#for anything even near the general area of bullshit will be way fucking lower and most things will have me just like

[darkelfchicksick]

Ich habe 1.714 Mal im Jahr 2022 etwas gepostet

Das sind 486 more posts als 2021!

264 Einträge erstellt (15%)

1.450 Einträge gerebloggt (85%)

Blogs, die ich am häufigsten gerebloggt habe:

@tayilapologist

@eisbecherovka

@natalieironside

@unpretty

@ptactwo

Ich habe 757 meiner Einträge im Jahr 2022 getaggt

#everquest 2 – 89 Einträge

#the locked tomb – 50 Einträge

#my art – 40 Einträge

#eq inktober – 24 Einträge

#everquest – 22 Einträge

#lucan d'lere – 19 Einträge

#eq2 – 18 Einträge

#tlt – 17 Einträge

#tayil n'velex – 15 Einträge

#pentiment – 15 Einträge

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#a song with two first verses that are so fucking perfect for your fantasy bullshit story. a soldier with his big big sword. the poet who'll

Meine Top-Einträge im Jahr 2022:

#5

two young men were killed in a shooting in a gay bar in Bratislava, Slovakia, last evening

another person was shot and is in the hospital, but their life isn't in danger

the perpetrator fled the scene but has since reportedly been found dead

an anonymous twitter profile that is believed to belong to the perpetrator posted a queerphobic and antisemitic manifesto hours before the attack, citing breivik and hitler as inspiration.

the german article i found has some more info than the first one, but is in german.

105 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 13. Oktober 2022

#4

harrow isn't FEMME harrow wears ROBES because she's a goddamn WIZARD

115 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 20. Mai 2022

#3

alright, so, on a personal note re:crab rave

earlier this year i was fact-checking a planner that had a page with "fun facts about canada" in it

one of the fun facts? queen Elizabeth ii is head of state

this was during the height of the "she's already dead" conspiracy theory

so i decided, quite reasonably, to suggest changing the sentence to "king or queen of england," juuust in case she dies before the new school year starts. i got shot down, of course, and at the end of the day, whatever. as always with my job, literally whatever. gets printed with lizzie's name in it

i forget about it

September 8th: crab day

September 13th: the new school year starts

i love being right

191 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 9. September 2022

#2

So where *is* Tassing, actually?

Obviously it’s nowhere. But actually, it’s also several specific places in a specific area.

As someone who lives and has lived in several parts of Oberbayern, I'm so tickled by placing Tassing on a map. While trying to find a region it would fit in with all the clues the game gives, I also found several monasteries that probably contributed to the way Kiersau was written and created.

Names

Tassing fits a common naming scheme in Oberbayern. Places with an -ing name in Austria and Altbayern (roughly congruent with the present-day administrative districts Upper Bavaria, Lower Bavaria and Upper Palatinate) were founded in a specific time frame, the Baiuvarian Settling of the Alps. Up until the 7th century CE, the alpine landscape was inhabited by slavs, but from the 7th to 9th century, the Baiuvarii, a germanic group of people, moved into the area and ended up either displacing or integrating the slavic people into their own society. Examples of Baiuvarian -ing names in Upper Bavaria include Pasing (With the people of Paso/Paoso/Poso/Poaso), Menzing (With the people of Menzo) or Poing (With the people of Piuwo). Tassing might have been re-settled, founded or just be associated with a man named Tasso, and should be located somewhere in Altbayern.

Kiersau is a strange name to me and finding an etymologically-based interpretation, like for Tassing, is harder. (In general, trying to find etymologies for place names is often more educated guessing than anything else.) The Bavarian meaning of Au (or Aue) is a flat piece of land with meadows and forests located near a river (also: floodplain). The problematic part is Kiers. I'm choosing to put it down as Kirsche, cherry. Why? Well, cherry trees were brought across the Alps by Romans, and the Roman past of Kiersau and Tassing is important to the story. It might also just be a reference to Hirsau, a famous Benedictine monastery in the Black Forest.

None of the first or last names of the peasants, merchants or craftsmen in Tassing give any kind of hint as to where the place is located. Names like Bauer (farmer), Gertner (gardener) or Zimmermann (carpenter) are extremely common, and the more uncommon ones, like Alban, don't help narrowing it down either.

Area

We get one look at an Early Modern map of Europe, with a few mountain ranges, rivers, some of the most siginficant trade roads, and Tassing marked on it. We know that Tassing is part of the Prince-Bishopric of Freising in 1518 and borders directly on Tyrolia. We know it's in Bavaria, which I'm deciding to identify as the Bavarian territory of the Holy Roman Empire. I'm not getting into the true borders of Bavaria on my overly researched Pentiment post. We also learn that one of the Roman trade routes, possibly relateed to salt, was built to run past Tassing, and that Tassing is located somewhere in the province of Raetia. To identify and overlap all these areas, I have committed a horrible cartographic crime in Photoshop!

I have marked Raetia in yellow, the Roman roads in red, the Prince-Bishopric in brown and the Bavarian territory in blue. This first map shows these areas in a European context.

This one is a closer shot of the whole possible location of Tassing. Now, you might have noticed a little red dot in the lower right, outside of any of the possible areas, right there in Eastern Tyrolia?

Vollständigen Eintrag ansehen

209 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 23. November 2022

Meine #1 des Jahres 2022

the popular German kid's science and knowledge program, die sendung mit der maus, aired a segment with and about trans people today!

670 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 27. März 2022

Hol dir deinen Tumblr-Jahresrückblick 2022 →

[aroperyton]

oh a popular aro experience/feeling?? that i dont relate to (i feel like every arospec person has at least one of those), is the idea that like, nonplatonic relationships inherently being More than platonic relationships to you is inherently wrong+malicious+amatonormative when i like someone nonplatonically not only is there numerous factors/parts of my attraction towards them, but things i do with them OUT OF ATTRACTION that places it above/More Than my platonic relationships both in importance/priority with the ppl i know And in how i feel about them elaborating;

>if im nonplatonically attracted to someone theres a lot that factors in to it, this person just Existing inherently makes me feel good in this and that and this and that way and when they say my name or call me this or say this kind of thing to me it makes me feel this and this and thinking of them makes me wanna be with them more and think of things id wanna do in the future and being with them only intensifies that and makes me seriously try to plan a (albeit short-term) relationship with them, and that is how they make me feel -but with my friends there isn't any of this, there is no deep underlying feeling and devotion and me being Drawn to and appealed by and positive feelings that makes me want to do things with them, because i'm not attracted to them!!!! if i talk to a person and they seem cool i'll talk to them more cause talking to them's nice and That is IT that is the whole story nothing more nothing less!!!!! i describe this as platonic Attachment moreso than Attraction

>when i am nonplatonically attracted to someone, it's BECAUSE i feel all those aforementioned positive things towards them that DIRECTLY leads to - like, is on the same exact path as - wanting to do/doing shit with them! i wanna kiss em Because i'm attracted to them! i wanna wrap my arm around theirs and hold their hand Because i'm attracted to them! i wanna wrap around them in general Because i'm attracted to them! i wanna call them 8a83 and for them to call me whatever Because i'm attracted to them! i wanna do this and that and this and that BECAUSE i think they are hot and/or cute and they make me feel a way that makes me wanna do that stuff!!!! -but when someone is my friend, i do things with them just for the sake of doing stuff! i don't talk to them cause everything they say makes me go awww and wish we could move in together more, i talk to them cause i like hearing what they have to say and what they have to say is good and they're nice to talk to!! if i wanna cuddle them or kiss them on the cheek/forehead/whatever or be with them physically etc etc etc it's because they are and have been a Good Friend, ie They Are And Have Been Consistantly Good At Talking To Me and handling our relationship (ie saying the right things to me at the right time, ie not Saying 'shut up i hate you!!' when i Say 'im sad :(' /exaggerated, but you get the idea) which results in trust and respect and enjoyment of Our Relationship, IE, Us Talking To Eachother.

>so my nonplatonic relationships Usually (KEYWORD USUALLY!! while its not a kind of relationship i have a lot, i Have had nonplatonic relationships where i'd go to certain friends Before i'd go to my partner for some things and i DO disagree with the amatonormative ever-present notion that your partner HAS to come first and your friends will ALWAYS come last) come first because if i lose them or ignore them to Only spend time with my friends when i could spend it with them etc i am not just losing Someone To Talk To i am losing someone who inherently makes me happy and at ease and enjoying them Because They Are Them, and i am losing this and that and this and that thing to do that makes me happy bc im doing it with Them and able to just stew in how much i like them and how attractive they are -but! as stated before! my friendships are essentially just Talking To Someone and doing things to show youre glad theyre there because of how good talking to them is!! and if i lose them then well shit bro i can talk to fucking anyone else!!!!!! they mightve been someone who i could talk to abt a specific thing i couldnt trust with anyone else or maybe they'd talk in a specific way regarding certain things that was really comforting, BUT AGAIN THATS JUST ME BEING SAD OVER NOT TALKING TO THEM NOT BEING SAD OVER HOW I FEEL ABOUT THEM OR NOT BEING ABLE TO EXPRESS MY ATTRACTION VIA WHATEVER NONPLATONIC ACTION

(worth noting i am alloaro so if some of this reads as my nonplatonic relationships kinda railing off the ability to Do Something Out Of my attraction to them and how Attractive they are instead of just being with them and Them and my Ability to Be with them, there uh. ah. theres a reason for that ;>___>) so u might be reading this and going, oh, clove, that sounds like you're aplatonic! and you'd be right! but this is where it hits a wall cause i HAVE experienced platonic Attraction before. i Have been Drawn to and appealed by and, well, Attracted To someone.... out of platonicness. i Have felt a positive and emotional way towards someone that made me want to do things with them not to show appreciation but just out of how much they made me feel and how i felt about them, but in a platonic way! which might read as 'no homo'-y and we were just awkward friends but 'friends' was Not how we described, or not the sole way we'd describe our relationship, because we were More Than Friends*, but we weren't dating or being sexual or anything nonplatonic, but we weren't just friends, but we'd have recurring issues of ppl thinking we Were nonplatonic and that wasn't the case, but it really was way More than any regular friendship at least as far as we knew, but- so we defined that as a qpr and that was the best way to explain it and to this day i still feel like that explains it p solid even if the definitions for it aren't always the same and some aren't what i'd use for that one specifically, which crosses off another definition for aplatonic past 'i have experienced platonic attraction', 'i have had+wanted a qpr', And! that relationship and the way i felt overshadows how not-attracted to my friends i am and how clear cut the definition between 'friend' and 'not-friend [gayly]' is for me! which crosses out the last thing! so i just. feel weird abt it all. bottom line is that i know people aren't saying this shit for No Reason and if i want affirmation of the concept of 'nonplatonic relationships are more than platonic ones' i don't even have to fucking go outside i can just look literally anywhere that isn't wholly and entirely the aro community dedicated to arospec and aro-related discussion...... but i wish people wouldn't act like/imply that since this is how a lot of aro people feel, that this is not only an inherent intrinsic universal arospec experience/feeling, but that anything different directly goes against other aro people, even if the person in question is. also arospec. BUT MAYBE thats just me being hierarchy_polyamory_luvr_500 and not someone who relates to or particularly Wants to specifically aim for relationship anarchy with all my relationships started and maintained by myself, which is a whole nother post, BUT ANYHOO. don't throw affectionate/attraction-ing/partnering/amorous aros under the bus please lol XD

*ik this is kinda a loaded way to describe a relationship/feelings towards someone but wrt this specific relationship, i mean it in the sense of like.

if this makes sense? it's more than friends, but because it's still platonic feelings, it's just farther along the line of and has more going on than just regular friends, therefore. more than friends+not just friends. but the concept of a nonplatonic 'more than/not just friends' is not lost on me when it's not coming from like, a romance movie, cause -GESTURES AT THE ENTIRE FIRST 3/4THS OF THIS POST-

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 15 (finally) ((oops)) !!!!!

First  • Previous  • Here  • Next

Oh my god you guys. I’m really sorry for saying yesterday and then not making the update (But on a better note I passed that final!!!!!!) and because of how hellish this week promises to be i’m not gonna make any other attempts at promising updates. I will say that my school isn’t normally near this hectic, so things should calm down come Sunday. Hopefully.

Enjoy!!

Red Hood was the first to speak, lowering his head in a wince. “Damn, kid. Sorry.”

“We had no idea.” Red Robin said quietly. “I hope you can believe us about this, at least. If the Justice League — or even just us- had known about this at any point for the last four years, we would not have let you face it alone.”

Gravely, Batman spoke. “What measures are you taking to find Hawkmoth?”

Adrien and Chloé both looked to her and she suppressed a sigh. As the Guardian, she supposed she actually did understand the most about this. 

“One of the powers granted by the Miraculous is a mask of anonymity. How do you think five teenagers have managed to keep their identities all this time? The magic around the jewels keeps us from being recognized in our superhero forms, and that includes the leaps of logic needed to puzzle out who the person behind the mask is. It’s why I felt safe enough to come ask for help from the supposed best detectives in the superhero world. It would take me detransforming right in front of you to reveal me.”

“That’s all well and good,” Robin said. “But what measures have you taken to find Hawkmoth? You don’t necessarily need to find his identity to track him down.”

Marinette tried not to scowl at his patronizing tone. “Due to how his powers work, we’ve been unable to do anything other than figure out a general area that he operates in. If you’ve found the blog, we’ve been using the maps generated during each Akuma attack to figure out his general range. But we think he may have either multiple places, or that he might be transforming out of his lair and sending Akumas out like that to mess with our data. And we aren’t exactly able to track the butterflies when they can fly through solid objects.”

“And you’re teens, with busy lives and no actual support system for superheroing, so it’s insanely difficult to devote much of your actual time to being proactive against him, other than the patrols your videos mention,” Red Robin summarized. Marinette nodded, Chloé and Adrien echoing the motion.

Batman just sighed. “I’m unsure of how wise it would be to actually send one of us to Paris to help you, if Hawkmoth targets those with dark emotions. But we will dig into this, and I promise we will do anything we can to assist you in your fight.”

“Oracle and I can start working on something,” Red Robin suggested, and the other three nodded. 

“If you need to contact us-“ Marinette pulled out her yo-yo, and opened it up to the screen. “This is how you can contact me. I’ll be notified of any messages or calls even outside the suit.” She offered them the yo-yo, extremely secure in the knowledge that now matter how they try to bug it, it would never work.

Red Robin took it, and after fiddling with it for a moment, looked back at her. “Isn’t this also your weapon? How does that work?”

He sounded distressed by it, and his expression only dropped further when Adrien laughed and said, “Magic.”

“Do you mind if we stay a bit?” Chloé asked, “If you want to accompany us, I wouldn’t mind, but I was kind of interested in seeing Gotham.”

Marinette caught Robin smirking, and wondered why, before Batman opened his mouth.

“I—”

“—Can run some kids around Gotham for a little bit,” Red Hood cut him off. “C’mon, Bats, let ‘em live a little while they’re visiting. I won’t let them get lost.”

Batman sighed. “Robin, you go with them.”

“Tt.” The other teen moved forward again, up to Batman’s side. “If you insist.”

Marinette wasn’t enthused, but she held her jabs in. 

“Awesome,” Chloé breathed, and as she took a look at her, Marinette recognized some of the way she used to stare at Ladybug. Chloé was trying her best not to actually fangirl over getting to spend time with some of the Gotham vigilantes.

It brought back vivid memories of Chloé running around in her Ladybug suit, pretending to save the day. 

And then Chloé gave her a dirty look that said she knew exactly what she was thinking, and leapt straight off the tower.

“Abeille!” Marinette scolded, running over to the ledge. Chloé was hanging below, laughing. 

“You’re too uptight, Ladybug, live a little.” A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to see Red Hood. “Hey, Bee-girl. Race you to that blue roof.” 

“Me first!” Adrien yelled, bounding past them, propelling himself with his staff out into the open air. Red Hood shot his grappling gun and swung after, and Marinette sighed.

“I work with children,” she grumbled, only to be met with laughter from Red Robin. She turned back to them. “Thank you, Batman, for what you’re doing for us. It means- a lot.”

He nodded at her, and then to Robin, before he and Red Robin flung themselves from the side of the roof, both heading in the opposite direction from her partners.

“You and me, then,” Marinette said to Robin. With a thought, she smirked. “Bet you we can make it to that rooftop before they do.”

“Tt, Red Hood has probably already gotten distracted by another passing fancy.” Why did the way he said that sound familiar? “But I believe you are correct.” And he rushed off.

She matched him, swing for swing. And silently, they stole through the sky, listening to Chat Noir baiting Red Hood about something, Abeille snarking over his comeback, their teammates laughter covering the sound of them thoroughly catching up and then, without warning, surpassing them.

“Hey!” Abeille called, and suddenly it was an actual race. 

Marinette gave Robin one look and he, by some miracle, seemed to understand. They split around a building, and Marinette was on her own. 

Each swing brought her higher, each view of Gotham new and beautiful and confusing, until she heard it. 

On the streets below her, a raised voice.

“Chat,” she called as loudly as she dared, knowing that he would hear her. And then she dropped down.

“Please, please, just let me go-“ the woman cried, clutching a bag to her chest.

“Where are you gonna go, huh, Cynthia?” The man asked, looming over her. “A fucking homeless shelter? You gonna sleep on the streets? You know none of your friends are gonna put up with your goddamn bullshit the way I do—”

“Anything’s better than going back with you!” Cynthia shouted, looking terrified. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from stepping in. 

“Madame?” She moves out of the shadows and into the narrow beam of lamplight that covered the street. “What is the problem?”

Cynthia raised her wild eyes to Marinette and dashed towards her, cowering behind. “Please, please, don’t make me go back with him, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Listen, Red,” the man spoke to her. “This ain’t your business. Let me take my girlfriend home, she’s got meds that keep her from doing shit like this-“

“I don’t,” she spat. “Don’t fucking lie, I don’t have meds, you just-“

“Sir,” Marinette said calmly, her pulse like a jackhammer on the inside of her ribs. “If this really is a simple disagreement, perhaps some time apart will help you both collect yourselves. I’m sure—‘

“You ain’t sure of nothin’, bitch,” the man sneered. “That’s my girl. You’ll hand her over to me or you’ll face the goddamn consequences.”

Marinette’s hesitation was her downfall. There was no way she was going to let the man take Cynthia, but she was torn between getting the woman away quickly or trying to talk down the boyfriend. And in the second where she waited, the man chuckled. 

“Please, no,” Cynthia whispered. Marinette turned her head to assure her. The woman looked stricken, eyes wide over Marinette’s shoulder.

The gun she didn’t see him pull went off.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa​ and @crashbarbie​ Thank you so much for you guys support!

Author’s notes: English it’s not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

For those who missed it >> Chapter One

Chapter Two

Bilingual

Steve was hot.

His whole room had become a furnace from the heat that seemed to come from within him. His skin prickled against the sweat covered sheets of his bed and he could taste the metal of his blood as he bit his lip yet again while trying to control a moan.

His clothes were long forgotten by the side of the bed. Everything being too much when in contact with his hypersensitive body. His mouth was dry but his hands felt sticky when he went in to hold his once again hard cock.

“Fuck…” He let out a hiss.

It hurt to touch the warm abused skin, but it hurt even more not to. He looked down to the swelled member in between his hands, grabbing it firmer and coasting through the pain. He could feel it growing hotter and wetter as it leaked at the angry red tip.

Each and every vein in his dick became visible as his movements turned more erratic. The palm of his hands were slippery from all the precum he was producing. The up and down motion so fast he could barely see it now.

A coil started to form in his abdomen, building higher and higher. He could hear himself panting quietly, controlling his own ministrations and the audible reactions to hide the shame as his face heated from the intimate act.

He felt as degraded as he felt desperate. He felt like hiding just as much as he felt like screaming.

There was this unspeakable need metastasizing deep inside of him. The noises he was creating getting louder and whinier.

He threw his head back, closing his eyes and seeing only whiteness. There was a shape forming behind his eyelids. Inviting features appearing bit by bit while the intensity of his pleasure tenfold. He shivered in his bed when the all-consuming fire grazed his loins, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his mouth fall agape.

Beads of transpiration coagulated in his forehead, traveling low down his back and teasing the sensible skin until it made it’s way to the soaked fabric underneath him. He was close. He was so close and so hot.

He was so hot he felt like dying.

He knew there was something missing, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Much like his now too sensitive to the touch dick.

“Shit!” Steve grunted, letting go of the tender piece of flesh.

His head was aching and his hands shaking from the lack of release. The whole room smelled of his rut. In fact, his entire apartment was sending a loud and clear message to any alpha in proximity that at this point he would do about anything to find and mount an omega.

Too bad that they didn’t exist anymore.

They were already pretty rare in his time, but he never thought that he wouldn’t be able to find one to literally save his life.

Ever since Bruce had broke down his condition, Natasha seemed hellbent in finding a solution. But somehow Steve knew that she couldn’t help him. It was almost ancestral how his instincts came forward and took over his judgment.

He didn’t want some chemically engineered version of an omega’s scent. He didn’t want to deliberately trick his new and improved senses. Nor to settle with a generic take on the experience of what being with an omega should feel like.

Even though he was aware it was an overly romanticized principle, Steve was raised to believe that to every alpha there was a perfectly matched omega, and that it was his duty to find her… wherever she was. It sure had stung to realize that he had failed at something so primitive that now his body was punishing him. Of course that, by now, in the thick of his rut, all of that sounded a lot like bullshit.

Accepting the reality imposed to him, one in which he wouldn’t be able to cum no matter how hard he tried, he fought against the heaviness that had settled over his shoulders and stumbled out of bed.

The cold surface of the floor in contact with his feet caused a shiver to run up his spine and he had to hold on to the nightstand when vertigo took over and the room spun.

Mumbling to himself in the silence of his solitude, he struggled to stay up straight, a sickening sensation undulating in his lower belly. His cock stood painfully upwards, a shade of purple dominating the pulsing length, particularly in the shiny whipping head. Not being capable to contain a moan, Steve shuddered whilst making his way to the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

“So hot…” He moaned as he made his way to the spacious bathtub, turning on the tap in order to fill it to the brim with cold water. “I need…”

He could hear movement coming from the living room as if it was happening directly in his ear. The sounds of skin scuffing when in touch with fabric and keys jiggling sharply against one another. Choosing to ignore his own rut induced hallucinations, he closed the tub’s tap, taking in a deep breath when it came time to insert himself into the freezing water.

Steve could swear he saw steam emerging when his burning hot physique was enveloped by the icy liquid. The massive muscles of the super soldier contracting with the effort. The water overlapping as his impressive figure filled out the tub.

“Too hot…” Somehow he still felt warm. His complexion blushed to the point of redness, a tingling starting from the top of his scalp all the way to his thighs.

With chattering teeth and shuddering shoulders, he shut his eyes tightly and slowly allowed his torso to slip through the porcelain, the water covering his head completely as he submerged, letting the physical ache transport itself to a sentimental one.

There was this irrational part of him that believed this moment to be his downfall. That believed that a life such as this, without being capable to help or be helped, wasn’t worth living.

In the raze of his fever, Steve opened his eyes from underwater, a feminine outline appearing from the surface and looking right down at him. Though unrecognizable in the blurriness, the image stirred up a buzz inside of him, his senses flashing in alarm. A weird feeling of recollection spread in his mind, the color radiating from the stranger’s irises creating a different kind of warmth within.

The more he stared the better he felt. Lighter, almost. As if floating on a cloud. All of the soreness leaving his being at once. The corner of his lips lifting a bit as darkness began to engulf the view.

“Steve!” The calling of his name in a familiar voice startled him. Reaching hands grabbing his arms and pulling, bringing the barely awake man to the surface.

He gasped for air as it filled his lungs way too quickly, leaving a burning sensation. Droplets of water trickled from his hair, dripping through his face and neck.

“Goddammit, Steve! What were you thinking?” Small fingers lingered at his biceps, wobbly sustaining his weight as he was guided off the bathtub. “I called a thousand times. Bucky said it was best to leave you alone, but I knew there was something wrong.”

The light greenish irises of Natasha’s eyes greeted him finally, and he tensed in her arms as she struggled to take him back to his bed. The embarrassment consuming his thoughts while he tried his best to hide his nudity.

“You’re not supposed to be here. I don’t want anyone here.” His voice faltered, the words tripping over one another.

“I can see that. It sure would be much more easy for you to kill yourself without my interference.” The redhead run up to his wardrobe, grabbing a big towel and proceeding to wrap him up around the broad shoulders with it.

“I wasn’t trying to… I just wanted to see something.” She wouldn’t have been able to hear him hadn’t she been so near, rubbing his arms repeatedly in a vertical motion.

“See what, Steve? What are you talking about?” Her hand grazed his chest for only one second, but she noticed the hairs in that area raising when he shivered due to the touch. “How can you be this warm still?”

In comparison to her hand, his skin felt like a scalding flame. Paying closer attention to it now, she saw how blushed it looked. The muscles tight, a sheen of sweat starting to blend in with the particles of what was left behind from the frosty cold water.

“I’m…” Natasha heard him mutter as his blue eyes drifted from her face and became empty and unfocused, as if he couldn’t see her anymore or chose not to acknowledge her presence.

Her focus was drawn to his waist line, a peculiar movement calling her eye. The length of his cock pulsated as it expanded, the balls contracting whilst beads of weeping fluid oozed out of the tip and slid across the smooth skin that enveloped the head.

She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth as she examined his situation. It looked like it hurt. He was in pain.

“Hot… Too hot. I need…” Steve decided to remove the towel from his body in a rush, throwing it as far away from him as he could muster the strength to.

Trembling red lips whined when he tried to create some space between himself and his ginger friend, her body providing too much heat and making it unbearable for him to remain by her side.

“Please, Nat. Let me just…” Her nails had planted themselves in his shoulders, digging strongly to stop his fleeing. “I really need…”

“I know what you need, Steve. Calm down.” She knelt in front of his sitting figure, holding him upright with two hands due to his jelly like posture. “Look at me.” Her voice turned assertive in a way he hadn’t heard up to that point.

He fixated his attention back to the russian spy. Her touch was firm when she balanced herself on her knees, hands spread out on each of his naked thighs.

“No, please, I don’t feel so good.” She silenced his protests, shaking her head no to his attempts at getting up.

“Bruce explained what’s happening, remember? You need a compatible match to help you through your rut, Steve.” The blonde gasped at her words, dick twitching in the air.

“An omega.” He murmured more to himself then to her, head bobbing side to side from the exhaustion settling over him because of what felt like a pointless interaction.

The mere idea of having an omega to tend to his needs causing his hips to move on their own accord, trusting forwards and brushing the inside of her arm with his erect member. A grunt came from deep within him, a distinct pressure building in his chest.

“I need to find an omega.” He chanted.

“What you need is to cum, sweetheart.” Natasha’s expression was one of confidence when she held his cock securely using both hands.

The cold feeling of her palms against the vulnerably delicate piece of flesh send his instincts into a riot, a vibration starting inside of him.

“No.” He whispered in between puffs and huffs, inaudible in such small volume.

“And I can help you with that.” She continued, mistaking the sounds he was forming by ones of ecstasy. “There’s nothing an omega can give you that I can’t, Steve. Every since we met there was this connection between the two of us. You’ve made me open up in ways I never thought I would, because we understand each other.”

Steve stared down at her, motionless as she began to move her hands across his shaft. An odd admiration on her eyes as she focused at the task in front of her, the member pointing to the ceiling as a rumble left the alpha’s gritted teeth, his angelic colored irises darkening in a sinister fashion.

“And I know you feel the same.” Without thinking twice, Natasha went in open mouthed in the cock’s direction, moving with purpose.

But before her lips could graze the leaking tip, Steve’s hands were in the back of her head, fingers intertwining with the fiery locks and pulling drastically.

“No!” He but roared, gaining an unexpected strength.

Getting up from the bed in a brutal maneuver, the grab in Natasha’s hair intensified as he brought her up with him.

“What the hell are you doing?” She demanded, forcing him out of her with difficulty.

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice was loud and clear now, imposing even.

His chest was puffed out and lips sneering, showing a bit of teeth. A glimpse of a fang appearing in the raze of the feral atmosphere, but disappearing seconds after.

“What’s wrong?” Her frown softened when she realized his state, reaching in to touch his face but being stopped dead in her tracks by the growling sound he emitted.

“You. You smell wrong.” Each of his words were perfectly enunciated, leaving no room for Natasha to be misled.

Scanning his appearance now, she realized how weak he actually looked. Sickly, in fact. Going slowly mad from the rut fever melting his rational mind.

And even though it would hurt for her to see him with anyone else besides her, especially now that she so abruptly confessed her feelings for him; it would hurt even more to see him suffering and eventually dying from this condition.

So she knew that from that moment on, it was her task to save him, even if it meant going to the ends of earth to find a fucking omega for him to spend his rut with.

Author’s end notes: I'm still not sure if I want Bucky to get involved with the reader or not, either in a romantic level or just a physical one. Because, clearly, Natasha is going to be a part of the reader's relationship with Steve. Just don't know if I want Bucky to be as well. Let me know what you guys think, please! (Taking to consideration that neither Steve or Bucky are going to be dark on this one).

Chapter 3

[lossknown]

𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏:   multiple  places  in  /  surrounding  tera. 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐:   closed,  self - para. 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄:   gracie’s  death.

          sude  fills  his  lungs  almost  as  easily  as  a  scream  rips  through  the  air  while  he’s  lounging  by  the  watering  hole.   this  wasn’t  a  rare  occasion  —  sneaking  out  past  curfew  with  his  friends  to  get  high  away  from  the  bustling  atmosphere  of  tera.   the  group  of  five  spent  a  countless  number  of  nights  out  with  each  other,  each  one  as  happy  as  the  next  to  be  able  to  escape,  if  only  for  a  few  hours.   their  nights  out  worked  like  clockwork  most  times.   lukas,  bazz,  and  kyra  would  get  high  by  the  water,  gracie  and  vince  would  wander  off  to  make  friends  with  the  creatures  of  the  night  (  most  were  harmless  little  things  ).   on  this  night,  though,  there  was  nothing  insinuating  harmlessness  in  the  way  the  shriek  pierced  his  ears.  there  was  a  brief  moment  of  exchanged  looks  between  the  trio,  but  then  lukas  was  running.   he  wasn’t  sure  where  his  legs  were  taking  him,  but  it  was  a  miracle  he  hadn’t  tripped  over  anything  on  his  way  to  the  source  of  the  sound.   a  branch  is  snapped  as  he  runs  through  it,  the  bush  revealing  a  panicked  vince  kneeling  over  gracie  —  shirt  stained  red,  puncture  in  her  side,  tears  streaming  down  her  face.     “   what  the  fuck  happened  ?   “     frozen,  shocked,  and  unable  to  process  the  situation,  lukas  felt  panic  build  beneath  his  chest.     “   vince,  what  the  fuck  happened  ?   “     the  repeated  question  is  accompanied  by  his  hand  yanking  the  other  male’s  body  back  to  force  him  to  snap  back  into  reality.   it  didn’t  work  because  he  didn’t  get  a  response.     “   gra—  gracie.   “     a  hushed  plea  of  a  response  fell  from  his  lips  as  he  knelt  beside  the  girl,  one  hand  instantly  moving  to  inspect  the  wounded  area.

          gracie,  unlike  most  things  in  his  life,  had  been  consistent.   she  was  there  when  he  stepped  foot  into  tera,  she  was  there  every  morning  from  then  on.   the  two  were  practically  attached  at  the  hip.  if  someone  didn’t  know  better,  they  could  come  off  as  two  kids  in  puppy  love,  but  nothing  romantic  ever  happened  between  them.   on  any  given  day,  you’d  find  gracie  hanging  off  of  lukas’  back,  barking  orders  in  his  ear  and  he  obeyed  every  single  one.   out  of  the  five  of  them,  those  two  were  the  closest.   in  fact,  there  was  rarely  a  night  that  went  by  when  one  wasn’t  staying  at  the  other’s  place.   it  was  mostly  due  to  how  late  they  stayed  out.  they  were  just  too  tired  to  split  up.  their  friendship  was  different  than  all  his  other  ones.

          “   we  gotta  get  her  to  the  infirmary.   “     it  wasn’t  a  suggestion  so  much  as  it  was  a  demand.  careful  not  to  disturb  the  injured  area  too  much,  lukas  stepped  over  gracie  to  make  an  attempt  at  picking  her  up.  the  groans  and  whines  of  pain  made  him  hesitate,  but  they  couldn’t  leave  her  there.     “   no...  no  infirmary.   “     the  next  demand  came  from  the  blonde  in  his  arms,  a  single  hand  just  barely  reaching  up  to  pull  at  lukas’  shirt.   one  look  in  those  hazel  hues  and  lukas  couldn’t  pull  himself  to  disagree  with  her,  but  he  knew  she  wouldn’t  live  without  some  kind  of  medicine.  defeat  riddled  already  tired  features,  a  nod  soon  following  her  words.  he  wasn’t  about  to  start  an  argument.     “   bazz,  take  her  to  my  place.  i’m  gonna  go  get  stuff.   “     the  handoff  was  messy  and  probably  uncomfortable  for  gracie.  it  physically  pained  lukas  to  see  her  in  such  a  helpless  state.     “   they’re  gonna  see  us  if  we  go  ba—   “     bazz  started,  but  the  look  on  lukas’   face  was  enough  for  him  to  dismiss  his  last  hesitations.  he’d  do  what  he  had  to.     “   i’ll  be  back,  okay  ?  do  not  let  her  die.  i  swear  to  god...  i’m  gonna  take  twenty  minutes,  max.   “     there  was  one  last  look  at  gracie,  one  last  glance  at  the  wound,  and  then  lukas  was  off.

          in  all  honesty,  he  wasn’t  sure  how  he  ended  up  back  within  the  walls  of  tera.  sneaking  out  had  happened  so  many  times  that  he  had  a  route  memorized  like  the  back  of  his  hand.  it’s  not  even  that  they  were  really  out  when  the  gates  were  closed.  they  did  cut  it  pretty  close,  though,  and  the  sentinels  knew  that.  before  he  knew  it,  lukas  was  approaching  the  infirmary  —  one  of  the  many  places  he  generally  wasn’t  allowed  to  be  simply  because  he  was  a  nuisance.  still,  that  didn’t  stop  him  from  swiping  an  access  card  from  one  of  the  doctors  leaving  as  he  was  going  in.  it  gave  him  easy  access  to  places  he  needed  to  be  in  order  to  get  some  supplies.  careful  to  avoid  the  sight  of  guards,  lukas  remained  calm  as  he  maneuvered  through  the  halls.  and  when  he  found  the  room  he  was  looking  for,  one  final  glance  down  the  nearly  empty  hall  gave  him  a  clear  coast  to  slip  inside.

          it  wasn’t  until  his  hands  were  grazing  the  shelves  that  he  noticed  the  blood  on  his  fingers,  the  trembling  of  usually  still  limbs.  it  made  him  hesitate,  if  only  momentarily,  before  grabbing  a  few  different  vials,  along  with  other  meds  that  he  knew  might  have  a  chance  at  working.  in  all  honesty,  he  wasn’t  sure  what  attacked  gracie,  how  her  side  got  punctured  the  way  it  did.  he  had  no  idea  what    he  was ��dealing  with.  and  once  he’d  finished  tucking  the  items  in  his  pocket,  he  left  the  room.  while  looking  over  his  shoulder,  he  nearly  ran  into  a  body  that  was  waiting  right  in  front  of  him  near  the  end  of  the  hall.  looking  down  at  the  other  male,  lukas  just  removed  his  hands  from  his  pockets  and  tried  to  brush  by  him  with  a  nearly  inaudible  apology.  that’s  when  he  felt  the  other’s  hand  press  against  his  chest  to  stop  him  from  continuing,  eyes  glancing  down  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  name  ‘  preston  ‘  plastered  on  the  uniform.     “   you’re  not  supposed  to  be  back  here.   “   oliver  observed,  but  it  was  something  they  both  already  knew.  and  lukas  really  didn’t  have  time  to  be  dealing  with  a  sentinel  right  now.     “   i  was  looking  for  my  mom,  but  she’s  not  here.   “     a  lie  that  was  almost  too  easy  to  tell  slipped  through  the  younger  male’s  lips  as  he  kept  his  demeanor  calm.  his  gaze  met  oliver’s  briefly,  but  they  both  knew  lukas  was  full  of  it.   a  pause  that  felt  like  forever  was  taken,  but  then  the  silence  was  broken  by  oliver  once  more.     “   empty  your  pockets.   “

          man,  if  looks  could  kill,  lukas  might  as  well  have  been  medusa  in  that  moment.     “   i  don’t  know  what  you’re  talking  about.   “     lukas  responded,  not  an  ounce  of  his  tone  faltering  as  he  took  a  step  back  to  show  he  wasn’t  in  a  rush.  but  he  was  —    gracie  was  dying  for  all  he  knew.  and  oliver  wasn’t  buying  his  story.  then  the  sentinel  was  one  step  closer,  speaking  at  a  much  lower  volume  than  before.     “   now.   “     and  lukas  wasn’t  really  in  much  of  a  place  to  be  fighting  back.  a  cold  glare  is  what  he  got  in  return,  jaw  tightening  as  lukas  refused  to  move.  the  only  thing  that  made  him  give  in  was  the  fact  that  attention  was  being  drawn  to  them.  he  could  see  a  nurse’s  head  turn  in  his  peripheral,  to  which  his  chin  dipped  slightly,  but  he  didn’t  let  up.     “   please,  just...   “     lukas  started,  but  it  appeared  oliver  wasn’t  having  any  of  it.     “   just  what  ?   “     his  head  was  pounding,  different  scenarios  reeling  in  his  mind  as  the  male  tried  to  figure  out  his  options.  after  a  quick  glance  at  the  clock,  he  decided  he  needed  to  go.  and  that’s  what  he  did.

          lukas  took  a  few  steps  back  before  turning  around  and  running  towards  the  other  end  of  the  hall.  the  hands  that  trembled  before  were  the  same  ones  that  crashed  through  the  door  before  the  rest  of  his  body,  feet  carrying  him  down  the  stairs  and  out  another  door  on  the  lower  level  before  he  was  looking  for  the  fastest  exit.   he  seemed  to  be  in  the  clear  until  he  collided  with  a  nurse  who  wasn’t  paying  attention.   neither  of  them  fell,  but  it  was  enough  to  make  him  mutter  a  string  of  apologies.   the  look  on  her  face  was  enough  for  him  to  realize  that  she  knew  he  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  there.   he’d  lost  track  of  time,  so  much  so  that  he  only  stopped  rambling  when  someone  else  grabbed  his  arm,  but  before  he  knew  it,  he  was  being  shoved  into  one  of  the  empty  rooms  with  the  door  slamming  shut  behind  them.     “   hey,  man.   what  the  fuck  ?   ”     lukas  nearly  spat,  venom  threatening  to  surface  as  he  finally  put  together  just  who  was  standing  in  front  of  him :  oliver  fucking  preston.   jaw  tightened,  one  step  taken  back  as  he  tried  to  think  of  a  way  to  get  himself  out  of  this  one.   his  options  were  limited.   preston  went  on  a  spew  about  how  much  trouble  lukas  could  be  in,  about  how  he  was  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  entire  infirmary,  about  how  his  recklessness  was  going  to  get  people  upset.     “   i’m  not  asking  again.   empty  your  pockets.   ”     the  male  stated  calmly,  palm  extended  towards  lukas  as  the  youngest  wayne  just  let  his  gaze  lock  onto  oliver’s.   if  he  gave  anything  up,  gracie  would  die.

          “   if  you  don’t  let  me  leave,  grace  duval  is  gonna  die,  okay  ?   it’s  your  job  to  protect  people,  isn’t  it  ?   if  you  let  me  go,  i  can  save  her.   ”     he’d  lied  enough  times  for  the  sentinels  to  take  everything  he  said  with  a  grain  of  salt.   it  looked  like  oliver  was  the  same,  because  his  demeanor  hadn’t  shifted,  he  hadn’t  moved  –––  just  waited.     “   oliver,  please.   i’m  not  feeding  you  bullshit.   she’s  dying.   ”     for  all  he  knew  she  could  be  dead  by  then.   he  was  already  five  minutes  late,  already  past  the  time  he’d  promised  he’d  get  back  in.     “   then  why  didn’t  you  bring  her  here  ?   ”     the  question  made  him  sick.   it  was  one  he  knew  he  couldn’t  answer  without  getting  himself  and  his  friends  in  trouble.   his  moment  of  hesitation  was  enough  of  an  answer  for  oliver,  because  lukas  found  himself  being  slammed  back  against  the  cabinet  behind  him.   a  grunt  fell  from  his  lips  has  oliver’s  hand  retrieved  the  medical  supplies  from  both  of  his  pockets.   the  sentinel  took  a  moment  to  inspect  what  he’d  taken,  a  quick  analysis  of  what  could  have  possibly  been  going  on.     “   don’t  let  me  catch  you  in  here  again.   ”     the  words  fell  from  the  other’s  mouth  with  ease  as  he  began  departing,  leaving  lukas  just  as  empty - handed  as  he  was  when  he’d  first  arrived.

          he  had  no  other  choice :  he  had  to  go  back.   so  he  left  the  infirmary,  anger  boiling  his  blood  as  he  broke  into  a  sprint  to  get  back  to  his  place.   it  didn’t  take  more  than  a  few  more  minutes  for  him  to  arrive,  hands  shoving  the  front  door  open  to  find  gracie  on  the  couch  with  their  friends  surrounding  her.   she  wasn’t  awake,  but  she  was  breathing.   the  sight  made  him  freeze  and  he  stayed  that  way  until  vince  nearly  dragged  him  to  the  kitchen,  questioning  him  about  if  he  got  what  they  needed,  about  what  took  him  so  long.   lukas  didn’t  answer,  just  kept  his  gaze  on  the  ground  for  a  moment  before  he  finally  looked  up  at  the  other  male.     “   preston  took  all  the  fuckin’  meds  i  had.   i  got  nothing.   ”     before  he  could  face  any  backlash,  lukas  pushed  past  vince  and  made  his  way  back  to  gracie’s  side,  taking  a  seat  on  the  ground  beside  the  couch  as  kyra  joined  him.   with  how  calm  lukas  was  and  how  he  hadn’t  whipped  out  whatever  medical  supplies  they  expected  him  to  return  with,  everybody  knew  he  came  back  with  nothing.   thank  god  nobody  else  blew  up  at  him  for  it.   he  took  a  moment  to  observe  the  blonde’s  exterior  for  a  moment :  discomfort  permanent  on  usually  light  features,  shaky  breathing  here  and  there,  a  decent  bandage  plastered  over  the  wound,  and  blood  staining  both  her  clothes  and  his  furniture.   one  hand  lifted  slowly,  wrapping  around  gracie’s  carefully.   her  body’s  reaction  was  to  flinch,  but  it  made  her  eyes  open  slowly.     “   hey,  luke.   ”     the  nickname  just  barely  made  it  beyond  her  lips  before  she  was  coughing,  something  violent  that  made  his  body  tense.   still,  he  forced  a  smile  and  let  his  thumb  graze  the  back  of  her  hand  to  show  that  he  was  still  there.   from  how  devastated  everyone  looked,  from  the  lack  of  movement  in  the  room,  even  gracie  could  tell  lukas  didn’t  get  what  he  said  he  would.   of  course,  she  knew  him  well  enough  to  know  that  he  tried.     “   i’m  sorry.   ”     the  male  murmured,  an  uncomfortable  heaviness  pressing  down  on  his  chest  as  he  tried  not  to  break.   he  was  the  strong  one  in  their  group  if  gracie  couldn’t  be.     “   i’m  so  sorry.   ”     lukas  repeated,  head  dipping  to  shield  her  from  the  view  of  tears  brimming.   he  rarely  cried  and  certainly  wouldn’t  let  other  people  see  him  cry.   still,  kyra  pressed  her  head  against  his  shoulder  in  an  attempt  at  comfort  and  gracie  had  failed  to  show  even  an  ounce  of  disappointment.   instead,  she  just  squeezed  his  hand  gently  and  offered  a  smile,  something  weak  but  not  quite  forced.

          another  moment  passed  before  he  finally  looked  back  up  at  gracie.   the  only  thing  that  made  him  do  so  was  the  release  of  pressure  from  her  grip,  panic  churning  somewhere  deep  in  his  ribs.     “   gracie  ?   ”   her  eyes  were  closed,  the  wincing  stopped,  and  her  chest  seemed  to  remain  still  with  each  second  he  watched  it.   his  hand  squeezed  hers  now,  but  it  felt  different  ––  felt  more  limp  than  before.     “   hey.   ”     lukas  murmured,  eyebrows  furrowing  as  he  sat  up  more  and  reached  out  to  shake  her  shoulder  only  gently.   no  response.   the  head  on  his  shoulder  was  now  buried  in  vince’s  shoulder,  kyra’s  sobbing  only  causing  a  chain  reaction  within  the  group  as  the  realization  of  what  was  happening  hit  hard.   lukas,  himself,  even  found  himself  nearly  choking  back  a  sob.     “   gracie.   fuck,  grace.   hey,  c’mon.   ”     his  efforts�� at  waking  her  up  were  useless.   it  wasn’t  until  there  was  another  hand  on  his  shoulder  that  lukas  fell  apart.   his  head  dropped,  forehead  pressed  against  gracie’s  shoulder  as  he  cried.   uncontrollable,  staggered,  and  silenced  sobs  echoed  within  the  walls  of  the  room.   the  amount  of  times  apologies  fell  from  his  mouth  couldn’t  be  counted  on  just  two  hands  as  the  three  others  moved  to  wrap  themselves  in  one  big  hug.   they  didn’t  pull  him  away  from  gracie,  didn’t  say  anything  as  they  just  comforted  each  other.   grief  could  sneak  up  on  people,  but  not  them.   it  hit  harder  than  anything  lukas  had  ever  experienced  before,  making  him  feel  completely  useless  and  weak  as  he  cried.   and  they  stayed  like  that  for  hours,  crying  over  gracie’s  lifeless  body  on  his  couch,  crying  over  the  loss  of  such  an  important  person  in  all  of  their  lives.   and  lukas  thought  he’d  never  feel  fully  happy  again,  never  feel  complete  without  his  best  friend.   and  he  was  right.

[jaqdawks]

added a short story bellow :)

content warnings: alcohol and implied nsfw acts, also mention of death.

—————————————

Nickolai awoke in someone else’s bed with a splitting hangover. He sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room. He checked if it was possibly Alcor’s, until he realized he didn’t know what Alcor’s bedroom looked like at all. He also didn’t know what most of Alcor’s flat looked like; he’d only ever been as far in as a single hallway.

For a few minutes, Nickolai fought the hangover to remember who he was with and what identity he’d assumed. All he could remember was Noah. He had a fake ID that said Noah, and his false identity as a Noah was a man who fixed computers. Noah was a common name though, and he couldn’t remember who the Noah here was.

He didn’t think about it much longer before he succumbed to the hangover and flopped back onto the bed—which Nickolai was alone in. The disturbed sheets on the spot next to him hinted to someone else having been in it earlier.

The door began to creak open, and Nickolai shut his eyes.

“Hey, it’s almost noon. I don’t want to be rude but you need to wake up,” sounded an unfamiliar voice.

Nickolai grumbled a little. He looked at the stranger, who had soft green eyes and curly red hair. He didn’t look untrustworthy, to Nickolai’s relief. Then again, Nickolai didn’t look untrustworthy either on a normal day.

“I have Advil if you need something for a hangover,” the stranger offered.

Nickolai sat up again, for real now. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

The stranger laughed. “I’m Joel. Were you too hammered to remember my name?”

Nickolai shook his head.

The stranger seemed concerned. “How much do you remember then?”

“I don’t know, I remember thinking I should get mad drunk in public instead of passing out on my couch. After that it’s just fuzzy.” Nickolai assumed he told Joel that his name was Noah.

Joel looked a little perturbed in an endearing way. “Ah, well, do you want me to fill the gaps or. . ?”

“Can I get some Advil first?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get some water for you to swallow it with,” Joel complied. “You should get dressed.”

Nickolai waited for Joel to leave before getting out of bed and tracking down all his clothes, which were strewn about the room. His shirt smelled like liquor to the point that Nickolai thought he might gag. However, he didn’t have any spare clothes and decided to just put up with it.

Joel was back a few minutes after Nickolai got dressed. It was clear he was trying to ignore the smell, but after Nickolai took the Advil, Joel asked if he needed to borrow something that didn’t smell so rancid. Nickolai obliged and was relieved to be able to rid the putrid button-down.

“Okay, so the parts you don’t remember,” Joel began. “I can’t say I remember it too well either, but I think I have a decent memory with these things.”

Nickolai nodded. “Go on.”

“So,” Joel continued. “It began when I think I saw the bartender cut you off on drinks, and I felt kind of bad about that. So I thought, hey, company’s much better than drinks, even though I was also drinking, like a lot. And I guess at some point we kinda started flirting, and I was like ‘should we take this back to your place?’ and you began to freak out. I think you said you have a dog that bites people or something? Is that true?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Well anyways, you did not seem to be very happy with the idea of taking anyone to your place, so I took you to mine. And you can probably guess the rest, considering you woke up naked in my bed.”

Nickolai silently acknowledged the implications in his head. This wasn’t how he planned to start his weekend, but he could roll with it. “Yeah. Sorry for sleeping until noon, by the way. I’m not at all a morning person.”

Joel smiled with amusement. “How do you pull that off? I can’t even sleep past nine on a good day.”

“Sadness.”

Joel’s face went blank with a bit of underlying surprise at Nickolai’s off hand answer. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, no harm no foul.” Nickolai was vehemently aware that he may have used that saying incorrectly.

Joel veered the conversation away from the topic. “How does your head feel?”

“A little better.”

Joel was oddly kind. Nickolai wasn’t used to receiving this hospitality from strangers like him, but that probably had more to do with who Nickolai associated himself with and not people in general. Nickolai decided he liked Joel, even if he barely knew him.

“I would offer you some breakfast, but. . . it’s almost one in the afternoon. You’re probably hungry though, right?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Nickolai attempted to smile back at Joel but he was too tired to count off what would make it look genuine. Regardless, Joel didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m gonna do it anyway,” Joel decided. “Any allergies?”

“Strawberries.”

“Oh! That’s a rare one.”

Nickolai shrugged. “I seem to cash in on the rare things a lot. Albinism, an extra rib, and the strawberry allergy.”

“Casinos must hate you if you’re that lucky.”

Nickolai let out a genuine laugh. He decided he definitely liked Joel. He also felt a tinge of astonishment that someone like Joel casually hooked up with him, or generally anyone. He seemed like too much of an angel to even drink.

Nickolai followed Joel out of his room. Joel’s place was considerably nice, to the point Nickolai was in a bit of disbelief. He couldn’t have wound up in an upper class area if he had started last night at a shoddy bar, right? Joel didn’t act like he was rich, he didn’t seem like it either. But this place completely contrasted whatever Joel was like. Even Joel’s cat, a rather well groomed Norwegian forest cat—which was massive and somewhat intimidating—seemed to completely outclass Nickolai.

“Do you live here by yourself?” Nickolai asked as he surveyed the expensive wallpaper lining the kitchen walls.

“Nah, I have a housemate named Anwyll. He’s visiting family right now though.”

Nickolai froze. “Anwyll. . . As in Anwyll Tait?”

“That’s the one!”

Nickolai suddenly felt sick. “Oh fuck.”

“Is something wrong?”

Nickolai retched. Had his stomach not been empty, he had no doubt he would have thrown up all over the nice counter top.

Joel dropped what he was doing and crossed the room to Nickolai. “Are you okay?” He was suddenly at Nickolai’s side with his hand placed gently on Nickolai’s back.

Nickolai’s head spun. He knew he couldn’t tell Joel that Anwyll Tait took his brother’s life in the deathmatches. If he did, Joel would have a catalogue of every possible person Nickolai could truly be, and it would clearly point to Yuskol Voskoboinikov.

Nickolai ran through every excuse he could think up. He could say he hated the rich, but that could offend Joel. He could say the deathmatches made him sick, but Joel was obviously linked to them somehow if he was in league with a Tait. Joel felt like dangerous company, a double edged sword.

“Noah?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nickolai croaked. “I think it’s just the hangover. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, so I guess I don’t have anything to throw up.”

That was the safest excuse.

Joel looked at Nickolai with pity. “Do you think you can eat right now?”

“Yeah.”

Nickolai felt somewhat content that he had definite confirmation that he had told Joel his name was Noah last night. The slight accent in his voice may throw off the authenticity in his identity as Noah Martin, but it wasn’t consistent enough to jeopardize him.

At the same time, the fact that he slept with someone of such high class alarmed him. Most public record photos of Nickolai Voskoboinikov’s face was outdated or somewhat photoshopped, but a Tait might be able to figure him out if they surveyed him for long enough.

“So, what’s your housemate like?” Nickolai asked. He tried to keep the nervousness from spreading to his voice.

“Anwyll can be such a jerk sometimes, but he’s also sorta nice. I’ve known him since I was little,” Joel said. “He doesn’t like new people that much, but I think he’d like you.”

“Dunno. I can be very unlikeable when I’m on my medication.” Nickolai knew with certainty that Anwyll would hate him no matter what. “Also I’m. . . lower class.” Nickolai also knew that Anwyll was a classist asshole.

“Lower class? That doesn’t matter,” Joel piped up. “The whole class thing is kind of stupid. I think the way it’s set up is interesting, but it won’t stop me from having friends from all kinds of walks of life.”

“I. . . yeah. I guess so,” Nickolai mumbled. He doubted Joel would be this positive if he knew of Nickolai’s illegal trades ties, the upper class notoriously hated brokers like him. They also especially hated him in particular.

Being there felt like the most dangerous stunt Nickolai had pulled, and he hadn’t even done it on purpose.

Joel set a ridiculously fancy, yet somehow definitely homemade, grilled cheese sandwich on a plate in front of him.

“Wow,” Nickolai mused. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. “This looks like something an expensive ass chef would make.”

“Thanks! I went to the top culinary school in the city, my parents say it was a waste of time.”

“Fuck what your parents say,” Nickolai replied before he took a bite. The sandwich tasted unreal. The last time he had food as good as this was when he posed as an intern for one of the deathmatch organizers.

“I’m glad you like it,” Joel smiled. Nickolai felt unease crawl back into his chest. Joel seemed so genuinely friendly, though a nagging suspicion told Nickolai it could be a lie. Nickolai couldn’t take a risk by being near him for much longer. At the same time, however, he felt captivated. Joel had that charisma that so many of the notorious upper class families seemed to unanimously mirror. He was a golden face among a sea of golden faces, all rotten under their skin. Nickolai knew what they were like.

Even then, Joel seemed to care a lot more than most would let on.

Nickolai took a deep breath. “I have to go home, sorry. I left my meds there, and I probably have people flooding my inbox about work and all that bullshit.”

“That’s alright. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your job?”

“I fix computers,” Nickolai lied. That was Noah’s persona, and a story that should hold up if Joel decided to try and look in to it.

To be polite, he exchanged phone numbers. Nickolai only had his burner phone on him, which was a relief. The calls and texts that flooded Nickolai’s personal phone daily would have definitely been suspicious.

Nickolai liked Joel, but he knew he wouldn’t call him. Nickolai had a hunch that Joel may not be the worst of his kind, but he knew he wouldn’t text him back. It felt harsh to shut Joel out like this, but Nickolai wasn’t going to risk identification simply because he had a good encounter. They waved goodbye, and Joel’s cheery expression was a reminder that Nickolai would have to be silently cruel.

Nickolai didn’t call for a cab, he walked until his hangover began to bother him again. Then he called Alcor—Alcor didn’t have Nickolai’s burner phone address, but he was a safer bet than any cabs in this place.

The phone rang for a while before Alcor picked up.

“Who’s this?”

Nickolai felt relief wash over him to hear a familiar voice. “It’s Nick. Can you come pick me up?”

Alcor’s words were laced with suspicion as he spoke over the phone. “. . . Sure. Where are you?”

Nickolai looked at the street sign. Of course he had to stop on Ivory Street—the richest and most notorious, and also the one Nickolai hated the most for almost no real reason. With a sigh, he said, “Ivory Street.”

“How the fuck did you get there?”

“Drunkenly and against my conscious knowing.”

“Is this going to be dangerous?”

Nickolai groaned. “Not as dangerous as standing in the house that belongs to the man who killed my brother. Now get over here, I don’t think it’d be safe to use public transport in this area.”

There was a silence on the other end, then Alcor replied, “I’m on my way.”

[violetfeathers]

Heat (Hawks X F!Reader)

I have never posted anything on tumbler before so let’s just leave this here and hope other’s enjoy my bullshit trash mind too.

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Words: 7.7k+

Genre: smut, some story build fluff smut at least? rut/heat

Rating: Explicit, 18+, NSFW

Warnings: breeding, submissive, choking, some blood at the beginning, some fluff

*Unedited

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

Blood erupted from your lips as you coughed, the coppery taste making you cringe and want to heave again as you absorbed the injury of the civilian in front of you.

The small hole in your abdomen slowly started to close, the man staring at you in awe as you had to pull down your black lower face mask to expel your own blood though you appeared as if you weren't worried in the slightest.

Never said my quirk was pretty.

You happened to be in the area during an explosion of a nearby factory and thankfully there wasn't many people injured, which made it easier to take on the responsibility of most serious wounds like the pipe that went through a man's side and the chunk of another's leg that was seared off.

Your quirk was super regenerative and gave you the ability to take on the injuries of others to heal at a rapid rate. Obviously you couldn't bring someone back from the dead or replace entire arms or legs, but you could repairs holes in organs or mass injury depending on what you yourself could survive.

The down fall was experiencing most of the pain of whatever you absorbed, making you weaker and more unsteady depending on the situation until you ultimately passed out. A super powerful quirk yet you wanted to just help people like a normal everyday hero while also volunteering at hospitals rather than boast since newly moving to Hosu city.

You were usually too busy with cases and trips around the area for interviews or coverage, so you remained a small rising pro hero who was only twenty that the public was still learning about and mostly unaware of.

Your eyes kept on a friendly tinge despite the crimson liquid that coated your lips, tone breathy as you inquired about the man you front of you. "You okay, sir? Any other injuries?"

He shook his head in silence, barely able to comprehend how you were still upright. You nodded, standing and helping him to his feet as well. "There is an ambulance over there, make sure to talk to them and the officers just in case. Have a good day and be safe!"

You were gone before he could say another word, your hooked chain wrapping around a broken piece of wall and dragging yourself up to where you heard panicked voices getting closer the further your swung and jumped up with a small wince.

You were greeted with the sight of an older man, his entire stomach coated in blood as he laid next to a familiar red winged pro hero who was trying to calm the death fearing male down with a calming smile.

Holy shit that's Hawks

You couldn’t let yourself be starstruck as you heard the famous pro talking to the man, his tone friendly and upbeat to try to keep the man’s focus.

"We'll get you out, you just gotta trust me." Hawks assured, the remnants of his feathers twitching slightly as he eyed the amount of blood with worry. He wanted to lift the man out, but had already used a lot of his feathers to get out other victims around the fires of the explosion.

His eyes glanced over to see a smaller woman that looked unfamiliar, your hero suit just black with dark grey accents that clung to your form with pouches and a long chain wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes trailed over to man as you neared, your voice soft but urgent as you began to formulate how this would go. "What are his injuries?"

Hawks blinked, surprised by the woman who was talking at him like he wasn't one of the top pro heroes and immediately taking charge of the situation the moment you entered.

"He.. He had a large pipe in his stomach-"

"Anything else other than this large injury?"

Hawks feathers ruffled as you cut him off, but watched as you peeled back the crimson soaked shirt of the man in front of him to look at the size of the wound.

"Burns and scrapes." Came his curt reply, his eyes narrowing on you as you pressed your hands into the civilian's before a beautiful smile made it’s way to your already bloodied lips. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, your scent finally wafting over to him and curling around him in a sweet embrace.

You were too busy wracking your brain with your own state as you smiled at the man below you, knowing that he wouldn't make it to hospital in time. "You're gonna be just fine sir, you gotta trust a hero's word after all. Especially the number two's." Your kind gaze then darted up to the popular hero's surprised one, your smile turning into something more bashful but informative.

"When I'm done, you can leave me and get him out. All I ask is that you come back for me, I'm just gonna need my own help out of here though. Sorry for the bother that this is gonna be!"

Before Hawks could even question what you were even talking about, your joined hands glowed a bright gold just like your irises while the wound on the man's stomach began to illuminate as well before the glowing was cut off, the man gasping at the instant release of his pain.

The bird pro was in shock, his eyes feeling like they deceived him until he heard a cough come from the mystery hero. Blood poured from your lips, your eyes squeezed shut as you curled an arm around your stomach with your black hero suit darkening as the newly formed hole in your stomach gushed out dark red liquid.

Hawks instantly was at your side, his hand resting on your upper back with frantic look to his golden orbs.

"What are yo-"

"T-the man, Hawks. Please."

The winged hero swore under his breath, a feather hastily hooking into the back of the man's shirt and carrying him off without hesitation much to your surprise.

You coughed again with blood splattering out onto the concrete below, your eyesight blurry as your words came out croaked and raspy sounding. "I'll b-be fine. Quirk's healing-" You could barely get out the explanation before your vision started to fade, your words sounding more far away by the second.

Hawks scooped you up into his arms, his feathers returning to him as much as he could that weren't damaged to help form steps that let him jump down from the high up broken floor they were on. "Hey, stay with me, dove. Your quirk is healing, yeah? So, you're gonna be fine right?"

His words had a twinge of worry to them despite his lighter tone, catching the twitch of your lips as a shaky smirk made it's way to your face. "Y-yeah, I'll be- fuck. F-fine. Regenerative p-power. Call my agency."

Hawks felt himself relax but only slightly, his feet landing on the ground as he let out a deep breath. "Alright, what agency are you under?"

He was met by silence, his golden eyes darting down to see your face slack as you passed out in his hold and let a groan slip from his lips.

"Well shit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that was how you met Hawks.

He thankfully was able to use his own connections at as his agency to find out that you were recently hired at a smaller group on the outskirts of Hosu, surprising him that such a mind boggling quirk was hiding under the shadows of such an unknown agency. He even liked your hero name, 'Death Defy'.

He immediately asked you to come work for him the moment you awoke with the bird man standing over you with a look of fascination.

Which you initially declined.

Because why trust a man you have never met despite his status? You were still unsure of what the world of hero networking was like and it was intimidating to just immediately be okay with working under such a top hero.

You soon found out that Hawks was a persistent man when he had his eye on something though.

A few months went by of randomly running into him out on the field and at your favorite coffee shop, the man now visiting your little caffeinated gem daily around the same time as you at the end of weekly jogs.

He could tell you were not used to the attention, finding out along the way about how you became a hero in your small town despite having merchant parents who ran a grocery store. You had a mutated quirk that was almost godly, one that your parents hide away for years claiming you to be quirkless due to the fear of people come to take you away.

He found it admirable that you had decided to pursue the life of a hero regardless of your safety once you could make the choice for yourself, ignoring your parent’s pleads to just live a normal life. You were fully aware that people would try to take advantage of you or worse, but it was the risk you were willing to take to help as many people that were within your reach.

He almost wondered what the Commission would have done if they had known about her, but he was grateful to meet you just the way you were.

At first you were confused by the interest the winged hero had taken into you, not opposed to his attention at all but you found yourself more lost to be in the presence of such a charismatic man more and more often.

Then your confusion turned into a friendly fondness. His witty banter and flirty attitude growing on you more than you expected, finally causing you to take the plunge to accept his offer.

The charming smirk you got was seared into your memory, your hero life changing drastically from that day on.

You moved closer to his agency, thankful that Hawks offered quite a generous pay to get yourself a decent apartment. Your schedule was more filled than before, answering more calls to disaster scenes and more dangerous encounters to save more people than you ever had.

You felt enlightened and worn to the bone, but it was something that was thrilling to your very core. You wanted to help people and accepting the position at the number two hero's agency had you feeling more useful than ever before.

Speaking of the number two hero, you figured he would stop going out of his way to see you once you agreed to his offer, but you found yourself seeing him more than ever.

He would still see you at your coffee shop, the two of you now having a ritual of sharing a table to chat about everything and anything. He called upon you in a lot of missions too, even if it was precautionary, saying you were more useful than you gave yourself credit for. You swore the blush on your cheeks could be seen through your black face mask.

Time passed and your feelings for the man grew, everything about him drawing you in like a magnet no matter how hard you tried to focus on you hero career. He was charming and flirty sure, but he couldn’t contain the flustered fluff of his feathers at your teasing or the accidental brushes of you hand. He seemed as engaged with you as you were with him, but it was too intimidating to take the plunge and possibly ruin your relationship. 

It was around Spring when you found yourself at the agency late on a Friday night, letting out a deep sigh as you finished your last report.

You figured you were the last one around based on how quiet it had been outside your office for the past two hours. You clicked off your desk lamp as you stood and picked up your stack of files, grabbing your bag to throw over your shoulder on your way out.

You locked your office door and place the files in the tray outside your doorway when you heard something from down the hall towards Hawks' office.

You furrowed your brows as you walked towards the door, noticing that it was nearly all the way latched shut as a whimper caught your attention. It sounded almost pained, causing you to fling open the door with a worried expression, your (e/c) eyes catching the blonde haired crimson winged hero hunched over in his desk chair with a pained look on his handsome face.

"Hawks? Are you alright?" You asked while not noticing the way his body shuddered at your voice, his wings puffing up slightly as your scent wafted into the room as you entered.

His eyes snapped up to yours in a bit of a panic, being in the same mindset as you and expected his agency to be empty by now. "(Y-Y/N)?" His voice was husky and breathy, trying to deal with the flood of heat that seemed to painfully make it's way through him.

He never wanted you to see him like this. He hadn't been keeping track of time of his body's signs of his impending rut, his body and mood all of the place. His hunger almost insatiable for the past few days until, well, this.

All he wanted was to lay low in his office until nightfall then try to sneakily fly back to his penthouse, nest, then ride out his painful week with as much dignity as he could muster.

And right now he felt like the world wanted to see the bird man burn as he watch you round his desk to kneel at his side with a concern look on your pretty face.

"Do you need me to heal something? What's going on?" You asked urgently, your hand going up rest on his flushed cheek and frowning at how heated he felt.

He leaned heavily into your touch, his breaths coming out in pants as his golden eyes opened to practically melt into yours as his lips were barley able to form a reply. "N-no, this isn't somethin' you can fix, dove. You n-need to go."

You frowned further, your eyes narrowing in confusion on the obviously flustered male as you pressed on. "I can't just go with you looking like this! Keigo, please, let me help."

A soft crooning of chirps met your ears, your eyes widening as Hawks felt his face flushing further as he moved away from your touch hastily in response.

"L-listen. This is really embarrassing to deal with and I don't want to creep you out so please let me just deal with this by myself. I promise I'll be okay." He assured you, forcing himself to try and not keep the memory of you on your knees in front of him tucked away for later use.

You could hear rather desperate tone he was barely able to conceal, your eyes taking in a hardened look as you stood your ground. "No Keigo, you can trust me! I don't care if it's embarrassing, just tell me what's going on."

He almost groaned at the commanding tone of your voice, shivers erupting all over his skin at the determined look to your gorgeous face. He blurted out the words before he could process it, not realizing the effect you already had over him due to your scent and his needy nature.

"So you know my quirk is avian in nature, yeah? It's because of that I g-gain some stupid bird traits and habits. Nesting, preening, showing off, possessiveness, and all of that boils down to having a... rut."

".....A rut?" You echo, your eyes searching his as he grit his teeth and forced his hands to remain curled into his own hero jacket to prevent him from reach towards you

"I basically get painfully horny on and off for a week straight. My dumb body wants to do the animal thing." He bluntly drops, hanging his head as he squeezes his eyes shut in mortification of his own words. He wasn't a shy man by any means, but he liked you. He had spent so much time getting to know you and didn't want something like this to make it weird between the both of you. Which is why his eyes snapped open at your next words in disbelief.

"Oh... Well, can't you call a girl to- uh, fuck silly for a few days?"

A pained laugh left his lips at your words, his musical chuckling making a flush settle on your own cheeks as you bashfully glance down from your blunt reply.

Once he caught his breath, he opened his mouth again and tried to not breathe in more of you and your warm energy that called out to him almost teasingly in his clouded mind. "I wish it were that simple, but this is something super, uh, personal? I want to get very connected to whoever I would do this with and I have... never done it with anyone before." He admitted.

"Fuck- sorry that sounded really insensitive, huh? I thought-" He interrupted your apology with a pained wave of his hand, not blaming you for your suggestion at all. "Its fine, I just need to get home. Your, uh smell is kinda driving me wild."

You flushed further, your lips parting in surprise before looking guilty. "I'm sorry-"

"A-again, it's fine. You just scent is just so damn-" He whimpered again, a soft cooing leaving the back of his throat as his body leaned towards yours subconsciously. You bit your lip, your own thighs tightening together at the subject at hand.

Is it bad that I like that he is affected by something as simple as my smell?

You felt embarrassed that your mind was even allowing itself to imagine what it would be like under him, moaning like a bitch in heat while he railed into you. Here was your boss technically that you were thinking about, images of him fucking you in so many ways wanting to flood your mind as he was so vulnerable in front of you. You had pressed him when he already ask you to leave, but you couldn’t help yourself as you wanted to offer any assistance at all to him. 

“Do you need help getting home? I could drive you- wait you said my smell is bothering you...” You realized a bit late about his admission from before, your heart aching for the man in front of you. “You have never had help with this? That must be so painful, I wish I...” You trailed off, your face getting hot at your own implication of your words, wanting to just bury yourself at your own mess up. 

It wasn’t like you crush was surprising, you were just a simple small town town girl who moved to a bigger city in hopes of helping people to be thrust into the arms of a handsome hero.

But you were never obvious in your affections towards the man, always trying to maintain a friendly relationship while telling yourself that any female wouldn’t blame you for letting you heart get away from you at the sight of his sexy charming smirk or his impressive speed and control over his quirk. You had spend almost a year with the man now, you honestly thought about him more often than you should have.

He was way more than just his gorgeous looks, with his kind nature and his witty personality. You knew there had to be a side of him that was hurt and damaged, catching glimpses of far away looks and sad frowns sometimes, but you wanted to learn more about him. To become closer to the man in front of you because you really had come to care for him. Which is why you felt like such a fool for risking that with blurting out your horny thoughts without thinking.

Meanwhile when you scolding yourself for your words, you didn’t see the way his wings fluttered at the implication you left hanging in the air.

She wishes she could what? Does she want to- even with knowing what I'm needing right now?

He couldn’t hold himself back, his eyes searching yours desperately as his mouth opened with a pleading heat to his words. “Would you? You- fuck, you barely know what this is. It’s really a lot and I don’t want you to feel pressured but-” A whining chirp left the back of his throat as he gripped at his chest, practically cooing in pleasure as you instinctively move in closer to him. 

“I really want you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your underwear immediately growing damp at the lust coated words that seemed to drip off his tongue. The blonde just asking was him inadvertently telling you he wanted to get closer to you, making your chest flutter at the knowledge of him caring for you like you did for him. You felt like you should give it more thought, but your mind started to grow muddy with your own arousal as you swallowed quickly before answering with a breathy tone. “Tell me what to do.”

A beautiful groan left his lips as he suddenly stood with your eyes catching the sight of his hardened bulge before pulling you to your feet, backing away from you with a pained sigh and a shake of his hands. 

“If you are serious about this, meet me at my place. My pheromones could cloud your judgement since we’re so close together.... I n-need to get more comfortable and want to p-prepare just in case you do want to do this. Get some of your own clothes and things, I won’t let you leave my place if you come. Literally. I’ll text you my address, m-maybe look up what this is too. Just to be sure.”

The window was opened without further waiting, you watching with a flustered gaze as the crimson winged hero fly off into the distance.

You had some things to go do.

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

You exited the elevator, walking forward towards the only door on the floor with a fluttering nervousness in your stomach. You thanked the gods that he wanted to prepare, giving you time to get a shower and shave yourself bare after a sweaty work day. 

Thankfully you hadn’t taken a day off since starting to work for the winged pro along with it being the start of a weekend you surprisingly had off as well. So you gathered up multiple outfits along with toiletries, approaching the door of Hawks with a a pounding in your ears. You had taken his advice to look up what his rut would entail, blushing scarlet at the mention of breeding and protectiveness one would feel. 

You knew he probably didn’t expect that of you, thankfully you were on the pill anyways. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t indulge on the basic instinct of it all though.

When you knocked, it was barely ten seconds later the door swung open rapidly making you jump slightly at the sight of the blonde male in front of you.

He looked a bit more, well, feral that you remembered. His eyes were almost molten in color, his chest barely hidden by a black tank top with sweats hanging low on his hips. His dirty blonde hair looked damp as well, his eyes raking over your form in a baggy shirt under a black jacket and shorts with a duffel bag over your shoulder. 

“(Y/N), I’m so glad you came.”

He tugged you in immediately, grabbing your duffel bag from you before gesturing for you to follow him after you kicked off your shoes at his door. He knew the moment he touched you for real, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back anymore, so he kept his contact brief with trying to get you situated, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. 

“Sorry for the delay, I had to wait for the taxi for a bit...” You answered back shyly, your hands nervously fiddling with your jacket’s zipper as you entered his room. You knew in the back of your mind where this was going, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be so confident in the presence of such a attractive and stunning man like Keigo. 

“No- no you’re fine. I was preoccupied for a bit at least.” He answered in a husky tone, walking over to set your bag on a bench at the end of his bed. You felt yourself nearly drip at the effect his damn voice had on you, your eyes distracting you by finding the sight of his gigantic bed covered in pillows, blankets, towels, and other articles of clothing stuff along the nest-like structure. You honestly wanted to coo at the sight, it being adorable to you as you turned to see him looking back at you with a soft gaze. 

“Do.. do you like it? I know it’s kinda odd...I mean, it’s a pile of random shit that I like basically.”

You look at him while being slightly surprised at his hesitant tone, never knowing the cocky suave man in front of you to seek approval so openly. You wanted this to be a good experience for him as well, so you gave him a sultry grin as you nodded your head. “Of course, Keigo. I adore it. Very comfy lookin’ If I say so myself!”

The cooing chirps that answered made your heart warm, wanting nothing more than to be closer to Hawks after hearing his cute noises. Your feet were braver than you felt in the moment as you walked toward him, your fingertips trailing over his chest to wrap around his neck as his body shuddered under your touch while his fingers began to dig into your hips. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, your scent felt like it was engulfing him as he tugged you closer and smashed his lips against your soft ones. You moaned in the back of your throat, your bodies pressing together as the heat of the situation began to rapidly escalate faster than either of you had expected. His tongue entered your mouth smoothly, his taste already seeming unfairly addictive as he dominated the kiss so easily that had you feeling breathless already. He felt you grind slightly against his thigh, his cock twitching as the thought of what was to come. 

His lips left yours, his cheeks flushed making the black accent marks around his eyes stand out in the dimmed lighting of the room. “Please, can I fuck you?”

You nodded in response, already having made your decision by coming here in the first place. But the desperation in his tone had you gushing at the thought of having him buried deep within you. You knew what was to come and you could hardly wait to feel him touch you, hoping that it was better than you imagined and dreamed of.

He slid the jacket from your shoulders, you not resisting at all as he let the clothing drop to the floor and worked on your remaining clothing. He appreciated that when he helped you remove your shirt that you went without a bra, the sight of your perky nipples making a whimper leave his lips as he immediately dipped his head down to catch one of the buds between his teeth. 

You let a high pitched cry leave your lips, not expecting his nipping bite but didn’t complain in the slightest. Your quirk gave you a higher pain tolerance than many and despite your small innocent demeanor, you honestly liked it rough.

The crimson winged man noted your reaction as he sucked the areola into his mouth, his tongue swirling soothingly around your skin as he palmed your other breast. He couldn’t control the growl in his throat as he suckled against you sharply, drawing another whine to leave your throat as you felt your fingers shake as they wove into his blonde hair. You tugged at the strands in need as he hooked his arm under your ass and around your waist as he moved you to his bed. 

“Fuck- please, Keigo!” You moaned out, barely able to keep your eyes open as you stared forwards with such a sight like Hawks hovering above you as you raised your hips up as he understood and quickly slipped you bottoms off to leave you completely bare beneath him. 

He soaked in the sight feel of your soft skin under his, his eyes drinking in your body as he tugged off his own clothes knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He honestly wished he could hold back long enough to go slow with you, but he was painfully hard and straining to feel you wrapped around his dick. 

He wasted no time as his slid his index finger along the folds of your pussy, groaning as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck to bite and suck harshly at the sensitive skin. You moaned more as he finally pressed a finger inside of you slowly but smoothly, the stretching comfortable as you began to grind you hips against his finger when it began to start thrusting into you. The speed increased steadily, his finger curling in just the right way to make you see a flash of white and a static to run over your skin in pleasure.

“O-of course you’re good at this.”

“Oh dove, I’m no where even close to started.” 

His grin was feral as he scooted down to hover his face over your freshly shaved pussy, breathing in your slick as you both could hear the lewd sounds of your sex every time his finger entered your spasming cunt. He groaned, the fingers of his free hand digging into your thigh to hold you open for him as he leaned close enough for you to feel his breath on your clit. “You smell delicious, my lovely bird. Can I-”

You cut him off in with an impatient whine, your eyes darkened in lust. “You don’t have to ask, Keigo. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Without another word his tongue slipped into your quivering pussy, his groans vibrating against you and causing you to gasp loudly clutch at his hair desperately as he drank from you. 

“You’re delicious, dovie.” He muttered, his tongue swirling back into your entrance and making you moaned loudly then tug at his hair again with a heavy flush settling on your skin. You felt your orgasm approaching faster than you though possible, your noises becoming more desperate as you tightened your grip in his messy locks. He shoved two fingers into you, curling them and rocking them into you harder and faster as your cries grew louder. 

“Hawks, I-I’m gonna- Ah!” You moaned loudly as he responded by quickening his pace, sucking your clit into his mouth and nibbling at the harden pearl while his pressed his fingers against your g-spot in just the right way.

Your crash had your body shuddering, Keigo removing his fingers to replace them with his mouth as his tongue scooped up as much of your essence that he could. Your hips circled from the over-simulation, the wings of the pro twitching and ruffling at every lapping of his tongue.

He moved to suck the rest of your cum from his fingers once he had thoroughly cleaned you to his liking, your chest heaving from the amazing feeling before giggling almost drunkenly as he flipped you onto your stomach. He smirked as he pulled your hips up and watched you immediately get into position by raising yourself onto your elbows since you were still slightly shaky. 

"I never expected you to be the type who would be so eager." He cooed teasingly as he shifted his knee to spread you further apart for him, the tip of his cock weeping at the sight of you so glistening and open for him.

You shot him a seductive grin over your shoulder, your own lidded gaze committing his flush state to memory as you drank in his chiseled torso and broad shoulders. "I have been dreaming of fucking you since I started working for you, so of course I'm a bit needy."

He groaned at your words, his wings seeming to shudder as he gripped himself and rubbed against your dripping slit. "Yeah? You wanted me for that long? You could have had me so much sooner, (Y/N)."

This earned a whine from your lips, your legs shaking in anticipation as you felt the engorged head of his cock grind against your gushing sex.

"I d-didn't think-" You were cut off by you own pleasure gasp, biting your tongue as you felt him enter you slowly without further teasing. 

“This c-could have been happening for so long now. Feeling you so wet and ready for me.”

He was thick and long but not uncomfortably so, the tip kissing your cervix as he bottomed out inside of you with a surprising gentleness to his touch despite the shaking of his fingers as they dug into your hips.

You could feel him holding back, waiting for you to adjust to his size until you sped up the process by grinding back against him teasingly.

A choked groan left his lips at sensation of your rippling warm walls hugging him so tightly, his talons digging into your skin as his hips stuttered against your own with a pained whimper leaving his own lips. His heat started to flood his body, near torturous as he tried to not rush you. "Please (Y/N), I can barely keep myself from-"

"Keigo, I'll b-be fine so move."

He couldn't take the pleading tone of your sweet voice, his teeth grinding together as his self control practically snapped.

His hips slammed into yours, a high pitched moan leaving you at the sudden movement before he began an almost brutal pace. His cock dragged against the walls of you cunt, the drool worthy friction sending you into a whimpering heap as he thrusted against you harder and harder.

You couldn't help yourself as you tried to grind your hips back in time with his, the male above you smirking at you for being so desperate for him. He found himself pausing at times to grind deeply within you, almost mockingly to remind you of starting the teasing.

"Fuck, Keigo-- Harder!"

His golden eyes soaked up you form, watching the way the flesh of you ass rippled every time his hips rutted against yours roughly like you begged for. He leaned over your body, feeling the primal need to mark you as his as his chest came to rest on your back as he rubbed his scent on you.

"You sound so good, dove. Let me hear you." His growl next to you ear had you practically on the edge of your second orgasm, eyes rolling back as his hand wrapped around you throat to drag you to bend towards him creating a pretty arch to your back. "H-Hawks-"

A choked cry was torn from you lips as his fingers tightened around you windpipe, his hips still slamming against yours at a nearly inhuman pace. "P-please! Fuck me, fill me up! Gods breed me!"

His pupils blew out in desire, your words having their intended affect as he felt his cock twitch at the thought of filling you. He knew he couldn’t last long after hearing such erotic things spilling from your lips.

"Fuck! I'm gonna make you mine, fill you over and over with my fuckin’ cum!" He snarled into your ear as his pace increasing somehow, releasing your neck to rub messy circles on your clit to drag you down with him. "I want you to cum with me, (Y/N, now."

You cried out at the extra simulation, your eyes practically crossing as you felt your release bubbling over. You had never orgasmed on command before, feeling the shake of you body as it spasmed under his hold.

He let out loud pleasured groan, slamming his hips into yours deeply to spill himself inside of you as he large red wings fanned out widely before curling around you both. He felt his cock getting milked by your needy pussy, practically clamping down on him as he let himself rest inside of you for a moment to catch his breath as well as bask in his connection to you.

A soft cooing noise was heard from the back of his throat, turning your head with a dazed well-fucked smile as he flushed at your state below him. You felt his soft feathers brush against your skin as he slowly sat up.

"You're adorable, Hawks." You murmured, shivering as he pulled himself out of you, your eyes immediately darting back to see his cock for the first time and felt you mouth practically water at the sight of it still hard as hell. "And sexy."

He felt his ego get stroked by your words, knowing that he cared more about how you viewed him more than anyone. He was honestly still in disbelief that he even had you here, willing to be with him and wanting to be close to him in such a way.

"All yours now, dove." He replied with a wink, about to move off of you to get a washcloth when you turned suddenly enough to startle him. In a jumble of limbs and feathers, he found himself stunned as you straddled his hips with a devilish curl to your lips. 

He immediately felt his dick twitch at the sight on you hovering over him, his eyes meeting yours as you began to speak with a lust dripping tone. “You know, Hawks, I noticed something quite interest about your rut~.”

He felt him shudder as her fingers trailed down his chest before moaning lowly as you wrapped your fingers around his cock to position the tip at your messy entrance. “W-wait dovie, I’m really sensitive but if you give me just a min-”

He couldn’t find it in him to make a move as you sank down onto his length with a breathy moan leaving your own lips as he felt the mixture of you both starting to drip onto his pelvic bone and thighs you began to grind against him easily. 

His crimson wings tried to feebly curl at the sensation, his eye squeezing shut as a dark red flush settled over his face at the over-stimulation as his breath began to leave him in heavy pants. He thought you weren’t going to continue talking as he tried to reach up and grab your hips once he adjusted to your heat once again. 

That is until one hand snatched his wrists to hold them above his head.

He felt his breath stutter as your free hand went to his wing, curling your fingers into the plume of soft feathers firmly but mindful in case he reacted poorly to such a change of positions as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. 

“I got you, pretty bird~ I wasn’t finished speaking.”

His reaction was beautiful though, a sharp gasp that turned into a lewd moan left his lip as his wings trembled at your surprising actions and seductive tone. He continued to grind up against you in response at such an unexpected turn of events. Your own eyes drank the sight of him looking so desperate beneath you as you began swirling your hips while you watched his face contort in pure pleasure at your ministrations. 

You knew you read about males becoming dominant, which you could easily see him doing, but he also seemed like he was equally as needy, wanting to establish something deeper and emotional. He was acting soft and gentle, which you never would have taken him for in the bedroom. 

Your mind connected the dots with his crooning noises and more thoughtful and almost bashful behavior at times since finding out about his rut, wanting to test if your theory was correct. 

“You are way more submissive, aren’t you Keigo?”

He choked out a groan, wanting to buck up against you until he felt you sliding up his length as you dragged him tortuously slow from your warm moist heat before dropping back down onto him roughly. He threw his head back with cry leaving his lips, a victorious smile forming on your lips as you began to set a steady pace of riding him in a slow and sensual manner.

You ignored his pleading to go faster for a while, enjoying the way he crumpled easily under your touch and was practically begging you to fuck him senseless as he tugged at your hold feebly. You knew he could overpower you easily if he truly wanted, but he seemed tamed under you.  

You only began to increase your pace when he was bucking back up against you with his cries got louder leaving his lips, wanting to soak up the sight of such a powerful man at your mercy. “Please, (Y/N) I need to touch you, please-!” 

You kissed him suddenly, the blonde male immediately opening his mouth and moaning as your sweet tongue danced against against his. He felt himself getting close until you suddenly stopped bouncing on top of him, your hips slowing to a grind again that had him whimpering against your lips as you pulled away from him to move the hand from his wing to grasp his chin in a firm hold. 

Your (e/c) orbs seared into his, the man melting into your touch as he felt more of your slick gush around his cock that made his eyes roll slightly at the feeling. 

“Be honest when answering my question and you can fuck me to your heart’s content. You’ll get to fill me up as many times as you want and use me like your own personal toy.”

He nodded quickly, his wrists tugging at your grip as he wanted nothing more in the moment than to just keep fucking you until you both were unable to move. “Fuck! A-anything! Whatever you want, please!” 

Your lips couldn’t help but curl further at the sound of his needy voice, but decided you had your fun. “How long have you wanted to fuck me, Hawks? How long have you wanted to fuck the pro hero, Death Defy?”

You were barely able to hide your surprise as the answer left his mouth immediately with no hesitation or shame. 

“Since I h-heard you laugh the first day after I found your coffee shop. I loved how your laugh s-sounded  and you looked so sexy in your tights-”

“Fuck-”

You let go of his wrists, the blonde man wasting no time in pushing you onto you back while rolling his legs under himself to hook your knees to press them back into you as his hips started to piston into yours again at a break neck speed. 

“God, I love your pussy so much-”

It was all so smooth, your head spinning at how he was able to get you under his spell again so easily, moaning loudly as your cunt was stretched from such a delicious angle that he was able to achieve as he pounded into you.

His breath was puffing out over your ear, heating you as he lost himself in the feel of your body as his hips blurred at his motion. The slaps of skin on skin echoed along the moans and grunts heard from you both. “Keigo fuck-- your cock is so good!”

When you felt him shift into the position that head you seeing stars you felt yourself talk, though your words felt almost like they were an echo in your own ears. “Gods, I’ll never want anyone else! I love you!”

You thought you had kept your words in your mind safe where they belonged until you felt his hips stutter against yours, his answering moan making your body shake as he began to thrust deeply into you almost with a purpose. His golden orbs locked onto your dazed ones as he knew he couldn’t last much longer.

“Christ, I love you, (Y/N)!”

You were felt yourself come undone as he pounded into you harshly, crying out as he continued to rail into you for another moment before bottoming out and filling you up as deeply as he could. 

Both of you panted at the buzz of energy that still hung in the air, both staring at the other in a surprised high as they tried to process how the sex had went from amazing to otherworldly in just one attempt. 

You wrapped your arms around the crimson winged male, pulling him down with a low whine in your throat as he rested his body against yours while holding his weight off you a bit still. You just wanted the closeness, pressing your lips to his sweaty shoulder as he shivered slightly at the feeling along with the gentle squeeze of you around his cock as he had to pull out of you. 

He turned to press his lips to the side of your neck, smirking as he felt you shiver still under his touch.

“So, you love me?” He asked, his eyes glinting as he watched the pretty flush on your face darken while suddenly growing more bashful in the afterglow. 

“I-I mean, I f-feel like I do but don’t let that sca-” Hawks pressed his lips to yours soft ones to cut you off, parting after leaving you breathless once again with a soft look to his eyes and a adoring smile on his face. “I said it back, dove. Your confidence should stick around a bit more.”

You felt like you were in bliss, Keigo coming to gently rest in arm under your breasts with his wing covering you like a blanket before he broke the silence that started to settle over you.

“.....Ready for another go?”

“Fuck yes.”

[swanky-batman]

Bringing Down the Hammer Part 2

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Seriously- swearing. Violence, graphic depictions of small stories, drinking, adult situations. Just. All of the things.

Part two finds us the first morning of Y/N’s stay at the famed Avengers tower and her attempt at a normal life.

Masterlist  || Ko-Fi

Beginning

———————-

Your alarm rang and you fell off the bed, not used to the set up of the end table here compared to your place. 

“Fuck me.” You rubbed your arm, sighing as you went and got into the shower.

“Morning!” Wanda greeted, surprisingly cheerful. 

“Morning.” You greeted back, your eyes widening at the sight of the coffee pot. “You guys got to-go cups?” You gestured towards it as you checked your watch. Bucky and Steve walked in, coming from an apparent workout as Wanda nodded and opened a cupboard.

“Thanks.” You smiled to her, nodding towards the boys who walked in.

“Hey!” Nat called from the top of the stairs, finishing getting dressed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You pointed at your chest, looking around, “Me? What the shit did I do?”

“Language.” Steve sighed and Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You’re supposed to wake me up so I can go with you to work.”

“Nat, no offense but you are the last person I would ever purposely wake up in the morning.” You chuckled, grabbing a pack of pop tarts out of the open drawer (thanks to Wanda) and grabbing your to go cup, heading towards the elevator.

“Yeah, well, too bad. I’m not having you get killed ‘cuz I’m cranky in the morning.”

“Cranky?!” You laughed, turning towards the room, “The last time I tried waking her up she shot me. Actually shot me.” Wanda, Steve and Bucky all gaped and laughed at the same time.

“In the arm.” She scoffed, “Besides- these people will do so much worse than a love tap.”

“I need an updated dictionary, ‘cuz getting shot is not my definition of a love tap.” You checked your watch, “Damn, I gotta get going.”

“I’m coming with you!” She called.

“You don’t even have shoes, my dear.” You smirked, giving a general wave to the room before scooting into the elevator while Nat tried to frantically run upstairs.

You popped one of your headphones in and hit your morning playlist, starting the walk to work. It actually wasn’t that far and you didn’t have a vehicle either way since you lived in the city. “Should only be about a 20 minute walk.” You checked your watch again, throwing your pop tarts into your bag and taking a sip of coffee as you walked.

A screech from behind you made you shoot back a look, seeing a flashy sports car driving up near you, “Need a ride?” Tony called, looking over his sunglasses.

“I’m good walking, thanks.”

“I have an angry widow on my six that says otherwise.” He smirked, giving a small shrug as you sighed and got in the passenger side.

“Thanks. Nat is a little too clingy for me to handle this morning.” You smirked, keeping your bag in your lap.

He sped off, chuckling, “Where are we off to?”

You gave him directions on the way there, noting the motorcycle chasing behind. “Christ she doesn’t give up.” You chuckled, nodding towards it.

Tony smirked, “Call Romanoff.” He spoke to the car, and when she picked up you spoke up.

“Nat get off our ass- clearly you know I’m getting a ride at this point.” You flipped off the person behind you who weaved around a car to get closer. 

“What are you two talking about? I noted that Tony took you and came home.” Her voice tensed, “Who’s following you?!” You looked over at Tony, mouth stuck in an open jaw gaze as you looked back.

“No-nothing.” You stammered out, your heart speeding up.

“Your friend is god awful at pranks, Romanoff. Hanging up now.” Tony pressed end, immediately speeding up, putting up the cars defenses. A dark tint came over the windows. Nat’s face lit up your phone as she called you, and your breathing picked up.

“Well, fuck. So much for my day to day.” You paused and shook your head, laughing. “We have got to be imagining it, right?”

Shooting came from the bike as people around ducked down, screaming.

“Fuck me!” You lowered your head automatically.

“Hold on.” Tony called, speeding around a parked car and onto an incoming highway traffic.

“To what?” You shouted back, instinctively bracing the side of the car and the arm rest by Tony’s arm.

“O-kay.” Tony’s face tightened, looking a little uncomfortable.

“What? A good okay or a fucked okay then?” You dared not look ahead, instead focusing on his face and features, trying to gain insight as to what was happening. 

His arms tensed and you felt a scraping on the sides of the car as he pushed through something. You braved a look back to spot more than one vehicle on your tail as your phone lit up again with Nat’s face. You threw your phone in the back seat with your bag, breathing through.

“Okay, what can I do to help? Are there weapons?”

“I’m Tony Stark, of course I have weapons.” He smirked tightly, trying to play it cool. “The question is can you use them?”

You blinked for a moment, shaking your head. “Probably not. But I can drive.”

“Oh no you don’t this is my baby.” Another set of bullets came in and his face tensed again.

You sighed, hitting the cruise control button as you reached underneath his seat and pushed the bar back, flicking your leg over the middle console as you held the wheel. Instead of fighting you, he seemed to give in. Here came the awkward part, you sliding in and him sliding out. You were in between seats and he shifted in between seats as well, trying to move behind you as one of the cars came up and bumped into you, knocking you back into him, his arms sliding around your waist. 

“You good?” He asked, trying to steady you before receiving a nod and sliding the remainder of the way out.

“Fucking murk these jerks.” You called, finally able to pull the seat up and be in full control, taking it off cruise and looking in the mirrors. 

Tony reached into the glove box and then looked back and flicked the back seat up, revealing a half pieced Iron Man suit.

“You always come prepared?” Your eyebrow twitched into a tease and it earned a grin from him.

“There’s too many cars here.” He hissed, looking around.

“Got this.” You called, keeping an eye on the five bikes and vehicles behind you.

“What-” His head flicked over to you as you flicked the wheel, riding over a bump and a slight grass hill, spinning off the entrance ramp the wrong way and onto a street leading towards construction.

Three managed to stay directly behind you as you weaved into the site which was closed today.

“Shit shit shit.” You flicked your eyes to Tony for forgiveness as you crashed through the locked metal fence, “I’m sorry.” Gaining speed again, you rode quickly as Tony kept a tight line on his face, slowly opening the sunroof to lift his body up and point his gloved hand out, shooting missiles at the two cars behind you.

You reached a hand up to his chest to steady him a little as you swerved away from the incoming car who came from the other side.

A few minutes and some obstacles later you were back on the street, moving quickly to get away from the scene. Tony was back inside, silent, his jaw tensed.

“Take a left up here.”

You obeyed, following his directions to a small parking garage all the way to the bottom. You parked, staying still for a few minutes.

He got out, slamming the door, making you jump a little before opening yours.

You looked at him for indicators as to what he was feeling. Pissed, kinda scary, kinda sexy? Nope, don’t need that. You rubbed your face, clearing your throat.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, finally making eye contact.

Yep, all those things you listed and more- hurt? “I’m guessing it was Hammer’s goons.”

“No,” He took a step closer, “That driving.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Adrenaline?”

“Bullshit.”

“Who’s the sailor now?”

“Stop. Evading.” His face was just in front of yours and you could feel his heat in front of you. 

“Tony-” You looked a little sad, sorrowful.

“You need to tell me what the hell is happening. You are doing exactly what I asked you not to do!” You could feel his anger.

“Look-”

“You put my family in danger!” He shouted again.

“I’m sorry!” You shouted back, this time matching his anger.

“I don’t think you understand what just happened. What if Natasha was the one who picked you up? You guys would have been dead on a bike right now! I need to know I can have you back at the house- I think I’ve earned the explanation.”

You sighed, lowering your tone a little. “You can keep yelling questions but are you going to let me answer anything?”

He paused, his face shaking for a moment before he backed up ever so slightly.

You took a breath, trying to calm down. “Look- these guys are really Hammer’s goons as far as I know. They are the only ones I know of that want me dead.” He looked like he wanted to scream back a sarcastic answer but he kept himself contained. 

“Fuck I wish I had more than coffee right now- look. Long version is- I work in criminal justice, I’m working on a program to join multiple different parts of programs together to expand records for the overabundance of Jane and John Doe’s. The mafia wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me linking bodies to different jurisdictions. Kidnapped me a while back from Florida, but because my program was being implemented in the United States they figured they would move me to a different part of the world. Well, for that among information they wanted.” You paused, biting your lip and pushing back those thoughts. 

“Is that how you know them?” His eyes still looked dangerous, but the rest of him seemed to calm down a bit.

You nodded slightly, “Budapest was a wild ride that I am not legally allowed to discuss.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

Tony paused, soaking in the information.“What the hell happened there? All we get are weird snippets of ‘memories’.”

“I’ll leave the details to your imagination. Getting out of the area was a challenge, the only thing I could do was drive those two out near the end. After multiple days, undercover aliases and stolen cars that couldn’t be linked to us we finally got to a spot where we could take multiple flights before getting to New York. That was last year, I moved to this city. I’ve had my fair share of hiding and secrecy. I need this to be over.” You met his eyes, “I want to be me again.”

He met your eyes, searching your face for a few minutes as you both remained silent.

Some squeaking tires were heard coming in and you both jumped, Tony coming to stand in front of you, still wearing his glove.

“It’s me!” Nat yelled, throwing her helmet off. “What the hell happened out there?”

You stepped around Tony, “Look, Nat-”

She stopped you, looking at Tony, “Why does she look sad? Did you press her for information?”

“He deserved to know as much as I could tell!” You spoke up, trying to get her to look at you.

“Damnit Tony!” She shouted, “Do you know what that does to her?”

“Hey!” You shouted back, “I can handle my story telling now.”

Her mouth stayed tight, “We can talk back at the tower.”

“I can’t go back.” You pulled back, “It’s not fair to put all of you into danger-”

“Who the hell is supposed to look after you then?” She shouted again, getting angry.

“Nat it isn’t fucking right!” You shouted back, “You guys don’t have anyone watching out for you! You should feel safe at least one place.”

“So should you.” Tony spoke up, placing his hand around your shoulders. “Let’s get back home.” He nodded towards Nat, leading you back towards the car.

———————-

Tags: @i-regret-this-already, @breezy1415, @seninjakitey, @imboredsueme, @courtneychicken, @marriedtopeterparker, @imeannooffensebabybut, @cassiopeia-barrow, @daphne-fandom-writing, @notmyfault404, @i-larb-spooderman, @aussiearies, @marvelismylifffe, @kdcollinsauthor

[shark-wrangler]

Okay here’s that text wall I said I was gonna produce. hope you weren’t expecting Cathar Masterpost levels of organization this is literally just me spouting bullshit. So like my working headcanon is that the Republic kink scene exists, but it’s pretty underground, especially in the core worlds, and really obsessively concerned with optics because BDSM is so widely seen as an Imperial Thing™ (or worse, a Sith Thing™) by the average citizen and the public perception of it is Not Great as a result. So you get a scattering of fairly insular communities that usually don’t have a ton of interplanetary networking and they all tend to have a lot of really specific unspoken rules about what kind of kinks are acceptable and how you should go about it. On the upside most of them are also really effective at ferreting out abusers and are generally quite protective and helpful toward newcomers (if you can find them in the first place), and there’s a lot of dialogue about consent even by Earth kink standards. Most of the community leans very new-age-y and there’s very little in the way of edgeplay or anything adjacent to high protocol D/s, because that’s Too Imperial And We’re Not Like Those Freaks. Little pockets of it exist, mainly either on contested backwater planets where there’s some cultural overlap, or on Coruscant where statistically you can find a community for almost anything just because the population is so fuck-off huge.

On the flipside, the Imperial scene is so open and pervasive that it permeates a lot of the broader popular culture, and even people who aren’t personally into it are very aware of it and tend to pick up elements of the aesthetic and culture. The general vibe leans a LOT more old guard/high protocol/there-are-rules-and-traditions-to-these-things-you-know. Ironically it largely stems from Sith culture, which leans very hierarchical but also very fluid and at times surprisingly casual, and originated from an emulation of their approach but retrofitted to broader Imperial sensibilities, favoring more structure and lower tolerance for personal risk as the Imperial subculture became more distinct from the Sith. On the whole there’s little to no judgement or oversight regarding what people choose to engage in, but to a degree that can be outright dangerous. If someone has a history of abuse and/or hazardous incompetence word will get around and they’ll be hard pressed to find anyone willing to go near them, but it’s mostly on the individual to know who the dangerous people are and stay away from them and if you don’t succeed, well, that sounds like a you problem, learn to vet people.

There’s also an uncomfortable grey area no one talks about when it comes to dynamics between Sith and Imperials, which are absolutely rife with abuse and an innate very real power imbalance that makes consent challenging to navigate at best and completely irrelevant at worst. It can work, given an abundance of communication and a lot of caution and self-awareness on the part of the Sith, but the typical response to seeing a situation like this is to assume the worst and then immediately look the other way because Sith are gonna Sith and openly having a problem with that is at the very top of the “dumb ways to die in the Empire” list.

[crystalelemental]

FE Fates Replay - Part 6

Okay...okay, I think I’m over Peri being here.  Kinda.  Not really, but enough to move on with our lives.  God I hate her...  Her levels have been better than some of my units with Aptitude!  You couldn’t even just make her a bad unit?!

Ugh, whatever, chapter 12.  The map itself is actually really cool.  The idea is that there are a ton of jars lining the field, and they’re filled with poison or medicine.  You can tell which is which when you hover over them.  Attacking a medicine jar heals you or increases stats or something, for all units within a few spaces.  Poison harms you, brings you down to half HP, or lowers stats, again, for all units with a few spaces.  The concept of the map is to navigate through the maze by breaking the medicine pots strategically to make your way forward.  I actually really like the concept of the map.  I’m just...not entirely clear why this place, the most advanced medicinal center of the world, has a bunch of jars of poison laying out.  Or the medicine, for that matter.  You’d think they’d have a storage space for that shit, instead of leaving it lying around.  Kinda strange, when you think about it.

Anyway, Ryoma is here, but you don’t have to fight him.  You can either beat him, or escape within 16 turns.  Failure to do so probably means Elise dies, since you can’t use her this chapter because of the illness.  Saizo and Kagero are the mini-bosses, in a sense.  They hover right near that nice dragon vein that shatters all the jars, and are paired up so they’re more defensive.  Frankly, they seem kinda scary.  High speed, high evasion, able to hit close or distant foes, and having an attack on them just negated if you miss too often?  Pretty brutal.  Or, well, it would’ve been, if Dragon Corrin wasn’t huge.  She basically one-shot Saizo right away, and then massacred Kagero.  It was not even fair, frankly.  They didn’t deserve that hard an ass-whupping.

Now here’s where I want to note again: I am playing Casual.  So at this point, I made a save, and did two different approaches.  One was breaking all the jars instantly and seeing how that played out, and the other was leaving them.  Leaving them lets you be a bit more precise in your movements, but I honestly found breaking them all immediately to be way more effective.  A lot of enemies get hit with the poison, and since you’re causing the break, you can set up your units out of harm’s way.  That said, this does immediately open up the path for like 10 ranged enemy units to swarm you, and most are ninjas so your defenses drop really fast.  It’s surprisingly dangerous.  I’m sure there’s a better way to handle this map, but we’re on a timer here so instead, Dragon Corrin is just going to bait all your fuckers out and take like no damage, then have everyone else run in and smash them to death.  With that, all the remains is Ryoma.  Who is also no match for Dragon Corrin’s hugeness.  I paired her up with Nyx, and she deal something outrageous like 25 damage to Ryoma in that single hit, and took like 6.  Being a dragon is kickass.  Her dialogue with Ryoma is about the same as usual, but I did have Azura land the final blow, getting her unique dialogue with Ryoma as well.  Honestly, it’s more of the “Ah, so you’ve betrayed us Azura!” stuff, and how I guess nobody from Nohr can be trusted.

Look...I get it.  Nohr is the instigator in a war here.  They are, by all accounts, the bad guys here.  But my god if I’m not tired of having every single conversation with the Hoshidans turn into then yelling about all Nohrians being scum, and how being treacherous is just in their blood, yadda yadda.  I know I shouldn’t conceptualize it this way, but my god do the Hoshidans come off as way more belligerent.  Sure, we have the inside perspective of what the Nohrians in general are like, being inside the kingdom, but like...okay, imagine in Heroes, if everyone who met Laegjarn and Laevatein just kept shouting about how they’re horrible awful people and their whole kingdom is a bunch of back-stabbing sub-humans.  That’s basically how Hoshido approaches Nohr, solely because the king is insane and evil.  I get that they’re angry, and they’re right to be so, but their approach to people legitimately trying to act with a sense of decorum and decency is still to constantly call them scum and dismiss the whole kingdom.  Seriously, fuck you guys.

After Ryoma gets fucking bodied, Elise is given the medicine and is back to full strength!  From here we are given our next assignment.  There’s another rebellion in Cheve, and we’re to put it down.  Boy Garon, you’re sure doing a great job leading, what with the constant rebellions going on.  So, off to Cheve it is, where we meet...oh god yes.  It’s Takumi again.  Oh man, I am going to kick his ass into the fucking dirt.  He yells more stuff about Nohr being traitors and shoots Elise with an arrow, securing his death.  The rebellion is all mad and shit, and Corrin gives another order to not kill anyone.  Early on, we get two new characters, Benny and Charlotte.  Benny doesn’t stand out much at all, so not much to report.  Charlotte...is the only character whose outfit might be worse than Camilla’s.  The win still goes to Camilla, because...my god, lady.  But Charlotte is a front-line warrior, who’s barely wearing clothes.  I think I’d be less pissed if her defense growth wasn’t so high.  Look, this is a series with units in heavy armor and units in cloth armor.  There’s meant to be a distinction in which stats are good.  Her having great defense is not following the damned rules!  Also I think the armor part above the cleavage pisses me off too.  Like, if you’re going for the whole seductive appearance, go all out.  That stupid little bit of armor ain’t doin’ shit anyway.  That said though, her introduction is threatening to kill everyone for being too noisy at night, so like...I can relate.  Might be another situation of “solid character, shitty costume.”  But she sucks up to Corrin really hard, so she’s kind of all about the attention from others, and is a bit of a gold-digger in general.  So we’ll see if that goes anywhere in supports.

Map itself isn’t that interesting, so once you win, Hans, of course, does his thing and starts killing everyone.  “Uh, um...the king!  Yeah, the king totally told me to do it, so you gotta follow my lead on this one!”  Camilla apparently agrees and insists that there’s nothing we can do here.  Listen...I’m pretty sure there’s a solid argument for not listening to the current commanding officer being a punishable offense.  I get the king’s decree and all, but you know how Leo and the others constantly think around the problem and look like they’re obeying but don’t actually obey?  Yeah.  This is like...the easiest time to do that.  Evacuate the townsfolk and sticking Camilla’s axe in the back of Hans’ skull, and call it a day.  The village is gone, as far as the king knows, and Hans’ death was in battle.  They don’t know the difference.  “Oh, but Iago might be spying on them.”  Bullshit.  Iago could be doing a lot of things, but he only shows up to be slightly annoying.  Besides, if he were really so vigilant, then Leo wouldn’t be able to pull of anything he’s pulled off in the game.  We can’t throw out “Iago is watching” as a convenient catch-all for everyone, except for Leo because the plot needs to make us think that he’s the clever one so no one else is allowed to think around problems.

Chapter 14, the group arrives for some more rest in Cyrkensia, which mostly seems to be about a big theater.  It’s a neutral territory, which I wasn’t aware existed in this conflict.  Leo finally joins us and is around, I guess.  Corrin attempts to confront Garon about the situation in Cheve, and he’s just like “Good job on killing all those innocents.  I hear you even seemed to enjoy the work.  That’s the kind of thing I expect of you.”  Like, buddy.  Guy.  Are you an idiot?  You know full damn well Hans was full of shit on that report, and by now you know that Corrin wasn’t going to go along with it either.  Honestly, this is the biggest problem with Garon, he’s inconsistent.  For such a merciless guy, he sure keeps giving Corrin a ton of second chances after she constantly and consistently defies him.  Almost like...everyone’s kinda full of shit?  And that Corrin can do whatever she wants because plot armor?  Weird.

Azur-uh, the totally mysterious performer on stage, gosh-golly who could it be, attempts to sing this magic song that is too lit for the king to handle, so he has a combined orgasm/heart attack and nearly bites it.  Iago, ever the clever advisor, is like “HOLY SHIT, THAT PERFORMER CAST A CURSE ON THE KING!”  I...don’t think that’s particularly likely, guy.  But no, everyone just goes along with that, as if it’s the obvious answer.  So yeah, I guess that’s what we’re doing now.  Catch the mysterious singer.  Oh, wait, the Hoshidans are here.  Better fight them first.

Keaton shows up, mostly because he has no sense of direction and kinda just bumblefucked his way here.  He seems cool.  Wolf man that collects bugs and shit.  He’s alright.  The map itself was pretty uninteresting.  Mostly it’s just a lot of flying and ranged units on very narrow paths, so it’s kinda hard to defend everyone effectively when the enemy is so much less hindered by the terrain.  Also there’s a cleric who uses the Freeze staff, and my god am I already getting tired of that one.

After the map, Garon commands you to kill all the performers in this neutral territory, because that’ll go over well on the global stage.  Sure doubt that’ll set the neutral territories in motion against you.  Corrin is mortified and does that arguing thing, and Leo gets to be the only smart one and takes her aside, and tells her that they’re going to follow orders by looking in really unlikely places so everyone can escape.  See, this is what I’m talking about!  Iago’s literally in this general area, and yet the plan is spelled out and carried out without a hitch!  Why couldn’t anyone have figured this out back in Cheve?!

Chapter 15, this is another fun map.  Corrin is still upset about all the needless killing lately, and sees Azura taking a walk as well.  Thinking about how similar their situations are, she follows, and finds Azura sinking into a lake!  Fearful that she’s drowning, Corrin chases Azura, and falls through the lake herself, into this mystery world full of weird soldiers that are apparently not able to feel any emotion at all and just seek to kill.  Gunter shows up and is apparently alive and well here, so that’s cool.  Really, there’s a lot I can recall that pisses me off about this hidden world, but that’s for a much later time when they try to explain shit.  For now, just know that I hate this place.

The map itself is neat.  The dragon vein splits your party into two copies, one in the north and one in the south.  A unit and their copy share damage and stat changes, so anything that hurts one hurts the other.  Also only the real Azura in the north can do the singing thing.  It’s a neat concept, and having only three units to do it is an interesting limitation, but...one of them is Azura, who is very weak, and her copy can’t even provide multiple turns.  And the other is Gunter, whose stats are not terrible but who comes with no preparation and the worst growths in the entire game for some reason.  At least you get a bunch of stat upgrading items if you can clear it fully.

Now...this is where things get dumb.  Azura informs you that you must jump off this cliff, and you’ll arrive at the bottomless pit that Gunter got kicked into.  Why?  Dunno, that’s just how they’re connected.  Corrin asks why they can’t just go back through the water, and Azura informs her that only Azura and Corrin are able to do that, so Gunter would get left behind.  Corrin asks the logical follow up of “Why the hell would that be the case?” but this question is ignored so that there’s more shit they can explain in the true route.  I’d call this foreshadowing, but I think foreshadowing comes with a degree of subtlety.  Azura jumps, and Corrin follows, with Gunter going last.  Oh, I forgot something.  Azura informs them that “time flows differently in this hidden world,” which is bullshit code for “we needed a way to get Corrin and Azura alone for this next scene, so Gunter not showing up immediately with them is because the flow of time is convoluted.”  So begins the true contrivance train.  Azura uses a magic crystal from the hidden world that can show you the truth of things.  She uses this to show Corrin the truth of King Garon, that he is a weird goo monster!  Literally, he’s made of goo.  Callie didn’t believe me when I called him a goo monster, but she has since acknowledged this is the only explanation for him.  What does this mean?  No idea.  Initially, I would’ve said he was killed and replaced by the thing, but Azura further explains that her performance in Cyrkensia (*gasp* It was her the whole time?!), was to restore Garon to his senses, implying that he’s still the same human, just corrupted into...whatever this is.  Somehow.  God, I hope they can explain how the fuck this happened, but I doubt they can.  Azura explains that this song was the only way to restore him, and that it failing means there’s only one option - regicide.  About time someone on this fucking team started talking any sense.

CONTRIVANCE TWO!  Corrin says no one else would go along with this, and that they can’t tell the other siblings about this because, as Azura explained earlier, if you talk about the other world, you’re cursed and get drawn back in, never to leave.  Because if you could just talk about the problem, then this entire plot, from start to fucking finish, would be resolved in the span of like 5 minutes.  We needed a contrivance to say why they can’t just do that.  But hey, you know, Awakening’s story just wasn’t that good, and we’re here to do a better job.  They remember the Hoshidan throne, and that sitting upon it would restore someone’s true memories and shit, so their new plan is to gain Garon’s trust and have him sit atop that throne and be revealed as a good monster.  So let’s just run with that.

Chapter 16, Xander finally joins us!  He has a nice introduction with Corrin and Azura in particular, mentioning that when Azura came to Nohr, it was with Garon’s second wife, Arete.  Now...I’m confused.  So, diving into things from my last playthrough, Mikoto and Arete are siblings, from Valla.  Arete had Azura before marrying Garon, so I’m assuming that Garon must’ve already had his four kids by the time she shows up, since none of the Nohrian siblings are apparently related.  But Xander only mentions Camilla and “later, Leo” in his explanation of the other siblings liking her despite the masses not liking her.  So...when were the kids born?  Because in addition to this, apparently Elise has no memories of her father ever being a good person, which I believe happened shortly after Arete, who must’ve come in after Leo was born but maybe not before Elise?  It’s so fucking confusing.

Anyway, we’re on the direct war-path with Hoshido.  We’re told to go by sea, since they’d never expect a sea-based attack!  Garon makes some comment about outsmarting them at every turn, and it’s like...guy, listen.  I know you think this is super clever, but unless the Hoshidans are full-on dumbasses, they thought about the fact that the navy can get to them too.  Iago also attempts to be a shit, by asking where Corrin and Azura went last night.  Corrin, in the span of like two seconds, seems to have learned how to lie really well, and gives the story that they went out for a stroll, encountered some unknown soldiers, and killed them all.  She even parrots Garon’s thing about rebellion and seeds and all that.  Our girl is learning...

No sooner do you leave port than you are besieged by pirates.  Yes, pirates have snuck aboard, and are taking all the gold you set off with!  ...a few questions.  (1) Why is this gold not in your pockets?  (2) When you win, why is some of the money gone forever?  You’re at sea, and there are no pirate vessels nearby.  They all snuck aboard ahead of time, and have no exit point.  So where the hell did the money go?  This mechanic makes no sense.  I will admit though, I do like the idea of balancing keeping your characters alive, and saving as much money as you can in this kind of route where funds are limited.  It’s a cool idea, it just doesn’t make sense.  You’ll also note that the goal is “beat the boss,” but the boss isn’t present.  Part of your goal is to identify which Nohrian soldier is in disguise, and out them as the leader.  Again, really cool idea, for a fairly nonsense map.

There isn’t a ton going on with the map outside of this, but you unmake the boss, Shura, and probably kick his ass really hard now that you have Xander.  Shura talks a lot, but the only thing of value he says is that he’s the one who had kidnapped Azura as a baby, under orders from Yukimura, the tactician for Hoshido.  Shura explains that he doesn’t really have allegiance to either nation, but wants to avenge the death of his clan.  You are given the option to kill him or spare his life.  I sincerely thought about killing him, just to know what happens, but I did let him live.  Corrin thinks he deserves a break after all the shit that’s happened to him, so that’s fair I guess.  With this, we press on toward Hoshido.

UGH.  God, I knew the plot would take a downturn, and here we are.  EVERYTHING about that hidden world, Valla, is just stupid beyond words.  I hate its existence.  Even just smaller things at this point bother me.  There’s no reason Leo has to be the only one with an ounce of sense.  Hell, he even states that all the siblings have become masters of seeming to obey while making judgment calls for the greater good, yet no one else is allowed to demonstrate this ability because then Leo loses his only characteristic so far, being clever.  Honestly, the characters have been doing okay, but the plot’s holding them back.  So next time, instead of plot, I’m going to be doing the supports.  All of them.  We gotta figure out who’s getting paired up with who, after all.  So stay tuned for me going insane, because now I have to deal with Peri talking.  God...if you’re listening...please...look down upon the development team for Three Houses.  If they’re making another fucking character like Peri, where she’s just infantile and murder-happy, give them a sign that they need to knock that shit off.

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in the Grey (ch 4)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Kanji Tatsumi, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

It’s not fair; Souji is already one of the best looking guys in Inaba. Yosuke knows it, can admit it now, because there really isn’t any way he couldn’t, what with the sheer number of admirers his partner has amassed, which also isn’t fair. To be forced to admit that Souji also makes one of the best looking girls Yosuke has ever seen is just downright cruel. He’s gorgeous.

Chapter 4: Dream About That Casual Touch

“I over communicate and feel too much, I just complicate it when I say too much. I laugh about it, dream about that casual touch. Sex is fire, I’m sick and tired of acting all tough.”

- (“Feelings”, Hayley Kiyoko)

October

 The noise level backstage is weird. Yosuke can hear the muffled sounds of the students out in the auditorium, the volume masking just how many people are actually there, waiting to see a bunch of guys forced into dresses against their will. Everything is just… bullshit. (He hates the girls so much right now; even if he does kind of deserve it after getting them all trapped in a similar boat.)

He scratches nervously at the sweater… vest… thing that Chie had given him to wear. It’s itchy. How come girls’ clothes are so uncomfortable? Are all girls’ clothes like this? He really hopes not. That would suck.

Speaking of suck, the backstage area is not a place Yosuke has ever been before but has quickly decided is not a place he ever wants to be again. It’s hot, it’s dark, and the only thing keeping any of them from tripping over shit and falling on their faces is the dull glow of the muted florescent bulbs spaced widely throughout the area, which really doesn’t do much of anything at all. Yosuke is pretty sure he’s going to run into something and break his nose. How the hell do the drama club kids do this on a regular basis?

For as narrow of a space as it is there are also way too many people in it for Yosuke to feel comfortable. Not that he’s exactly relaxed anyway, what with the itchy sweater thing and the skirt and the people waiting to see him in the sweater thing and the skirt. There’re a handful of theatre kids off to the side, wandering to and fro upon occasion, doing whatever it is theatre kids do behind the scenes. There’s also someone that looks like they might be a teacher over near the entrance (Yosuke admittedly didn’t look too hard), probably acting as some kind of half-assed supervisor.

Chie, Yukiko, and Rise were back here, too, some time ago, but Yosuke hasn’t seen them for a little while, so he thinks they may have gone off to do girl things or help set up. Either way, Yosuke is kind of glad they aren’t around right now. He thinks he might have also seen Naoto earlier for a scant few minutes, hovering near where a duffle bag now rests by the wall. They’d disappeared pretty quickly, though, so it could very well have been someone else.

And then of course there are the poor bastards about to be paraded out on stage for the rest of the school to gawk at. Yosuke sighs. He really hates everything right now; he’s stuffed into the most humiliating outfit he’s ever worn and the smells of the hair spray and fruity, nasty lipgloss Chie slathered all over his mouth are combining in his nose to give him the headache of the century. He feels sticky, jittery, and uncomfortable in not only every way physically possible, but also mentally. Fuck.

Off to the side, Kanji doesn’t look like he’s doing a whole hell of a lot better. Sure, he keeps pulling at his dress, holding the lower half of it out in front of him to stare at, turning it this way and that apparently just to watch it move, but Kanji is also the son of a seamstress, so that just makes sense. The dress aside, however, Kanji’s wig is cheap and he is clearly too tall for his outfit – too much leg and too unsteady in the ungodly-high heels he’s been forced to wear. Yosuke actually feels just the tiniest bit worse for Kanji than he does for himself; at least Yosuke’s shoes are flat.

Teddie, the runt, has apparently run off to parts unknown, spouting some excuse about keeping his look a “surprise.” Damn bear, Yosuke thinks. Teddie isn’t even a student here, there’s no punishment waiting for him should he decide to bail on them and he knows it. The only reason he’d even been signed up in the first place was because Teddie had begged and pleaded and whined until Yosuke finally put his name on the list with the rest of them. (The girls evidently did think about it but since the teachers wouldn’t even know who Teddie was, they’d figured it was impossible to make it stick if they did.)

But now the loud little mascot has vanished, leaving only the trio of Yosuke, Kanji, and Souji to face the proverbial guillotine.

Souji.

For what has to be the hundredth time in the last half hour, Yosuke glances over at where his partner stands silently in the darkest, farthest corner of the room.

Souji looks utterly lifeless. He stares at nothing, eyes dark and vacant in the crappy backstage lighting, standing stock-still and completely soundless. It’s almost like he’s not even there. Yosuke can’t blame him, really; he himself would be gone in a heartbeat if he thought he could manage to pull it off. Sadly, he hasn’t yet mastered whatever technique it is that has Souji so focused all the time – like, all the time – so Yosuke has no mental tricks of his own to help him escape his current situation.

Still though, the more Yosuke looks at him (and Yosuke has been catching himself looking a lot during these past 30 minutes,) the more he seems to notice about his best friend. He notices the way Souji’s long silver wig frames his face and makes it softer, more regal, (though Souji has always had a kind of imperial look to his features.) He notices how Souji seems to almost glow in the dim yellow light – washed out, wraith-like, monochromatic. He notices the way the deep charcoal of Souji’s uniform makes every tiny bit of visible skin stand out sharply in contrast.

He notices how it makes Souji looks like some kind of wandering apparition, moon-kissed and ethereal.

Yosuke looks away, shaking his head until he makes himself dizzy.

It’s not fair; Souji is already one of the best looking guys in Inaba. Yosuke knows it, can admit it now, because there really isn’t any way he couldn’t, what with the sheer number of admirers his partner has amassed, which also isn’t fair. To be forced to admit that Souji also makes one of the best looking girls Yosuke has ever seen is just downright cruel.

He’s gorgeous.

Yosuke shakes himself again and focuses on the way it makes his headache throb so he doesn’t have to wonder why his stomach is swooping like he’s in free-fall.

It’s so un-fucking-fair.

Everything just fits Souji better, too, seems to sit on his body like it was made to compliment him. The outfit, the wig, the swipe of color across his lips, it all looks almost uncannily natural on him in a way that Yosuke just can’t figure out. For a moment, if Yosuke didn’t know any better, he could almost imagine that the person in front of him is actually a girl.

And ohhh fuck, what a damn good looking girl he makes, too – the exact kind of girl Yosuke would be tripping over himself to hit on, and Yosuke curses his own damn brain for the confusion crackling through him right now. His hormones keep niggling at him, poking him, reminding him that he’s a teenaged boy and that he finds girls attractive, that he’s been sexually frustrated his entire high school life. Girlfriend? they whisper.

No! he hastily tries to correct them. Souji! Partner! BOY!!

Souji is a boy and his best friend and Yosuke shouldn’t be starting at him like he used to (used to? Past-tense?) stare at Rise and Yukiko and every other girl he ever thought was hot. He shouldn’t keep having to remind his breathing not to quicken or his face not to burn and what is happening here?

He bows his back and hunches over, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until little sparks of light start to form behind his eyelids. He groans.

The thing is, Souji isn’t even doing anything, just keeping to himself like a mannequin in a shop window. It’s almost creepy.

Actually, it’s… kind of concerning. Souji is a pretty quiet person in general, yeah, but usually he’s not this quiet, this still, this detached. Yosuke peeks out between his fingers and back over at his best friend, wondering suddenly if maybe something is wrong. Well, more wrong that everything already is.

Souji hasn’t moved so much as an inch since Yosuke looked at him last; his prop bokken is still slung over his shoulder like his katana in the TV world, his fingers clutching it so tightly they’re turning white beneath the shitty lamps. The only sign of life is the way he blinks every few seconds – something his body does without him telling it to, like breathing or pumping blood. If Souji is in there he’s somewhere very, very far away.

Yosuke wonders if he should go over there and check on him. He’d been so preoccupied feeling sorry for himself in his damn miniskirt that it hadn’t really occurred to him before now that his partner seems…

Yosuke glances at Kanji. His kohai is frowning down at the hunk of dress he’s got pinched between his fingers, apparently scrutinizing the quality of the fabric. He doesn’t look happy about cross-dressing, but he also doesn’t look like he’s left his body and faded into nothingness. Kanji looks similar to how Yosuke feels, pissed and uncomfortable with a “can we please get this over with?” kind of vibe around the set of his mouth. Souji, on the other hand, is a soulless doll.

Standing back up from his crouch, Yosuke allows himself to look over at Souji once more, this time staring deliberately to see if he can pick out anything that might give him a clue as to whether he should be worried or not. He flicks his eyes across Souji’s expressionless face, looks to the bone-colored fingers around the bokken, watches the (convincing) swell of Souji’s chest to make sure it still rises and falls with breath the way it should. His gaze drops then, to the gentle curve at Souji’s waist, accentuated by the cut of his uniform top. It travels downwards, past his partner’s hips, which seem fuller now, more prominent, thanks to how the waistband of the skirt cinches right above the jut of his hipbones. They look perfect, like they would be just the right shape to fit in Yosuke’s hands, just the right place to rest his palms, to gently pull and bring the two of them closer together until they were pressed hip to hip…

Yosuke’s mouth goes dry.

He whips his head back around like he’s been stung, heart suddenly pounding inside his chest so hard it nearly knocks him over. Guilt and something hot, tight, tingling settles low in his gut, mixing together into a wave of breathlessness that leaves him feeling like he’s just been caught doing something wrong.

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?!

This is Souji – he’d just been ogling Souji, had just been fantasizing about putting his hands on Souji. His best friend in the whole world, his partner. Yosuke sucks in air through his nose and tries to regulate his breathing, wiping his suddenly clammy hands down the sides of his skirt.

It has to be a fluke; they’re all dressed like girls and Yosuke has never so much as kissed a girl and his libido is confused because Souji’s costume looks way too real and oh my GOD. This is so stupid, he’s going to throttle whomever picked out their outfits.

“Hey uh, Yosuke-senpai? You don’t look so good.”

Yosuke is broken out of his thoughts with a sharp exhale. Looking over, he sees Kanji watching him with a curious expression, one thinned-down eyebrow quirked high. It takes Yosuke a second to react, to run Kanji’s words through his mind and actually understand them. Eventually though, he nods.

“Y-yeah,” he squeaks. He swallows against the dryness seeping down his throat, runs his tongue across his lips to wet them. “Yeah, I’m not really feelin’ too great right now.” He tries to give his kohai a weak laugh but it comes out instead as a wheeze. Kanji’s other brow goes up to join the first. Yosuke clears his throat and looks away. “It’s nothing, it’s just nerves.”

Kanji makes a sound of agreement. “I feel ya, Senpai, the waitin’s the worst. I kinda wish they’d just get started already.”

Yosuke tilts his head back and groans. “Or never start at all,” he says. “Just cancel it, let us go home. That’d be even better.” He lolls his head over – grimacing at the way the damn strawberry hair clip tugs at his scalp – just in time to see Kanji running the hem of his dress through his fingers again, a slight frown on his face.

“It’d almost be a waste’a time at this point, wouldn’t it?” Kanji asks, still staring at the white fabric in his hands. “Think they’d miss this?”

Confused, (but hey, textile shop, so whatever,) Yosuke is about to open his mouth and form a reply when suddenly there is the crackle of a microphone overhead, the speakers up above them humming to life. The lights backstage seem to dim even further until everything around them becomes nothing more than fuzzy outlines and indiscernible shapes. Great.

A voice Yosuke doesn’t recognize comes over the line, calling out a final sound check. There are more words, something that sounds like a greeting, but Yosuke doesn’t pay them any attention; he’s too busy suppressing the urge to flee and never look back. He springs upright, body locked into a stance of pure dread by his live-wire nerves. Beside him, in what remains of the light, he can see Kanji making a face that can only be summed up as, ‘oh for fuck’s sake’. Yosuke doesn’t think he’s ever felt a bigger connection to his teammate than in this one excruciating moment.

The announcer says more words through the speakers and Yosuke can feel himself start to vibrate with nervous energy. Yeah, he thinks, it would have been so much better if they had just canceled the whole damn thing. He’s so jittery, so absolutely fucking nervous, that he almost doesn’t notice someone stepping up beside him. Granted, the lights backstage are almost completely off right now, and the person that just apparently blinks into existence next to him is wearing really dark colors, but it still takes longer than it probably should for Yosuke to realize he now has someone on his left.

He startles when he does notice, though, and nearly jumps sideways into Kanji before he manages to stop himself. He’s got a pretty good handle on controlling the way his body moves by now – at least, he’d like to think he does – thanks to all the time spent fighting and training inside the TV. It’s kept him safe, kept him from doing stupid shit like knocking over his kohai, and it’s also what prevents him from instinctively slashing out at the figure beside him with a kunai that isn’t there.

It still takes him a stupid amount of time to recognize the shape of Souji standing beside him in the darkness.

“Shit, Partner,” he breathes, feeling his heart hammering away inside his ribs. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Souji doesn’t respond.

Yosuke fixes his center of gravity and leans in a little closer to his friend. ”Partner?” he calls, squinting against the lack of light. “Earth to Souji?” He reaches out a hand and waves it by Souji’s face.

No reaction.

That is… concerning. Yosuke gnaws at a part of his lower lip, teeth scraping the sticky, sickly-sweet lipgloss into his mouth where he winces at the taste. It doesn’t matter though; his friend is quite clearly not himself and with a limited amount of time and no privacy, Yosuke isn’t sure what to do here. Souji has never seemed to need anything from him before, always being the one to listen and help and console, but right now Yosuke’s partner is a million miles away and, not for the first time, Yosuke wishes he could be the helping friend for a change. Souji has always been there for him, even when he didn’t have to be; the least Yosuke could do in return is make sure his best friend isn’t silently having a stroke.

He just… doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Having real friends is hard.

Yosuke glances around, making sure there’s no one watching them (Kanji doesn’t count, he’s part of the team), before taking a hesitant step into Souji’s space and leaning in to try and see his face through the gloom. His partner stares straight ahead, eyes so dark in the low light that it almost looks like they aren’t there at all. Lifeless pools of empty blackness, holes in a featureless mask.

“Dude,” Yosuke whispers, growing more and more on-edge as the seconds pass and Souji still doesn’t return from wherever he is. “Partner, come on, you’re creeping me out here.”

Cacophony. The din of the audience comes two-fold back to them, both from the crowd itself and also its echo through the speakers. It grates at Yosuke’s ears. He grimaces, turning his attention away from his friend for just a few seconds to focus back in on what’s happening. Over on his right, Kanji makes an unhappy sound and clacks his way over to the curtain. In the marginally better lighter filtering in from the stage, Yosuke sees Kanji take a deep breath, square his shoulders, and stomp out into the sea of noise and people. Yosuke feels his stomach drop out.

There is a soft inhale from beside him. It sounds wet, like a gasp that nearly became a choke, quiet and unsteady. Yosuke turns towards it just in time to see Souji blinking like he’s just woken up from a particularly bad dream. Souji inhales again, just a shallow, just as shaky, and for a moment, in the dark, Yosuke thinks his partner might be trembling.

The MC is talking again, gearing up to call the next one of them out, and Yosuke knows that no matter which of them is called he only has a few more seconds to try and help his friend.

But he doesn’t know what to do. His options are severely limited due to space and dark and their rapidly dwindling time. All he can think of as the announcer calls his name over the speakers is to shoot his partner a worried look he isn’t sure Souji can even see. “Bro, Souji, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Souji whispers, and Yosuke doesn’t have time to decide if he believes him or not before someone – probably a drama kid – comes up behind him and practically shoves him out onto the stage.

  Souji disappears the moment the pageant is over and the four of them are released from their torment.

Well, three, technically, since Teddie still looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Yosuke tries to spot his partner backstage, to check on how he’s doing, but Souji must have something with Garudyne equipped because Yosuke swears he doesn’t even get a chance to blink before Souji is straight up gone. Their leader breezes from the stage wings, over to the wall, pulling off his wig as he goes and tossing it to a startled techie off to the side. In one seamless motion, Souji scoops up the duffle bag that maybe-Naoto left there earlier and strides out into the back hallway. Yosuke is left to weakly call out after him to no avail, all the while unable to follow because an exuberant Teddie decides right at that moment to bodily fling himself at Yosuke and latch on like a limpet. Yosuke contemplates prying the shoujo-anime-reject off him and tracking his partner down, but with as fast as Souji was walking, Yosuke knows it’s likely a lost cause at this point. He doesn’t feel like scouring the entire school.

Besides, he tells himself only barely convincingly, Souji must be fine now if he’s actually moving again. He’d been… better? possibly? while on stage – at least when Yosuke got a chance to sneak a look at him in between the humiliation and the public speaking. Souji had said his lines when his turn with the microphone came up and swung the bokken down like it was an extension of his arm, as fierce and fluid as he was with his sword. But… it had been… off, somehow. Just a little. Enough that Yosuke, who was so used to watching Souji, so used to studying him (out of awe and envy and very minor idolization, but hell if Yosuke would ever say that out loud,) had managed to pick up on it in the handful of seconds he’d had to work with.

Souji had moved with practiced ease – something Yosuke is sure took no real mental effort to accomplish. His words had been low, monotone, spoken like a robot, and as much as Yosuke is certain a lot of that is just how his partner is, he also hadn’t been able to stop his mind from conjuring up the image of a string-controlled puppet. An automated marionette with a database full of preprogrammed responses, picture-perfect in its humanity but cold and empty behind the eyes.

Yosuke shivers at the memory.

With no way of knowing just where Souji has run off to and with his costume starting to get more than a little claustrophobic, Yosuke finally just extracts himself from Teddie’s grip and starts off for the dressing rooms. He’ll go back, change his clothes, get the fucking makeup off his face, and wait until Souji decides he’s ready to rejoin them. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be fine after putting his normal clothes back on and Yosuke won’t even have to worry anymore.

Yeah, he thinks as he gathers up his (boy’s) uniform and starts tugging the hair tie from his head. His partner is probably fine, just eager to put the whole traumatizing pageant behind him like Yosuke is.

He lets the thought settle while he starts to change, repeating it over and over again to himself until he actually starts to believe it.

Everything’s fine.

  Everything is not fine.

Yosuke stares down at his phone screen, his brows furrowing so hard that it’s starting to hurt.

0 unread messages, it reads. Fuck.

He sighs heavily, the sound quickly turning into something long and drawn out, gravelly in the back of his throat. He rolls over onto his back on the bed and brings his hands up to cover his eyes, the phone face down and discarded on his chest. Souji hasn’t texted him back yet.

His partner had reappeared somewhere between the first time Yosuke had gone back to the classroom (after he finished changing), and the second time (after he’d been told by Rise that none of the girls had anything to take the makeup off with and he’d had to run back to the theatre students and ask them.) When Yosuke had finally made it back – albeit empty handed – he’d found Souji seated in one of the desks shoved up against the wall by the door, looking blotchy and drained.

He’d wanted to talk to Souji then, since at the time it had looked like his friend was mostly back to normal despite the clear exhaustion. In his exuberance over Souji magically producing a pack of makeup wipes from his bag, however, Yosuke had evidently lost his only remaining chance, as by the time he and Kanji were making their way back to the room (again), Souji had been leaving.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite right; Souji had been running. He’d come tearing out of the classroom as Yosuke and Kanji were coming up the hallway, hugging the doorframe as he exited and nearly slamming into the wall beside the door. Yosuke had nearly shouted in surprise, battle-born instinct kicking in and immediately trying to check for damage he’d been too far away to actually see. But before either he or Kanji could properly react beyond that, Souji had pushed off the wall and gone sprinting towards them, past them, away from them and down the hall to the stairwell, moving like the Reaper was two steps behind.

Yosuke slides his hands up into his hair and tugs until it stings. The sensation is sharp, grounding, it puts him back in the present, back in his bedroom at home with the sound of Teddie downstairs, pestering Yosuke’s mom to let him help with dinner. It keeps him from thinking about how absolutely shattered his partner’s expression had been for the brief second Yosuke had been able to see it as Souji dashed past. Brow furrowed as if in pain, eyes bright and frantic like dying stars, with deep-set lines around them, tight with tension. Yosuke didn’t even know Souji was capable of making that face.

He doesn’t like that Souji is.

It’s unsettling, first of all, to see their normally unshakable leader so visibly distressed. Souji is stoic at the best of times, even outside of combat, with expressions that don’t seem to change much but can make you warm and fluttery or pin you in place when they do. He’s like one of those optical illusion puzzles – twist one line around his mouth, make one minute shift in detail, and Souji goes from soft and kind to stone and fury. It’s what makes him the perfect Commander in the TV world, the best kind of Best Friend outside it, and to see him so drastically different leaves Yosuke reeling.

But on a more personal level, looking past just the obvious physical change, it’s terrifying. For something to have messed with Souji so badly as to warp his carefully controlled expression into that…

Yosuke feels the curling self-doubt start to take root in his mind. Something had clearly been bothering Souji for most of the day, and Yosuke – who is supposed to be Souji’s friend, his equal, his partner – wasn’t able to do anything about it. He’d missed his chance, taken too long to act, and whatever Souji had been dealing with had escalated to the point of boiling over, leaving Yosuke to gawk stupidly while the best friend he’d ever had tore through the stairwell door like he was dying.

Yosuke is faced with two very heavy realizations because of this. First, that Souji is, in fact, shakable. And second, that Yosuke was genuinely stunned to learn this first fact, which implies a lot about his mindset that Yosuke doesn’t like. Maybe he’s just as guilty as the rest of the town about putting Souji up on a pedestal. He thought he wasn’t; he doesn’t like knowing he might have been wrong.

He lets out another sigh and stares up at his ceiling. He feels so useless right now; his friend was hurting, might still be hurting, and no one knows where Souji is or what happened to make him bolt. Yosuke checks his phone again. Still nothing.

GOD!

With a noise of frustration, Yosuke heaves himself upright and tosses his phone to the end of the bed. He hates this so much! To be stuck here not able to do anything or even know where to begin – if only Souji would answer him, answer somebody! Yosuke keeps checking with the others, every thirty minutes or so, and he’d forced himself to wait that long, even, as he figured no one would like him much if he just kept badgering them. Not that checking every five seconds would change anything. Besides, he has to keep reminding himself to trust his friends, to trust that they’ll spread the news as soon as someone hears from him, gets word, spots him, anything.

(The thought that Souji might contact one of the others first leaves an odd sort of clenching feeling in Yosuke’s chest that he doesn’t really want to think about right now.)

I should have gone after him.

For the millionth time that evening, Yosuke mentally kicks himself for all the things he should have done differently – knowing full well the hindsight won’t help, but being unable to do anything productive leaves him with nothing else. He should have run after Souji when his partner had sped by him, should have followed, should have tried to catch him. Instead, Yosuke had stared after him in shock, only spurring his feet to move long after Souji had vanished through the stairwell door. By the time Yosuke had finally reacted, Souji had seemingly evaporated, leaving behind only a visibly rattled Naoto near the middle of the stairs.

“I-I don’t know where he went.” Naoto had said when Yosuke had frantically asked if they’d seen his partner. They’d been trembling, just slightly, bracing their weight on the stair rail with one arm and holding themself with the other, tight and close like they could hold in the minute tremors if they squeezed hard enough.

Yosuke doesn’t think he’s seen them that distressed since they’d faced their own shadow. For both Souji and Naoto to be so freaked at the same time is nearly incomprehensible to Yosuke. It scares him.

There had been almost no time to search after all of that, either, only about fifteen precious minutes to run through the halls in a vain attempt at spotting the familiar silver of Souji’s hair before the girls (and Naoto) were called away to get ready for their own pageant hell. Kanji and Naoto had split up to help him search before Naoto had had to leave them; Yosuke hadn’t wanted to frighten the others. Instead, he’d stamped down his jitters as best he could and asked them if they knew where Souji had gone, had they seen him, had he come back to the room at all? All anyone had known was that Souji had apparently stood up, very quickly, mumbled an “excuse me”, and strode from the room like the rapids in a river, gathering speed as he went until he’d swung himself around the doorframe without so much as pausing. Polite to the end, even while moments away from slamming into a wall and taking off down the hallway like a shot.

They’d all been worried, obviously, especially Teddie, who’d apparently been clinging to him at the time, but it was only after the second pageant was over that the concern about Souji’s absence and failure to return really started to show on everyone’s faces. They’d all talked, voices hushed and heads together like they were plotting back at the Junes food court, about going to search for their leader, their friend, but the rooms had to be cleaned up, the last of the decorations packed away, and by the time they could all leave the sun had begun to set.

Which left Yosuke back at the present point, hands empty and head too full.

He wondered if he could possibly sneak out, go check the Dojima residence before his parents even knew—but no. No, it would take too long and Teddie would notice first and whine and tell Yosuke’s mom, and even if Yosuke managed to get there what would he do if Souji wasn’t at home? He’d risk scaring Nanako, risk running into Dojima-san. The whole thing would have the potential to go so horribly, horribly sideways and blow up into something messy and tangled. He doesn’t want to get Souji in trouble, doesn’t want to frighten Nanako, doesn’t want to get grounded for sneaking out when he’s supposed to be home because his mom wants to have a rare family dinner together while no one is on shift.

Sending a silent ‘pleasepleaseplease’ to anyone, anything that might be listening, Yosuke fishes his phone back out from the covers at the foot of his bed and checks the screen.

0 unread messages.

Yosuke thinks he might be going insane.

Opening his contact list, Yosuke pulls up Souji’s number at stares at it. He’s called so many times, left so many messages – each one left unanswered, unread. It would be one thing if Souji were seeing them and just not responding. (It would be a bad, hurtful, worrying thing, but one thing on its own.) It’s a completely different thing for Souji to not be reading them at all.

Maybe he lost his phone or it ran out of battery, maybe he’ll call back after it’s finished charging. Or maybe something happened and Souji’s lying unconscious in an alley somewhere, unable to move let alone check his texts.

Yosuke shakes himself. No, he can’t think that. He’s not ready to think about that, despite how much his mounting anxiety might want him to. He needs to trust Souji, have faith that Souji will be alright, that he can handle himself like he does in the TV if anything happens. But Souji is human, just like the rest of them, and no amount of power, no army of personae will help outside in the real world. Car accidents can happen, kidnappings can happen – do happen, were happening – and all of it possible without a warning or chance to fight back.

He’s already hit the call button by the time he breaks that chain of thought.

The line rings and rings and rings, the sound like a failing heartbeat in Yosuke’s ear. There is a click, a pause, a familiar robotic voice telling him he’s reached the voicemail box of “Seta Souij” and to leave a message after the tone.

Yosuke’s stomach drops. He didn’t think it could get any lower.

“Partner, hey,” he says into the phone, not even bothering to keep the waver from his voice. He’d done so well the first couple of times; he’s stretched too thinly to do it now. “It’s me. Again….” Something wet trickles down his cheek; he makes no move to wipe it away. This is dumb, he’s being dumb, but he doesn’t know what to do right now. Souji has always been the stronger one, the Leader, the rock that holds everything in place when shit keeps going wrong. For all Yosuke tries to match him stride for stride, he knows, in the dark, dusty place where he keeps the rest of his insecurities, that he’s too different from Souji to ever be like him.

He can’t find Souji, can’t get hold of him, can’t help him, and it’s a blow that Yosuke isn’t sure he can recover from any time soon. Souji would know what to do but that’s the problem: Souji isn’t here. Yosuke is left to try and navigate this foreign situation all on his own. He’s used to being second-in-command, even if he’s never really needed to play the “command” role; taking over as default leader while Souji is missing isn’t something Yosuke was ready to do. Even if there’s no longer an investigation to head, even if his partner’s disappearance wasn’t a kidnapping (he hopes), if Souji doesn’t show up soon it will fall on Yosuke’s shoulders to lead the team to find him. Especially if it turns out Souji is nowhere to be found outside the TV.

He chides himself for being so utterly unprepared.

Yosuke licks at his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth to chew at for a second as he thinks of something else to say that he hasn’t already said before. “Listen… it’s been hours. Where are you?” He pauses, sucks in a watery breath. “I’m really freaked right now, okay? I swear to god, if you just forgot to turn your phone on or something…” His voice catches as a tide of something hot and suffocating washes over him, up his chest, his throat, into the back of his mouth where it chokes him and traps his words behind his teeth He pauses again to swallow it down. “Souji, please. Please call me back, let me know you’re okay. You’re my best fucking friend, let me help—“

“Your message could not be recorded because this mailbox is now full. Please try your call again later.”

With a desperate, angry growl, Yosuke yanks his phone away from his ear and throws it viciously down against the mattress. It bounces off the comforter, falling and landing with a muted ‘thunk’ somewhere out of sight in the dark below the bed. He doesn’t go looking for it; he just lets it lay wherever it’s fallen and turns to bury his face in his pillow, fighting back the molten surge of tears until Teddie’s voice shouts up at him that it’s time for dinner.

He barely says a thing the rest of the night.

 ---

 Yosuke sleeps poorly, waking with a knotted stomach and a tight feeling gripping at the inside of his skull.

The house is quiet, eerily so, and in his blearily state it takes Yosuke a few groggy minutes to piece together the reason why. Teddie is still asleep; Yosuke can hear the bear’s thin, wheezy snoring from inside his closet, which is strange because usually Teddie is a bundle of energy from the moment Yosuke’s alarm goes off. Half the time, Teddie acts as his second alarm after Yosuke tries hitting the snooze for the third time in a row, jumping onto Yosuke’s bed and tackling him in a “good morning hug.” Today, though, it seems that Yosuke has woken up well before his alarm is set to wake him. He doesn’t really know how that’s possible, considering he hadn’t managed to fall asleep until well after midnight, but somehow he’s awake before the rest of the household (provided his parents haven’t already gone in to work), and he doesn’t think he could get back to sleep even if he tried.

There are no new messages on his phone. Yosuke already hates today.

Still half in a daze, he turns off his alarm and makes his way quietly around the room to gather up the pieces of his uniform. He changes in the bathroom where he can see and the light won’t reach the slumbering bear back in his room. Were it another day he would wake Teddie up or just leave the alarm set for him, but Yosuke is painfully aware that Teddie has the after-school shift with him tonight and doesn’t even need to be awake until later in the afternoon.

He wanders downstairs and halfheartedly makes the quickest, most basic breakfast he can possibly make – which honestly isn’t any different than any other breakfast he makes for himself. There’s a little bit of the leftovers from last night’s dinner still tucked away in the fridge, but he leaves it be. Yosuke may know next to nothing about cooking but Teddie knows even less, and while he’d never admit it aloud, Yosuke is not so annoyed with Teddie’s existence that he wants the poor guy to go hungry. He also knows that Teddie gets lonely without him around and likely won’t be happy that Yosuke didn’t wake him up to say goodbye before leaving. He’s already prepared for the pouty earful the bear will have in store for him at work, but for the moment, Yosuke is willing to settle for an egg and toast for himself in order to leave his pseudo-brother with an edible peace offering. Maybe he’ll give Ted a call at lunch to make him feel better. (If only to save himself from being clung to by a living carnival prize later on.)

He sits at the counter and stares at his phone while he eats without tasting. No new messages. He dumps the uneaten half of his toast into the trash.

Time passes at a crawl, and while Yosuke is too frazzled to try and nap on the couch until he needs to leave, he also can’t seem to wake up any further. The exhaustion from yesterday still sticks to him, weighs him down like a thick blanket of dread. The feeling of uselessness, of not knowing what to do with himself or how to help still sits deep within his bones. The longer he stays idle, the more anxious his mind grows, despite the way his eyes itch like he hasn’t slept in a month. The runny egg and half slice of burnt bread sit weirdly in his stomach.

He’s debating on whether he wants to just leave a little early and possibly stake out Souji’s house – because hey, might as well – when his phone finally, finally buzzes. Yosuke nearly drops it in his haste to get it out of his pocket, catching his fingernail on the seam of his jeans and bending it far enough to make it sting. All the while the phone continues to buzz, vibrating every couple of seconds as each new notification comes through. It takes him a minute, but he manages to extract the device from his pocket, ignoring the way his finger is throbbing.

He doesn’t even bother checking the notifications flashing up at him from the screen, he just goes straight to his messages and desperately hopes that at least one of them is from Souji.

None of them are.

Instead, there are a handful of texts from Naoto, all sent to the entire Investigation Team like the big-ass group chat they never got around to making.

 Detc Prince: JUST SPOKE 2 SOUJI-SENPAI

Dect Prince: HE IS SAFE AT HOME & HAS BEEN THERE SINCE LAST NIGHT

Detc Prince: EVIDENTLY HE PASSED OUT & SLEPT 12 HOURS. JUST NOW WOKE UP.

Detc Prince: HE SAYS HE IS SORRY 4 SCARING US. HE ALSO WONT B AT SCHOOL 2DAY

Detc Prince: VIOLENTLY ILL YESTERDAY BUT BETTER NOW. LEFT AFTER GETTING SICK

 Yosuke stares down at his phone in confusion.

No, that’s… wrong.

He stands dumbly in the kitchen, in the quiet, morning-dark house, with his phone in his hands and a furrowed brow and tries to piece together this story with his own from the day before. He’s foggy-headed still, sleepy and jacked all at the same time, but even if he were wide-awake he knows that something would be off.

Souji had been running down the hall like he was terrified. He’d blown past Yosuke and Kanji with the speed of someone deeply afraid (which Yosuke recognizes from their first few adventures into the TV world, back when everything was still new to them all), not of someone about to throw up. His partner had rocketed away from him almost too quickly to catch his expression, but Yosuke knows how to look at Souji, knows how to check for tells, how to read his commander, his best friend, and pick up on Souji’s signals. It’s how they fight side-by-side in the dungeons, when Yosuke has his headphones blaring and their soft-spoken leader needs to guide them all through battle. Yosuke knows Souji – and those weren’t the eyes of “let me by, I have to hurl.”

Souji’s eyes had been wide and frightened, laced with sorrow and the same kind of desperate mania that so many of their friends had worn as they faced down their shadows.

Yosuke feels the breakfast in his stomach turn over on itself. He doesn’t like this. Yosuke had watched Souji disappear through the door to the stairs, not towards the bathroom like anyone feeling nauseas would do, so unless Souji had been heading for another floor to go throw up then he would have had to have gotten sick before even coming back to the classroom. Which would mean his sprint down the hall was something else entirely. Not only that, but Yosuke knows for a fact that Souji passed Naoto on the stairs, which meant he’d been heading downward and well away from any of the closest or even second closest toilets. If he’d left right after he’d thrown up, then Souji should have either not been running like Chie had offered to make lunch and instead been dragging himself out the door, or he should have been running to a bathroom and then leaving.

Nothing in the time frame adds up, and the resulting implications leave Yosuke floundering. His head goes around and around in circles, wanting to believe Naoto’s texts that Souji is okay, that he just got really, really sick and had to go home. But Yosuke has spent literal months now learning to think critically, to look at inconsistencies and pick them apart, and while he’s no Naoto when it comes to mysteries he would like to think he could spot when something is clearly not right when it comes to his best friend.

He’s aware that Naoto could have just given them the absolute minimum information and that there is a longer explanation waiting for them all when they get to school. However, Naoto had been just as visibly rattled as Yosuke had felt when he’d found them in the stairwell, which is hard for Yosuke to explain away with his current lack of insight. The fact that they’d had no clue where Souji had gone, and had even helped Yosuke look for him leaves another gap in their short span of time where everything could have happened.

He doesn’t want to think that Naoto is lying. He absolutely doesn’t want to think that Souji is.

But there’s nothing Yosuke can do without more information, and he isn’t going to get that just standing around. Gritting his teeth, he stamps down on the rising tide of dark thoughts and nebulous feelings. He doesn’t want to face any of it, doesn’t want to think about what some of his theories might imply. He also doesn’t want to look too deeply at his own reactions to this, because it means he’s either wildly overacting or that something is genuinely amiss. A lapse back into his old clingy, annoying, friendless self, or his best friend potentially being hurt or hiding something. Neither option is comforting.

The clock above the counter tells him he needs to leave now to get to school without a rush. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and grabs his bag and forcibly tries to keep his mind from reaching further and further into the place where his anxiety dwells. His thoughts are carefully blank as he shuffles his way over to the door and opens it on the dull light of the morning sky. He blinks against the brightness, standing still in the entryway for a moment until he can make his vision settle and his nervous pulse subside.

Outside his house is like a different world; the broken dawn is pink and burnt gold and it casts everything in its wake in a weirdly yellow glow. There are birds somewhere in the distance, chirping sporadically like they, too, have no idea how to be awake at this hour. It’s a stark contract to the quiet, sleepy dark back inside Yosuke’s kitchen.

As he finally works up the will to start his trek, Yosuke takes a second to glance at his reflection in the mirror his mother had insisted on hanging in the entryway when they’d moved in, to “make sure everyone looks their best before facing the day”. What stares back at him is a pale, jittery-looking version of himself, with deep blue circles beneath his eyes and hair that clearly hasn’t seen a comb in far too long. He grimaces at how wan he looks, at the exhaustion etched into his skin along with the worry lines now marring his forehead.

He leaves the house quickly, not wanting to look at himself anymore or give his brain a long enough pause to start thinking again. As he closes the door behind him he tells himself that the shiver he got from his reflection’s sightless stare is just the lack of sleep, and that it was only the light from the sun along the horizon that tinted the world and made his eyes look a sickly shade of gold.

  Naoto does not, in fact, give them any new information once everyone is gathered at school. Yosuke talks to Yukiko and Chie for a minute or so before classes start to see if they know or have heard anything he might have missed. They don’t, and after Chie tells him he looks like shit (to which he only gives a half-hearted retort because honestly, she’s right) they confirm that they didn’t get a chance to catch Naoto in person that morning, either.

The school day begins and Yosuke barely pays attention. He keeps glancing forlornly at Souji’s empty desk, sneaking peeks at his phone under his own. There are a few extra texts from the others in the group text, mostly reactionary exclamations, a flurry of sad emojis from Rise to go with her “Oh no! Poor Senpai!” but no one seems inclined to press Naoto for more details. He gets it to some degree; no one else but Kanji saw Souji’s escape down the hallway and only Naoto passed him on the stairs, so the only other person that might ask besides Yosuke would be Kanji, and Kanji didn’t seem to notice what Yosuke did. So no one asks.

Yosuke sends a mass text of his own, asking for everyone to meet up during lunch. He words it as well as he can, trying to hide behind the reasoning that they had all been worried about Souji and playing off the fact that Souji apparently hasn’t contacted anyone else so could Naoto fill them in on what all Souji said to them, please? Everyone agrees, though some take longer to respond than others due to classes and Naoto takes their time replying until they’re the last one to do so. Yosuke tries not to make anything of it.

He can’t tell if he succeeds.

Teddie messages him around late morning, sending Yosuke a string of whiny texts and a few teary emojis, just as Yosuke had predicted he would. Yosuke responds with a short “srry ted I was letting u sleep” and “leftovers r urs”, which earns him a few more pout emojis before Teddie evidently forgives him. It’s a minor distraction, but one that Yosuke is grateful for nonetheless. His interaction with Teddie feel normal, routine, like Yosuke’s entire world hasn’t been a total mess for the past 24 hours. He makes a mental note to buy the bear a box of his favorite topsicles – both as a way to cheer him up after waking to an empty house and also as a thank you so that Yosuke doesn’t have to do it out loud and get stuck explaining his mental state.

When lunch finally hits, Yosuke and Chie and Yukiko all head off to the roof together to meet up with the rest of the team – minus their leader and living plush-doll of a mascot. Naoto is already there by the time the rest of them arrive. They look tired; there is a thinness to their mouth, a glassiness to their eyes that speaks of a night spent just as sleepless as Yosuke. He remembers how scared they’d looked the day before after Souji had disappeared, the deep, quiet fear that had lit them from within and made Yosuke think of an animal cornered at night, eyeshine bright and unnerving.

Nothing about any of this makes sense.

Naoto greets them; they all settle in. It takes up a good chunk of the lunch period for Naoto to basically rehash everything they’d said via text: that Souji had suddenly gotten violently ill in between the pageants, that they suspected it might be either food poisoning or “an acute bout of nerves”, that Souji had run off to go get sick and then gone straight home. That Souji had passed out and slept until that morning right before school and had called Naoto back after they’d messaged him again. That Souji was feeling better but not 100% still.

And the whole time they’re telling the story, Yosuke bites at his lips and feels his frown growing deeper and deeper.

He still doesn’t like the way the timeline of events just doesn’t seem to match up in a way that doesn’t have holes, no matter how he tries to fit the pieces together. The larger picture is fine, sure, but it’s the little things, the snags in time, the long stretch of silence and sudden explanation. There are just too many of them and Yosuke collects them in his head one after another and moves them around trying to find a way to match them up. His head is starting to hurt by the time Naoto finishes.

Everyone goes around and offers their sentiments as if Souji is there to hear them. They talk about going over to check on him after school but Naoto seems to think it won’t be necessary.

“Souji-senpai is most likely resting,” Naoto says. “Too many people all at once without warning could be detrimental.” They awkwardly shift their weight, tugging on their cap the way they do when they want to hide their face but also don’t want to be perceived as weak for showing their nervousness. Yosuke notes how they don’t look directly at anyone when they continue speaking.

“However, seeing as Senpai is – or was – awake and aware this morning of our attempts to contact him, I would say we should message him if we do plan on visiting. I’m certain he would appreciate the heads up, especially if he still isn’t feeling well.”

Everybody voices their agreement (and in the case of Rise, their obviously crush-tinted disappointment,) and even Yosuke has to admit that Naoto makes a good point. It still sits oddly in his chest, though. He curses his work schedule; he would absolutely be visiting Souji at home after school if he didn’t have to go in for a long night of stocking shelves. No matter how good a point Naoto may have made, Souji is missing a day of classes and no one could begrudge Souji’s best friend for taking him some notes, right?

Yosuke sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose when no one is looking.

After that is a whole lot of nothing. There is eating, some more discussion, (mostly about Souji but still nothing relevant to Yosuke’s mess of questions) and a bunch of texts all sent out to wish Souji a speedy recovery. None of them receives a reply, but it’s also entirely possible that Souji is doing exactly as Naoto said and resting. Yosuke hopes so.

Sadly, and to his understandable irritation, he doesn’t get a chance to ask Naoto any of the more in-depth questions he’d wanted to ask before the end of lunch sneaks up on them. The group begins to split up then, with Naoto somehow being the first one through the door back inside, robbing Yosuke of what is probably his final chance of the day.

Truth be told, Yosuke knows it’s partially his own fault. Rather than just squaring up and asking what he wanted to, he’d been stalling, waiting for a turn in the conversation to give him the answers he’d wanted without actually asking. He admits it to himself – albeit begrudgingly – because he’s seen first hand what happens when he doesn’t, and acknowledges that he’s afraid. Afraid of being proven wrong and thus having overreacted like the clingy idiot he knows he’s capable of being. Or worse, being proven right and having to deal with the knowledge that either his teammate or his leader or both are keeping him in the dark. It would be a chain reaction at that point, one fear being affirmed leading to another one – one that Yosuke only lets himself think about when he absolutely has to, at his lowest and wide awake at 2:00am with his mind way too loud and full, to keep it from spawning another shadow.

Do I matter?

Chie kicks him gently (“gently”) in the butt to get him moving since he’s apparently just been standing there staring after Naoto. He lets her and Yukiko drag him back to the classroom and ignores the silent conversation that seems to pass between the two of them behind his back. He also ignores the strange way that Rise follows him with her eyes, a funny, down-turned expression settling on her features that he’s never seen before.

The day continues, the teachers drone, and Yosuke sits staring inconspicuously as possible down at his phone screen. A response to his previous slew of worried texts never comes, and no matter how he tries, Yosuke feels too many things too deeply and at once to be able to send any new ones just yet. He types and deletes what has to be a dozen aborted questions, shallow-seeming “get well soon”s, and by the time the day is over he’s still stuck at square one, eyes strained from staring at the glare of his screen for so long.

He trudges down to the shoe lockers, head still hurting, when the final bell sounds and resigns himself to waiting until after his shift to think of something to say to his partner that doesn’t sound stupid or needy or paranoid.

In the end his anxiety silences him completely, stilling his fingers and leaving the “how ru feelin prtnr? u comin 2 school 2mrrw?” hovering in the text bar on his screen unsent.

 ---

 “Yosuke…”

Warm hands, fingers ghosting over skin, over planes of muscle, dipping into the line where waist meets hips. Breath catching, stuttering in a flat, toned chest, a hot exhale against his cheek as blunted nails dig into his shoulders, holding him in place. The taste of salt, of skin beneath his tongue, fresh like rain and sharp like ozone. A pulse like distant thunder under his mouth. He presses forward, closer, tighter, shifts his knee to press it between shaking legs, holds them steady with his hands and feels the flex of thighs under his palms.

Hips grind against him. Lips catch at his, kissing, parting, giving him room to slide his tongue inside. He pulls back and nips at them, drawing the bottom one, plush and sweet, between his teeth before pressing back in and licking them apart.

Hands glide lower, inward, touching, teasing, tugging at fabric and pulling it open, down, fingertips running hot across a band of elastic before slipping inside. A trail of kisses across a sharp jaw. Teeth grazing skin, sucking, biting, leaving little marks of purple in their wake. A gasp, a groan, a throaty sound of need and pleasure as he laves his tongue back over the pulse point, sending vibrations through another chest and into his own. Heat beneath his fingers, a tightness deep below his hips.

"Yosuke please…”

He pushes his knee in further, scratches his nails along soft thighs, taut like velvet over steel. Hips roll to meet his hand; his palm meets warm flesh, brushes over it, presses the heel of his hand down to elicit another halted breath, another ragged whisper of his name. A body clinging to his own, hot and slick and trembling, fingers fisting in his hair, skin on skin on skin on skin, moving to a rhythm he sets, slow and wicked. He bites a collarbone and the arms around him tighten, the long line of a pale throat exposed as lips fall open in a moan and a head tilts back, hands pulling him closer, clutching, panting, shaking.

“Partner!”

 Yosuke sits bolt upright in bed, heart pounding against the inside of his ribs like it’s trying to break free.

For a moment he doesn’t know where he is; his bedroom is dark and unfamiliar in its witching-hour silence with only the quiet snoring from his closet to break it. The faint glow of his phone charging beside the bed becomes his grounding point and he stares at it until his mind clears enough to refocus on his surroundings. Alone. He’s alone, there’s no one in his bed but him. He’s in his room and he’s alone in his bed – no hips beneath his hands, no skin against his lips. No breathy voice in his ear whispering how good his touch feels, murmuring his name, spurring him on.

Oh god.

Yosuke shivers at the memory, at the phantom image of someone warm and solid arcing against him. Something aches low in his gut and he realizes with a burning face just how painfully hard he is. He feels it throbbing between his legs like a bruise and bites his lip to stamp down a desperate whine.

Alone, I’m alone, it was just a dream, I’m alone…

But Yosuke can still feel he pressure of another body against his own. He can still feel everything: the fingers in his hair, the legs around his hips, the stretch of an elastic waistband across the back of his wrist as if he’s delved his hand below someone’s boxers. He feels all of it. He can still taste another tongue when he swipes his across his lips, still tingling like he’s just been kissed, is still leaving hickies on his best friend’s throat—

Yosuke slaps a hand over his mouth to mask the heavy, raspy sound of his own too-thin breathing. It burns in his lungs, breaths too deep but air too dry and it feels like he isn’t getting any oxygen at all. Sweat beads along his hairline, at the nape of his neck, and when he parts his lips to try and breathe through his mouth he can taste the telltale salt of it across his clammy palm.

Souji. He’d just had a sex dream about Souji.

His best friend, his partner, their goddamn leader. Yosuke feels the rush of adrenaline as it washes through him in a wave, leaving his limbs cold and trembling like he’s just been dunked in ice water. The slow creep of panic itches at his nerves. He doesn’t know what to do; what is he supposed to do? How in the ever-loving fuck is he meant to process the fact that he’s just had the single most intense sex dream of his entire life and it was about another guy?

And not just any guy – he’s just had a sex dream about his best. Fucking. Friend.

There is a twitch and throb between his thighs and Yosuke thinks he might actually start crying.

He swallows, weak and useless against the dryness in his throat, and bites at his tongue until he tastes the coppery tang of his own blood. He’s dizzy. Dizzy and confused and scared to death and back, but…

But.

But he can’t ignore how hard he is. He can’t ignore that everything in his dream was amazing, that it left him aching and needy and wishing he could slow his speeding heart and go back to sleep, just so he could return to the feeling of dream-Souji pulling him closer as he came over Yosuke’s hand.

“…Fuck.”

The sound of his own voice – while barely a whisper – still startles Yosuke in the near-perfect quiet of the room. It’s high and desperate, absolutely wrecked like it hasn’t been since he faced his shadow. Expect this time it isn’t fear lacing the single word that’s slipped from his mouth. It’s desire.

Without really thinking, Yosuke throws off the covers as quietly as he can and disentangles himself from the bed. He stares at the closet door like a feral, frightened cat, watching for any sign that Teddie has heard him. When nothing happens, Yosuke moves.

He creeps over to the door, pausing only to grab a pair of underwear from the floor as he goes. He doesn’t even know if they’re clean, doesn’t even care; right now he just needs something to take with him that isn’t what he’s wearing right now. He can feel the sweat sinking in to his shirt, the waist of his sleep pants – which is bad enough – but worst of all is how he can feel the sticky-slick patch of precum starting to seep into his boxers.

On shaky legs, Yosuke makes his way out the door and down the hall towards the bathroom. He goes as silently as he can, taking care to avoid the spots in the floor that he knows are prone to creaking, reaching out to steady himself against the wall whenever his knees start to buckle. It’s slow going. His erection makes it hard to walk without hissing through his teeth, and with every passing second he can hear the way his heart hammers inside his chest – so loud he thinks that Teddie must have been deaf not to hear it.

He reaches the bathroom after what feels like eons, thankful it’s been left open so the tiny nightlight in the hall can lead sleep-foggy people to it in the middle of the night. (Or in this case, a jittery teenager.) He slides inside like he’s afraid someone will be waiting for him just past where the light reaches and shuts the door behind him with a muffled click, locking it the moment that it’s closed.

He passes by the mirror on his way to the shower and pointedly does not look.

Cranking the cold water up as high as it will go, not even touching the hot, Yosuke stares at the frigid cascade like it can possibly save him. Sometimes, when his dreams turn dirty with short skirts and breathy panting straight from the porn he keeps hidden in a special folder on his computer, Yosuke is able to will the resulting arousal away. He’s lucky – he hasn’t woken up to an unexpected mess in his boxers since before his family moved. He still gets hard in his sleep though, sometimes; usually he’s able to just think of the shadows in the TV world and roll over onto his stomach to flush the images from his mind. He wakes slightly irritable, but at least he’s able to sleep.

Tonight though, he knows there’s no hope. With all the slowness of a man facing his execution, Yosuke peels off the sweat-covered t-shirt and sweatpants, tossing them into the corner to retrieve later. He sets the second pair of underwear over to the side and gingerly begins the process of slipping off the ones he’s wearing.

It’s a nightmare. Each drag of fabric over his electrified skin is like torture, leaving him off-kilter and gritting his teeth against the over stimulation. He nearly falls over as he tries to maneuver them past his dick, which is still so abysmally hard that it’s a miracle he made it from his bedroom without passing out due to poor circulation. He stifles a pained noise as the chilly air outside his boxers hits his overheated flesh, clamping his lips together and biting down until it hurts. The cold water is going to suck.

He steps into the shower and immediately hates everything.

Fighting back another sound of dismay, Yosuke lets the icy stream pour over him, jolting him to full wakefulness and sending an instant, violent shiver through his entire body. He stands there with his arms crossed futilely over his chest, instinctively trying to hold in what little body heat he can, even as he wills the water to just freeze his burning blood and make it so he can go back to bed before his alarm goes off for school.

This sucks. Everything sucks. He’s awake at stupid-o-clock in the morning with a boner that won’t go away and the sound of his best friend’s moaning playing over and over again in his ears like a looping, skipping record. He hates the way it makes his stomach swoop like he’s flying, makes his skin prickle like he swell of lightning before it strikes; it scares him, he shouldn’t be feeling this. Instead of desperate and turned on, secretly wishing the dream had been longer, he should be sick, put off, angry. He should be disgusted about the way the dream has made his heart race and his fingers itch to touch, to feel, the way he keeps licking at his lower lip as if hoping the taste of Souji’s kiss still lingers in the waking world. But he’s not. The only disgust he feels is at himself and the way he cannot lie away the fact that he liked it. He’s more afraid of how wrong it didn’t feel than by how right it did.

Yosuke shakes his head and fists a hand through his wet hair, trying to pull the feel of Souji from his memory.

Minutes pass and his arousal doesn’t flag. The cold digs into his skin like needles, numbing everything it touches and leaving him shuddering in the absence of warmth. The contrast of the chill against the heat of his body is almost painful – like a gust of winter wind over a feverish throat – and even the numbness the water brings isn’t enough to completely drown out the feeling. Yet still his erection persists.

With a groan of defeat, Yosuke reaches over and twists the knob for the hot water, turning the cold down a little as he does, and then wisely steps back out of the spray. He waits, shivering, holding his hand under the showerhead until his body can tolerate the change in temperature without feeling like he’s being scalded, although at this point he’s almost desperate enough to consider it. Maybe if he turns it up to boiling he can strip the image of dream-Souji pinned beneath him from his mind.

He steps back under the water, wincing slightly at the feel of heat on his frozen skin. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, goddamnit! He leans forward and rests his head against the wall just under the showerhead, feeling the rush of water trickle across his shoulders as he lets the frustrated burn behind his eyes crest and fade. He can’t do this. He can’t. Vision blurring in the droplets running down his face, Yosuke reaches a shaking hand down and curling his still-numb fingers around himself. He hisses at the contact, knees almost giving out at the rush of feeling just that simple action elicits.

FUCK.

Giving in, Yosuke takes a second to reach for the bottle of conditioner just off to the side and takes two pumps into his hand. He slides his fingers through it, smearing it across his palm as best he’s able, before wrapping his hand back around himself. He takes a deep breath and starts to stroke.

He forgoes all preamble, any technique he would normally employ, any trick he’d use to draw it out, he tosses them all to the back of his mind. It’s not even about pleasure right now; it’s about relief. He’s so agonizingly turned on that he just wants this over, just wants it to go away so he can go back to sleep and pretend this never happened. He doesn’t think about how he’s going to act around his partner whenever Souji shows back up at school – he tries not to think at all.

He brings his other arm up to brace him against the tiled shower wall above his head, spreading his legs a little to widen his stance and keep from falling. He closes his eyes against the stark white of the tile, too bright in the overhead lighting and too close to his face. He tightens his grip.

It works to take the edge off – the slow slide of his fist over his length, helped by the conditioner – but it’s not enough. He quickens his pace, rubs the pad of his thumb under the head. It helps, but it’s not enough.

Gritting his teeth, Yosuke delves deep into his memory and tries to conjure up images from some of his favorite porno: Busty women with tiny waists and long legs, panting as they rode dick like it was their favorite thing in the world. He tries to picture what they sound like when they moan, tries to remember which girls he finds the hottest, which set of breasts got him off the fastest the last time he watched.

Something feels sour in the back of his mouth.

He switches tactics, thinks of some of the girls from school that he’d fantasized about in the past. Faceless figures in their cute uniform skirts, summer outfits with no tights or jackets to obscure their flawless skin. He’d picked out his favorite attributes long ago, even with the girls he’s never met, never spoken to – he keeps a mental list of whose asses he likes the best, which ones he thought would look cutest on their backs with their thighs wrapped around him. It doesn’t work.

With a choked whine through clenched teeth, Yosuke twists his wrist at the end of his stroke, pleading with anyone listening that it makes him feel something. The motion is there, the pressure, the heat of his palm, but it just not what he needs. Something isn’t right, isn’t letting him reach any closer.

Desperate and impulsive, he goes to the one surefire thing that’s always worked for him before, no matter how pent up or over stimulated he’d been: he pictures Risette in her latest swimsuit photos.

Guilt immediately burns though his veins and rises to the back of his throat like acid. He shoves off the wall, letting go of his dick and nearly stumbling backwards, gasping in shock at the way his mind recoils. That’s Rise! his own brain shrieks at him. That’s your teammate, how could you?!

Yosuke leans back against the far wall of the shower and runs his cleaner hand across his face. He lets it rest there, over his eyes, as he sucks in breath after deep, horrified breath and waits for the roll of bile and sickening shame to subside. He stays there for countless minutes, gnawing at his lip while he breathes, until the utter mortification of what he’d just tried to do finally begins to ebb and leave him be. All the while his dick still aches with unspent arousal, tension tight and ruthless along his shoulders and hips.

“Fuck.”

Slowly Yosuke pulls his hand away from his face and lets it fall to the side. He stares upward with dull eyes, barely focusing on anything but the hazy texture of the ceiling above him. “Fuck…”

He’s screwed. He doesn’t know what else to do; he’s done the cold shower method, switched to hot to shock his system, tried to let his body wait it out, all to no avail. Thinking about porn doesn’t work, thinking about girls doesn’t work, hell, even thinking about nothing still leaves him hard and unsatisfied. Speed doesn’t seem to make a difference, nor does pressure or movement. The stimulation is good in the way that any kind of touch against his erection is, but it’s hollow. There’s nothing – he feels nothing and it’s killing him.

Yosuke weighs his options. He can give up now and go back to bed, hope that maybe if he lays there long enough he’ll be able to go to sleep and his hard on will be gone in the morning. He grimaces; no, what will probably end up happening is he’ll either be wide awake and rock solid for the rest of the night, leaving him to be uncomfortable in an entirely different way when the alarm goes off and Teddie wakes up, (and his parents if they happen to be home,) or he’ll sleep, but he’ll dream.

His dick twitches at that, sending a trickle of fire through his groin, his thighs, his abdomen. It knocks what’s left of his exhalation from his lips.

Would it… really be so bad?

He thinks about the way dream-Souji’s body had fit so perfectly against his own – the scrape of fingernails down his back, a tongue across the seam of his lips. He thinks about the image of messy silver hair, damp with sweat and sticking up in places where Yosuke’s fingers had curled and tugged; he pictures glazed, rain-puddle eyes, half-lidded and looking at him as if Yosuke is the only thing his partner could ever need again.

There’s another twitch, a pulse, and slowly his hand begins to slide between his thighs.

He’s familiar enough his own body by now that he knows there’s a chance the dream will come back and that he’ll just have the same problem all over again, if it ever actually even goes away to begin with. Any relief he might get from finally passing out will likely be short-lived at best. Again, that’s if he manages to fall asleep at all.

No matter what he does, the feel of Souji’s heartbeat under his lips is going to be etched into Yosuke’s mind for hours. Would it be horrible if he just…?

His hand wraps back around his length and tentatively, tentatively begins to stroke. It feels incredible.

Yosuke lets out a long, shuddering exhale as every nerve ending that’s been lying dormant since he fist climbed into the shower jolts to life as if electrified. He slides his hand up again and tightens his fingers, strokes all the way down and glides his palm over the head. It’s like the first time he’d ever summoned Jirya – a buzzing, tingling sensation that had started somewhere at the base of his skull and spread to every limb in his body, leaving him warm and giddy with his newfound rush of power. Now, though, instead of the surge of a hurricane releasing from his mind he feels the low, simmering heat pooling in his gut and trickling outward, further and further with every pass of his hand. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall behind him, finally letting the pictures on the backs of his eyelids out into view.

Souji underneath him, pressed into the mattress with Yosuke’s knee between his thighs, breath hitching as he watches Yosuke with eyes like frosted rain. Souji’s lips – capable of summoning lightning and calling out commands in the midst of battle – parting in a gasp that sinks into a moan. Souji’s stormy eyes sliding shut. Souji panting, begging, whispering Yosuke’s name with the same kind of reverence Yosuke has used before in awe of Souji’s power. Yosuke’s fingers in Souji’s mouth, his hand in Souji’s pants; tongue and teeth and a trail of bites and kisses against Souji’s rabbiting pulse.

Souji’s hips bucking up against him, a whimper, a keen – what would he sound like? Would he be quiet like he is in real life? Or would he scream and tremble as Yosuke took him apart? High-pitched and breathy? Or a growl, low and dark and gravelly; a single sign of his god-like patience finally snapping before he dug his nails into Yosuke’s shoulders and flipped them over to ride him instead?

Yosuke’s body jerks. Heat and lighting crackle through his skin, setting his nerves on fire, causing him to gasp in shock at just how much it is. Somewhere in the back of is mind he thinks he hears Jirya purr.

He licks at his lips, bites them to hold back the quiet whimper he can feel building in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter and replays the image against the stars now flickering in and out of his sight.

Souji in his lap. Yosuke’s grip on his hips, his thighs, guiding him up and down as Souji grinds against him; sweat-slick, hot. His lips, his teeth, his tongue on Souji’s neck, gentle kisses pressed to darkening bites, claiming, marking. Souji’s hands grasping, scrabbling, leaving claw marks on Yosuke’s shoulders. Souji has such graceful hands; Yosuke wants to pin them above his head, to find out what kinds of sounds Souji makes; wants to drive him to the point of desperation so that he begs and pleads for Yosuke to let him come. He wants to run his fingers across the expanse of Souji’s body, feel Souji’s hipbones under his hands, lave his tongue and sink his teeth into the soft, strong flesh of Souji’s thighs.

Souji in his bed, in his arms. Souji crying out as Yosuke rolls his hips and drives himself deeper. Souji, Souji, Souji…

“Souji…”

The name falls from Yosuke’s lips and he feels the stings coiled deep inside him start to pull, taut and sharp. The sound of it spears through him; it settles in his fingertips, in the balls of his feet, wraps around the base of his spine and stretches upwards like ivy and Yosuke barely has time to slap his free hand over his mouth before his whole body lights up brighter than an aurora. He clamps his teeth down on his middle finger, so hard he can feel the press of bone between his teeth.

And then Yosuke is coming. Hard and intense and without any warning – with his partner’s name on his tongue like a prayer.

  Sound is the first thing that returns to him; the quiet spray of water, his own ragged breathing. Slowly he opens his eyes, blinking against the sharpness of the light and the glossy tile it’s reflecting off of. Blank eyed, he stares at the rivulets of water running down the wall beside him. His lungs take in a deep, long breath and he centers on the way his chest expands.

By the time he’s fully back in his own body, back in his soundless house in a tiny little town in the middle of the night, the shower water has started to grow cold again. He watches as it circles the drain, spiraling, mixing with the remnants of what he’s just done and washing it away out of sight. He leans his full weight back against the wall and carefully sinks to the floor.

What did he just do?

Oh god, what did he just do?

Yosuke brings his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face into his knees. He digs his forehead, his nose, his mouth into his skin as hard as he can, as if he can somehow smother the knowledge of his actions if he just presses hard enough.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

He stays under the ever-colder spray of water as his mind begins to devour itself, sitting hunched and shaking until all traces of heat are completely gone.

[kmindset]

The Monsters In All of Us: Two (M)

Member: Vampire! Jungkook AU

Summary: Shh! Just read it

Word Count: 2119

Warnings: Mature content, Slightly NSFW, slightly graphic

A/N: Don’t forget, I post this story on AO3 now as well I recommend reading it ter because this got posted a few days ago and I just forgot to post the whole thing here. Username: kmindset Anyway, enjoy!

“The hunt has to be worth it tonight, Kook. I’m not stalking around in five-inch heels for another high cholesterol half-wit.” Moisturizing your face was the easiest part of the night so you rubbed it in like a light massage.

“It will. It’s opening night at that vegan bar and grill.” He bent down to rest his chin on your head. “Most of them are pretty pretentious but worth it.”

You chuckled. Tonight you and Jungkook were doing one of your favorite things Poly Baiting. Scouring night spots for vulnerable humans looking for a fun time with the both of you was horrible, very much so, but you are vampires. You have to eat too and sometimes animal blood from the butcher shop isn’t satisfying enough.

“Why are you even bothering with that? You look as youthful as the day I spotted you through your Sseugae chima.”

“Because it smells goods and what kind of youthful looking woman am I without skin care products?”

“Hm, true.” He leans down to wrap both arms around your shoulders from behind. “Even if you looked as old as you are you would be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

You chuckled. “One, “thing”? How specist of you. Two, if I looked as old as I am I would be bones, skin, and hopefully some hair.” You turned your head to look in his eyes. His carmine pupils drawing out a fresh wave of lust. Your hand stroked his cheek sweetly. “Thank you, sweetie.”

By the time you get there the place is packed.

There are people in trendy outfits on the dance floor at one end and other people enjoying their meals at the opposite end.

“The irony is so strong I can taste it.” You snicker.

He holds your hand, walking first. “I don’t taste anything, so let’s hurry this up.”

The music sets a fun vibe in the building making even you want to dance but Jungkook is focused on one thing. Razor sharp senses refocus. Many of those around you seem to be a good enough crowd. Some older yet trendy with a contrasting group of confused looking men sat next to a rather happy looking man. ‘Hmm, poor dears got dragged here.” you think. For a moment you contemplate setting your fangs on them but by their disgust, at the appetizer, their friend is tearing into you suspect they’re suffering enough.

“Hello!” A cheerful young man with light hair and a button with the logo greets you and shows you to an open area with a few couches. There are people lounging around and deep in their food or their own conversations.

“Hi!” A woman with two ponytails immediately greets you.

“Hi!”

“How long have you been vegan?”

Years of lying for food and general survival having you speaking a lie in no time flat. “Ah, I’m actually vegetarian looking to go vegan and my fiancee’ here is-”

“Disgruntled and hungry for anything.” He interrupts with a mocking smile. However, the woman doesn't even pick up on his ridicule as she continues smiling. A naive one and a vegan. Jackpot!

“From the reviews of the original building in Incheon, it’ll turn you vegan for sure!” She rambles on about her 6 years as a vegan and the struggle of being vegan in Korea. You’re barely paying attention when you feel Jungkook tense beside you. He seems off-put by something but you don’t smell anything. You choose to ignore him and continue chatting up the girl whose name you’ve already forgotten. Jungkook’s clairvoyance usually doesn't tense him up unless there is something unusual or bad going on and by the grip he has on your shoulder, it can’t be good. Luckily, the chatty woman excuses herself to the restroom.

Before you could even turn to him he whispers. “Something’s not right here.”

“Is it little Miss “Vegan is Better”? Because she won’t be a problem for much longer.”

He shakes his head with a deep frown. “It’s something else. I feel another in pain.”

Jungkook’s senses are so strong he can sense the pain of family and nearby vampires. A handy power for avoiding hunters and aiding your kind.

“Hunters possibly?”

He nods slowly. “We should leave.” He takes your hand to guide you out. Near the exit, the chatty woman blocks your path.

“Hey, you guys! This is my boyfriend, Rod.” She finally takes notice of your path. “Leaving already?”

“Yes. Really sorry, bit of an emergency.” You swipe her phone from her hand, quickly typing out your number in her notes with ‘Y/N: aspiring vegan’ next to it.

“We should meet up sometime and you can help me go vegan.”

Jungkook discreetly tugs on the back of your jacket in quiet urgenance. You guess the sense has gotten stronger.

She nods with an excited smile and waves you goodbye.

Once you are out the door Jungkook says. “It was him.”

You turn back in confusion of who ‘him’ is and meet the eyes of Vegan girl’s boyfriend.

He was staring back at you with a pointed glare.

Him.

“How could he be a hunter? I couldn’t smell him!”

“I don’t know! I’m freaked out as well!” Your husband is sat on the couch with head in his hands. It had been decades since you had seen him this worried. You were stood over him, stroking his hair gently. “It wasn’t a strong smell but I felt something else before the whiff. It was as if he was somehow blocking his scent. But barely.”

Jungkook’s state of distress was something you rarely saw. The scariest of times being when you were pregnant with Harley and hunters were hot on your trail from your increased bloodlust.

For a while, you thought about assimilating just to make it easier on Jungkook. Two of your sisters still lived in London from the days of King Henry VIII. They choose to stay for the better acceptance of your kind. In fact, your mother moved there with your father after her second husband was staked in Vegas and remarried your father.

“Should we report this back to Feratuan?” you ask.

He thinks for a moment. “Not yet. No need to alarm anyone for no reason.”

“No reason!? A hunter concealed his scent Jungkook! And by the way, he was looking at me you would have thought I was the one with the smell! And I guarantee you all that fucker should have been smelling is Light Blue by Dolce and fucking Gabbana!”

“Lily is here.” He announces calmy before you heard a light knock. A sign passes your lips as you cross your arms in annoyance.

“Come in.”

“Hey.” She comes in with a solemn look. Obviously, her paternally inherited clairvoyance picked up on something.“What’s going on?”

You looked to Jungkook to answer.

Her worried father sighs heavily. “We don’t know. We think a hunter was concealing his scent and that somehow he knew what we are.”

Your daughter’s eyes widened in fear. “Oh my god! Seohyun said that happened to her the other day!”

“Who?” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed identically to yours, both confused and alarmed.

“My friend! She’s a first gen. Only on her 2nd lifetime. She was attacked a few weeks ago!” Your mouth hung open. “It happened outside the library in Hongdae. She said she was waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up but she was attacked from behind. When her father asked why she didn’t hide or prepare herself she told him she didn’t smell them coming. It wasn’t until they were way too close that she could faintly smell them.”

“Oh my goodness! How did she escape if it was multiple?” Jungkook questioned.

“Luckily her boyfriend showed up. He’s a first gen too but on his 10th lifetime.”

“10? After 9 is when I lost count,” you mumble, momentarily distracted from the matter at hand.

Jungkook nods at his daughter’s words in understanding. Generally, vampires on a higher lifetime have had enough experience to ward of multiple hunters but an attack could still lead to death. “While you’re here, alone, we need to speak to you.”

She nods slowly and lowers to the adjacent couch.

“Your mother and I noticed Daniel’s marks. Every time we see him he seems to have a new injury. He seems fine with it yet when we ask how it happened the boy can’t seem to remember.” He explains in his best and seldom sed ‘authoritative father’ voice.”I’m not going to bullshit, Se Yeon, you know good and well what I’m leading to.”

The barely matured vampire purses her lips. She straightens up in hopes of seeming confident but you know better. More than one hundred and fifty years of motherhood and a maternal and vampiric need to protect your children has made you more than knowledgeable about all of your children. Currently, your daughter’s body language was telling you that she was trying to seem unafraid of her father’s intense gaze but inside was rather frightened and a little ashamed of the evident disappointment that he was not making an effort to hide.

“Se Yeon,” you spoke carefully, not too gentle yet still stern. “We aren’t angry. We just want to know if what we’re suspecting is true.”

If any of your hearts naturally beat there would have been many between when your heart actually did and when she spoke. “It didn’t start out so carelessly. I hadn’t fed in a few days, I am not sure if it was sheer laziness or a distaste for the crowd the weather brought, but I was stagnant.Daniel stopped by and noticed my color. He assumed I was sick and insisted on “caring for me”. I tried to tell him to leave after he brought me some horrendously made chicken soup and useless medicine. Finally, he resolved to cuddle with me. “Cuddles are the most effective meds my darling.” She mocked his words but you saw the smile she held for a brief moment. “In my carelessness and intense need for him to shut the hell up, I allowed him to lay his head on my chest.”

Jungkook was still listening intently and rather impatiently, for the point but you already had your hand over your face. “He didn’t hear a heartbeat.” you finished for her.

She nodded. “It took a moment but right when I thought he was falling asleep he sat up! It caught me off guard, my fangs nearly released. He started freaking out about how this was really bad and I needed to go to the hospital quick! There was no way to calm him and I could only think of one thing to do. So, I played along and acted as if I was afraid. I asked him to hold me. That brought him down enough to stop yelling. He pulled me in to hug me and I buried my face in his neck and…” she gestured outwardly and the two of you nodded for her to continue. “I took just enough to put him out, licked it to heal, and when he woke up he was back on my chest and I had a heartbeat.”

“Courtesy of him.” Jungkook quipped. You nudged him to be quiet.

“It was enough for him though. I asked if everything was alright and she told me about his crazy dream that I didn’t have a heartbeat. I told him everything was fine and let him hear my heartbeat. I was so scared though I told him I wanted to be alone. It was too close a call.”

Jungkook stood and rubbed his neck before ruffling his hair, a frustrated habit. “That doesn’t explain the multiple other marks, Se Yeon.”

Her eyes drifted to the floor. You moved to sit by her and held her hand in gentle encouragement. “It was addicting. S-Something about it was delectable and...familiar? I honestly don’t even know why the urge to drink from him is so strong but it’s as if-” she paused, her head shook as if she wasn’t even comprehending her actions or the taste. “It’s as if I don’t want anything else.”

Her eyes stayed on the floor as if searching for some type of answer but your worried ones drifted up to your husband’s. He was focused on her. His eyes held so many things and you knew he would never admit any of those things to his children, especially Lily, but this went far beyond the problems of your subspecies. This was a father’s worry.

He was willing to do anything and everything for them and for you. But he wasn’t sure what yet.

Additional author’s note: Sorry I forgot to add that in addition to new chapters of the story I’ve also posted the dictionary for this story to help you all understand certain words I use for this fic as well as a side story that is just Jungkook and Y/N with lots of fluff, angst, and SMUUUUUUUUT that I won’t be posting here. Pleeeeeease, go check it out. AO3 username: kmindset

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

stained.

So I doubt any store or fad will last this long into the future, but it was brought on by a tumblr post “cute date idea: go pick out a bathbomb with your S/O and use it together” and then a conversation I had about said horrible idea with OutreOtter (”how don’t they stain the bathtub?”), who said I needed to write it. 

It didn’t snow on Luna. The artificial climate didn’t allow for it. More than that it was August, which was why it was so concerning to Christopher to see it outside of the shopping mall window: small white flakes falling from above.

“Amy, why are they making—“

“Snow? They do that sometimes, it’s a Christmas advertisement I think.”

“That’s months away.”

“I know,” she said, looking at a window display of colorful gift-boxes, “The godforsaken world of retail wants people to get excited for Christmas early, it’s bullshit. I try not to go near big shopping areas after July,” she said. Gods this place is turning into a theme park… When her mother was born, Luna was a mechanical station and a three-building campus for low-gravity research. When Amanda moved there for work, there was a major Colonial Marine base, complete with a hospital that served the entire lunar colony; military, corporate, and private docks at the ship yard, and dozens more research facilities. A small city building up around the number of full-time citizens that were needed to run both the base and the mechanics of preserving the crater fields on the front of the moon while maintaining a stable atmosphere. At first the place was a refuge from holidays and current events and current trends, but within months she noticed the change, noticed the city developing more into the kind of small city-town that she had lived in as a little girl: shopping and a library, cafes, and tourists. Gaudily dressed upper middle-class families and couples there to see the Earthrise. Hotels and bars (the latter she didn’t mind so much; if there were other people in the bar it didn’t count as drinking alone), more fucking shopping stores and then the mall. Holidays were the worst, but the screaming tourist children weren’t the reason.

Before moving to Luna Christmas was a miserable season of constant reminders. Advertisements of big, happy families mocked her openly wherever she went. The respite from it barely lasted two seasons. In the malls and departments stores it began early. Everywhere else it still began early, but not until October or so. Damn shame too, Halloween’s about the only holiday that doesn’t guilt you for not having anyone in your life. Though this upcoming Halloween had occurred to her, and in the process of wanting to give her lover as much experience in the human social world as she could, she planned on finding something for them to do. Maybe even hand out candy to the kids in their apartment building.

“What,” Samuels asked, looking over Ripley’s shoulder into the store, “are those?” An employee was dropping a soft-ball sized blue and green globe into a clear glass tank: it spun around in the water and began to froth.

“Bath-bombs. Expensive little soap balls that fizz and bubble when you drop them in water. Some of them have dumb prizes inside, or a fuck-ton of glitter.”

“I want to go in and see,”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Can you come with me?” They had reached a point that they weren’t bothered by splitting up while out. For him to ask her to watch him wasn’t usual anymore; she had already been poised to cross the hallway into a Wallace computer store.

“Why?”

“Because most of the patrons inside are teenage girls.”

“Afraid one of them will try flirting with you?” it wasn’t likely; thus far the only women she ever noticed giving him more than a passing glance were usually older than her.

“No? I’d only feel out of place.”

“Alright,” she smiled, not wanting him to think that the request bothered her, and followed him in; she was immediately assaulted by a few hundred horrifically clashing scents of fruits and flowers. “What was so interesting about—“

“If I could get a closer sense of one of them, I could tell their chemical make-up,” he returned her smile, “I’m curious.”

“Epson salt, soap, and acid of some kind—I think.” She watched him pick up a few different ones, smell them and set them down. “Do you want one?” she asked picking up a small robot-shaped block.

“You aren’t funny, luv.”

“It’s called ‘ickle-baby-bot’, it’s adorable.”

“It’s insulting.”

“Ickle baby,” she laughed, pressing a slight, quick kiss on his cheek. “Still wish you could blush,”

“Ah, the only attribute of mine I am thankful for: that I can’t.” Though he was hardly recognized this far from the marine base and Weyalnd-Yutani’s Luna offices, he was more concerned that someone would notice that Amanda was kissing a synthetic. He was far from being embarrassed by her affections, though still a little flustered at the idea of getting drawing attention.

“I’ll buy one if you want,”

“Not really, I was curious, that was all.” A large purple one stood out, emitting a heady amount of lavender perfume; he picked it up, and handed it to her. “What do you think of this one?”

“I like it,” she smiled. “Let’s get a couple of them, we could use one tonight.”

“Should I leave?”

“Why?” she asked.

He lowered his voice to answer: “We’re an obvious couple looking at them together, and if we purchase them together…”

“We’re wearing wedding rings. Those girls by the front window are holding hands, they’re not separating to sneakily buy anything.”

“Alright, alright. Then at least let me buy them,”

“Whatever you want.”

An absurd amount of money later, they boarded the shuttle back to the old side of Luna. They lived closer to Tranquility Base, closer to the offices and austere military buildings, and the older laboratories—which meant that at least once a week he was recognized as a synthetic.

To those who recognized his make, the ring told them nothing: they never noticed and he might as well be invisible. Still, for Amanda’s sake (though she didn’t know about it) if going out on his own he put his ring in his pocket, or didn’t wear it out at all. True, he had a suspicion that the building manager and front desk attendants all knew what he was and that he and Ripley were together, but he didn’t want it becoming common knowledge for the sake of her reputation and dignity.

At least holding out a hand, and gently taking her forearm to help her off the shuttle could have also been read as an action of servitude rather than genuine care. Unlike her insistence on kissing him, even chastely while they’re in the city center, these were quiet and unnoticeable gestures that felt strangely freeing.

Touching her in general felt freeing.

Once to the front door of their building, Amanda held it open for him: her sense of courtesy rather than chivalry. If someone was behind you, you hold the door, even if that someone was actively insisting that he had it along with all the day’s shopping bags and her jacket over his arm. She showed her card at the front desk and used it to activate the lift. The design of the place was dated, half three-star-hotel like any nicer-than-garbage building she had ever seen, and half gimmicky-retro-space-station. She repaired a historical roller coaster in Florida once with a similar design after Weyland-Yutani bought the theme park. Walking the whole way around to the other side of the building after arriving on their floor was just the tip of the “bad layout” architecture, but that did mean that their corner apartment was in the price range of Weyland-Yutani’s payout. Didn’t matter, it was endlessly better than the dormitory-style place she had lived before.

Christopher set the bags down on the kitchen counter bar, and Amanda flopped onto the sofa across the flat.

“I’m too tired for all that we did,”

“You lasted through five stores though,” about where her limit was now. They’d taken a trip like this the first day in the flat—mere weeks (excluding cryo) since the disaster of Sevastapol—and she could hardly take the crowds, having to sit in corners, tug her partner aside, and eventually apologizing that she had to stop and go home. A lovely day shopping for ‘new home’ items and groceries had driven her to a breakdown. Now she was only crashed on the couch, only as worn out as anyone might be if they’d been up late the previous night.

Which she had been.

…Quite late.

“Do you still want to try one of the bath bombs tonight?” she asked.

“If you’re exhausted then no,” he was unpacking the day’s prizes: an odd looking blender that he thought he could use to make her fruit smoothies breakfast—pestering her to actually eat fruit might be easier if she didn’t have to sit down, seeing as she preferred to roll out of bed less than half an hour before she had to be at work. Really anything other than those toaster pastries and cold coffees. There were also other things, more foreign to him, more strange and surreal: a cake knife and server engraved in elegant script an intertwining AC. He had picked them out, chosen the script, gave the initials, and paid for them. Amanda didn’t care about material things, she didn’t even need the ring he bought her but they were all things that she would have if she had a real engagement, a real marriage. It’s been hardly eight months; if you were human you wouldn’t have bloody proposed to her yet, you overthinking, overdramatic, overexcited idiot.

“Earth to Christopher, where the fuck did you go? I asked you something.”

“Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking…” he played over the last moments of audio in his head, heard her question: “I’m fine as long as it’s just the bath, sounds relaxing. What about you?”

“Just relaxing sounds nice; you can run it as you see fit,” he walked over and handed her the bag of the bathbombs.

“If you’re good then I’ll get on that now, before I pass out.” she stood up and stretched, and then walked down the hall. A wayward glance at the bags on the counter and he followed her; he could put them away later.

Amanda gave another yawn, and stretched out as she pulled her shirt off. Despite seeing this often he wasn’t used to it yet, the look of her skin, the curves, lines, scars and freckles. Red, mean looking indents where her bra-straps had dug into the skin. She stepped out of her jeans too as the water in the bath rose.

“You can drop the thing in if you want,” Amanda said, slipping in the water contently. The soft vanity lights gave enough of a glow to see, but without the harsh light of the ceiling lamp, he’d have to keep an eye on her to be sure she didn’t fall asleep in the water. He undressed slowly, bordering on shyly, and followed her, reaching for the paperbag of the purple-hued balls and dropping one in the water between them. Amanda had rarely used any before—too expensive, too temporary—and watched with interest, though less interest than he took. Christopher was strangely fascinated by it. However, unlike Amanda the first time that she used one, he didn’t prod at it until it fell apart. The quiet fizzing and the scent of lavender lulled her even more and she stretched out her legs beside her lover’s, leaned back against the edge of the tub and shut her eyes.

Christopher smiled at the sight of her, up nearly to her neck in the water. They had taken to showering together somewhat often, and baths a little less. Some days still Amanda would need the company if not the contact and they’d sit like this until the water grew cold, her with her eyes shut and he usually reading on his waterproof-cased datapad. It wasn’t inherently sexual, but seemed all the more intimate for it.

The thin layer of foam dissipated quickly on the water’s surface was less exciting than he had hoped it would be, but the water was dyed a gentle purple.

“Amy?”

“Mm?”

“This won’t stain the bath will it?”

“Oh no, the color rinses away,” she sat up, the water now barely to her chest, and shivered at the contact of air on wet skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna pass out; sorry...I have to go to bed.” She climbed out of the bath but spoke up when he made motion to follow, “No, don’t. Relax and enjoy it,” she dried off and let her hair down.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Amanda knelt by the bath and leaned over to kiss him.

Of course she probably didn’t mean for it to be serious, she’s tired, she’s going to bed to sleep, she was just trying to kiss him good night. Still Christopher’s voice of reason was shut down by a flare of mischief and he reached up behind her with a hand on the back of her neck, soaking her hair and tilting her enough that she deepened the kiss with a deep sigh.

Ripley enjoyed the bit of an ornery streak he was having, between this and initiating the previous night’s activities, and didn’t pull back until he moaned softly, and let go of her hair. She drew back slowly, catching a second, nearly imperceptibly quiet hum of pleasure from him.

“Good night,” she whispered, her eyes still half shut.

“Good night, darling.”

The light was dim, but his arm was still resting on the side of the tub, not under water as before, and she could note something not right about—

“Um…?”

“Everything alright?”

Amanda turned the ceiling lamp on as well, and Christopher was in full, bright color. Bright purple, to be more specific.

“oh hell, Amy what am I supposed to—“ he try to rub a patch of the purple off his arm under the water, reached around for soap and tried that, and still, his skin was the same pale violet that the water was.

“Try to shower it off under hotter water?” Amanda didn’t seem as bothered as she did amused, and the more frantic he became, the funnier she found it.

“Are you laughing? God, this is—this is—I have to be at the office tomorrow.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It won’t come off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Amanda I’m periwinkle!”

She didn’t know which was funnier, the look of terror on his face or—

“PERIWINKLE? Why not say blue or purple or—“

“Oh does it matter?” he shook his head, trying to think of a solution, something as an excuse to not report to the office the next day. “Alright, I have to dry off, can you leave?”

“What, why?” she managed between bouts of laughter.

“Because, dear, I think it’s safe to assume that all of me is ‘blue or purple,’” he quoted her with a meticulous copy of her accent, “And I’m afraid that you won’t ever stop laughing then.”

“Ffff….S-Sorry, it’s just so—“

“I know, it’s my fault, I’m the one that wanted to see the damn thing—“

“You’ve sworn twice, you are upset.”

“You think so?” he turned his respirator fans on high, and then gradually slowed them until he was back to a workable internal temperature. “Please leave?”

“Alright,” she left her towel on the floor, nudging the door half-shut behind her as she retreated to the darkness of their room. Only after he heard her open a dresser drawer for a night shirt that he got out of the water.

A quick glance and the damage was surveyed: from the middle of his chest down, and on his arms from just under the elbows, he was stained purple. His lover wasn’t, their bath wasn’t.

“Wonderful…”

“I’m sorry I was laughing,” said the Ripley-shaped bundle of blankets on the right side of the bed.

“Apology accepted, please help me figure out what will take this off in the morning...”

“Can I see?”

“I’m not turning the lights on,”

She rolled over and reached out to him in the dark, purred softly when her hand made contact with bare skin; her hand drifting gently down until meeting the waistband of his pants. She withdrew in favor of leaving her hand over his core; about where a human’s heart would be. “How d’you think it happened? Your skin isn’t porous.”

“I am thoroughly convinced that the reason this happened is because you are the only stroke of luck I have had in eight years,” his hand covered hers, and he continued softly “And you are so amazing that to even it out, the rest of my life is going to continue to be a series of absurd misfortunes.”

“That’s very sweet. Still don’t think I can take you seriously until you don’t look like background ghoul in Beetlejuice.”

“When have you ever taken me seriously?”

“I did before.” The slight emphasis on the last word made it clear what she meant: their entire mission of Sevastapol. Unless it was the subject at hand, Ripley never mentioned the place, or anyone involved by name.

“I need an excuse not to go to the office tomorrow.”

“Use me as an excuse; or say you need servicing, it’s not like you’ve ever cost them a sick day before. We’ll go to the hardware store, find a solvent that might lift that stain out.”

“Could you go alone? I’d have to wear gloves to hide this and I would rather not attract the attention.”

“Understood,”

“God I hope something works,” he said in as close to a mumble as his audio system would allow. “I’ll bleach it if I have to.”

“Wouldn’t that take out the flesh tone too? You’d look like a ghoooooost,” she was quiet, tired but still sounded mirthful. “Better than the purple people eater.”

“The what?”

“It’s an old, old stupid Halloween song about a purple monster.”

“Please go to sleep before you come up with any more flattering remarks.”

“Then please stop sounding like you’re fucking dying.” Amanda tugged their duvet up to her shoulders, and shut her eyes.

“Dear.”

“Hm?”

“Was that a pun on dyeing as in to give color to something?”

“No, but let’s say that it was, make me sound more clever,” she shifted slightly, her arm over his torso hugged him tight for a moment and then relaxed. “‘Night…”

Earlier that year, he would wait until she was asleep to leave the room and sit awake in the center of the apartment, ever on guard, paranoia tearing him away from her side. Now he waits until she fell asleep before starting partial shut-down, a sleep of a kind. The last fully conscious act was a soft kiss on her temple, before the quiet exhale of his respiratory fans turning off.

[peacock-and-squad]

Never take a adopted sister from Avery

Ok so a mini story that popped into my head and one I had to do. So you see I was thinking and sadly this ain’t cannon XD but Since @ask-these-weird-kiddos ‘s Avery has a tight bond with his world’s Leduc I decided since we are doing a rp it seems Avery is feeling that bond with My Leduc also called Lidia! XD so this is kinda like a gift to them.

———

Leduc mummers As she awoke, now usual she woke up from Patrick’s shenanigans and or some sort of lab accident. And she wished that was the case now but it wasn’t, sadly she awoke to find herself completely tied to a large cement pillar. Her arms where tied behind her back, her torso, hips and knees where tied as well. And two thick pieces of rope tied to different poles beside her kept her head in place. The pretty blonde female looked around her best she could and figured out she was in a large storage facility.

Leduc furrows her brows in confusion as she thought back to when she got here. The blonde female was working on writing in her journal, then she felt a burning and itching pain on the back of her head. Before her world went dark but not before shivering as a arm wrapped around her chest. She gagged as she remembered how the arm squeezed her breasts and Leduc scowled “Ugh you have to be kidding me...” she spoke before a much lower voice spoke out. “Now now don’t go throwing a fuss, have to keep you looking good for buyers.” Leduc immediately turned her head to the voice.

There stood a rather large but some what fit man, he was a pale white with black dreadlocks with the usual mobster attire you’d generally see. He had a ring piecing in the middle of his nose and black eyes that looked over their captive in a way that made Leduc shiver in disgust. “Buyers? The hell you talking about you prick!?” She snapped trying to make a electric surge but her now realized her arms and legs where bound in rubber insulation gloves. Not only canceling her powers but dulling the sharp nails and feet she had.

This was NOT looking good for her, she then stared at the man who walked to her shoes tapping on the cement floor. He spoke as he approached her “The one’s who your gonna serve of course! The buyers your gonna protect from the next Skullgirl!” Leduc stared as if he had grown three heads before hissing out furious. “ARE YOU INSANE JACKASS!?, Obviously you forget I don’t damn well have to do anything these buyers tell me to do! I fight with a team you sick fuck!” Now Leduc wouldn’t usually be so fluent in cursing but this guy was pushing his limits. Especially after taking her from her Lab 8 family this made her blood boil.

“Ah But that’s where your wrong sugar lips~” he replied to her outburst as he snapped his fingers “Boys bring in her medicine would ya? She’s getting a fever from being so pissed.” The apparent boss spoke and a goon came up to the boss handing him a syringe with clear liquid but a small blue chip floating inside. He waved it in front of her face putting the needle dangerously close to her slightly plump lips. “See this gorgeous? You see that small blue chip? Well that’s a mutated Theonite control chip. Meant to stimulate nerves with a altered Theonite that slowly takes your mind making you an obedient slave.” Leduc’s pupils dilated in fear at this realization, the boss grinned knowing her had her scared.

“Hey the buyers ain’t coming for a bit, so maybe you and me can go to a isolated room and spend some time together~ cause I know it ain’t just me who thinks your chest would make awesome pillows~” the boss rambled licking his lips as he gripped her chin to forcefully turn her head to try and inject her with the chip. She wasn’t having any of that as she yanked her head back and chomped down on the boss’s finger. The said male yelled in pain before growling as the syringe was dropped and shattered on the floor in favor of punching Leduc in the stomach.

This made the blonde gasp as all the air was forced from her as she felt her stomach immediately forming a bruise. She coughed violently, before glaring at the man who was clutching his bleeding finger. “Damn you little bitch, have fight in ya still huh? Well I’ll be sure to break your little spirit. Boys get the back up from the car but take your time, I wanna have some fun breaking her down.” The three men behind the boss left the storage warehouse supposedly to the car. The female was glaring daggers at him and the boss leaned down and said “I’ll say this, you ASG Agents are gonna bring a good profit to me~”

Leduc was about to speak but cries of agony and fear came from outside. And the two looked to the door and one man fell halfway in and he looked like hell, a gash bleeding across his face and he clawed to crawl in. But he screamed as he was dragged by something back out and his screams where cut off. The boss yelled “The fuck is going on!?” He was answered as a small figure came into the area glaring at the boss. The small person’s gaze showing only hate and rage at this man. “You have the damn audacity to come into my foster home...take Leduc away, try to sell her as if she was not a person with their own will...try to make her a slave...AND THEN YOU HURT HER!? WELL FUCK YOU PAL YOU AIN’T LEAVING ALIVE!”

Leduc recognized that voice she immediately grew worried and a little panicked as she thrashed in her bonds. “Avery!? Why are you here?!” The teen exclaimed worry leaking into her voice and the boss laughed “Awwww how cute kid, trying to be all tough for the pretty lady here?” That’s when both of them noticed the fireman’s axe the kid was holding the 13 year old had blood splattered on his body and face but most was on the axe which dripped the liquid. The boss then grew a bit more cautious but still a cocky bastard.

“So you a ASG Unit to? Great! I’ll have two to sell, heck I’m feeling generous from how much spunk you have. Give up now and I’ll let you be sold with your friend here.” The boss mocked but this made the axe near cut his head clean off as the axe was thrown with force that it embedded into the cement pillar cutting the ropes that held Leduc. “THE SHIT?!” The man yelled as Leduc was able to get free to free her arms she used the sharp part of the axe still sticking out to get those ropes off and the dreaded latex.

Avery had used the distraction to leap at the man’s back and bite into the guy’s neck tearing at it and when the man tried to grab the spunky teen. Avery would slip out of reach each time and immediately going back to biting at the man’s head, neck and basically everywhere he could reach. This gave Leduc the opportunity to lunge forward her now freed Taranis Generators she charged then and made the two Generator rods go on ether side of the man and the electric she produced surged through the boss causing him to yell in pain.

And as Leduc predicted Avery jumped off in time to run and grab his axe. The boss growled as he stared at the two and knew he couldn’t keep risking it. So he took and remote out a pressed a button turning to run. “GET BACK HERE-!?” Avery was cut off as smoke poured from above covering the area blinding them. The boss got away and Leduc took Avery’s hand and ran with him out of the place to catch their breath. Avery and Leduc cough and pant as the smoke had invaded their bodies for the short period of time. “Ugh That creep is so gonna pay for that bullshit he pulled..” Avery said as he hugged Leduc and she couldn’t have been more grateful for his help. “Oh Avery thank you for coming to my aid.”

That’s when Avery looked at her with concern as he looked to her stomach “A-Are you ok?! He seemed like he got you pretty good in the gut!” He yelled lightly Leduc was touched by this “I’ll be bruised but nothing serious now...let’s go home but first how about some ice cream on the way?” She coos lightly as she looked to her adoptive brother who smiled and nodded. Both seeming to have forgotten that one of them was covered in enemy blood or walking through the corpses of the three men.

———

Ah I’m very happy with this little story XD and I even made a reference to A Raid on the tower story done by @shadowofimpendingdoom XD hope you all enjoyed this!

[antiquecompass]

So I was HOPING to have 1 complete story and 2 complete ficlets done for @warriorgays birthday today. I don’t know why I plan on anything honestly bc whenever I do my family decides it’s time for massive Home Improvement Projects which take up my days off. I wanted to get SOMETHING up for Alex’s birthday though, so here’s a very long preview of the will-not-end superbowl fic:

A lot had changed in Babe Heffron’s life since 2004. His Philly family had lost a few members, but gained a ton between new babies, a hell of a bunch of in-laws, and groups of folks that just got adopted in along the way. In those years Bill had lost an entire leg, gained a desk job, finally convinced Fran to marry his foolish ass, and started raising three kids. Ralph was an actual <i>doctor</i> now, running one of the Thibodaux Medical Clinics just outside Baton Rouge. Maggie lived with Ralph and Sid in their own place in St. Boniface, working at the clinic there and forging her own path like usual.

 And Babe?

 Babe went from being a bartender to working an actual office job for Nixon Development. He had most weekends and holidays off and a 401k and an actual accountant to handle his taxes now. He was <i>married</i> for Christ’s sake. To a friggin’ <i>doctor</i>. In Louisiana of all places. If he could’ve gone back in time and told his teenage self he’d be settled down, far away from South Philly, with some Cajun doc he’d met during Mardi Gras, he probably would’ve punched himself. He definitely would’ve called Ron to take care of his delusional evil clone.

 And there was no way, in any of his wildest dreams, he could’ve predicted having Merl-Francis as his brother-in-law.

 He was pretty fucking proud of Shelton too. Boy had gone and become a Registered Nurse. They’d done so many study sessions in the middle of the night to past that certification test. They’d held a bake sale outside the clinic to raise the $500 fee just to take that fucking test.

 Merl-Francis got it done on the first try.

 So Babe definitely couldn’t complain about how his life had turned out since last February 2004. 2018, despite the hellscape that had become the world in general, hadn’t been too bad to him so far. He was cautiously optimistic about the year, after having gotten past the normal mourning days around Christmas. It was nearing his anniversary of meeting Gene and the Eagles were in the play-offs. So yeah, things were looking bright and shiny for Babe Heffron. Sure, he was waiting for Ralph to <i>finally<i> admit he was dating Maggie, but that was more fun to watch Spina struggle to come up with excuses for why he couldn’t hang out other than ‘I’m dating your little sister.’ It was amusing as hell.

 And then fucking New England has to fuck up the good year Babe had going for him. Honestly, he should’ve expected it from the Patriots.

 “You look like you’re fixing to punch the tv,” Eugene Sledge said as he looked up from his laptop. “Please don’t. It took Snafu three different trips to pick that one out.”

 “I had to compare the specs,” Merl-Francis said through a mouth of crab dip.

 Gene slapped him. “Close your mouth. Never could take you nowhere.”

 Merl-Francis glared at him. “We at home, Gene-Baptiste. Ain’t no one here not used to me.”

 “We still don’t want to see all that,” Gene said.

 None of the men present understood Babe’s pain. It was the fucking Patriots. Again. If only Ralph and Maggie were here, instead of being all responsible and working. They didn’t get it, this group of Saints fans. They didn’t <i>know</i>.

 “You don’t understand,” Babe said.

 Sledge shrugged and went back to working on his manuscript. “You don’t like the Patriots. A lot of people don’t. Andy’s probably the only one I know who does.”

 “No,” Babe said. “It’s a rematch of Thirty-Nine. I don’t know if I can take this shit again.” He stood up and went to the small kitchen medicine cabinet. “I need all the Tums.”

 Merl-Francis smirked at him. “You got such a weak constitution.”

 “Fuck you,” Babe said as he stepped over a sleeping Kipling.

 Babe’s phone started to ring on the coffee table. Gene reached for it and frowned as he looked at the screen.

 “What?” Babe asked as he shook a handful of Tums into his hand.

 “It’s your dad,” Gene said.

 “Well, answer it,” Babe said.

 “Good evening, Mr. Heffron,” Gene greeted as he put the phone on speaker.

 Joe Heffron sighed. “Gene, when will you just call me ‘dad’?”

 “Sorry, sir,” Gene said.

 His dad sighed again. “We’ll work on it. Where’s my boy? Eating a handful of antacids?”

 “Yes,” Gene said glancing over at Babe.

 Babe made a face at both of them. It wasn’t his fault his stomach didn’t like sports-event related stress.

 “Just like his mother,” Dad said. “Once he’s done choking down chalk, tell him to call me back. We need to know when he’s coming home.”

 “What now?” Babe asked.

 “There’s my boy. You’re coming home for the Super Bowl. You can’t celebrate it <i>there</i>.” Dad paused. “No offense, boys.”

 “None taken,” Gene said.

 “Bullshit,” Merl-Francis muttered.

 His father did have a point. There was just something about Philly fans being at home around other Philly fans. Look, he knew the reputation they had in the sports world. They were the most asshole of fans who did stupid shit like climb poles and flip over cars and throw batteries at opposing pitchers and fall into the penalty box to fight a professional hockey player and booed Santa Claus once almost fifty years ago. And sure things got so bad for a time there the Eagles Court had to be established to deal with all the shit happening at games, but that had been disbanded over fifteen years ago. Despite all that, there was nothing like being around that energy. Even with the actual game in Minneapolis, Babe had to admit that he couldn’t picture watching the game anywhere else but in his parents’ living room.

 “I don’t know if I can get the time off,” Babe admitted.

 Merl-Francis laughed. “You run that office. You can give yourself some days off. Take Gene with you, he needs a vacation.”

 “I have work,” Gene said.

 “Nope, you’ve got paperwork,” Merl-Francis said. “You don’t even practice much medicine anymore, running all the Thibodaux clinics. You got Anna, Renee, Sid, and Bryan to cover your shit. Take a vacation.”

 “You forgot Spina,” Babe said.

 “Ralph and Maggie conditionally asked for the time off if the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl,” Gene said. “I already approved their vacation.”

 Merl-Francis grinned from his sprawl on the couch. “They’ll be there, Mr. Heffron.”

 “I knew I could trust you, Merriell,” he said. “You and Eugene should come up as well. You’ve got to come see our city again.”

 Merl-Francis smiled like that had been his plan all along. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 “Fuck,” Babe muttered as he threw another couple Tums into his mouth. He eyed the economy sized bottle of Excedrin as Merl-Francis started humming an off-tune version of <i>Fly Like An Eagle</i>. As he started on the second verse Babe reached for the bottle and reminded himself to pack it for the trip to Pennsport.

 <center>**********</center>

 There was a sold period of Babe’s life where he couldn’t go back to Philly. At first it was a question of safety. In the wake of Julian’s murder—and that’s what it was even if people still didn’t want to call it that—Babe was forbidden from setting foot in the city. He couldn’t explain that to his parents, didn’t want them to know everything about Ron Speirs’ more classified business dealings or the shit Babe sometimes got mired in to make an extra buck. And the more people who knew the truth, the more lives were at risk.

 After that issue got permanently resolved, Babe couldn’t return because of his own grief. It was funny, really. Babe’s grief was they excuse they used for so long while Julian’s killers were being hunted down, that even Babe forgot there was a world of truth to it. He didn’t know how deep the roots of his grief had grown, even after years, until he was asked to return to Pennsport and had an actual fucking panic attack.

 He couldn’t make himself get on a plane back then, so they drove, and honestly? Babe didn’t know what he did in his past lives to get Gene, but he was full of immense gratitude to whatever good deeds he accomplished back then.

 After overcoming that emotional hurdle, Babe made sure to visit at least twice a year. He’d just been there back in October to welcome the latest Guarnere into the world and hadn’t planned on returning again until May.

 Babe looked through the storage bins and the closet and realized he’d probably have to buy a winter coat while he was up there. The two he’d owned had already been claimed by Gene and Merl-Francis. Sledge, ever the Boy Scout, already had his own.

 “Well that’s a nice view,” Gene said.

 Babe laughed and wiggled his ass as he leaned over the bin. “At least there’s something you still like about me.”

 “I’m just with you for the life insurance and the tax break,” Gene said.

 “Figure out how you’re going to kill me yet?” Babe asked.

 “I figured with the amount of almond milk you drink I’ll just let the cyanide do its thing. Claim you must’ve got hold of some bitter almonds and made your own homemade glass of milky poison.”

 Babe looked up and had to laugh at the evil smirk on Gene’s face. “That’s horrifically brilliant.”

 Gene shrugged. “I needed something to do at the last board meeting.”

 Gene didn’t like having to play the businessman. He liked being a doctor, it was his calling, but they both knew how important it was to him to make sure lower-income and rural areas had access to decent health care clinics. It was a never-ending battle with local governments and the more religious members of the board who didn’t want to provide free contraceptives, pregnancy tests, or rides to the few Planned Parenthood clinics still in the state, but Gene always won. It was hard to argue with him when he got <i>that</i> look on his face and <i>that</i> tone in his voice.

 “Maybe you need this vacation,” Babe said.

 Gene nodded as he walked into their bedroom. “I was thinking about going down to five days a week too. Apparently there’s benefit in taking more than one day off a week.”

 Babe almost fell on his ass. “Did I just hear you speaking actual common sense?”

 “Fuck you,” Gene said with love.

 Babe grabbed an armful of sweaters and walked over to his open suitcase. “I know what this is about. It’s because you’re turning forty next year.”

 “Fuck you,” Gene repeated. He slipped his arms around Babe’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You got enough clothes there?”

 “Half of these are for you,” Babe said. He leaned back into Gene’s embrace and softly laughed. “And Merl-Francis. He’s going to have ten layers on. We’ll be able to roll his ass down the street.”

 Gene laughed in agreement. “Never could fatten that boy up.” His lips were warm when the pressed against Babe’s temple. “You happy?”

 It had been on those little traditions of theirs, to ask this, in the quiet times. The answers differed at times, but it was an honest question for an honest answer.

 “So much,” Babe said. He turned his head to meet Gene’s warm gaze. “So much,” he repeated.

 <center>**********</center>

 After the job that had cost both Bill and Joe Toye a leg a piece, they’d come back to Philly to stay. There had been some bullshit with the Department of Defense, even more with Veteran’s Affairs, and finally they’d just taken jobs with the Nixon Development Philadelphia office. Joe had been officially adopted by the Guarnere-Heffron-Julian-Spina clans. Fran and Bill had insisted Joe live with them, since their place had newly constructed ramps and handrails, and while it’d been a fight, Joe had finally given in.

 The Guarnere home was their first stop. Babe pulled their rental car up to the small strip of concrete that masqueraded as a driveway on the backend of the house. He had insisted on driving, knowing damn well his car full of backwoods country boys wouldn’t survive the trip from the airport without getting in at least three accidents. Babe smiled to himself as he got out of the car. St. Boniface was home, had been for a long time, but there was nothing like the old buildings and decorated front stoops of where he grew up. Green and white flags and Eagles logos decorated damn near everything as far as the eye could see.

 “Uncle Babe!”

 Babe braced himself as Juliana Guarnere came running down the steps at full speed.

 “You gonna dent the car,” Merl-Francis said from where he sat in the backseat, huddled up like he was about to trek the Antarctic. It wasn’t even that cold outside.

 Babe caught Juliana up in his arms and marveled at how tall she’d grown. Seven years old and already half her mother’s size. She had green and white hearts painted on her cheeks which clashed horribly with the faded orange and back Flyers t-shirt she wore.

 “Missed you, Julie,” he said, hugging her tight.

 She gave Babe another hug and then moved on to Gene before waving at Sledge. She frowned at Merl-Francis in the backseat.

 “Is he okay?”

 “He’s cold-blooded like his gator relatives. He’s just conserving his body heat,” Babe said.

 “I can hear you,” Merl-Francis said. He finally slid out of the car. “I assume there’s heat inside your house.”

 “Duh,” Juliana said. She grabbed Babe’s hand and tugged him towards the back door. “Come on! Uncle Joe’s making lunch. Uncle Ralph is supposed to be coming by too. Why didn’t he fly with you?”

 “He had his tickets long before we got ours,” Babe said.

 “’Cause he’s got more faith in the Eagles than you,” Juliana said.

 Babe laughed. “You sound like your grandmother.”

 Juliana laughed as they walked into the kitchen that smelled like ricotta and marinara. Joe Toye was balanced on a stool over the stove, slathering loaves of bread with butter.

 “Look at you all domestic and shit,” Babe said.

 Joe smirked at him and cleaned his hands on the bar towel resting on his shoulder. “I can’t cook much, but this? I’ve got it down.”

 “Smells good,” Gene said. He was looking at Joe with his doctor’s gaze, but probably only Babe and Merl-Francis knew it enough to tell. “Anything we can do to help?”

 “Yeah,” Joe said. “Get out of my kitchen. Go play with the kids. Henry’s teething, just so you know.”

 Juliana nodded. “It’s the worst.”

 “You weren’t exactly a ball of fun,” Joe said. He tugged on Juliana’s ponytail. “You going to stay here? Be my proper sous chef?”

 “Do I get first dibs on the sauce?” Juliana asked, a wicked grin on her face reminiscent of her father.

 “Of course,” Joe promised.

 “Okay,” Juliana said. She waved at Babe and Gene. “You know the way.”

 Gene led the other two out, but Babe lingered by the doorway.

 “Hey, Joe?” he said.

 “You about to start singing some Hendrix at me, Heffron?” Joe asked. “The baby wailing is enough noise.”

 Babe shook his head. Some things would never change. “Just saying, you look good.” He paused and added, “Asshole,” as a parting shot.

 “Watch your mouth,” Juliana yelled after him.

 Babe followed the sound of childish laughter to the living room. Bill Guarnere held court on the couch, little Henry is his lap sucking down a bottle and four-year-old Sofia laughing as Bill made funny faces at her, apparently more entertaining than the Bubble Guppies on the screen.

 Sledge was looking over all the family photographs on the wall, while Merl-Francis had claimed the chair closest to the heating vent. Gene was conspicuously absent.

 “Fran stole him,” Bill said.

 “Already?” Babe said. He held out his hands and took the baby and the bottle. “That’s got to be a record.”

 “We got a new big girl bed for Sofia and a canopy to go with it. The canopy is driving Fran up the wall.”

 “It’s has Elsa and Anna on it,” Sofia helpfully supplied.

 “And it lights up,” Bill said.

 “Jealous you don’t get one?” Babe asked. He shifted Henry in his arms, surprised how much he’d grown since the last time Babe had seen him, and tried not to make a face when he got spit up on.

 “Why do all your children do this to me?”

 Bill smiled, eyes tinged with memories from a lifetime together. “Maybe it’s just a Guarnere thing.”