#and it's an insane shift in blame ESPECIALLY when you consider the ways in which both of them are wrestling with their morals atp

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

ok last post before i clock out but genuinely. GOD. when i tell you these two moments keep me up at night. the shift in blame. and especially bc the butcher is echoing a version of that earlier phrasing back at him: "without reason or motive. you took it." vs "whose life did you take without provocation, without threat?"

like, is arthur maybe just naming parker bc nobody knows abt john's existence, much less involvement, and he's still wanted for that murder? maybe. but the butcher does warn him earlier, Don't lie. I'll know. and it's just, it makes me wonder. bc in that first exchange, arthur's using that murder, kind of dishonestly, to guilt john into helping him hunt the larsons. so like, genuinely, when he's not doing that, how much does he consider parker's death his fault, over john's?

john was just acting on instinct, after all. arthur's the one who chose to open the book.

[centoru]

Geto Suguru is definitely the type to enjoy morning intimacy. More specifically, pleasuring you.

Sleeping with a tank top and your panties on was definitely a way to make him all worked up in the morning.

Suguru would drape the weight of his arms over you as the big spoon. You'd chuckle and greet him a good morning as he would shower you with light kisses with his eyes still closed, spreading from your forehead to the back of your head.

It would all be so tender and warm, until his hand would begin to caress your skin and have a mind of its own. His hand would stroke your skin, squeezing your exposed side of the waist lightly. He would play with the hem of your top as you two exchanged looks, smiling ever-so-warmly as you were both greeted with views of each other. And he would find your face so hard to look at, most especially when the tent in his boxers is beginning to poke you from behind.

You'd raise a brow at him, and he'd only kiss you, inhaling your scent as he'd continue littering kisses from your nape to your spine. He would go back to caressing you, your skin, and sneakily slip his hand into your braless torso. He'd slowly reach up to your chest, slowly trailing down your stomach with two fingers, then trail it back up until he stops onto the underside of your breast. He'd gently cup it, then fondle your breast to earn a gasp from you, he'd play with your sensitive nipple just to hear a soft whimper from you. Even after all this, you dare not to push his hand the slightest.

Suguru would take hints from your reactions and responses to his touch. He'd enjoy every bit of it—well, considering how hard he was getting and that you could practically feel him smile against your skin, he would absolutely find pleasure in it.

Suguru would slowly trace lines on your skin as he searches for the fabric of your underwear. You'd shift your position into something more comfortable, and Suguru would take it as a chance to kiss you deeper.

He would dive into your mouth, angling his face to drink you in better. Suguru would reach for the thin waistband of your panties, he'd play with it by sliding a finger on your hip, then exit when you'd gasp against his mouth.

He'd chuckle every time he earns another reaction, making it difficult for you not to beg to be touched already. As you'd pool under there with desire, your mouth slightly ajar, your eyes filled with so much want, Suguru's lips would form a small smirk.

He'd rub you gently through the thin fabric of your panties which would instantly make your hips buck forward for more friction. He'd find it amusing how pathetic you've become for a touch, but he doesn't blame you for it.

He'd rub you in a circular motion first, teasingly and agonizingly slow, waiting for more sharp thrust of your hips out of pure desperation. He'd find it entertaining when you'd press his hand down with yours, and he'd definitely mock you for being so needy in the morning when he's the one all worked up.

"More," You'd say, you'd beg, Suguru would only chuckle. He'd lift his hand, retreating it until you'd whine from frustration. "More? Baby, the day has just started."

You'd reach for his hand back, putting it on top of your stomach as you'd breathe into his neck as a way of begging. Your eyes closed, your lips pressed against the nook of his neck, his scent lingering around your nose. "Please?"

And that's all it'll take for Suguru to go utterly insane.

He'd tap your clothed clit to earn a slight whimper from you. "Do you want it, baby?" Suguru would ask, and you'd nod vigorously. He'd chuckle then bring two fingers up to your mouth, and you'd instinctively open, indulging in wetting his two fingers before he slips them right inside your panties.

To say you're wet would be an understatement. You'd be soaked, a whole lot of slick dripping for him. Suguru would rub you first, putting slight pressure on your clit before getting tired of the hindrance your panties have made. He'd hastily remove it, his lust obvious in his eyes, yet he'd never forget to be gentle.

You'd widen your legs naturally, Suguru would bring his lips to your chest, then your collarbone, then up to your neck, consuming you completely. Suguru would play with you first, his nails would trail and trace empty touches on your inner thighs before squeezing hard to get you melt into a loud whimper.

Then his fingers would enter you slowly, a groan leaving his as your back would arch, and your mouth with be left agape. He'd smile sinisterly at this, enjoying the view of your chest rising from the first contact, and the sensation of his fingers filling you up. He'd look at you while you'd struggle to face him. "You want it like that, baby?" He'd ask, and you'd nod.

Suguru loved the feeling of your tight and wet pussy caving around his fingers. His hardness would often grind on your bare hip as his desire to fuck you would be more apparent as minutes pass.

His long and slender fingers would go in and out of you in a slow and passionate manner. His fingers would leave your hole to tease your clit, earning a jolt from you, then ravage you by ramming his fingers in and out in such a feverish way. His thumb would playfully graze onto your clit, then press on it to have you moaning louder than before.

He'd latch his lips on your skin, nibbling and sucking harshly to leave marks in places he wanted to see. You'd moan his name, squirming under his touch as he began to overwhelm you with pleasure. You'd reach onto his wrist, your nails digging on his skin as you'd try to squeeze your legs shut.

But he definitely wouldn't allow that. He'd let you have your fun though, but you'd feel him smirk on your skin. He'd part from your neck to hear the loud 'chu' echoing in the four-walled room you both shared, heat rising in every part of it. You'd try to close your legs, and he'd breathe in your ears.

"Thought you wanted this? How am I supposed to touch you now?" Suguru would chuckle lowly in your ears, letting his wrist get squeezed in between your soft, milky thighs. Then, he'd go teasingly slow again, making you whimper in frustration. "Open your legs, darling."

You'd oblige even in immense sensitivity. You'd open your legs slowly, breathing heavily, and trembling slightly. Suguru would smirk, kissing the back of your ear before indulging in your pussy once more. He'd praise you by littering kisses on your neck, until he'd use his other hand to cup your cheeks and face him.

"Good girl." He'd whisper against your lips as his fingers reached deeper in you. You'd whimper against his lips and arch your back from the sensation, and he'd immediately latch his mouth on you.

He'd purposely do it fast just so you could struggle in kissing him back. Suguru definitely liked it like that. With the way he's pleasuring you, it wouldn't be a miracle for you to orgasm. You'd release all over his fingers, cumming with a shudder, panting endlessly, and Suguru would bring his cum-coated fingers up to his lips with you watching. He'd suck it clean, he'd definitely enjoy how your eyes would darken in the same desire he had, too.

"Sweet as ever." He'd tell you, then shower you with praises. His boner won't go unnoticed though. He'd buck his hips forward, and you'd press a palm on it. You'd smirk against his chest as he'd look at you, an expression you can't quite read, but it was familiar when he'd fuck you up at night.

Suguru would grind his clothed bulge on your bare pussy, still sensitive and wet from the remains of your cum. You'd shiver from the feeling, and Suguru would press on it harder.

Suguru would look up at you from burying his face into your breasts, a small mischievous smirk creeping onto his face as he continued to grind on you. He'd bring his hand down to your clit again, ignoring that you were still quite sensitive. Suguru would rub his boner on your folds, his fingers would play with your clit to heighten the pleasure and sensation, his tongue would flicker against your hardened nipples. He'd look at you while he did all this, loving every bit of reaction you showed him.

Suguru would whisper against the meeting point of your breasts, kissing it as he'd hook your legs open, lifting it up to meet his boner better. "My turn?"

[kisseobie]

240711 jongseob ❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

pairings: jongseob x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

tags: dom!seob, sub!reader, jongseob is cocky, reader is going insane over his compression shirt and baggy jeans (i am reader), nipple play, blowjob, face fucking, hair pulling, no prep, unprotected sex lol wrap it before you tap it guys, reader is nasty and grinds against his shoes, pussy slapping, rough sex, touchy in a taxi (kind of?) in the first bit, light body worship, reader is an actual whore for her boyfriend .. i think that’s it

a/n: yeah so i had to start writing this as soon as the pictures dropped sorry (i’m not) and a special dt to @lijeons because we both feel insane over him rn

“you listening?” are the only words that leave your boyfriend’s lips that you can successfully say you’ve comprehended in the painfully slow 10 minutes you’ve occupied this drive with him, and yet you are still too dazed to answer with a proper reply, merely nodding along to the question. sitting in this close proximity with jongseob, and nearly falling onto his lap at times due to the taxi driver’s reckless driving, is not an occurrence that you’d ever expect to dread, but today is different. today, jongseob decided to wordlessly proclaim “i hate my girlfriend!”, you suppose, and he might as well lower the backseat windows, stick his head out, and bellow that very phrase out to the streets, because he clearly is unaware of how embarrassingly wet you’ve been rendered in the mere minutes you’ve been in his presence.

you’re being ridiculous, the reason for your sudden dramatics being jongseob’s outfit, if you could even consider it as one rather than a feature from a slutty mens fashion magazine from the 90’s. your boyfriend, although fashionable, isn’t typically the type to pair his usual baggy pants with the tightest compression shirt you’ve ever seen, but once again, apparently today had to be different. you’re choosing to blame it on the boy spending too much time shopping with intak, making a mental note to send an unfriendly text to his hyung later. your boyfriend, bless his heart, is clueless to your internal panic, and is currently flicking through recent photos he took on his digicam whilst explaining his thought process behind each shot to you. you’re trying, you really are, to focus and bask in his excitement, but how can you be expected to pay attention when each click on his camera causes his boyish arms to shift ever so slightly, especially when the shape of his upper body is accentuated with the tight white longsleeve top that adorns his frame? are you just supposed to go on with your day and pretend that his newly found love for thin compression shirts doesn’t send heat flooding to your core?

“..and this one! i took this one in thailand because the colors reminded me of the dress you wore on our date last month.” jongseob relays to you with a toothy grin, looking at you expectedly for your reaction to his cute confession. you smile at him genuinely, temporarily tossing your arousal to the back of your mind and leaning over to place a peck on his cheek, which only makes his smile grow. “i missed you a lot seob.”

“yeah?” he asks, with an annoyingly cocky smirk already making its way on his lips.

“mhm”

he doesn’t waste any more time, grabbing at your waist to pull you into a long overdue kiss, ignoring the fact that you both are in the company of a very annoyed taxi man. you kiss back with just as much, if not more, fervor, pawing at his recently dyed two-toned shag. your hands drop to stroke and knead at his toned arms, freshly manicured nails slowly descending and scratching down jongseob’s clothed chest. he shifts his kisses to the nape of your neck, biting at your skin and pulling you in impossibly closer. you both are interrupted and awkwardly squirm away from each other as the driver’s grunt of frustration reaches your ears, and you look up to lock eyes with the man, glaring at the pair of you from the rearview mirror. you’re giggle nervously, but halt your amusement at the situation when realizing that the impromptu makeout session with your boyfriend has only made your panties even stickier than before, and you curse yourself for being so easily affected by a few of his kisses.

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend is not as oblivious to your current fixation on his attire as you may think. jongseob resists the urge to coo out loud at how you pivot your thighs against each other to feel some friction, and at how your eyes shamelessly find purchase on his upper body every few minutes. he shimmies closer to you after a while of silence, laying his head atop your shoulder as you try to ignore how good he smells when he’s so up close, how the mixed scent of rich cologne, wood, tangerines, and boyhood makes you dizzier by the second.

he’s lifting his head now, so his lips hover dangerously close to your left ear, smiling knowingly and whispering “i take it you like my outfit?”, and jongseob doesn’t even give you a moment to react, retreating back to his side of the backseat, but not before shooting you a shit-eating grin that makes you want to sock him, albeit lovingly, in the face.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

the familiar rigidness of jongseob’s wooden floors poke and prod at your jelly knees, and you can already feel the soreness starting to seep into the muscle. regardless, you’d never dare to get up, not when your boyfriend has his pretty, leaking cock out, with his pants bunched up at his feet. he clicks his tongue as you wrap a manicured palm against the heavy girth, silently signaling to you to “get on with it”. you can’t even blame him for smirking and at your pathetic quickness to lap your pink tongue against his tip, not when you look like a stray cat being fed milk for the first time in weeks.

you’re maneuvering your tongue to lick long, tantalizing stripes against the prominent vein running along his length, hand still wrapped around the base that you know you won’t be able to reach with your mouth. his hisses and groans only push you further, taking his cock all the way down your mouth and suctioning your lips just how you know jongseob likes it. apparently your slow speed is not your boyfriend’s forte, evident in the way he forcefully grabs at your hair and pushes you inwards to take even more of his dick in your mouth. tears are already streaming down your face, but you love when he uses you like this, love the feeling of being suffocated by him so carelessly. you make the mistake of looking up to jongseob’s face, met with the view of the boy who’s brows are furrowed in ecstasy. he peers down at you, maintaining eye contact as he pushes your mouth off of him, giving you a brief chance to breathe.

jongseob looks heavenly, bangs dampened with his own sweat, body still clad in the white compression shirt that clings to every ripple and divot on his lean body. you can’t take your eyes off of him, almost like a moth drifting towards a flickering porch light. you beam up your boyfriend with the prettiest smile you can muster, batting your eyelashes while your fingers creep back up to find home on his thighs. he’s giggling at your sly actions in disbelief, but does nothing to stop you from licking at his fat cockhead once more. “you’re having lots of fun with this, aren’t you?” comes out of jongseob’s mouth, followed by a shaky sigh. when you don’t respond, he’s babbling again. “wan’ you to answer me y/n. couldn’t even get inside my apartment, fuck, without you jumping my bones. bet that cunt is dripping all over my floor.”

to prove his theory, jongseob lifts his shoe to push upwards against your cloth panties, your decision on wearing a mini dress today making the access easier. jongseob groans out loud when he spots the giant wet patch soaking through your underwear. despite your boyfriend examining your clothed cunt with a scoff, you aren’t embarrassed in the slightest, and can already feel yourself getting delirious from pleasure despite remaining untouched. you love when he gets like this, so cocky and dominant that it makes your cunt clench on air, weeping for some stimulation. jongseob is about to pull his shoe away from your core, but you beat him to doing so by shamelessly rocking your panty-clad cunny back and forth over the hard material. you’ve rendered the boy absolutely speechless, gyrating your hips against his shoe like a whore as your juices seep through your panties and on top of the leather material. your eyes are on his the entire time, finding amusement in his disbelief of your desperateness. you make sure to increase in volume with every rock of your hips, letting out pornographic moans as you fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s shoes.

“get up.”

it takes everything in you to not ignore his command, putting a brief pause on your pleasure as you hold onto his thighs for leverage, pushing your wobbly body up with some effort. jongseob doesn’t give you a moment to collect yourself before grabbing at your face for the nth time tonight, kissing you with teeth and tongue before pushing you onto his bedsheets behind you. he doesn’t say a word to you as he begins to lift your dress up and over your head, his silence somehow making the situation hotter. your tits are on full display, nipples hardening as they hit the cool air of jongseob’s ac unit. your boyfriend scoffs, once again, at your lack of a bra but remains silent, taking his time with kneading your boobs and kissing at the surrounding skin. he can sense your impatience, and ever the sweet boyfriend, begins to lift the hem of his own top, but is stopped by your shaky hands as you plead, “nononono, keep it on please.”

he complies to your pathetic request with a snort, refocusing to fully pull off his dirtied shoes, pants, and boxers, now only left in that damn compression shirt, accompanied with a dangly silver chain around his neck. jongseob smiles at your wandering eyes, catching you off guard by hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you towards the edge of the bed. you begin to anticipate the feeling of his slender fingers discarding your sodden panties, but it never comes. instead, jongseob circles your covered clit with his thumb, clearly enjoying teasing you. fat tears start to cascade down your cheeks once more, and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering out in both ecstasy and frustration. you know you would look ridiculous to an outsider, but right now it’s just you and jongseob, so you don’t feel embarrassed in the slightest. your begs come out rushed and wanton, the words scratching the depths of your throat.

“please seobie, touch me already! stop teasing!”

he smirks at your impatience, getting off at your very obvious desperation as he slows the pace of his thumb prodding at your puffy clit, the thin material of your underwear still clinging to your cunt.

“i am touching you.”

just as you begin to sob, jongseob wraps his delicate fingers around the straps of your panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. he leans his face in to nudge the tip of his nose against your button, inhaling deeply as to memorize your scent. you were relieved to finally be bare in front of him, but the lack of touch has you squirming against his sheets in annoyance. you know you’re acting ungrateful, with jongseob treating you so delicately, but you can’t help but want more.

a sudden smack! pulls you out of your head, the combined pain and pleasure of your boyfriend spanking your bare cunt causing you to gasp at the sudden change of demeanor. he hits your cunny again, laughing at the way you subtly push your hips forward to meet the power of his slaps. he repeats the motion a few more times, until your wetness leaves a glimmering sheen on his palm, and your pussy is an angry shade of red.

he gives you another brief moment to breathe, watching how your cunt rises and falls like a second heartbeat. he’s fisting his neglected cock to the sight of you, hair splayed out messily on his sheets, flushed cheeks with tear steaks running across them, nipples hard and vulnerable to his touch. without warning, which seems to be a running theme with jongseob tonight, he begins to slide his mushroom cockhead between your folds, hissings and cursing at the wet feeling.

“you ready?”

you nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you prop your weight onto your elbows, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch of jongseob’s cock. he leans down from where he stands to place a peck on each of your pink cheeks, drinking in your salty tears before capturing your lips into a deep kiss. when your boyfriend pulls back, he rests your smooth legs on top of his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your left ankle, and the intimacy of it all has you falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

after what feels like eons, jongseob starts to push his girth into your tight hole, letting out a hushed “fuck” in the process. god you missed the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, missed how perfectly the pair of you fit together, creating your own sinful symphony of sloshes and grunts. once you’ve taken him in all the way, he tests the waters by thrusting slowly, making you both moan out at the familiar feeling that will never quite dull despite the countless of times you’ve felt it before. you’re staring at your boyfriend, who’s currently preoccupied with pounding into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, the view making you throw your head back with a whine. your greedy pussy wraps around him so well, obscenely suctioning his cock every time the boy pulls outwards.

you watch how jongseob’s shirt continues to flex and cling onto his muscles with every motion, can feel the sweat peeking through the material as your legs stay glued to his damp shoulders. he’s breathing heavily now, little whines and whimpers giving away how much he’s missed having you like this; splayed out like a princess on his bed as he works you towards your climax. one particular thrust of his hips hits home so well that you’re seeing stars, fingers fisting his silk sheets as your cunny clenches down on him. jongseob notices the shift, and hits that particular spot over and over, quickening his pace with every thrust of his hips.

“mmm yeah, right there! right there!” comes out of your mouth so loud you’re almost afraid his neighbors will write a complaint. he only speeds up at your loud request, fucking into your gummy walls so heavenly, whispering praises and “i got you” ’s into the air. at a certain point, he’s leaned so close to your body that he lies right on top of you, the weight of his clothed chest meeting your bare one, making both of you dizzy. your perky tits press up against the smooth material of his shirt, creating a type of friction that has you toppling over, cumming around his cock with a loud cry.

jongseob isn’t holding up any better, thrusts becoming messy and irregular as your orgasm spurs him on to chase his own, and with a few more shifts of his hips he’s shooting his release into your walls, filling you up to the brim with his milky seed. he lazily strokes into you one, two, three more times before pulling out. the loss of contact, paired with the feeling of his cum leaking out of your hole, makes you whine in displeasure, already missing how nice he feels inside of you. jongseob carefully flips his body over to lay next to you, panting heavily as you extend an arm out to play with his hair.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

the scent of him suffocates you senses in the most heavenly way, and you tuck your face deeper into his now bare chest, shirt tossed aside somewhere on his floors. you inhale the notes of tangerine coming from the boy that you’ve become so accustomed to. sleepy and dazed, you almost miss jongseob’s husky “who knew that me wearing a tight shirt would lead to the best sex of my life?”

you make a noise of discontent and lightly shove him by the shoulder, rolling your eyes at his teasing and he just giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world. jongseob pulls you back into him despite your whines, wrapping his arms around your naked frame and placing light pecks into your hair.

“i bought it in 3 different colors, by the way.”

you groan into his chest, causing your boyfriend to laugh out loud at your cuteness. you choose to let sleep take over instead of imagining your very hot boyfriend wear another one of those damn compression shirts in whatever fucking shades he bought them in, telling yourself that you’ll rip him a new one in the morning. or jump his bones. whichever comes first.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

new chat

you

[12:58 pm] hey! consider killing yourself. 😊

intak 😒

[1:03pm] ??? tf i do?? ☹️

— you disliked a message

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

CRANBERRY IS BACK 🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

Also I’m so excited to see thirsty Eddie this is gonna be fun!! 💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪

HELL YEAH SHE IS!

48 for 🦮:

---

Buck’s jaw drops. “Tomorrow?” 

“Yes,” she winces. “I know. I just… I don’t know. Eddie was away, and I didn’t want you to find out on your own.”

“Because you knew I wouldn’t like it,” Buck replies. 

“Well, yeah,” she admits. “And, I wasn’t completely sure they were coming.”

“Why?” Buck asks. “Why are they coming, Maddie?”

Maddie sighs.  “I guess I just… Want my little girl to have a normal family. You know, uncles and grandparents that she might actually know.”

Buck pinches the bridge of his nose, biting back the urge to make a snippy comment about choosing a partner who had one, then.

“I guess I can understand the desire,” Buck admits. “I’m just not sure they are capable of it.”

She sighs. Again. What’s with all the sighing? This was her choice.

“You could come to dinner,” she says. “Bring Eddie and Chris. Bring Cranberry. You have a family, Evan. A life. Don’t you want them to see that?”

Does he? He’s not actually sure. It never seemed necessary before. They sure as hell have never cared to see it, so why should he care to show it? He lost a leg. They could have come and seen him then. If he ever needed parents, it was then. 

They’ll blame you for that, a little voice in his head says. Especially her. 

Buck takes a steadying breath. 

“You really want me there?” He asks.

“Of course I do,” Maddie replies. “And so do they, Evan. I think I’m willing to try. It seems like Mom and Dad are too.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But we’re a team, okay? A-a united front. And we are not allowed to leave Christopher alone with them.”

---

45 for 💪:

---

Confessed some very scary feelings to his best friend. And as a result? Things are going great. 

Until right now. Until this exact moment.

Right now, it’s beyond clear to Eddie that he’s totally fucked. 

See, the thing is, Eddie is totally, stupidly into Buck. Not that being into Buck is stupid. It’s just that, the amount of into Buck he is, is bordering on embarrassing. It’s like once he let himself accept that the feelings he had for Buck weren’t platonic, the floodgates were open. And he hasn’t found a way to shut them yet. Even briefly. Even for, like, work. 

Which is where he is. Right now. 

At a public firehouse and his place of employment. 

Two days ago, Eddie had asked Buck out. Sort of old fashioned of him, maybe. Considering they’ve gone through more together than most married couples can say, even before either of them came out as queer. But alas. Eddie is new to the whole openly gay thing, and he’s not trying to put pressure on himself. So he told Buck how he felt. Asked him out. Asked if they could take it slow. 

Buck was wonderful. Of course Buck was wonderful. Buck is wonderful. He’s kind and patient when he needs to be - even though Eddie knows it’s not his default - and incredibly empathetic. He’s also insanely fucking hot. And that’s sort of the problem today. 

Their date is on their next day off. Over twenty-four hours from now. But ever since they planned it, Eddie has been… Well, eager. His imagination was getting a little carried away in anticipation. He wanted a lot more from Buck than dinner and a stroll down the boardwalk. Even if he was the one who had asked for restraint. In other words, he’s relentlessly horny, beholden to boundaries he set, and still in for a full shift of work with the man making him relentlessly horny. So, yeah. Grave? Dug. 

In an attempt to filter his energy elsewhere, Eddie goes to the station gym before the beginning of his shift. Like, far before.

[zerooup]

𐂂Little Alastor Head Cannons!𐂂

Don't like it, don't read! please don't harass me because you don't like what I do!

CW. ABUSE, MURDER, PERSONAL HC'S ON ALASTOR'S PAST.

𐂂 Alastor is usually around 0-4, but can be younger or older depending on his surroundings. It also depends on whatever chaos Charlie had planned for the day, and how his schedule goes.

𐂂 Alastor is very picky about who cares for him, Rosie and as of recent, Lucifer has been allowed to pick the boy up and care for him a couple times, though he'd still prefer Rosie over anyone.

𐂂 Very prone to bad flashbacks while regressed, Often from his time in life, but there's a few moments of his and vox's relationships that keep him wide awake, he'd never admit that though

𐂂 Very much still a little dealmaker! Which, is quite cute until you remember he's a violent overlord; but hey. it's hell; so whatever's cute is just. cute!

𐂂 Mama's boy. Even if she's in heaven, he'll hope to whatever god there is that she remembers him, even though most souls in heaven don't remember their kin that have been passed to hell. Like he'd even listen to that.

𐂂 He has a very real fear of his father coming into the hotel looking for his son, because there's only so many Alastor's in hell; he'd fear him coming in and hurting Charlie or any of the other hotel-goers; which. Charlie reassures him that there's a very slim chance that his father would actually be able to hurt her.

𐂂 Tries to be very quiet during his regression, even if that's for the worse. He'd often end up crying to himself in his radio tower to try and figure out a way to see his mama again, He knows he's beyond redemption... but that hasn't stopped him before.

𐂂 And usually after crying in his radio tower, he's tiny. Like; barely able to make the noises he usually does whole regressed.

𐂂 He's also very much more willing to flex his power while small. He does NOT like showing weakness, even while small. Husker made a quip about him being on a leash while small and he was very quick to remind him who was in control. Husk doesn't blame him for doing so, especially considering husker is only a bit older than him and they were acquainted in life.

𐂂 during his disappearance, Lilith was his caregiver... for about 2 months out of the 7 years; which gave him a schedule for his regression... that ended in his soul in her hands, and him back in hell to watch over Charlie, which is why he was around the television center of hell, and that's when he found her on "that fiasco of a picture show!"

𐂂 Speaking of that fiasco of a picture show, he hadn't regressed in 8 and a half years, and he was content like that. The SECOND lucifer was in the hotel, he insisted to Charlie that Alastor was a regressor in some form or fashion. Neither of them knew till husker outright said something about it.

𐂂 The first time he regressed was after the fight with Adam. He was able to fight it long enough to mourn the loss of Pentious and re-unite with the group. that day ended with a harshly wounded Alastor silently crying into his new radio tower.

𐂂 And as I've mentioned in one of my old posts, I believe Alastor is autistic. so the change of his radio tower only made him more upset the longer he stayed in there... but the deer-printed blanket was welcome.

𐂂 Partially why he never outright told anyone he's a regressor despite people telling him if he did it was alright; is because of how tiny he is. as well as his form shifting to be more fawnlike. Also the fact he's padded no matter what age... he's embarrassed by it. but; thankfully Charlie was able to talk him into it after finding him asleep on the couch while everyone else was playing games. and she made it very clear that this was the BIGGEST trust exercise they'd done. Once he'd woken up he'd somehow been moved to his room and changed... which is funny because he's an insanely light sleeper, but he somehow wasn't even stirred by being moved up a flight of stairs and sat down on the bed.

[lesbianakaashi]

The Forgotten Shounen: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

This is not a “Why you should watch/read khr” or anything like that. This is just me going into the deep dive and throwing my findings at you. I’m making this because khr used to be my favourite series when I was 15 (I had plushees, posters, tradingcards, the art book etc) and now as an adult I constantly find myself baffled at how unknow it seems to be.

1. Okay first what is khr?

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or just Reborn! is a series by Akira Amano which was published in Weekly Shounen Jump from 2004 to 2012 (with 42 volumes) and got an anime adaption which run from 2006 to 2010 on Tv Tokyo (with 202 episodes and one OVA).

2. What’s it about?

Khr is a parody of the italian mafia and plays in a world where the mafia is heavily influencial. The protagonist is the japanese middle schooler Sawada Tsunayoshi who is known as “No good Tsuna” because of his failing grades, general weak and cowardly personality and weak physics.

He becomes aware of the mafia world when a 2 year old baby called Reborn arrives at his house claiming to be the greatest hitman and declaring himself his home tutor. Reborn was send by the 9th head of the Vongola famiglia who is ready to retire and looking for a new heir. Which of course, is supposed to be Tsuna and now it's Reborns job to shape him into a worthy sucessor.

Tsuna rejects the violence of the mafia world and refuses the position as the 10th. Thanks to Reborn and his general craziness Tsuna meets different people and starts to make real friendships. Reborn wants 6 of those friends to be Tsuna's future guardians, basically a group of people which will be closest to him in the vongola famiglia. Tsuna might have no interest in those positions but the friendships he builds with them become really precious to him.

Reborns arrivial also brings in the enemies of the Vongola family which leads to Tsuna being forced to engage in battles. Generally Tsuna openly avoids fights and prefers to run away but will put himself in danger for his friends' sake or because of something Reborn did.

Through out the series Tsuna matures and gains strenght but he never becomes a power fantasy. He's just a guy with many flaws who grows through the human connections he makes.

Personally I think the relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is one of the best student teacher reltaionships in all of manga only topped by Mob and Reigen from Mob Psycho 100. Especially the last arc really underlines their unique relationship to me.

Furthermore, khr offers a new and unique battle system: The flames. I'm not gonna go into to too much detail but the general idea is that one fights with their dying will flame which basically turns off your the savety switch so you can fight with everything you have. The flames are seperated into different categories such as: sky, storm, mist, rain, sun, lightning and cloud and have different attributes asigned to each one. Tsuna's use of the sky flame and his transformation when using it is still one of my favourite shounen transformations to this day.

3. What happened?

The series did really well and then not so well over the course of its serialisation. After the manga got an anime adaption it increased in populairty and video games, light novels, and other products such as CDs were created based on the series. Reborn is one of the best selling series of Weekly Shōnen Jump and has sold around 30 Million volumes overall. It was and still is very popular in Japan but rather unknown in the west.

According to the article "The Rise and Fall of Weekly Shonen Jump: A Look at the Circulation of Weekly Jump" khr was the 10th bestselling series in Weekly Shōnen Jump, with a total of 7 million copies sold in 2007.

This number increasing to 15 milion in 2008. Which placed khr into the 4th best selling series of 2008 in Japan.

Between 2008 and 2010 those sales declined but still kept strong with khr as the 6th top selling manga in 2009, 8th best selling in 2010 and then 24th best selling in 2012.

In November 2014, readers of the Da Vinci magazine voted khr number 17 on a list of Weekly Shōnen Jump's greatest manga series of all time.

After the anime came to an apprupt stop in 2010 for unknown reasons the manga sells took a visible hit. (Apparently the studio wanted to put the anime on halt because they were busy with other projects and give Akira Amano time to develop her story but I couldn't find any source for this claim) Furthermore, the rushed last chapters of the manga in 2012 declined the popularity of the series even more. There's no offical statement as to why the manga was ended in such a way but it's reasonable to assume that Jump either cut it considering the decreasing sales or Akira Amano choose to end it for personal reasons.

Nontheless, Tsuna not being included in Jump Force (a fighting game where you can play as different characters from Jump) in 2019 even tho he made it in earlier Jump Stars games also underlines the decreased interest in the series.

Rumors on a reboot or anime adaption of the last two arcs surface from time to time but are genereally unlikely. Artland the studio which made khr has gone bankrupt around 2015-2016. It might be taken on by another studio but rather uncommen especially with such an old series.

4. Art style

The khr anime ended over 10 years ago and the old art style might not be appealing to newer audiences.

Especailly because the anime adaption follows Akira Amanos old art style which heavily developed within the years. Here a picture comparing characters in the new art style:

A modern anime adaption in the new art style would be aesthetically pleasing. It would probably look similiar to Psycho Pass since Akira Amano did the concept art for this series.

(My personal art student hot take is that both art styles are unique and fun. Up to this day Akira Amano still has my favourite art style and even if the amount folds in the characters clothing is a little extreme I love it dearly.)

5. Criticism

The show is not without flaws and even if I greatly enjoy it it wouldn't be right not to adress them.

Daily Life Arc:

A lot of people view the first 20 to 25 episodes as fillers and quickly lose intererst in the series. This is due to the fact that Akira Amano inteded the series to be a gag manga and focuses the first chapters on world building, character introduction and comical narratives. It's rumored that the decision to develop the story into a battle shounen was made because the sales weren't doing well enough at first. So the first chapters/episodes may seem titidious but are necessary for the story and the development of the characters. The tonal shift from a more gintama like gag manga to a darker battle focused story can also be offputting to some viewers.

Either way a lot of people blame this arc when discussing why khr never got an english dub or didn't end up on Toonami. I've also read that the manga never finished serializing in the north america. However, it finished in other western languages like german and spanish.

Censoring:

The anime censors A LOT. From Gokudera's smoking habit, Yamamoto's whole character arc which deals with heavy themes such as depression and suicidal thoughts. The general bloodiness of the manga was censored and sometimes whole chapters and characters were left out even if those were important to the devolopment of others.

Filler episodes:

Out of the 202 episodes the anime has around 29 filler episodes which makes roughly 14 %.

Sexism:

Even if Reborn was written by a woman most female characters are rather flat and their storylines often tied to a male character in one way or another.

Genereal things:

Khr, like many other long running series, is sometimes criticised for a lack of world building or unpopular narrative choices.

6. Hope?

Khr isn't exactly dead. As stated before the series is still very popular in Japan and still gets new merch pretty regulary. There are also petitions floating around for a reboot or a new anime season but those never get a lot of traction. Furthermore #Reborn2期アニメ化 (#Reborn2ndAnimation) used to get some traction on twitter not too long ago. Last year the Anime News Network did a poll on which anime the readers would like to see a rebooot of and khr placed second.

Either way here's a collection of recent khr things I could find.

- In 2018 a new bluray set was released in north america

- The khr stage play reached yet another new season

- A mobile game was released last year

- Currently ongoing anime cafe event called "Concerto di Vongola"

- Last month there was an event with the former VAs and stage play actors where they discussed their favourite khr episodes.

- There has been an increase in blind reacts to the openings on youtube which might bring in a new fan base. The biggest one I could find had around 90k views and was made in 2019. On this note check out the soundtrack. The first openeing Drawing Days by SPLAY still makes me go insane (but I'm biased of course)

There also renewed hope for a new season/reboot because Shaman King, Inuyasha and Bleach got anounced for new seasons after a long hiatus. It's important to keep in mind that the circumstances for those series are differnt tho. For example bleachs new anime is often tied to the immense success of the gatcha game.

7. Conclusion

Khr is a series which used to be a flagship for Weekly Shounen Jump and is deeply beloved by it's fans, especially in Japan. It influenced other shounen series like bnha. It would be nice to see it gaining a bigger fanbase in the west :)

[honeyju]

home run; lee minho

The four times you try to ask Lee Minho to the winter formal, and the one time he asks you. 

genres: fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au, sports au (baseball player minho!!)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: merry christmas!! this is a christmas collab that i’m doing with my friend alice @jjacob​ in which we write for each other’s ult biases! (mine is juyeon, so if you’re interested in the boyz, i recommend reading her story here, especially since our storylines are a bit connected!) i had a lot of fun learning more about minho during the writing process, and i hope this story represents him well <333

TRY ONE: KEEP IT SIMPLE. 

If there’s anyone in the world who knows Lee Minho better than you do, it’s Lee Juyeon. 

The two of them have been joined by the hip for as long as you can remember, and if Minho is the relentless tease, spirited and carefree, Juyeon is the gentle thinker, all sweet smiles and wise words. So that’s how you end up frantically dialing his number at nearly one in the morning, too panicked to consider the possibility of him being asleep. You wait with bated breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times before Juyeon picks up the phone, his breathy laugh greeting you instantly. 

“I was waiting for this.”

Juyeon’s words cause you to let out a small noise of surprise, and his chuckle sounds in your ear, a little choppy and distant-sounding due to the poor connection, but bright nevertheless.

“What do you mean you were waiting for this?”

“Silly girl,” Juyeon says, and you can tell he’s grinning despite not being able to see him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at him when they announced the dance this morning.”

Your face turns red as you recall the mention of the winter formal during the school announcements and the way your head had immediately turned to Minho’s. You were certain that no one else had noticed the longing upon your face when you looked towards your close friend, but hearing Juyeon now leaves you unsure. 

“Was I that obvious?” You groan, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment. 

“I wouldn’t worry that much, it wasn’t too apparent,” Juyeon assures you, and yet the spark of doubt in your mind still lingers. 

“You think he knows?” You question as you run your fingers through your hair. 

“That you like him? I don’t think he’d get that from just one glance.” Perhaps he’s right, for you know that Juyeon is just naturally more perceptive than others, and the things he picks up on don’t tend to be the same as what others notice. 

“I hope you’re right. This isn’t how I wanted him to know,” you groan.

“Oh? So you’re planning on telling him? That’s why you called, right?” You know Juyeon’s teasing you by the tone of his voice, and you resist the temptation to whine at him. 

“Help me ask Minho to the dance, Juyeon,” you plead, trying to let every ounce of your desperation show in your tone, praying that his response will be yes. There’s a pause, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as you await his next words.  

“Well, I can’t exactly ask him for you,” he starts, “but I’ll try to give you some advice.”

“Thank you, Juyeon,” you breathe in relief, switching the call to speaker mode so you can peel it away from your cheek.

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though . . .”

Juyeon trails off without an explanation, and you understand why a few moments later when you catch a flicker of light erupting from your phone out of the corner of your eye. When you lift it up a little higher in your hands, you see that Juyeon has turned his camera on, his face just slightly too close to the camera and his smile filling the screen. You rush to turn yours on as well, switching on a lamp so your face can be seen in the near darkness of the room. After an exchange of waves, Juyeon clears his throat, and even through the blurry quality you catch the blaze in his eyes that suggests he’s gotten idea.

“Y/N, Minho’s at your place right now, isn’t he?” Juyeon asks, and there’s something about his tone that strikes you as a bit too bold for your liking. 

“Well, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, “but I think he’s asleep right now.”

“How about you just ask him whenever he’s awake?” Juyeon suggests, and you raise your eyebrows incredulously as you watch him shrug his shoulders like he’s just told you to do the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you insane?” You shriek, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. Juyeon only laughs, his eyes morphing into crescents and his bunny-like smile widening. “You think I should just ask him like that, no preparations or anything?”

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s nice to make things special, but I think that Minho will appreciate your honest confession more than anything else.” Juyeon’s advice is laced with sincerity, and you don’t need to look at his face in the camera to know that he wants the best for you. 

“I’m blaming you if things go wrong, Lee Juyeon,” you sigh reluctantly. “But I suppose there’s not really any other way to do it.”

“Give it a try,” he encourages. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Juyeon. For picking up so late and for the advice,” you tell him genuinely, and he smiles. 

“Anytime, Y/N.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and your head automatically drops to the table to rest in between your arms.

“Just ask him whenever he’s awake,” you mutter to yourself, “How am I supposed to do that? Oh, good morning Minho, breakfast is over there, and by the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?” 

The words sound stupid no matter how you say them, and you can’t stop yourself from the feeling of hopelessness that strikes you as you trudge back to the bed where you find Minho laying peacefully on his side. You smile, tilting your head as you watch him for a moment until he suddenly turns over so he’s lying on his back, blinking repeatedly until his eyes focus on you.

“You’re back?” His words are hoarse and followed by a yawn, which you laugh at softly. 

“Sorry, Minho, did I keep you up?” 

Minho says nothing and instead pats the space beside him on the bed, to which you oblige, instantly climbing in to lay next to him. He inches closer to you, resting his head next to your shoulder and quietly snuggling into your side. Trying to ignore the way your heart has sped up in response to his figure latching onto yours, you recall Juyeon’s words from before, realizing that he’s awake right now, and perhaps you have a chance. 

“Minho?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you don’t dare to look at him out of fear for your heart. 

“Hmm?” Minho’s response is sleepy, slightly muffled from your shoulder but unbelievably soft. 

“Are you by any chance going with someone to the winter formal?” You ask hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. Minho makes a small noise of disagreement, and you can feel his head shaking against your side as if in extra confirmation.

A relieved sigh falls from your lips, but your next words get stuck in your throat when you come to the realization of just how scary it is to confess. You can’t stop the swarm of worries that hit you, overcome by the question of whether he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend, and if asking him to the dance will jeopardize your relationship with him. You know that you can’t hold your feelings in forever, though, and you think of Juyeon’s kind motivation when you say your next words.

“D’you maybe wanna go to the formal together?”

There’s a heavy silence, your question lingering in the air unanswered, and your heart sinks in your chest at the lack of response. 

“Minho?” You try again quietly. Dread overtakes you as you guess that perhaps his silence is a form of his rejection, and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this one. When you turn on your side to face him, however, you find that he’s already fallen back asleep, light snores emitting from his parted mouth. A small smile creeps up your face as you unconsciously lift your hand to stroke his hair, mindlessly dragging your fingers through the silky strands. He leans into your touch, eyes still closed as he mumbles meaningless words out of fatigue and shifts so he’s closer to you.

Maybe tomorrow, you think to yourself, resting your head on the top of his and letting your eyes fall shut as sleep overtakes you.

TRY TWO: MAKE IT SPECIAL.

Your heart pounds as you tug the door open to the café, peeking inside to find the area mostly empty save for a handful of students at the far end. You thank the heavens for appearing just on time, the familiar sight instantly soothing your nerves. You set the large plastic bag you’d brought along with you on one of the tables, laughing a little as you begin to empty it of its contents one by one. 

“Look at you, Y/N,” you mumble to yourself, “bringing this food and getting all dressed up for a man.” 

The last item in the bag makes you smile, despite yourself, and you pull out the small box of chocolates that you had bought in the morning, setting it down to complete the collection. You marvel at the assortment of treats you’d gotten for him, shaking your head as you sit down to try and calm yourself from the slight tension of it all. Glancing up to check the time in one of the clocks hung up on the wall, you realize with jittery anticipation that he’ll be arriving soon. 

Five minutes pass, and he’s nowhere to be seen. 

You think nothing of it until another ten minutes pass, and you begin to wonder what’s holding him up, trying not to let the feeling of unease get to you as you assure yourself that he might just be running a bit late. Your foot begins to tap quietly against the tiled floor, an anxious habit of yours you’d never managed to quite get rid of. 

Thirty minutes pass, and you pull your phone out from your side pocket, unlocking it to stare at his contact in part hesitation and part concern.

Should I call him?

You weigh out your options, wondering if you’ll sound too demanding if you call to ask if something’s wrong. However, your phone appears to solve the problem for you, the shrill sound of its ringing interrupting you from your thoughts. You jump at the sudden noise, but accept the call instantly upon seeing the caller ID. 

“I was just about to call. Is everything okay?” You ask, and your eyes widen in worry at the sound of Minho panting on the other end.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “I—I’m sorry. Coach is keeping us in an extra hour, and—”

“Slow down, Minho,” you urge, “first catch your breath.”

He hums in agreement, and your face falls when you process his words, realizing the true reason he called. Although you know he’s not the one to blame, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that creeps up inside of you as you glance down at the chocolates and favorite foods of his sitting on the table. 

“You’re saying you can’t make it today, right?” The words come out softer than you mean for them to, and Minho sighs regretfully. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know we have that big game coming up tomorrow, and—look, if you want, I can leave practice.” His voice is gentle, apologetic, and tears sting your eyes upon hearing how willing he is to risk getting kicked from the team for you. 

“No, you can’t,” you shake your head frantically. “I’m not letting you suffer the consequences of that for something this small. Go have fun, okay? We do this regularly anyways, we can just meet up next time.”

You hear a rustle on his end, followed by the voices of his teammates calling out for him. “Are you sure?” Minho asks, a twinge of concern in his tone. 

“I’m sure! Now go, they’re calling you,” you encourage, trying to sound as cheerful as you can to convince him. 

It works, to your relief, for Minho’s next words are bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he ends the call. 

There’s a moment of silence as you look at the goodies once more, before your eyes land upon the box of chocolates, and you pry the lid open to find them already beginning to melt. Reminding yourself that you won’t be seeing him today anyways, and that there’s no use wasting a perfectly good box of chocolates, you pop one of them in your mouth. The corners of your lips tug upwards at the savory taste, and you let out a deep exhale as you remember that you’re not out of ideas just yet. 

“More for me, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to lose hope. “On to try three!”

TRY THREE: GO ALL OUT. 

The sign leaning against your legs serves as a constant reminder of just how whipped you are for Minho, and at times it amazes even you just how far you’re willing to go for him. Making sure no one else can see it, you take yet another glimpse at the cardboard sign you spent the entirety of last night making, lifting it enough for it to rest in your lap. You stare at the bolded words drawn on the surface in capital letters, surrounded by small designs and stickers in a variety of colors. 

I might strike out asking, but will you go to the winter formal with me?

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your throat and you find yourself yet again bewildered by the sheer cheesiness of it all. You can’t bring yourself to raise it, however, telling yourself that tensions are too high right now and that you’ll show him later when there’s no potential of the sign distracting him. You set it back down at your feet, and you look past the sea of people to search for Minho in the group of players on the baseball field. 

Murmurs of “the score is so close,” “we need a home run to win,” and “we’re gonna lose, aren’t we?” echo around you in the stadium, and your mind immediately flashes back to Minho’s words from before the game. 

“If I win, you have to do any one thing that I want for me.” 

You had teased him and asked him what he’d do if he lost, but Minho had only shrugged nonchalantly, telling you that he’d do anything you wanted if that was the case. 

Looking down at him on the field now, you watch as he readies himself at the batter’s box, and despite the near-impossible chance of him securing the team a win, something about the blaze in his eyes tells you that he won’t be losing today. Just before the pitcher can pitch the ball, he looks up towards the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. When he does, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mouth anything, but somehow through his gaze, you already know exactly what he wants to tell you: he’s going to win. 

The pitcher steps forward, raising his leg and leaning back with the ball before he throws it with a single fluid motion. The ball spirals forward towards Minho with immense speed, and you watch breathlessly as he positions himself to hit it. He swings the bat, and a gasp leaves your mouth.

What happens next is a blur, and by the time you can process what’s happening, Minho has already tossed the bat and reached base one. You squint your eyes as you search for the ball, managing to glimpse it right before it falls outside the gates of the field. You cover your mouth with your hands in shock as you look back down to Minho just in time to watch his foot touch the second base. 

“He hit it all the way out!” Shouts and exclamations of surprise reverberate around you as the audience rises to its feet eagerly. 

Base three. 

All attempts to stop him are useless at this point, you realize, for Minho’s already making his way to the final base, his features hardened by determination. Just before he reaches the end, Minho finds you in the crowd once more. His gaze remains locked on yours as he flashes you a small grin, his foot touching the home plate at the exact same moment. 

Home run. 

For an instant, there’s nothing but dead silence, and then the entire audience erupts into applause, the noise turning almost unbearable as it rings in your ears. The edge of the sign scratches against your leg as you stand up, and you’re reminded of the dance as you impulsively grab hold of the cardboard, getting on top of your seat as you prepare to raise it. When you inspect the field one last time to ensure Minho is still there, you find that he’s lost in the arms of his teammates, all shouting excitedly and clapping him on the back among cheers.

Your shoulders slump as you realize that there’s no way he’ll be able to see your sign with all the ruckus, and you dejectedly get down from your seat, making your way off the stands and exiting the stadium. 

As you trudge home, you wonder if you’ll even be able to face him without blushing, let alone ask him to the formal. 

TRY FOUR: NO INTERRUPTIONS. 

The next time you see Minho, you’re stepping through the open door of Chan’s house, and you’re met with the sight of the entire team laughing recklessly, joking around and shoving each other playfully over a set of pizza boxes. Small decorations and streamers are hung up in colors of red and green to highlight the approach of Christmas, and something about the setting makes you feel delightfully warm. It’s somehow exactly the kind of celebration you imagined, and when you look towards the team once again, you find Minho in the center of all the chatter, just as you always do. 

When he catches you standing before them, he freezes, and his gaze morphs into something different, almost hungry, as his eyes slowly trail over your figure from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare seems to burn into you, and you watch in quiet anticipation as he separates himself from the group to walk up to you. 

There are no excuses now, you think. No interruptions, no distractions, no reasons to prevent you from asking him. 

“‘Come to the celebration party at Chan’s place, and I’ll tell you there,’” you greet, quoting his text from hours before, and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. What is it that you want?”

“You look beautiful,” is his response, and your next words are forgotten as your face goes up in flames. 

“I’m glad you think so. It took me a long time to find this dress,” you mumble, staring down at your feet to hide your blush. 

“I’m not talking about the dress,” Minho says, and your eyes widen as you look back up to search his face. He turns away before you can look too hard, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red. “Anyways,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes, “you told me you wanted to ask me something too, right?”

“You first,” you blurt, still too flustered from his compliment to think straight. Your words, however, are drowned out by a particularly loud screech emitting from the other end of the room, followed by the booming laughter of the rest of the team. Furrowing his brows, Minho cups his ear and leans closer to you, prompting you to repeat the words in his ear. Another series of laughs sounds from the room, and Minho takes your hands in his to bring you to a more empty section of the house. 

“Finally,” he breathes when the two of you are safe from disturbances. “I swear, they can get so loud sometimes.”

You giggle at his words. “Tell me what you want for winning,” you urge him, trying to do whatever you can to delay your turn. Minho’s face darkens, and something about the way his gaze turns intense makes your heart race.

“Look up,” he whispers, his hands tightening around yours. You obey, your eyes drifting up as you find yourself staring at what you think could be one of the most beautiful bunches of mistletoe you’ve ever seen, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling under the soft light. You gulp upon realizing its implications, your tongue swiping over your lips out of nervous habit. You look back down to face him, and you find that his expression reflects the same desire he displayed before, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turn up. 

“We can’t break tradition, now can we?” He teases, leaning forward just enough for your noses to touch, his lips barely ghosting over yours so you can feel the warmth of his breath upon your face. When you close your eyes, your own lips parting, he closes the distance. 

Time seems to freeze in place as his soft lips meet yours, his hands dropping to your waist as his lips move slowly against yours. There’s a passion in his kiss that you’re reciprocating before you even know it, and a slight smile shapes his lips that you can’t help but mirror. He’s the first to pull away, resting his forehead on yours for a moment as he catches his breath. 

“You have to do any one thing that I want right?” He breathes. “Go to the winter formal with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes flying open in shock and immediately finding his as you soften at the sincerity in his face. 

“You mean that?” You murmur, and a smirk graces Minho’s features, one you’ve become so familiar with after countless years of him teasing you. 

“’Course I do. That’s what you were gonna ask me too, right?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. You blink for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you process his words. Then it hits you. 

"Juyeon told me I wasn’t being obvious!” You grumble, pouting in dismay. 

“Well,” Minho laughs, “I only had a small idea that you liked me. What confirmed it was that sign you made—I might strike out asking, right? I may have gotten a peek at it when you left to get water before the game.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t look! That’s not fair,” you whine, hitting his shoulder playfully. 

“It’s the reason I’m asking you now though, isn’t it? So tell me, Y/N. Will you go to the dance with me?” Minho smiles softly, the light in his eyes is akin to that of the mistletoe berries gleaming above you. You can’t stop your mouth from pulling into a wide grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer to you, letting your lips answer his question as they meet his once more. 

LEE MINHO; TRY ONE: SUCCESS!

[shinsorokiri]

Can we have a headcannons of shinso,hawks, aizawa, and dabi finds out their female s/o (s/o has a really powerful quirk) was badly injured by an unknown villain and s/o were not going to able use her quirk anymore. By the time their s/o wake up, s/o Actually lost all of her Memories, please?

Shinsou, Hawks, Aizawa, and Dabi HCs

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of stab wounds, sad bois

A/N: This was a trip to write! This was the first time I ever wrote for anyone other than Shinsou, so I hope I did okay! I changed it a little so the reader lost all/most of her memories in regards to her s/o because I didn’t want to go so far back as to take away absolutely everything including her memories on how to walk, talk, etc. because could you imagine how genuinely traumatic that would be? I would have no idea how to properly write about that. Also, the villain is similar to Ty Lee from Avatar: The Last Airbender. They’re able to block someone’s chi flow, and in doing so are able to take away a quirk and people’s memories. I hope this is to your liking, and thank you so much for requesting!!

shinsou hitoshi | mindjack

After graduating UA the two of you immediately became underground heroes

And of course who better to train under than Aizawa

But in all seriousness

You two were a force to be reckoned with

The mix of your insanely powerful quirk and his with his top notch physical combat skills really came in handy for catching and apprehending criminals

The only problem was that you two constantly tried to save each other

If anything went wrong

One of you guaranteed would sacrifice yourselves to save each other

And so far it hadn’t been anything too bad

A few broken bones

A couple of scars

Lots of reprimanding on both ends

But today was different

You and Shinsou were fighting a new villain

And his hand to hand combat rivaled Shinsou’s

And while they were fighting

You saw him about to strike Shinsou on the back of his neck

You being you

Jumped in the way

Instead getting whatever punch that villain was about to throw

You thought that was it

Until you felt the villain hit you a few more times

And you fell down on the ground

But hey that’s nothing

You can still defend yourself with your quirk

Obviously

But wait

Why isn’t your quirk working?

What is going on?

You keep trying to activate your quirk but literally nothing is happening

Which is not good

Especially considering the villain has his attention focused all on you now

“Hitoshi! He-”

You can’t even finish your sentence before the villain is hurting you

And they’re hurting you bad

Hitoshi catches him in his binding cloth as fast as he can

But not before the villain knocks you unconscious

The craziest thing Hitoshi noticed was that the villain knocked you unconscious with just one hit to the back of the neck

The one he tried to use on him earlier

Weird

Hitoshi keeps him trapped in his binding cloth

And is high-key glaring at this dude

“What did you do to her?!”

The villain just laughs

No response

And Hitoshi can’t help it

His anger overtook him

And next thing he knew

The bad guy was also unconscious on the ground

Oops

He runs over to you

Saying your name to see if your responsive

Which you aren’t

Which scares him

He notifies the hero agencies in the area about the villain

And waits until some of them show up before hurrying you to the hospital

Luckily you have a pulse

You’re just very beat up right now

And for some reason you weren’t using your quirk earlier

Hitoshi noticed that

He also noticed the fear in your voice when you screamed his name

That was uncharacteristic of you

Regardless he gets you to the hospital

And they take you back right away

The best healing quirks in the place get to work on you as soon as possible

All the while Hitoshi just waits

He’s absolutely terrified

He can’t lose you

You’ve been the best thing in his life since high school

There’s absolutely no way he can lose you and make it out okay

He’s notified that you’re in stable condition

But probably won’t wake up for a few days

And that when they did a scan of your brain to see if you had a concussion or brain damage

Something seemed wrong with it

Parts of your brain that should be working just weren’t

And of course that freaked him out

But he pretended like he understood everything

In front of the doctor at least

When he was in the room with you alone though?

Boy was sobbing

He was a mess

All he wanted was to turn back time and make sure none of this ever happened

He blames himself

Of course he does

He was there

And he still couldn’t save you

He stays by your side for the next multiple days

He will be there when you wake up

And every day you’re getting better

And eventually

You wake up

now he’s ecstatic when you wake up

Even though you look very confused

You’re awake

That’s the best thing ever

“Oh my god (Y/n) you had me so worried I thought you were never going to wake up again and I was just so freaked out and-”

“Shinsou? Why do you look, like… older…?”

Wait

What

Two things

You haven’t called him Shinsou in years

The last time you did was probably a few weeks into you two dating

Then you made the transfer to Hitoshi

Because you were his girlfriend

Granted you started dating your third year at UA

But you were friends for a year before that

And older?

What was that supposed to mean?

“Uh… what do you mean…?”

“You don’t look seventeen anymore… you look like… a little older? What’s going on?”

Seventeen

Did you think that he was seventeen?

What

He must have look confused

Because you started blushing

He always found it cute when he made you blush like that

Not making sense in front of him was something that you hated because he would turn it around and make fun of your for it later

But he didn’t like it right now

“(Y/n)… have we graduated UA yet…?”

“What? No… we’re in our second year… right…?”

Ouch

Big fucking ouch

You think you’re still in high school

And to make matters worse

It’s the year before you two started dating

You don’t remember anything you two have done together

At all

“Shinsou… are you crying?”

Shit

He didn’t even realize there were tears coming out of his eyes

“Uh… yeah. Um. We’re not in high school anymore. We graduated.”

He presses the call nurse button

And then a nurse and a doctor come in the room

You look at him with a confused expression as he just stares at the ground

The best parts of his life are gone from your memory

That’s what the doctor meant by parts of your brain weren’t working

And he was devastated

And maybe this had something to do with you not using your quirk during the fight

The only thing he could think about was going to the prison that villain was in

And he didn’t care what he had to do

He would get answers from him

He would find a way to fix this

He had to

aizawa shouta | eraser head

Workplace romances are such a cliché

But that didn’t stop you and Shouta

I mean how could it when he looked like that

Y’all had lowkey crushes on each other ever since you first met each other two years ago

But it escalated into something much more intense

Not that either of you were complaining

And yes

The kids did ship you two

And yes

The kids were scared of both of you

But they loved how strong and how protected they felt with both of you around

And they loved how strong and protected the two of you were over each other every time ether of you saw any danger

You were there to save him

And he was always there to save you from whatever was about to happen to you

He only didn’t make it in time the one moment it mattered the most

The League of Villains infiltrated the school again

And this time at night

When all the teachers were supposed to be sleeping

But fortunately for your students

You and Aizawa had been on edge and taking shift staying up all night to make sure they were safe

And you were awake the moment the League popped in

You immediately got to work

Easily taking down many of the villains

And in the commotion

Aizawa woke up

Along with many of the other pro-hero teachers

So everything should have been fine

That is until a new villain appeared

No one has seen this person before now

And they took no time in fighting you

You were the one who stopped all the others after all

And they were very agile

Very good at hand to hand combat

Aizawa saw what was happening and tried to rush over to assist you

But before he could get there the villain grabbed you

And hit you in multiple points of your body

Aizawa saw panic flash through your eyes as you fell to the ground

You held our your hand to use your quirk

But nothing happened

You tried again

But there was nothing

And that’s when the villain started mercilessly beating you!

Love it

And Aizawa couldn’t even help

Because another villain started going after Aizawa

Which meant he couldn’t get to you

All he could do was hear you getting hurt

And see it out of the corner of his eye while fighting off the villain

It didn’t take him long to capture the villain

But it took long enough

When he ran over to you

You were on the verge of being unconscious

And the villain hit you in the back of your neck

And a weird light thing emitted from their fingertips

And you were knocked out

The villain was about to attack Aizawa

But before they could they were pulled back into one of Kurogiri’s portals

And then they were gone

Aizawa picked you up

Wincing at how bloody, bruised, and broken you looked

Genuinely very panicked

He rushed to the infirmary

And Recovery Girl was woken up in the commotion

Waiting to heal a broken bone or two

She was not expecting to see what Aizawa brought to her

She went to work as soon as you got there, though

Healing most of your injuries

But she could just

Sense that something was wrong

Something was very unnatural about you right now

She let Aizawa know something was wrong

And he started panicking right away

What did she mean something is wrong?

What could that possibly even mean?

He found out that one of the things that meant

Was that you weren’t going to wake up for a few days

Recovery Girl would help heal you every day

Constantly trying to help you wake up

But that weird off feeling never left her

And then you woke up

And after talking with you for five minutes

She knew exactly what was wrong

And then she asked you to use your quirk

And she realized just how genuinely bad this situation you were in was

She went to Aizawa’s class

Calling him out to the hall

He was in the middle of lecturing 1-A

But he left without hesitation

“Did she wake up?”

“Yes… but-”

“But? There’s a but?”

Now Aizawa usually never interrupts Recovery Girl

But this was about you

And she knew that

So she didn’t sass him for once

“She doesn’t remember the past few years of her life.”

“…What?”

“She… she doesn’t know who you are, Aizawa.”

He’s quiet

You didn’t know who he was?

“And she still can’t use her quirk… I don’t know what that villain did to her, but she’s showing no signs in regaining anything. Besides, she didn’t even have a concussion or anything and I’ve never seen a quirk like hers just… get taken away like this.”

Aizawa still says nothing

He’s hearing everything

But he doesn’t really feel like doing anything right now

He just wants to zip himself up in his sleeping bag

I mean

He truthfully just wants to hold you

But now that you don’t know who he is?

That probably wouldn’t go well

And he is not taking it well

He goes back in his room

But he doesn’t resume the lecture

He just says that they’re going to study quietly for the rest of the day

He doesn’t care right now

Besides they do have exams coming up and knowing over half of these kids they could use some goddamn study time

But they can tell something is just wrong

Especially when he just curls up in his sleeping bag

He makes sure to face away from them so they don’t see his tears

Of course after around fifteen minutes of this

Present Mic comes in

He heard about what happened

So he told Aizawa he was there to take over his class

Aizawa left without a word

And beyond his better judgement

He went to the infirmary

He stood outside for a few minutes before Recovery Girl came to the door

“If you want to see her you can, I’m sure she’d love to know who she’s been intimate with for the past year and a half of her life.”

He nods

Making sure he doesn’t look too much like shit

Then walking in

Sure enough you’re awake

But when you look at him he doesn’t see the usual sparkle you get in your eye

And instead of the smile that screams ‘that’s my boyfriend!’

It’s just a polite smile

“Hi… I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

“Yes.”

His voice comes out quieter than he intended

It’s hard to hear that come from you

And he isn’t necessarily happy that it’s coming from you

“Oh… well, um… this is awkward but-”

“I know you don’t remember. And that’s okay. I just… wanted to see you.”

He doesn’t really want to come out and say ‘hey! you’re my girlfriend! we’re in love! i love you!’

But he knows he’ll have to

He could stay quiet

But that wouldn’t be fair to you

And he hates keeping things from you

“Oh? Would you mind telling me who you are?”

He takes a deep breath

Clearing his throat to fight back the tears threatening to start again

He won’t cry in front of you, though

He won’t let himself

He doesn’t want to make it worse for you

“I’m Aizawa Shouta, and we’ve been a couple for the past year and a half. I don’t know if I should have told you that, but honesty is just really important to me and well… I never lied to you or kept anything from you before and I’m not about to start doing that now.”

You stare at him without saying anything for what feels like forever

Until you finally speak again

“Could you… tell me about our relationship…? I have to admit, you’re a very attractive man, so… I’m willing to try if you are.”

Damn

Now he’s crying

And as much as he wants all of your memories to come back

He doesn’t care if they do

He doesn’t even care if you want to actually take him back

All he knows is that you’re never getting hurt again

No matter if it kills him

He’ll keep you safe now

No matter what

keigo takami | hawks

Keigo always worried about you

He couldn’t help it

It’s just the way he is

But no matter how much he worries he always knows that you’re strong and you can defend yourself

I mean, you were one of the best pro-heroes in the field

And yes

He did constantly brag about how you were amazing

He just preferred when you were amazing with him

That way he can assist in making sure you are okay

And in his worrying he may sometimes fly around where you’re patrolling just to check in

He also just misses seeing your face sometimes

Someone is whipped

But yeah he was flying around where you were on patrol today

Just looking to see you and maybe swoop down and annoy you for a bit

But for some reason he can’t??? seem???? to find you????

And now he was concerned and alert

It’s very unlike you to not be where you’re supposed to be

You’re very passionate about helping people after all

He circles keeps flying around until he spots on of your sidekicks

Who admittedly looks very stressed

He lands next to them

Scaring the shit out of them in the process

“Hey kid, any idea where (Y/n) might be? Haven’t seen her and I circled this area like seven times.”

Your sidekick doesn’t say anything for a second

Because they’re thinking of how to phrase what happened

And that extra moment of silence just proved to Keigo that something was definitely wrong

“Where is (Y/n)?”

Keigo’s fun loving demeanor everyone loves s completely gone

He looks very serious

It’s only to cover how scared he is though

Doesn’t mean your sidekick isn’t intimidated

“We were all fighting this villain who made their first appearance today and uh… they kind sorta maybe did something that may have taken away (Y’n)’s quirk and then they kinda ‘made an example of her’ and now she’s in the hospital…”

Keigo immediately takes off for the hospital

He doesn’t even say anything else to your poor sidekick who now thinks Hawks is going to hate them for not helping you

When his phone was constantly buzzing he just assumed it was the Hero Commission getting on his ass for posting that picture of you and him kissing on instagram

So he just let it buzz

He never even looked at his screen

Until now of course

And just as he expected

All the buzzing?

Actually missed calls from you

If he would have checked, then maybe you wouldn’t be hurt

He’s at the hospital in like

Five seconds flat

Don’t underestimate his already speedy self when it comes to you

He hurries in and sees another one of your sidekicks about to leave

“Where is she?”

Your other sidekick points in the direction, telling him your room

He’s about to sprint there when suddenly your other sidekick stops him

“Hawks, I just need to warn you. It’s… pretty bad. Not only did the villain beat her within an inch of her life but she wasn’t able to use her quirk at all after he did this weird hitting pattern thing. She’s probably not going to wake up for some time.”

Keigo just stares at them

And they hurry away

Which causes him to deadass RUN to your hospital room

Sure enough you’re lying there

Lots of machines hooked up to you

He expected it to be bad

But he didn’t expect it to be this bad

He hurries over to you

Grabbing a random chair and sliding it so he could be at your bedside

And he carefully grabs your hand

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he tastes his tears

He could have prevented this

If he would have just come to see you a little bit earlier

If he would have just checked his phone

This is how he feels about the entire situation for the rest of his life

Especially for the two weeks you were unconscious in a hospital bed

Luckily, you were a graduate from UA and when Recovery Girl heard what happened she began helping your healing process

It definitely sped up your recovery a lot

And Keigo was very grateful

He just wanted to talk to you again

Maybe even hug him if he weren’t in deep shit for unintentionally ignoring your calls

So imagine how sad he got when he came to the hospital after his patrol (like he did every day) only to find out you woke up without him being there

Bird boi did a big sad

But he was anxious to finally talk to you again

At this point he would be genuinely happy if you started yelling at him

He missed you 🥺

He made his way to your room

Nervous but excited to see you again

When suddenly

A doctor stops him

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m her boyfriend, I’ve been coming here every-”

“I know. I just need to prepare you for what you’re about to see. Something that that villain did cut off her connection to the part of her brain that has the knowledge and information of her quirk, meaning she has no recollection on how to access it. Now she remembers having a quirk, and not being able or knowing how to use it has been very upsetting for her... how long have you two been together?”

“One year.”

“How long have you known her?”

“We met two and a half years ago when she first became a pro... why?”

Keigo isn’t stupid

He has an idea why the doctor is asking this

But he doesn’t want it to be true

“The villain also cut the connection of her brain that consists of her long term memory. Fortunately, it didn’t make her forget too much...”

Oh thank god, for a second Keigo though that you wouldn’t remem-

“Just the past two years... but I’m sure she’ll still be happy to see you.”

Keigo stares at the doctor with a blank face

The past two years?

That means that you’ll barely know him

Yeah you guys got along before you started dating

Obviously you were friends

Keigo doesn’t trust easily so entering a real relationship with someone he just met is a no go

But this means that so much of what you two have is just

Gone

“Uh... Hawks?”

The doctor is looking down at his arm to which Keigo follows the gaze

Somewhere in his thoughts he latched onto this man’s arm

To be fair he was doing everything in his power to have a mental break right then and there

He let go

“Sorry. I... can I still see her?”

“Yes, just try not to confuse her, please?”

Hawks nods

He walks in the room and sees you sitting up

You’re gazing out the window when you turn your head to look at him

The shock is evident in your face

“Hawks? What are you doing here?”

Two years was before you knew his real name

Ouch

“Thought you could use the company. After all, not many heroes get attacked by an unknown villain and survive.”

“Did Miruko set you up to this? Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to-“

“I’ve had my fair share of close calls, dove, but... I never had to go what you’re going through, and I need to be here to help. Helping people is what I do, after all.”

He sees a small smile break out across your face

“Thank you.”

The two of you talk for a few hours

He catches you up on everything he can

But he can’t bring himself to let you know about your relationship

Or maybe he just can’t say out-loud that you don’t remember who he really is

Maybe it would just hurt too much

Regardless, he has to leave eventually

And when he does he makes it a point to find out who this villain was that just uprooted yours and his lives

And he knows just the person to ask

todoroki touya | dabi

Heroes destroy everything

That’s what Dabi has always thought

And he’s not about to change his mind any time soon

Especially after what happened to you

He normally doesn’t get attached to people

But your annoying ass somehow managed to cling to him

And after about six months he didn’t mind it

He actually really enjoyed it

Not that he’d ever tell you just how much he enjoyed it

But you were the first and only person he’s even let near the real him

So even though he’s a little shit who pretends he doesn’t care about anything

When it comes to you

It’s very obvious just how much he gives a fuck

Which is why the series of events that happened to you absolutely destroyed him

It was just a normal day like any other

He was at the hideout while you and a few others were on a mission for the League

Now was he okay with you going on this mission without him?

Not necessarily

But it turns out that’s what happened anyways

To be fair Dabi did go a little too hard on his last mission and he’s still recovering

But he was still pissed he couldn’t go

Regardless, Dabi was waiting for you and the rest of the League to come back

Casually sitting on the couch

Smoking a cigarette in solitude

When suddenly

The rest of the League burst through one of Kurogiri’s portals

And to say they were frantic was an understatement

Dabi looks over

His usual uninterested expression present on his face

Until he sees who Magne is carrying

Spoiler: it’s you

And you’re unconscious

And you lowkey look dead

And that is the reason his cigarette literally bursts into flames

He’s snatching you from Magne before any of the other villains even have the chance to start speaking

“What the fuck happened.”

He doesn’t necessarily ask

He more demands to know

Shigaraki walks past him, obviously annoyed because he’s scratching at his neck again

“There’s a new Underground Hero after us.”

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me right now, why does my girlfriend look fucking dead you fucking-“

“She threw herself at the hero because unlike you, she somewhat understands that me ending up like how she is right now would put an end to this entire thing.”

Dabi glares at Shigaraki

So the reason the only person he’s ever trusted in this world is severely injured is Shigaraki

“Why wouldn’t you-”

“She’s faster than me. Or she was. Whatever the hero did took away her quirk. That’s why she’s like that. Now leave me alone, I need to reevaluate everything now because of this little incident…”

Shigaraki starts muttering as he walks to his room

Dabi glares at the others before taking you into his room

He lays you on his bed and assesses you for injuries

He isn’t the best at treating things

But the deep cuts where it seems like you could bleed out at any second?

He can help with those

You’re probably going to kill him for the scars, though

He doesn’t really have time to think about that though considering you’re dying on him

He immediately begins cauterizing your wounds

For like the first time ever the familiar scent of burnt flesh makes him frown

But it’s only because he knows that it’s your flesh that’s burning

He carefully removes your destroyed villain costume

Placing you in one of his hoodies

Specifically the one he knows you love

Even though he barely lets you wear it because he knows you love it and he loves to piss you off

You always say it smells like him and you like it

Which he doesn’t really understand because he doesn’t wear cologne and he’s pretty sure he reeks of cigarettes, burning flesh, and alcohol

But you say there’s a comforting kind of campfire smell mixed in there too

Plus, he wears deodorant so there’s that smell too

He figures you’ll appreciate it when you wake up

If you wake up

He begins bandaging you up

He’s very careful to clean everything to ensure nothing becomes infected

Of course he’s just recalling what you do for him from memory

He’s hoping he’s doing well

After he finishes all that, he checks to see if you have any broken bones

Much to his relief, it doesn’t seem like it

Just a lot of bruises in random places

And y’know

Several severe puncture wounds

At least none of them were in lethal places

Damn heroes and their ways of not killing unless absolutely necessary

Just severely injuring

It’s obvious that that hero was trying to prove a point in hurting you like this

But how did he even manage to get you?

You’re usually so quick in fights because your quirk

Oh

Yeah

Shigaraki said something about your quirk being gone or something?

Dabi is sure it’s only for a day

Maybe two

It’s not for good...

Right...?

He sighs, getting into his bed with you

He gently pulls you against him

He wants you to know you’re safe when you wake up

As safe as you can be in a bar full of villains and with one of the most dangerous and angry ones holding you in his arms of course

He also just wants to know that you’re here

And you’re okay

Because you have to be okay

He glances at the clock in his room

And sees that it’s late

He should sleep

Key word should

But he’s a little preoccupied in his mind going through the ways he’s going to torture and kill whoever did this to you

And this goes on for a week

He doesn’t sleep

He barely eats

He spends all his time with you

Anyone who gives him shit gets a new burn mark on them

Sorry not sorry Twice

He makes sure to change your bandages and check in on your every day

Which is very unlike him

And he knows it

And honestly he hates it

But you’re special to him

And even though he’s a heartless piece of shit who loves to make fun of you and pretend like he doesn’t care

He does

He really does

So imagine how happy he feels when one day he’s holding you

Like he always does

And then you twitch

He immediately sits up, staring down at you

And sure enough, you open your eyes

He can’t hide the small smile that spreads across his face

“Looks like someone’s lazy ass decided it was time to finally wake up.”

He expects to hear one of your sarcastic quips about how you were just brutally beat and how you don’t need his snarky comments at a time like this

But you just stare at him

And you look... confused?

“What’s wrong, doll?”

His voice changes from sarcastic to concerned

Why were you being quiet?

You were never quiet with him

“I’m sorry it’s just... who are you?”

He genuinely feels like his heart stops beating

That’s not a cute thing to do to him

“Very funny, (Y/n). Can you see how amused I am? How much I’m laughing at this shitty attempt of a joke.”

“I’m being serious, asshole. Who the fuck are you, where the fuck am I, and why does everything hurt so much?”

He freezes

“You really don’t remember me...?”

“Should I?”

“Considering I’m your fucking boyfriend, yeah. You should.”

“Oh. Well, sorry. No idea who you are. Don’t even know your name and, wait boyfriend? I have a boyfriend?”

Okay this is officially not a joke now

He tries to get what happened out of you

But, as he expected, you have no idea

He clenches his fist

A flame appearing

“Woah there, hotshot, calm down. You’re still sexy as hell even if I can’t remember you, so you have a good chance with me again. Just... tell me where I am? What’s going on? Your name...? Why the eerie smell of deaht mixed with a campfire is actually very soothing to me right now?”

He tells you everything

And that campfire comment low-key made his heart swell because awwww his little crazy doll is just genuinely crazy and enjoys the smell without even knowing it’s his how sweet 🥺

But he has to ask Toga for help to explain what happened to you

And he realizes that wow

If your memory is gone then your quirk is probably definitely gone too

He leaves you with Toga so she can tell you all about how good of friends you two are

And goes to Shigaraki’s room

He doesn’t even knock before entering but before Shigaraki can scream at him Dabi asks a simple question

“Where can I find this new hero?”

[betweenmuses]

“Which answer would you rather hear?” Renan was a flirty man by nature, he just couldn’t help it, and even if his intentions were to drown his sorrows over the stupid break up text, that didn’t mean this handsome man didn’t deserve some of his charm. Hell, flirting helped pull him out of the pit of desperation and despair that getting dumped put him in, so this gorgeous man was helping him in more ways than one. Even if his methods were a little unorthodox because Renan couldn’t remember the last time (there wasn’t one) when a man brought him to a hot dog stand to eat his feelings in the form of a smothered, loaded hot dog. When he’d heard the other order two with everything on them, well here Renan was thinking just ketchup, mustard, maybe some onions and relish, but when they were presented to both men, well didn’t Renan’s eyes get to be the size of silver dollars. “You can’t be serious with this thing, I don’t even think my mouths big enough to take it all in,” he brought the hot dog near his face, opened his mouth, and tried to gauge just how much bigger than mound of toppings were then he’d anticipated. He couldn’t help but snort and giggle though, “…that’s what he said.” Might as well make a joke because it worked, and Renan was most definitely impressed with the amount of food handed to him.

“It’s not that I don’t know how to properly eat a hot dog, it’s just that I am not sure how to eat one that’s got the entire contents of a refrigerator on top.” He was getting excited to try it though, unsure of what the taste would be as everything mixed and mingled in his mouth. “No judgement if I make an insane mess, do we have a deal?” He asked, though as he glanced over to watch Walter devour his first bite, the dribble of condiments still on his face afterwards, how adorable he looked even with a messy face - he understood that there would in fact be no judgement. “Here goes nothing,” with that he sized it up one more time, tilted his head to the side, angled the hot dog, and took one large bite so that he could taste the whole damn thing all at once. Holy hell, it was such a wild mix of flavors that worked so well together, a soft appreciative hum falling from his lips as he savored the bite that was in his mouth. When the other rose his voice though it startled the hell out of Renan, the man freezing for a moment as he was trying to make heads or tails of what had just happened, though he finally processed what the other had said, forgetting that had been his goal in the first place for a minute, though he could only chuckle and shake his head. “Didn’t even take ten minutes, I’m disappointed I couldn’t hold out longer, does that mean you’re going to be running off now that you’ve accomplished your goal, or do I get you for a little more time?” His voice sounded hopeful, though he knew they were on borrowed time considering the man was only on break, his shift wasn’t entirely over. When the bartender asked the reason behind his previous mood all Renan could do was frown again, “there was this guy,” he started before taking another bite, giving himself time to chew between phrases. “We really hit it off, went on a two week vacation together,” barely left the hotel room, but that didn’t need to be shared out loud, “apparently I was just another notch on his belt and when the fun was over, so were we,” he shrugged, “he couldn’t even call me, he broke up with me over text, can you believe it?” That was the part that hurt the worst, especially after that whirlwind vacation and the things said behind closed doors. “Can only blame myself, I guess, for letting it get that deep.”

“Oh… a burn!” Walter laughed at the jab taken to his name and he really didn’t mind it one bit. Sure, his name was the sort of name that one would use in those old black-and-white movie classics but at the same time…how many people had a name like that? It was frozen in time. It was classic. And maybe his parents were actually addicted to those old school movies and his mom may or may not had a crush on a character named Walter - thus the name – and maybe he had inquired his parents of why Walter when he was five years old, and maybe he got a little more information than he required by learning he was conceived while they were watching a movie with a character named WALTER. Not that he needed to share all of that. But there was a story behind the name. Maybe one day he would share it. Or not. But regardless of how hilarious that story would be, Walter’s eyebrows quirked up at the sudden proximity by the hotdog stand with mentions of slapping and spanking. Oh… Oh… “Are you always this flirty with someone who threatens to slap your wallet away from your hand or am I special case?” Walter was flattered by the flirting – heck the other guy was attractive, sue him – but he didn’t invite him to eat hotdogs as an excuse to get him all hot and bothered.

“Wait, are you serious? You don’t KNOW how to properly eat a hotdog? I am shook!” Walter laughed yet again, his pristine and musical laugh catching the attention of a few bystanders but he really didn’t give a damn. “Oh, you are in for a treat. One of those out of body experiments, you know?” The bartender nudged the man playfully on the shoulder before taking the first bite. It was messy and crunchy with the fries on top and he was pretty damn sure that he had ketchup, mayo and mustard running down his chin as he chewed… but Walter did not care. “You shmust gu fer it.” It was rude to talk with his mouth full and he was aware that what he was saying was barely perceptible – but he had to make a point. One just goes for it when it comes to hotdogs from one of the best carts in town. “Ye munch!” Another bite and Walter was struggling to wipe his chin at the same time, not at all embarrassed of the mess he was creating. But all of a sudden – Walter paused just for enough time to swallow the food he had in his mouth and point in a somewhat overly dramatic fashion to the other man’s face. “AH! MADE YOU LAUGH!” He had promised he would made him smile and turn that frown into a smile. Shit, he was good. “I told you I would make you smile after seeing you all grumpy at the bar! I succeeded!” And he didn’t even care if the man had business with his boss. That probably meant more work for him in the future but work was good! He liked to work. “Can I ask now why you were looking all gloomy? Not that it really matters since I made you LAUGH but…”

[thefanficmonster]

Real Friends

Valkyrae & Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: SMAU, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following an accidental and not very consensual face reveal, Y/N’s dealing the sudden shift of the spotlight on him even more than it was before. Being the big deal he is on social media, the internet has every right to be freaking out. Luckily, he’s got a friend to help him cope with it all.

Requested by @iawaythrown Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for how long it has taken me to complete your request and post it but here it finally is. I’ve never written a SMAU before so this isn’t the classic SMAU format but I still hope you’ll enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Imagine you end a toxic relationship of almost a year and go to bed feeling like a ton of bricks has been lifted off you, like you can finally breathe properly and like you’re finally getting a taste of freedom. The very freedom you chose to lose by getting in the toxic relationship in the first place. Of course, I didn’t know it was toxic at the time, probably cause it wasn’t, but it gradually turned into a nightmare.

A nightmare that keeps haunting me even after I thought I had put an end to it.

Apparently, that was wishful thinking cause I woke up this morning to find an unbelievable number of notifications and messages from friends, family and my manager and associates. Being in the music industry as a faceless creator, I keep my circle tight and it only consists of people I can trust so to see them all freaking out at me at once, even the most level-headed ones, freaked me out too. Quickly, I opened the first notification I reflexively tapped on and it opened a post in which someone had tagged me.

A picture taken of me while I was asleep, no doubt one taken by my ex. That being said, I think we can all have a guess at who posted it in the first place. I didn’t listen to my manager when he told me to not allow anyone I trust 1000% into my inner circle. I was foolish and at the peak of my career, feeling on top of the world and feeling invincible which was rare for me. I’ve always been insecure about many things in my life, growing up with a lot of judgy people made me be that way. Not to mention that I didn’t want to be the victim of the internet’s racism either. People turn a blind eye most of the time, but it’s still there, it still exists and looms over all social media platforms, disturbing people’s peace left and right.  You see, I didn’t want people to have an opinion of my art based on my appearance or associations with other creators. I’m pretty good friends with many content creators, especially in the gaming industry, but I’ve never wanted to be put in a box as one of the many friends of someone famous. I made a name for myself without anyone knowing who I am exactly.

And now they all know because of this photo that my ex sent to float down the rivers of hungry social media:

Damn am I gonna get an earful from my manager or what. It’s still rater early though and I’m really not about to deal with this drama on a caffeine-free brain so if there are any calls, emails or messages that need answering - and yes, there are PLENTY of them - they’ll all have to wait until I feel like dealing with them. I’m glad I don’t have to keep up this unbothered charade at home since I live alone cause I seriously don’t feel ok with this. I mean, I could probably report it, but what use would that be when my brand now has a face and a huge chunk of my privacy has already surfaced against my will.

As I sit in my kitchen, sipping my coffee, I finally gather the nerve to at least scroll through the notifications that I’ve received. Fans reaching out, relatives, friends, pissed off people that are there just to exist and try to disturb my peaceful existence but all they’re gonna get is a hard DELETE from me. I have offers on top of offers for modeling pending, waiting on my response. I’ve never considered it, being a faceless creator and all, but my manager will definitely want to milk some cash from this too. That thought makes me sigh in defeat. I have no one to blame but myself for trusting my ex. No one made me do it, no one made me let them in, but I still did, fucking myself over insanely. Just like they’ve now fucked me over.

Amongst the sea of notifications and yet to be opened messages, one in particular stands out and makes me do a double take. It’s a message from my friend Rae - Valkyrae, as she’s known online. She’s one of those gamer friends I mentioned earlier, probably the one I’m closest with. Her and I talk on the regular so seeing a message from her in my inbox is nothing unusual so I wonder why that was the one that stuck out to me. Regardless, that’s the only one I feel like opening and replying to at the moment.

V ~ Hey Y/N, you doing ok? This all must be really hard on you so don’t feel obligated to reply. Do so when you can or want to. I’m here if you wanna talk

Of course Rae would be the one to know how I truly feel in a situation like this. I can act and cover up all I want but she knows exactly what’s underneath the surface of my façade. That third eye friends have for each other, it’s incredible.

Me ~ Doing ok. Wasn’t expecting to wake up to this but now that millions of people know what I look like it feels oddly bittersweet, you know? Like I don’t have to go out of my way to hide anymore but I’m also gonna miss that privacy I had while I was a phantom

Me ~ On the upside: people want me to be a model now XD

My message goes to Seen almost write away, the Typing icon appearing shortly after the messages were read. I wait for Rae’s reply, sipping my slowly cooling coffee with little interest due to how invested I am in our conversation. If there’s a person who can make light of this situation, it’s Rae, no doubt about it.

V ~ I know what you mean. It’s not gonna be easy to adjust to but you will get used to it eventually. I’m sure you’ll even grow to like it. Promise you, it’s not that scary to be exposed, there’s literal millions of people who support you wholeheartedly :) 

V ~ Us, your friends, are here too! Never forget that, we’ve always got your back, Y/N!

V ~ Oh and you really should be a model! Whoever’s saying that has got the right idea. Maybe don’t fear this new change, but embrace it! Take this new turn in your life confidently. Sure, it was out of the blue, but do you really want the person who exposed you to feel the satisfaction of bringing you down? That doesn’t sound like you at all tbh

The epiphany strikes me as soon as Rae’s words sink in as I read them. She’s 100% right. The last thing I want is for my ex to think they’ve won. I refuse to give them the pleasure of tasting victory on the expense of my mental health and career progress. In fact, imma show them just how much they benefited me. But first...

Me ~ Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this eye-opener

Me ~ I owe you one <3

I sure as hell owe her one, but for now I have other battles to win.

Rifling through my gallery, I find one more recent picture and without a shred of doubt or hesitation, I go straight to Instagram to post it.

~ “Since y’all were curious...And since y’all wanna see me model, you’re welcome” ~

Within seconds likes and comments start flowing in like a riptide, taking over my phone that, despite being charged all night, is already at half of its battery life.

I refresh the page with the post to look at the new comments that have come through, all supportive and complimenting me, some are real thirsty and some are incredibly kind. And even in that sea, her comment still sticks out to me, making me grin like an idiot.

“That’s what I was talking about! Work it, Y/N!“

[cha-melodius]

Napollya: “Do you trust me?”

(Hello Anon, and also @heytheredeann, who requested this trope in her original ask as well! This fic takes place on the Istanbul mission immediately following the movie, and is inspired in part by the photos in the credits and the fact that they apparently went to some Turkish baths while they were there. I meant to post the photos in this response as well, but tumblr is being a bitch, so sorry about that! The whole fic is posted below, as usual, and it's about 3.5k. Why do these things keep getting longer?? I hope you both enjoy!)

I Trust No One (And Especially You)

Read on AO3

The worst part is that it’s mostly Illya’s fault.

He wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t gotten all antsy about having no way to bug or keep track of Napoleon in the bathhouse and insisted on accompanying him this time. The prospect initially annoyed Napoleon, who took it as a slight on his ability to both get the job done and take care of himself, even though Illya tried to convey that it wasn’t. Of course, he hadn’t been able to properly express what it was, since it was either that or he’s started worrying a little more than he should over a man who normally would be his enemy, and neither of those was a particularly good thing to admit.

So in the end it was Illya’s own dubious choices that had led him to this moment, much as he might like to put the blame elsewhere. The baths themselves had been fine—would have been pleasantly relaxing, under other circumstances—but then they’d taken the unexpected opening to go rifle through their targets’ clothes and, as such, had not really considered their exit strategy from the dressing room when said targets decided to cut their time in the bathhouse short.

“They are coming,” Illya announces, unnecessarily, since he knows Napoleon heard the approaching voices as clearly as he did.

“One more pocket, Peril.”

“We have to leave,” Illya huffs in frustration, though it doesn’t make Napoleon abandon his task.

Well, if Napoleon isn’t coming, Illya is at least getting out of there. They’re not supposed to know each other, anyway. His hand is on the door knob when a firm grip encircles his other wrist and tugs with enough force to knock him off balance. It’s only because he’s not expecting it that Napoleon is able to wheel him around and press him backward against the wall in one smooth movement.

“We’ve been in here far too long. If we leave now they’re going to be suspicious,” Napoleon says in a low voice, suddenly standing distressingly close to him.

“They are going to be suspicious no matter what,” Illya manages.

Napoleon tips his head slightly as he looks up at him. “Not if we’re… occupied.”

He’s still holding Illya’s wrist in one hand, but the other comes up to splay across Illya’s flank. Then he shifts even closer, until there are only centimeters separating their bare chests. The heat radiating off Napoleon’s skin washes over him, and Illya feels his heart pick up tempo without his leave.

“This is illegal,” Illya protests, and realizes his mistake too late. He should have been protesting Napoleon’s proximity, should have pushed him away immediately instead of letting Napoleon practically pin him to the wall. He should have been protesting the action itself, not its legality.

“So is most of what we do, Peril,” Napoleon counters, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“We cannot afford to waste time dealing with local police,” Illya tries.

“These guys are criminals. They’re not going to turn us in to the authorities,” Napoleon argues. “But they are going to think they have leverage over me, which puts them exactly where we want them.”

“Does it?”

Napoleon pauses, staring up at him with too much intensity, and instead asks, “Do you trust me?”

Illya wants to say No. This is insane. It is a wholly unnecessary diversionary tactic. (It will probably work.) He barely knows the man in front of him. (He knows him far too well already.) He doesn’t trust people, so how can he trust an American spy, no matter what kind of ‘agreement’ they’re supposed to have, with something like this? With anything? (The question of trust was settled in Rome, when Napoleon tossed him the watch.)

Their targets’ voices are right outside the door, and Napoleon is so very close. The spicy-musky scent of his cologne fills Illya’s nose, and his hands sear like brands against Illya’s bare skin. Without breaking his hold on Illya’s gaze, he lifts Illya’s hand and places it on his hip so that his thumb skims over the prominence of the bone that sticks out above the low-slung towel. Illya does not pull it away. Even in the dim, flickering light he can make out the splotch of brown in Napoleon’s left eye, and he fixates on it just to keep his gaze from dropping to Napoleon’s lips.

“Yes,” Illya croaks.

To say that Napoleon kisses him would be grossly understating what happens. He presses forward, pushing their bodies flush together as he captures Illya’s mouth in a deep, probing kiss. His lips tug at Illya’s and his tongue licks past his teeth, and Illya lets him. Opens up under him, moaning helplessly when Napoleon pushes a knee between his thighs, the thin towels wrapped around their hips doing little to conceal their mutual arousal. His own hand clenches around Napoleon’s hip, fingertips digging into the flesh as he drags him even closer, chasing that delicious, maddening friction.

It is over far too soon. Illya is barely aware of the door swinging open, but Napoleon immediately wrenches away from him, a look of horror on his face. It is an act for their targets’ benefit, Illya knows this, but it still makes something in his gut twist nauseatingly at the sight. Analytically, he can appreciate how exceptional the performance is: Napoleon seems to shrink in on himself, appearing smaller than a man his size has any right to be, and his eyes dart furtively around the room as he tugs at the towel around his waist with shaking hands. Illya can think of no other word to describe him in this moment than pathetic, which is not a word that should ever be applied to Napoleon Solo.

The two men pose no immediate danger; carrying a weapon in their current attire is impossible, and Illya could kill them both with his bare hands before they could call for backup. They seem to intuit this, and eye him warily before deciding it best to ignore his presence entirely. Instead they turn predatory smiles on Napoleon, unquestionably delighted by his apparent distress.

Illya wants to kill them anyway. The protective impulse surges within him, illogical and dangerous, and in his attempt to suppress it he loses track of the conversation that Napoleon has with their targets. He hears something along the lines of ‘please don’t report me’ and ‘just met him’, and thinks distantly that at least now they have a cover story should they be spotted together again. Then Napoleon is tugging on his wrist again, pulling him out of the dressing room even though their clothes are still in there.

“What are we doing, Cowboy?”

“I’m not exactly keen on spending any longer with them just now,” Napoleon answers as he leads Illya back down the hall, still holding onto his wrist. “Figured we’d kill time until they’re done, enjoy the baths while we’re here.”

Illya’s mind immediately conjures an image of exactly how he’d like to kill time, and it’s not in the baths. He quickly shoves the thought away, burying it deep down next to his appreciation of how good Napoleon’s ass looks in his suits and the way his hair curls in the morning before he’s had a chance to put pomade in it. Things that should not be taking up space in Illya’s mind at all, and yet they do.

He’s distracted, at least, when Napoleon produces a key that he’d apparently filched from that last pocket. “Where did you hide that?” he demands, without thinking.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Napoleon answers with a smirk and a waggle of his brows, his grin broadening at Illya’s answering eye roll.

Illya doesn’t know how he does it, how he can kiss Illya senseless one minute and then go back to his usual meaningless flirting the next, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Do not lose it in the bath,” Illya grunts, then finally shakes his wrist free of Napoleon’s grasp and heads off in search of the cold room.

~~~

He tries. Illya works really hard to forget the feeling of Napoleon’s hands, and his lips, and his firm, muscular body pressing up against him. The world seems to be set on preventing that, though, constantly forcing them into close proximity and highlighting Napoleon’s more desirable features. Or maybe it’s just that Illya is completely losing it. For two days he manages to hold onto his tenuous grip on his self-control, long enough for them to take down the target and for Waverly to nonchalantly slip new mission orders to them—all of them, in briefing folders stamped ‘U.N.C.L.E.’ on their covers—across the table at a hookah bar.

“You fly out the day after tomorrow,” he tells them.

“And until then?” Illya prompts.

Waverly smirks at them. “Take a break, Kuryakin. Go to the beach.”

The beach. He can’t be serious. But the suggestion catches the attention of his partners, and so the next day Illya finds himself being dragged along with them. Sure, he could have stayed behind at the hotel, but leaving Gaby and Napoleon to their own devices seems like an exceedingly bad idea. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He brings his camera along—he says, to photograph the architecture of the buildings nearby—and ends up with shot after shot of Gaby and Napoleon playing in the surf. For his part, he brandishes the camera like a talisman any time they try to drag him in with them. He’s fine where he is. He doesn’t need any more than this.

“What happened at the bathhouse?” Gaby murmurs in his ear sometime later, moments after he snaps a particularly moody photo of Napoleon on the rocks lit from behind by the sunset.

Illya doesn’t jump, truly, but he does turn quickly at her voice, frowning at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You haven’t been able to take your eyes off him since,” she says as she takes a seat next to him and wiggles her toes into the sand. “And you’re brooding.”

“Am not,” Illya retorts, barely holding back a cringe at the petulance in his own voice.

“Hmm,” she hums skeptically. She rocks sideways and bumps her shoulder against his. “You know, about what we discussed…”

“It is not that,” Illya says, too quickly.

The look on Gaby’s face makes it quite clear she’s not buying any of it. “I’m just saying what I want might not be what he wants.”

Illya doesn’t respond. Can’t. What she’s saying… it’s utter folly, no matter how much he might want it. He doesn’t meet her gaze and instead finds himself staring out at Napoleon, who’s still picking his way among the rocks. After a moment he looks back toward them and a soft smile tips onto his face, so utterly unself-conscious and unguarded that Illya feels as if his heart cracks neatly in two.

“And you never looked at me like that,” Gaby mutters under her breath.

Illya’s not entirely sure she intended for him to hear it, and he decides it’s probably wiser to not reply to that one, either.

~~~

“Can I tempt you for a drink?” Napoleon offers in the elevator as they ride up to their rooms after dinner.

Illya already pressed the button for his floor, two below Napoleon’s, but his assent is out of his mouth before he even really thinks about it. Tomorrow they’ll be on their way to the next mission, so tonight’s the last time he’ll allow himself the indulgence. He assumes that they’ll all have a couple of drinks and relax a bit, and maybe he’ll be able to distract himself from the turmoil in his chest. What he’s not expecting is for Gaby’s smile to take on a mischievous tilt for a moment before she schools it back to innocence.

“Oh, not tonight for me,” she says with an offensively fake yawn. “I need to get some sleep. You two have fun, though.”

Before Illya can protest the elevator lurches to a stop with a ding and the doors slide open, allowing her to escape with a waggle of her fingers and what cannot have been a wink in his direction.

“Huh,” Napoleon says, obviously puzzled by this development as well. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Peril.”

This is bad. They haven’t been alone together for any substantial length of time since the bathhouse, and Illya can feel his chest tightening. Then again, Napoleon has basically been pretending that nothing happened, so maybe it will be fine. They’ll have a drink, maybe find something to argue about in an increasingly good-natured manner, and then he’ll go to bed. That’s all. A moment later, the elevator stops at Illya’s floor.

“Last chance to reconsider,” Napoleon offers, an odd touch of hesitance in his voice. “Won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No,” Illya answers firmly, surprising even himself. He sucks in a breath that shudders in his chest and shoots Napoleon a small smile that he hopes covers it. “I would like that drink, Cowboy.”

Napoleon stares at him a moment longer before turning back to the elevator doors, which are already closed again. “Yeah, good.”

There’s a new tension hanging in the air between them, though, or maybe just the same tension that’s been gathering since far earlier in their association than he’d care to admit. It follows them down the hall and into Napoleon’s room, the silence thickening until it seems nearly impossible to cut it. Napoleon sloshes generous pours of Scotch into two tumblers and wordlessly passes one to Illya. Illya had seated himself on one side of the sofa with the assumption that Napoleon would take one of the arm chairs, but instead he comes to sit next to him, leaving a careful distance between them that somehow still seems tantalizingly close. Illya takes a too-large sip of his whiskey, relishing the burn on his tongue and in his throat, and starts to wonder if the whole evening is going to go like this.

Eventually Napoleon clears his throat, though when Illya looks over at him he’s staring down into his whiskey. “Look, about what happened at the bathhouse,” he starts, his voice full of strained, false nonchalance. “I feel like I should apologize for springing that on you. I mean, it did work, but I might have gone a little too far, and—”

It is not the apology of a man who regrets what he did. It’s the apology of a man who wants more than he thinks he should, who wouldn’t have stopped if they hadn’t been interrupted, who—maybe, just maybe—might feel as Illya does, and in that moment Illya decides, fuck it. Maybe this is a terrible mistake. Maybe it will end in disaster. He doesn’t care. Right now, he wants Napoleon so intensely it is a physical ache, and he is not strong enough to fight it anymore.

“No,” Illya interrupts before he can ramble any further, which finally makes Napoleon’s head snap toward him.

He looks… oddly offended. “What do you mean no, of course it worked, they played right into our hands—”

Napoleon’s voice cuts off when Illya smiles softly and shakes his head, the outrage on his face rapidly replaced by a look of befuddlement. He glances down as Illya scoots toward him, closing the gap between them, and the crease between his brows deepens when Illya extracts the glass of whisky from his hand and places it on the coffee table with his own.

“I mean no, you should not apologize,” Illya murmurs, raising a hand to the angle of his jaw and letting his fingertips ghost across Napoleon’s cheek. “And no, you did not go too far.”

Napoleon’s eyes go very, very wide. “Oh,” he breathes.

Illya leans in to press their mouths together, no more than the barest brush of lips, which is kind of absurd given the heat of their first kiss. It feels like a reset, like a fresh beginning, like something he never could have dreamed of between them. He pulls back a few scant centimeters, but the space doesn’t last long; only a few seconds pass before Napoleon dives in again, pulling him back into a much more enthusiastic kiss, and Illya gives himself up to it. Loses himself in the slick slide of lips and tongues and teeth, and the way that Napoleon pushes against him, barely holding himself back from climbing right into Illya’s lap. Illya drops a hand to his hip and tugs, encouraging, but instead Napoleon pulls out of the kiss, though he makes no move to extract himself from Illya’s grasp. He tips his head back, breathing hard, so Illya transfers his attention to the angle of his jaw, reveling in the way that Napoleon moans as he mouths his way down the taut muscles of his neck.

“What about you and Gaby?” Napoleon breathes, tension coiling in his shoulders. “I thought you guys were…” He trails off, leaving the rest unsaid. He’d certainly seen enough in Rome to have an idea of where things had been headed between them, but of course he had not been party to the discussion that had followed.

“We agreed,” Illya says distractedly, between kisses, seemingly unable to keep his mouth off Napoleon’s skin, “it is better… to keep things… professional.”

The second the words are out of his mouth, he knows they were a mistake. Napoleon does push away from him then, restoring the space between them, and Illya feels as if more than just Napoleon’s body slips from his grasp in that moment. His hair is mussed where Illya’s hands have been in it and his lips are bitten red from their kisses, but his eyes are hard and wary.

“And yet, here we are,” he says, his tone demanding answers even though he hadn’t asked a question.

Illya Kuryakin—the KGB’s best agent, able to withstand the most extreme interrogation methods without breaking—lasts only a few moments before he looks away, no longer able to meet Napoleon’s eviscerating gaze. These feelings are not anything he was trained for. He can’t find the words to explain how, when Gaby had taken him aside and said she thought it would be better if they didn’t get romantically involved, he’d agreed readily with no sense of loss or disappointment. He can’t properly express how what had seemed practical and sensible in his relationship with Gaby somehow feels downright unbearable when it comes to Napoleon. Yes, it would be smarter and safer to keep things professional between them. Illya doesn’t know how to say that somehow, for the first time in his life, that risk—to his missions, to his life, to his heart—feels worth it.

Instead, he’s silent for far too long.

“So by ‘agreed’, you mean that she turned you down,” Napoleon surmises, coming to all the wrong conclusions.

“That is not—” Illya starts, but Napoleon doesn’t let him finish.

“No, no. I don’t suppose it matters much,” he says flippantly as he grabs his Scotch off the table and downs the rest of it in one swallow. “But it would be nice to know going into this if the only reason you’re here is because you’re lonely and I’m a warm body. You know,” he adds, with a tight shrug that completely fails at selling his apathy, “since we do have to continue working together.”

Illya might not be able to put this tangled mess of emotions writhing around in his chest into words, but he knows he cannot afford to let Napoleon retreat behind the masks and walls that he’s already trying to put up between them again. He reaches across the narrow space to take Napoleon’s hand, swiping a thumb across his knuckles, and is relieved when Napoleon does not pull away.

“Cowboy, you are not second choice,” he says carefully, “and I am not here because you are convenient.”

The wariness on Napoleon’s face shifts, but doesn’t retreat. “Then why are you here, Peril?”

It is a question Illya cannot answer—not yet, anyway. Putting voice to how much he needs the man sitting in front of him is utterly impossible, and yet, if he doesn’t answer, he will lose everything before he has even begun to grasp it. He drowns in ocean blue eyes, wishing desperately he knew what to say. But maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to say much.

Illya draws him forward again, raising a hand to cradle his cheek, and instead asks, “Do you trust me?”

It’s clearly not what Napoleon had expected him to say; he takes a sharp breath in and his brows quirk up in the middle as his eyes dart around Illya’s face, searching for something. Slowly, the tension bleeds from his shoulders, and the mask of doubt slips away.

“Yes,” Napoleon whispers, his hand tightening around Illya’s.

When Illya kisses him again, he can feel the unanswered questions lingering on. Someday he will be able to answer them. Someday he will find the words. For now, that trust will have to be enough.

[thermodynamiclawyer]

yeah, this is gonna be a trainwreck. here’s @bandagegirl ‘s and my GHS headcanon masterpost. our goal was to have at least 3 per character, if not more. we kinda had to group the last few characters together in the end, though. it’ll be split up in categories between the characters in the Game, then Anime-Only, and then overall Worldbuilding at the end as for easier reading.

Game Characters

Gregory

the Lost World/Gregory House is Gregory’s own manifestation through loneliness and envy. (see Worldbuilding)

he’s WAY older than a grandfather of James. he’s more of a great-great-great-great grandfather, but it’s easier to just call him grandpa.

he’s been long dead in reality for years. always constantly dreaming and manifesting his Lost World and eventually never woke up.

there is almost 0 records of him from reality. because of this, there is no clear time period he originated in, unlike the guests.

he’s a collector. he loves historically significant antique items to put on a shelf and learn all about.

as taken from the manga, his favorite historical subject is War.

he suffered from frequent night terrors as a teenager, making it difficult to sleep before the manifestation of the Lost World.

while he usually tries to set up a weekly chore schedule for the residents in the hotel, he usually ends up doing everything himself (both because the guests throw in the towel very quickly and that Gregory wants to do everything right).

his magic abilities include teleportation and immortality, but he’s still very prone to injury.

Gregory Mama

she’s actually a manifestation within the Lost World that Gregory used to cope/punish himself with.

has the tendency to adopt new guests as family members only to eat them/their souls later. this also applies to Gregory attempting to manifest new family members in the past, to which he stopped after Gregory Mama has shown to steal their souls each time.

obviously, she’s not Gregory’s real mother, rather a personification of the abuse Gregory suffered in reality.

as young children usually don’t use their parents real name often, she doesn’t have a real name.

James

he’s a child who escaped reality after discovering a forgotten family member (Gregory) in very old family photos; having little to no relation to the rest of the family.

plus, hearing rumors of a hotel that only appeared during moonless nights only encourage him to take on a challenge.

since he’s related to Gregory (even if it’s very distant), his monster transformation was a lot faster, becoming a full rat in little under a month.

he LOVES horror movies, especially slasher films. he might be a little too influenced by them.

he owns a large range of weapons, from toy water guns to actual chainsaws. that doesn’t mean he’ll use them responsibly, though.

he’s a very smart kid, even to the point where he can be manipulative to both the kids and the adults. he’ll even convince other kids to take the blame for him whenever he starts problems.

his parents from reality miss him very much.

Catherine

in reality, Catherine was a German nurse in the 1940’s during WW2.

as a human, she was actually afraid of the sight of blood and would get lightheaded whenever she had to treat a soldier’s wounds. however, as a determined nurse, she tried her hardest to become tolerant of blood. tolerance became fondness and fondness became obsession to the point where she was hurting her patients just to see blood again.

she is attracted to both men and women, however she experiences internalized biphobia. due to this, she’s desperate to find true love with a man while specifically trying to avoid romantic relationships with women.

she knows how to take care of children.

she molts her skin during periods of time, you know, since she’s a lizard.

she didn’t gain magic powers along with her transformation, but instead gained physical strength.

Cactus Gunman and Cactus Girl

both originated in the Mexican revolution, especially around 1910.

Gunman had been shot in the chest a few times in his life and surprisingly survived each of them.

Gunman’s personality completely changed once he arrived in Gregory House with his sister, becoming a paranoid coward from the brave “hero” he made himself out to be.

they both grow seasonal flowers in the springtime. Gunman grows one large red flower on his head, which he hides with his hat in the spring time. he prefers to only show to his potential lover. Cactus Girl grows smaller white flowers in her hair.

Gunman is in dire need of glasses.

Gunman is quite fond of gardening, and loves to talk about flora. sometimes, Lost Doll will accompany him in the courtyard while he weeds.

they would die for each other, so don’t cross them.

Cactus Girl can shoot better than Gunman, but prefers her lasso and other melee weapons. she’s sworn off using guns after the revolution.

Cactus Girl has the ability to spawn in zones in smaller closed areas, such as turning her hotel room into Cactus Land; sort of like a pocket dimension. it’ll disappear as soon as she leaves the room.

sometimes, they both don’t need to eat due to the occasional Photosynthesis, and can go a long time without water.

Hell’s Chef

he worked as a highly regarded chef in Russia at a fancy restaurant, with mixed European family origins.

him and Mirror Man were coworkers of some sort.

he came from a long line of wrestlers, but broke family tradition to cook as a passion and career.

he died after the restaurant went up in flames.

his throat is still scratchy and rough from the incident, so he isn’t much of a talker. not to mention the language barrier and that he’s still attempting to learn the language everyone else speaks in Gregory House.

while the appearance of his meals look absolutely irredeemable, Chef’s cooking is actually very tasty; so much that you almost can’t taste the poison. he prefers making meals that are hearty and savory, rather than “looking good”.

he prefers to do all the food shopping and butchering. nobody knows the best ingredient selections like he does.

like Catherine, all of this “magic ability” went to his incredible strength.

most, if not all of his body is made out of wax, with vein like wick all throughout the body, giving him general bodily structure.

Neko Zombie

(see Worldbuilding)

Clock Master and My Son

My Son was a stillborn in reality; the death of him and his mother gave Clock Master an alcohol addiction and depression.

1960 is the year My Son and CM's wife died, making it when time stopped for CM. he’s sort of “stuck” in 1960 in a way, which is why the year is plastered on both of their foreheads.

My Son was technically "born" in Gregory House.

when Clock Master came to Gregory House, an infant My Son was already waiting in his room. Because the child died before getting a name, CM referred to him as My Son.

while CM's time abilities are getting worse with age, they never were great to begin with due to the Lost World's unusual flow of time.

My Son's time abilities on the other hand have the potential to be the most powerful ability out of everyone's when he gets older, being able to play multiple timelines at the same time and even rewriting reality. this is due to being born in the Lost World, so his ability has adapted to Gregory House’s “time” system.

Judgement Boy + Gold

instead of a singular character, Judgement Boys are classified as a “species” considering there are multiple of them, with more being produced in the Judgement Factory daily. there is not a singular JB.

the Judgement Factory in Gregory House is a sub-factory of a much bigger Core Factory, where it branches off into different zones and other manifestations. There are countless Judgement Factories in existence, all with numerous JBs being produced and trained.

Judgement Boy Gold is an individual one-of-a-kind model, however, there are more in the “Metal” series similar to him in different factories with a variety of training jobs.

JBs came into existence after a lawyer in the early 2000’s won a court case that suppressed the rights and safety of these assembly line workers in a Toy Factory, which caused hundreds of workers to be injured or even killed. realizing the consequences of his actions, he spiraled downwards into insanity and ended up in Gregory House, rarely leaving his hotel room and eventually manifesting the Factory.

most models or designs of a Judgement Boy are based off of toys; one of the very few things reflected from the lawyer’s fatal court case.

the standard JB’s appearance is a bastardized caricature of the original lawyer, only with added cages and robotic features. the lawyer began transforming into a red monster with sharp teeth and claws, but never saw the results as he disappeared into the Core Factory one day, never to be seen again.

see @ask-factory and the #extended factory tag for a more extensive story.

Mummy Family

Mummy Papa, Mummy Dog, and Mummy Mama originated somewhere in the 1980’s.

the reason they’re in Gregory House is an overlap of death and the fact that Mummy Papa was unintentionally poisoning the 3, leading to ending up in the hotel as a “punishment”.

they’re Bloodhounds.

Mummy Papa loves to collect weapons and owns a saber collection, especially older historically significant ones.

Mummy Dog enjoys morbid facts and likes to tell the other children about death.

Mummy Papa has Münchausen Syndrome by Proxy, which is triggered when the sword shifts in his head. because of this, he keeps himself and the rest of his family sicker with unclear motives, perhaps to have the ability brag about their ailments. (more details here)

Mummy Mama suffers from more immune-system based illnesses and anemia while the other two deal with physical and phantom pain, which they all pass off as colds.

the plant in Mummy Mama’s head is a parasite, and needs to be fed directly to continue living if Mummy Mama gets too weak. (the plant prefers blood)

TV-Fish

one of the few characters classified as a species.

TV Fish have a wide variety of fish or other sea creatures they can be. the TV Fish in Gregory House are much smaller.

some TV Fish don’t even have to be TVs. some can be other electronic appliances just as long as they’re combined with a fish skeleton.

they can be found across other Zones and places besides the Lost World, some with localized and native species differing from what we already seen.

TV Fish are an invasive species in the Lost World.

they’re attracted to people with better memory. a person more intact and in touch with their memories could attract an entire school of TV Fish!

Roulette Boy

practically a God, Roulette Boy has reality bending powers.

however, since he follows his own rules strictly, he sets limits on himself as to only use them for his games, and won’t apply them to himself since he’s the Game Master.

nobody knows what the “rules” he follow are, but he restrains himself on what he can do while hosting a game. though, once you’re in his game, it’s almost a free-for-all and he can change you to be whatever pawn he sees fit until the game is over.

while RB prefers traditional board games, nothing’s stopping him from hosting RPGs or other turn-based video games (as seen in Lost Qualia.) he also loves gacha games and gambling.

when not hosting a game, he likes to roleplay.

Angel/Devil Dog

she is not a guest in Gregory House, neither a manifestation of the Lost World. she is a messenger from an entire separate outside world/reality, and she’s always been Angel Dog.

her, Death, and Gregory have been around equally the longest.

her and Gregory have a long history of rivalry. she’s always meddling in the Lost World and trying to let souls out a backdoor. whether she’s doing it to free them, or just to piss off Gregory, depends on her mood.

Angel Dog has a solid grasp on reality, however, her reality is different from the guests. it’s why her and Neko Zombie get along.

she doesn’t have a split personality disorder, as she chooses to become Devil Dog whenever she feels like it. her decision making is very emotion-based.

she’s a Dachshund!

Devil Dog likes soccer, and Angel Dog likes american football.

Lost Doll

ever since coming to the Lost World, she has either stopped aging altogether or she ages very slowly, as most object-based guests do.

she’s a wooden marionette with the ability to change her size.

in reality, she belonged to a very poor family who could only afford a few outdated wooden toys, which is why Katie was so special to her.

she’s good friends with James, even if she’s usually the one falling victim to his pranks. sometimes, when Katie takes over, it can be the other way around.

she has poor volume control and tends to shout when she’s excited or provoked.

she’s the youngest guest.

Death

Death, like Gregory Mama, is a manifestation of a part of Gregory's life.

he was created from Gregory’s favorite comfort movie, The Seventh Seal.

Death used to work in Gregory House as a doorman, welcoming the guests and wishing them goodbye, but fleed when Gregory Mama appeared and got rid of all other "manifestations".

his goal is to free Gregory's soul and end the Lost World, which is only possible if Gregory is the only person left.

Anime Characters

Dr.Fritz

Dr.Fritz is also German like Catherine, but came a little later in time.

back in reality, his body slowly stop responding, so he illegally tried to build himself a new body. that new body wasn’t fully ready yet when he decided to transplant his own brain when he was wheelchair bound and starting to lose arm control, so it was a very long process.

because of his condition, doctors either didn’t treat him correctly or flat out ignored his problems, so he has a strong mistrust to other doctors, which is why he wanted to operate on himself. the other doctors said there was nothing they could do, but he had other plans in mind.

he was there for the Berlin wall falling, and still has a piece of it as a keepsake.

he falls apart easily and has to re-sew body parts or snap his neck back into place. Catherine helps put him back together (in return, Fritz helps her shed.)

Catherine calls him Fritzchen on occasion.

he documents the species of the patients he treats out of curiosity and hopes to help them better. his treatments may be considered “unethical” but he knows for certain that if it’s to cure or treat the patient, he’ll go great lengths to break any rule in the medical field.

Mono Eye Wizard + Frog Fortune Teller

both are canonically married to each other, i just wanted to make sure everyone knew :]

Mono Eye Wizard wears a helmet, and he’s also an amphibian with one eye underneath his robe.

both are very interested and knowledgeable in the Magical and Paranormal side of the Lost World.

both held onto their souls for longer than most people, but lost them in the end.

Wizard is normally very powerful, he just SUCKS at summonings. (plus, he’s a little bit of an idiot)

on the other hand, Frog Fortune Teller isn’t very powerful, but she is very smart (and stubborn). she’s almost always right, especially if it’s a bad thing she predicted.

Wizard, and other characters such as Musha Dokuro and Egypetit all worship the same Dark Lord.

the little horned skeletons in Wizard’s cult are also classified as a species. sometimes, he allows in other interested members.

Wizard is fluent in latin.

Second Guest

the Second Guest, as shown at the end of the season two, has the silhouette of a rat. that’s her actual form; a shadow.

her “job” is to eavesdrop on other guests to go and report to Gregory Mama.

she’s very fast, quiet, hard to catch, and a big snitch.

the others call her “Hello Sister” as a title, while Gregory Mama calls her “My Lovely Daughter.”

her cigarette embers still glow on the wall, which is one of the only signals she’s in the room, especially in a poorly lit one.

usually only Gregory, James, and Mama can “hear” what she’s saying.

Chef strongly dislikes her and Lost Doll avoids her like the plague.

Prompters

a pair of indistinguishable twins, escaping reality after being rejected of their dream to become famous theater actors. both young adults.

they work multiple part time jobs, including helping out in the Judgement Factory in the hotel and Kabuki's theater, along with Poor Conductor’s performances.

they share drinks at the bar. their favorite drink is a raspberry/strawberry milkshake with two cherries. don’t forget to give them two straws!

they’re both learning how to cook with Hell’s Chef. so far, they can dice onions very well. :]

Public Phone

he’s in the Lost World as a punishment for being a greedy thief in reality.

he can create fake alibis, passports, various cards in addition to faking voices.

he’s drinking pals with Clock Master.

he takes any currency, just nothing fake. only HE can be the swindle here.

he’s a perverted little bitch.

Various Species

Haniwa Salarymen are classified as species, created from overworked businessmen in reality. The occurrence of them are very common, and season 1 happens to focus on one of them.

Black Ducks are a species, specializing in working kiosks, amusement parks, and other booths. Speed Mouse is never seen without a team of Black Ducks. Street Vendors sometimes accompany them.

Musha Dokuro are an invasive species to the Lost World.

Trap Mice are a (rare) artificial species built in the Lost World.

Dead Bodies are also classified as a species. they are the result of Death freeing an individual’s soul, leaving a husk/empty body behind.

species like these show up in reality to those who are close to their visit in the Lost World, appearing in the background or the corner of their eye, replacing real people.

individuals in all of those species are not visible/noticable until you interact and get close with them. they’re like NPCs.

Others

Wooden Lizard was Captain Wood’s favorite keychain that came to life.

Fat Chicken is an omnivore. He can and will eat anything.

(see here for Pig Gentleman and Mirror Man.)

Mirror Man can summon his own pocket dimension.

Kinko and Inko know more than they lead on, and Kinko is definitely much more powerful, but he can’t be bothered to do anything about it. he’s lazy.

Inko smokes cigars, but hates cigarettes.

Earth Man (from Lost Qualia) is non-verbal. he’s also very eco friendly!

Hell’s Taxi is a manifestation of a false sense of hope to escape the Lost World. it can also manifest in Reality to pick up new guests.

Egypetit’s head is made up of Gold, a strong conductor of magic in the Lost World.

Poor Conductor was powerful enough to manifest his own room into the Lost World, rather than checking into the Hotel himself.

Unbaba is semi non-verbal and cannot remove his mask. he’s definitely powerful enough to make guests lose their souls.

Bonsai Kabuki needs to water his head frequently or else he’ll be drained of energy, and be unable to open his third eye.

The Rainbow Dragon fossils, which Bonehead is after, are cursed, and uses his wife’s voice to compel him into seeking after them to claim yet another victim.

Toilet Baby may not be as powerful, but he can still summon dangerous attacks related to pocket dimensions.

Sleepy Sheep is used as a vessel in his sleep for those who are powerful enough to enter dreams.

Worldbuilding

Gregory House was a real place back in Reality, and it originally belonged to Neko Zombie and his loving family.

However, years and years of built up envy and hatred from Gregory, a person who didn’t receive the same love and luxuries as Neko Zombie, manifested the Lost World as a way for him to cope with the things he didn’t have in Reality, bringing the house down with him.

The remains of the house in Reality is now a mere rumor in the town, but its influence spreads across many zones to this day.

Neko Zombie is the final remaining member of the original owners of the house.

Him and Gregory are LONG forgotten for generations in Reality.

Zones are a loose term in the Lost World, which could mean alternate realities, different dimensions, etc. The Lost World is a zone with its own manifestations.

Another Zone could have its own origins and realities. Reality is not a zone, if that makes sense.

A Zone itself can manifest as a single individual or object being the Core that keeps the zone existing. (See The Core Judgement Factory that branches off Sub-Factories into different Zones.)

The Lost World is a very large Zone that reaches and branches off into other Zones, pulling in individuals.

Because of Zonal shenanigans, time moves a lot differently in the Lost World.

awful hospital does a better job handling zones better than this, actually. we took a little bit of inspiration from it. see here and here for a better grasp on what i’m trying to say.

[dlwritings]

Help in Three Phases | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - roommate!Tom x reader word count - 4,359 warnings - language, period talk, masturbation (f), use of vibrator, oral (f receiving), m/f sex A/N - idk I’m pmsing pretty bad and this is how I’m feeling so here we are

summary - Your period hits you in three phases, and after living with Tom for six months, he finally starts to catch on to what you need during each one.

You had been living with Tom for a long time, and you loved it. You got along really well and made the perfect pair of roommates. Growing up, the two of you had been best friends. When you wanted to move out of your parents’ house but couldn’t afford to live on your own yet, Tom felt it was only natural to offer up his spare bedroom. You’d only have to pay half the rent, and if you missed a month, Tom would have no difficulty covering for you.

There was only one problem that came from being so close to Tom, and that was your dating life. For years, guys wouldn’t approach you because they assumed you were with Tom. And when they found out you weren’t, they were scared away by the fact that you lived with him. It was completely infuriating. Yes, you had, from time to time, wondered what it might be like to cross that line with him, but you were just best friends, and you hated how much that hindered any option you had in the dating world. It grew especially frustrating during one specific time of the month.

You were two things when you were PMSing: irritable and clingy. Not a period cycle went by where you didn’t wish you were the weepy girl on her period. No. You were the pissy girl. You got mad at everything, and you knew you were the worst to be around. All of the problems started about three days before your period actually hit and didn’t end until three days later. So while most girls dealt with seven days of a period, you basically dealt with seven days of bleeding and six days of side effects. Thus, your period came in three phases.

Phase one.

The days before your period, you had cravings and mood swings. The first day you felt it coming this time around, you and Tom had just finished dinner, and you were eagerly anticipating digging into your ice cream that was waiting for you in the freezer. Only it wasn’t there. You felt your jaw and your fists clench in anger. “Thomas,” you started, “where’s my ice cream?”

“Hmm?” Tom hummed from where he was loading the dishwasher.

“Where’s my ice cream?” you repeated, turning on your heel to face him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“You finished it two days ago,” he said.

“No I fucking did not,” you said. “I was specifically saving it for today.”

“Right,” Tom said slowly, “but then two nights ago, you got drunk and said to me, I was going to save this, but I’m gonna eat it now because -and I quote- fuck self control.”

“And you let me?” you snapped.

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to argue with drunk (Y/N) about whether or not she should eat her ice cream.” You groaned dramatically, slammed the freezer door shut, and stormed off to your room.

The next day, you were having a saltier craving. You were sitting in bed, watching an episode of New Girl, when you suddenly started to crave nachos. You pushed yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, getting a plate from the cupboard and opening a bag of tortilla chips. When you opened the fridge to get some shredded cheese, you could feel your face grow hot in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled to yourself. “This is easily the most frustrating fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“What’s going on?” Tom asked from his spot on the couch.

“We don’t have any fucking shredded cheese!” you huffed. “How do we not have shredded fucking cheese?”

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled.

“You’re going to wish Jesus Christ was here if we don’t get some shredded cheese in this house soon.”

The next day, on your way home from work, you stopped at the store to pick up some panty liners and chocolate. When you got home, you set the bag on the counter, the sound of rustling plastic peaking Tom’s interest. “What’d you get from the store?” he asked.

“Chocolate,” you said.

“Chocolate?” Tom repeated.

“For me,” you emphasized.

“Don’t you know sharing is caring?” he asked.

“Right,” you said. “Well, when you develop a uterus, consider my stash your stash.”

Phase two.

The next day, like clockwork, you woke up with an aching back, a nauseous stomach, and an immediate need to use the bathroom. This was the first part of the phase where your lack of significant other really put a damper on things. You were crabby, and all you wanted was to be held and cared for.

And after six months of living together, Tom finally started to notice your shift in mood during phase two. It wasn’t that he didn’t know you were on your period, and he wasn’t oblivious to the cranky stage that came before this one. But now, he was starting to realize just how upset you got during your period. Yes, you were still cranky, but you were also just down in the dumps. He never saw you cry, but then again, he never really saw you. You rarely left your room, but when you did, you had a permanent frown etched on your face.

Tom didn’t have any sisters, and none of his relationships had ever been serious enough that he saw a girlfriend through her periods. So, when it came to handling a girl when she was menstruating, he took advice from Harrison. After all, he had a sister. And Harrison told Tom to steer clear of you and give you space. So for that week each month, that’s what Tom did. But you were Tom’s best friend, and he loved you. Seeing you so upset and sitting back like it wasn’t happening was too difficult.

So this time around, Tom decided to change up the routine. You hadn’t come out for your ice cream yet, so he went to the freezer, got out your unopened pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a spoon, and made his way to your room. He knocked on the door, waited for your words of permission, and walked in. You had all the lights off and the shades drawn, so you were only illuminated by the TV screen where New Girl was playing. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Is my TV too loud?”

“No,” Tom said with a shake of his head. “No, I, uh, I brought you your ice cream.”

“Oh,” you said, surprise in your voice. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said, walking over to your bed to hand it to you. “Do you want some company or anything?” Your eyebrows raised.

“Seriously?” you asked. The tips of Tom’s ears turned pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bug you. I just thought-“

“No, no,” you said quickly. “I’m just surprised. You usually avoid me like the plague during this week.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I thought I was supposed to.”

“Let me guess,” you said with a grin. “Harrison?” Tom just smiled, so you patted the bed next to you, and he came to sit down, pulling the covers over his legs. You adjusted the hot pad on your back and relaxed again against the pillows. There was an awkward space between you and Tom, mostly because Tom didn’t want to overstep. It wasn’t that you guys didn’t cuddle, but he honest to god didn’t know how to approach you when you were on your period. What if he touched you and you just snapped?

But then he noticed how wiggly you were getting and opened his arms up. “Wanna cuddle?” he offered. You smiled gratefully and nodded, adjusting yourself again and cuddling up to his side.

“Sorry if my hot pad gets too warm,” you said.

“No worries,” he said, pulling you close to his side. “Whatever makes you feel better.” You nodded and nuzzled your cheek against his chest. Tom knew what kind of touches you liked best, so he moved his hand to the top of your head and started massaging your scalp and running your fingers through your hair. You hummed contently which made his heart feel warm.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you muttered. “I really needed this.”

“Of course, darling,” he whispered. “All you had to do was ask, and I’d be here.”

That was how you spent the rest of your free time during the week: cuddled up in bed with Tom watching New Girl. He made you dinner most days, and when he didn’t, it was because he ordered take out. 98-percent of you was thrilled, but then there were the other two. Being this close to Tom was fulfilling that desire you had for a significant other to be there for you, and it was messing with your head. You had been harboring a crush for Tom for as long as you had known him, but you had always been able to keep a lid on it. With him doing this for you, it was hard to stop yourself from bursting.

Phase three.

Your period was in the rear view mirror, but now came arguably the worst part. Because after your period, you were insanely horny. This time around, it was even worse. For that, you blamed Tom. And he may’ve been able to help during phase two, but no way were you going to ask him to help during phase three. No matter how badly you wanted to.

You got out of the shower and dried off, settling into clean sheets without putting on your pajamas. You kept the sheets off of you as you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled out your vibrator. It buzzed to life when you pressed the button, and you brought it straight to your nipples, running it over each of them until they were both hard. Then you trailed it down your stomach before pausing at your core. It was a rabbit, so it was made to stimulate your clit and your pussy at the same time. You were already clenching in anticipation as you teased yourself, letting the vibrator dance across your outer lips. Your thighs were slick with your juices, and you were able to slide the toy inside you with no problem.

Normally, you weren’t loud when you masturbated, but it took a lot to silence yourself. You often had your face buried in your pillow or your teeth biting harshly into your lower lip. That night, you were so far gone, keeping your moans quiet wasn’t exactly in the forefront of your mind. Your pussy was clenching the vibrator so tightly, and the vibrations were making your head hazy.

“Oh shit,” you breathed out. Every time you used the toy after a week of PMSing, you felt like you were in heaven. Sure, it was nothing compared to a real dick, but it sure did a damn good job at satisfying you.

You were sure Tom’s dick would be more satisfying though.

Then, you were picturing him railing into you, your face pressed against the mattress and his fingers leaving bruises on your hips. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about him while pleasuring yourself, but it was the first time his name left your lips while doing it.

“Tom,” you moaned. It wasn’t too loud, but you still forced your teeth to sink into your lower lip to stop it from happening again.

But the damage had already been done, because Tom walked right by your door when you said his name. He didn’t think anything of it, just assuming you heard him walking by and needed him for something. His light knock on the door caused your heart to race against your chest. You fumbled to get the covers over yourself but didn’t have time to turn off the vibrator before he came in. You gripped the sheets close to your chest and ignored the vibrator buzzing on the bed between your thighs. It was no longer inside you, but it was so close to your core that you were still feeling the shocks.

“What’s up?” you asked, praying you sounded chill.

“You called my name,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. You shook your head and frowned.

“No I didn’t,” you said. You knew you didn’t sound convincing. Tom furrowed his eyebrows but seemed amused.

“I swear you did,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again when he heard something. “Is your phone going off?”

“What?” you said, feeling panic settling in your chest. “No.”

“Are you sure?” he said, patting his own pants pockets. “I hear something vibrating.”

“Nope,” you said, then laughed awkwardly. “You must be hearing things, Holland.”

Tom could tell you were hiding something, and he liked how flustered you seemed. It was funny to him. He took a few steps closer to you, and your body froze. “What are you doing?” you asked, hoping he didn’t notice your voice shake.

He laughed. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing!” you said. “Can’t you just go?”

“You’re hiding something,” he said. “And I only know one way to get you to spill.”

Your eyes grew wide at what he was insinuating. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “No, Tom, don’t.” He ignored you and jumped on the bed, gripping your hips over the sheets and tickling you. “Tom!” you said, trying to wiggle away from him while still keeping your body covered.

And then, he felt it.

The vibrator buzzed against his knee causing him to stop his actions in their tracks. You were mortified. Tom didn’t look at you. Instead, he looked down at his knee as if trying to stare through the sheet to see the toy in question. You didn’t know what to say. You were busted. There was no way around it. How were you going to talk your way out of this one?

What you hadn’t expected was for Tom to grab your sheet and pull it off your body. You were frozen in shock as you watched him. His eyes were still fixated on the vibrator, now noticing that it was covered in your slick. When he finally looked at you, you realized his pupils were so blown that his eyes looked black. You were waiting for him to say something or even leave the room in disgust. Instead, Tom picked up your vibrator and turned it over in his hands, not at all seeming to mind that it was wet.

“Do you think of me a lot when you do this?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, and Tom surprised you by pressing the vibrator against your clit. A choked out moan passed your lips and your hips lifted. “Answer me,” he said.

“Yes,” you cried. “Yes, I do, Tom.” He pulled the vibrator away, and you whined at the feeling. He looked up at you again, and you felt embarrassed tears come to your eyes as you closed your legs and covered your chest with your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “Please, please just go, and I’ll never-“

“Open your legs.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to process what he said. You looked at him and saw he was staring at your body.

“What?” you said. Tom lifted his head to look in your eyes, and his expression softened.

“You tell me you don’t want my help,” he said, “and I’ll go. But-“ He cut himself off, needing to clear his throat to stop his voice from cracking. “-fuck, let me help you.”

Instead of answering him with words, you moved your hands from your chest and spread your legs apart. Tom wasted no time situating himself between your legs, your vibrator still in his hand. He licked his lips before bringing the toy to your cunt, pushing it inside you inch by inch. His mouth watered at how eager your pussy was to take the vibrator, and he imagined how tightly you’d squeeze his cock.

The smaller part of the vibrator pressed against your clit every time Tom pushed the toy inside you. He worked it slowly, and you were writhing on the bed above him. You both jumped when his finger hit one of the buttons, and the vibration setting changed. “How many different vibrations are there?” he asked you, not taking his eyes off your cunt.

“Uh, huh, 30,” you stuttered.

“30,” Tom repeated, like he was testing the number on his lips. “‘S a lot.”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“You use them all?” he asked.

“Not all the time,” you managed to say. He pulled the toy out of you until just the tip was inside. You whined and tried to lift your hips, but he put his arm across your stomach to stop you. He pressed the button again, trying out another vibration. He kept clicking until he stopped on one whose pattern and intensity intrigued him.

“You like this one?” he asked. He sounded genuinely curious, but you were too focused on the fact that Tom was holding a vibrator against your cunt to answer him in any significant way.

“I like them all,” you said. Your eyes were closed, so you couldn’t see the smirk that danced across Tom’s lips. He thrust the toy inside you causing you to cry out in pleasure. Every time he pulled it away and the small part left your clit, you wanted to beg him to put it back. He always did. His thrusts were slow but rough, pounding the toy inside you so it hit the right spots each time.

When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you might regret. Tom noticed.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he muttered, pulling the toy away from where you wanted it most. You forced your eyes open to see Tom was biting his lower lip. His pupils were still blown, but his expression was soft, almost vulnerable. How was he the vulnerable one right then?

You knew what he wanted, and when he pushed the toy back inside you, his name fell from your lips. With a few more thrusts, you were cumming. You grabbed Tom’s hand and forced him to keep the toy in place, the vibrations destroying your clit in the best way possible. Your moans were so wrecked, and the way you called Tom’s name like a prayer made his already hard dick throb in his sweats.

When he pulled the toy out of you, he noticed the way your pussy clenched around nothing. He shut the toy off, and you kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath. You were so focused on coming down from your high that you shrieked when you felt Tom’s mouth on your core. “Tommy,” you moaned, gripping his hair in your hands. He lapped up your cunt, savoring each drop of your cum like he wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. He could tell by how you wanted him to use the toy that you needed clit stimulation, so he gave you that. He rolled your clit with his tongue, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure. Your thighs started squeezing his head, but he held them apart, growling in warning against your cunt. You cried out, begging him for something you couldn’t quite word. Whatever it was, he somehow knew, because he had you cumming again in just the right number of minutes. He let you savor it; he didn’t rush it.

You looked down at him when he pulled away, and you noticed his lips were coated in your orgasm. You smiled in embarrassment as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He surprised you when he started kissing up your body. His lips stopped at your jaw, and he pulled back to look in your eyes. You stared at each other for a few moments before you both moved a fraction closer to each other to close the space between you in a kiss. It wasn’t as desperate and needy as you expected it to be, and you hoped and prayed that this meant something to Tom like it did to you. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. “You say the word and I’m done,” he said. “No pressure. No obligation. No-“

You cut him off. “Fuck me, Tom.” The corner of his lip raised into his cheeky smirk, and he kissed you again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised by the affectionate action, but you loved it. You kissed him back, wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing your core against the bulge in his pants. You gripped his t-shirt in your fists and tugged it up his body until he pulled away and yanked it over his head, tossing it to the side. He sat back on his heels and tugged his sweats and boxers down at the same time, moving around to take them off completely. His dick was even better than you imagined it might be. He was the perfect length, and he was thick, the tip red and already leaking precum.

“Shit,” Tom muttered. “Do you have a condom?”

You sighed. “No.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ve got some in my room.”

“Mm, okay,” you hummed, pressing your thighs together. “Hurry back.” You moved your hand slowly down your stomach, then traced up and down your thighs. You swore you’d never seen someone move as quickly as Tom did then, jumping off your bed and rushing out the door. When he came back, he already had the condom packet open, which made you giggle. He grinned and got back on the bed, rolling the condom on his length with a satisfied sigh. You thought he would push into you right away, but instead, he brought his lips down to yours again. He didn’t quite let them press together, just hovered over your lips before kissing across your cheek and to your ear.

“Tell me, love,” he said. “What do you think about when you think of me?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he lined himself up, letting the tip of his cock brush against your clit. “Ah, fuck,” you breathed out. “Hard and fast. Choking me. Pulling my hair. Fuck-” Tom thrust into you without warning, giving you no time to adjust before pounding into you. He watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mouth gaped open. Your head almost hit the headboard with the force he was fucking you, and the room was full of your moans and slapping skin.

Tom surprised you when he pulled out of you so he could turn you over and slam into you from behind. He pulled you up by your hair so your back was arched, and you cried out in pleasure. “Yes,” you screamed. “Just like that, Tom. Fuck!” He pulled you up even more so your back was flush to his chest, and he moved his hand from your hair to your throat.

Again, better than you imagined.

He cut off your airflow just enough to make your head feel hazy. “You like that?” he muttered in your ear. “Fuck, you’re squeezing my cock so tight, you must love it.”

“Tom,” you gasped out. 

“You gonna cum for me, darling?” he asked. You nodded as much as you could, and Tom pressed a little tighter against your neck. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” You moaned, your voice cracking as you did so. “Fuck, yes,” Tom said as you milked his cock. “‘M gonna cum. Oh fuck.” With a few more thrusts, Tom spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering as he finished. He pulled out of you as you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. You laid in bed, your eyes closed, as Tom fell beside you. He took off the condom and tied it off before throwing it in the trash beside your bed. You were both breathing heavily, and neither of you knew what to say or who should speak first.

“Wow,” you finally said.

Tom chuckled. “Yeah. Wow.” You turned your head to look at him, and he did the same. Tom licked his lips and darted his eyes between yours. “So, what, um-” He hesitated. “What do we do now?” You swallowed thickly and stared up at the ceiling again. This was it. This was when you had to lie and say it was just sex, because you were sure that was what he would want.

Tom seemed to read your mind. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to say this,” he said, “but I really like you, (Y/N).” You looked at him again and saw how small and nervous his smile was. “You’re my best friend, but, but I’ve felt more than best friend feelings for you for a long time now.” You turned on your side and faced him.

“Really?” you asked, reaching over to stroke his cheek with the back of your hand.

He chuckled and mirrored your position. “Yeah, love. Really.” You smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were still smiling.

“I feel the same,” you said. He smiled and turned you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you again. He peppered kisses all over your face until you were a giggling mess under him. “You’re so weird,” you said. “How can you go from choking me to this in a matter of minutes?” Tom’s expression shifted a bit, and he brushed his fingers lightly across your neck.

“That was okay?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “More than okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him close to you again. “Just so you’re prepared, my sex drive after shark week is always crazy high. And choking-” You brushed your lips across his. “-that’s just the beginning of what I’m into.”

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[killianmesmalls]

On your comments about Jack: ye-es, in the sense that Jack is a character who definitely deserved better than he was treated by the characters. The way Dean especially treats him reflects very badly on Dean, no question. But, speaking as a viewer, I think the perspective needs to shift a little bit.

To me, Jack is Dawn from Buffy, or Scrappy Doo. He’s an (in my opinion) irritating kid who is introduced out of nowhere to be both super vulnerable and super OP, and the jeopardy is centered around him in a way that has nothing to do with his actual character or relationships. He’s mostly around to be cute and to solve or create problems — he never has any firm character arcs or goals of his own, nor any deeper purpose in the meta narrative. In this way, he’s a miss for SPN, which focuses heavily on conflicts as metaphors for real life.

Mary fits so much better in that framework, and introducing her as a developed, flawed person works really well with the narrative. It is easy for us to care about Mary, both as the dead perfect mother on the pedestal and as the flawed, human woman who could not live up to her sons’ expectations. That connection is built into the core of SPN, and was developed over years, even before she was a character. When she was added, she was given depth and nuance organically, and treated as a flawed, complex character rather than as a plot device or a contrivance. She was given a voice and independence, and became a powerful metaphor for developing new understandings of our parents in adulthood, as well as an interesting and well-rounded character. You care that she’s dead, not just because Sam and Dean are sad, but for the loss of her development and the potential she offered. So, in that sense, I think a lot of people were frustrated that she died essentially fridged for a second time, and especially in service of the arc of a weaker character.

And like, you’re right, no one can figure out if Jack is a toddler or a teenager. He’s both and he’s neither, because he’s never anything consistently and his character arc is always “whatever the plot needs it to be.” Every episode is different. Is he Dean’s sunny opportunity to be a parent and make up for his dad’s shitty parenting? Yes! Is he also Dean’s worst failure and a reminder that he has done many horrible things, including to “innocent” children? Yes! Is he Cas’s child? Yes! Is he Dean’s child? Yes! But also, no! Is he Sam’s child? Yes! Is he a lonely teenager who does terrible things? Yes! Is he a totally innocent little lamb who doesn’t get why what he is doing is wrong? Yes! Is he the most powerful being in the universe? Yes! Does he need everyone to take care of him? Yes! Is he just along for the ride? Yes! Is he responsible for his actions? Kinda??? Sometimes??? What is he???

Mary as a character is narratively cohesive and fleshed-out. Jack is a mishmash of confusing whatever’s that all add up to a frustrating plot device with no consistent traits to latch on to. Everything that fans like about him (cute outfits, gender play, well-developed parental bonds with the characters) is fanon. So, yes, the narrative prioritizes Mary. Many fans prioritize Mary, at least enough that Dean’s most heinous acts barely register. To the narrative (not to Cas, which is a totally different situation), Jack is only barely more of a character than Emma Winchester, who Sam killed without uproar seasons earlier. He’s been around longer, but he’s equally not really real.

I debated on responding to this because, to tell the truth, I think we fundamentally disagree on a number of subjects and, as they say, true insanity is arguing with anyone on the internet. However, you spent a lot of time on the above and I feel it's only fair to say my thoughts, even if I don't believe it will sway you any more than what you said changed my opinions.

I'm assuming this was in response to this post regarding how Jack's accidental killing of Mary was treated so severely by the brothers, particularly Dean, because it was Mary and, had it been a random character like the security guard in 13x06, it would have been treated far differently. However, then the argument becomes less about the reaction of the Winchester brothers to this incident and more the value of Jack or Mary to the audience.

I believe we need to first admit that both characters are inherently archetypes—Mary as the Madonna character initially then, later, as a metaphor for how imperfect and truly human our parents are compared to the idol we have as children, and Jack as the overpowered child who is a Jesus allegory by the end. Both have a function within the story to serve the Winchester brothers, through whose lens and with whose biases we are meant to view the show's events. We also need to admit that the writers didn't think more than a season ahead for either character, especially since it wasn't initially supposed to be Mary that came back at the end of season 11 but John, and they only wrote enough for Jack in season 13 to gauge whether or not the audience would want him to continue on or if he needed to be killed off by the end of the season. Now, I know we curate our own experiences online which leads to us being in our own fandom echo chambers, however it is important to note that the character was immediately successful enough with the general audience that, after his first episode or two, he was basically guaranteed a longer future on the show.

I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure why the perspective of how his character is processed by some audience members versus others has any bearing on the argument that he deserved to be treated better overall by the other characters especially when taking their own previous actions in mind. I’m not going to tell you that your opinion is wrong regarding your feelings for Jack. It’s your opinion and you’re entitled to it, it harms no one to have it and express it. My feelings on Jack are clearly very different from your own, but this is really just two different people who processed a fictional person in different ways. I personally believe he has a purpose in the Winchesters’ story, including Castiel’s, as he reflects certain aspects of all of them, gives them a way to explore their own histories through a different perspective, and changes the overall dynamic of Team Free Will from “soldiers in arms” to a family (Misha’s words). In the beginning he allows Sam to work through his past as the “freak” and powerful, dangerous boy wonder destined to bring hell on earth. With Dean, his presence lets Dean work through his issues with John and asks whether he will let history repeat itself or if he’ll work to break the cycle. Regarding Cas, in my opinion he helps the angel reach his “final form” of a father, member of a family, lover and protector of humanity, rebellious son, and the true show of free will. 

From strictly the story, he has several arcs that work within themes explored in Supernatural, such as the argument of nature versus nurture, the question of what we’re willing to give up in order to protect something or someone else and how ends justify the means, and the struggle between feeling helpless and powerless versus the corruptive nature of having too much power and the dangerous lack of a moral compass. His goals are mentioned and on display throughout his stint on the show, ones that are truly relatable to some viewers: the strong desire to belong—the need for family and what you’ll do to find and keep it. 

With Mary, we first need to establish whether the two versions of her were a writing flaw due to the constant change in who was dictating her story and her relationship to the boys, which goes against the idea that her characterization was cohesive and fleshed-out but, rather, put together when needed for convenience, or if they both exist because, as stated above, we are seeing the show primarily through the biased lens of the Winchester brothers and come to face facts about the true Mary as they do. Like I said in my previous post, I don’t dislike Mary and I don’t blame her for her death (either one). However, I do have a hard time seeing her as a more nuanced, fleshed-out character than Jack. True, a lot of her problems are more adult in nature considering she has to struggle with losing her sons’ formative years and meeting them as whole adults she knows almost nothing about, all because of a choice she made before they were born. 

However, her personal struggles being more “mature” in nature (as they center primarily on parental battles) doesn’t necessarily mean her story has layers and Jack’s does not. They are entirely different but sometimes interconnected in a way that adds to both of their arcs, like Mary taking Jack on as an adoptive son which gives her the moments of parenting she lost with Sam and Dean, and Jack having Mary as a parental figure who understands and supports him gives him that sense of belonging he had just been struggling with to the point of running away while he is also given the chance to show “even monsters can do good”. 

I’d also argue that Jack being many ages at once isn’t poor writing so much as a metaphor for how, even if you’re forced to grow up fast, that doesn’t mean you’re a fully equipped adult. I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I believe Jack simultaneously taking a lot of responsibility and constantly trying to prove to others he’s useful while having childish moments is relatable to some who were forced to play an adult role at a young age. He proves a number of times that he doesn’t need everyone to take care of him, but he also has limited life experience and, as such, will make some mistakes while he’s also being a valuable member of the group. Jack constantly exists on a fine line in multiple respects. Some may see that as a writing flaw but it is who the character was conceived to be: the balance between nature or nurture, between good and evil, between savior and devil. 

Now, I was also frustrated Mary was “fridged” for a second time. It really provided no other purpose than to give the brothers more man pain to further the plot along. However, this can exist while also acknowledging that the way it happened and the subsequent fallout for Jack was also unnecessary and a sign of blatant hypocrisy from Dean, primarily, and Sam. 

And, yes, Jack can be different things at once because, I mean, can’t we all? If Mary can be both the perfect mother and the flawed, independent, distant parent, can’t Jack be the sweet kid who helps his father-figures process their own feelings on fatherhood while also being a lost young-adult forcing them to face their failures? Both characters contain multitudes because, I mean, we all do. 

I can provide articles or posts on Jack’s characterization and popularity along with Mary’s if needed, but for now I think this is a long enough ramble on my thoughts and feelings. I’m happy to discuss more, my messenger is always open for (polite) discussion. Until then, I’m going to leave it at we maybe agree to disagree. 

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences

Okay, so this is just something that wouldn’t leave me alone. It has absolutely nothing to do with my other fics and may actually be a one shot. (We all know that’s not something I do but hey I can hope). Anyway, I’ve always hated the way Lila’s character was done. For so many reasons. The biggest issue I had was that there’s never any explanation for her personality. Sure, there is a small percentage of people that are straight up evil, but not many and it’s lazy writing to make a character, villain or otherwise, with absolutely no reason to be the way they are. If you’re not going to flesh out a character don’t make them a focal point period. Okay I’ll stop ranting now. This is in no way canon, nor is it meant to be.

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AO3   Next

“You told her what?!” Adrien flinched as Lila yelled in his face but she didn’t care. This idiot had completely destroyed all her plans with no thought what so ever. How had things gotten so bad?

“It doesn’t do any good to put more pressure on the situation. I told Marinette that you’d come around once you got the attention you wanted, so she should just let it go. Take the high road.” She was dangerously close to punching him in his sanctimonious face. The only thing stopping her was that getting arrested for assault wasn’t something she wanted to experience right now. Not to mention she now had to try and fix this insanity.

“That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ignoring things may work with paparazzi but that is not how you should deal with anything else. More often than not ignoring a problem just makes it worse.

“I’ve been ignoring Chloe’s bad behavior for years and she’s getting better.” Lila felt like her head was going to explode. As good as Adrien was in science he apparently didn’t understand causal relationships. The boy was far too dense to survive in the real world.

“As I understand things, Chloe didn’t start improving until Marinette stood up to her and Ladybug called her out on her bad behavior. Your enabling simply allowed her to continue what she was doing without consequences. People don’t change without a reason Adrien. Most need a pretty enticing incentive to do anything out of the norm.” She couldn’t deal with this anymore. Lila knew that she wasn’t going to make him see the error in his thinking. Everyone thought of Adrien as a ray of sunshine but she’d seen first hand how hard he held onto ideas even when all the evidence pointed to the opposite conclusion. Instead she turned and walked away as he yelled justifications at her back. She knew he wouldn’t actually follow her because his ride should be there any second. He wouldn’t risk getting in trouble, no matter how much he wanted her to agree with him.

She didn’t even know where she was going at this point, just wandering randomly while she thought. Everything had gotten so out of hand. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. She didn’t think so. It’s like the perfect storm of stupid, incompetence, and compliance had coalesced into this mass of insanity that she couldn’t see a way out of. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She’d done the same thing dozens of times with the exact same result. Why did things have to turn out so differently this time?

Before she knew it Lila was standing in front of a building she had no wish to enter. She knew she had to, but honestly she would rather step into traffic. Still, if there was any hope of salvaging things this was where she had to start. She just hoped she’d be able to get out some sort of explanation before they threw her out. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning! What can I do for you dear?” Lila hesitated. Surely Marinette had told her parents about what was going on, right?

“Madam, my name is Lila Rossi. I was hoping to talk to Marinette.” There was absolutely no recognition in the woman's eyes. What the hell kind of alternate reality was she in? From everything she could gather Marinette had a great relationship with her parents. Even if she had let Adrien talk her into staying quiet at school, why would she hide what was going on from them?

“Of course, and you can call me Sabine dear, no need to be so formal.” She followed as Sabine led her up the stairs at the back of the bakery and into a little apartment. Lila had lived in a lot of places, but not one of them had ever said home the way this tiny space did. “Marinette’s room is up there. I have to get back down to the bakery, just knock before you go in.” Lila could only stare at the woman’s retreating back in panic. There was no way Marinette wanted her of all people anywhere near her room. She’d expected Sabine to get her to come out here. She looked back at the trapdoor with no idea how to proceed.

Eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the stairs. A few minutes and many attempts later, she managed a timid knock. There was a muffled ‘come in’ and Lila almost had a heart attack. Now what? Against her better judgement she slowly opened the door and poked her head up. She saw Marinette hunched over her sewing machine, not paying any attention to who had entered. But what caught her attention was the bruise on Marinette’s cheek and a strip of gauze around her forehead. Lila’s anger from earlier reignited with a passion and before she knew it she was in the room standing directly behind the girl.

“How could you listen to that moron’s advice?” She winced the moment the words came out of her mouth. That was not how she wanted to start this. Marinette jumped and actually fell off the chair. Lila flinched back at the fear in the girls eyes when they registered who she was.

“Wh- What are you doing here?” Marinette’s eyes were darting every which way, looking for escape routes or something to defend herself with most likely. It hurt knowing that this was all her fault.

“I… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then why did you yell at her dumbass? “I’m here because…” Why exactly was she here? She really should have planned this out, or at least had any idea of what she was going to say. “I’m here because I need to apologize to you, and I think you deserve an explanation for why I apparently destroyed your life.” Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Lila couldn’t blame her.

“You want to apologize to me?” The skeptical tone caused her to break eye contact. It was well deserved but Lila didn’t even know where to start. She was a selfish creature by nature so apologies didn’t come naturally, but this was something that needed to be done.

“Yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I never thought…” She couldn’t continue. No apology and no explanation was good enough for what Marinette had gone through because of this mess. Lila didn’t even know everything because apparently the class had been bullying Marinette for over a month but they’d kept it from her because she was too ‘nice’ and wouldn’t have approved. How did you even begin to make up for something like that?

“You never thought what? That your plan to take away all my friends would affect me? That you making my school life a living hell would hurt me?” The girl sounded pissed and Lila couldn’t blame her but the tone sent her into her defensive mode anyway.

“I never thought anyone would believe the garbage coming out of my mouth!” Marinette blinked at her in confusion, all the fight suddenly gone.

“What?” Lila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where did she even start? None of this was going to make sense to Marinette. Honestly she wasn’t certain it made sense to her anymore either.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Marinette motioned her to continue. “My mom is a diplomat, that wasn’t a lie. She’s something of a fixer. Basically when a situation has escalated too far they bring her in to smooth things over. Because of that she gets moved a lot more often than most. I think the longest we’ve lived in one place is about nine months.”

“And that makes it okay for you to lie and bully people for no reason?” Bully? She hadn’t considered that before. From Marinette’s perspective she understood why she said it though. Especially after the bathroom incident. Lila winced.

“I didn’t mean to… The lying has a purpose but I’ve never had to escalate things before. It’s not an excuse, I should have considered things better. I just…” She just what? She’d just been so focused on her goal that she hadn’t bothered to look at the collateral damage. Hadn’t even considered that there would be. “Look just let me explain, then you can yell at me.” If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Fine.” Lila shifted nervously as Marinette’s full attention was focused on listening to her. Having that much animosity directed at her was extremely uncomfortable.

“So when I was little the moves were more frequent. Because of that my mother hired tutors and enrolled me in online classes rather than try to attend school. There didn’t seem to be any point in having me adapt to a new place and teachers every couple of months. About three years ago things slowed down a little and she decided it would be good for me to socialize with other kids. Despite my best efforts, I was enrolled in school. I hated it.” That was a vast understatement. The curriculum wasn’t advanced enough and the kids were all immature and annoying. The teachers were boring too. Not to mention that she was used to learning at her own pace and having the ability to choose subjects that actually interested her. School was basically torture.

“I wasn’t happy and told my mother so but she thought I just needed time to adjust so she basically told me to suck it up and deal with it.” She’d had a perfectly researched and reasoned argument but her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. “A couple days later a boy was annoying me. He refused to leave me alone after I’d told him many times to stop and eventually I snapped and punched him in the nose.” It had felt really good at the time.

“Really?” Marinette sounded somewhere between horrified and amused and was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Really. I was sent to the principal and he called my mother. I was expelled because they had a zero tolerance policy for violence. My mother was not happy with me and lectured me about solving my problems in a different way, but she let me homeschool again because she wasn’t certain how long we’d be there and didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another school. I thought I’d won, until the next time we moved and she put me in school again.” Once again she’d argued to be allowed to stay with homeschooling. Once again her mother had ignored her.

“Let me guess, you just walked up and punched someone the first day?” Lila let out a snort of amusement and shook her head.

“No. Mother made it very clear that physical violence had far too many repercussions, so I had to get creative. I read the school rules trying to find the easiest way to get thrown out. I tried disrupting class constantly, but that just landed me in detention. So then I tried stealing. That got me thrown out quickly enough, but it also could have had legal ramifications that I didn’t understand at the time. My mother made it very clear to me after though.” Yet another fun conversation where her mother talked at her and wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Lila couldn’t understand how she could be such a good diplomat and still have no idea how to listen to her own daughter.

“So you got to homeschool again?” She blinked at Marinette for a moment before nodding. She’d gotten lost in her own thoughts. “But I’m going to assume it didn’t last.”

“No. Every time we move she tries again. I don’t understand why she bothers. The next few schools I refined my technique. I found out that lying was the easiest and least complicated way to get thrown out quickly. They just don’t want to deal with it. Each school has slightly different thresholds but I found that obvious misinformation coupled with lying about medical conditions usually got me back home within a week. I thought I had it down to a science, until we moved here.”

“So wait… you’ve just been trying to get expelled this entire time?” Marinette was looking at her like she’d grown another head. Lila wasn’t surprised. To anyone else what she did sounded insane and maybe it was a little. But it worked and she was a very results driven person. “What about the Akumatizations?”

“What about them?” Lila couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything.

“If you wanted to be found out, why were you so upset you became Volpina and Chameleon?” Lila winced. She’d watched the limited footage and remembered how she’d reacted after. She’d been disoriented and confused and had just lashed out.

“I was expecting Adrien to call me out. The necklace I showed him came from his father’s line after all. I misjudged how involved he was in the industry apparently. I wasn’t expecting or prepared for an actual Superhero to call me out. I’ll admit I reacted badly, but in my defense I didn’t know then how little it took for Hawkmoth to Akumatize someone.” That had been a less than pleasant realization. Maybe she should try and apologize to Ladybug after this as well. It wasn’t the hero’s fault that Lila couldn’t deal with normal social interaction and lashed out when she felt threatened.

“And Chameleon?” Lila winced at the soft question. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d threatened Marinette. Well that wasn’t completely true but she didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she saw the Akuma.

“You were the only person who seemed to have a spine and didn’t believe the bullshit I came up with. I was trying to push you into reporting me to the teacher or convincing everyone else that I was lying. I’ve never been in a situation where people actually thought that my lies were real before. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “After I left I realized how harsh I’d been and was coming back to make sure you were okay when the Akuma phased through the wall and straight into me. Apparently my being mad at myself for overreacting was enough to let him in, again.”

“Why keep lying though? You had to have realized it wasn’t working at some point so why keep doing it?” That was a really good question and she didn’t have a good answer. Lila ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“At first I thought that I just needed bigger lies. I also expected the teacher or principal to call my mother and verify the ‘disabilities’ I said I had. Other than that I guess it was just habit. It’s what I’ve always done in that situation and I didn’t know what else to do if I’m being honest. Everyday I’d tell myself that today was when everyone would see through the bullshit. That’s also why I started lying about you.” Once again, in hindsight it was an extremely stupid move. Marinette looked confused.

“You’ve been lying to the class about me thinking it would make them realize what you were doing?” Yeah, it was a really stupid plan.

“Yes. I did my research. Everyone loved you. You were the class rep for crying out loud! I thought that lying about you would get them to at least think things through. I mean they’re supposed to be your friends. They’re supposed to know your character well enough to question it when someone says you’re doing something so completely off track from your normal. I didn’t expect them to believe me without question and I absolutely didn’t expect them to retaliate and hide it from me.”

Marinette’s head snapped up in shock. She was looking for something in Lila’s eyes but Lila wasn’t sure what it was. The girl's expression softened suddenly and before she knew it, Lila was on the receiving end of a crushing hug. What the hell?

“If you’re trying to suffocate me there are easier ways to do it.” The words just popped out and Lila winced again. So maybe her mom had a point about her needing more social interaction. It still didn’t mean she should be forced to endure school. She felt Marinette let out an amused huff and pulled back.

“So what brought on this need to come clean?” Lila’s eyes automatically went to Marinette’s injuries before snapping away to the wall.

“Alya slipped and told me what they did last night. I went to Adrien first since he knew Ladybug called me out to try and get him to make the others see sense, or at least help you protect yourself. That’s when he told me what he said to you.” She felt her anger resurfacing just thinking about that conversation.

“That’s what you meant.” Lila just blinked at Marinette in confusion. “When you first got here you yelled at me about taking a moron’s advice.” Lila winced at the reminder but nodded. “Apparently you’re not the only one prone to making mistakes and snap judgments.” Her tone was dry but still held a trace of amusement. Lila wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’ll text my mother and have her come here after work so I can explain what’s going on to her and your parents.” It was the least she could do. There was no way to fix this, but at least she could come clean.

“You can’t do that! What if one of them gets Akumatized over it?” Lila just frowned at Marinette. She couldn’t be serious. Her worried expression said otherwise.

“You can’t keep letting people hurt you because you’re scared how they’ll react. Hawkmoth is going to keep using people and that’s not your fault. It’s not your job to make everyone happy, especially not at the expense of your physical and mental well being. They need to know what’s going on so you can get out of that toxic school environment.” Marinette actually rolled her eyes.

“Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean it’s a toxic environment.” Lila stared at her in shock. Marinette was serious. The phrase ‘what the hell’ was quickly becoming her new mantra.

“You’re kidding right? Your teacher avoids her job at all costs by making the class police itself. She blames the victims for things they have no control over because it’s easier than actually confronting someone. The principal hasn’t once tried to call my mother to verify absences or illness. That’s not even including your classmates who have gone full Lord of the Flies over a bunch of lies.” How could she possibly think any of this was okay? Marinette seemed confused as she mulled over Lila’s words. How long had this shit been going on?

“I suppose it may seem that way to someone walking into it, but I think your prejudice against school in general is part of your viewpoint. Things have always worked themselves out before and I’m sure everyone will come around eventually.” She was going to have an aneurysm. Apparently Marinette was just as bad as Adrien at holding on to things despite the evidence. She reached out and gently touched the gauze on Marinette’s forehead.

“They could have killed you. Alya especially is prone to acting without thinking things through or caring about the consequences. It’s why she posted all those ridiculous interviews. Honestly I’m surprised she hasn’t been sued yet. I took care of the site though.” She wasn’t even paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, too focused on where Marinette’s blood was seeping through. This was all her fault.

“What do you mean you took care of the site?” Marinette’s tone was off but she couldn’t place the tone.

“Hacking is one of the things that I actually like doing. I took down everything with me and purged it from her harddrive. I also took down that stupid picture of Ladybug and Chat kissing after Oblivio. It’s not much but it’s as much of an apology I could manage to Ladybug even if she never knows who did it.” Alya had ranted for days about the Heroine’s denial. It was beyond annoying at the time.

“Why do you want to apologize to Ladybug?” Lila blinked at her before letting out a sigh.

“After my Akumatizations I said some things… let’s just say I wasn’t in a great headspace. I tend to go feral when I feel threatened. Add that to the whole lying and keeping in character to get expelled… She has enough to deal with without hormonal teenagers mouthing off at her.” Marinette was studying her again and Lila couldn’t read her expression at all. It made her more nervous than she would have thought.

“I still don’t think we should tell our parents. Maybe we can turn things around ourselves.” Damn it. The girl was out of her mind.

“That school is a breeding ground for bullies and narcissists. The administration needs to be held accountable for their neglect or who knows how many others could get hurt. There needs to be consequences or things will never change.” There was no way they could fix this themselves. She wasn’t even sure teams of lawyers and therapists could fix this at this point. Marinette was frowning again. Lila wanted to convince her this was the right thing, but if push came to shove she would tell the Dupain-Chengs the truth so they could do something about this. Her mother would just want to bury it to keep Lila out of trouble. Marinette’s parents would do what they had to to protect their daughter, at least she hoped they would.

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt… Maybe we can talk to the principal. If we say we’re going to look into a lawsuit or call the police, maybe he’ll change.” Lila rolled her eyes.

“He won’t take anything seriously coming from two teenagers. Look, I realize your self preservation instincts aren’t very strong but you need to tell your parents what’s going on. If nothing else you can transfer schools. Honestly, you probably should.” She looked devastated at the thought and Lila’s guilt came back full force. She knew that she couldn’t control the actions of others, but if she hadn’t worked them up they never would have gone after Marinette of all people. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. Marinette probably would have been perfectly happy not knowing what her classmates were capable of.

“I can’t just leave my friends.”

“What friends? The only person who has bothered to tell me to back off is Chloe. Something about you being more fun to square off with when you actually have a spine.” That girl was at least what she seemed. Lila could respect that far more than Adrien’s fake personality. In his defense she didn’t think he was doing it out of spite, he’d just been playing a part most of his life and probably had no idea who he was, let alone how to be himself.

“They didn’t mean it. I’m sure once they understand the situation they’ll calm down.” There had to be a way to get through to her, but Lila was getting far too frustrated to think things through properly. As usual, her mouth went into gear before her brain.

“If we tell them what’s going on now they’ll just transfer all that anger to me, assuming they don’t think you threatened me into backing up your story that is. Sadly, I have a feeling that it’ll be the second.” She would be fine with the first honestly. It would give her a reason to have her mother pull her out of school. Unfortunately given the class’s track record she couldn’t chance it. Alya could easily whip everyone else into a frenzy if she decided Marinette was forcing Lila to back her version of events. The girl hadn’t been able to find the truth yet so there was no reason to think she would come to her senses now.

“I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want them going after you.” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“What you did was wrong but you don’t deserve to be bullied for it. I don’t want to be part of the reason that would happen.” Her supposed friends attacking her didn’t phase her at all, but the thought of those same friends bullying the person who’d set them on her in the first place caused her to pause. Lila would never understand that mindset.

“So can we at least talk to your parents about what’s happening? This has gone way past too far and I really don’t think we’ll be able to stop it by ourselves. Please.” Marinette finally nodded and Lila felt a tightness in her chest loosen. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. 

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[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 4)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6500 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! -i reckon I don’t need the paste it again… but in short: this is a purely self-indulgent work which contains a lot of my own headcanons and whatnot. this chapter especially so! lots of talking and thinking - curious to see what you think!! THANKS FOR READING <3 ----- Tobirama resolved to give you the next dose preemptively. After you had explained to him that during your capture you had never suffered anything like the withdrawal symptoms - or at least you couldn't remember - he expressed concern for the fact the leash might do more permanent damage if stretched too far.

"That means I'm going to have to take it more often," you had whimpered.

Tobirama still had a hard time seeing you so malnourished - a shadow of your former self. But he wasn't going to argue now. "I know," he had answered, keeping his deep voice soft nonetheless. Your precarious state needn't be aggravated by more stress, though he wouldn’t be swayed on this. "However I hardly think they spared you the withdrawal symptoms because they were being fair sports, Y/n." There was a sad logic behind this, of course.

There always was.

You were twisting uneasily in the bed a bit now, blinking a few times. It had not escaped Tobirama's notice that you had seemed to ponder longer - and your movements had become weaker, more sluggish. In fact he had lowered you back to the bed again from the hug you two had shared because he had felt how your muscles had begun to shake - just from sitting up. You had protested of course, but Tobirama wasn't going to change his mind on this, either. You still needed a lot of rest. Besides-

The scales were tipping, slowly.  It made his heart heavy.

Finally you had found your words again. "I suppose so." You closed your eyes lazily.

"Y/n…", Tobirama had spoken up again softly, reaching to grasp your hand which felt so cold. "I'll put you to sleep right after you drank it. If we shield you from any outward sensations, it might help." If it came down to it, Tobirama knew he himself would guard the door if he had to. Pray for anyone who disturbed you in your vulnerable state. At the same time, he was aware how unrealistic that was - but either way, it was another concern he’d find a solution to. He always did.

You had given him a weak smile, then. "It's worth a shot."

Tobirama could tell you hadn't exactly placed any hope in that.

He wasn't sure if he did.

That had been two hours ago, now. In the meantime he had worked to set up the laboratory gear needed for the next task at hand: analyse the contents of the drug. Of course the hospital had all the equipment available as well as an empty room in the basement. Tobirama still wanted to be closer to you, but he'd have to make due with a seal placed in your room. Briefly, he contemplated to let a shadow clone of his guard you, but ultimately he decided against it - his focus mustn't be divided, at least not now. Besides, your day was pretty much running by the leash's clock, which Tobirama knew hatefully well by now. He knew when to be with you. Frankly he still was miffed Mito had removed the branded piece of paper he had placed there earlier - now, he opted to ram a marked kunai into the doorframe. The gesture was clear. Hashirama was tending to his duties as Hokage again by now - Tobirama didn't expect to see his brother again too quickly. Not that he'd blame him - there were other pressing matters at hand.

Tobirama also had some other place to visit again for results.

All of the work was good - the focus was welcomed. During it he was entirely absorbed in considering his approaches to the objective as well as his angles in achieving it. The worry had become an undercurrent in his mind - though his heart still felt heavy and the ache never faded, he now was doing something. He channeled it all into the urge to protect you and keep the promise he made.

Though just as he had sworn to do everything to save you - he had pleaded for forgiveness for everything he needed to do for that.

Now would be a time where he'd regretfully hope for the latter again.

He was standing in front of your door again, holding a small vial containing the clear, dreadful liquid. Tobirama made sure to take the exact amount Hashirama had when they drugged you first - it seemed to have been the right amount given how the timeframe had played out. The bottle his brother had secured from the hideout would make up for a handful of dosages. They still were pressed for time, but there was some yet. Some.

He opened the door silently.

You were squirming again slightly - a disorientated nestle in the bed. Your eyes were closed and a fine sheen of sweat was glistening in the red sun of dusk that filtered through the window.

Tobirama frowned. Had he been too late?

Slowly he approached the bed, sighing heavily. He wasn't a man to hesitate, no matter how grim the task. But he would be lying if he said what he needed to do now was tantamount to driving a katana into his own body.

No, he'd actually prefer doing that to this.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Y/n," he greeted you softly, a hand reaching for your shoulder to rub it gently and check for your response.

Your head whipped towards him, your eyes wide. They blinked a few times as your hazy mind tried to work out the recognition that was digging itself out of the swamp your thoughts had become again.

You didn't reply, though. But your squirms had stilled, at least.

Tobirama desperately wished this wouldn't need to become an act of force again. One he'd absolutely go through with - but cruel for everyone involved.

"It's time," he whispered, keeping the anguish out of his voice in an attempt at comfort. Inwardly, he was mocking himself for it. Ridiculous.

The response was prompt. A whimper first, then a low groan after your gaze settled on the vial he held. Your head tilted to the side as you rolled your eyes almost comically. Except the occasion was far from laughing. Tobirama silently wondered if you had no strength left to even speak.

It was haunting to think that might be the case.

Wordlessly, his hand reached under your neck to tilt your head up somewhat. You didn't protest - you felt awfully limp, anyway. The ache in Tobirama's heart flared again. He did not yet bring the vial to your lips yet - as much as he hated it, the contents were regretfully precious. He couldn't risk spilling a drop of it and thus watched you carefully for any signs of resistance and by extension any need of restraint. Methodically as he was, the ordeal became more stressful by each passing second.

Your eyelids fluttered as you huffed briefly, another groan escaping your lips. It sounded pained this time. Your head shook pitifully from side to side as your eyes rolled back in their sockets again. Were you trying to shake off the delirium that was creeping up on you? Or were you trying to shake him off? Forcing you would add another dimension of anguish to this procedure - he opted to take a moment, for now.

Try to avoid that at least.

"I know," Tobirama uttered in an attempt to pacify you again. The hand that had grasped around the base of your neck let its fingers stroke the base of your scalp gently. "You have to," he muttered, not being able to keep the agony out of his baritone voice now as a jitter snuck into his tone, "I'll be doing everything I can to make it better, Y/n." He didn't want to promise it would be  fine .

For all he knew, he was feeding you poison that would send you on another horror trip.

His heart hammered in a tormented rhythm again.

Your response was yet another anguished groan, but your eyes opened now - fixating him.

"Please, Y/n," he whispered again, no, he pleaded. Please don't make me do worse again, he wanted to say. Instead he massaged your scalp again gently. I would, if I have to, please don’t -

In a rare streak of luck, you stilled then and simply closed your eyes. A fact Tobirama wordlessly uttered gratitude for.

He brought the vial to your lips and tilted it very slightly so the dreaded poison was lapping at your lips.

Your face scrunched.

"I know," he hushed again, though inwardly he tensed. He absolutely must not lose a single drop of this damned substance. If you so much as -

Finally though you opened your mouth slightly to drink it - "Careful," he cautioned quickly but a few gulps later, the substance was gone.

Tobirama felt sorrow budding inside him again as he gently lowered your head back to the pillow. He didn't withdraw his hand yet but rather let it slide up to caress your cheek tenderly, sighing heavily. Your breathing had already begun to even out.

He had wanted to tell you he'd be there - but there was no more time. Instead he closed his eyes to let his chakra graze over your network in an utterly warm and smooth way. With no small amount of grief he witnessed how its flow was becoming more dull again, how the fight against the disruption was stilling. Slowly, he intensified the connection and shifted his focus to your brain again, where activity was picking rapidly. Quickly, he smothered your consciousness with his chakra in the most tender way he could.

Whether or not you could still bear witness to the insane firework that your sensory cortices were unleashing on you, Tobirama couldn't know. He let his chakra linger a moment longer to examine you in hopes of finding an answer to the question - but it was futile.

Time to withdraw.

He removed his hand slowly and then procured a blindfold that he wrapped around your head loose enough for you to remove when you came to again. Then, he rose to his feet and walked to the window to close it, drew the curtains closed so the room was completely dark save for the light coming in from the hall.

Silently, he bid you a regretful goodbye, not even daring to speak now before he left the room and closed the door without making a sound.

See you in a few hours.

As soon as he turned around after sighing again heavily, a familiar voice called out.

"Tobirama!"

His head whipped around to the source of the noise. The worries and sorrow were swept away by stinging irritation. "Shut up, anija!", he hissed through clenched teeth. The handful of people in the hall turned their heads, but as per usual, Tobirama couldn't care less.

Hashirama froze in his tracks. He knew his brother's temper of course, but that attack felt uncalled for - he could tell by the telltale crease of his eyebrows, or what Tobirama sometimes mocked as the ‘kicked puppy look’ his elder brother had down to a science.

Either way, he stormed over towards Hashirama and still managed to not make a sound while doing so. "I just gave her the next dose," he explained, still not bothering to pipe down on the anger.

Hashirama held his hands up apologetically, smirking. "Ah," was all he got out now.

Tobirama huffed and then clicked his tongue to motion for his brother to follow him.

"I set up the laboratory in the basement," he began to explain, leading the way to just there. "I thought about a few things, too." He frowned. "You mentioned there was no storage of herbs or anything else that possibly might have been used to craft drugs or medicine of any kind?"

Hashirama hummed in an affirmative way. "No storage, no. But there was some laboratory equipment." His tone was thoughtful enough to make Tobirama think he already was on the same track he was.

"Then that means they either gathered everything they needed for the drug in Konoha or we actually brought with us the last of their supplies and they were running out of this 'leash'." A cold shiver ran down his spine at the implication of the latter. Not just for what it meant for you had they not managed to break you - but also your current predicament.

Your lifespan did not exceed a week right now, at most. If the Stone shinobi had used anything Tobirama couldn't procure here-

A tight feeling wrapped around his chest. His pace picked up if just to combat the budding ache in his heart.

He simply would not lose you.

Hashirama hummed again, but this time on a different note. "I don't think they were running out. The fact there was no excessive storage capacity down there speaks against that - Y/n had been in their clutches for weeks."

Now it was Tobirama's turn to ponder again. His brother was right. The hideout was not something that had been planned ahead meticulously. Furthermore, "They had not been planning on capturing Y/n, either. Which means they couldn't have brought excessive amounts of the drug with them. Besides, it is highly impractical to pack too much when infiltrating enemy lines." The logic was calming. That means it must be possible to synthesise the drug.

Sadly, Hashirama had another thought. "That is, of course, if they had no other means to prolong the onset of withdrawal symptoms - that the leash we brought with us actually just would’ve been used to tether more people to it."

Tobirama froze in his tracks. He turned around to glance at his brother with a frown. "Explain." He didn’t have to. He already knew what his brother was on about.

Hashirama sighed. "We know this drug firstly enhances all sensory capabilities in extreme ways, to first make the victim more susceptible to torture. Alright. But there is this chakra component to the drug," his index finger and thumb grasped his chin. "From what we've ascertained it firstly near freezes chakra flow. Later, the victim’s chakra begins to flow freely again, but then drug - and this I have not yet understood - disrupts the flow. The disruption causes the ultimately lethal effects of the withdrawal as the body tries to repel it worse and worse, causing systemic inflammation and ultimately shock. Repetitive dosages stop this effect, evidently. Thus the name, I presume. However, it is possible to think there might be some way - some treatment, maybe a jutsu - to set the disruption off again."

The argument was sound - and unsettling. It’d add another dimension of complexity to a problem that already smelled awfully rotten by how mysterious its components were looking. Tobirama blinked then, remembering something - “I doubt it. Y/n told me they frequently made her ingest a substance. Furthermore, remember how she reacted when we gave her the first dose. She was used to the psychotropic effects, thus the… intense moment.” The moment he made her think she was back in captivity.

Hashirama hummed only for a moment, then he nodded in agreement. “You are right. That does seem to rule out my theory.” Silence stretched for a few more moments, a fine frown forming on his brother’s forehead - Tobirama knew he was about to say something he wouldn’t appreciate. “I’m afraid I have the distinct notion that the chakra altering effects and the disruption the drug causes must be the product of alterations to an original substance. Either with chakra or by a jutsu, even.” His usually warm gaze was hard now - and Tobirama knew why.

It was one thing to recreate the contents of a poison - fairly easy, even, if one had a good lead. But to simply copy something like an alteration of an item with chakra or a jutsu even - that was a far more complicated task.

A task that would take up more time - time  you  didn’t have. Tobirama exhaled a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as his other arm clasped around his chest in order to quell the swelling ache that was budding there, the haunting  feeling forming. Of course he was confident in his skills.

But the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher.

If he didn’t figure this out in time -

You’d -

He shook his head briefly to sweep out the overcoming sense of a looming doom that was budding faster than he could control it and swallowed drily as though that’d help it  somehow .

His hand dropped from his face and his arms were crossed in front of his chest now as he considered his brother's words. He took another deep breath. "Unfortunately, I agree. The drug does give off a weak chakra signature. We face a couple of questions," he finally answered, after a brief moment. "First off, how is the chakra altering component of the drug related to its psychotropic effect?" He quirked up an eyebrow. But he already was turning around to continue on their way down to the laboratory.

However, he continued - might as well speak freely about the figurative business order now. "Secondly, how does the withdrawal effect set in? Is it because of metabolic shifts due to a lack of the substance? That would mean the disruption is part of a physical addiction. Or, does the drug actually alter its effect based on the time since indigestion? That… will be even more difficult to replicate." His voice was already gruff - by difficult, he meant near impossible without so much as a lead. Such a feat was poison maker master class. Extensive involvement of chakra, no less.

The ache of his heart began to constrict his chest worse again; he took rebellious, even breaths against it. Outwardly he remained perfectly calm - truth be told, he was. Even in the face of this adversary.

It just meant he had no choice but to try and give it his all. He desperately hoped this option was not the case.

Hashirama's voice was grim now, too. He was well aware of the implication. "It doesn't have to be that complicated. It might be related to the blood levels of the drug. That can drastically alter the effects of medications."

Tobirama's frown smoothed somewhat - he was aware of his brother's attempt to get off the grim route his thoughts had been taking, but the objection was sound nonetheless. "Or it's both." Still, Tobirama wasn't so naive to get infected by his brother's ever present optimism.

Even if right now, he really could do with some sunshine.

Hashirama let out one of his rare exasperated sighs. "Or that." He, on the other hand, wouldn't get infected by his younger brother’s pessimism, either. Or realism, as Tobirama liked to call it. No, Hashirama just became annoyed at times.

They reached the door of the makeshift laboratory. Tobirama half had a mind to lock the door after they entered simply so nobody would interrupt him, but then he might not be notified if anything was wrong with you.

Hashirama strode over to the bench hoisting the equipment, exhaling a low whistle. Tobirama followed and eyed the small vial of the 'leash' he had drawn off the bottle they had. The least possible amount, at least by what he could imagine from his experience.

Hashirama noticed, too. "We'll have to make some considerations beforehand." His tone was serious, his forehead wrinkled in ponder.

Tobirama huffed. "Of course." He crossed his arms again. "Based on our considerations they must have used ingredients found within the Land of Fire. More precisely, the area where Y/n was kept."

"That is not too helpful. That area is a vast forest with rich vegetation. And we don't know how far they went to gather them." Hashirama countered thoughtfully.

"You are right. But we need to start somewhere. And that is analysing what is in this," his fingernail flicked at the vial, "before we think about the effect on the victim’s chakra. Furthermore," Tobirama added with a roll of his shoulders, "only a handful of the plants that grow in the area, even in the wider area, have the intense psychotropic effects we witnessed in Y/n. Or the potential to develop them." He turned to gaze at his brother through narrowed eyelids again.

Hashirama's mien was unreadable. "We need to know what's in there and in what quantities. Then we will still need to figure out how to make it work. There is another problem." His brown eyes turned to Tobirama now. He was perfectly grave now.

Tobirama could guess what this problem was. "How are we going to test the experiments?" His baritone voice was just as low from sincerity.

Hashirama nodded.

Of course, he also had given that some thought. But the answer to that question was very simple. At least to him. Tobirama held his gaze evenly. When he spoke his next choice words, his heart didn't miss a beat. "There are five willing test subjects in the interrogation and torture headquarters right now. Six, actually." Akio must have arrived by now, too.

Hashirama sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. "That's a step too far, Tobirama. It might severely harm them. Kill them, even." His tone became stern. “They’re our prisoners.”

Tobirama bristled with low, swirling anger. And this, too, he had expected from his brother - moral qualms with what Tobirama figured was very sound logic. He crossed his arms, his stare boring through his brother. "What do you suggest then, anija?" His voice dropped below zero. "Test everything on Y/n?"

The question was rhetorical, of course. And Tobirama knew that his brother knew - in fact he dared him to answer it.

Hashirama closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. "I am not, of course," he readily answered before Tobirama could make a cutting comment on your condition or deliver another scathing, cynical remark.

Tobirama seized the silence that followed. "They were trespassing our borders, captured one of our own and tortured her brutally and cruelly for  weeks  . Call me biased for Y/n's involvement, if you will. But between all our options for this problem, they're the most logical one."

Hashirama fell silent. He turned back to the table and gripped the edge, opening his eyes slowly.

Tobirama briefly considered upping the stakes by throwing Mito's name into the mixture - but he knew he didn't need to. It seemed unnecessarily cruel anyway - and it was not wise to tug at emotional strings in an argument like this. Besides, Hashirama on the other hand would be well aware of his brother's predicament, on top of the fact that he was most suitable for the job either way. Tobirama  was  a very good scientist, no matter who had been tethered to the leash.

Still. His brother's voice was heavy when he spoke again. "They still will receive every bit of safety we can grant them. And no unnecessary or cruel tests will be conducted." His gaze swayed to Tobirama, leaving no question about how much he meant that.

Tobirama arched an eyebrow slowly. He certainly wouldn't treat test subjects carelessly - they were in short supply, held vital information and were his only outlet for testing substances he'd end up using on - you. "Of course." His voice still was icy, though.

Hashirama held his gaze a moment longer, but then turned to the laboratory gear in front of him. "Let's begin."

They set up a variety of standard chemical procedures to determine the contents of the leash - different experiments that would, based on their results, narrow down the ingredients until they finally knew what exactly they were dealing with. The problem was that for some of the herbs in question more detailed chemical information was not available and thus they needed to test them themselves - fortunately, Konoha had all of the plants available in the first place. No further delays - except for the time the experiments themselves would take.

Tobirama had a pretty good feeling about the results - the answer to what was in the leash was getting closer, at least its contents. Not just for the fact that if the Stone shinobi had used Konoha herbs for this - but also based on his own experience with poisons, toxins and what he had seen in you.

Frankly what truly set him on edge was the very real - very likely - possibility that this drug was a far more devious concoction using not just chemical components, but also chakra itself which would be more difficult to replicate - counter, too.

Not just difficult. Near impossible.

He had to fight that thought down. One step after the other. Nonetheless it made his work swift as he couldn’t help but wonder if he was running from something that’d be crushing him.

You, actually.

After they had set up the last experiment, he gazed at the clock. There still was time before you'd wake from the sleep he had put you in - before the first phase of the leash had worn off.

He decided to put it to good use.

"Get more rest, Tobirama," Hashirama advised, after they both finished washing their hands. Was there concern in his voice?

Tobirama snorted. "I did that. Don't worry, anija." He went for the door, holding it open for Hashirama.

His brother rolled his eyes. "I don't think Y/n would appreciate how you're treating yourself, brother." He mentioned in passing.

Tobirama's gut churned, his gaze narrowing immediately. He knew precisely what kind of response Hashirama had sought to elicit from him. Right now, it only resonated in his worry and heartache. "Maybe. But she's not here because I'm being forced to drug her and put her to sleep after."

Hashirama stopped in his tracks to stare at his brother incredulously. "Do you practice this kind of caustic demeanor?"

Tobirama locked the door and shook his head. "No, it comes naturally. Easily, actually after everything that happened. And all that still goes on." His scarlet gaze turned to his brother again.

Hashirama's shoulders drooped. "We'll save her, Tobirama."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to soothe the tight feeling in his chest. "We will."

Hashirama returned to his duties while Tobirama returned to a place he had high hopes for: the interrogation and torture unit's headquarters. Except there was one problem: it was late evening by now. Night, almost. A triviality to Tobirama, but it might cause a problem now of course. He still opted to stride in like he was part of the unit altogether - at the very least, they should know to expect him again after his first visit.

What a pleasant surprise it had been to actually find out not only had they known he'd return in a timely manner but also were prepared to receive him at this time of the day.

He could get used to that.

"Sleep deprivation is one of the most effective ways of… gaining information," his guide, Ikuro of the Yamanaka clan, provided after Tobirama had wondered that the building was still this busy this time of the day. A burly man, probably quite a couple of years older than Tobirama, who carried himself with remarkable grace for someone of his stature. His voice was deceptively friendly.

Tobirama was satisfied he seemed to be the one in charge of the six Stone shinobi.

"So, what have you found out about this 'leash'?"

Ikuro pursed his lips in a displeased manner. "I'm afraid they're all well trained when it comes to resisting our… methods," he answered slowly, waving for Tobirama to follow him down the corridor and the stairs he knew would take him to their cells.

However now, they took a turn into an adjourned office - where Ikuro picked up a piece of paper from the desk. "We've gleaned shreds from them, so far. The leash is more than just a drug administered to a victim, it seems."

Tobirama's neck hair rose up. Crossing his arms, he narrows his eyelids again to give Ikuro a glare that left little open about the urgency. Frankly he half had a mind to just snatch the piece of paper from him and read it himself.

Ikuro however was not fazed the slightest, in fact he had not even gazed up at Tobirama. "We can't say for sure yet, but what we learned strongly suggests it is a combination of drugs with some form of chakra. A jutsu, even, possibly."

That hit him like a punch in the gut.

Tobirama took a step to the side and raked through his hair with a hand. He knew this - his brother and himself had expected it, it had been logical - but to get the information now still felt like a physical strike. The heavy feeling inside of him had spread from his chest to his shoulders. He felt his heart hammer again in a painfully familiar war as he took deep and even breaths through the heartache that gripped him again.

Quickly, he forced himself to regain his composure. His task had just become a lot more difficult. He had known, really, prepared for this, so he should be calm - even if this was near impossibl-

No. He must not think that way.

Researching jutsu was even more up his alley than anything else in this mess. In fact, he’d go as far as to say the involvement of chakra made this all the more his business. Really, the daunting fact was he had never encountered anything like the leash and without a lead he might as well search for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

While you were dying.

He felt like shouting profanities. Actually, he should've expected this. He felt stupid for even thinking it might be as simple as finding out what herbs they used.

"I see. Anything else?" His baritone voice was neutral.

"The effects of the drug, though ... I'm sure you know those already." Ikuro considered him with a careful glance now.

Tobirama was getting more impatient. He sighed. "There still might be more information." He extended his hand. "Please?", he hoped that had sounded as polite as he wanted it to.

And not as irritated as he felt.

Ikuro hesitated again. “I must warn you.”

Tobirama’s gaze narrowed as he once more reminded himself why it was important to behave, not snatch up the paper and read it. Even so, he wouldn’t conceal the irritation in his voice anymore. Anyone who tries to stall him would burn up his patience faster than dry parchment. “I am very confident whatever it is, I can take it. As you know, I’ve seen and done a lot myself at this point.”

The burly man was entirely unfazed and only shook his head dismissively. “It is possible the information we got here might be flawed, or even incorrect, serving only to demoralise you. The prisoners are well equipped to handle torture. This? This was almost too easy to obtain. And… it isn’t pretty.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine. He had a distinct notion as to what part of the leash this information did pertain. His jaws clenched so hard muscles hurt - only for a moment as he steeled himself for what was to come. “I need to know everything.”

Ikuro handed him the precious sheet wordlessly then.

Tobirama read it at record speed.

And instantly, his stomach clenched in a most uncomfortable way by now he only thought his heart would be doing.

In great detail, the effects of the withdrawal from the leash were described - starting with what you had experienced down to far more sinister and horrible stages. First came fever, disorientation, muscle cramps. Then, pain followed - this section was so colorful Tobirama knew someone had directed it at him. Searing, burning, splicing - from the inside out the victim would suffer brutally. After the pain came the real damage to the victim’s organs as their own chakra would try to repel the disruptors - the perceived pain became that of actual tissue dying, extremely excruciating while the body shut down piece by piece. Victims were confined to their own heads but never far away enough to stop feeling the pain. Death would be mercy, at last.

He closed his eyes momentarily to force away the pictures of you in the hospital bed; pale, lifeless, unmoving.

That won’t happen.

He would not allow it.

Inhaling a sharp breath he tried to reason this might be just a ploy as Ikuro had stated - or not. It didn’t matter, because this wouldn’t come to pass. Yet it didn’t exactly make stomaching the other bits to this report easier. Specifically the few clues about the nature of the leash - the implication was clear.

Chakra was involved in some way.

The question now was to what extent - how sophisticated. Was it responsible for the effects on your chakra network and therefore by extension the withdrawal, their main problem? Or did the chakra alter the contents in such a fashion they affected the chakra network? Already, Tobirama began to devise tests to ascertain just that.

While fighting against the constricting tightness that wound around his chest. Stole his breath. Stabbed his heart. You wouldn’t be lying dead in a bed-

It was daunting. And yet-

"You've not managed to break them, yet?" He finally inquired, rising up an eyebrow questioningly, perfectly at ease.

If Ikuro was surprised that Tobirama handled himself well - outwardly - then he did not show it at all. "I'm afraid it's not that easy. Not only are all of them resilient, they've also been subjected to several mental protection jutsu. Befitting for a squad with their task."

Tobirama exhaled an exasperated sigh. "Of course." He was irritated. Nothing came easy, here.

"Except," Ikuro spoke up again, arching an eyebrow, "For the prisoner called Akio. I must admit, I'm impressed with your work there, Tobirama. Though I'm afraid you've gone a bit too far. He's… broken apart." Ikuro tilted his head slightly.

Tobirama felt no shred of regret or pity for his actions or Akio. It had been absolutely necessary. Maybe a shinobi like Ikuro would've made better work of him, but they did not have such a person available then. It was as simple as that. Besides, he simply couldn't see past the current predicament he - you - found yourself in. "He is lowest in rank and didn't even know about the 'leash' to begin with. But I'll be sure to take lessons next time," Tobirama added in a sarcastic tone.

Ikuro smiled drily. "Oh, don't get me wrong - it was good work. Just intense."

Tobirama huffed. "It was an intense moment." He decided to leave it at that and switch the topic: "I'm currently replicating the 'leash' in order to secure Y/n's immediate survival," he explained as neutrally as he could, but the constricting sensation around his chest was becoming worse. "I'll need to test out my experiments results. I've gotten my brother's permission to do so on these six prisoners."

Ikuro's eyebrows rose slowly. A smile formed that might have creeped out a more fainthearted person easily. "I see. Well, we welcome such inventions," his tone was velvety.

Tobirama wasn't sure how to feel about that just now. This leash was a powerful weapon that would fit well in Konoha's arsenal. He left it at that.

"It might help cracking them open, too," Tobirama added.

"Indeed." Ikuro grinned now. Then, he mellowed somewhat. "We'll be working both angles. The leash, as well as breaking them to get the information needed to cure Y/n."

Tobirama gave a somber nod. That he was sure of.

By the time Tobirama walked back to the hospital, the moon was shining pale over the village. Still, he spared his surroundings no second thought.

His focus was entirely on his objective once more. It was easy to smother the looming sense of doom that haunted him by breathing the fresh air. Venting his mind. Reorganise, recuperate. Walks like this often helped him. There was a lot of work to be done.

You still were living on borrowed time, as it was.

And today he had learned that extending that time alone will be a far more difficult task than he initially had thought it to be. Frankly identifying the contents of the leash was the least of his problems now - he was quite confident the experiments they had set up would already show what herbs are involved. But the modification with chakra - to what extent had it altered the substance? Or was it chakra itself that caused the disruption? A jutsu?

Questions he had asked himself before, that now bored into his mind in a fashion that almost caused a headache.

The clock was ticking fast, and all he could do was come up with more questions while it stole the breath from his lungs. If he didn’t find answers fast, then you’d die one of the most horrible deaths he ever read about.

It was a huge, damn mess.

"Fuck!", he shouted suddenly, and in a rare fit of unleashed anger, he kicked at the next pebble in front of him.

A groan pressed past his clenched teeth as he raked through his short hair again. He huffed. Then he sighed. When he entered the hospital lobby and checked the clock in the hall, he cursed under his breath. His little excursion had taken longer than he had expected - he should have used his hiraishin seal to get to you. You should be awake again by now.