's not quite comfortable with the way someone's hand is moving closer to his crotch at some point...

Grant it, he's slowly being suffocated to death by a Djinn's magic, and likely has other priorities than sex in mind!

But that's just the thing...

Isn't Yennefer's spell supposed to override people's ability to think rationally or fully understand what's happening? Everyone snaps out of it looking confused, and poor Jaskier just basically passes out, but he's never once looked like he stopped looking at what was happening around him from an outsider's P.O.V.

Whenever the camera cuts to him, he seems to be sharing the same reality as Geralt and Yennefer, not the kind of sexual haze everyone else appears to be happily trapped in.

Would being affected by the Djinn just make him immune to the whole "sex weed magic thingy" as well?

Or would the usual lack of primary sexual attraction towards other people make it a bit harder for Yennefer's spell to take a hold on him?

(Another headcanon theory I came up with - should Jaskier be revealed as being the direct descendant of Fjall and the Lark - would be that, perhaps, the small touch of magic in his blood would be enough to make him more resistant to certain types of spell... On top of being able to eat whatever he comes across without freaking poisoning himself, I swear!)

But yeah, let's just imagine, for a moment, that sapiosexual Jaskier would have no clue (or very little clue) of what it actually feels like to specifically be sexually attracted to someone (rather than the sex itself, and all it may represent to him) in a way where you are viscerally craving that sexual contact with that specific someone, and you feel like you might go crazy if they don't finally have sex with you.

Then, along comes Radovid, that he develops a sapioromantic and sapiosexual attraction for...

And, for a while, Jaskier thinks he's just losing his freaking mind, because there are moments where Radovid is just there, simply being all sensitive and insightful while discussing dwarven politics with Yarpen, for example...

... and poor Jaskier's never been so sexually aroused in his life!!!

But Radovid is not even technically doing anything that's supposed to be "sexually charged"!

He's fully clothed, being all smart and sensitive, talking about a topic of interest to him while having lunch by the side of the road...

...and Jaskier is just there, casually eating next to him while listening to him talk with their friends.

It's 100% casual and totally trivial, day to day stuff... No plan for Jaskier to try and seduce him and have sex there!

So, how come does he suddenly feel the urge to pounce on him and beg Radovid to just take him right here and there, in front of all their friends at camp, and it's taking all the self-control he can humanly muster not to act upon that impulse?!

Instead, Jaskier stands up, awkwardly excuses himself, and decides the best way to manage the situation is to go take a random dip fully clothed in the nearest river.

"Why?", they ask. Because he was getting hot, that's why!

And no, he couldn't just remove his clothes instead! He liked them really baggy an concealing that day, thank you very much!

As a matter of fact, he might decide to just start wearing his shirt over his pants from now on, because he's starting a new fashion trend! No other reason!

Oh...

Oh, no...

NO.

Don't you dare look at me all concerned while trying to read into my behavior, you stupid prince... Wait. Is that a smirk?

You're smirking aren't you?

How do you look like you've figured it out, when I've no fucking clue what's even going on with me?!

Great! And now the river's cool water is not even working anymore!

That's it! I'm never walking out of here again, and I hope you know it's all your fault!

No. No, don't take off your shirt and get into the water with me, that's not...

Oh? Oh! Everyone else is going and leaving us alone? Okay, nevermind! Fuck! Why's it so hard to walk while standing waist deep in water? Surely there must be a way to get to you faster...

And I'm just imagining poor Jaskier trying to ask Yennefer if Radovid might be some kind of sorcerer with latent magical abilities or something... Because, whenever he's around, there are moments where he randomly feels this overwhelming urge to make love to him, even if the context is not appropriate for delivering a sexual performance of any kind!

Like yes, it has happened to him before to have "the muses" whisper in his ear that sex with a certain someone might be good, and he's typically very open to sudden bursts of inspiration and unplanned sexual improvisation!

But that's not the same thing!

It only happens specifically with Radovid - especially when he's saying or doing something really witty, sensitive or insightful - and it's like his whole body suddenly catches fire, gets all tense and trembling with need; and being touched by him and having sex with him feels like finally being able to breathe after someone's forcefully been holding your head under water for a while...

Radovid must be bewitching him, somehow, for sure!

And Yenn is like "You know that what you've just been describing is simply what regular sexual desire feels like for most people, right?"

And Jaskier's just going:

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

The Nights

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Warning(s): none, but reader is assumed female for having a period.

Notes: Written for the bestest big sis ever, @h4wari, ALSO inspired by the song "Some Say" by Nea

Masterlist

It had been a day.

A terrible, rotten, no-good day that had you wishing for the ground to simply swallow you up once and for all. Not even Wind's cheerful chatter could assuage the annoyance you felt upon waking up before the sun to an unholy pain in your abdomen and tell-tale stickiness on the seat of your pants. It was only by the grace of whatever deities existed that you managed to sneak away from the group with your dignity intact, several thick rags stuffed in your tunic. The nearby river was mercifully abandoned as you took care of business, grumbling about the throbbing in your lower half.

The rest of the afternoon passed similarly, with you distinctly remembering silencing several of Twilight's concerned gazes, his nose slightly wrinkled, with a look patented specifically for situations like these, all the while dodging Wind's queries on why you were walking funny. The sailor's worry was cute, you had to admit, but it was the last thing you wanted to experience when you were currently aching and bleeding.

That didn't mean there weren't saving graces, of course. You had nearly cheered when multiple breaks were taken for seemingly no reason and almost shed tears when it was suggested that the group stay at the inn of the town you were passing through.

"Rough day?"

You practically jumped when Legend plopped down beside you, hands resting in his lap as he gazed curiously at you. You shrugged, bracing yourself when the log rocked slightly at the added weight. The sun shone through the gaps of the trees like a beacon, bathing you in tangerine light; you had been unable to relax in your room, so the log at the back of the inn seemed the next best place.

"It's fine," your stomach throbbed in a way that was undoubtedly not fine. "I'm fine."

"Funny, because I don't believe you," Legend said like he was merely pointing out the weather, and your neck nearly cracked with the force with which you turned to glare at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Unexcused," he said without missing a beat. Your eye twitched. "I'm not a child, (Y/n)–"

"You sure act like it–"

"–And I can tell when someone's in pain," there was a sharp look in his eyes that you weren't sure you liked, especially when another spike of pain tore through your abdomen, followed by a rush of wetness that had you wishing for death. "Especially when it's someone I know."

You raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to hide your discomfort. The way his violet eyes studied your face was unnerving, but you couldn't help but notice the other emotion lurking at the very center of his gaze.

Was it...concern? The very thought seemed preposterous--a mere wish taken from the depths of your subconscious--but the longer you looked, the longer you knew it was true.

Legend was concerned for you, and you had no fucking idea how to proceed. If there was any comfort in the terrible reality of having periods, it was that you always knew what to do when they arrived, but now, you were floundering. Badly.

What were you to do? Console him? Tell him to fuck off and mind his own damn business? Ask what in Hyrule had possessed him?

Legend's mouth moved once more, and you realized he was going to decide for you.

"I have something for you."

You blinked. Twice, then thrice.

"You have what?"

"Something," he shrugged, not bothering to elaborate as he rifled through his pack. "For you."

"...That's ominous," you said, not quite knowing how to proceed. On one hand, it was sweet, but on the other... "Dare I ask what you're plotting?"

Legend paused to fix you with an unamused gaze. "Woooow, can't a guy be generous without criticism?"

"Not when it's you," you shot back, wincing when a terrible shock shot up your spine. It was simultaneously too hot and too cold, and you were practically on your last wits.

"I'm generous all the time," the Vet scoffed. "You just never noticed."

"Because you're an asshole."

"So are you," he rolled his eyes, and you were forced to accept the terrible predicament of him being right, though it didn't stop you from gaping and wondering why his head hadn't exploded from the sheer rage in your gaze. "Here."

All your thoughts skidded to a stop when he tossed a gray square-shaped object into your lap. It was soft and round, with gentle edges, but the most startling observation you made was how warm it was. You lifted the square, marveling in the sheer amount of heat soaking into your palms.

"It's a heat pack," Legend explained quietly, averting his eyes from your face, expression uncharacteristically shy. "It's supposed to help with cramps and... all that."

All that.

You were silent, holding his gift like the treasure it was. It had been so long since anyone had been this thoughtful, and the fact that it was from Legend, of all people, baffled you to no end.

"Why?" you asked... and immediately felt dumb for it; you understood why, it was just...

"Because you're a lot less annoying when you're not in pain," Legend responded and you paused to contemplate what exactly you had seen in him. It wasn't a secret that he was blunt and snarky, just as capable of being a true asshole as he was being a decent person.

"Right," you studied the square for a long moment. "Where did you even get this?"

There was a pause.

Your eyebrows shot skyward when he blushed. The Veteran, king of sarcasm and plentiful digs at one's character, grew redder than his tunic in the face of a simple question. One thing was clear; whatever his answer was, it would be good.

"Legend."

Silence, save for the rustling trees and swaying grasses. You shielded your eyes against a stray ray of sunlight, biting your lip when another bout of pain stabbed your stomach.

"It's not going to work unless you use it," the Vet mumbled, still refusing to look at you. You immediately placed the pack against your abdomen, and, fuck, did it feel good. It was a battle unto itself to keep any... pleasured noises at bay when delicious warmth soaked directly into your poor, tired muscles.

Violet eyes flicked to you, then back down to the grass by his boots. You pretended not to see anything.

"Thank you," the words felt thick on your tongue. "This... thank you."

"It's nothing," the hero responded slowly, though the flush on his cheeks hinted that it was anything but. It was cute that he was so flustered, even if he was also being a jerk about it. "...I should go inside."

You watched him stand, deftly wiping imaginary dust from legs, and considered letting the moment end. It was late, and you were exhausted.

But.

"You made it, didn't you?"

Legend froze, boots kicking up some grass from how hard he stopped. You stayed quiet as he stood with his back to you, nearly motionless. A long minute passed before he turned, cheeks pinker than a cherry blossom tree at the height of spring.

"Yeah."

You pressed the pack closer, relishing as more heat swept into your aching skin. "How?"

"Does it matter?" Legend's response was sharp as his arms crossed over his chest, and it was a response you knew well. He had always been guarded, even when no one was there to hurt him.

"Maybe," you said, smiling ever-so-slightly. It felt good to grin again, like life had finally decided to act in your favor. "I'm just curious."

Legend rolled his eyes, lips twisting into a sneer that was so unadulteratedly him that you had to look away for a second, though the expression didn't reach his eyes, which were bright and focused. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that curiosity killed the remlit?"

"Just now," you managed a chuckle when he blinked, clearly not expecting a response. "But satisfaction brought it back."

The Hero of Legends was silent, until the mask cracked and a low chuckle escaped him. Maybe it was the dusk, casting a golden glow on his skin, or the breeze, ruffling his strawberry-blonde hair in a manner than would never not be him, but you felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to enact a move only accomplished in fairytales and dreams.

You rose to your feet, clutching the pack closer as your muscles screamed in protest, and hobbled over to him, one hand resting on the smooth fabric covering his right shoulder. Legend stiffened, eyes widening when you pressed the softest of kisses to his cheek. He stuttered something, cheeks practically exploding with color, but you were already gone, headed to your room with warm cheeks and a satisfied expression.

Legend knew he was in deep shit.

He had watched you all day, noting the way you clutched your stomach when you thought no one was looking, or the face you made when Wild mused about making stew for the fifth time in a row. Don't get him wrong, he loved stew, but the expression on your face was enough to have him butting in to suggest they expand their culinary horizons to fried rice. Twilight, the bastard, had given him a shockingly astute gaze, followed by a soft head tilt in your general direction, but Legend had contained himself impressively, only responding with a certain finger pointedly raised in the air.

When night had fallen, he followed you out of the inn for some goddess-forsaken reason, clutching an item he had spent an embarrassing amount of time making. Heat packs weren't difficult to enchant, but the process was nonetheless finicky--with a single wrong move capable of rendering the thing useless--and he wasn't interested in handing you anything but the best. He had a reputation to uphold, for Hylia's sake!

Until you kissed him.

It wasn't even romantic, the Vet reasoned, just a gesture of appreciation from you to him. Nothing more, nothing less. That is, if he had been able to excuse the feeling of your lips against the skin of his cheek as anything but perfect, so soft and warm that it threw him for a loop for a solid minute. It had been a miracle that he hadn't collapsed on the spot, still reeling from the situation.

And now, even as he walked down the moonlit hallway to his room, the thoughts of you were still there. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Kiss you? Confess the crush he had been nursing for weeks? Ignore everything and pretend he was above this like he always did?

No, Legend reasoned, hand falling on the doorknob. He was many things, but a coward wasn't one of them. He pushed the door open, only to freeze when he caught sight of what was inside.

It was you, because who else would it be, with a look of barely-disguised realization on your face. An identical room key dangled from your grasp, and Legend could have cursed whoever decided to give that damn rancher control of room assignments for the night.

"...I can explain," you began, though it was obvious you couldn't. The key jingled when you brought it up to the light. "Twilight–"

"Yeah," Legend cut you off with a short wave, closing the door behind him. The silence was deafening, and just staring at each other was getting really awkward. "He's an ass."

"I wouldn't say an 'ass'," you chided, though it was half-hearted at best. Legend noticed you were bereft of your usual tunic, dressed in only a shirt with no sleeves and some ratty trousers. He couldn't recall seeing you like this before, but it wasn't an unwelcome change. The subtle bulge around your abdomen indicated that you had made good use of the pack, and that was pleasing in its own right. "...But he doesn't skimp on causing trouble."

"...So he's an ass."

You snorted, embarrassment fading as you rested your hands on your hips. "Har har, very funny."

"I wasn't joking."

"You were."

"Nope."

"Yes."

"N–"

"You're fucking lucky I don't have the mental fortitude for this right now."

Legend fell silent, finally noticing the bags under your eyes, not to mention the way you seemed to hunch in on yourself, one hand pressed to your belly, and it was enough to make him actually consider his next words carefully.

"...Is it working?"

He knew it was a dumb question, but someone had to ask it.

Your expression softened and you nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear, gaze flicking to the bed. Legend tried not to blush any more than he already was. "...It's getting late."

"...Yeah."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It was a sound he had heard many times, typically when someone had decided to be a pain in the ass, but he had always tried to keep it from being directed specifically at him. "Don't look so scared, I'm not kicking you out."

Legend blinked. "You... aren't?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not," your tone was light, and it made him feel a bit better about the situation. "We can share."

Share. Share.

He was familiar with the word, of course, and it would have been no big deal with literally anyone else, but the thought of sharing a bed with you was... well, it seemed too good to be true.

"Unless you're uncomfortable," you amended quickly, the tiniest hint of red blooming over your cheeks. "I'm sure Wind and Four–"

"No!" Legend could have cursed himself for sounding so desperate, but the mere thought of spending the night alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I mean–... we can share."

You nodded, the ghost of a smile on your lips, and made your way to the bed. The sheets rustled as you slipped beneath them, shuffling over to make room for him. Legend used those few precious seconds to remove his boots and red tunic, setting them carefully atop the provided dresser next to your own clothes. His belt was placed next to the pile, the edge hanging down to brush the hilt of his sword.

By the time he was ready for bed, you had already dozed off, curled on your side with both arms around your stomach. Legend allowed himself to smile, sliding into the empty spot beside your form. The bed was firm enough to be comfortable, not to mention a lot less lumpy than expected, but he would have slept on the floor itself if you were there.

A quiet whimper broke through the silence.

Legend shot up like a spring, scanning the room for threats before focusing his gaze on you. The bed creaked as you rolled onto your back with a noise of discomfort, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut. Your shoulders trembled noticeably and his heart felt like it was being stretched in a million directions.

You were cold, in pain, or possibly both.

Legend knew he had to fix it.

With ninja-like stealth, he crept from the bed, snagging his tunic off the dresser. You made another noise when he tucked the item around your form like a second blanket, pulling the comforter all the way up to your chin, deftly ignoring the somersaulting feeling in his stomach at the sight of his tunic over you. It was neither the time nor place to be pleased at... whatever this was, so Legend smoothed the bedsheets and settled atop them. It was a warm night, so he wasn't worried about getting chilled as he pulled you close, arms encircling your form.

A sigh left your mouth and your head turned to the side, settling in the junction between his neck and shoulder like you belonged there. You were asleep, the Vet knew, and would likely not remember any of this come morning, but he allowed himself to lay his head just above yours, letting your scent wash over him as he fell into the best sleep of his life.

I just realized that Twi is literally a wingman in every one of my stories, he'll get his turn eventually <33

[fruitywritter]

Sick

Summary: You got sick after a mission :(

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: None, fluff

Words: 1.8k

A/n: Heyy! I know it’s been a while :( But! I tried writing this one so I hope you like it! :))

“Fuck my life.” You muttered, letting your body fall to the mattress in front of you. It’s been a tough day and being sick was the last thing you needed right now.

You just came back from a solo mission, nothing too dangerous, you managed to come back without many issues, only a few scratches.

But you caught a cold since you had to literally jump from a bridge into a river in order to escape.

That’s great.

And you hated being sick.

The wetness on your suit made you groan and stand back up to change your clothes.

All you wanted to do now was lay on your bed and sleep. By the temperature of your body you could tell you had a fever. You felt absolute shit.

Natasha was on a mission, she was away for nearly two days. You didn’t have the chance to talk since it was a dangerous one and calling her would probably get her in trouble. You knew that she would come back today, Fury told you that.

The rest of the team were probably downstairs doing whatever and they didn’t even saw you entering the building.

Except from Wanda.

She saw you while you entered the elevator on her way to the kitchen. Just by looking at you she could tell that you were tired, so while you began changing she started cooking a meal for you down in the kitchen.

Wanda knew that a soup would definitely make you feel better.

After taking a hot shower you finally changed into warm clothes. Some grey sweats and one of your t-shirts that Natasha stole from you. You sniffed it, taking in her smell. A gentle smile was brought on your lips as your body collided on top of the mattress.

The exact same moment you heard a knock on your bedroom door making you instantly groan.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” You heard Wanda’s voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s unlocked.” You called out as Wanda opened the door and entered.

“How are you feeling?” The brunette asked making you throw your head back into your pillow.

“Like shit.” You mumbled as the woman started walking towards you, a bowl of warm soup on her hands. “What’s this?” You scanned it curiously with your eyes.

“What do you think it is? It’s soup, dumbass.” She chuckled, placing it on top of your drawer beside the bed. “You have a fever?” She asked you.

“Maybe.. I don’t know.” You shrugged, sitting on the bed with your back against the bed frame. Wanda handed you the bowl with the warm soup as you brought the spoon in your mouth, tasting it. You nodded approvingly. Whatever Wanda cooks never fails to impress you.

“Let me see.” She said, leaning towards you and placing her palm over your forehead. “You’re burning..” She muttered before standing up and going into the bathroom, a few seconds later she came back with a box of antibiotics. She also grabbed a water bottle from your desk before sitting beside you on the bed.

“Here. You take these after you finish your soup.” Wanda said, placing them on top of the drawer.

“Thank you, Wands.” You nodded before continuing eating as the brunette smiled.

“When’s Natasha coming back?” She asked making you look up at her before shrugging.

“I don’t know.. She’s supposed to be today.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I can’t. Fury says it’s too dangerous.” You shook your head before staring at a random corner of your room. Oh how much you wished Natasha was here right now.. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy Wanda’s company, it’s just that you just missed your girlfriend.

You wanted to have her here, safe with you. You’ve spent many lonely days without her, where you would wake up alone and you’d have to worry every second of the day if she’s okay out there.

The same with Natasha. Whenever you were on a mission, she’s spent her days alone, waiting for you to come home.

You two cared deeply and loved each other.

“Hey. Relax, she’s okay. Maybe she’ll come back later.” Wanda reassured you as she could hear your thoughts. You muttered a small ‘yeah’ before finishing with your soup.

After taking the antibiotics you laid back down, Wanda helping you get under the warm blankets. “Thanks.” You smiled as she nodded before grabbing the empty bowl and walking towards the door.

“Get some sleep, Natasha will be back when you’re awake.” She smiled before she turned away, turning off the lights and getting out of the room.

Shortly after you felt your eyes closing as deep sleep took over you.

**

Natasha had just landed with the quinjet in front of the Avengers compound. Looking up at the dark sky she wondered if you were still awake. Nick informed her that you had gone to a mission while she was away and you already came back. She couldn’t wait to see you again, she haven’t heard your voice for a few days and she missed it.

It was around 1am when she entered the kitchen for a quick meal before going to your room. She didn’t think that anyone would be awake at this time since tomorrow most of the team had a mission assigned. She was wrong though, when she entered the room her eyes found Wanda, sitting there on a chair beside the counter.

“Hello there.” Wanda smiled at the red head.

She couldn’t sleep so she chose to come downstairs to drink some water. She was a bit confused as to why Natasha was that late. Wanda thought that the red head would come back early.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Natasha asked with a raised brow.

“Couldn’t sleep. How was your mission?” She questioned with a soft smile on her lips, she was happy to see Natasha was okay. They were great friends, Natasha was like a big sister to the brunette and since she was dating her best friend that made them more close.

“It was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” The red headed woman smirked before moving towards the fridge, getting the ingredients out to make a quick sandwich.

Natasha noticed Wanda’s silence while making her sandwich so she turned towards the brunette with a questioning look. “Everything alright?”

“Kind of..” She began as the other woman raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. Wanda sighed before saying. “It’s Y/n..”

At that Natasha’s eyes widened with a frightened look on her face. She tried to stop the bad thoughts from crossing her mind but she wasn’t that good. But Fury told her everything was okay, that the mission was successful. Why would he lie about Y/n’s well being?

“Hey. Nothing bad happened to her. She’s just a bit sick.” Wanda said, walking closer to Natasha with a comforting smile.

“What do you mean sick?” Natasha asked, looking into Wanda’s eyes.

“I went to check on her after she came back and she had a fever. She’s alright, I gave her some antibiotics and she went to sleep.” Wanda explained, trying to calm her friend down.

Natasha simply nodded before smiling gently at Wanda, she finished making the sandwich before taking a bite. “Thank you, she’s lucky to have a friend like you..”

“Oh please, you’re both lucky to have a friend like me.” Wanda teased her, trying to lighten up the moment.

“Fuck off.” Natasha chuckled.

The brunette nodded with a smirk before looking the time at her phone. “It’s late, we should go to sleep.”

Natasha nodded as she began walking beside Wanda. They left the kitchen and walked towards the bedrooms. When they stopped in front of Wanda’s door they said their good nights and Natasha continued walking towards your bedroom.

Until then she had finished her sandwich as she gently opened your door, trying not to wake you up. She smiled at the sight of you sleeping under the covers.

After changing in more comfortable clothes -some shorts she had left inside your closet and one of your T-shirts she stole from you a few weeks ago- she finally laid beside you on the bed. She moved slowly trying not to disturb your sleep, Natasha laid her head against your chest, hearing your soft heart beat. With a smile on her face she kissed gently the skin on your neck and closed her eyes.

Soon after sleep took over her as you two laid there in each others arms.

**

Light shined through the windows in your bedroom, making you blink a few times your eyes as you started waking up.

Your throat still felt a bit sore but you felt better than last night.

You tried moving your body but you were locked there, looking down you saw a pair of hands holding onto your waist. As you were now fully awake you felt soft breaths on the back of your neck.

A smile was brought on your face as you realised who the person behind you was.

You placed your hands on top of Natasha’s, running your fingertips through hers. You felt her breath hitch as you let out a quiet chuckle. Pulling away from her and turning your body around facing your redhead.

She immediately hid her face in the crook of your neck as you grinned. “Good morning, love.”

“Morning.” You heard her mumble against your neck before leaving a kiss on it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better..” You nodded with a smile. Wanda must told her about you feeling sick. “How was your mission?” You asked her as she sighed before pulling away from your neck, you stared into her eyes with a soft smile.

“It was okay, what about yours?”

“Great as you can see.” You chuckled, “I should have thought of a better exit plan..” You said as she frowned, waiting for you to explain. Letting out a sigh you said, “I kind of had to jump into a river.. That’s how I got the cold, I guess..”

“You’re stupid.” She shook her head with an unbelievable look on her face.

“Hey! I’m not..” You frowned, crossing your arms.

“Sure.” She simply nodded before cracking a smile. “Come here, you dumbass.” Natasha said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling you into her, crushing your lips. You kissed her back as she gently nibbled on your lips.

As the air became a problem you pulled away, you had a stupid smile on your face as she rolled her eyes. “I missed you..” You spoke.

She grinned before hugging you gently, “I missed you too, darling.”

You laid there together for a few more minutes. Enjoying the silence between you two. Life was great actually, as long as you had your girlfriend beside you. After months of being together, you never stopped enjoying her presence. It was like the universe sent her to you.

[yeonmuse]

can you continue bloodlust and have sunghoon teach her a lesson and realize the one she hates the most is the one she wants the most despite heeseung and jake? and can you have her coming onto him, surprising him but also making him give his best

— Bloodlust pt 2

( pairing) - vampire!Sunghoom x f!r 2.9kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of sexual themes/blood/etc [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary ⚰️

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle

Though Sunghoon had been away on business he was well aware of the events That had taken place in the estate. Not only had he had ears everywhere but when he finally returned home and all the others had left he could still smell their scent lingering on you. The fang marks that had adorned your thighs and shoulder had been enough confirmation of the events he had been informed had taken place while he was away.

Sunghoon knew you hated him, he knew you were entirely against living with him from the beginning. Though there should have been an unspoken vow to not sleep around with anyone other than him, especially those that were close to him like Heeseung and Jake. When he first found out he was completely pissed, not only with you but with the others, even though he knew they were like a moth to a flame, as soon as they got the opportunity to jump on you they would take it, he expected nothing less of the two, though you on the other hand he’d never expected you’d be as bold enough to let them have their way with you.

It had been a week since Sunghoon had come back from his business trip and he hadn’t spoken to her once, no snarky remarks, no arguments, nothing. He simply minded his business, even during dinner when the two would sit straight across from one another in the dining hall she was met with silence. It wasn’t until she finally decided that she would be the one to break the ice that he’d finally speak.

Sunghoon sat silently in his study, glasses sat upon his face as he flipped through his book. She slowly made her way inside assuring she wouldn’t disturb his reading as she herself moved to the shelf to reach for a book, her thoughts suddenly drifting off to her first week in the estate when he had cornered her against the bookshelf. Sitting across from him he hadn’t even spared her a glance as she took a seat and placed her book in her lap, every now and then her gaze would shift to him yet he continued to ignore her presence.

“Did I do something..? You haven’t said a word to me since you got back, no smart remarks, nothing.” Silence, she was met with silence.

“Sunghoon..?”

Sunghoon on the other hand had been treading his best not to let his intrusive thoughts get the better of him, he’d be lying if he had said he hadn’t been somewhat hurt. Knowing she had gone behind his back and slept with his friends only two days of having her fingers tangled in his hair moaning his name. She had been the only woman he had met that showed immunity to his charms and it both angered him and enticed him. He didn’t think that he would love the thrill of the chase this much but something about her made things fun. The way she talked back to him, the way she acted as if she hated him despite her attraction. She was the first human, let alone first person that he had ever found himself wanting to yearn for him.

“So you’re really going to ignore me?” Rolling her eyes at his persistence in acting like she hadn’t been sitting there she stands from the chair and throws the book onto the coffee table nearby.

“Even without having said anything you manage to be an asshole.” Her words made an amused grin curl onto his lips. Finally sitting the book aside and standing from his seat he manages to slip an arm around her waist before she could walk out the door.

“You’ve really got a mouth on you.” He responds brushes guys lips against her soft skin.

“You’ve ignored me this entire week and why I do to talk to you, you act as if you don’t hear me.” She responds turning around to face him, he stood somewhat shocked that she hadn’t had anything smart to say in return though he also found it amusing that she was hurt by him having ignored her.

“You think you deserve anything from me after you went and fucked to of my friends hm?” His fingers traced her skin until his hands met her waist pulling her flush against his body. He watched as she fell silent and her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke.

“Does that bother you?” She asks, staring up at him in a way that was almost menacing to him, as if she had been challenging him.

“Tell me then who was the better sweetheart. Me or them?” He had fully expected you to respond with Heeseung or Jake wanting to piss him off, but instead the word you fell from his lips leaving him somewhat stunned.

“Were you expecting a different answer?”

“Were you expecting me to say that they were better? When I know you’re capable of making my body react in ways that satisfy the both of us.” Sunghoon was taken back by your sudden revelation. He was fully expecting you to say one of the others wanted to make him mad, though he wasn't shocked at all knowing that his performance was above all.

“Mm you do seem to find delight in pissing me off.”

“Would that have pissed you off then? Saying that they were better?” His hand rests at the ball of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

“You’re like an oblivious little doll aren’t you. Your ignorance alone pisses me off. The fact that you think I'd let you freely sleep around with my friends and not do anything afterwards is cute.”

“Wait- Sunghoon what.” In mere seconds the two of you had been in what you assumed to be his bedroom. His arm still wrapped around your waist while he held your wrist in his other hand.

“I’ll erase every trace of them from your body. I'll make sure the next time they step foot in this house they get a clear message of who you belong to.”

As you opened your mouth to speak, his hand immediately gripped your throat to silence you.

“It really pissed me off knowing that you’d lie in my house after fucking my friends and think that you’d not get caught.” If you had spoken even one word with the grip he had on your neck you'd have blacked out right then and there.

“To make matters worse..their fangs touched your pretty skin.” He didn't hesitate in bringing your wrists to his lips. You opened your mouth to defend yourself but once his silver eyes met yours you immediately fell quiet. You were forced into silence but they were absolutely captivating.

“You let him place his lips where only mine should be.” you were so busy staring into his eyes completely entranced to realize that his fangs had dug into your wrist. It wasn’t until you heard a groan spill from his lips and heat rise in your body that you realized he was now feeding. At first the pain of his fangs having ripped through your skin set your skin ablaze, but within mere seconds it felt like a simple pinch, a mere bee sting. Sunghoon listened in satisfaction to the way your heart beat picked up. The way you sucked in a breath told him enough, he had you exactly where he needed you. His silver eyes remained locked on you as he watched your head fall back and whimpers spilled from your lips. Humans get aroused by the simplest things he thought to himself, it was exactly why he usually found no interest in them, he felt they were so gullible and lacked self respect. But you, something about you made him feel alive again.

“So pathetic, you hated me just a week ago, yeah? Now all of a sudden you want me?.” While one hand remained on your neck the other slipped beneath your shorts.

“Jake and Heeseung weren’t enough for you sweetheart?” As his fingers circled your clit, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak any coherent words. The more you tried to, the more frequent the pumping of his fingers had become. He was doing it on purpose, he was toying with you, trying to work you up and get you frustrated because of course that was simply the side of you he loved the most. His fingers finally pushing past your folds, he slipped three fingers in and his fangs attacked your wrists once again. His fang marks digging into the exact same place that Jake had bitten, completely replacing the aussies fang marks with his own.

While he drank in your blood that was like sweet nectar to him, he curled his fingers inside of you earning a clench and tightening of your walls around his fingers. When he feels your desperation as you bucked your hips against his digits he laughs. With a soft him he pulls his lips away from your supple skin and swipes his tongue over his fangs.

“Look at that, you have no sense of shame, fucking yourself on my fingers after letting Heeseung and Jake use you like you were all theirs.” You had now completely drowned out his words. The feeling of his fingers curling and fucking into your wet mound was the only thing hazing your mind. You had been so close to your release, feeling your orgasm build up but you were only met with disappointment as he pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his lips.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you hm?” He roughly throws you down onto the bed. Slipping his rings further back on his fingers while climbing into bed in front of you. Seconds later he slipped in two fingers, taking the time to stretch your walls and feel you out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. The way you whine for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down, he wouldn’t stop teasing until you begged for it. His fingers thrust further into your cunt with every loud cry that left your mouth. His eyes glistened with pure lust and attraction as he watched you squirm and cry for more beneath him.

“Tell me then sweetheart did you think about me fixing you whenever they had their way with you?” The moment his eyes locked with yours he could sense you growing desperate and before you knew it you were practically begging him to fuck you.

"Hoon please.'' you choked out, your words barely audible but it was good enough for him because no matter how you said it the sound of his name from your lips was something he knew he would love to hear more of. Slipping in yet another finger he watched how your expressions changed as he moved his fingers faster. He tried his best to read your thoughts but it seemed that at the moment nothing was there, just the mere thought of him and all the things that he was now doing to you.

''Answer my question first love.'' he loved the way you squirmed and your body convulsed as he continued to stretch you out and pump his fingers inside of you, and as he stopped to remove his fingers to bring them to his lips he couldn't deny that your begging and pleas for him to continue had been so much sweeter. scooping your legs up and going between your thighs his eyes gazed up at your sleepy face as he left kisses on your inner thighs. before sinking his teeth in earning a small yelp from you before your fingers grasped at his hair. He was having too much fun, far more fun than he had expected to have with someone that was only meant to be a quick fuck like the others

“Yes- yes I thought of you.”

Moments after his lips met your clit and the sounds that spilled from your mouth following his actions made him desperate to hear more. He slipped his tongue through your folds and as your head fell back at the immense pleasure his eyes stayed trained on you. He already knew this though, he had known he without you even having to tell him, and the fact that you’d moan his name only that entire night made it all more satisfying.

''You look so beautiful like this sweetheart, crying my name so desperately.'' he slips his tongue past your entrance all while using a few fingers to massage your clit. He gave you no time to respond before he was attacking the heat between your legs as if he himself was desperate to touch you just as you were for him to touch you. Your fingers tugged at his dark locks as his tongue played with your sensitive core. It was a feeling you weren't exactly used to but god was it something you now wanted to experience more of. As he sensed your hip movements he forced your thighs against the bed and continued to suck and pleasure with his fingers all while you whined and moaned out for him and him only. He watched as your face contorted at the pleasure and felt as you clenched around his tongue and fingers and he was more than sure you were meeting your release.

"Gonna cum angel? '' He chuckles, feeling your fingers coiled within his dark locks as he so calmly worked to get his pants undone, his cock finally springing free from his pants and slapping against his abdomen. He watched as your eyes gazed down at it needily, the way they widened momentarily before resting at their natural state of admiration.

You were so mesmerized by the sight of it that it hadn’t even crossed your mind how easily you’d given into him. Yet you simply didn’t care either all you could find yourself thinking about was all the different ways and different places he could fuck you. Your eyes rolled back immediately as you clawed and bit at his shoulders. A sudden pain overwhelming your lower half bringing tears to your eyes.

“Be good for me now yeah? Or else I’ll fuck over and over and make sure that you never get a chance to cum.” He started slowly allowing the pain to subside as he pushed further past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach. He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Look at you taking me so well.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against the desk. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails dug so deep into his shoulders and back that they’d have drawn blood and your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

The sound of his name spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Pisses me off that all of the others went home before I could make them listen. Give a clear message of who’s you actually are.” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little bunny gonna cum all over my cock after getting used by the others.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there.

You on the other hand, you were a moaning mess, fingers digging into his shoulders as he fists your hair and fucks into you with feverish thrusts. His fingers met your clit and overstimulation almost instantaneously settled into you. He mercilessly played with your clit like his life depended on it.

He paused his thrusting, one hand came down to under your thigh, pulled your leg up to your chest. As he speeds up his pace the sound of skin on skin grew loud throughout the room and as if on cue or something you both had cum at the same time, both your bodies in harmony with one another as you finally were able to relax.

“You’re mine, not there's.” He mumbles, his face buried deep in your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and love bites, before he finally sank his fangs into your neck completely taking you as his own.

“And next time they come around I’ll make sure they know that”

[foundouthatdabiistouyatodoroki]

Touya's past analysis: Part 3: Chapter 350

Touya is running in the forest, encased by flames. Touya's jaw is coming off. This can be a call back to how Endeavor described the remains: that a piece of his jaw bone remained. 

Touya commenting on how hot they are Touya is feeling the temperature of the flames and references how intense his flames are. This reminded me of the line that was spoken in the last chapter.

I wonder if that's what is always felt, that all the time he is always on fire and that everything was hot. 

This is ironic. Touya never wanted to die, but Dabi did; not wanting to die proved you have hope for something to live for, and Touya, in this case, was hoping that his father would care about him.

Touya is heading towards a river jumping into the river after accidentally setting himself on fire Touya manage to protect his body by jumping in the water,  Touya all burnt up and near death with AFO standing at the end of it

in case you didn't notice AFO appeared in the trees last chapter it wasn’t obvious.

AFO's standing over Touya's burnt body has sinister implications.

A few years later, Touya woke up in bed alone in a new place. Touya woke up confused about his surroundings; he was in the forest now, at the bed. 

The children's cheerful smiles were not welcoming, just unsettling. When Touya asked, Touya touched his throat and was surprised that his voice had changed.

Touya learned he was in a coma for a few years, but hearing the children's answer didn’t ease his anxiety; it worsened it. There was a look of confusion and anxiety on Touya's face when he heard their answer. 

This place alone conveyed just how unsettling it is. In fact, it's even more unsettling that Touya was brought from the forest there to be fixed. How did he get there? Who brought him? There was no one in the forest but him. That's what makes the situation so disturbing; we know who it was that brought him, but not Touya. It just adds to how unsettling this situation is.

Here he looked scared, alone, and confused. He is desperate to get home, even the Sun-Sun guy didn’t help with matters. The sun sun guy's smile was just disturbing because you can tell there are hidden intentions behind it. 

Touya is told that this can be his new family, but Touya has no idea what a family is since Endeavor has no interest in being a father. He knew the circumstances of his birth and his siblings; to him, all his family gave him was pain. 

It felt like those values were forced on him without his consent. That is exactly what Sun Sun was doing to him. Having a new family is not what Touya asked for. They didn’t consider his feelings in this like Endeavor; neither asked what Touya wanted or thought. They just imposed their views on him.

Having a family that would smile under the sun. Touya would not view it that way, and if he did, it wouldn’t be that different from what he felt in the household; in fact, the children's happy faces would feel even more isolated due to the pain he suffered. He would be aware of what the facility was doing to further the isolation, much like he is aware of his circumstances in the household. This is not a family but a cage or an experiment. 

Touya is alone in a new place. He is anxious and scared. He wanted to go back home, being told that he can’t leave made Touya even more desperate.

As I stated, Touya still held on to the belief that Endeavor might care even after being in a coma. He still holds on to that hope; he is still stuck in that same mindset as back then to get his father to see him again here.

As I stated before in the last chapter, Touya was capable of feeling remorse. He felt guilty for attacking Shoto before, so he would have remorse for lashing out at Rei. Touya was somewhat aware that Rei was suffering, too, but was too angry to notice that he was angry when Rei gave a hypocritical speech to him, so he lashed out

Touya feels guilty for all the awful things he said and did, and he has to apologize to his family. His Mom and siblings were his top priority. While talking to Sun Sun, Touya is holding on to that thread but is crushed moments later.

Touya is surprised by the monitor speaking; the speaker on that monitor told him the condition of his body is that his senses are dulled so he cannot feel pain.

Touya placed a hand on his skin when he listened; his appearance changed as a result of the extensive surgery to his body. 

When he heard he cannot produce strong firepower like before Touya’s eyes widened with shock within hand on his mouth pure horror on his face when he learned that he could not prove himself to Endeavor this is the same horror he displayed when he had when he was training with Endeavor when his quirk first burned him it conveyed the same feeling Touya is feeling at the moment.

The next panel was when he was training with Endeavor, I pointed out that Touya was happy when he was training with Endeavor but here that is the part when Endeavor noticed the white in his hair that was that his body was incompatible with his quirk l that was the beginning of what caused his father to discard him and AFO calling him a failure reminded him of how Endeavor viewed Touya as when he discarded and abandoned him.

Touya’s value was judged by the strength of his quirk, and his losing that strength led to Endeavor discarding him and deeming him a failure. Touya has his face in his hands; he is in complete despair; he lost his purpose of surpassing All Might.

Touya rejects AFO manipulations, any attempt that AFO used to manipulate and use Touya was unsuccessful AFO is the same as his father AFO uses others as tools and then discards them similar to how his dad treated his children viewing his children as tools for his ambitions and discard them once he considers them failures Touya had a good eye he can figure out someone's thoughts he didn’t know what was going to happen did he not escape but knew enough that these people held sinister intentions and also he wasn’t going to allow others to dictate him. 

Here Touya has tears in his eyes it showed it wasn’t the last time he cried he he can still shed tears Touya telling AFO to shut up mean that Touya had enough of people giving him false advice Touya isn’t going to desperately beg for help because it didn’t work for his family he tried begging for his family to look but it didn’t work they didn’t see his tears Touya knows his purpose and doesn’t need anyone to tell him. 

Touya got into an argument with Haruaki Sun Sun, and he unleashed fire before fleeing the facility. This proves just how scared and desperate Touya is to go home. Despite everything he felt in the household, he loved his family, and he only thought about going back home to his actual family and apologizing to them. Surrounded by strangers telling him they would be his new family, but he rejected that because he loved his family. He rejected a new one in favor of his own; he wouldn’t fight so desperately to escape from Haruaki Sun Sun if he didn’t. 

They sounded like they let him go but in reality they didn’t care they didn’t care about Touya or stop him from escaping. They considered him a failure, so they didn’t even try to stop him. 

The fire in the building contrasts with the fire in the forest to emphasize that his flames are how weak they are now. Touya’s fire power is strong and can burn an entire forest down, but here his flames are not strong enough to burn down the facility, so Touya never killed anyone in the facility. 

Touya runs home and you can see the burnt sleeves he was trying to escape.

He still had hope but lowers it since his body was weak he unable to surpass All Might hence losing his purpose but ended up but creating a new one he wanted to know if his death changed his family situation even after everything he still thought of everyone else in the family he wanted his family to be happy and healthy a place free from abuse he wanted his family to be happy and with him returned home with hope of finding a change improved home environment only to find the same sight. 

The first two things he saw was he saw was his picture on an alter and his father abusing his brother on the floor the same way he had before Touya witness Endeavor abusing Shoto was enough to know the Endeavor hasn’t change he is still obsessed with surpassing All Might losing a family member did not affect Endeavor.

Despite having a death experience, being in a coma for three years after being gone and presumed dead by his family, his death did not change anything in the family. His death changed nothing. 

Touya wanted to believe that his pain and suffering mean something if it didn’t it would be like saying that all the pain and suffering he experienced was for nothing Touya wanted to find meaning for his suffering believed that suffering lead to healing as a way to assign to his trauma but it was nothing but a wish and reality showed him that. Returning he was reminded that he had no purpose the scene showed him again that his life was meaningless Touya meaning he tried to make it go away with the scene remaining unchanged was taken away. If his death didn’t change his family as a whole it was all for nothing and that is devastating to Touya to learn of how his family find him dead and didn’t change make it feel like he never existed in the first place not having anyone see you or even look at you it feels like you don’t exist. 

He had hope, but it was in vain. 

There was one thing that was important when Touya was coming home he desperately craved validation but not just from from his father but his family as well he was desperate of having his family to look at him too that's why he remained at home to get his family to see him that's why in the present he was angry because they couldn’t provide it. 

Next panel Touya is praying to the altar, he is praying to the self who died that day then by finding a new purpose is to get revenge on Endeavor for all the abuse he put him through Touya planned on dying ever since he became Dabi what could get through to Endeavor is his death wasn’t enough? Then he decided to get through to him by ruining Endeavor by turning himself into a villain planning for a decade for his revenge on Endeavor he was willing to put everything on the line for his revenge his goal he had no intention to live or be careful he only lived for vengeance he wasn’t going to live a happy life as this didn’t seem to ever possible since the accident and Endeavor abuse crushed any hope to live a happy life since one he had for his family to be happy was gone so avenge himself as the final thing he could do to live to get revenge is his new purpose. 

It was once stated his body wouldn’t last for a month, but Touya isn’t a fool. He knows that his body won’t last; that's why he decided to die after he got his revenge on Endeavor. So his body is held together by his resentment this emphasizes that he wouldn’t let his body die that easily Touya has a lot of tenacity and powerful emotions to keep him alive however he is not only held together by his resentment but also his quirk some unknown element that keeps him alive heavily notes that it was Touya’s ice part of his quirk keeping his body alive.

What did Touya do on the streets as Dabi? That is something we might never know since it's not important; what's important is how he got there. 

[lunarmothim]

shadowbound- john price x reader

part i: prague - the patch had been left on your doorstep two months ago, the threat clear. it was a warning, the only headstart you were going to get.

word count: 4.4k tags/warnings: language, assassination attempt, abduction, brief torture, allusions to ghost's backstory. price is an asshole and reader is a menace. afab reader.

notes: is it overly ambitious of me to start two series at the same time? probably. am i gonna do it anyway? absolutely. idk what this is really, i just wanted to do a bit of a reader on the lam kinda thing, bit of a hunter/hunted dynamic ;)

this has been edited! about 200 extra words, bit of clean up. chapter 2 will also be getting some edits for continuity :)

Prague had been an impulse decision. A dart thrown at a map, a large city with a population of over a million and a booming tourism industry, plenty of places to hide. A fake passport had gotten you over the border of Czechia easily enough, but with how far you wanted- needed- to run, only the real deal was getting you back out.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a quaint cafe on the river, exposed and anxious, trying your level best to pretend to be a normal person, a regular nine-to-fiver just enjoying a cup of overpriced and overly sweet coffee and a Danish the kind cashier had sweet-talked you into buying. The key word being trying, because you're anything but a nine-to-fiver- you're not normal, and you shouldn't be here, out in the open and so fucking vulnerable.

You need the documents you'd paid way too much for way too badly to leave, though.

So you sit there, sweeping the area again as you sip your coffee, willing your rapidly bouncing knee and the fingers tapping against perforated cast aluminum to be fucking still. You try to quell the rapid staccato of your heartbeat drumming painfully against your ribs, to fill your lungs with careful, measured inhales, to expel the anxiety in each exhale. It doesn't work. It never works. Your knee continues to bounce, your fingers continue to tap, your eyes continue to dart across every face you see until you settle on them.

Two men sitting at a table nearby, clearly trying to blend in just as much as you are but are far too tense for the early morning ambiance of a quiet Prague cafe, and oh god, are they looking at you? They're dressed casually, but the way they hold themselves screams Military. Danger. Your shoulders tense as you lift your gaze from them to pretend you're just looking around, but your knee finally goes still as you prepare yourself to run.

Even more concerning than the men, though, is the slight glint of light you see atop one of the buildings across the street.

Fuck. You're moving without thinking about it, clearing the railing surrounding the patio half a second before the shot splits the air and a bullet lodges in the wall near where your head had just been. Startled screams, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears, shatter the still tranquility of the morning, and you have to duck as the brickwork of the wall you're sprinting past explodes under the impact of another bullet.

Rapid heartbeat pulsing more adrenaline through your veins, you duck down the nearest alleyway you pass, another shot striking the ground behind you as you run full-tilt toward the railing you can see at the far end of the alley, blocking the short drop to the river below. A gruff voice yells something unintelligible behind you, but you pay it no mind as you jump, planting a sure foot on the iron and launching into the air. You suck in as deep a breath as you can manage, straightening your entire body into one sleek line as you plunge down into the icy water of the Vltava.

The shock of the cold nearly punches the air right back out of your lungs. You fight the heavy drag of your clothes as you swim up, gasping in a breath when your head breaks the surface, opening your eyes to look around for your escape route. You're relatively safe for now, the sniper's sightline blocked by the buildings lining the river and the levees along the bank, but you only have so long before they find a new vantage point and a lot less cover in the water.

The chatter of your teeth aches deep in your jaw as you swim to the opposite side of the river, hauling yourself up the levee. Ignoring the startled noises of the people walking along the bank you spare one last glance behind you, scanning the horizon for another scope flash and disappearing into the crowd when you don't find one.

You keep your head on a swivel as you wind through the gaggle of tourists and locals alike, people side-stepping out of your way and giving you curious looks as they take in your sopping state. You glance at each of them in turn, looking for anyone who lingers a moment too long, fully aware of your environment even as your mind races a mile a minute. Given how easily you'd been found at the cafe, it feels safe to assume your apartment had been compromised- not that you kept much there, your important belongings packed away in a backpack at the train station for situations just like this one. In that vein, it also raises the possibility that your contact had been burned, too, and now you were going to have to figure out another way out of this damn country. That is a complication, an irritation, but also a problem for another day.

Right now, you need to get your bag and get the hell out of this city.

The train station is relatively packed this time of day, people boarding and unboarding en masse on their way to work or wherever else they spend their days, and it's easy to blend in despite your still dripping clothes, weaving through the crowd until you reach a tall row of orange lockers. You fit the key into the lock on yours when you crouch down, pulling out your go bag and giving it a quick once over before zipping back up and tossing the key into the bottom of the locker.

With your lifeline secured, you allow yourself the tiniest sigh of relief- you're one step closer to freedom. You'll get to a different city, figure out the passport situation once you're somewhere safe.

Slinging your pack over your shoulder, you push up to your feet, turning back toward the exit… and freezing.

You're staring down the barrel of a gun, and one of the men from the cafe is holding it.

Wide eyes travel up the suppressor, over the sleek black body of the pistol, and up to assess the man, quickly taking in stern blue eyes under a black toque tugged snugly down to his ears, mouth set into a scowl amidst a questionable beard choice, brown mutton chops shot through with salt and pepper. He has a broad build- broad shoulders, broad chest, with brawny arms and thick, powerful thighs. He looks like a man who could crack you in half without breaking a sweat, and his partner, a few steps behind him with a weapon and a questionable hair choice of his own, is built the same.

Well, you can't help but think as you slowly raise your hands to show that they're empty, if I'm about to die at least my executioners are nice to look at.

"Who are you?" The man in the back with the mohawk barks in a thick Scottish brogue, piercing blue eyes fixed as firmly on you as his gun is.

"Does it matter?" you answer carefully, and you can tell they're not expecting an American accent by the way Mutton Chops inhales sharply, drawing your gaze back to him, to the pistol still pointed between your eyes. "You can't detain me like this, I've done nothing wrong."

"You were shot at in broad daylight on a crowded street," Mutton Chops growls back, and you can't help but flinch at that. Now that you're not in active danger- from that threat, at least- you wonder if anyone had gotten hurt in your attempts to get away from the sniper. "You can imagine why we might have some questions. Startin' with your name."

His tone suggests there's no room for argument but you mull it over for a moment all the same, narrowing your eyes at him. Blood zings copper against your tongue as you chew the inside of your cheek, considering whether you should be honest, lie, or just keep your mouth shut.

The decision is made for you when Mutton Chops' finger shifts on the trigger guard. You spit your name out through gritted teeth, eyes flitting between both men as you weigh your odds of getting away if you just hit them with your backpack and make a run for it. Low, if your assessment of them at the cafe had been correct and they are military. You'd probably be dead before you got the first strap off your shoulder.

"Why were ye bein' shot at?" Mohawk again, eyes cold and calculating as he sizes you up. He doesn't look like he knows what to make of you or this situation you'd all found yourselves in.

"Ask the cunt who shot at me," you snap, and you regret it in an instant when the barrel of the gun closes those last couple of inches to press to your forehead. You shrink back at the cold, unforgiving kiss of steel, trying to game some semblance of distance, but all it does is bump your backpack against the lockers behind you. This draws attention to your pack, and before you can blink Mutton Chops is grabbing you by the arm and yanking you around, pulling your backpack off with one hand and tossing it to Mohawk, the other firm between your shoulderblades as he shoves you into the lockers. Fuck. It takes everything in you to keep your cool, turning your head to look at them from the corner of your eye. "Fuckin' hell, at least ask before you manhandle me-"

"Shut up." The hand on your back pushes harder, forcing you to exhale with a soft wheeze. Mohawk is digging through your backpack, tossing your belongings carelessly to the floor, and your heart leaps into your throat when he pulls out your gun. The suppressed pistol touches the back of your neck in response to the discovery, stormy blue eyes meeting what little of yours he can see.

"What's this, then?" Mohawk asks, holding up your P890 with a raised brow and a harsh frown.

"You were holdin' one not two minutes ago and you don't know what a gun is?" Pissing them off is a bad, bad idea, but you can't help the sarcastic comment that slips from your mouth. Mohawk's lips press into a tight, irritated line, and the gun digs in- right at the base of your skull, where your spine meets your cranium. It'll be quick at least, painless probably, but right now that bite of metal hurts. "Ow, fuck-"

"Quiet." Mutton Chops pushes harder, and you whimper as the metal of what feels like a combination lock digs painfully into your chest. From the corner of your eye you see him glance at Mohawk, still throwing your scant belongings to the ground. "Gonna guess you don't have a permit for that thing?"

"Can't be quiet and answer your questions at the same time," you wheeze, planting your hands against the lockers. The slight push against the metal to give your chest room to expand properly pushes you back into the gun at your neck. "Make up your mind-"

Something dark, something dangerous, something that screams at you to run, run fast and run fucking far, flashes in his narrowed eyes, a storm over the ocean. This is it, you think, squeezing your own shut in response as the gun digs further into your spine. I went and ran my stupid mouth, pushed too hard, and now I'm going to die for it.

But the shot never comes. Both men are dead silent, and when you dare to slowly crack your eyes open to look, you see why. A circular patch sits in Mohawk's hand, a grey remnant of your past life with worn stitching where your thumb had rubbed over it repeatedly. The patch that had been left on your doorstep two months ago, the threat clear.

It was a warning, the only head start you were going to get. It was all they'd left, not even a note to tell you why- though you could guess- but you'd heard your commander's voice in your head clear as day. I'm comin' for ya, and I like to play with my food. Run.

"We need to leave, now," Mutton Chops barks suddenly, and you barely have time to process before his gun is off the back of your neck and the hand between your shoulderblades is grabbing you roughly by the bicep. A yelp of pain and surprise is ripped from your lungs when he hauls you away from the lockers, leaving your belongings scattered across the platform as he drags you toward the stairs leading back up to the street.

"Get off me!" Your angry shout goes entirely ignored, both by your unexpected captors and the people passing by that avert their gazes at the sight of their weapons. His hand is a vice on your arm, pulling you along like you weigh nothing despite your attempts to dig in your heels. Too open up there, too exposed. "Fucking let go-"

"Not a chance." All of the air rushes out of you when Mutton Chops slams you face-first into the tile wall of the staircase so hard you're sure the handrail will leave a bruise across your stomach. He holsters his gun just long enough to wrench both of your arms behind your back and secure your wrists with zip-cuffs, and the fierce, raw anger in his eyes that you catch in your periphery has you shrinking in on yourself, making yourself small under his fury. "You're gonna come with us, and if you don't wanna tell us why you have a fuckin' Shadow Company patch on ya, we'll make you tell us."

Your mouth goes dry at the implication. "Torture is a war crime."

"I prefer the term enhanced interrogation." With that he yanks you away from the wall again, dragging you kicking and fighting up the last few stairs to where a van is waiting on the curb. He's not nice about it when he slides open the side door and throws you bodily into the interior, and the only thing that keeps you from slamming into the far side of the van is a pair of legs belonging to another man who lets out a surprised noise. "Bag her."

The door slams, and for the second time in what feels like hours but has probably only been ten, fifteen minutes at most, there are unwanted hands on you.

These hands are surprisingly gentle though, lifting your head to fit a stale-smelling black bag over your head, leaving you bound and blinded. Defenseless.

"Sorry about this, love," a kind voice murmurs, but you know better than to trust it- you've seen the good cop, bad cop routine before. They must run it often if, even in the confusion you'd seen on his face when the van door opened, he'd immediately fallen into his role.

"Go fuck yourself," you growl, twisting at the zip-cuffs. You're not getting out of them, but it makes you feel a little better to pretend.

"Watch yer ankles, Gaz, she's a feisty one," the Scot's voice sounds like it's off somewhere in front of you, the passenger seat maybe, an edge of amusement in his tone. Gaz. One name out of three. A nickname, maybe, or a callsign. "Bit like a feral cat, might bite."

"You can fuck right off, too," you spit at him, tugging more intently against the zip-cuffs binding your wrists. You should really quit while you're ahead, shut up before they decide it's too much trouble and just shoot you and dump you back in the Vltava, but you're cold, you're wet, and you're pissed.

Maybe feral cat wasn't too far off.

"Watch it, princess, or you'll get some duct tape too." The new voice has you stopping cold. Definitely English, deep and gravelly and edged with a deadpan kind of danger that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Something tells you that Mutton Chops' handling of you had been a gentle tickle compared to what this man could do to you.

But your mother had always said you had more guts than sense. "Eat a bag of dicks, you fucking cunt-"

"Kid's got a foul mouth on her," Mutton Chops' voice filters back from the front, and you growl under your breath. "Duct tape's not a bad idea."

"Got some righ' here, Captain," the Scot says cheerfully, and you bristle at how easily you'd been dismissed as a threat if they feel comfortable enough to joke around in front of you. You force yourself to focus on the second identifier instead- a rank. Definitely military, then.

"So what's the story here, anyway?" the one called Gaz asks, and you feel a boot nudge your leg. The tap has you growling, squirming your body across the uncomfortable metal of the van's floor to get away from it. He hauls you right back with an almost embarrassing ease. "We come here to meet an informant and end up with a random American?"

"This." The rip of velcro, and a sharp whistle cuts through the vehicle, followed by a quiet grunt.

"What's a Shadow doin' in Prague?" the deep voice rumbles.

"That's what we're gonna find out."

When the van stops you focus on the opening and subsequent slamming of doors. The side door slides open and you lunge immediately in the direction of the breeze you feel against your skin- you don't make it very far before hands are grabbing you again. Your feet are barely under you before they're dragging you over what feels like loose gravel, up a short set of steps, over a threshold, up a longer set of steps. Safehouse. Two floors at least.

You're shoved bodily into a chair, and you squint against the sudden intrusion of light as the bag is ripped off your head, wincing when several strands of hair go with it. Your gaze flits around the room, skating over the four men that come into focus in favor of cataloguing every minute detail of the room from the frigid metal beneath your thighs to how the small space is devoid of anything but a table shoved against the wall next to the door.

Once you've taken in what little you can of your surroundings, you let yourself look at the men. The first to catch your gaze is Mutton Chops- the captain- towering over you, brawny arms folded over his chest. He's flanked to his left by Mohawk, leering at you with a wolfish grin that shows far too many teeth, and to the right a tall black man with dark eyes shadowed by a faded blue ball cap.

A few steps behind them all is the largest man you've ever seen. Built like a brick shithouse, you have to crane your head back until it hurts to see his face, and a violent shiver rolls straight down your spine when all you see is dead, empty eyes staring back at you through the holes in a piece of skull sewn into a black balaclava.

Fear twists like a hot knife in your gut- you know just looking at him that all the others had been child's play so far. This one looks like he could crush the life out of you with one large hand. He looks like he'd enjoy it.

Your train of thought is broken when the captain crouches down to your eye level, and you have to force yourself to drag your gaze away from the man in the skull mask to meet his cold blue stare. "Here's how this is gonna work. You're gonna tell us why you have this-" he holds up the patch, making sure you can see the rook and spade logo stitched into it- "truthfully. If you lie, if you refuse to talk, we'll have to resort to more… encouraging methods."

"Given how you treated me on the platform, I'm surprised you didn't want to start with that," you taunt, and at the same time you want to kick yourself- tell yourself to shut the fuck up because what exactly do you hope to accomplish by continuing to rile up men who aren't above torturing you for answers? You must have a fucking death wish. Still, you can't stop yourself from sticking your foot further into your mouth, lowering your voice and leaning closer to his face. "Bet you get off on that shit, don't you, Captain ? Pushing women around, trying to scare 'em. Hurting them." Something flashes in his eyes before they harden into steel, fingers crushing the patch into his palm.

"Last chance."

"Fuck you."

"Have it your way. Ghost." The captain rises, nodding to the man in the skull mask before leading the other two out of the room. The door slams shut behind them, leaving you alone with the one he'd called Ghost.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "What's with the mask? You ugly under there or somethin'?" The only response you get is dead silence, not even the sound of his footsteps as he walks over to the table and starts laying out his weapons. You imagine he's probably heard the question a million times, but that doesn't keep you from poking, distracting yourself from the leather bundle he's currently rolling out across the table. "I get it, I guess. If I was torturing innocent people I wouldn't want them to see my face, either."

"Never met an innocent Shadow." In this enclosed space you can almost feel the deep timbre of his voice vibrating in your bones. He's slow, methodical as he runs his fingers along the tools he's laid out, picking some of them up and examining them before putting them down again. What he's doing isn't lost on you- he wants you to see. An intimidation tactic, one you'll never tell him is working. "You have until I turn around to change your mind and start talkin'."

"Are you deaf? I've been doing nothing but talking-"

"Defense mechanism, yeah?" He picks up a wicked looking combat knife, turning it over in his gloved hands. You watch the motion, note the pattern of bones on the back of the gloves to match his mask- at least he's committed to the aesthetic. "You're scared, so you're runnin' your mouth. Seen it before. Everyone breaks eventually."

Satisfied with his choice he turns slowly, those dead eyes meeting yours again. He's idly running a finger along the edge of the blade, gaze boring into yours with an intensity that makes your earlier interaction with the captain feel like a childhood staring contest.

"Maybe I had it wrong earlier," you muse, tipping your head back to keep your eyes on his as he stalks toward you, ignoring that twist of fear, shoving it down to a rolling boil in your gut. "Maybe you're the one that gets off on hurting women."

You aren't expecting a reaction- nothing you've said so far has gotten anything more than cold indifference from him, but that stops him in his tracks. You can see the line of his shoulders go taut, a tense muscle ticking in his jaw beneath the mask as he processes what you've said, and the brief flash of something you see in his eyes feels almost familiar.

It almost looks like fear.

You can't help but prod at it.

"What, I hit a nerve?"

You must have, because he closes that last bit of distance in two long strides to crouch down in front of you, the hand not holding the knife grabbing you by the jaw with bruising force. His eyes are narrowed and absolutely frigid- whatever you'd seen there before is gone, replaced by a fury that, were you standing, would bring you to your knees.

"I don't get off on it," he growls, fingers squeezing into your cheeks like he's trying to impress his fingerprints into your teeth. "I'm doin' my job. That job is to deal with threats." You can't help a gasp when he releases you with a solid push of your head, but he doesn't stand up.

Instead, he brings that knife up to drag it slowly along your thigh- not enough to break the skin, but to remind you that it's there. The promise of what's to come if you don't start telling him exactly what he wants to hear.

It's a familiar threat, and a tired sort of resignation settles over you as you watch the blade catch on your jeans, ripping a tiny hole in the dark denim. The tip presses slowly into your thigh until flesh splits beneath the steel, and oh god it burns, but you just drag a sharp breath through your teeth at the sight of the blood beading on your skin, staining the steel crimson.

He stops there, just the tip of the blade pressed into your skin, his eyes burning holes into your skull. "Tell me 'bout the patch."

For the first time since they'd taken you in the train station, you're silent. He takes it for what it is, and you exhale slowly as he drags the knife down your thigh. Steady, perfect. It'll scar nicely, you think, cocking your head to the side as the blade digs in slightly deeper near your knee. Not like the ugly, unsightly scars the commander had left across your torso and back.

Suddenly the blade flicks up to your chin, pressing into the soft flesh and forcing you to tilt your head up until you meet his eyes again. His stare is almost curious, detached but still scrutinizing, searching for something. You stare right back, wondering what he's looking for, what he sees.

Ghost is a lot harder to read than the captain and the Scot had been, more of an unknown. You don't like unknowns, don't like anything you can't predict, and you think you could spend years trying to decipher even some small part of the man in front of you and get absolutely no where. On a primal level, that irritating little instinct scratching at your hindbrain, that terrifies you.

"Hm." The noise draws your attention, eyes refocusing slightly on the skull mask in front of you. You watch wordlessly as he rises to his feet again, setting the knife on the table and rapping twice on the door. You can hear hushed whispers when it opens, see the captain shaking his head. The door shuts again, and your eyes track Ghost picking something else up from the table- the hood you'd worn in here.

He drops it unceremoniously over your head before noisily cleaning up his tools and leaving you alone in the dark.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) top/bottom divider by: me line divider by: @/saradika-graphics

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Fifty

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Fireheart had run to and from camp many times. He had sprinted around the forest and come home barely needing a moment to rest. He’d raced through snow and ice and rain, stumbled through sticking mud, and stars knew how hungry or sleep-deprived he’d been—and even then, maybe once or twice he had to stop and catch his breath, only to trot through camp and talk with friends like nothing had happened.

So, dimly aware of it as he was, it was curious how this short run back to home was one of the most exhausting trips he had ever made.

Cinderpaw was heaving for air by the time they caught sight of the bramble wall that hid the entrance. Fireheart wasn’t much better—he had been pushing her, both physically and verbally, and offering sharp encouragement whenever she looked back the way they’d come with bulging eyes, the dark green of them somehow even darker. More than once, she had stopped, trembling, and pleaded that they go back and save Yellowfang. Fireheart didn’t have it in him right now to gently refuse her; he had just pushed her again and told her they needed to go. Cinderpaw’s head hung half the run, her nose nearly to the ground.

When they burst into camp, gasping and grieving, the Clan was all back, Dustpelt’s patrol just having returned and choosing prey from the prey-pile. Every eye turned to them in alarm, which turned to fear as they unanimously realized the young cats were alone.

Dustpelt jumped up and hurried over to Fireheart, tail bushy. “What happened? Where are Whitecloud and Yellowfang?”

“Dog,” Fireheart wheezed. He fought the desire to sink to his belly and faint. “Dog.”

A wave of shocked cries and hisses rippled out, Fireheart as the epicenter. He focused on breathing, his mind so foggy with fright and sorrow that he could barely think. Dustpelt was asking him something. He viciously shook his head, which only made him dizzy, and looked back up.

“Where was the dog?” Dustpelt asked again. Fireheart was grateful that he didn’t sound angry.

“At the neutral grounds,” Fireheart managed. “Found us right as we hit the border.”

Cinderpaw was shaking beside him, whispering something. Fireheart thought it was a prayer.

“Cinderpaw—” Willowpelt pushed her way through the crowd and up alongside Dustpelt. “Did you get hurt?”

Cinderpaw shook her head.

“Are…” Willowpelt shivered. “Are Whitecloud and Yellowfang dead?”

“They attacked the dog to save us,” Fireheart said mournfully, barely staying on his feet. “We escaped. I’m sure I heard it kill them.”

Murmurs of grief and horror now, and cats looking at each other with a shared worry that Fireheart saw in Dustpelt’s eyes, and felt in his own.

We don’t have a leader or a seer now.

“And you ran away, like a coward,” Darkstripe growled to his right. “Right after you promised us we’d be safe. How heroic—”

Dustpelt sharply rounded on Darkstripe. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you’re going out to collect the bodies on your own.”

Darkstripe sneered at him, but he grit his teeth and scowled at the ground silently.

Fireheart straightened up, even as his stomach rolled and he wanted to sink to his side and sleep forever. “Where’s Bluestar?”

“She’s in her den.” Dustpelt raised a paw. “Listen, you need to recover. I can tell her—”

“No,” Fireheart said, desperately wanting to agree. “She’s most comfortable with me, and I was out there. I should talk to her.”

Ravenwing carefully wove around Willowpelt and approached Fireheart, Greystripe behind him. “Well, you’re not doing it alone.”

“Especially with a dog around,” Greystripe added.

Fireheart’s entire body eased, his swimming mind finally pulling itself out of its muddy, circular river. He nodded gratefully, turning to lead them out as Brightpaw, Mousefur and Willowpelt came to Cinderpaw’s side and started murmuring to her, helping her crouch without collapsing and purring soothingly.

The trio exited camp, leaving the sounds of a quietly panicking Clan behind, and made an immediate turn left. Bluestar’s den had not stopped smelling, even from this distance. Fireheart took in a breath, but still hesitated at the lichen curtains in its entryway.

“You guys should stay out here,” he warned his friends. “This won’t go well.”

They shook their heads together. Ravenwing said firmly, “We’re doing this with you, whether you like it or not.”

Fireheart didn’t have the energy to combat him, and truthfully, he didn’t want to. He blinked gratefully and led the way in, Greystripe ducking as he came in last.

Bluestar, surprisingly, was awake, and she lifted her scraggly-furred head, squinting warily at the young warriors.

“Hello,” Fireheart said quietly. “Do you know me?”

Bluestar tilted her head, peering at her old apprentice with confusion. “No. Who are you?”

“My name is Fireheart,” he said, aware of his friends watching him in concern. “I’m afraid I have some very bad news. It’s about Whitecloud, your nephew.”

Slowly, with great effort, Bluestar sat up. Her fur was matted in places, and all of it shone with grease. She rasped, “Right, ah… White…cloud. Yes. What is it?”

Fireheart braced himself, not sure whether he was hoping that she wouldn’t react or that she would. “He just died. A dog attacked him and killed him.”

Bluestar blinked, eyes wide.

“He saved two lives in the process, including me,” Fireheart said, as gentle as he could manage. “But he’s gone. I wanted to tell you right away.”

Bluestar stared at him, not speaking for a long time. Greystripe and Ravenwing shuffled their back legs nervously, and Fireheart kept his gaze on his leader. He waited for anger, or shock, but…

“Right,” Bluestar said again. “Whitecloud.”

Ravenwing spoke hesitantly. “Do… do you remember him?”

Bluestar blinked again, then looked down. “I swear I do… but we have Whitekit already, don’t we?” She tilted her head questioningly at Fireheart. “Why is there a Whitecloud?”

A familiar knot settled in his throat, his stomach twisting. “It’s… it’s not important.” With his friends’ eyes on him, he forced a patient, cheerful tone that could not have more betrayed its fakeness. “The important thing is that he was your deputy, and we need a new one as soon as possible to replace him.”

Bluestar wobbled where she sat, scrunching up her face in thought. “I see. Then… then the new deputy…” Her eyes widened, inspired. “Ah! The new deputy will be Tigerclaw.”

She might as well have thrown Fireheart against the wall of the den with that punch to his gut. His friends weren’t much better; Greystripe flinched back and Ravenwing bowed his head, eyes shut tight.

“I’m afraid he won’t work,” Fireheart managed to say calmly. “We have to think of someone else.”

“Fireheart, I don’t think she can think of anyone else,” Greystripe whispered.

“I know,” Fireheart whispered back. “We have to help her.”

“That’s not what I…”

“The cats who can be deputy right now,” Fireheart said louder, “are Dustpelt, Mousefur, Willowpelt, Lizardtail, Ravenwing…” He hesitated. “And me.”

“I wouldn’t choose Ravenwing,” his skinny friend said quickly. “That’s… that’s me. I’m a bad idea.”

Bluestar didn’t acknowledge him. She peered at Fireheart, not really seeing him, visibly struggling to think.

“Whitecloud would suggest Dustpelt or Fireheart,” Greystripe said, careful and awkward. “He was going to have one of them be his deputy in the future.”

A long, long pause. Then Bluestar huffed and slowly laid back down, her chin on the edge of her dried nest.

“I want to think about it,” she croaked. “I want to think about all these cats.”

“Er—” Ravenwing cleared his throat. “We kind of need to choose as quickly as we can.”

“I’ll choose.” Bluestar weakly flicked a paw in his general direction. “I want to think. Leave me be. Go back to…”

She trailed off, eyes vacant.

Fireheart sighed, bowed his head and gestured with his tail. “Let’s go.”

“But…” Greystripe started.

“I’ll come back to see her,” Fireheart said. “Let’s give her space and talk to the Clan.”

His friends looked at each other, then closed their mouths and followed Fireheart out of the den. Bluestar didn’t make a sound as they left. Fireheart couldn’t bring himself to look back at her.

They reentered camp, everyone watching the tunnel and perking up when they emerged. Dustpelt was closest, flanked by One-eye and Halftail.

“What’d she say?” Dustpelt asked.

Fireheart shook his head dully. “She sent us away to think about it.”

“We don’t have time for her to think about it!” Frostfur stood up from where she sat with her sons, bristling. “The Gathering is about to happen; we need someone to go in her stead, and we need someone to lead us!”

“Can we even go to the Gathering?” Teaselfoot asked, tail tapping nervously. “What if that dog is going to make its home in the neutral grounds?”

“Regardless of if we do,” Lizardtail said, “we need a leader to make that decision.”

The Clan turned to each other, seeking a solution, their volume steadily rising with anxiety. Halftail turned his head back and gave a loud, deep, rumbling growl that swiftly silenced everyone as he and One-eye turned fully to the crowd.

“We’re not completely bereft of options,” One-eye said. “Even if Bluestar doesn’t choose in time.”

“When day comes, if she hasn’t chosen a replacement deputy, we will select someone,” Halftail continued.

One-eye nodded. “Whitecloud spoke to us several times about who he wanted to lead after him.” Her long, skeletal tail waved twice, pointing separately to Dustpelt and Fireheart. “And we agreed with him that these two are our best choices.”

Fireheart braced for objections. He immediately got one.

“You can’t be serious,” Darkstripe said, staring. He gestured angrily with a paw to Fireheart. “Him? He hasn’t even fully raised an apprentice!”

“Neither has Dustpelt,” Lizardtail said dryly. “And yet I’d rather follow both of them than you.”

“I agree.” Mousefur nodded to the elders. “They’ve proven themselves. I think either one will be good.”

Fireheart chanced a glance at Dustpelt. Despite his puffed-out chest and serious face, his tail was low to the ground and slightly trembling.

Voices rose again, but this time they sounded more confident. Cats nodded in approval or offered a vote on who to choose as deputy if Bluestar was too slow.

Halftail raised his voice. “Then we’re in agreement. By the morning, if a deputy has not been named, Dustpelt or Fireheart will take Bluestar’s place.”

“And now we wait for her to choose,” One-eye said. She let out a rickety sigh, speaking now to Halftail. “I almost think we ought to vote ourselves and have the winner retire her.”

Halftail flicked an ear in acknowledgement. “Worst comes to worst, that’s what we’ll do. We can give her this last choice.”

Something brushed against Fireheart’s pelt; when he looked, Ravenwing had come to stand beside him, and Greystripe was arriving on his other side.

“You ready for this?” Greystripe asked in a low voice.

Fireheart breathed in, only now registering the knots of fear in his chest. “I’ll have to be.”

“Well…” Ravenwing bumped his forehead against Fireheart’s shoulder. “Whoever gets picked, we’re here for you.”

Fireheart returned the gesture, purring despite himself.

The night went on slowly after that: Fireheart and Cinderpaw had to repeat exactly what happened to Whitecloud and Yellowfang multiple times to different cats, the pain worsening with each telling. Conversation turned to how they would retrieve Whitecloud and Yellowfang—if there was anything left to collect—how Cinderpaw was going to get her name, and how the other Clans would react to such a shrunken, weakened ThunderClan. Consensus was that they would have to act strong and confident at the Gathering. Fireheart made a mental note to speak honestly if he was to lead them there.

When the stars began fading, and the sky paled in the distance, Dustpelt and Fireheart went to the elders.

“Bluestar ought to have a choice now,” Halftail said. “One way or another. She’s had time to think about it.”

“And if she chooses someone that isn’t either of you…” One-eye winked. “We’ll just veto her selection.”

Fireheart sighed an incredibly weak excuse for a chuff, nodded and said, “I’ll talk to her. Dustpelt, do you want to come?”

“I do.” Dustpelt turned away from the elders as Fireheart did. “Mostly because I don’t want you foisting leadership on me if she says your name.”

This chuff was a little more genuine. The toms padded across the clearing together, every eye on them, and Fireheart took the lead to pass through the entrance tunnel. They turned and continued on to Bluestar’s den, stopping just in front of it and peering through the lichen to see a sleeping form, half-hidden by shadows.

Dustpelt wrinkled his nose and sighed through it. “She needs to become an elder as soon as possible. This isn’t sustainable.”

“It isn’t,” Fireheart agreed morosely. “I was hoping she’d get to die as a leader, but… I guess that’s just not realistic anymore.”

Dustpelt gave him a sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this. I should’ve been helping you.”

Fireheart nodded faintly. “I appreciate that, but it’s best that I’ve been doing it. Me and… and Whitecloud, I mean. Even after she forgot us, she’s been reacting positively to our visits.” Before Dustpelt could say anything else, he shook out his pelt and straightened up. “Let’s see who she chose, then.”

Dustpelt looked like he wanted to say more, but he just jerked his chin down and followed Fireheart through the lichen.

Bluestar, surprisingly, was awake. She hadn’t even changed positions from when Fireheart had left earlier: her chin was on the edge of the nest, eyes dull and empty. She gave no indication that she’d heard either of them.

Or saw them.

…Or that she was breathing.

“Bluestar, we’re here to…” Dustpelt started, then trailed off. He sniffed, then froze.

Fireheart, already knowing and desperately hoping it wasn’t so, crouched in front of her still nose. “Bluestar?”

No response. He pawed at her ear. It didn’t twitch.

“…Bluestar?”

[toughguymatt]

Night Drive

Part 3/3

Pairing: AU!Nick x Male OC (Adrian Rivers) Summary: Curiosity getting the better of him, Nick takes up an offer to go on a late night drive. Warnings/Content: Language. Oral sex. Third Person POV. Posted in three parts, so it's an easier read. Smut is in the final this part. A/N: When we say AU, we mean it. Nick bartends, is into cars, and knows how to drive? Crazy. Buckle up, get strapped in. Also, the FC for Adrian is Vinnie Hacker, but feel free to picture whoever you like.

Part One / Part Two

"Just... Yeah. Right up there." Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car jostled to a stop. The overlook was one of Adrian's favorite spots. But it had been a while since he'd hidden away to watch the sunset, to imagine the lives of the blurry tiny specks in the distance, to tempt his toes at the edge. 

The stars were brighter than Nick could see from the car, and it was a rarity to be able to just park somewhere without worrying about getting the car back in time. Movement from beside him caught his attention, and immediately Nick’s eyes fixated on Adrian. 

Adrian interlocked his fingers and stretched them above his head with a moan, a sliver of skin peeking beneath the hem of his shirt. "So, Nick, have you been up here before?"

Nick swore he could see Adrian’s damn Adam’s apple move under the hum of his moan, but he didn’t have time to speculate long due to the way his shirt rid up like a fucking wet dream. He was… unfairly attractive. “Not up here, I don’t think.” He spoke as his eyes flickered back to the side of Adrian’s face, stomach fluttering now that Nick didn’t have the distraction of keeping them alive. “The view is pretty good, though.”

Adrian's gaze drifted from Nick's obscured blue eyes to his lips then back up again. "Yeah." he agreed. "It is." Nervousness stirred in Adrian's abdomen. He was completely okay with sitting and talking, but the urge to touch Nick was becoming a problem. Adrian blamed his kinesthetic leanings and the fact that he'd never seen a more kissable mouth in his entire life. Adrian wet his lips, leaned over the armrest, and reached forward to softly brush Nick's hair from his eyes. "Can you even see it?"

Nick’s heart picked up in pace and a blush bloomed over his cheeks. “If you thought I couldn’t see, it was pretty fucking risky to let me drive you over here.” Anxiousness pooled in his stomach despite the way his head tipped just slightly toward Adrian’s hand. 

"Taking risks is part of the reward." Adrian’s fingers dug into Nick's shirt, curling the texture against his fingertips. "You got into a car with me in the first place. I think you knew what you were getting into." Adrian yanked at the fabric, pulling Nick into a kiss.

Whatever Nick was about to say died on his lips the moment Adrian's were pressing against them.

Adrian bit at Nick's bottom lip, gently sliding it from his teeth, before soothing it over with another kiss. "This console between us is about to piss me off." Adrian kissed Nick's jaw, beneath his chin, and against the pulse point of his neck. A quiet moan caught in Nick’s throat as it tilted back just enough for the press of Adrian’s lips. He smiled against Nick's warm skin. "We might have to do something about that.”

The vibration of Adrian’s words against his neck left Nick breathless. He lifted a hand to tangle in Adrian's hair. "Yeah..." Nick managed to say. "It was your dumbass idea to go on a drive. In a car," he exhaled, breathily, as a shiver rolled over his skin. He needed more. 

Nick crashed their lips together, lips dragging down to Adrian’s jaw; mouthing his words against it: "You can push your seat back."

Adrian half-chuckled, half-moaned. "You can," he put his hand on Nick's chest," push yours." He shoved Nick back into the driver's seat before adjusting Nick's chair for him in a quick motion. "See?" Adrian gave Nick another kiss and drifted his hand to the waistband of Nick's pants. "Much better."

Nick’s stomach jumped in excitement as Adrian’s fingers bumped against his stomach. A sigh etched into his words. "Yeah, for you." His tongue brushed over his bottom lip in frustration. "Can barely fucking reach you now."

"You don't need to reach me," Adrian murmured against Nick's mouth as he unbuttoned Nick's pants.

“I want to.” Nick was embarrassed that he was already hard, face tinged with red, as a gasp of a moan vibrated against Adrian's lips. The zipper teeth of Nick’s jeans scratched at Adrian's knuckles as he palmed over Nick's underwear. Nick’s hand automatically rose to grasp at Adrian’s wrist loosely, self consciousness creeping back in at the worst moment. 

"If you need me to stop," Adrian spoke quietly as he continued to touch, "just tell me."

Nick slowly let go of Adrian’s wrist as his other palm slid down Adrian's torso, finding the hem of his shirt so that the pads of his fingers grazed the skin underneath. “Don’t stop,” he whispered. 

Adrian kept their mouths busy with feverish kisses as he thumbed over the head of Nick's cock. He enjoyed the weight of it in his hand, but he was growing impatient to feel it on his tongue. Nick, meanwhile, forgot how to breathe, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck." Nick’s teeth lightly dug into Adrian's bottom lip, chasing his kiss.

Adrian leaned back with reddened lips, needing to see exactly what he was working with. He hooked his fingers against Nick's waistband, Nick’s cock straining deliciously against the fabric. Adrian’s mouth was watering. "Move your hips."

Nick exhaled sharply as he complied, albeit a second delayed, hips finally rolling up at his gentle command.

"Not so bossy now, huh?"

"Shutthefuck up.” 

Adrian kept eye contact as he spit into his palm. “Make me.” His own erection was pressed against the center console as he gripped Nick’s cock with slender, tattooed fingers. He kept his motions firm but gentle, enjoying the sounds vibrating into their kisses, as slickness built up beneath his hand. Adrian sighed against Nick’s mouth after a final, hungry kiss. “Need to taste all of you,” Adrian mumbled. He edged downward, keeping his hand pumping at the base. 

Nick wet his lips and slid his palm along Adrian’s back. Nick was so hard in Adrian’s hand that he could barely think. 

Adrian softly licked at the head of Nick’s cock, before taking it completely into his mouth with a moan. Adrian looked how honey tasted, and somehow, his tongue felt just as smooth. The first lick to Nick’s cock had him fighting to keep his hips still as he sighed heavily into the air. The sight of Adrian’s tongue brushing over his heated skin would definitely not be forgotten anytime soon. 

“Fuck, Adrian,” Nick whispered, momentarily throwing his left arm over his eyes. If he watched the way his lips moved over him too intently, this wouldn’t last long. Eventually, his arm slipped away, falling against the side of the car as his other hand sunk deep into Adrian’s hair. Nick moaned again, gaze half-lidded and face permanently stained pink as his knuckles tightened in the strands, tugging as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

Adrian groaned around Nick’s cock, keeping his pace as his jaw ached. The pain was worth the weight of warm skin on his tongue, but it wasn’t enough. Adrian lifted up to catch his breath. “Nick,” he spoke hoarsely. “Harder. Pull my hair harder.”

Nick's pupils were blown, his cock twitching at the low scratch of Adrian’s voice. It echoed in his ears, rolling over him in waves. "Jesus. Okay," Both hands buried themselves into Adrian’s hair, fingernails scratching along his scalp. He pulled at the amber strands roughly as his hips shifted under him. 

Adrian near-whimpered at the simultaneous pull of his hair and Nick’s desperate intake of breath, but instead he focused on his up-and-down motion. 

"You're gonna make..." A sharp breath punctuated Nick’s words, tone tapering off into a borderline whine until he cut himself off, tightening his grip even further. This time the tug was a warning. "Gonna come."

Adrian’s eyes welled with tears as Nick hit the back of his throat with spilled warmth. He raised gently, mouth closed, and moved to the passenger side door. He opened it just enough to spit onto the pavement. He exhaled as the door shut, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You good?” Adrian leaned back over to give Nick a chaste kiss. “You better be,” he whispered near his mouth with a smile.

"After that? Damn. Give a guy a second," Nick whispered back, lips curling to return his smile, but instead he closed their distance again. His nose bumped against Adrian’s before brushing their lips together briefly as he took a moment to calm down. His palm drifted down Adrian’s arm as he shivered, blue eyes still darkened as he tried not to melt back into his seat. 

Nick wasn’t sure how much time passed before he was finally able to move; tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his pants. The flush that remained covering his skin was now in part to embarrassment. He just let himself be… dick out in a stranger's car. Yet Nick still took a moment to drift his eyes over Adrian in appreciation. He let out a soft exhale as he wet his lips. Adrian’s features were somehow soft and defined at the same time, creating a near otherworldliness about him. Nick tried not to feel a spark of smug satisfaction at the way Adrian’s hair was even further mussed; unruly curls framing his head like a goddamn halo. "You good?"

“Absolutely.” Adrian grinned. He could still taste Nick in his mouth. “I’d consider this a very successful first date.” He fluttered his eyes with a shimmy of his shoulders. “Wouldn’t you? But, no, seriously. I’d really like to take you out. Properly.” 

A smile tugged at Nick’s lips, baring teeth, as a short laugh followed at the dorky gesture. Nick was met with both the strangest and strongest urge to kiss him again for it. He didn’t, instead lifting his hand to brush hair away from Adrian’s forehead.

“Maybe after I get back,” Adrian leaned his head back on the seat, gazing lovingly at Nick, “we can figure something out?”

“Yeah.” Nick wasn’t even sure what a proper date even meant. Yet for some unfathomable reason, he almost found himself wanting to agree nonetheless. He dropped his arm between them, resting back on the console. “I’ll think about it.” Nick wet his lips and leaned his head back a bit, hair falling back against his forehead. “So am I driving myself home, or do you want to be the one to do that?”

"I'll drive you back." Adrian gave Nick a final peck on the lips before exiting out of the passenger's side.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Adrian,” Nick whispered as the slick of Adrian’s tongue brushed against his own. “We’ve gotta… stop…” His eyes were glossy under the faint light of the streetlamp just outside the window. Nick kissed him again deeply, swallowing the moans that came from the other. Nick shuddered. “Okay… okay…” he panted. He slackened his grip on Adrian’s shirt and pressed his palms flat against Adrian’s shoulders, pushing him back. If they didn’t stop now, Nick was at serious risk of kissing him for another half hour. Or having a repeat of earlier.

“Okay,” Adrian agreed, nodding. “Stopping now.” His hand caught the back of Nick’s head, and he tugged him back for another kiss that left both of them dizzy. 

“Not fair.” Nick uttered against his lips; the slow brush of Adrian’s over his own could be addicting if he wasn’t careful. The last time Nick was head over heels for someone, it didn’t end well. His hands were shaky as he cupped Adrian’s face between them, thumbs grazing over his cheekbones. Nick gave him a pointed look before he quickly darted in to press a final kiss to the side of his mouth. “That’s all you get,” he murmured, a slight grin pulling at his lips as he finally worked up the strength to leave his ass alone and settle back into the passenger's seat.

“Am I going to see you again?”

Nick dragged a hand through his messy hair and straightened his work uniform. His previously crisp button down shirt was wrinkled all to hell. “Maybe.” His hand grasped for the handle of the door, pushing it open. 

He heard the roll down of Adrian’s window before he even reached it. He ducked his head down to say goodbye, but he didn’t have a chance to get the words out as he felt Adrian’s hand wrap around his forearm, tugging him gently downward.

A gasp caught in Nick’s throat, but his head automatically dipped down. His eyes darted to Adrian’s lips, like he hadn’t just spent the better part of the night finding out exactly what they felt like. A half-groan half-laugh escaped him as he pressed their lips together through the open window. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

“Get out of here,” Nick whispered raspily. “You’ve got a plane to catch.” Nick reached through the window, brushing back Adrian’s hair away from his eyes, before giving it an impromptu ruffle. “Good luck on your thing,” he murmured before stepping away from him, finally turning on his heel to head back to his apartment. He could feel Adrian’s eyes on him until he was out of sight. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Nick was as quiet as Nick could possibly be as he entered the silent apartment. He barely got through the door before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Adrian: miss me yet?

His stomach filled with fucking butterflies at the sight of his name and the grin that spread across Nick’s face made his cheeks hurt. Thank God his brothers were asleep right now. He’d never hear the end of it.

Nick just stared at the phone for a moment, back pressing against the closed front door. He was still grinning to himself as he tapped out a reply.

Nick: you wish. Nick: goodnight Adrian.

[sexydoffyman]

can you do smth about monmy issues? if not, its okay. i mean i understand this isnt specific at all and this might be real difficult without information

WHERE IS SHE

general: angst

characters: Valeria Garza

A/N: Hope ya like it!🦂

Since the day of your marriage, you were inseparable. You would take a bullet for her and she would do the same. You’d lie to get her out of trouble. She’d steal to get you the stuff you want. You’d be by her side no matter what.

You trust her with your life. When she told you that you need to move. You moved. When she told you she needed money. You got her the exact amount she needed. She promised you never had to work again. You trusted her and she fulfilled her promise. You fell in love with a criminal. You fell first. She fell harder.

As years go by, no couple can go without an argument. Unfortunately, you also sometimes argue. Sometimes she had a bad day working. Maybe she lost a lot of money. But it was never anything that you couldn’t resolve.

You would do anything to get you two to make up again. It’s been a week. Usually, you two have been very much in love again, but not this time. She yelled her heart out, and so did you. She said some very hurtful things, but one stuck out the most.

“I could’ve been happier with someone else!” She said it in such a mocking way too. It felt like she truly didn’t care. You were so angry for the past few days, but now you’d do anything to make things end. You wanted to apologise for everything and anything that you have done. Sadly, Valeria was nowhere to be found.

She usually told you when she was going to disappear for a while, but this time you got no warning. You thought that something happened to her. You were worried sick. The sentence was stuck in your head.

Your mother told you the same exact thing many times. You always endured it, knowing deep inside that she will never love you. You always wanted her love. She was the only one you had. You lost her before she could tell you anything.

You were scared. You hoped that she would return in one piece. You knew how your mother ended up. You were desperate. It has been two weeks now, and there were still no signs of her. Did she decide to leave, did she die? You called her. Texted her. Nothing worked. It has been a month.

You haven’t gotten a single text from her. You were silently hoping that a miracle would occur and bring her back. You searched for her many times by now. Every day you went searching for her.

This day was no different. You went out, got breakfast and started your search. You decided to go to the end of a nearby river. It was a spot where you two met. Your mind didn’t let you go there, but you thought that maybe she would be there. That she missed you.

It was nothing beautiful. Just the river going into a canal under a bridge that looked like it might collapse anytime soon. You walked to it, music playing in your ears. The atmosphere changed. You walked up to the bridge.

She was there! She was there the whole time! You’d be exploding with emotion. You’d be jumping around with happiness.

But you couldn’t. You could only watch her corpse float on the shallow water. Her head would bump into the canal every now and then. You walked closer, wondering how you didn’t notice that horrid smell. Her back was filled with shots. She lost her shoes. She was on her stomach so you decided to turn her around.

What you looked at wasn’t recognisable. At this point, she had to have been soaking in that water for weeks. Somehow, her phone was on the land. Like her arm was dragging on the land the whole time, the river carried her body down here. Surprisingly, it wasn’t broken.

You turned it on and put in the password. You were the only one who she told. You saw her messaging app. It had a chat open. It was a chat with you. You noticed that she was writing something. Tears fell as you read the message that was written so hurriedly. In her last moments, she managed to put everything, that she wanted you to know, in there.

“Miss you sorry will die no cry money in safe live i love”

[buubonita]

budbonita. fellow horrortale connoisseur. opinions on the horrortale game that came out this jolly holly eve,,,,,,, me personally i am very calm and relaxed (eye twitch) 🙂

Hello, Tryglybud! Its good to see you again in my ask box :3c okay lets het to the point shall we?

THERE IS SPOILERS ON THIS, so have that on mind before READING!!!

WARNING FOR child death mention, decapitation mention.

That said (rubs my little fly hands)

If there's one thing I really liked about Horrortale is that SAS takes elements from the original game and re-routes them to fit the story. The charm of Horrortale is that it's precisely an alternate timeline that you can believe will happen without problems. A neutral route that turns into the living hell of monsters.

Anyway, now to point out the little things I liked.

The dark twist of Sans' Iceezs puzzle! In the original the joke is that you can't find any of the words that are written (the fucking puzzle is not doing the puzzle if you want to pass it. It's literally doing nothing lol) but here you literally HAVE to find the words to advance. I found it funny because if you've played UT your first instinctive action is to do nothing! It's like that Papyrus puzzle and the colored tiles that you don't expect to be relevant and then it turns out that it was! Just cute, thanks SAS.

The music! the overall atmosphere is super eerie and ominous, the opening song for waterfall is simple and sounds like still water. It gives you the feeling that you're in dead ground. Like the genocidal route in waterfall and its theme, but again, SAS USES the game's foundations and directs them into their own story YYYYYY OUAGHAHA I LOVE IT! Do you think Aliza inhales the dust in the air while walking?

Goner Kid!'s dialogue is literally a reversal of what one of Gaster's followers says about living in a world where everything is exactly the same but you don't exist in it. In this case, SAS AGAIN redirects and gives new meaning to phrases and details from the game for Horrortale.

The underground would probably have been saved if Sans didn't exist, that is, if Sans had decided to die for all of them! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH I'M REALLY SMILING LIKE A LUNATIC. I love, LOVE the importance SAS gives to the source material considering Horrortale is a timeline and not an AU! It adds another layer of depth and reinforces the plot a lot; you who played the game and knew the story and grew fond of these characters are now witnessing the suffering that YOU as a player caused in one of your games!

Onion san submerged in that pit of black water was scary, I really expected him to come out of there to kill me when I first saw him (and I wanted that to happen, for him to jump out and kill us why not? >:3). His exchange with Aliza is sweet and adorable considering how scary he managed to look at the beginning haha. Horrortale is still a sad story even though it has scary elements.

The painting on the wall of waterfall reminded me of that thing Alphys created to rip out Horror's magic eye, although the description says it seems to be from a creature. It's probably ambiguous on purpose.

Aliza's deaths are brutal. I died with River Person for the first time and I felt bad for Aliza, poor thing was stripped down to the bone! A gruesome death. The rabid Temmies! I loved that they were included, their dialogue is simple but works well and feels in character. She was decapitated, MY POOR GIRL! Devored, impaled, drowned, this girl wont stop going through the most horrorific DEATHS!

And that's another thing with Horrortale, they all feel in character just like their original versions! Sans is still a joker, only his psychosis has made him more violent, more sadistic and prone to darker humor (I'd eat Horrortale's little black humor animated shorts with fries). He also keeps the tendency to beat up children, his character is consistent and that's why he's my favorite.

There's such a thick and obvious parallel with Aliza and Horror when he says "how much do you think your life is worth?" I mean, if he's on her case maybe it's because he wasn't in her shoes for long (although Aliza doesn't wear shoes!)

And I'm not saying Killer or Dust aren't, they're also wonderful in their own way but they're maybe very different approaches, but they work (and I love them too, believe me).

My only complaint with this little game is that it's very short once you figure out all the puzzles! But I can't complain when we get more of the comic in JANUARY (my birthday month!!). I look forward to more story and seeing more characters soon. This was a little treat i will treasure with all my heart.

[lavenlady]

Also lady, you can do, Yandere Red Blitz, Cielo and Muscle hyde x Female Cardbot, (but separated), where they are married and the reader was pregnant but when they fell to Porcaka, at one time the reader gave birth to the babies who were triplets, everything was fine but when the food ran out everyone was sealed including the babies who were sealed but separated and after 4,000 years, the babies woke up but separated and in different places, the team tries to find them due to news from one of them, but things get ugly when a strong storm started causing them to hurry to find them, and catch two of the babies who that one was being dragged by a river and the other below some fallen trees but when they try to find the last one they find it but on top of a large tree that was holding on tightly to the wood while it was covered by the leaves to protect itself from the heavy rain, the father tries to talk him into jumping towards him but the baby only cries because of the loud noises of the rain but then after calming him down and making him jump the baby jumps into his arms before the branch breaks, but now they have to take care of the babies since because of the rain the babies became seriously ill and they need to be warm while they are given medicine.

It is so far the longest request I have gotten. I hope I have reached your expectations Zinnia! Enjoy!

☸ Separated ☸ | Yan!Red Blitz/Cielo/Musclehyde x Fem!Cardbot!Reader

You were living a peaceful life with your lover, you both supported and loved each other dearly. With that feeling came the want to start a family together. It was a success. Now carrying the young was hard for you, they were triplets, who took up your space and time.

During the early times of waiting you, your lover and his crew were tasked with piloting the Spellanza. Later you have fallen to a planet named Earth, a place named Porcaka. There you have met Mukara and spend your days there.

While you were staying, new lifes were welcomed into the world, your three little Cardbots. You have given Mukara the chance to name them as a token of your friendship. Everything was peaceful, until you had to be sealed to preserve energy.

At first your little family was together, but the transporter made a mistake and you with your triplets had gone missing. You were found by some collector that liked to find and keep valuable things. Soon Crest had heard about a mysterious stone tablet in a private collection and decided to buy it off for a good price.

Your card activated thanks to the Metal Breath and so you came online. At first you were dazed, looking around your new surroundings with interest. Then you realised, where were your little ones? As the information sank in you started panicking, frantically looking around, searching for them.

You were nearing your breaking point when Jun promised to find them. You were so happy you picked him up and spun him around in circles, thanking him again and again. You agreed to be sealed by him, surrendering yourself without a fight.

You have met your lover again after 4,000 long years. You practically thew yourself at him, crying at how your little ones went missing. He could only try to console you, which was hard to do when you were crying your optics out. He told you they would surely find them, by any means necessary.

Crest picked up some rumors regarding close areas to your finding place. Everyone set off as soon as they heard about them. You were going to be looking for tablets, until a video leaked that the triplets, older but still children, have been released and were clearly panicked. You nearly jumped in after seeing this, only stopped by your lover, visibly agitated as well, but still in the right mind.

You were then thinking as to what to do now, but a storm came, a very strong one at that, which made you speed up your search drastically. You quickly found the first one in the river, they were reaching their limit, nearly letting the flow to take them. You managed to take them out of the water without any problems.

The second little one got stuck under the trees that have fallen because of the strong wind. Thanks to the help of other Cardbots they were easily gotten out. They were shaken by the experience, immediately hugging into you as you took them into your arms.

It had taken you a while to find the third and the last of triplets. They had climbed up a gigantic tree, trying to escape from the heavy rain, even covered themselves using leaves. They wanted to get down as soon as they saw their parents, but thanks to being scared of loud sounds they simply couldn't bring themselves to do so. Your lover took the matter into his servos and calmed them down and instructed to not care about anything and jump.

They did, just before the branch broke, and were safely returned to their parents, all of them shaken by the events, crying even, but safe at least. Unfortunately the triplets fell ill because of the harsh weather. Now you have to stay in the Auto Shop to keep your little ones warm and help cure them till they get better with the support of your lover, who doesn't dare to leave your side for even a second. He needed to keep you safe. He can't lose you and his little Cardbots, not again.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

( I didn't exactly catch in what context you ment 'separated' at the beginning, so I tried my best. I did it as neutral as I could. Hope you liked it! )

(Master list)

( Request away! )

[mariacallous]

A week after Harvard University essentially told the Trump Administration to go jump into the Charles River, there are signs that its defiance may be rattling the White House. On Friday, the Times, citing anonymous sources familiar with the matter, reported that the letter containing the Administration’s demands for a top-to-bottom revamp of Harvard, which even the conservative editorial page of the Wall Street Journal described as “effectively a federal receivership,” was sent without proper authorization. According to the story, the sender was one of the members of the Presidential task force on antisemitism, which is leading the crusade against top research universities. The Times also quoted a White House official, the senior policy strategist May Mailman, who said negotiations between the two sides could still resume.

Whether or not Donald Trump will blink, as he did a couple of weeks ago when his punitive tariff proposals caused eruptions in the stock and bond markets, isn’t entirely clear yet. But it seems like the Administration was taken aback by Harvard’s refusal to buckle before the President’s threats in the same way that Columbia University and certain law firms did. Perhaps some people in the White House now realize that, even as it has halted more than two billion dollars in federal funding to Harvard, it has taken on an adversary that is rich and powerful enough to fight back.

As a tax-exempt not-for-profit, Harvard doesn’t have any shareholders, but, like other big charitable organizations and major corporations, it releases an annual report on its finances. The latest one, which covers its 2024 financial year, said that the university “generated an operating surplus of $45 million on a revenue base of $6.5 billion.” That pot of money was used to finance an institution that encompasses Harvard College, twelve graduate schools, and the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study. In total, Harvard has close to twenty-five thousand students and employs about twenty thousand people.

Last year, roughly $685 million of Harvard’s funding—about eleven per cent—came from the federal government in research grants and other transfers. That was a large sum, obviously. But about $2.4 billion, more than three times as much, came in distributions from Harvard’s own massive endowment, which was worth $53.2 billion at the end of the year—the largest of any school in the country. “Our financial resources, built over years through disciplined planning and sound financial management, allow Harvard’s schools and units to withstand shocks,” the annual report said. “They also provide the capacity to invest in new programs and pedagogies, fostering the academic excellence that is both Harvard’s hallmark and its aim.”

Trump’s attempt to undermine Harvard’s independence is probably the biggest shock the university has faced since Harvard College was founded, in 1636; shortly after its establishment, the school received a transformative deathbed bequest from the Puritan John Harvard. Federal funding in the second half of the twentieth century helped build up Harvard and other private schools into big research institutions. But élite universities have also gone to great lengths to insure that they have enormous pools of endowment wealth to draw upon. In the past few decades, their riches and tax-free status have attracted attention from critics on the left and the right, who accuse them of prioritizing their endowments over all else, favoring legacy applicants to reward donors, and failing to provide adequate support for their local communities. Politicians in true-blue Cambridge and Boston have long been pushing Harvard to pay more in property taxes; last year, two members of the Massachusetts state legislature proposed a 2.5-per-cent annual excise tax on Harvard’s endowment, with the proceeds to be used to subsidize education for lower and middle-income families.

But now that Trump is shutting off funding, or at least threatening to, at sixty schools, Harvard’s endowment has taken on a new purpose, positioning the school to be the first bulwark against a rapidly advancing front. When Harvard’s lawyers, in a letter responding to the White House’s ultimatums, said that the school was “not prepared to agree to demands that go beyond the lawful authority of this or any administration,” they were basically telling the Administration that they would see it in court, where the university would be able to make a strong case that the government’s actions are illegal. Nevertheless, in order for the university to sustain itself during the lengthy legal battle likely to come, it will need to make up for a big funding gap, and that is where its $53.2-billion war chest comes in. “Harvard’s endowment is not there just to be envied or admired,” Lawrence Summers, the Harvard economist who is a former president of the university and a former U.S. Treasury Secretary, told me. “It’s there to be used, and it is hard to imagine a better use than maintaining the continuity of its operations at a moment of great threat like the present.”

Although John Harvard’s bequest to the school set an early precedent, it wasn’t until the Gilded Age of the late nineteenth century that business magnates such as John D. Rockefeller, who helped finance the creation of the University of Chicago, made large gifts to educational institutions a philanthropic tradition. And it wasn’t until 1917 that Congress created tax deductions for individual donations to not-for-profit institutions, such as churches and universities. By 1920, Harvard’s endowment was the biggest in the country, a position it has never relinquished, Bruce Kimball, an emeritus professor of education at Ohio State who is the co-author of the book “Wealth, Cost, and Price in American Higher Education,” told me last week.

For decades, university endowments invested their funds ultraconservatively, mainly through bonds and mortgages. In 1951, however, the treasurer of Harvard, Paul C. Cabot, took the bold step of investing more than half of its money in stocks, which, in the long term, can yield considerably higher returns at the price of higher risk. In the nineteen-nineties, under the direction of David Swensen, who had a Yale Ph.D. in economics and who served a stint at the swashbuckling investment bank Salomon Brothers, the Yale endowment pioneered an even more amped-up strategy, investing in hedge funds, private-equity partnerships, and venture-capital firms. After seeing Yale’s returns race ahead, the Harvard Management Company, an in-house financial firm that handles the university’s endowment, has in recent years adopted the Yale model, both in its asset choices and the vast sums it pays its employees. (The strategy became popular at schools all over the country, from the University of California to Bowdoin College.) As of 2024, more than seventy per cent of the Harvard endowment’s money was held in hedge funds and private equity, with only fourteen per cent directly in stocks and five per cent in bonds. In 2022, according to an analysis of tax filings by Harvard Magazine, Nirmal (Narv) Narvekar, the Harvard Management Company’s chief executive, received $9.6 million in current and deferred compensation, and six of his colleagues received more than four million dollars.

With financial markets having enjoyed a long boom, 2022 apart, the Harvard endowment has generated an average annual return of 9.3 per cent over the past seven years, a figure that is comfortably higher than the returns generated by Vanguard’s global 60/40 index, which tracks the performance of the time-honored investment strategy of amassing a diversified portfolio of stocks and bonds. Combined with a flood of new donations from rich alumni and others, the endowment’s high returns have resulted in its value rising from $37.1 billion in 2017 to today’s figure of more than $50 billion. And, in the same period, its annual disbursements to the university have risen from $1.7 billion to $2.4 billion.

Despite these impressive figures, though, lately there has been some confusion about the extent to which Harvard and other universities with big endowments are able to access the large stores of wealth they contain. Facing pressure from students and politicians to use endowments to reduce sky-high tuition fees, university leaders have long emphasized that they largely consist of “restricted” funds that their donors gave to finance professorships, or libraries, or the maintenance of buildings, and which can’t be diverted to other uses. In its annual financial report, Harvard referred to the notion that endowments can be “accessed like checking accounts” as a “common misconception.”

It’s true that a good deal of the endowment’s money is tied up in ambitious projects linked to individual donors. In Allston, the Boston neighborhood that lies directly across the Charles River from Harvard Square, in 2020, Harvard opened a grand new building that houses the John A. Paulson School of Engineering and Applied Sciences—Paulson is a hedge-fund billionaire—and later this year it is planning to open a conference center named after the private-equity baron David Rubenstein. Over all, restricted funds make up about eighty per cent of Harvard’s endowment. But it’s hardly strapped for accessible funds: the endowment also contains nearly ten billion dollars in unrestricted donations, which, subject to some legal caveats, the university has more flexibility to utilize.

In addition, Harvard has about two billion dollars of liquid investments, such as Treasury bonds, which are outside of the endowment. Furthermore, it has the ability to raise large sums of money in the credit markets, where it has a top-notch credit rating. Just two weeks ago, on the eve of defying the Trump Administration, it announced that it would issue $750 million in bonds, which is more than the total funding it received from the federal government last year. Although it might seem a bit strange for a university with an endowment worth more than fifty billion dollars to go out and borrow money, the bond issuance was perfectly sensible and is likely to be repeated if the dispute drags on: it enabled Harvard to raise a lot of cash without conducting a fire sale of any of its assets, many of which are illiquid.

In short, Harvard has a number of ways to access and mobilize the wealth in its endowment. Normally, the university’s endowment aims to distribute about five per cent of its over-all portfolio on an annual basis. But, in an emergency, it could almost certainly afford to disburse an extra billion dollars a year, say, until 2028. Depending on what happens in the financial markets, such a move wouldn’t even necessarily involve running down its portfolio, although its growth would be restricted.

To put it another way, Harvard can afford to stand up to Trump, at least for now. (If the halt to federal funding dragged on indefinitely, that would obviously be a different matter.) This surely explains why, in the course of the past week, the President has been escalating his threats and targeting its endowment directly by suggesting in a social-media post that Harvard should lose its tax-exempt status. According to reporting by CNN and the Washington Post, Treasury officials have asked the Internal Revenue Service to act upon this idea. “There is total extralegality here,” Summers pointed out. “In my time, anyone who walked into the Treasury was told that getting involved in the treatment of an individual taxpayer or individual institution was an absolutely forbidden thing—like taking a big bribe. The idea that the President of the United States would give the instruction publicly, and that it would then be acted upon by Treasury officials, would have been unthinkable in any other Administration.”

In the era of Trump 2.0, previously unthinkable things happen every day. (According to Semafor, the Administration is also planning to restrict the investments of big university endowments, Harvard’s included.) To some right-wing activists inside and outside the Administration, bringing the Ivy League to heel is part of a broader project to smash liberalism and realign the country’s values and major institutions on a conservative basis—an American “war of position,” to use the Gramscian phrase. For Trump—a proud graduate of Wharton, even if, according to his estranged niece Mary L. Trump, he got another person to sit for his SAT (an allegation that the White House denied)—the agenda seems personal: punishing institutions that he perceives as political opponents and demanding public acts of submission, in addition to riling up his base and diverting attention from a weakening economy.

In this instance, though, the Administration is not attempting to trample on powerless civil servants or migrants, or pusillanimous law firms, or universities that don’t have as much money as Harvard does. For whatever reason, it has picked on an adversary the likes of which Trump and his billionaire allies can well recognize: one that is as rich as Croesus. For the education sector as a whole, and for the preservation of academic freedom, Kimball pointed out to me, the decision to target Harvard may turn out to be a fortunate miscalculation. “But Harvard also needs friends,” Kimball added. “It needs other schools and other institutions to stand with it.” For institutions that don’t have anything like the financial resources that Harvard does, this may not be an easy option. Still, assuming that Harvard goes ahead with a legal battle to repulse the Administration’s assault, its actions could have important ramifications not just for other universities but also for broader efforts to resist Trump’s encroachments. At a time when many people in higher education, and elsewhere, had been losing hope, that’s a positive development. As hints emerge that the White House may now be looking for Harvard to accept a squalid deal that compromises its independence and affords the President enough concessions for him to declare victory, the leaders of America’s oldest and wealthiest institution of higher learning must stand firm.

[flemingsgirl]

We got this pt. 3

Masterlist

As the month flew by, Viv takes big steps in her recovery and forward her being able to play again. With you along the hard and long way, she found strength to keep going, staying positive. Always keeping her occupied, she visits your games, or you stay with her on the straps as Arsenal was playing. Marking the month after her surgery, you guys went on several dates, in restaurants, museums, or casual strolls around parks. You two decide to take the next step and decide to level your relationship to girlfriends.

"I’m heading to an appointment, but afterwards I’m all yours.”

"What kind of?"

"Nothing bad, just with the manager."

"Okay, liefje. See you soon. Any wishes for lunch?”

"Anything you make tastes delicious, surprise me.”

"All right, doing my best."

"You are the best,” you click your tongue.

"Such a charmer.”

"I’ve got so much more. Maybe I’ll show you later but now I gotta go see you. "

"I keep my eyes open.” You can hear her smile through the phone, how she squeezes her eyes shut and her lips turning up, so her dimples are visible.

Beth and Katie came over for some company they’re looking forward to see you 😊

Over the months Beth was a true friend to Vivianne as she understood her in every situation and could help with emotions different to how you could help her, saying sweet nothings and motivational, showing her the bright side, the positive, keep her going. Katie being Viv’s biggest fan and number one supporter, she was there every step as well cheering as the next milestone was reached.

You ring the bell, and second after, you were greeted by a brunette woman, “Y/N’s here!” Katie shouts back into the house.

"You expecting someone else?” You step next to Viv at the kitchen island where she sits on the bar stool and sling an arm around her back, kissing her cheek, “your other girlfriend?”

"No, no, the girl ordered us food.”

"I’m not even getting your delicious food?” You turn towards the guests. “Thank you guys.”

"Cry me a river,” Katie smirks.

"So what happened at your appointment?”

"Thank you Viv great question,” you face Beth. “Didn’t know I’d only get you in a trio.”

“They asked where you were I told them,” a laughter escape her lips and you shake your head chuckling, pecking her lips. Beth and Katie made vomiting sounds in union.

"Not a big deal, just some adjustments on my contract, my vision for the future.”

"Your big dreams,” Viv remarks, bringing her arms around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing your neck.

It was difficult to get into the building of Arsenal without any of her teammates noticing. You had everything planned. Todays the day Viv has her first training on the field, another big step in her recovery. Changing into your kit, you rub your palms on your shorts, taking a shaky breath. You step out of the room. As you arrive at the pitch, the team is standing in a big circle, chatting about their last days, laughing and enjoying. Your girlfriend soon sets her feet on the grass as well, all cheering her up as she begins to run her tracks. Taking further steps to the group, Katie is the first to catch you, and she runs off to you. “Y/N!” throwing her arms around you and jumping against you. You caught the Irish woman and your stability before falling over.

"Wouldn’t believe you’d be this excited to see me,” you laugh against her shoulder.

A hand rests on your shoulder and Katie gets down on the ground again. “What are you doing here?” she observes you from head to toe. “In Arsenal clothes that aren’t mine?”

"Surprise,” you open your arms, shaking your hands. “If you don’t wanna, I can leave.”

"No, it is indeed a surprise but wonderful,” she lays her arms around your neck and pulls you closer.

"We probably should get going.”

"I understand,” she huffs.

"We’ll cuddle after training gorgeous,” you wink at her before leaving for your first session.

It’s the 22th of October you made it in the staring line on the right wing, it was an intense game with two scored bangers from Katie McCabe. You made important sprints and crosses helped the defense and had a few chances yourself, but they were blocked in any way.

You groaned on your latest chance in the additional minute, but the resentment was out of your body as you’ve made your way back in your half and saw Viv stand at the sideline. In the short sequence, you could lay an eye on her she struggled with tears, her lips pressed together, one dimple showing. She was subbed in, and on the next attack, she was involved. Getting a cross from you, the goalkeeper stopped her shoot. You made my way over to her, and you two high fived. “Good idea, keeper sucks.”

"The cross was amazing, do another.” You hold her your thumb up and jog back into position.

The final whistle blows, and you run towards Vivianne, jumping on her back and sling your arms around her neck. Your head rests on hers. She piggybacks you around the pitch as she hugs the other plays. Then she lets you down, “now give me a proper celebration.” You take her face in your hands and pull her closer, connecting your lips. She drapes her hands on your waist, and after you pull apart, you embrace her as tight as you possible could.

“I’m so proud of you.” Your girlfriend doesn’t move an inch. Her mouth fell apart, and her eyes wide open. “You're not happy you're back?” You snip your fingers in front of her face. “Vivianne? Are you okay?” A hand on each side of her upper arms, you slightly shake her. “Youre scaring me.”

"You just kissed me.

"I mean you're my girlfriend.

"But.. but were still in the stadium,” she stutters, and your eyes widen as well.

"Shit.. shit.. I'm sorry if you didn’t .. that wasn’t what we wanted,” you clap your hands over your mouth.

"It's all right, liefje. It's fine.” She kisses you again.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 22

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

I took off my glasses and set them on my desk. I was going to have to face Lucy, even though, in that moment, I’d have given anything to run.  

I felt cornered whenever I was alone with her, especially now.  

 "I’ve been quite busy these..."   

She cut me off sharply, as only she could.  

 "Your pathetic little messages—I let those slide. But sending your intern to the site to avoid me? That’s something a four-year-old would do!"  she fumed, sitting down across from me.  

I looked down. She was absolutely right, and I knew it.  

 "Just to clear something up, Ona—you have a tongue, don’t you? You’ve proven to me you know how to use it quite well..."   

 "Thanks for the compliment,"  I said with a shy smile, trying to play along with her humor.  

But neither her eyes nor her lips softened. I decided to dive in.  

 "Listen, Lucy, I’m sorry I didn’t come by tonight. I need to step back this week."   

 "For what?"  she asked, her gaze fixed on me.  

 "To think!"   

She raised her eyebrows, exasperated.  

 "So we’re playing guessing games now, is that it?"   

 "Alessia asked me if we could get back together."   

I dropped the sentence abruptly, just like that.  

 "In Canada? You’re going to Canada?"  she asked, caught off guard.  

 "No, here. She’d stay if we got back together."   

A brief silence settled between us. She stared at me, seemingly searching for words. Then she squared her shoulders.  

 "So, all this was worth your little charade this week?"   

 "I don’t know, Lucy, okay? I’m a little lost right now. I didn’t want to be close to you this week to avoid complicating things!"   

 "Complicating things?"   

 "Yes! I mean our...relationship. Well, relationship—I don’t even know if that’s the right word. If I get back with Alessia, I..."   

I couldn’t even find the words. Everything was tangled up.  

 "I know what it means, Ona! It means our sexual relationship will be over. And so what?"   

Sexual relationship. She’d put it into words. That’s all our relationship amounted to. She added:  

 "Did you think I’d jump on you this week, that I wouldn’t be able to help myself? Grow up, Ona! I’m not your toy, do you understand that?"   

Her words were delivered in the coldest tone, and they chilled me to the bone. She was furious. Furious at my behavior, furious that I had dared to sideline her for a few days.  

 "You’re not my toy, Lucy, I..."   

 "Act like a professional. Show up for the damn meetings. We’ve got two weeks of work left! Don’t confuse everything—I can very well do without you, Ona. But can you manage without me?"  she said with cutting irony.  

It felt like she had slapped me.  

As I was about to respond, she was already on her feet and walking out.  

I had tears in my eyes. Tears from being crushed by Lucy without being able to defend myself. I was seething. I needed fresh air.  

A few minutes later, I left the office as well.  

On the way, I decided to stop by the river that ran through the city, in a park. The park where I had met Alessia for the first time.  

That was six years ago. I had fallen while jogging early in the morning. The person behind me laughed, which infuriated me. My first look at Alessia was one of pure annoyance. She smiled, helped me up, and sat me on a bench. My ankle was sore, and she checked to see if it was broken, explaining she was a medical intern. There was nothing wrong, but she suggested I visit her at the hospital if the pain persisted. She smiled again before leaving. Her eyes, her smile. I had been instantly charmed.  

I went back to the hospital. I wasn’t in pain anymore—I just wanted to see her. That was the beginning of our five-year relationship.  

Thinking of that memory, my body, and especially my heart, warmed despite the cool wind brushing my neck.  

At that precise moment, I no longer thought of Lucy’s hurtful words or her cold eyes. That relationship was going nowhere; it only messed with my head. It was just a fleeting passion—a sexual fling, as Lucy had rightly put it. Nothing more.  

I wanted to be in her arms—Alessia’s arms.  

I had made my decision.  

[googleitlol]

After Wukong rejoins the group, things between him and Dove get a lot better. Sure, it's more awkward at first, but a whole less violent. They can actually be… friendly with each other? Even though the others get used to it, the change in dynamic is almost unnerving at first. I like to imagine whenever two of them, maybe Pigsy and Sandy have a moment to talk on their own, they make sure what they're seeing isn't some hallucination. Kind of a, 'You see this too, right?' moment.

Anyway, Wukong is having a blast now. Not only is he back, but he also lets himself indulge in teasing/getting payback on Pigsy for the Bone Demon incident. One great example is when he goads Pigsy into patrolling a potentially dangerous mountain. When the pig demon goes to take a nap instead, Wukong makes sure Tripitaka knows just how much effort he put into slacking off before he returns.

And then… well, that's where the trouble begins.

Dove Masterlist:

Landscaping

“Wukong really is in a meddling mood today.” Wujing remarks from where he sits next to you, the two of you basking in the midday sun with Tripitaka and Ao Lie. Your group is stationed by a large tree at the base of a wide mountain, waiting the return of two of the monk’s older disciples. After being warned of the danger posed by the area you all were meant to trek through next, Zhu Bajie was sent to go and patrol the area.

Unfortunately for the pig, Sun Wukong decided to tag along. “It has been some time that we’ve been travelling since our last encounter with a demon. I think the lack of serious threat has left him bored.” You shrug in response to the river demon’s observations. “If anything that old woodcutter told us was true, his boredom may be coming to an end.” He hums, looking out towards where his brothers took off.

“I hope for the sake of my heart, it doesn’t.” Tripitaka shudders, his tired gaze turned skywards. “I have had my fair share of demons trying to eat me, this never happened back home. I just want to get past one mountain without being caught by any monsters or upsetting anyone we shouldn’t.”

You can’t help but feel sorry for the monk. In the time you’ve been in travel with him, the sheer amount of demons that have looked to make him their meal has been problematic. With how much farther you have to go, you feel like saying it won’t happen anymore would be a lie. “If you want, Tripitaka, I can use my gift for a bit while we wait for Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie to return.” You offer, getting up to offer him a hand.

The monk shakes his head, swatting at a fly too close to his face. “Thank you, I think I should be able to manage for now.”

You offer a polite smile, mimicking his actions when you hear buzzing by your ear. “Alright, just let me know if–” The insect grows bolder, fluttering about your face. “Ugh! This annoying little…”

You notice the tiny monkey’s tail before the fly lands on your nose.

Sandy’s head tilts to the side when you go silent. “What is it?”

“…Sun Wukong?” You blink, and in an instant, the monkey returns to his form with a jump into the air. The shock of the action is enough for you to shout, falling back as the demon lands.

The Monkey King cackles, crouching down when you sit up. “You caught on faster than Pigsy!” He smiles, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Maybe Sandy was wrong in calling him meddling. At the moment, ‘rowdy’ fit him better.

“Where is he?” You use your finger to push him out of your face by his forehead, the King cooperating and stepping back to let you up.

“Still rehearsing what to say.” He answers while you dust yourself off. “He decided to take a quick nap instead of scouting, like I knew he would. I left him once he finished practising what to say in case any of us ask what he found.”

The monkey shifts into his younger brother, muckrake and all. “‘There was a rocky cave, with three sections!” He imitates, albeit dramatically. “There are wretched monsters and wild animals at every turn! We better turn back and return home, I’m sure my wife and father-in-law have been missing me.’” Sandy chuckles a little under his breath while you cross your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic of him, don’t you think?” Monkey King shifts back, seemingly still struggling to regain his composure.

It’s only made worse when Pigsy returns, spouting about the very same words Sun Wukong had already shared. He seems quite confident in himself as he prattles on. “There are wretched monsters and wild animals at every turn! We better turn back and–”

“–return home, I’m sure my wife and father-in-law have been missing me.” Wukong finishes in unison with his brother, the pig frowning when he does. The Monkey King scoffs. “Practise really did make those lines perfect, didn’t they?”

“Wha–?! But how did you…”

“Lying about going on patrol?” Wukong crosses his arms, giving Pigsy a pointed look. “I’d say that’s worth three strokes of my trusted staff. What do you say, Pigsy?” The pig demon looks at him wide wide eyes, almost shaking when he mentions his staff.

Luckily enough for him, Tripitaka intervenes. “There will be no beating anyone today.” He looks between his disciples, Wukong looking a bit disappointed while Pigsy sighs in relief. “Bajie, please go out and scout properly this time?”

“Ugh, fine.” The pig snorts, grumbling before he turns to leave back towards the mountain. The disappointment on the Monkey King’s face melts into a smug grin as he watches his brother march back to do his job properly this time.

While he scouts, the rest of you find yourselves waiting by the base of the mountain. You admit, being able to sit for a while instead of marching through trails of wilderness for hours is a nice change of pace. However, it quickly becomes old the longer you have to wait. Sitting with the horse, then leaning against the tree for shade, to the idle conversations that would occur between you and the others, you were getting bored.

An hour drags by, and then another. One can only admire the clouds in the sky for so long before becoming restless. Taking the horse to graze helps alleviate the itch to keep going somewhat, but it doesn’t help for long. You half-wonder if Bajie decided to take another nap somewhere else, but would he really risk getting caught like that a second time? Maybe something worse might have happened?

After a third hour passes, Tripitaka begins to voice your concerns. “Bajie has been gone for a while now. You don’t think something could have happened to him, do you?”

Sun Wukong gives out a hearty laugh from his spot in the tree you sit by with Sandy, resting on a low-hanging branch. “That pig is such a coward, he’d run at the first sign of danger.” He falls back, his tail hooking around the branch to face his master. “If he’s been gone for this long, he must be taking his time patrolling the mountain.”

“Still… something doesn’t feel right.” The monk frowns, his eyes fixed on the mountain. You frown, understanding the uneasiness in your friend. If Pigsy really was fine, would he be taking all this extra time to comb through the path? You half-expected him to return with some haste after being exposed by Wukong, to make up for slacking off.

You look over to Wukong, the monkey quickly catching your eye as you nod towards Tripitaka. “What?”

“Maybe one of us could check on Bajie?” Your brows raise a bit as your suggestion is made.

The Monkey King rolls his eyes, looking back at the worried expression from Tripitaka and quickly letting out a sigh. “How about this? Pigsy likes to move at a snail’s pace on his own anyway, why don’t we all just go and catch up with him?” He suggests, though the annoyance in his voice is far from well-hidden.

Tripitaka hums, glancing at you. “With Wukong’s logic, whatever Pigsy has covered so far should be safe.” You shrug. Even if the path isn’t safe, if something happened to Bajie, Tripitaka still has Wujing and Wukong to protect him. Between the lot of you, whatever potential trouble the pig demon might find himself in can be dealt with swiftly.

The monk frowns, deep in thought, likely thinking over the situation just as you were doing. After a few moments, he relents. “We might as well, it will be better than sitting around doing nothing.” With his word, your group gets to their feet. With the monk mounting the horse and Sandy taking the lead, you set off to begin hiking up the mountain.

A tense silence fills the space between the group as you journey up the mountain. Everyone is on alert, watching for any movements in the shadows of shrubs, listening for footsteps. Each of you prepare yourselves for some sign of your friend, some sign you aren’t alone.

A shudder from Tripitaka makes you glance back at the monk. His eyes look from one side to the next, shuddering again with a worried frown. Sometimes you forget how on edge he can get, especially when told of nearby danger.

You make eye contact with Sun Wukong, nodding over to the monk. He looks back at his master while you shift into your dove form to rest on the man’s shoulder. You do your work, using your gift to put his mind more at ease.

He notices rather quickly, cracking a small smile before Wukong clears his throat. “Master, you needn’t be so worried. You know I will not let anything happen to you while I am here.” He jumps in front of the horse while he speaks, walking backwards so as to not stop the group.

“If any demons dare to show their wretched faces, it will only take a swing of my staff to send them down to the ten kings!” He boasts, taking his staff from his ear and extending it to spin the weapon in his hands. Facing forward, he scoops up a few rocks to throw into the air and uses his staff to bat them all into a tree further ahead. When he runs out of ammo, he throws the staff itself, impaling the tree through completely.

The monk blinks a few times as his disciple retrieves his signature weapon. “I really am fortunate to have him as my disciple, and not an enemy.”

“Take it from someone who has fought him, you are lucky to have never felt the pain from that staff.” Sandy laughs, and you find yourself amused as Wukong returns, flipping through the air.

He shows off a bit more as you continue on the path, showing off kicks and punching the air. At one point, he shatters a boulder you pass by with only his head. Is it a little over the top? Absolutely, but it does wonders to lift Tripitaka’s spirits. 

By the time Wukong is finished with his demonstration, the air is considerably lighter. He takes his place beside Tripitaka and the horse, looking up at you with a smirk. You give a quiet coo in response, thankful for his help in reassuring the monk of their safety. You have to say, with the jabs between you two being less frequent and of a more playful nature, working with the Monkey King is becoming easier than you ever thought it would be. Dare you say, sometimes it was even fun.

It isn’t as though you were unaware of his cleverness before– his more impulsive actions sometimes made it difficult to remember– but you find it easy for the two of you to bounce off each other’s ideas. Sure, there are times where his plans baffle you, but you found that trusting his plots usually works out well. Whether it’s in battle or in the midst of a ruse, even with something as simple as how you worked to help Tripitaka, the two of you are surprisingly good at coordinating together.

For some time, the hike is uneventful. There is still no sign of Pigsy, but before you can worry yourself with his whereabouts, you hear a distant cry further ahead on the path. Cries for help.

“That sounds like a man…” Wujing frowns, your group quickening their pace to find the source of the voice.

Up ahead, you spot a bush, an elderly man just behind it. “Someone, please! Save me!” He shouts, groaning in pain as he keeps a tight grip around his leg. The closer Tripitaka rides, the more you can see of him. He’s on his side, his clothing scratched and torn. His grey– almost silver– hair is a bushy mess. His leg looks mangled, twisted in the wrong direction and dressed in blood. “Please, you must help me! I cannot move!”

Tripitaka wastes no time in dismounting, crouching down to the man while you return to your human form. Sun Wukong is quick to join his master’s side. “What happened to you?” The monk frowns, inspecting the elder for any other concealed injuries.

“I am a daoist from the temple just west of here. I was travelling with my disciple before he and I were attacked by a tiger.” He explains, his breathing heavy from the pain of his wounds and spent energy. “It killed him and dragged him away. It left me for dead, but I am afraid it may return. I beg of you, please help me return to my temple, and I will be in your debt!”

“Of course we will help you.” Tripitaka offers the elder a kind smile, turning to call one of his disciples. “Sha Wujing, bring my horse here for this man to ride. We can accompany him to his temple together.”

The man hisses through his teeth, clutching onto his injured leg. “I cannot ride.” He is able to shift over enough to show a gaping wound on his inner thigh, a deep cut that runs down his leg and already looks to be infected.

Looking closer, you take a step to the man. “Here, let me have a look at it.” You move past Tripitaka to crouch down, but a hand grabs you by the arm before you can.

You look back to find Sun Wukong, his glare making you freeze. However, his eyes focus not on you, but the elderly man. He pulls you closer, leaning over to whisper. “The last time you healed anything physical, you were unconscious for hours.”

“You mean when you were blind?” You match his volume, the reminder getting him to actually look you in the eyes for a moment, just to give you an annoyed look. “Why are we whispering?” His eyes narrow at the question, though he turns his attention back to the injured daoist before you can get an answer.

“Don’t waste your talents, Dove.” Is all you get before he crouches down in front of the old man himself. “If he is not fit to ride, let me carry him.”

A chill runs down your spine from his tone alone. His previously relaxed posture is now rigid, hostile. His smile to the man feels more like a threat than an invitation. You, Tripitaka, and Sandy look to each other from the sides of your eyes, even the horse looks concerned.

If the man notices the clear aggression in the offer, he does not show it.  “How kind of you, hairy-one.” Despite how uneasy you feel, you hold in a snort of laughter at the man’s words and Wukong’s look of offence.

“Hairy-one?” He frowns, the old man smiling.

“Yes, please. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to carry me.” He responds, and the monkey demon lets out a short huff.

He reaches down, getting the daoist up and onto his back while Tripitaka gives you a look. You quickly put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch. If he’s acting like this, something must have tipped him off about this man.” You keep your voice low, the monk nodding in response.

“Thank you, I just didn’t want to leave him on the side of the road. Do you think he might be…” He trails off, looking back at the disciple and daoist.

“You just stay close to Sandy, I’ll call out if anything happens. If I do, ride off as fast as you can and hide.” You instruct, following his sight to the two before Tripitaka gets back onto the horse. You and Sandy were talking about how quiet these last few days have been, maybe some monster overheard you and decided to keep you on your toes.

It’s silent as you continue westward, unease wrapping around the group as you go. You make sure to glance over to the old man every now and then, keeping him and Wukong in your sights. Even when they begin to slow a bit to readjust every now and then, you stay by their side. Tripitaka and Wujing begin to get farther ahead, which is honestly a good thing if this man isn’t who he says he is.

You catch his eyes a few times, giving you a strange look. It gives you bumps along your arms, and you tell yourself not to reach for any of your weapons. He hasn’t done anything yet. You see him give the same look to Tripitaka, making you feel even better the further he and Sandy get from the stranger.

After some time, the monk and his disciple are so far off, they are no longer in your line of sight. Wukong pauses again to adjust his grip on the daoist before humming. “Dove, would it be alright if I bugged you for something?”

“What is it?” You frown, a little put off by his cautious words. It would be more normal if he just told you to do whatever it is he wants.

He matches your pace but keeps his distance. “Sandy is with Master, and they are already so far ahead of us… I don’t want to slow us down any further but I would really appreciate something to snack on right now.”

…Is this some ploy? A show for whoever this man is on his back? “Seriously? I am not your servant–”

“Please, Dove.” You look down as his tail wraps around your arm, looking back up to find a pleading look in his eye. “I think I saw some berries a little further back.” Alright, this is definitely an act. Some reason to be alone with the daoist, perhaps. Why else would he wait for Sandy and Tripitaka to be out of sight before asking? It’s clear that he knows more about the elder on his back than he’s letting on, but you trust that whatever Monkey knows, he can handle it.

“Alright, I will be back soon. Shout if you need me.” You nod, the monkey mirroring your action before you transform into a dove and begin your flight back. All you can do is hope the Great Sage knows what he’s doing.

Surprisingly enough, you do find the bush of berries Wukong mentioned. Maybe part of him really does want something to eat quickly. You start picking the berries, your thoughts drawing back to the strange daoist, the odd way in which he was looking at you and Tripitaka. Usually, it is your friend’s demon disciples that draw the eyes of strangers, not their human travel companions.

There has to be something wrong with that man. You’re embarrassed you didn’t catch it yourself, that it took Sun Wukong stepping in to tip you off. Part of you wonders how he can pick up on these things so quickly. He wasted no time in killing the bone demon when she was disguised. His ability to recognise danger on a whim is quite helpful, but you wish you knew how he did it.

You wonder how long you should take picking these berries, it’s obvious Wukongs wants time to deal with that daoist on his own. Just when you decide to head back, a thunderous boom sounds from the distance. The ground beneath your feet shakes and you stumble back, only just catching yourself. You barely have any time to regain your bearings as a second deafening crash echoes through the land, tremors shaking the earth beneath your feet even more violently than the first.

A tree crashes down to the ground, nearly crushing you in the process before you jump out of the way. What is going on?! What was that, two earthquakes under the span of a minute? Your head immediately swivels to the west, certain that whatever just happened is the result of a certain simian. That’s when you take a moment to blink, the sight before you confusing to look at. You see two mountains where the horizon used to be.

“What the…?” Did they just appear? How?! You could have sworn they weren’t there before, over where you left Wukong and the old man… There is no way this could mean anything good.

To add to your horror, a third mountain materialises before your very eyes, creating a third explosive boom. The ground shakes again, even more forcibly than before. It’s enough to knock you off your feet entirely. Once the earthquake stops, you’re able to sit up again. What the hell is happening back there?! Is Tripitaka okay? Is Sun Wukong fighting the old man now? Why are mountains appearing before your eyes?!

Your questions are put on hold when you hear his scream.

So loud, he’s yelling at the top of his lungs. Dropping whatever berries you had picked, you transform to fly back to where you left the Monkey King. He has to be in trouble, he would never shout like that if he wasn’t.

The closer you get to the spot where you left him, the closer you get to the mountains. The three are practically stacked onto one another in a cluster. They start to tremble, a flock of birds taking off from the trees on one of them when they do. Once the trembling stops, you hear his voice again, a furious howl coming from below.

Following his voice, you dive down. It takes a little while before you’re able to spot him, just his head. You land, rushing to his side before a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, or… what you can see of him. The Monkey King lays against the ground, his body pinned down by the newly-arrived mountains. Only his head and a forearm are visible. He’s bloodied and bruised, his head whipping around wildly and his breathing erratic.

He grunts, straining as the mountains once again shake. His hand digs into the ground for support, but his efforts are shown to be fruitless when the mountains remain, and he slumps back in exhaustion.

“Sun Wukong!” You call, rushing to his side and kneeling down. If he can hear your voice, he ignores it, his eyes darting frantically to and fro. They’re unfocused, panicked. His breaths are mercurial as he tries again to free himself, each attempt as successful as the last. He’s barely taking anything in. “Wukong– hey.”

You take hold of his swivelling head, working your gift into his mind. “Wukong… breathe.” It takes him time, each breath working to ground himself amidst his panic. He starts to slow, blinking a bit as he looks up at you. His head falls a bit, leaning into your hold as you continue using your gift. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“Dove?” He frowns, coming back to his senses.

“Sun Wukong, what happened? Where is that old daoist?” You question, looking back behind you to make sure you are really alone, that this isn’t some trap.

Wukong growls at the mention of the man. “That was no daoist, it was a demon. I wanted to get him alone so I could deal with him myself when the coward summoned these cursed mountains!” His fist slams into the ground, the earth quivering beneath it.

You frown a bit, hoping he doesn’t cause the ground to open up under you from unbridled anger. “Why not say anything before?”

“And risk another incident like with the bone demon?” He brings up a fair point, grunting as he plants his palm into the ground and attempts to free himself once more. He grits his teeth, straining with his eyes trained to the ground as he puts his all into lifting the mountains.

You quickly turn his head to look at you again. “Stop, you’re hurt.”

“I have to get out!”

“And we will get you out, but it’s clear that these mountains aren’t moving. All you are doing is wasting your energy.” You point out the obvious, making him groan with frustration. You can’t say you blame him in the slightest. Wukong already spent five centuries under a mountain, you can’t even begin to imagine how much dread and trepidation saturate every bone in his body in this moment, having to relive it all again.

“That demon must have Master by now, and I am stuck under here!” He shouts, clenching his fist.

“Sandy is with him.” You remind the sage, standing up as you begin to rack your brain for your next steps. “I am sure he won’t let anything happen to him. Just breathe, we have to get you out of here first before we can help Tripitaka.”

You try to think of what to do, but what can you do? If the Monkey King is unable to move the mountains, what can your mortal strength do to help him? With Sandy occupied with Tripitaka and the demon on his way to steal the monk away– not to mention the fact that Pigsy is still nowhere to be found– you can’t count on them to assist. You might have to go out and find someone that could help. If this demon summoned these mountains, surely there is a way to send them away, right?

Looking back down at the monkey demon, you notice his breaths becoming irregular and crouch down to once again hold his head. “Monkey, hey. Look at me.” He does as you ask, unable to hide the anxiety in his eyes. You can’t remember a time you have ever seen him like this. You’ve seen him concerned, for Tripitaka, for you, but this is different. This is fear.

You remember a time you thought the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, held no fear in his heart. How wrong you were, then. In his state, how could you go find help and leave him here on his own? “I’m right here. We’re going to figure this out together, okay? I’m not leaving you here, not even for a moment.”

Your words seem to help, his eyes softening. He reaches up to your hand holding the side of his face, taking hold of it with a securing grip. For now, it seems the best you can do is comfort the monkey demon, despite your own worries starting to eat away at you. There is no way you can just leave him here with his anxieties to eat away at him, but how else are you meant to find a way to help him?

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Day 18: Rivers

“That shitty Dazai…” Chuuya curses, walking along the tenth street in the last hour.

The bandaged teen disappeared after Chuuya caught the thugs they needed for their mission.

And Chuuya normally wouldn’t care to find him. 

Dazai does his own thing, and Chuuya his.

But there’s something in his gut that unfortunately won’t let go of the notion that the idiot is off trying to end himself. 

So now Chuuya’s been searching for the past hour to no avail.

Dazai didn’t leave any clues for once, and Chuuya’s running off three hours of sleep so running around has been his best option.

“Where the fuck did he go?” Chuuya asks himself. He’s in a park at the moment, glancing this way and that for any sign of bandages. “What does the bastard always say? Follow the noise and you find me?”

It might sound crazy, but Chuuya has an idea.

When Dazai doesn’t want to be found, he goes dead silent.

So follow the noise of his silence, right?

If Dazai’s trying to off himself, he wouldn’t do it around people.

That eliminates half the area surrounding the park Chuuya’s in.

There’s a side alley nearby, thin enough that only two people can fit side-by-side at a time. From here, he can’t see anyone inside but there could be crevices hidden from sight.

The other path leads further down to what looks like a river, no pedestrians passing by it.

Chuuya’s an idiot.

“Fuck,” he tells, ignoring the side eye of a mom, and takes off towards the river.

As soon as he’s in front of the river, he twists left and right, searching for a blob of black anywhere he can see.

And it’s just as he turns to the right that he spots a certain familiar black blur plummet into the water from a bridge.

He doesn’t even think before sprinting and diving in.

Dazai’s day had been going swimmingly.

He’d annoyed Chuuya three times, ordered his dog to capture the thugs they needed, and had managed to sneak off without the redhead noticing.

He’d even found the perfect bridge to jump off of!

He’d spent a little time staring at the rushing water below, thoughts a mess of death and darkness, before climbing on the railing.

The second he heard footsteps thundering towards his location from a nearby side street, he’d taken the plunge.

There’s only one chibi he can make that much noise after all.

The water hadn’t hurt when he hit it, just a frigid splash of arctic-like temperatures surrounding him in an instant.

A little uncomfortable but nothing that will last forever.

He would have been content to go like this, really.

If he hadn’t heard another splash somewhere near him and felt the ripples of it, that is.

Squinting his eyes open, he’s met with the sight of Chuuya, hair an orange halo around his face and blue eyes panicked as he turns in every direction trying to find him.

Dazai starts moving away. Slug’s not gonna take this away from him.

And, again, he would’ve gotten away with it.

Really, he shouldn’t have turned back around on instinct.

But when he does, the sight of Chuuya floundering like a fish out of water has his gut /sinking./

Dazai had gathered the intel (read: overheard via stalking) that Chuuya was learning how to swim better from Albatross.

Key word: better.

He figured the chibi could at least doggie-paddle since he’s a dog.

Wrong. 

‘He can’t swim at all,’ Dazai’s mind supplies as his body thrusts him forward towards Chuuya.

The current’s in his favor, at least in pushing Chuuya towards him, and he’s quick to latch on to the redhead.

Dazai ignores the grip around his chest, swimming diagonal to the river’s bank and letting the current carry them closer to it.

His arms are tired and he’d usually give up by this point, but the reminder of Chuuya around him keeps him going.

It’s not a double-suicide, after all, and chibi still has a lot of life in him unlike Dazai.

The second his feet hit the ground underwater, he’s pushing them up into fresh air. And as soon as they’re out of the water enough to not drown, he collapses, breaths ragged as he splutters.

Chuuya starts coughing beside him, body shaking with each one, but his grip on Dazai’s shirt doesn’t diminish.

“Slug’s… so… stupid,” Dazai wheezes between each harsh gulp of air.

All he gets is a pinch to the side, the grip from before returning just as fast.

They stay like that, collapsed on the ground as they try to regain their breath, for a long time.

Even once Chuuya’s caught his breath, he doesn’t speak, leaving them in silence as the sun begins to set.

Dazai’s pissed. 

“Don’t do that again.” Dazai glares beside him, voice harsher than he meant it to be.

“I’ll do it as many times as I want, bastard.” Chuuya glares back. His hand still hasn’t left Dazai.

A staredown — twin glares faring the other to oppose — ensues. 

“Whatever.” Dazai rolls his eyes. He’s tired, and actually using his body has made him hungry. “It’s late.”

He tries to shrug Chuuya off as he gets up but the boy remains, hand glued to his side as the redhead gets up too.

They find a snack stand and don’t speak of it again.

But Dazai doesn’t fail to notice that the next time — and every time after — he thinks he’s snuck away and tries to die via drowning, it’s Chuuya who saves him, strong body adjusted to swimming thanks to a certain Flag.