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onceupona-chaos · 3 years

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Why keep an open mind about Elain

(And why her book will slap hard)

When I was writing this one-shot right here, I read a few posts about Elain as a spy, some of them liked the idea, others didn't. Which is totally ok, if you don't, of course. I also reread a lot of scenes from the books to understand better how this could play out.

But I came across some comments about how Elain being a spy would make her "lose her characterization" or be "out of character". So I wanted to talk a little about it. This post will be discussing those comments specifically and why you should keep an open mind about Elain.

NOTE: As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. I really hope I made myself clear. If you have any comments, I would love to hear them. Be kind!

1. Elain as a character

The first reason I don't believe that argument is because ACOSF made it clear that we know very little about Elain. So how can we say it would be something out of character for her when we barely know her as a character?

So far, we only have other characters points of view on Elain: a person who has a sweet temper. But ACOSF came to tell us that there is another side of her. Nesta expected Elain to cry because of Graysen. She didn't. Elain didn't back down from her fight with Nesta, she didn't hesitate when it came to the Trove or the Hewn City, she laughed when Nesta told her to fuck off. In every single of those moment, Elain's behavior is emphasized by one reaction of the others: surprise.

"You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people.

"Elain showed some teeth," I observed. "I wasn't expecting that."

And this is nothing new. Look at what we have in ACOFAS:

and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

The last two books highlight that 1) we don't know everything about her and 2) we expect one behavior from her.

But most importantly: she often doesn't correspond to what it is expected of her, especially in ACOSF.

And then we have this:

With time and safety, perhaps we'll see a different side of her emerge.

But I also think we haven't yet seen all she has to offer.

And before this makes someone think Elain will not get a book because we don't have much on her character, this is exactly what books are for. To develop a character. Before ACOSF, Nesta didn't have much development either. We had seen ACOFAS lay the background for her, the same way ACOSF laid the background for Elain's story.

Elain will surprise us. Sarah is practically screaming that at this point. So before judge something as out of character, we need to have in mind that Elain will have her arc and by the end of it, she will be different, she will grow. Which leads me to:

2. In order to be developed, characters need to change

Before ACOSF came out, lots of people said Nesta would never be a warrior, especially because of this line:

And why must I train at all? I am no warrior nor do I desire to be. (ACOWAR)

And I understand. I really do. But we went from that to Nesta not only becoming a Valkyrie, but also thinking about starting a small unit of females. Yes, that line is back in ACOWAR. However, in ACOSF Gwyn and Emerie said the exactly same thing:

Gwyn gestured to Nesta's fighting leathers, the overlapping scales. "I'm not a warrior".

Emerie's face yielded nothing, as blattle-hardened as Azriel's. "I'm not interested in a warrior's training".

There's a difference between developing a character and doing something out of character.

Elain already is passing through an internal change, which means SJM is preparing her for her arc. So we have to keep in mind that Elain will pass through challenges, changes in her journey, where she will learn new lessons, abilities. She will face and deal with her traumas and flaws, because she will be developed as a character. Of course, her essence will still be there, but in order to grow, she needs to change as well.

At this point lots of things happened to her, now we will see Elain making things happen. Changes like that are inevitable, necessary, but not out of character.

Now, if Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie became warriors, why would it be so out of character for Elain to become a spy?

Personally, I think if Elain became a warrior, that could be considered out of character, because Sarah already told us that her strength comes from a different place:

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.

Of course, this is Feyre's Pov, but is also SJM talking about Elain's nature.

We have to understand the difference between characters' point of view and what SJM is trying to tell us. For example, Nesta in ACOSF had one perception of Elain ("she is like a dog"), but SJM emphasized Nesta's perception as not correspondent to Elain's behavior. How? Using that scene where Elain talks about Nesta's dancing. in that moment, Cassian and the readers realized Nesta's point of view was biased, non correspondent to what Elain was showing us in that scene.

I'm saying that because there's a difference between narrator and author. But this is another discussion entirely.

But I truly believe from what we have seen so far, Elain isn't the warrior type. And despite the fact that we had just read ACOSF, therefore another book about warriors training doesn't sound so appealing, from what we had seen until now, Elain's has potencial (build up) to go to another direction, one that we haven't seen yet.

3. Elain already has what it takes

I want to look at this:

I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadow.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

For the record, Feyre said this in ACOWAR and these both scenes are very close to each other.

Spying is not all about shadows and stealth. Azriel works from the shadows, but if Elain can be so lovely and convincing that anyone would do anything for her, she could be a different kind of spy. And with her Seer powers, she could be a valuable one. As much or even more than the Night Court spymaster. Look at this:

Shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.

We know Elain can be almost as stealthy as Azriel. And she is a Seer, which means she can See and hear things others can't, too. Not to mention we already have seen that she is observant and knows how to keep a secret.

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away [...] No one will know.”

“I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Not only she is observant, but also knows how to read people, to understand them. Look at these scenes where Nesta said basically the same thing, but Feyre didn't understand her. Elain on the other hand...

With Feyre:

“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.” Despite the sound shield around us, there was nothing to block the view of my sister baring her teeth. The view of her fingers curling into invisible claws. A scene. This was about to become a scene in the worst way. (ACOFAS)

With Elain:

"[...] if Father were here—”

“Don’t ever mention him.” Nesta bared her teeth, but kept her voice low. "Never fucking mention him again.”

Pain slowly washed over Elain’s face. And understanding. “Is that what this is all about? Father?” Silver lined Elain’s eyes, but her voice remained steady, sure. “There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta." (ACOSF)

Elain understood exactly what was going on with Nesta.

Nothing is more telling to me than this, and I highly doubt SJM didn't want to show us not only Nesta's internal issues, but how Elain can understand and read very others very easily as well.

Elain also understood when Feyre wasn't sure about buying gifts. And not get me started on Azriel's bonus chapter, where it's emphasized repeatedly that they can read and comprehend each other without necessarily saying what they meant. This shows a connection between them, yes, but also a skill.

Just imagine how valuable and rare she would be for the Night Court.

And the best part is it wouldn't be out of character, because she already presented those features. Besides, Elain can be lovely, delicate and be a bad ass spy (or whatever she wishes to, tbh) . Even better: she can use those characteristics in her favor.

Do not forget what Rhysand said: Elain is sweet and she is not afraid of get her hands dirty. We just haven't seen that yet, because SJM will show us that in her book. Simple as that.

4. Elain being a spy attends SJM's pattern

In every book (or series) so far we had a female character learning something new. Feyre learned how to control her powers (and to read), Nesta learned how to be a warrior. I think it's safe to say that Elain will learn something in order to be developed as a character.

You could argue she could learn anything, which is fair. But in ACOSF we learned that Elain can be stealthy as well. SJM emphasized it again and again, and there is no way in hell she did that just for fun. It's safe to say by now that even if she doesn't become a spy, this ability will play a role in her book.

A few examples that we all know too well by now:

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

"You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

She'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.

What is curious is that stealth is associated with Azriel, but also with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain's friends. (Here, I highly recommend this amazing post for more on this friendship and what it means to Elain’s future).

I don't have a doubt the next book is about Elain, it will be her book. So you can't tell me the fact that her friends and love interest are spies is just a coincidence or that won't mean anything. Not when Elain herself has already started to show that she can be just as stealthy and subtle as any of them.

In this scenario, we have:

Elain learning how to be a spy with Azriel, whilst they work together to find the Trove and help each other to heal from their issues.

A female main character learning something new with the help from her love interest whilst they work together to solve a problem connected to the main plot and help each oher to heal from their issues.

I PRESENT YOU THE SJM'S PATTERN.

I know some people like or don't like this theory because that would mean Elain would have a connection to Azriel or because they don't like her becoming "similar to Azriel".

But the thing is: they already share a connection, they know each other for almost two years now and most of their interactions happened "off-screen", so they don't need her to become a spy to want to be together. They already do.

And mostly important, she wouldn't become similar to Azriel, because Elain already has the required features. We don't know much about her, but so far what we do know is: she is stealthy and a good secret keeper. She knows how to read and understand people. She can hear and see things others can't, because she is a Seer, and she can be convincing af.

Most of those were emphasized again in ACOSF concomitantly with Elain's another side. (Tell me again the next book isn't about her).

And again: a female character learning something with her love interest is SJM's pattern. We've just read a book that follows this exactly structure. Are we going to say Nesta or Feyre lost their characterization because they learned and now share the same abilities as Cassian and Rhys?

SJM already answered that for us in ACOSF:

“Does it undermine my image as a warrior to be with you?”

“No. Does it undermine Feyre’s when she’s seen with Rhys?”

This is so telling, I literally stopped my reading at this. We tend to put this passage aside because of what comes next (Cassian being very discreet and screaming he's Nesta's mate to every single soul in Velaris to hear), which is totally fair. But right there, SJM is telling us that female characters sharing abilities with their love interests is no reason to undermine them. On the contrary, in her books this is a way for them to heal togheter.

Knowing SJM, Elain being a spy along with Azriel, Nuala and Cerridwen wouldn't be nothing new. We have seen this story over and over again.

We have so much build up for this, I could go on and on and on. And before someone says this won't work because Azriel has to stay away from her, just take a second to think about how much tension we would get if they are forced to work together in order to find the Trove (or any other reason that SJM will come up with). We'll have a story full of secrets, tension, drama, angst, passion, desire, love. Things too easy don't make a good story.

But at the end, even if she does not become a spy, I just think we have many possibilities for Elain and an amazing story ahead of us. I really want people to keep an open mind about her and her book and not judge too harsh amazing possibilities as out of character. If Nesta hadn't became a warrior, we wouldn't have known the Valkyries. So maybe, when you judge a possibility like that, you are closing yourself to an amazing journey.

And also, Nesta was once judged and hated. A lot of people ended up changing their minds, which is great because she is awesome. So I think we already learned that lesson.

We will see another side of Elain emerge and she will surprise us. That's not me, that's SJM. She already told us that. Repeatedly.

All of this just to say: keep an open mind about Elain. She has what it takes and will surprise us - and I can't wait to see her becoming a badass.

#pro elain #elriel #a court of silver flames #acotar 5 #elain archeron #spy elain #acotar theory #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #elain x nuala x cerridwen #acotar theories #pro elriel #elriel theory

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

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Speak Easy Part 10

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 7142

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

*********************************************************************

“Hold her down! Fuck! How is she still this strong? How much did you give her?”

Your vision was black, and you couldn’t tell if that was because you were blindfolded or just too drugged up to open your eyes. You could hear shuffling as two? No three people moved around you. One was pinning your arms down while another played with the collar that was digging into your neck.

“Listen man, I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here. If they find out we played with their new toy they’ll be pissed!”

There was a new set of hands gently pushing your flimsy medical gown up, “You heard what they were saying right? They said she’s the best sex a man will ever have in their life. It’s like her quirk or something.” You wanted to cry out, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Were you even able to speak? Were you gagged? You couldn’t even tell. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” The hand firmly pressed into your hip. “Now hold her down, and make sure she stays quiet.”

You woke with a rush. Your breath beyond labored as you tried to run from the memories that refused to stay hidden for long. A new set of hands circled around your waist. These hands were different though. These hands were rough and callused. These hands were patient. These hands were reassuring.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head before turning into him and burying your face into his chest. “Just another bad memory.”

His fingers trailed through your hair as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head. “Sometimes I wish I could just hop into your head, like you did mine the other night. Then I could see their faces. And I never forget a face…”

You heard the unsaid threat in his words. He wanted to know your demons so he could hunt them down. He was like Bakugo in that way. They both needed to do something…anything to make them feel like they were helping. The only difference is at the end of the day Bakugo’s victims end up in prison and Dabi’s end up six feet under.

The pounding in your head only seemed to increase. The drums of regret beating behind your eyeballs. “God.. why did we drink so much yesterday?” You groaned and curled further into Dabi’s side.

His fingers rubbed at your temples. “I seem to remember it being your idea. And who am I to deny the drinking queen.”

You groaned as you remembered your antics. “I know you’re not exactly known for being a good influence… but you could have tried a little harder to at least get me to drink some water.”

Dabi vibrated with soft chuckles. “Consider your hangover penance for making me play that ridiculous game. Now get off of me and go take a shower. You smell like a bar.”

With a pouting look you sighed, “But I’m still sad.”

Dabi gave your ass a hard slap. “There is no rule that says you can’t be sad and in the shower. Get your ass in there and clean yourself up. You’ll feel better after your clean and fed. I promise.”

With a chorus of dramatic groans and muffled curses you pulled yourself off of him and slowly made your way to his bathroom. You stopped right before you crossed the threshold and turned to give him your poutiest look, “Are you really going to make me do it alone.”

A pillow flew through the air faster than you thought possible and hit you in the face. “You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. I have other things I need to take care of.”

You stuck your bottom lip out, “Just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to.”

Like a man possessed, Dabi slowly got out of bed. He moved so slow, as if he was a predator stalking his prey. You instinctively held your breath in anticipation as he inched closer and closer. His eyes like a dim fire, but focused on you all the same. He invaded your personal space, slamming his hand on the door behind you beside your head. He leaned down until his nose brushed yours and his lips hovered over yours.

You closed your eyes as he leaned closer but right before your lips connected, “I don’t remember asking what you wanted. You need to take a shower, and I need to handle some business. If you’re still this desperate later then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you.” He gripped your chin and bumped your nose with his. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to fall into a habit of letting me have my way with you every time you have a bad memory. It’s not fair to either of us.” You felt a single tear streak down your cheek as you nodded. “If it’s just a distraction fine, but you need to learn how to confront and deal with this shit on your own. It’ll just be harder later if you don’t. Believe me.”

A few beats of silence passed before he reluctantly backed away from you. His fingers lingering before letting go of you completely. It wasn’t until he was exiting his room you had the nerve to speak up. “You’re not just a distraction.”

There was no telling if he actually heard you or not. If he did, he didn’t react or respond. Your admission caught you surprise, and you almost hoped he hadn’t. You thought about this weird new attachment you were feeling to Dabi lately while you took your shower. You wouldn’t go as far as to call this foreign new feeling love or anything crazy like that. But you were growing quite fond of his presence. You felt comfort in his warmth, and you appreciated the way his hands always knew just wear to touch to ease your anxiety. Sure, he was a certified asshole, but at least he kept you strong. He made sure you took care of yourself. He didn’t take your shit or your excuses. He got you walking, talking, and opening up within weeks.

You went through your routine slowly, taking your time under the hot water. You’d rather not think about the memory that surfaced last night. But Dabi was right. You needed to take time to work things out yourself. His comfort was more of a band aid, a temporary fix. You needed to at least try to heal on your own.

You had no idea when it happened. It seemed like it was pretty early in your captivity. Back when you still had a little fight in you. You didn’t actually remember what happened after that but you can only assume the worst. Your skin crawled at the thought. You hugged yourself as you let the water hit your back. You closed your eyes as you let your heart beat slowly even out. You refused to let this define you. You were more than your trauma. You thought about Dabi again. He had his own scars. Both literally and figuratively. He had to look in the mirror every day and see the evidence of his trauma every day. If he could do that then you could do this.

One look into the mirror showed that your hair was absurdly long. You would need to cut it soon. But for now, you could just braid it. You giggled as you finished, it was like you had a secret weapon. It gave you a childish idea.

Skipping out of the room you made your way to the kitchen where Dabi was currently on the phone. If hero training taught you anything, it was stealth.

Silent as a mouse you tiptoed up to his turned back.

“We’ll be fine. You’re more than welcome to come if you’re that worried, but I promise it’s not a big deal.” You paused right before you pounced on him, curiosity getting the best of you. “I’ll send you the location, as well as updates. Will that make you feel better?” You could hear a rough voice on the other end and you instinctively knew it was Katsuki. “She’s fine, calm down already. She’s behind me right now thinking she’s sneaky would you like to talk to her?” You leapt at him swinging your braid like a whip and hitting him in the chest.

You froze as Dabi’s gaze flipped to you in seconds. “You want to talk to him?”

You silently nodded as you excepted the phone from him. “Hi…”

A relieved sigh, “I was worried you’d still be mad at me.”

You suddenly wished he was physically here so you could reassure him. “It was silly for me to react that way. It’s obviously not your fault. It… it just sucks.”

“I know…”

So many words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t make yourself say them. “I feel like we need to talk, but I don’t want it to be over the phone.”

Katsuki gave a nervous chuckle, “Well I guess you’re in luck.” The doorbell rang out and you almost dropped Dabi’s phone.

Dabi took his phone back from you before stomping off to open the front door. “I really didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I said you could come.”

Without breaking eye contact with you Katsuki entered the house, “Well you did offer, and I did come. So, quite bitching and deal with it.” He noticed your nervous posture and he softened, which was something you didn’t think he was capable of. “You want to hash it out here, or would you like to talk privately?”

You nodded your head towards the back door, “It’s a nice day. We can sit on the patio.”

Dabi was secretly grateful. You would get the chance to have an honest conversation with Bakugo while also staying where he could see you.

Katsuki followed you out to the garden. He notices how you refused to look at the pool but he didn’t comment on it. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

You collapsed into your chair and sighed. “I think we need to.” You looked up and your eyes locked with his vermillion ones. “Look, I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. I just… It’s just not fair.” You huffed as you averted your eyes. “That sounds so fucking childish but it’s how I feel. You, Izuku, Shoto, you all got to achieve your dreams. You’re heroes. But the people who did this, who are still doing this to me… they’re technically heroes too.”

His hands squeezed yours, but he made no attempt to cut off your little rant. “They would never do this to you. No one would even believe them if they tried. The public love you guys and you’re damn good at your jobs… and yet there’s nothing you can do to help me…” You could feel his gaze on you and your cheeks reddened. “I just feel helpless and stupid. Stupid for believing so much in the system. Stupid for falling for all their little tricks. Stupid for not seeing the bigger picture. And at the end of the day I can’t even fight it because I did those things… well not all of it, but a good majority. All I can do is lay low and pray no one ever finds me. I’m fucking helpless.”

He grunted and his grip on your hand tightened. “It kills me. You say I’m a hero and I can’t even save you.” You finally looked at him again and all you saw in his eyes now was raw anger. “I’ve never been so confused… so helpless in my life. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know who’s on what side. Was my whole life a lie? Do real heroes even truly exist? Or are we all just pawns in some fucking bigger game?” His voice began to break under his emotion. “I love you y/n. I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. Maybe even since we were kids. And I can’t sleep at night because out of everyone in the world you were the one I couldn’t save. I blame myself every day. I tell myself if I had just fucking manned up and told you how I felt sooner then maybe we would have had a chance… and maybe I would have noticed when shit started going sideways.”

There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger once more. “Now you’re with him and it feels like I’ve completely lost you. Not that I’m complaining. If he’s what you need to heal then… whatever, I’ll just have to get over it. But I need you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. I don’t care who you’re with, who’s after you, I don’t care! You are and will always be my top priority.” You rubbed reassuring circles into his hand with your thumb. “You say it’s not fair and I get it. It’s not. It’s disgusting. You don’t deserve any of this. For the first time in my life it has me questioning what side I’m on.”

Your entire lives the only things Katsuki seemed to care about was becoming the number one hero and beating Izuku. So, to hear him say that he’s now questioning that broke your heart. “Katsuki, please don’t say that. Even if the hero system is fucked up. That’s doesn’t mean all heroes are too. You’re in it for the right reasons. I have no doubt that if all the hero agencies crumble today, tomorrow you’d be right back on those streets defending the people. You don’t need an official rank to be the number one.”

He let out a huge sigh and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. It was like a huge weight had lifted off of him. He gave you one of his trademark smirks, although it was a little softer than usual. “You always seem to know what to say when I’m falling apart.”

You ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, “I’d like to think I am an expert Katsuki bomb defuser at this point.” He rolled his eyes, but you could see the slight pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I’ve spent most of my life finding ways to calm you down before you explode, and honestly I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Even though half the time it ended in scrapped knees and pulled pigtails?”

“Sometimes it ended in shared ice cream and hand holding.” You giggled, “You used to hold my hand all the damn time when we were little. Dragging me from one place to the next, always so impatient.” You gave him a puzzled look, “But then one day you stopped out of nowhere and told me it was gross.”

“Tsk. You have my shitty mother to thank for that. When my quirk started developing, she told me to stop holding your hand because I might blow you up.” He gave you sly smile, “Technically she was right, but it still scared the shit out of me.”

You both talked and giggled for what felt like hours. The weight of the pervious day slowly floating away. You probably would have stayed that way for much longer if his phone hadn’t gone off interrupting the two of you.

He glared at his screen before grunting. “I’ve been here too long. I need to get going.” He stood from his comfortable spot next to you and stretched. He gave you a long look over from you head to your toes and back. “I promise I’ll try to not obsess over what you and staples do when I’m not around, if you promise to not do anything stupid.”

“You know I can’t promise that. Weren’t you the one who used to say stupid was my middle name?” He gave you an unamused look and crossed his arms over his chest in frustration. You cut him off before he could start on a lecture. “I promise to try to behave and stay out of trouble. There feel better?”

A drawn our sigh left his lips. If his expression was any indicator, your promise did absolutely nothing for his nerves. “I guess it’ll have to be good enough.” He leaned over and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be back to check on you in a few days, alright?”

You nodded as he reluctantly made his way back towards the house. You watched him leave but decided to stay outside a little longer. It really was nice outside, and you wanted some more time to yourself before Dabi grilled you about your conversation with Katsuki.

---

Bakugo stomped back into the house and wasn’t surprised when he was quickly apprehended by the very man that plagued his thoughts. “Oi, whatever it is you want to say, say it quick. I got to get out of here before they notice I left.”

“I know the two of you have a lot of history… So…” He looked uncomfortable for a brief second. “She just looks happy when you visit… so uh… thanks.”

Bakugo had to blink back his surprise. He had been preparing himself for a fight. “Yeah well… you obviously aren’t doing a bad job either… she seems comfortable around you.”

The two men spent the next few moments awkwardly staring at each other before Bakugo cleared his throat. “Listen. I think it’s obvious I have feeling for her. She knows that now. But at the end of the day I just want her to be happy. Maybe if things had gone differently, we would have ended up together, and maybe one day we still will. But she’s gone through enough shit recently, and if… if you’re what she needs right now… Then I wont get in the way.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised. Everything he knew about the great Dynamight was his unwavering need to be the best, to win, to conquer all opponents. So to him conceding really showed not only how much he had matured in recent years but also how serious he took his relationship with you.

“I’ll always be there for her. Like you said she likes it when I come to visit, so I’ll keep coming around.”

To this Dabi groaned, “Coming to visit is one thing, but hanging all over her and kissing her in front of me is another. Keep your sweaty hands to yourself.”

Bakugo barked out a laugh, “I kissed the top of her head calm down. Don’t tell me you’re not up for a little competition?” When Dabi’s only answer was to only narrow his eyes Bakugo smiled. “Just because I’m not going to throw a fit about the two of you… doing whatever it is you’re doing… doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up. If you ever mess up, and let’s be honest you probably will… I’m going to be there for her.”

“I’m actually counting on it.”

Bakugo gave him one last glance before nodding and making his way towards the exit.

Dabi joined you outside as the soft breeze kissed his always too warm skin. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his heavy feet approaching. “If you’re grumpy about Katsuki I don’t want to hear about it.”

His large form blocked the sun as he hovered over you. “What would I have to be grumpy about? He’s not the one you were begging to fuck you in the shower this morning.” His rough hands ran over your bare legs. “Put some real clothes on we have some errands to run.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Errands? Like we’re leaving the house? I’m going outside?”

“Well technically you go outside all the time, but yes, you will be leaving the property today. Stretch your legs, get some fresh air and all that good stuff. I don’t know if you noticed but we are really low on groceries and there’s only enough ice cream left for one of us and I don’t like you enough to share… So go change.”

You practically sprinted back to your room. You threw on the one dress you had that had come in one of your care packages from Izuku and Shoto. The only other clothes you had were either T-shirts, pajamas, or belonged to Dabi.

You knew you had a pair of shoes somewhere, but you couldn’t remember where you put them. You hadn’t exactly needed them until now. The longer you looked the more your nerves ate at you.

Were you ready to leave? You were safe here. Did you want to leave your little bubble?

You knew Dabi wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but it was still terrifying.

A soft knock broke you from your thoughts. “What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry, can’t find my shoes.”

To this he nodded, “Oh they’re in the garage.”

“How did they get there?”

He shrugged, “You threw them at me once, so I hid them.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you made your way over to him. “What you scared or something?”

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you to him, “Oh a shoe? No. Of you throwing said shoe at me? Of course. I would be stupid not to be afraid of you.”

You smiled proudly, “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

He gave your hips a squeeze, “I could get used to seeing you in a dress.” His hand snaked around to you lower back finding your long braid and grinned evilly as he grabbed it and wrapped it around his wrist effectively pulling you head back and baring your neck to him. “Oh and this braid is amazing.” His lips brushed over your bare shoulder, then your neck, your cheek, before finally giving you a quick peck on your lips.

You reached up on your tippy toes to ghost your lips over his. “Remember when I wanted to have sex this morning and your promised if I was still desperate later, you’d fuck me?” A fire lit in his eyes as he silently nodded. “You leaned even closer but still kept your lips from fully connecting with his. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“UGH!” His hands left you as he did what you could only assume was his version of pouting. “You fucking brat…Let’s go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and lock ourselves in our room.”

Our room? It was the first time he had said that. You weren’t sure which room he was referring to, but either way, you kind of liked the way it sounded.

You held your hand out to him, “Oh come on now. Don’t be like that. You can hold my hand.”

He glared at you then your hand and then back to you. “No thanks. They probably are still covered in nitroglycerin from your little friend and I’d hate to accidentally look control of my quirk and blow us up.”

You balled up the hand you had offered to him and punched his shoulder, “Who’s the brat now?”

He led you to the garage in silence, noticing the way your shoulders tensed the closer you got. Right before you reached the door, he stopped you. “I know this is probably just as scary as it is exciting so just need you to remember a couple things, okay? One.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I think we both know I’m not above cremating someone’s fingers off if they even so much as look at you the wrong way. Two. You are way stronger than you feel right now. You may have been through hell, but you came out stronger than you went in.”

His eyes suddenly got very serious. “And most importantly three. Despite number one and two, I need you to be careful and stay close to me. I can’t help you if I can’t get to you, and just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. It’s just a quick run to a grocery store and back. No reason to get into any trouble.”

You nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to overpower your nerves. He looked you up and down and smirked. His fingers came up to pinch your nipple through your dress which had you immediately moaning and pressing closer to him. “I’ll tell you what…one thing we will not being buying today is a bra.” Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip as you held back a whine of pleasure. He gave your nipple one last tug before letting go and backing away. “I love the easy access.”

You took a steadying breath before following him into the garage. You opened the door to the familiar car. The last time you had been in this car, you had been mute, malnourished, and Dabi was digging into you with his knife. You stared at the passenger seat for a moment too long.

“I promise not to stab you again, now hurry up and get in.” You took another moment to appreciate how far you’ve come since the last time you were in this car.

The second your ass was in the seat, Dabi was buckling your seat belt and pulling a hat over your head. “Here put these on too.” He handed you a pair or sunglasses. “We’re going out in disguise.” He smirked, “Well you are, there’s really no way for me to hide this handsome mug.”

“I don’t know. you have white hair now. Match that with some glasses and a bag over your head, and I don’t think anyone would recognize you.”

He reached over you and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a medical mask out of his glove box. “Hmm fresh out of bags. Maybe we should pick some up for later.” He wagged his eyebrows at you.

The wind blew through the open windows as the music surrounded you. For a moment it was easy to close your eyes and pretend this was just a normal day. The past few years didn’t happen, and you were just headed to the store on your day off. You hummed along with the song and even dared to sing a few words.

Dabi suddenly found it hard to concentrate with you singing next to him. He could feel your hum vibrate in his bones. Your words filled his lungs with air while simultaneously making it harder to breath. He’d like to think this was part of your quirk. But something told him it was something else entirely.

Before he could stop himself, his hand found it’s way to your thigh. He had no other intention than just touching you. He just wanted to feel you, feel your skin on his. Your presence filled the car and his hands itched to connect with you in any way they could.

His thumb rubbed absentminded circles as he found himself being hypnotized by your existence. The spell only broken when he pulled into a parking spot. Now reality was crashing back in. He suddenly had the need to rush you back home and lock you away. This world was awful. It didn’t deserve you. “Sorry… Sometimes my singing does that. I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Your hand ran through his hair as if the friction would reboot his thoughts. You could see the confused desire in his eyes start to fade. “I can’t explain it, but just like how my voice can hypnotize, sometimes when I sing it amplifies whatever it is you want in the moment.” You shrugged, “It so rarely happens that I don’t really know what triggers it.”

With a final blink of his eyes his thoughts seemed to clear. The overwhelming desire ebbed but didn’t disappear completely. He was quick to grab your hand as soon as you had both exited the car. “Oh? And what happened to there being too much nitroglycerin on my hands?”

“Shut up.” He yanked your arm rather aggressively as he stormed off into the store.

You weren’t prepared for how ridiculous you would feel. You wish you could take a picture to send to the yourself a few years ago. Here you were with a white haired, former villain Dabi, who had a grocery basket in one hand and your hand in the other. Both of looking totally inconspicuous as the florescent lights reflected off of your sunglasses that he insisted needed to stay on. The borderline elevator music that played in over the speakers just daring you to giggle.

With half of your shopping done you came to the realization that you had been freaking out over nothing. It wasn’t like there was someone hiding behind every corner waiting to drag you back to the lab. Just because it seemed like the world was out to get you didn’t actually mean the world was out to get you.

You were starting to let your guard down just a little bit. You let go of Dabi’s hand for all of ten seconds, which apparently was enough for a lecture. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hand hovered over a box of cereal, “Uh… I’m sorry do you not like Lucky Charms? Are you more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kinda guy?”

He snagged a box off the shelf before grabbing your hand again. “For my sanity… please don’t let go of my hand.”

“Oh come on I was all of two feet away. What’s going to happen in two feet.”

He lowered his sunglasses so you could see how serious he was. “If we lived in a world where everyone was quirkless… not a lot. But here in this world, where people can do bat shit crazy things… Super speed, portals, explosions, flight, laser beams, do you need me to keep going.”

“Okay I get it. I’m sorry.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he pulled you down the next isle. He was making it really hard to act normal when he insisted on treating you like a child. You gave his hand a tug to get his attention. “Hey look at me.” He hesitated momentarily before turning to look at you and pulling you both to a stop. By the way he was looking at you he knew you were upset, but he looked like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. “I get that you’re on edge, but I’m not a child. You gave me this huge speech before we left the house, but now you’re the one freaking out.” You gave him a quick hug. “Out of respect for your paranoia, I promise to stay within arm’s reach. But remember I’m not helpless.”

His shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyways. “Yeah my bad. I think I just underestimated how uncomfortable I’d be.” His shoulder bumped yours. “But until we get back home…I’m going to keep being an overprotective asshole, and you have no choice but to deal with it.” He started his dragging you down isles again. “You may not be a child, but if you pull away from me again, I will literally find a collar and a leash and make you my pet for the day.”

“You’re joking right… right?” He had to be joking. There’s no way he’d follow through with that… right? Part of you knew he honestly would and he’d probably fucking love it.

“Why don’t you keep fucking around and find out?” He smirked which made it even harder to figure out if he was serious or not.

You decided you weren’t going to test him. Not today. Hopefully there would be more trips in your future, and maybe he’d ease up by then. Today he seemed stressed enough to actually snap and follow through with his threat.

He continued to hold the basket for you while he let you reach out and grab whatever you wanted. He wasn’t even really paying attention to the items you were putting in the basket, as his head remained on a swivel, looking for anything suspicious. If he had, he would have noticed it was predominantly junk food. That’s fine. You could stand to gain a few more pounds. He’d make sure to sneak some healthy stuff in there at some point.

You were making your way to check out when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Dabi? Hey man is that you?” He instinctively placed you behind him as he turned to face his old colleague. “Holy shit it is you! I wasn’t sure because your hair it totally different, but those staples are a dead giveaway. What’s up man? Haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”

You clung to the back of his shirt and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’m doing my own thing now.” His voice was much lower than usual and it sent chills down your spine.

When the mystery man caught on that he wasn’t going to get any more out of him he pressed, “I heard there’s a couple of the guys who’ve been trying to get ahold of you recently. They need help with something. The money’s supposed to be pretty good.”

The man’s eyes shifted to try and get a look at you behind Dabi, but Dabi just shifted to shield you from view. “Not interested. I have enough money.” The man was starting to give him a weird look and it was pissing Dabi off. “Do you have a problem?”

“No, but obviously you do. What crawled up your ass and died? And who’s your new little friend?” He craned his neck to try get a peek at you. “As long as I’ve known you, I never knew you to be the domestic type. She the reason you’ve fallen off the grid?”

Dabi’s hand started to glow with flames. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your fucking business.”

“Oh shit. She must be something special to get the big bad Dabi playing guard dog.” He lifted his hands up in surrender, “But don’t worry about it, man. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dabi kept his eyes on him until he was out of sight and quickly turned back to the check-out line, “We need to hurry and get the hell out of here. That guy works for the League as a hitman. It’s possible we didn’t see him by accident.” He ushered you through the line and quickly paid for the few groceries you had and was practically sprinting towards the exit.

You made it back to the car and you let go of his hand to quickly make you way around to the passenger side. You had your hand on the door handle when your instincts started screaming. Your eyes cut to the store and then back to Dabi. “I think someone’s i-“

A hand slammed on top of your mouth as you were pulled backwards and in a whirl of wind and disorienting speed you ended up on the other end of the parking and moments later you saw blue fames spurting off in all directions where you had been standing earlier.

“What a temper that guy has.”

You looked up and saw the man from the store. His quirk must have been super speed and you knew you’d never hear the end of this from Dabi.

His hand gripped your chin, “What’s so special about you huh? What could you possibly have that would domesticate that beast of a man?” He pushed you to your knees in front of him.

Your panic was setting in. All the years of training, all the hard work you put in, and the only thing you could think of was running away. You bottom lip trembled. “I’m quirkless… I’m his… his pet.” You hoped you could find a way to stall for time. You had faith Dabi could handle whoever he was currently fighting and then he’d come for you. You just needed to make sure this guy didn’t run off with you again.

The man laughed loudly, “I have to admit I always thought he was a bit of a freak. But having a quirkless little play thing isn’t what I was expecting.” He turned your head to one side and then the other getting a good look at you. “You sure are fucking pretty though… I guess I can see the appeal. Maybe I’ll take you with me.”

Your fight or flight was kicking in, and you knew for a fact there was no outrunning this man. You activated your quirk and locked eyes with him. This was the first time you had used your quirk offensively in a long time. But it was like riding a bike. First you used your voice. “You don’t want to do that. No, you’re a good boy. You want to let me go.”

You watched as his eyes glassed over briefly before he shook his head. “What the fuck! Get out of my head! Quirkless my ass!” His hand left your chin and back handed you. Your head hit a cement parking divider. So maybe it wasn’t like riding a bike.

You needed to focus. No half assing this. Growing up you had learned that your quirk was like a battery. You could either go at full strength for a short period of time or lower strength for a longer period of time. You just needed to up the strength. “I SAID!”

He sprinted away before you could finish talking. You looked around frantically to see where he went but before you could find him he was sprinting by you and kicking you as he passed. His strategy was smart. You wouldn’t be able to get him if he kept moving. He continued his game of sprinting by you and kicking you or hitting you until you were a bloody mess on the ground. Where the fuck was Dabi?

You were pissed. You had had definitely been through worse. You spit out some blood from your split lip. “You hit like a fucking bitch!” You smeared blood and saliva all over your hands and waited. “Fucking fight me you pussy!”

You listened closely for the familiar sound of him approaching. Right before he got to you you rolled over and grabbed his leg as he attempted to kick you. You tackled him to the ground and shoved your hand in his face smearing your blood all over his face, forcing your blood and spit into his mouth.

He sputtered before shoving you off of him and spitting on you. “What the fuck? You’re fucking disgusting!” He tried to stand up to get away from you, but your quirk was starting to work on him. You blood was slowly paralyzing him. You watched as his eyes started to harden inn fear.

“Great keep those open for me.” You locked eyes with him again. “What did you want with Dabi?”

You watched his thoughts as he showed you instructions from Shigaraki. He was supposed to locate Dabi and ask him what his connection was to the people who worked for your hero agency. Apparently, word had gotten out that he had been hunting people and The League wanted to know why.

You heard footsteps rapidly approaching you. You swung around as fast as you throbbing head would let you. Relief flooded over your entire body when you saw it was Dabi. He skidded to a stop when he saw the state you were in. He looked between you and the now paralyzed man on the ground. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

The man managed a creepy chuckle. “She must be that siren hero everyone’s looking for huh?” You were impressed he could still talk at this point, but it was obvious the rest of his body was frozen. “They said she was dangerous…she didn’t feel that dangerous when my foot was connecting with her face.”

Dabi let out a feral growl and he stalked over to him hands out ready to burn him to ashes.

“Dabi NO!” You coughed as you grabbed your ribs. “Stop… he can’t move. We can just call Katsuki, he’ll come pick him up.”

Dabi turned to look at you, his eyes practically glowing. “No fucking way. He’s seen you, he knows too much.” The flames in his hands got hotter. “Just look at what he fucking did to you! He’s not leaving here alive. So either you let me burn him and scatter the evidence or you take this fucking knife I have in my pocket and kill him yourself. Either way this asshole dies now. I told him to mind his own fucking business… he signed his own death sentence.”

You stood up and squared off with him. “I said no… We don’t have to kill him. We can just turn him in!”

“YOU CANT BE THAT STUPID!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair leaving black streak of soot in their wake in his white hair. “We turn him in, he gets arrested. The people who are looking for you… the ‘heroes’ will integrate him and find out your with me. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before we’re on the run.” He reached in his pocket and held out a knife to you, “He dies now. End of discussion. What’ll it be.”

You looked at the knife in his hand before crossing your arms over your chest and averting your eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t watch as he incinerated the man who was helpless to stop it, but you could smell the burning flesh and you could hear the brief scream of agony before it was gone.

Dabi waited until his hands had cooled down before he bent over and scooped you up. “It had to be done.” The car was still running with the driver door open from where he had driven over here and hopped out. He tucked you into the font seat and took a look into the back seat, “Fuck… the ice cream is melting.”

Your eyes bulged at him as he gunned it towards the main road, “You just murdered someone with no sympathy, but heaven forbid the ice cream melts!”

“Actually, I just murdered two people. And I would do it again without hesitation. I was looking forward to that ice cream!”

********

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99

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raggydraws · 4 years

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Hey guys! I've had a lot of ideas I wanna share with you that we're inspired by our lovely Battle Medic Breezepelt anon, @lesbiandicegoblin, and another lovely asker (who I tried to look for but could find) who made a gender neutral term for permanent nursery residents called Royalty! I made,,,,a bunch of other jobs/professions for warriors and medicine cats! Plus some unique jobs/subclasses for all the canon clans. Here they are, there's a lot!

Different roles in the clans!

Besides Leader, deputy, medcat, warriors, queens and elders! All cats old enough to serve their clan are considered warriors. Cats can also just simply be a warrior or a medicine cat with no subclass, or they can double up in professions if they so choose. However some subclasses cannot be doubled up (Seer) or are restricted to certain cats (Older cats cannot be Mediators, warriors cannot becomes Seers, Seers cannot become Royalty, etc)

Warrior subclasses found commonly in all clans are: Scouts, Hunters, Wardens, Builders, Lore keepers, Royalty and Mediators!

Scout: Cats who are very fast, usually the first cats out and about in the mornings to scout out hunting spots. Usually the cats who patrol the most and are often in back of battles in case they need to run to camp for reinforcements.

Hunter: Cats who specialize in the art of hunting, doesn't always mean hunting prey. Typically the cats who hunt the most and often work alongside Scouts when leaf-bare rolls around.

Warden: Camp defenders, often referred to as Stone Wardens in riverclan, these cats are typically large and powerful to defend their clanmates in the event of an invasion. Clans will usually have 2 to 4 Wardens, 2 for the camp entrance, 1 for the nursery and 1 for the elders.

Builders: Cats who are very clever and work with plant fibers and other building materials to keep up the dens of their camps. Often also the cats who end up cleaning the camp the most often, typically a job for older cats but many apprentices will also help and use the skills learned in creative ways.

Lorekeeper: The storytellers and historians of the clans. Often considered an elders job, cats of all ages will agree a good story is great for morale. Apart from telling stories these cats are also the keepers of their own personal clan history alongside general history of the clans. These cats are also in charge of teaching the young cats the basic clan history they need.

Royalty: Permanent Queens, Kings and the in betweens of the nursery, these cats are the parents of all the clan's inhabitants. Often another form of retirement for some warriors, the cats who choose to become Royalty over any other professional are revered and respected as the backbone of all clans. Royalty are in charge of the care and raising of any kits and their parents who reside in the nursery. They are also often retired or still active Wardens or Court Medics as well. (Made by Royalty anon, please let me know if you want proper credit I couldn't find you i apologize!)

Mediator: The peace keepers of the clans, these cats are the opposite of canon medicine cats. Picked from an early age as to prevent any biases from forming, Mediators are considered to be from all the clans. Mediators spend their apprenticeship bounced between all professions and all the clans so they have information and experience in all things. These cats are also the least bound by the warrior code, as they are loyal to the clans as a whole. These cats also tend to form half clan relationships and usually are half-clan themselves. Clans typically have 2 mediators at a time, the senior mediator and the apprentice, and the only time when there might be more than 2 is the overlap between a retired mediator and a newly appointed one.

Medicines cat subclasses commonly found in all clans are: Seer, Gardener, Battle Medic and Court Medic.

Seer: The medicine cat who has the strongest connection to StarClan, typically the senior medicine cat but not always. These cats are trained closest to the medicine cat code and usually trained away from camp and their clanmates to sever any familial bonds to stay completely unbiased. These cats have training for omen sightings and medical knowledge, but no training in fighting or hunting in order to stay 'pure' in the eyes of Starclan. Considered to be the only 'true' medicine cat and only subclass that can't be doubled up with other subclasses. (In reference to the GreenRose Au, these are the cats who receive the gift of the 'Spark' from Starclan.)

Gardener: either a regular warrior acting as an assistant or a medicine cat who tends to the art of herb gardening/gathering and the foraging of herbs! These cats can be anyone who takes to the art, or a medicine cat who simply enjoys it more so than their other options. Cats who help out a lot but don't participate in the art of gardening are called Helpful Paws or Healpaws depending on the clan.

Battle Medic: Medicine cats (or assistants) who serve the front lines of battles, often directly participating in the fight healing any injured clanmates or dragging away those who are too injured to continue fighting. These cats are trained in fighting and are only allowed to use this training self defense, of either themselves or their patients. Battle Medics are not allowed to attack other medics or any cat too obviously injured to be fighting. These cats are also called 'Grave Walkers' as they will usually prepare the passing rites of any cat who has fallen in battle, so their spirit can move on peacefully. Warriors who change their profession to medicine cat will usually become a Battle medic. (Idea made/inspired by battle medic!Breezepelt anon @lesbiandicegoblin)

Court Medic: Medicine cats (or assistants) who serve the cats in the nursery. Cats who are expecting or nursing kits will typically have one Royalty and one Court Medic looking after them and their children. These cats treat any of the nursery inhabitants, be it a parent, a kit or Royalty, and excel at the profession, often being as kind and nurturing as a parent themselves. Most cats who are Royalty are usually trained to also be a Court Medic, but may be referred to as either. If a court medic is also a warrior, they are only allowed to perform their Court Medic duties if they have finished their warrior duties for the day or if no other Court Medic is available.

Clan variants and unique subclasses by clan:

Thunderclan:

Brute: Cats who reveal in the art of battle, not as popular a profession as it once was. Slowly being reintroduced to Thunderclan but many cats tend to avoid it as they believed it to be cursed. The Thunderclan equivalent to Windclan's 'Strategist'.

Storm Chasers: A recently introduced job, these cats are trained in the tale tell signs of storms and are to warn their clanmates of potential flooding. Somewhat introduced by Stormfur of Riverclan during his brief stay in Thunderclan, hence the name, it was really only picked up after the first large flood after the battle with the Dark Forest. One of Thunderclan's first Storm Chasers was Briarlight, as she could feel the oncoming storms in her old injuries.

Windclan:

Strategist: Cats who excel in planning, whether it be battle, patrols or life in general. These cats are intelligent and quick thinking, often leading battle patrols from the back to bark out orders to the fighters. Common choices for deputies. The Windclan equivalent of Thunderclan's 'Brute'.

Tunnelers: An old Windclan profession brought back after the discovery of the tunnels underneath Windclan and Thunderclan territory. Mostly used for hunting and travel in harsh weather, Leaders and Mediators agree the tunnels couldn't be used for combat due unstable conditions and for most part that treaty has been upheld by Windclan. New tunnels are slow in the making due to having lost the profession for several seasons but cats are learning and discovering new ways to safely make more tunnels.

Shadowclan:

Moonlight Warrior/Night Stalkers: the Shadowclan equivalent to Skyclan's 'Daylight Warriors'. These are nearly nocturnal cats who serve their clan best at night, sometimes being rogues or kittypets who wish to be a part of the clan but not leave their housefolk behind. These cats have excellent night vision and simply feel all the more comfortable in the chill of night, often performing tasks that warriors or medicine cats couldn't accomplish during the day. Some of these cats will usually opt out of clan gatherings but it's not uncommon for those cats to guard camp while everyone else is away.

Spy/Ambusher: A Shadowclan subclass of scout, these cats are known for their stealth and trickery. They are the deadliest of Shadowclan's warriors and know how to keep a secret, there's no way of telling when a Shadowclan spy is telling the truth or not and thus they tend to be mistreated by cats both inside and outside their clan by sheer paranoia. Most are unbuffered but spies always confined in their leaders about what information and resources they've discovered.

Riverclan:

Bard/Poet: The Riverclan equivalent of Lorekeepers. Singers and songwriters, cats who can string together words that are as smooth as the lake at dawn. These cats are charming and love to spice up the history of the clans with a bit of song, most warriors of Riverclan are also bards or poets but the ones who excel at the profession are known across the clans.

Lake Watchers: Cats who keep an eye on the fish levels in the lake. These cats work alongside side warriors, hunting patrols and deputies to make sure the fish population in the lake never gets too low as to starve the clan. They also keep an eye on the Lake when it storms, they could be considered a Riverclan variation of Thunderclan's 'Storm Chasers'.

Skyclan:

Daylight Warrior/Dawn Walkers: The OG, the bringer of the Daylight Warriors. Typically a kittypet or rogue who wants to join the clan but not leave their housefolk behind. Also warriors who are more active during the day and less active at night. These warriors are unbuffered by the heat and blinding light of the day and are the most useful warriors during the hot summer months, and when they are the kittypet variety of this class they also have the advantage of another source of food as to not worry about any food storages.

Climbers: Cats who specialize in the climbing of trees and other vertical objects. These cats can leap great heights and distances with their powerful back legs, and it is the most common profession in skyclan. While most apprentices are taught the basics of climbing trees, these cats dedicate their lives to honing the craft. You can often spot these cats in trees keeping watch over the clan and their territory and hunting, they also use this method to ambush any intruders.

If you have a any question or are curious about any of them feel free to ask! I had fun coming up with these and I hope you all like them. They're free to use so if want to all you have to do is credit!

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skylanders-after-the-end · 3 years

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A new Nightmare begins

Kaos and Glumshanks were face to face with Kaossandra, who had inexplicably escaped her imprisonment from within the mirror.

“Mother!? How is this possible?” Kaos looked over to Glumshanks who could only shrug his shoulders as the slender woman approached the two. “You were supposed to stay in that mirror forever!”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you Kaos.” Kaossandra patted her much shorter son on the head while observing the main hall inside the family castle. “Unfortunately, even I do not know how this could happen. I was inside the mirror, dreading my fate as usual, when suddenly the glass broke and it crashed down. Then you arrived.”

Kaos turned around as his mother kept admiring all the objects and furniture which have been just out of her reach for such a long time. “So, you didn’t free yourself?”

“If I could, I would have done so years ago.” Kaossandra turned to one of the windows, allowing her to get a good view of the castle garden. “But this is something different. I can feel it.”

Glumshanks, who clutched onto Kaos’ shoulders, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman. “And what’s that, mistress Kaossandra?”

“My powers are weakened, despite not using them for such a long time.” Kaossandra was brooding. “Perhaps… no it cannot be.”

“What cannot be?” Kaos moved away from Glumshanks to better hear what his mother had to say.

“My powers stem from no other source than the Darkness itself, as do yours.” Hearing that, Kaos looked up to the symbol on his forehead which was briefly taken from him by said Darkness once. He knew what she was talking about. “But it’s more than just a power source, it’s a being. If it so desires, it can take our powers in an instant. The only reason it doesn’t is because it needs accomplices and hosts ever since it’s been banished by the Ancients.”

Kaos thought about that, but something didn’t add up. “That can’t be right! When I set the Darkness free and the Skylanders defeated it, my powers were still there! I mean it took a while to get them back, but still!”

“That’s because you can’t just defeat the Darkness, you fool!” Kaossandra hissed at her spawn. “The Skylanders have no idea what they’re up against. The Darkness is far more powerful than anything this world has to offer! They might have been able to destroy its physical form temporarily, but the true Darkness will always remain.”

“Then where is it now?” Kaos was curious but also nervous about what might happen if that dangerous threat was ever to return.

“I don’t know, I can’t connect with it like I used to. That’s anything but a good sign.” Kaossandra thoughtfully looked out the window, wondering why all of this was happening now. “It looks like the Darkness has other plans for the Skylands. One that doesn��t include us.”

Kaos gulped and Glumshanks began to tremble as they all gazed through the single window in front of Kaossandra.

One week has passed since Hex’ and Malefor’s ambush on the Academy. Even though the witch surrendered and destroyed Malefor before more harm was done, the Skylanders lost a beloved ally during the battle. Not to mention that Kaos managed to escape as well.

Spyro was lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t feel like getting up today. He hasn’t been feeling like getting up on any of the last few days in fact, but he had to. After a long sigh, the dragon pushed himself up, put his feet on the ground and left his room. He walked through the Academy where he was greeted by his many companions. The leader didn’t return more than a dry “Morning” and some nods. In front of the main entrance, Spyro stopped and looked to his left. He saw Cynder’s monument which was built after her unfortunate passing. In the center was a portrait of the Undead Skylander with black and purple flowers adorning it and some lit candles underneath. Even though it was there to honor and remember her, it always made Spyro feel like his heart was being pierced with a dagger.

“Hey.” Stealth Elf walked up to her friend as her sight went towards the shrine. She let out a heavy sigh. “I really wish that didn’t have to be there.”

At first Spyro had the obscure thought that the elf was suggesting that there shouldn’t be anything to honor their fallen friend, but he quickly realized that she actually meant there shouldn’t have to be anything to honor her in the first place. “Yeah, me too.” They looked at the memorial for a few more moments before continuing their path together. “What’s the plan for today?”

Stealth Elf pulled out a piece of paper which she used to write down all the assignments of the day. It was crumpled and the words were messily scribbled, but it was good enough for her to read it. “There have been reports about the Kaos situation. Some activity at his family castle, so it’s safe to assume that he’s returned there.”

Spyro nodded. “That’s good to hear, then we have to send a team.”

Stealth Elf continued. “Besides that, there were a few evil minions sighted that we should take care of. No Golden Queen though, it seems Sprocket really got the job done.”

“I sure hope so.” Even though the technician told them that she buried the queen beneath her palace, none of them knew that she survived. “Anything else?”

“One last thing…” Stealth Elf was hesitant about that point, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “Someone needs to check on the villains at Cloudcracker Prison. The Trap Masters have taken some time off after making sure they were all locked up again, but an inspection is overdue.”

Spyro remembered how most of the prisoners had to be released and kept inside the cafeteria in order to make room for the possessed Skylanders until that was resolved. “That won’t be a problem, I can go and check on them-”

“All of them.” Stealth Elf put emphasis on all. Spyro went silent and had an empty stare. He wanted to say something but just couldn’t. When he opened his mouth, the Life Skylander stopped him. “Nightfall already said she’d go. I know you can’t see her yet.”

Spyro closed his mouth again and nodded. “Thanks.” He didn’t look the elf in the eyes anymore and just kept walking straight ahead.

Northwest from the Academy only a few islands away was the infamous Cloudcracker Prison standing in its full crystalline glory. It was currently holding more villains than ever before, ranging from the sinister Doom Raiders to the smallest of greebles. Below the many floors and cells was one dark room hidden in the lower part of the building. It was a big, cave-like area with a dome-shaped forcefield in its center. Inside it was the now mortal Hex, leaning against the solid blue wall of energy.

After giving up all her powers and ending Malefor once and for all, the witch was transported to the prison and locked inside that highly secured room. The Skylanders didn’t want to take any risks since she got closer to defeating them than any other villain before.

During the seemingly endless silence, the only door leading inside the room opened and Nightfall entered. Hex tilted her head slightly to see the dreadwalker through her messy black hair before turning her sight to the floor again. Neither of them talked. Nightfall approached the forcefield and stared at Hex for a good while. “Do you need anything?” The Supercharger’s raspy voice echoed through the room.

“As if you care.” Hex responded dryly, not even bothering to give the Dark Skylander another look.

“You’re a mortal again, you have to drink and eat.” Nightfall didn’t say that out of sympathy, she made it clear that she was just following orders.

“I’m well aware of that.” Hex finally moved her head again before staring back at the ground. “And why did they send you? Do they think that I would talk to someone who’s just like me?”

“I’m nothing like you!” Nightfall hissed.

“You aren’t?” Hex asked with a hint of sarcasm. “You aren’t an outsider? You don’t distance yourself from everyone around you?” Hex remembered how Nightfall was one of the few Skylanders she communicated with from time to time, exactly because of their similarities. “I dare to say that you were closer to me than anyone else. Anyone but…”

“Enough of this, witch!” Nightfall interrupted Hex and had to fight the urge to storm off without fulfilling her duty. “What you did was more than enough to show me what kind of person you really are. And I think nothing of that kind!” Despite Nightfall’s aloof and sometimes antisocial behavior, she did have a strong sense of justice and knew right from wrong. “I sympathized with you before because I thought you were like me. Restrained and quiet, but also loyal. Now I know that you’re nothing but a hate-filled and wicked person!” Hex had nothing to say in response, perhaps because it was true. “I’ll send a meal your way, even though you’re not even deserving of that.”

The dreadwalker turned around and left without another word. Hex remained sitting on the floor, her knees bent and her arms on top of them. She didn’t know if she would ever see the blue skies or floating islands again, but what the witch did know is that she did what she considered to be right for her.

Meanwhile at the Academy hospital on top of one of the many beds was an impatient Wild Storm. A week has passed since he was taken out by a mysterious dart out of nowhere and Whirlwind demanded another checkup. The knight was tapping his armored fingers onto the steel bed frame, eager to finally get a result.

After another minute the hybrid entered the room. “So, Wild Storm.” The Air Skylander began whilst holding a wooden board with her paw. “There are still some traces of the venom which was injected into your body and nearly made you unconscious, however you endured it very well and don’t have anything to worry about anymore. I must say I’m impressed by how quickly and easily your body processed it.”

When the head of the hospital says something like that it must mean something. “Thank you, Whirlwind.” The Sensei turned to the ledge of the bed and stared at her with his glowing eyes inside his mask. “Do you know what exactly that was?”

“Well, it was a paralyzing toxin commonly found in nightshades and other nocturnal plants. I can’t tell you where it came from but maybe it would help to inspect whatever hit you.” Whirlwind didn’t find anything unusual on the knight when he was brought in, so she was curious about what happened. “Tidepool was the one to bring you here, maybe you should ask her.”

Wild Storm nodded before Whirlwind excused herself. He really should talk to Tidepool, not only about this but also everything else that’s been going on between the two. They haven’t properly spoken in months and when Wild Storm lost control Tidepool suddenly confessed that she loved him. Even though he was in his beast form and his memory was cloudy, that is the part he remembers most clearly.

Wild Storm soon left the hospital and went to look for Tidepool. He spotted Boom Bloom nearby and approached her to find out that the quickshot should be in her room. The Air Skylander followed the advice and entered the long hallway with several Skylanders’ rooms. Eventually, he reached Tidepool’s. Everyone had their own personal doorplate attached so they would know whose room it was. Tidepool’s was a gorgeous depiction of the ocean with sea creatures like squids and whales just like the ones that aid her in battle. He knocked on the door and after hearing a neutral “come in”, the knight slowly entered.

When Tidepool turned around and saw the familiar figure she froze in place. Wild Storm closed the door behind him before the two stood still and stared at each other. “Wild… what brings you here?” Tidepool already knew the answer, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Wild Storm began.

“I wanted to talk to you too, actually.” Tidepool responded with the same intention, which lead to another moment of tense silence. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It definitely has.” Wild Storm never wanted to cut his friend off like that, but he saw no other way to keep the beast inside him away from her. “I wanted to ask if you know what happened that day when I… lost control.”

“Oh…” Tidepool expected to hear such a question, but she wasn’t quite prepared. She was nervous. She didn’t know if he remembered anything. If he remembered what she said. “You want to know why you ended up in the hospital I assume?”

The knight nodded and sat onto a wooden chair in the corner of the room.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about as well.” The Water Skylander turned around to grab something. She held it in her hand and moved it closer to Wild Storm for him to see. “You got hit by this dart and almost became unconscious. I guess because you were in your beast form you took it pretty well, but anyone else would have been down for hours.”

“Whirlwind told me that, but it sounds like you know more about this.” Wild Storm observed Tidepool as her expression was getting more nervous and her eyes focused on the small missile. “Do you know where the dart came from?”

“I have an idea, yes.” Tidepool turned around again and took a deep breath as her back was facing the Air Skylander. “That’s why I have to go away for a while.”

Wild Storm was caught off guard. “What?”

The Water Sensei turned back around holding her two squid guns, only that they were missing the grips, so they were just regular squids. “I know this is sudden and I can’t tell you what it is, but there’s something I must do.” She looked down at her marine pets in her arms as they turned their heads to look back at her. “I also want to ask you for a favor.”

Wild Storm didn’t understand what was going on, but he wanted to help his friend, nonetheless. “What is it?”

Tidpeool took a step forward and moved her squids towards the knight. “Can you look after them while I’m gone? I can’t take them with me, it’s too dangerous. I would ask someone else but… you’re the one I trust the most.”

Wild Storm stared at the two squids and then at Tidepool again. He never really knew those animals as anything other than weapons, but after giving it some thought he took them into his arms, despite the slimy feeling. “Of course, I would love to.” He observed the squids while they were gently moving across his arms before looking back at his friend who had a saddened but also certain look on her face. “But Tidepool, where are you going?”

“I really wish I could tell you, but I can’t.” The Sensei was hoping that this wouldn’t upset the knight, but his willingness to care for the squids gave her confidence. “Any word about this mission could put you and every other Skylander in danger, I can’t do that to you. You have to trust me.”

Wild Storm was looking deep into Tidepool’s eyes, he can’t remember the last time that has happened. He knew her well, despite their recent hardship, and he knew that she could take care of herself. “I trust you.” Tidpeool’s mouth formed a smile and she pet her squids goodbye. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“Always.” Tidepool responded and her eyes met those of Wild Storm again. “I don’t know when I can come back, it might take months, even a year, but you can’t tell anyone about this. If someone asks just tell them that I’m on a longer journey and I will be back later, hopefully no one will notice.”

Wild Storm nodded and had to twist his hands to prevent the squids from falling down. “And what about these two? Is there anything I have to know?”

“Don’t worry, they can take care of themselves. I just want you to keep an eye on them, so they don’t get into trouble.” The Water Skylander gave her pets a stern look before they nodded to assure her that they’ll behave.

“If they’re as tough as their owner then I have nothing to worry about.” The Senseis smiled before another wave of awkward silence washed over them. Wild Storm thought if there was anything else he had to say. Ultimately, only one thing came to his mind. “I’ll miss you Tide.”

Tidepool looked at Wild Storm and felt her heart beating inside her chest. A part of her just wanted to hug him and confess her feelings all over again. Her love towards him hasn’t changed, even if he still didn’t know it. However, she had to hide it again because she knew that this was more important than that. “I’ll miss you too.”

After those words the friends hugged each other one last time before Tidepool stepped out of the room, threw Wild Storm one more look, and closed the door, not knowing when she would come back. The knight stayed in her room and sat on the bed with the squids clinging onto his arms. “Guess it’s just you and me now.” This was not what Wild Storm expected when he came here, but he could tell that whatever Tidepool had to do was important. He hoped that they could finally spend time together again so he could confess that he loved her too. But he would have to wait, just like Tidepool did.

The next day was an exciting one for the Skylanders. Eon’s niece Aurora was gone for several months on a mission to look for remaining portals connected to Earth, and she has finally returned. An entire crowd of Skylanders was eagerly waiting at the port until her airship arrived. When Aurora opened the door and stepped outside, she was greeted by loud cheering and clapping. With a smile the Sensei got off the ship and rejoined all her friends and allies. Even though she had many things to share, there was one person she wanted to talk to before anyone else.

Master Eon was sitting inside his office, busy with some overdue paperwork. Suddenly someone knocked on the door. “Enter.” The spirit answered bleakly, unaware of who just entered the room.

When Eon lifted his head, he was at a loss for words. Even though he was expecting his niece to come back home any day now, he was still shocked to finally see her again. “Hey uncle.”

“Aurora!” The relatives were about to go in for a hug, but then stopped themselves. “It’s… wonderful to see you again.” They awkwardly stood in front of each other since they were unable to hug due to Eon’s ghostly state.

“It’s good to see you too!” Aurora sighed while looking at the ghost of her uncle. It’s been years since the attack that destroyed his body and she missed hugging him and feeling some kind of physical contact to her last family member, but she was eternally grateful that he was still there in the first place. “There are so many things I have to tell you!”

“Then do tell!” Eon said with glee as he magically pulled out the chair in front of his desk for Aurora to sit on.

After the swashbuckler told Eon all about her journey and the portals she’s discovered, he was impressed to hear that there are in fact still some active portals which could potentially transport the Skylanders back to Earth. Of course, there was no need for that after the Skylanders were freed from their imprisonment on the foreign planet and managed to return to Skylands for good.

“It was amazing uncle, I have never even seen some of the places I went to!” Something not many Skylanders knew was that Aurora has spent many years lost in another realm. She only managed to escape alongside the other Light and Dark Skylanders after the destruction of Cloudcracker Prison which released them from their respective realms. “I only remember all those books and drawings that we used to have years ago, but I never thought I’d see those places for myself! And how much they’ve changed!” The Sensei was as excited as a child.

“I’m glad that you had the opportunity to visit them.” Eon was the happiest he’s been in a long time. He was desperately looking for his niece after her disappearance, many years of hopeless searching. When she then finally returned, he was already a spirit and felt like he could never have the same bond with her again, but they tried making the best of it. However, Eon’s smile faded into a frown as he had some bad news to share. “There’s something you need to know.”

Aurora was curious. “What is it?” Before Eon could answer, the Light Skylander guessed it herself. “Oh, you mean what happened with Hex? The entire Skylands have heard about it! I can’t believe she would do something like that-”

“There was something else.” Eon hated to interrupt his niece and tell her something even worse, but she had to know. “During Hex’ ambush when some Skylanders were corrupted, Kaos managed to escape.”

Aurora went silent. Her family had a long and complicated history with that of Kaos’ and his escape could only mean trouble. “Well, then we’ll just take him down like we always do. Right?”

“It’s not only him this time.” Now came the part Eon feared the most. In the last few days, he has felt unsettled, a familiar feeling. He tried to figure out what it was and used his powers to look for a connection until he finally knew. “Kaossandra is free as well.”

This time Aurora was not only quiet, but visibly shocked, almost afraid. “Ka- Kaossandra?” The Sensei’s mind was rushing as she recalled all the stories she had heard about the dark Portal Mistress. “But she’s been trapped in that mirror for years, how…”

“I don’t know, but I can sense that she broke out of it. Her aura has no equal.” Eon has a past with Kaossandra, but he preferred to not talk about it, even with his niece. “I’m not sure what her and Kaos are up to, but with everything that’s happened recently I have reason to believe that we need to brace ourselves for the worst.”

Aurora slowly nodded, still lost in thoughts. “I understand.” She slowly raised herself up from the chair and made her way to the door, completely absent-minded. “I will get back to training as soon as I can and… I will watch out.”

As she closed the door behind her, Aurora reached into the collar of her armor with Eon’s face engraved on it. She pulled out a necklace with a small golden key attached to it. She looked at it for a few moments and sighed before hiding it inside her armor again and walking along.

Eon remained in his office for the rest of the day and couldn’t help but worry. He thought about the past year and everything that’s happened. The betrayal of the reformed villains and Snap Shot, Malefor’s return, Hex’ curse. It almost made Eon doubt the trust he has in his loyal Skylanders. All those events reminded him so much of the past, where he was betrayed by Kaossandra as well.

The day came to an end and the Academy progressively shut down. After Aurora’s return and all the exciting news everyone was tired and ready for bed. Tuff Luck had just finished her patrol at Cloudcracker Prison and was heading to the Life Realm where she would enjoy the vast and untouched nature.

As the Life Trap Master was strolling through the Academy, she heard something nearby. There was no one else there besides two guards at the main entrance, but she was too far away to be hearing them. There it was again. The feline swiftly summoned her Traptanium warblades and listened carefully. She heard something behind her and turned around whilst swinging her blades, but she didn’t strike anything. Before she could move another inch, a cloaked figure appeared right in front of her. The Trap Master furiously looked into its face and what she saw terrified her. The figure wore a gruesome mask with glowing blue eyes which stared right into the Trap Master’s soul. Before she could attack the intruder, Tuff Luck’s jade green eyes were suddenly filled with a light blue fog. The Life Skylander stood there like a statue, she couldn’t move and her weapons fell to the ground. The figure in front of her calmly walked away and turned into thin air, disappearing from the Academy.

Tuff Luck found herself on a grassy field. The last thing she remembered was seeing that strange figure at the Academy, but now she was on this small, isolated island surrounded by a pitch-black sky. Even though there was no source of light to be found, she could see herself and the grass underneath her as clear as day. When she looked further a forest appeared right in front of her, but instead of the usual joy she experienced seeing a forest, she gasped in horror. The trees and plants were slowly decaying and falling apart, as if a plague was passing right through them. Tuff Luck was terrified as the decaying forest began to spread until she was surrounded by it. This was her biggest fear, for all the nature in Skylands to die off. The feline ran away but there was no end to the forest, she just kept on screaming and running in agony. While she was experiencing all that in her head, Tuff Luck’s body was standing still at the Academy, her foggy blue eyes staring into the distance. It was nothing but a shell, while Tuff Luck’s mind was hopelessly lost.

#skylanders #skylanders after the end #skylanders ate #ate #chapter 3 #kaos #kaossandra #spyro #hex #nightfall #aurora #eon #tuff luck #original story #fanfiction

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crushing-on-nico-di-angelo · 4 years

Text

Seven Nights in Cabin Thirteen

I’m inspired by another post I saw here that I didn’t wish to hijack lol, and OP deactivated or else I’d link their account here. credits to @the-ghost-king for the idea of a demigod therapy/Will being a past drug addict on this post. Yes this is a bad fic. It’s also my first fic ever. Please criticize if you see anything

Will never thought that he would ever appreciate his first monster attack. He was seven years old, and in hindsight his teacher probably only worked there to prey on young demigods (at least, that’s why he suspects the attack happened so early in his life compared to other demigods). But when Lee Fletcher sat him down 4 years later and told him that he was trans and would now be known as Lee instead of his birth name, Will knew that everything happened for a reason.

After many conversations with Lee about how he knew (gods bless that man’s patience) and with an older Athena camper who’s special interest dealt in psychology, Will realized the reason that he always felt disconnected from his mom and sisters in Austin was because he was like Lee. He was a boy.

Telling people wasn’t easy. Of course his older brother had to know; he was the one who introduced Will to this concept. Telling the rest of camp was as easy as telling Chiron, who told Dionysus, who always threatened to turn anyone into a dolphin if they talked shit about any trans kid. Telling his mom... that had to be the hardest part. How was he supposed to tell them? The only similarities they all had were that they were all musically inclined and that they were all girls.

Apparently, Will forgot that Naomi Solace was a musician. The music industry has more queers than an all girl’s school GSA. Her only questions were “Alright, what’s your name then, kiddo?” and “When do you want to set up an appointment with a therapist?” As for his siblings, well, let’s just say the oldest, Frankie, always knew. And it didn’t take long for seven-year-old Mickey to cut her doll-that-somehow-looked-exactly-like-Will’s hair and change his notes from high to low when she accompanied his singing on violin, as part of voice training.

Four years has passed since then and Will can hardly believe it. He’s stealth back at Austin because it’s just easier that way, but since a quarter of the camp knew him since he was seven, he figured there was no point; it isn’t like anyone treated him as though he wasn’t a man-- er, boy-- at camp anyways. So, life went on. He got his period for the first time during the Battle of Manhattan, that was no fun, but luckily Thalia was cool about it and made sure not to tell anyone. He started binding shortly afterwards, got a couple bruises hear and there. Kayla yelled at him for a week for that one, he remembers fondly. Discovered why it’s better to take off your contacts in the shower... that day isn’t such a fond memory. That was the first and last time he ever made himself bleed. Although, he will say that’s what sparked his interest in medicine and what made him the best doctor Camp Half Blood had seen in decades at the mere age of 15 years old. Life at camp was good, if a bit dull. He got used to the routine and the constant influx of damaged campers, the siblings and friends, and the always-perfect Texas Barbecue and Coke.

That is, until the War Between the Camps happened. Lou Ellen woke Will up before sundown that day and told him their plan. They were to hide in the tall grasses and wait for Camp Jupiter to show their ugly faces. Cecil had the genius idea to paint their faces and arms black so they’d blend into the night better, and Will supposes in the hubub of everything they forgot that his hair nearly (”nearly”) glows, even at night. Until Mr. Nico “I’m so smart, I nearly killed myself shadow travelling” di Angelo pointed it out. Whatever, it made sense at the time. They won the war against Gaea, not without sacrifice, and they finally, finally got past all the wars and destruction and health issues that they were able to just hang out and get to know each other as friends.

And boy, was their friendship amazing. Nico had the best taste in music from Will’s eyes, and that’s saying something because Will is a music snob. Nico could be a little stubborn at times, but that’s alright because so was Will (”Gods damn it, Nico, if you don’t take your medication right this second I will-” “You’ll what? Hm? You’ll force it down my throat? Last I checked that was abuse.”). They fit together so perfectly and became fast friends.

It wasn’t always sunshine and lollipops, though. What is, for a demigod? Will relapsed once and passed out right in front of Nico’s cabin. He was crashing from an exciting high that he hadn’t experienced in so long, and he felt so tired and ashamed of himself. Methamphetamine was a goddamned bitch, so while he was coming out of withdrawals, he made Nico promise not to let him leave the cabin for a week were simmering down. He had to make sure something like this never happened again. They Iris Messaged Chiron and explained the situation, and he understood. He made sure to contact the older son of Dionysus who had been Will’s therapist in the past and said what had happened and they agreed on a session for soon after Will got mostly over his cravings.

So now they had a week of downtime together. Awesome.

“Solace, do you need anything? Are you okay?” Nico asked towards the end of the first full day that withdrawals were over.

“I’m-- fuck. I’m fine. I swear.” He responded unconvincingly.

“That’s not what you said last night... no offense, but I’m not fully inclined to believe you when you look like shit.”

“It- It... it’s not something I’d like to talk about, if that’s alright. And... don’t tell Clarisse, please.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, don’t worry. But I would like to know if this is going to be a common occ--” Before he could even finish asking, Will was already shaking his head and responding.

“One-time thing only, I promise. Gods, I’m sorry I showed up here at all.”

“Woah, buddy. That’s not what I was saying at all. You’re my best friend, I’m glad you came here.” Will almost couldn’t believe what Nico was saying. Then again, did Nico have very many friends? Nico himself certainly didn’t seem to think so. “In any case, you don’t have to explain what happened, or what led up to this, or anything like that. I don't need to know. What I do need you to do, however, is take a shower. I’m sorry to say so, but you smell like ass.”

“Yeah well, I’m…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. How do you explain to someone that he still wanted his drugs, and he didn’t want to leave the cabin because he knew he would leave to go find some before he would even think about going to his own cabin at this point.

“You don’t have to leave,” Nico said, perhaps sensing his agitation. “I have a shower in the cabin.”

“What the fuck do you mean you have a shower in the cabin?” The shock of this knowledge get him out of his stuck mind. “How did you get plumbing in here? How did Chiron allow this?”

“I helped design my cabin, and while I may not have all the experience in architecture that Annabeth does, I do know a thing or two. I did meet with Isambard Kingdom Brunel, you know.”

“I did not know. You- Who is Isambard Kingdom Brunel?” Will asked

“Oh, some civil engineer who is like a million years old.” Will scoffed at that.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. He was never going to let go of the fact that Nico was technically like 80 years old.

“Oh hush, William.” William… never Will, like most people. William… like he was something special, something that deserved three syllables. “Anyways, like I was saying: take a shower. You look like you were up mowing all of camp with a flashlight.”

Knowing Will’s reaction to drugs, that wasn’t unlikely. He stood up. “Lead the way? I’ve never been around your cabin before.”

Nico’s cabin was unlike any others. Using some sort of Doctor Who-like technology, there was a living room, a kitchen, and one room. Surprisingly, the walls were all light or pastel, a stark contrast from Nico’s general (and unintentional) punk-rock appearance. However, the furniture was all a deep black. Nico led him to his room, a minimalistic one with a bed, a desk, and a lamp. Will wondered where all the personalization was, but made no comment.

“Here’s the shower,” Nico pointed to yet another room in this somehow huge cabin. “If you see something amiss or odd… ignore it.” Will didn’t want to think of the implications of that sentence.

He stepped in the shower and oh my gods, watching the dirt and grime wash off him after his 8 hour high-- which he did not want to think about (and not just because the author doesn’t want to taint his search history), it was too embarrassing-- was a wonderful feeling. He was still tired. He didn’t know why, it didn’t used to be this hard. However, he was pretty sure that he tried to clean the entire outside of the hypnos cabin before going over to the Hades cabin to do the same. This was the first and last time Will would ever thank the gods for Nico’s poor sleeping patterns, he had heard him outside and came to get him before he tired himself out more.

He nearly passed out in the shower again but managed to make it out. He looked around the well-stocked bathroom and realized something that he probably should have bothered to notice before: he didn’t have any clothes with him. Fuck. He wrapped a (black) towel around his chest because he didn’t think his body could take anymore binding and prayed to Dionysus that Nico didn’t notice that his chest wasn’t exactly male.

Luckily, the first thing Nico did say was “Is that a tattoo?”

Will looked down at his sun. “Yeah, it is,” he smiled. He remembered the night he did it, it was kind of hard. He ordered a tattoo gun off amazon and had Frankie do it for him shortly after the Battle of Manhattan. Some people might think it’s in honor of his dad, which is fine. It was really for Lee Fletcher, though. His mom totally freaked, for a really long time, but after his C-PTSD diagnoses she realized that whatever works for him works as long as it isn’t drugs or self harm. He knows she wants a future for him that doesn’t involve music, and that’s why she freaked. She thought it would ruin his chances. But it’s right on his shoulder, only visible in tank tops or no shirt.

"It… its to honor the man who taught me I could be myself." Will said after a small pause.

"That's a very lovely sentiment. If he made that much of an impact on you, he must be a very cool person."

"He was." Will knew that Nico heard the was by the way that Nico nodded solemnly. "I uh… I don't wish to be more of a bother, but do you mind if I go to bed now? That shower really helped."

"Yeah, of course. I can take the couch, you know where my bed is-"

"No, absolutely not." Nico sighed softly, as though he expected this. "I can sleep on the couch, in Austin I actually prefer it to my bed."

"That's-- no offense William, but that's weird."

"It feels less lonely to me," Will protested, then let out a huge yawn.

"Alright cowboy-" Will smiled at Nico's nickname for him "-get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Nighty night, Neeks. Love you." he didn't miss the small smile on Nico's face before he walked away. Will has always been very loose with his 'I love you's like that. He figured it's better to say it too much than not enough.

He had found his old stash the night before, the one that Clovis had helped him forget about. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about last nights events. At the time,he told himself that he shouldn't do anything with it, and put it out of his mind for about a week, but eventually his urge to smoke overcame his self-control. He went on a rampage of cleaning and was absolutely certain he looked like a madman. The worst part is, he didn't even know why he did it. It was as though his rehabilitation hadn't even happened, as though this was something that was as natural as getting a cup of coffee in the morning. He was so mad at himself, so embarrassed.

These thoughts occupied his mind until he fell asleep about an hour after his last words to Nico. He slept with no dreams, for the first time in about a month.

word count: 2,245

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rwbyvein · 3 years

Text

Firen Lhain: Chapter 706: The Great Beasts: Part II/III

Jaune lead the party. Blake was off to his right flank, Ren to his left. The rest of the group were together, behind.

* * *

Jaune felt something, and looked over to see Ren beside him. He followed his smiling gaze. Ren disappeared a moment later. Jaune slowed down as he stepped forward and saw the giant footprint. He stopped and looked behind him. Jaune's gaze fixed on Weiss. Weiss smiled but did not understand what he wanted until Ruby pushed her forward. "He needs your Weissiness." Ruby said. Weiss' first thought was to give Jaune an offended look, but she breathed in deep and told herself to accept it as a compliment. She straightened her hair and then her dress before stepping forward.

"Got to look your best." Yang chided, and Weiss glared at her.

"Would she really be Weiss?," Nora asked, "if she didn't look her best? It's like her Semblance or something."

Weiss stopped midstride as the thought deeply weighed upon her psyche.

"Weiss Queen?" Yang asked her. Weiss looked over to see Yang pushing her hands forward. Weiss turned back to walk towards Jaune. She found a way to sashay in the woods and made her way up to Jaune. He was looking at the footprint, and turned. Before Weiss knew what was going on, he picked her up, craddled her, and gave her a passionate kiss. When he put her down she could barely stand. She heard a click, and turned around to see Yang and Nora pointing their cameras.

"Must you?.." Weiss admonished. She tried to frown but found herself smiling. She crossed her hands in front of her and turned towards the footprint. She then looked back to Jaune. "Not that I'm objecting, but why?"

Jaune pointed at the footprint, "You're Professor Port's star student."

Weiss thought it over for a moment before it occurred to her. It hit her so powerfully that she nearly lost her footing. Thankfully Jaune wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. She heard significant movement behind her and turned to see the others rushing in. She stood up properly, bowed her head to Jaune, and turned to them, bowing. "I apologize."

"What's wrong?!" Ruby asked.

"What is wrong is that I am suddenly confronted with who I used to be." Weiss sadly stated.

"Huh?" Ruby asked.

Ren appeared in front of her, "Well that embarrassment, that desire to go back and tell yourself not to be so stupid, that just proves you're not the same person you used to be. You're smarter, you're kinder, you're stronger, and you're not done growing yet. None of us are."

"I swear I've heard that before." Jaune stated.

"Indeed." Ren said with a smile.

"From you." Jaune said accusingly.

"Indeed." Ren said with a brighter smile. "Some things need to be learned more than once."

Blake appeared beside them, "They say you learn things once for a day, twice for a week, and three times for the rest of your life."

"Which means," Ren continued, "after the third time there's going to be a test."

"What?!" Yang asked, "You can't do that, right? Can he?"

Ren turned to smile at her before turning back to the footprint.

"Ren is like really wise, so?," Nora asked, "mmaayybbee?"

"You can study for it later." Jaune dismissively uttered, waving his hand over his shoulder. "Snow Angel?" he asked, and she swooned. He turned towards her as she collected herself, "Do these look like the footprints of any large Grimm you know about?"

Weiss made to kneel down, but paused, and decided to adopt a less elegant squat instead. She lowered herself down and closely inspected the footprint. She then stood back up. "I can't make heads or tails of it. It has some passing similarities to a Boarbatusk, but I've never seen any of this size."

"So, giant armoured boar?" Yang asked.

"The feet are too pointed to be a boar." Jaune stated, "It honestly looks more like a giant deer."

"So, a deer Grimm?!" Nora asked.

Jaune then turned to the group, "Does anyone know about a deer Grimm?" he asked, but as he looked between everyone present, no one showed any recognition. "Alright," Jaune said, "we know how to fight Boarbatusks." Ilia looked confused. "Maybe Blake can talk to Ilia about it." He made to turn away, but paused halfway and turned back, looking Ilia in the eyes, "And remember, you're not a Huntsman. We want you to learn, not die. If you move in, only do so when you see an opening, and move back out again." He turned back to the tracks. He turned back to everyone. "Everyone get a good look."

"Even me?!" Nora asked.

"If you launch yourself," Jaune stated, "it might scare off what we're chasing."

"Which is what?" Yang asked.

"Something big with hooves." Jaune stated.

"Uh-huh." Yang sarcastically said, "Real helpful."

"Whatever it is," Ruby added, "we'll be able to defeat it! With the power of friendship!"

Weiss developed a sour look that sweetened with every moment until she found herself smiling.

"And punching." Yang stated.

"And punching!" Ruby exclaimed.

* * *

The party followed the hoofprints, up, and down, and around through the woods, until they saw movement. Large, black movement off in the black woods. Jaune turned back to everyone, "Keep your distance until we know what we're fighting."

"Or," Yang said, "we just wait for you to start the thing, since you want to be big daddy about this, and all."

"I concur." Ren stated.

"Even the big daddy part?" Yang asked.

"He is fatherly." Ren stated. "Though calling him daddy might be a bit much."

"Let's just spread out and keep quiet," Jaune said, "until we find out what we're up against."

"Yes, Daddy." Yang stated.

Weiss glared at Yang for a moment before looking at Jaune, "And, for those of us, who, perchance, are not so good at stealth?"

"Just hang back until you hear Dustfire or something." Jaune stated.

"Or Yang getting Yangry." Nora added.

"Duly noted." Weiss stated. Nora still looked eagerly forward. "You do realize you are one of them, do you not?"

"What?" Nora asked.

"She's right." Jaune stated.

"Yes, Daddy." Nora stated, and Jaune glared at her.

"I thought you were my minion?" Jaune asked.

"That would make you her master." Ren quipped, and Jaune looked shocked.

"Master?!" Nora eagerly exclaimed, and Jaune just sighed.

"We'll have to work on that, later."

* * *

Blake, Ren, and Ilia all creapt forward, keeping their profiles as low as possible. Jaune simply walked through the heavier brush. As they approached, they saw a ridiculous set of antlers, at least 12 points. They approached even more and it was a colossal black buck of some sort. Suddenly it turned towards them, and they all stopped in their tracks. Even more startlingly it had a black head. It didn't have the Grimm mask you would normally find, but it's eyes glowed blue-green in the dark of the forest.

"I know you are there!" it's great, deep voice bellowed, "Come and present yourself!" No one was sure of what to do, except Jaune, who walked forward out of the brush and up to the great beast. "You are at home in the woods. State you name."

"Jaune." he said, "Jaune Arc." Giggling could be barely heard from behind him, back in the woods. "And you are?"

"I am the Black Hart." the great beast bellowed, "King of the woods."

"We?," Jaune asked, and paused for a moment, "heard howling?"

"Why would it be strange?," the Black Hart asked, "for a king to be given tribute?"

"The howl?" Jaune asked.

"All give what they can." the Black Hart stated, "The wolf his howl, the bird his song, the tree her fruit."

"What... are you?" Jaune asked.

"I could ask you the same question." the Black Hart stated, "You are half man, half beast. I decided to simply watch you in my dominion, and what you did was come to me."

"We are called Faunus." Jaune stated.

"Who created you?" the Black Hart asked.

"We don't know." Jaune replied.

"How could you not know your own creators?!" the Black Hart asked.

"If I might ask?," Ren asked as he approached, "but who created you?"

"The Brother of Light, of course." the Black Hart stated, "Before his brother created the Grimm, and before our father lost interest in us to create Humans. But you are not Human, nor are you beast. I do not know what to make of you."

"While not exactly Human..." Jaune stated.

"We do not think of ourselves as all that different." Ren finished for him.

"If you were Human I would banish you from my woods." the Black Hart stated. "They carry the same power of destruction as the Creatures of Grimm."

"We were worried you might be Grimm." Jaune stated.

"And now that you know we are not?" the Black Hart asked.

"We assure you," Ren stated, "that we mean no harm to you or your wood."

"We ask to be allowed safe passage," Jaune stated, "the right of hunting and forage, and the right to sustainable forestry."

"YOU WISH TO CUT DOWN MY WOODS?!"

"Trees, yes," Jaune stated, "but not your woods."

"And what, dear halfling, is that?" the Black Hart asked.

"To take a section of the woods, cut down the trees, and let it regrow."

"The woods are always replenishing..." the Black Hart stated. "In light of your nature as beasts, I will give you the chance to prove your case. But, if I find my woods diminishing, your rights as beasts will be suspended. But, as beasts, you must also pay me tribute."

"I am afraid we have not much to give to one such as you." Ren stated.

"We are Huntsmen." Jaune said to him, and then turned to the Black Hart, "You can call us, and we will hunt Grimm in your woods."

"The Grimm rarely approach," the Black Hart grumbled, "but when they do, I will call."

"We ask that you grant us lordship over the woods," Ren stated, and the Black Hart glared at him, "In doing so, we could keep other people away."

"And what form would this take?" the Black Hart ask.

"Well," Jaune said, "for it to work with the Human kingdoms, it would have to be a Letters-Patent."

The Black Hart thought for a moment and then stamped his hoof. A letter appeared in Jaune's hand. It had cursive black ink with golden filligree.

"I, Black Hart, King of the Woods, hereby grant Title-Patent of Earl to Jaune Arc. He is to be granted sole right to the woods known as the Woods of the Beast, along with the Tower that so overlooks, though this right can be revoked at my displeasure." Jaune finished reading the letter and looked up solemnly. He then glared at Ren who simply smiled in reply.

* * *

Jaune and Ren walked back to Ruby, Weiss, Yang, and Nora.

"So?!" Nora asked.

"He made me an Earl." Jaune non-commitally said.

"Wait, what?" Yang asked.

"My thoughts, precisely." Weiss quipped.

"We should talk about it at home." Jaune said, and then looked at Ruby and Weiss, "Could you two head back to the glade and call Taj?"

"Why us?" Ruby asked.

"Perhaps our alacrity." Weiss stated.

"Okay, well, then why not Nora?" Ruby asked.

"Because I have some hope in restraining you." Weiss added.

"How?" Ruby curiously asked.

"But offering you a kiss."

"Okay, yeah, that would probably work." Ruby said. "When was that?" Ruby asked.

"When we arrived." Weiss replied.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

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fencesandfrogs · 4 years

Text

names. leaders. meaning.

i’m working on a master post with a list of my influences but i’m impatient and i have my own ideas. warrior cats lore post. bracketed numbers are things that broke flow but i wanted to include. under the cut.

THUNDERCLAN leaders are addressed by their name. there is no honorific, just bluestar or firestar or pinestar. the names of a leader become hallowed names. no kit will be named bluekit for many seasons after her death, until those who knew her have passed, and her name is just another in the list of leaders kits are taught. their names, kits are told, are powerful. just as kits can be summoned by their name, so can a leader. firestar’s compassion and fairness will be with us as long as we remrember his name.

a kit’s name is its mother’s choice, although a generous queen might allow a tom some input. kits are named for what they look like and what their mother wants them to be. dovekit for a grey kit who deserves peace. ivykit for a grey kit who deserves to put down roots.

after the great journey, these peaceful names have been more common. everyone wants to stay, be stable and calm. it won’t be until all those who made the journey have passed for it to even be possible for the old fighting to start again. maybe then, more grey kits will be named stormkit for power.

and their warrior name is always for them. recent leaders may have made unique choices, but perhaps older leaders were too conservative. bluefur and snowfur, from the same litter no less, is a tad unoriginal. but a kit is named for who their mother wants them to be, and a warrior is named for who they are. names describe who we are. [1]

SHADOWCLAN leaders are addressed by their name at times, especially during the day, but during hallowed and holy times, they are addressed by star seer. never in front of other clans. this is a powerful name. kits are taught this from birth. the stars are their ancestors, and the leader has been blessed by nine. it is only fair to show reverence for that. but the other clans do not understand this. they would only dishonor the tradition.

a kit’s name is chosen by all the queens in the nursery, and sometimes the elder queens. the mother has final say, but she is only first among equals. it takes many heads to remember as many warriors who have borne a name as possible.

when tawnypelt insisted on tigerkit, they decided it was a dangerous name. that’s why they had dawnkit and flamekit. because firestar was the downfall of tigerstar, and the dawn is a peaceful time. tigerkit would turn the power of his father for good.

their warrior names are, similarly, a more open discussion. leaders discuss it with mentors and senior warriors and medicine cats. hints are often dropped to the apprentices. their names must complete what the queens started. tigerheart so that he would remember it was the strength of his heart. puddleshine so that he would be able to find the light of starclan. names shape those they are given to.

RIVERCLAN leaders have a litany of names. weather caller, storm seer, spirit walker. a new leader being made is a chance to find another for the list. these names are to honor leaders for the role they play in their lives. the names themselves, mistystar, crookedstar, leopardstar, they are not held with the same reverence as in thunderclan and shadowclan. a leader leaves behind their claim to that name, becoming known by that only by their friends from before.

a kit’s name is chosen by the queen and her mate, regardless of the father. [2] they are chosen to honor the kit and the name. silverkit, out of love for trinkets, hoping their daughter would feel loved. graykit, hoping for a peaceful life, like still water. featherkit for a half-thunderclan kit, that they would not forget their blood, even though they would be raised riverclan.

stormkit was a debated choice. graystripe was not silverstream’s mate. he had little say over their names, but in lieu of either silverstream or her mate, stormkit would have to stick. it would come to honor spirit and power, courage to stand on your own. stormkit would have a new meaning, a new honor, after that.

their warrior name is chosen to honor their environment, to honor them. silverstream, for a daughter who had grown beautiful and loved. feathertail for a riverclan cat who knew where she belonged. crookedjaw for a warrior who had grown into the hardship he had dealt. the bearer of a name changes its meaning.

WINDCLAN has no name for their leader but their name. tallstar. heatherstar. harestar. but their medicine cats are honored. kestrelflight might become spirit seer in honor of a bird’s vision, and barkface could become moor healer, a tribute to the gift of herbs of the moor. no one decides on these names, but the clan agrees. it is not a name gifted in haste. only one medicine cat can ever have another name at a time, but to receive it is honor.

kits are named for prey and plants. harekit for a kit who looked fast and wry, crowkit for a kit with the old power of tunnelers. heatherkit for a kit with a pelt apt for stealth, and barkkit for a kit who looked out of place on the moor. the queen suggests, but the medicine cat confirms. without a blessing from starclan, no name could be a good omen. [3]

barkface didn’t like breezekit, he said it was a poor chosen name. said the kit was too solid for a name like breezekit, that rabbitkit or gorsekit was better. nightcloud asked if he was forbidding the name. barkface said he would not deny a queen to choose the name of her only kit. but breezekit would only bear ill wind.

warrior names are chosen for accuracy. breezepelt for a cat with a thin pelt. heathertail for a skilled hare runner. a leader seeks approval from a medicine cat, that they will bring no misfortune for their chosen name. _crowfeather _was a shocking interruption to begin with, but made worse that barkface could not ensure it was not ill-fated. names describe our future.

SKYCLAN has no honorific for its leader nor its medicine cat. to treat them differently would be to devalue their role. they are part of the clan as any other, and that is why they can lead it. so the names of a leader are not hallowed, but fought over once they have passed. the first kit to be named leafkit will be of the first litter born after leafstar loses her last life. [4]

a kit’s name is chosen with careful consideration. they may go unnamed for up to a moon as the queen searches for a good name. a cat who passes away while a litter is unnamed is almost sure to find themselves reborn in a name. firekit, stormkit, harrykit. all named for who was, but isn’t anymore.

firekit and stormkit may seem like they started this tradition, but it was harrykit far more than the other two. skyclan proved they would form their own clan, make the rules work for them, and that meant names like harrykit. it was honoring not just who was but also who they were.

so far, warrior names have been chosen exclusively by leafstar, and no one has complaints. the other clans might protest, but their names are a mark of what skyclan is, now that they live with the others. a warrior’s name is an honor, either in memory of another, or to bring honor to the name being given. violetshine that both names might enter the skyclan canon, frecklewish for a granted wish, _billystorm _for the she-cat that helped shape their clan. names honor those who came before.

PERHAPS THEN it’s not strange for bramblestar’s names to be unique. he has lead his clan during a strange time. and if riverclan’s names grow similar, that is because they know what they love. names have meaning. they always do. [5]

[1]: this is my explanation for the elder’s names in series one. i’ve also seen some lostface commentary i like.

[2]: cats can have multiple fathers in one litter. not going into it. this has nothing to do with adoption stuff. i mean it could, but i’m specifically saying it doesn’t.

[3]: other clans do get medicine cat approval, but it’s a formality, a wives’ tale.

[4]: modern skyclan, as per usual. old skyclan used -sky as a sort of friendly greeting? a personal, in thing? skyclan’s territory was furthest from high stones, so they probably weren’t super spiritual. leafsky. cloudsky. and so on. not in front of other clans, though, who would interpret it as extremely disrespectful, both to the leader and to starclan.

[5]: to be clear, i did this not to justify naming choices, but because i thought it worth my time to spend an hour (holy shit i can’t believe i’ve done this for an hour) writing lore about various names. i try to ground these things in canon, but this is for wing & feather (i.e., jaywing and dovefeather world building), so i don’t mind changing things. i don’t want to change names if i can help it, though. that said, when people say the old names were good: come on, man, i love bluestar’s prophecy, but really? bluefur and snowfur? i guess that means i have to say thunderclan is literal in their names.

#q #mine #txt #1st #March #2021 #March 1st 2021 #long #essay #warrior cats #jaywing #dovefeather #cloudtail's daughter

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bang-to-the-tan · 5 years

Text

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

“Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…” your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes. It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

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#moth to flame #bts x reader #bts smut #bts vampire au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #do you see now #do you understand #why it took me so long #none of this was originally in it ok #(hey anon i hope this soothes our relationship. <3 u #sorry again)#FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one #i dont know WHO i was CHANNELING #hand to god it only gets worse i just kEEP GETTING W O R S E #am i retconning hoseok being an asshole #eeeeeeyup lmao do what i wanna shrug #oh oh did you get my reference #w the other vampires #eeyyyyyy im not gonna put them in the tags cos its such a small bit part but eeeeeYYY #i dont actually listen to anyone but BTS im sorry i just wanted smone else to exist in this world that WASNT them ok #ive heard some of their stuff just havnt like #idk i dont follow anyone #i was incredibly into super junior when i started listening to kpop but thats cos i used it to write other smut :)#cos i couldn't understand korean #hey how you doing this is a lot of tags huh #well its been a long day alright #its been a day #ive been writing this chapter for so long i just wanna write my FEELINGS now

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silyabeeodess · 4 years

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FusionFall Headcanons: Individual Fusions

Since the fusions’ personalities tend to mimic that of their OG counterparts and following the idea that they’re also greatly under Fuse’s control, I don’t know if I’ll have enough to talk about if I were to address each of them separately in their own posts. Therefore, I’m going to bite the bullet and try to go through headcanons on every fusion below the cut. This list may be subject to change if I decide later to include characters that I haven’t discussed much before due to which versions of the game they were added into. Wish me luck...

Ace: Fusion Ace isn’t overly dangerous, so you’ll find him just doing a step up above the small time crime the real Ace used to do, namely the mass destruction of property. Since he actually makes a really convincing double of OG Ace though, he blends in well among Earthlings extremely easily so long as no one traces his fusion matter makeup. He’ll occasionally work with Fusion Father to gather information or run other stealth missions.

Albedo: Albedo’s fusion seems to share his narcissism. Ironically though, without even caring about how much he looks like Ben... he looks more like him than the real Albedo does. He’ll only take advantage of this when given the order to do so. He and Fusion Ben sometimes work together to trick Fusion Fighters by double-teaming on their opponents in combat situations or convincing soldiers that only one of them was assigned to an operation so the other can work freely in secret. He thinks his OG counterpart is a coward and has no respect for him or any other being that isn’t one of his allies.

Ben (and his aliens): Fusion Ben’s “Omnitrix” is honestly more for looks than anything, but that doesn’t mean that every single one of his alien transformations pack any less of a punch. He can often overwhelm his opponents by rapidly shapeshifting, and unfortunately looks close enough like the real Ben to trick Fusion Fighters into doing his bidding or fighting amongst themselves. Unlike OG Ben though, he shows little interest in being an actual leader, instead doing what he can to raise himself up and pinning any faults of his on those under his command. Alien versions split from this fusion share a similar mindset, but are often a lot weaker than Fusion Ben himself.

Billy: OG Billy might not be the brightest, but his fusion is downright savage. Unusually keeping crouched low to the ground, he tends to move on all fours in a simian fashion. He seems closer to the typical fusion monster than actual fusion, with just enough sentience to speak--occasionally--and lead a small pack of monsters at a time. Whether he’s naturally like this or it’s because Fuse is exuding too much of his own will over the fusion is unknown. Nevertheless, that savagery makes his a fierce threat in combat. He also seems to be attached to Dizzy World, likely due to a positive memory tied to the location passed onto him from the real Billy.

Bloo: Fusion Bloo is somehow even more selfish than the real Bloo can act... Outside of his fear and loyalty to Fuse, once his work is done, he does whatever he pleases that he knows he won’t get into trouble for. Strangely enough, he seems to be one of the few fusions who takes an interest in things like eating despite the fact that he has no need to, as he took OG Bloo’s juicebox in “Leaderbored.” His imaginary energy, meanwhile, gives him a jealous streak against OG Bloo: He wants the attention and companionship the other has, even if he doesn’t really understand the latter or why he wants either. Those feelings have boiled down to him wanting to destroy the real Bloo, but a reluctance to honestly fight those Earthlings he sees as “friends.”

Blossom: Unlike the real Blossom and Princess, their fusions actually get along because they’re both selfish and manipulative. The one point where they butt heads is that, because of these same reasons, they rival each other for Fuse’s praise. As of now, because of her powers, Fusion Blossom’s taken the lead. She’s far more cruel than her counterpart, not hesitating to use violence to assert her position as leader of the fusion PPG.

Bubbles: If the real Bubbles is sugar, Fusion Bubbles is poison. She’s the kind of being who would only admire a butterfly if she’s tearing its wings off or an ant under a microscope as she attempts to set it on fire. She fights regularly with her fusion sisters for dominance, but gets along well with the fusion Kankers since she can lord over them easily and shares their overly sadistic streak.

Buttercup: Next to Samurai Jack’s fusion, Fusion Buttercup was one of the first ones made. While too reactionary and quick-tempered to lead, she’s had a long while to get used to how Fuse leads and what he wants, making her one of his favorites. As such, she’s more hesitant when it comes to fighting than OG Buttercup if she thinks that something might please/benefit Fuse if kept intact/alive instead. This includes vital enemies wanted for their information or skill like Dexter.

Cheese: Feelings toward this fusion are... conflicting, to say the least... OG Cheese has caused so much trouble for the Fusion Fighters that a lot of soldiers see a fusion of him as a means of forcing Fuse himself to suffer what they’ve had to deal with--potentially ruining his plans as their Cheese has for them. Sometimes, this happens: Sometimes, it doesn’t. It’s still better to take him down when possible. Fuse hates this fusion, but has also discovered that it wields a surprising amount of power. In the mission “Assorted Cheeses,” this fusion showed that it could split apart into smaller monsters and reform itself similar to Echo Echo’s fusion. How it has this ability remains a mystery, but it’s nonetheless useful to the tyrant.

Coco: Unfortunately for Fuse, making this fusion did next to nothing to help him learn more about or capture the real Coco. Even worse for him, Fusion Coco has a habit of helping his enemies instead. Since she does this through her eggs, he can’t tell them apart from the ones OG Coco drops everywhere. Often, the Fusion Fighters can’t either, so her secret is safe. Her mind is greatly unstable, her desire to do good coming in bursts caused by whatever may trigger them in the moment. Usually, this is if she sees someone in need/danger similarly to how the real Coco’s creator had been--which she subconsciously remembers. The rest of the time, she’s extremely aggressive to her enemies and Fuse makes sure to keep her on a short leash.

Coop: Fusion Coop was created in hopes of him finding a way to finally take over Megas. However, while that’s a work in-progress, his inventiveness has equally been proven useful to Fuse’s forces. He’s a bit of a sloth if he’s not interested in the assignment, but a good threat will jar him back in line. He often serves under the other scientist Fusions like Dexter’s, Mandark’s, and Utonium’s rather than work completely independently. He’s also good at breaking and entering.

Courage: Fusion Courage is probably the most unlike his OG Counterpart; bigger, badder, and always willing to put up a fight. The main thing they share is their skill with computers. According to “Critical Mission (Part 2 of 2),” Fuse put him in charge of one of his main communication hubs as a guard for the Fusion Uplink device. His bite is far worse than his bark, bringing with it an intense fusion matter infection.

Dee Dee: Fusion Dee Dee doesn’t have much to offer Fuse beyond her original purpose, but that purpose is extremely important to him when it comes to the war effort. As of now, she’s still the most useful to him in finding a way to best Dexter and Mandark, since they’re responsible for creating nanos and a good chunk of the weaponry used against him. However, she hasn’t been very successful so far, failing to manipulate Mandark or break into Dexter’s old lab due to the player’s actions. Her greatest strength is her agility, which allows her to slip in and out of trouble when it arrives. If she ever succeeds in serving her purpose, Fuse will likely get rid of her. The more aware part of her self is slow to act the more this becomes clear until his will takes over yet again, and she wants to prove that she can be useful to him in other ways.

Demongo: The power to rob and enslave souls isn’t anything that Fuse would snuff at. With that ability, not only can he copy the strengths of the planet’s strongest fighters through the creation of fusions, he can actually force those fighters to submit to his own will! This, combined with Fusion Demongo possessing both a knack for strategy and love for destruction, made the being an instant favorite of the intergalactic tyrant’s. As such, he’s allowed more freewill than most others, assigned fusions to support him, and regularly given tools or victims to keep increasing his power such as the initial theft of the souls OG Demongo had stolen for himself and the quest to claim the ancient beast deep in the Fissure in Townsville Park. If it weren’t for the Resurrect ‘Ems protecting Fusion Fighters from him as much as their own lives, he’d have an even more insane advantage than usual. Fuse may usually keep him close to his Lair to prepare for his arrival since the demonic creature is such a force to be dealt with, but there’s nothing this fusion would like more than to hunt down every strong foe he can find and prime them for capture.

Dexter (and Computress): Fusion Dexter is a mad scientist with all the self-control needed to make him one of the most terrifying fusions in Fuse’s army. He’s just as skilled as Dexter, but with none of the morality to stop him from taking his scientific endeavors to horrifying extremes. While Fusion Utonium is the one that focuses the most on biotech, that doesn’t stop Fusion Dexter from running experiments of his own on live captives. Furthermore, he’s ruthless toward any subject that fails to meet his desired results, willing to throw them away at a snap of his fingers whether they’re an enemy or ally. Just good enough is not good enough for him, and he constantly seeks to improve whatever he makes for his own satisfaction as much as to please Fuse. He feels he has a kind of secret rivalry with the real Dexter, that helping win the war also will establish himself as more than just a copy of someone else, but rather the improved version. Like OG Dexter, he made his Computress, but he sees her as a replaceable assistant. She, meanwhile, is rather emotionless compared to the real Computress since she wasn’t designed to be a free-thinking AI.

Ed: According to Royal Ed-viser, Fusion Ed is responsible for studying dinosaur DNA to aid in the creation of fusion monsters. This shows a level of intelligence that the real Ed doesn’t, likely run by OG Ed’s passion. He’s possibly been forced to pool all of his focus into a sole purpose to give him that intellect and neglected a lot of the freewill other fusions have. Nevertheless, his intense strength is equally as useful to Fuse for combat.

Edd: Fusion Edd mostly serves under Fusion Dexter or Fusion Mandark, depending on wherever he’s needed at the time. Sometimes, it’s to assist them in their work; Other times, he serves as an independent saboteur. Unlike the real Double D, he has no trouble getting his hands dirty, but does share that see-a-need-fill-a-need mindset--just for Fuse’s purposes instead of any good. As a result, Fuse is often fine leaving him to his own devices when he has no particular orders. He’s an extremely reliable fusion.

Eddy: Fusion Eddy shares OG Eddy’s arrogance, which often puts him at odds with other fusions until they or Fuse remind him of his place. He’s extremely conniving, and holds a ruthless command over the fusion monsters under him, but isn’t very strong himself and will turn tail the moment a situation falls out of his favor. This makes him just useful enough for Fuse to keep him around, but little more. He’d do almost anything to rise up the ranks and become one of the tyrant’s favorites.

Eduardo: Out of all the imaginary friend fusions, Eduardo’s is the one that’s been able to stay himself the most without Fuse finding out about how much freer he is from the hivemind than the others. This is because he’s too scared to refuse Fuse’s orders as much as he often wants to. As such, he helps the Fusion Fighters in secret when the urge becomes too great by leaving clues like in the “Fusion by the Sea” mission arc or slipping up on purpose. He might get punished by Fuse or even destroyed by a Fusion Fighter, but so long as that secret is kept Fuse will keep recreating him due to his raw strength. He doesn’t know why he cares about Earth so much and tries to talk himself out of it, but he can’t help himself.

Father: Fusion Father is equally as deceptive and powerful as his counterpart. His primarily dark form similar to the real Father’s allows him to sneak around on Earth better than most other Fusions--the main difference being that his flames are green instead of red/orange and he doesn’t have as good a control over his skinsuit. He’s even managed to go so far as to establish himself among Earth’s small time crime rings to gain some monetary value and understand more about how the planet works and what the Fusion Fighters are doing. This level of stealth and manipulation makes him a scary threat to deal with.

Flapjack: Being a simple kid with the goal of becoming an adventurer, OG Flapjack didn’t have many great strengths of his own that would be passed onto a fusion of himself. As such, Fuse never put much thought into Fusion Flapjack. He’s weak, but harmless to his own goals. As such, this fusion tends to carry out more menial tasks or is used as a distraction while more powerful fusions aim for their true objectives on missions. When left to his own devices, Fusion Flapjack is more interested in causing mischief wherever he can with a mean streak that his OG counterpart would be ashamed of.

Frankie: Similar to Fusion Mac, Fusion Frankie was created as a means of tricking and luring away imaginary friends. After her defeat in “The Fraudulent Frankie” mission arc though, failing to overrun Foster’s Home and with the imaginary friends now aware and warned about her, she’s been severely demoted. The only reason Fuse bothered to recreate her was because she can direct the Scribble Spawns and Extremospawns best: Another severe failure would likely end in her permanent destruction if she doesn’t prove her worth.

Fuzzy Lumpkins: Fusion Fuzzy doesn’t show much sentience beyond his ability to wield a gun, and is often just used as a distraction or to attack civilian areas without restraint. He’s only marginally brighter than the typical fusion monster, but often much stronger.

Grandpa Max: Fusion Max is surprisingly just as spry and smart as the real one--and unfortunately doesn’t have to worry about any years wearing him down! This makes him a clever fighter that knows how to take down a soldier with or without a weapon. Sadly though, he doesn’t share Max’s patience with anyone who stands against him.

Grim: This fusion’s scythe might not be able to send you to the afterlife, but it can infect you with a strong dose of fusion matter if he lands a successful cut. Effectively, this poisons the body to wear down an opponent, and can potentially take their life if he’s unable to strike them down first. Possibly due in-part to OG Grim’s long life and wealth of memories, Fusion Grim actually recalls quite a bit of knowledge regarding Earth and its history--which has served Fuse well in the search of useful tools or resources for the war effort. He’s also taken advantage of the suspicion of OG Grim being a traitor by tricking others and acting in a way to cement those worries.

Gunter: This fusion’s form was... unexpected, in a good way--for Fuse at least. While never having met Gunter’s past self as Orgalorg, Fuse knows enough about the being to want to untap its power for himself. Unfortunately for him, Orgalorg’s penguin body on Earth has extended to his fusion, as well as OG Gunter’s memory loss from “The Comet” making it nearly impossible for his fusion to also regain memories of that time or summon much of that nature. Only Fuse’s own evil allows a small fraction of “Fusion Orgalorg” to come out. In the very least, Fusion Gunter is steadfastly loyal to both him and Fusion Ice King.

Gwen: Fusion Gwen is a bit of a late creation, made in response to the activation of totems across the globe. Even with her defeat, however, she’s still skilled enough to be useful to Fuse as both a fighter and in the search/destruction of magical artifacts. Since she couldn’t stop the totems from activating, her job is to get now try to get rid of them. She works under Fusion Hex.

Hex: As much of what’s unknown about the realms of magic and the Underworlders to most of Earth, Fuse has no idea what they’re capable of or how much of a threat they may pose to him. His goal is to either take or destroy those forces as a result. Fusion Hex recalls enough of his OG self’s memories to track down various ancient relics, and he’ll often work with Fusion Grim or Fusion Juniper to achieve their lord’s goals. He devotes himself to researching spells and at least trying to match his counterpart is magical prowess, since he doesn’t have all of his memories. If he could, he would kill and steal from the real Hex.

Him: This fusion’s strengths are as mysterious--if possibly a bit weaker than--his OG counterpart. While his dark, magical abilities seem limitless, his state as a fusion force them to focus that power moreso on what he’s physically capable of rather than just summon whatever he wants or use mind control/empathic influence like the real Him can. That doesn’t stop him from playing mind games with his opponents as he beats them to a pulp though. Based on the mission “Doppleganger Gang,” he’s been ordered to capture heroes for Fuse--likely with the intention of feeding their souls to Fusion Demongo as the latter has already taken so many.

Hoss Delgado: Fusion Delgado seems to be regulated primarily to being muscle and one of the main defenders of the massive Dark Engine located in Steam Alley. He talks less than his OG counterpart, but has the same type of cybernetic modifications to his body and knowledge of combat/weaponry. He can best be described as a fusion matter version of a Terminator.

Ice King: Fusion Ice King is even more mentally unstable than OG Ice King, with no sign or even hope of him instead mimicking the trapped consciousness of Simon. While removing his crown seems to dilute some of his power, it doesn’t seem to be the main source of it, but rather a means of keeping strongly connected to Fuse’s hivemind in a kind of dual consciousness. Overall, his only goal is cold, crazed, and poisonous destruction. However, aspects of OG Ice King’s personality surface best in his relationship to Fusion Gunter and interest in... well, Earth’s females. It’s not out of any sense of “love/affection,” warped or otherwise, and he doesn’t care about whether they’re a princess or not: It’s just a thing he remembers from the real Ice King. As such, he’s more likely to capture rather than kill girls until he loses interest because he doesn’t even really understand why he wanted to capture them in the first place unless Fuse or another fusion gives him a reason. It’s all about a moment’s satisfaction that quickly burns out to him.

Juniper Lee: If the real Juniper Lee is a protector of magic/magical beings, her fusion is a destroyer of them: Effectively, an anti-Te-Xuan-Ze. As such, Fusion Juniper’s job is primarily to destroy all sources of magical power and ruin relations between magic creatures and the rest of Earth’s lifeforms by posing as OG Juniper. What she doesn’t attempt to destroy, she tries to take for herself to boost her own power. She’ll sometimes work with Fusion Hex.

Kevin: Just as how fusion matter allowed the real Kevin to be corrupted, it makes fusions of him too unstable to be of any use without turning into a regular monster or opposing force from absorbing combative energies/materials to its makeup. As a result, you get the monstrosities fashioned similarly to his 11 year-old self when he was still struggling with his powers. This fusion is a huge brute with an insane temper, but is always two seconds away from destabilizing if tricked into absorbing the wrong things.

Lee, Marie and May Kanker: Even as fusions these three as inseparable. Since they’re far weaker apart without any notable powers beyond enhanced strength, Fuse has kept them together during all of their tasks. The OG Kankers may be bullies, but this trio has a sadistic streak that’s hard to match. They will always play with and torment their enemies before ending them.

Mac: Due to OG Mac’s close ties to imaginary friends, his fusion was made in the hopes of tricking and luring them to capture--particularly Coco. He’s not the strongest, but can turn wild if sent into a rage similar to how the real Mac gets after eating too much candy. Unfortunately, Fusion Mac was created using one of OG Mac’s backpacks, and after the player takes it in the mission “Pack Attack,” he’s been throwing a kind of permanent tantrum ever since.

Mandark: Since Fusion Dexter is often leading the tech aspect of Fuse’s army, Fusion Mandark comes second with sabotaging or repurposing the Fusion Fighter’s tech--like rewiring Mandroids to make them work for him instead of the real Mandark. He’s as intelligent as OG Mandark with less of the ego, particularly because if he showed it, he’d likely be punished for it. Still, all of that outrage makes him all the more determined when hacking into systems and turning Earth’s machines against itself. If he could though, he’s usurp Fusion Dexter as their lead scientist, and secretly looks for any flaw that might take the other down a peg.

Mandy: Fusion Mandy isn’t known for her strength so much as her intellect and ability to manipulate others. As such, while she’s often working behind the scenes with guards to protect her, she’s still a commanding officer in Fuse’s army with a hunger for power that rivals only her intense dominance of those under her. Beyond seeing the advantages of having Earth’s living manifestation of Death on their side, she’s jealous of the OG Mandy for her authority of OG Grim--unable to enforce that same authority over Fusion Grim due to their ultimate loyalties to Fuse and separate orders. As such, it’s her personal goal to get the real Grim under her control before Fuse consumes Earth. (She has similar feelings regarding Fusion and OG Billy, but not to the same extent since his fusion is less of a challenge.) She views her almost as a rival to steal everything from. Also unlike OG Mandy, who is at least willing to show some compassion to those she’s close to, her fusion won’t hesitate to sacrifice her underlings to achieve victory--following Fuse’s mindset that they’re tools who can simply be recreated if desired.

Mayor: Fusion Mayor is extremely weak, but far more ruthless than the real one. Since he can’t really fight--and the Fusion PPG answer to Fuse directly instead of him--his primary tasks involve poisoning food supplies and similar objectives. He’s small enough that he’s easily able to weave around forces when soldiers are distracted, and his fusion pickles look harmless enough at face value that he’s succeeded a good handful of times at infecting a whole cache of supplies. One on one though, he’s easily beatable and Fuse doesn’t tend to put too much thought into recreating him until he’s fallen out of contact for too long.

Mojo Jojo: At first he was confused, but there were no complaints from Fusion Mojo when his counterpart stole his fusion bananas and gave them to his minions--only for those minions to ally themselves to the former with several becoming Spawn Simians. If OG Mojo is going to sabotage himself, then he can have at it! It makes his tasks creating tech for Fuse all the easier by giving him additional forces as backup. As a result, he’s more concerned about other areas of the Fusion Fighters than his counterpart’s and can’t take them seriously. He’d call the real Mojo an idiot to his face.

Mr. Herriman: This fusion is exceptionally weak, but surprisingly diligent to Fuse despite being based on an imaginary friend. He’s kept in the Darkland for two reasons: To be closely monitored and handle more of the organizational/administrative work behind the scenes. As a result, he’s often silently hooked up to the hivemind to file away and pass along information while other fusions are distracted with other matters in real-time. It’s not the most useful skill for them, but does speed things up. The heavy workload also serves as a distraction in care he does feel a sudden rebellious streak.

Numbuh One: Fusion Numbuh One is a fierce commanding officer, but worse is that he’s maintained a lot of the real Numbuh One’s memories of his time in the KND. Beyond the dangerous of him possibly having important knowledge regarding the organization itself, this has allowed him to plot strategies involving emotional manipulation to attack Nigel and other members of the KND, such as kidnapping Robobradley in “Skunk Support.” He also knows how much guilt Nigel feels over the events of the GKND, and isn’t afraid to use that against him and those he cares about.

Numbuh Two: Fusion Numbuh Two isn’t one for direct confrontations. Instead, he prefers attacking others through subtler means like poison in “Eduardo and the Pirates (Part 4 of 4)” or by sending out fusion monsters in his stead. It might be a problem for Fuse if the fusion wasn’t so good at improving fusion monsters through his technological skills and increasing the defenses of areas he’s already captured by turning them into waiting death traps. This lack of experience, however, serves to make the fusion both weak and overconfident when trouble does arrive on his doorstep.

Numbuh Three: Fusion Numbuh Three prefers to capture her victims when she can rather than kill them. However, this just comes out of a greedy, possessive desire. If she sees something she likes, she has to have it--and that especially goes for the real Numbuh Three’s things. If it’s an actual person in question, she’ll view them as a toy. However, if you play along, you might have an easier time of tricking her and escaping. Just make sure you succeed...

Numbuh Four: Fusion Numbuh Four isn’t very different from his counterpart, just that he’s serving on the opposite side of the war and can always focus 100% of his energy on his missions. This basically makes him a fighting machine, who only seems to get stronger the angrier he gets in battle. He’s often made to fight on the front lines.

Numbuh Five: Fusion Numbuh Five shares a lot of the real Numbuh Five’s strengths, but is far more arrogant She mocks her opponents constantly, doing whatever she can to through them off or upset them. This includes going out of her way to upset OG Numbuh Five by stealing her candy and irradiating it despite it having little importance to the war effort. She doesn’t seem to be as smart as OG Numbuh Five though, since she tried to make an imaginary friend of her own--likely as a minion--when fusions don’t have imaginary energy and was tricked into believing the player was that friend in “Imaginary Reinforcements (Part 4 of 4).”

Princess: While not the most powerful, Fusion Princess’ combined tech and rage make her a fierce foe. However, she often makes sure to let fusion monsters do her dirty work ahead of time or even tries to manipulate Earth’s denizens first with empty promises of gain before trying to get rid of them after their usefulness is up. She belittles other fusions, starting fights with the more aggressive ones before their seniors threaten them back in line.

Professor Utonium: To make himself all the more useful to Fuse--and partly in competition with Fusion Dexter--Fusion Utonium experimented on himself to increase his physical strength and give him tentacles shooting from his back as an additional weapon. While Fusion Dexter focuses primarily on weaponry/cybernetics, Fusion Utonium focuses on biotechnology and mutations. Rather than simply destroy Earth’s lifeforms, he wants to see how they might be further corrupted to serve Fuse. He worked with Fusion Mandark to create the Scribble Spawns and works with Fusion Mojo Jojo to investigate the creation of the Spawn Simians.

Samurai Jack: Noted as one of--if not the--first fusion created, he’s had more than enough time to prove his usefulness to Fuse with great success. OG Jack is a warrior above all others among Earth’s forces, so his fusion plays a similar role. Few have been able to face him in combat due to his strengths matching his counterpart’s: If he had all of OG Jack’s memories, without being controlled by Fuse’s hivemind as much as he is, he’d be pretty much unstoppable. Even still, only those who have some guidance under OG Jack himself can really seem to face him. Similar to Fusion Demongo, Fusion Jack is kept in the Darklands as a means of leading/defending some of Fuse’s most important assignments/strongholds to the war effort.

Stickybeard: Fitting of a fusion based on a pirate, Fusion Stickybeard’s main objectives involve attacking and pillaging from soldiers. Most of his targets are those stationed away from the main bases, but he will occasionally steal from more important locations if given the order. His work has caused a lot of trouble from ruining supply lines to robbing integral information to the war effort. In the mission “Fusion Pirate’s Pillage,” he even managed to steal items for nano creation before the player stole them back.

Tetrax: OG Tetrax’s intergalactic mercenary experience made his fusion just as tough to beat. Not only can he handle fighting against Earth’s forces, but he also can direct some of Fuse’s allies like the Ectonurites. Never losing his cool, he’s a strategic, ruthless general to the end.

The Scotsman: Since this fusion’s sword doesn’t have the same magical properties as his OG counterpart, he’s mainly used as a relentless force of muscle--enough so to even gain a reputation among Earth’s soldiers. His Fusion Blade contains stronger concentrations of fusion matter than usual and therefore can infect victims with each cut like Fusion Grim’s scythe and Fusion Jack’s sword can. He often serves under Fusion Demongo, acting as an extension of the latter since he can’t often leave Fuse’s Lair.

Toiletnator: This fusion is one that Fuse looks at and goes, “Well... you exist.” He doesn’t have high expectations of Fusion Toiletnator, so he just lets another fusion give him orders for mostly menial tasks when needed. He’s not as clumsy as his counterpart, so he’s actually quick to get his tasks done.

Vilgax: While Fusion Vilgax is a powerful force to have on his side, Fuse really just savors having him due to how insulting he knows it is for the real Vilgax. Fuse never thinks of most other lifeforms as much more than bugs to stomp out before he absorbs their words, but he’s actually had a few run-ins with OG Vilgax during previous conquests to think of him as a very annoying gnat. Therefore, while he entrusts Fusion Vilgax with serious missions, he’ll also sometimes cause him to suffer in particular when he’s frustrated or if he knows OG Vilgax will see it as a means of showing off his power like a megalomaniac.

Wilt: Out of all the imaginary friend fusions, Wilt’s is the most difficult to control. He’s just too much like his counterpart: Overly apologetic with a strong desire to show kindness whenever he goes. Fuse constantly destroyed and recreated this fusion because he couldn’t follow through with orders--and may have deemed him too much trouble to keep around were it not for his borderline desperate sense of loyalty and the cybernetics that Fusion Mandark would later give him. Beyond an increase of strength, these cybernetics serve a double purpose: They aid in enforcing Fuse’s hivemind for Fusion Wilt in-particular and serve as a means of altering his persona by catering to the role of the evil Lord Snotzax, which OG Wilt took in the episode “Make Believe it or Not.” Even still, you’ll find that Fusion Wilt’s dark side isn’t so dark. The mission “Fizzy Rox and Roll” shows him only stealing candy. The worst he’s seemed to have done was set up Gooby Traps in the “Xtra Large Fusion” mission arc before going into hiding. As such, he’s pretty low on the totem pole when it comes to leading Fuse’s army.

#fusionfall #headcanons #fusions #individual fusions #fuse #video games

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fairydust-stuff · 4 years

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Enemy Yut Lung & Eiji one shot: Warning this one is not romantic or soft plantonic friends.

“ I’ve decided i’m going to be Ash Lynx’s enemy,” Yut Lung casually states.

Eiji freezes the implications of this statement slowly seeping into his brain. What the hell was this guys problem? He said he was just like Ash if that was the case why did he want to make his life harder?

At first Eiji had viewed Ash as untouchable, a powerful shonen hero like the ones from his childhood heroically fighting against evil men who wanted to control him but after that night. Eiji had seen the look of devastation on Ash’s face as he put a bullet in Shorter Wong’s brain. Even covered in the blood of his enemies ,Ash had such a shattered look about him.

The nights that followed were full of raw howls and heaving sobs as Eiji soothed Ash Lynx back to sleep. By day his gang members cowered from his wraith since the slightest thing they did seemed to set him off.

He cann’t handle anymore he’s been brutalized for far too long and as much as Eiji wished he was like those magically girl characters who made everything all right. He couldn’t just reach inside and rewire Ash’s brain or fix his heart with gentle fingers. All the love in the world could not repair the damage Golzine had inflicted.

Yut Lung had the means to tear what was left of Ash’s heart straight from his chest and crush it under his heel. Which is why Eiji said what he did next.

“ If your Ash’s enemy then i’ll be yours!” Eiji proclaimed defiantly.

Yut Lung’s usual hateful mocking expression was replaced by pure shock. Then he laughs.

“ Very well if you're my enemy” Yut Lung motions to the gun in Eiji’s hand and raises a delicate eyebrow as if to say get on with it.

Eiji raises the gun and points it at the other boy with one bullet and he can get rid of one more problem for Ash, but something about the other boy’s eyes makes him hesitate. There’s an uncomfortable familiar vibe to them that unnerves him and makes Eiji unable to pull the trigger and end things. Also killing an unarmed person, even one as vile as Yut Lung still isn’t right. It goes against everything he’s been taught.

“ Disgraceful, how can you be my greatest enemy if you cann’t even pull the trigger?” Yut Lung looks at him as if he’s a disappointing liar who cheated him.

Eiji’s plan was too escape and run directly to save Ash. he was just about to get back to that plan. When the younger boy who had looked pissed when he saw Eiji in the elevator shows up and tackles Eiji to the ground.

“ You ok?” he asks Yut Lung softly

“ I’m fine!” Yut Lung brushing the boy's concern away. “ Just get him back to his room” he snapped with irritation…

Eiji threw himself upon Yut Lung Lee who moved swiftly out of the way, he fell and smacked his head on the door.

“ Is this your way of persuading me you’ll be a good enemy or a court jester?” Yut Lung said with some amusement.

“ How did you know?” Eiji asked rubbing his head

“ I’m not the person to fall for the same trick twice” Yut Lung said …

Eiji shoves his dinner into the face of Yut Lungs servant and hurls the plate at him, the other boy dodges.

“ I’ll have another plate brought up for you, if you toss this one you can go to bed hungry” The younger boy warns with a pleasant smile…

“ How the hell did he get a lighter!” Yut Lung exclaimed furiously using expensive cloth to douse the flames to save his precious plants as the guards restrained a smirking Eiji...

“ Fine you can be my enemy, I certainly hate you enough” Yut Lung spat.

“ Great now please free me so i can save Ash” Eiji said.

“ No, though you have managed to irritate me, your technique is sloppy and unrefined. If you're going to be my enemy, you're going to become worthy of that title” Yut Lung makes a motion to his mafia goons who drag and blindfold Eiji when they take it off he sees he’s in an underground room.

“ Lets start with your breathing” Yut Lung states.

“ breathing?” Eiji demands

“ Its loud i can hear you coming, we need to change that” Yut Lung says simply “ But i need to” the mafia heir cuts him off “ I’ll keep an eye on the Ash situation” …

“ What? you have a shooting range on your estate?” Eiji exclaims looking at the fancy targets one of Yut Lung’s guys hands the boy a gun.

“ You should see the interrogation room in the basement” Yut Lung says sardonically and lines up his weapon and takes aim bam bam bam! Three straight shots in a row.

“ I cann’t tell if your fucking with me” Eiji said with a scowl.

“ Here” Yut Lung hands him a gun. Eiji frowns, forgive me Ash but i’m doing this to save you. He takes a few shots.

“ Disappointing” Yut Lung states.

“ What are you talking about i got half of them” Eiji argues.

“ Half isn’t good enough in a shoot out with me and my men” Yut Lung shot back. “ Lets talk about your shooting stance”

“ Ash showed me this!” Eiji argues.

“ What works for one person doesn’t work for everyone” Yut Lung informed him. “ Lets try some different stances and see if we can find one, That works better for you”

Eiji placed his arms and legs where Yut lung told him “ This is weaver stance its a boxer type, it might work better. You have a wider frame, Ash is more slender in build.”

It was surreal Eiji thought being taught by the one person he couldn’t stand who actually had some good advice. He found the second time he actually hit more of his targets. Yut Lung made him practice until almost nightfall...

Eiji found his days of being a captive were now loaded with lessons every day he was led blindfolded to some obscure location of the house. Where Yut Lung would instruct him on one topic or another...

“ Again” Yut Lung commands as Eiji pulls yet another acupuncture needle from his body. He was just glad they were clean; he still had awful memories of suddenly blacking out from whatever horrible substance the mafia heir put in those things.

Though he could do without Yut Lungs constant criticisms which made him want to curl in a corner and cry and took him back to his school days of struggling to balance athletics and still maintain perfect scores on every test. Eiji told himself at least the mafia heir wasn’t focused on Ash. Besides it was the same pressures he grew up with and this time he was determined not to crack…

A month later and Eiji was sitting at the dining room table apparently after no instances for a couple of weeks and Yut Lung had loosened his restrictions. Though he was still being lead to and tied to the table with one hand.

The boy who recaptured him who Eiji learned was called Sing Soo Ling was loading up and gobbling down what appeared to be multiple dishes.

“ You can at least use a napkin. I'm sure the Wong’s didn’t raise you to be a pig” Yut Lung remarks.

Sing responds by opening his mouth and giving the other boy a view of his chewed food. Yut Lung makes a soft sound of disgust as he delicately dabbles at his mouth. He turns to Eiji “ You made some slight improvements” he remarks. Coming from Yut Lung, it's almost a complement.

“ Are you seriously training this guy to be your enemy?” Sing demands incredulously

“ Honestly he wasn’t even my first choice” Yut Lung responds.

“ You ritch types are weird” the fourteen year old said.

“ i don’t go around with something called dragon fang” Yut Lung retorted.

“ Maybe if you did, you’d get taken hostage less!” Sing responded.

“ He got the jump on me. How is that my fault?” Yut Lung exclaims

Eiji watches incredulously as the two of them get into a pointless argument going back and forth there’s no heat to it really, rather a sense of comfort. Its the kind of argument he might have with his younger sister. Its just odd seeing this casual behavior from Yut Lung Lee of all people.

“ So Eiji has this guy dangled you over a snake pit yet?” Sing asks cheerfully

“ Where did you hear something so ridiculous?” Yut Lung complains

“ Servant gossip” Sing replies.

“ They’ve gotten chattier since my brothers illness” Yut Lung scowls.

“ Come on Yue don’t be so uptight” Sing coaxes

“ What’s the point of having a staff if they don’t know how to stay quiet” the mafia heir points out.

“ Their not spilling any secrets, just making up odd stories ” Sing pointed out.

“ If i hear one word of actual Lee businesses pass anyone's lips…” Yut Lung was interrupted by the entrance of a servant girl who whispered something in his ear.

“ What!” Yut Lung hurled one of the dishes at the wall.

“ Getting hysterical again!” Sing teased him.

“ Shut up!” Yut lung got up “ No one can seem to find Ash”...

Eiji sits in his room Yut Lung is too off kilter to continue his training. Sing gives him updates saying that the mafia heir spends a lot of time sending his people out, waiting by the phone and has even headed out a few times himself. It worries him that Yut Lung hasn’t actually given up on Ash. So he does push ups and pull ups every day to keep in shape. Eiji practices the stealth techniques Yut Lung showed him. He steals a pen so he can practice writing the codes on the walls he was taught to decipher and study. He has Sing bring him firearms so he can practice taking them apart and putting them back together.

Then Yut Lung visits him a few days later“ We found Ash” Eiji watches all of the tension from the past few days vanish from him with those three words. This guy was actually concerned for Ash?

“ You really are devoted to becoming my enemy” Yut Lung comments tracing codes on the walls with astonishment.

“ Ash?” Eiji asked

“ He escaped from one of Dino Golzine’s secret government funded organizations ” Yut Lung looks bothered like this is something he hadn’t known about. “ He’s been experimenting on criminals with Banana Fish” …

Its one more day then he’ll finally see Ash and the others again. “ Now before our final lesson there’s someone i want you to meet” Yut Lung leads Eiji into a room down the hall and opens the door. He gasps there’s a grown man with eyes like Shorter’s drooling on himself! He groans at Yut Lung who touches his cheek lightly.

“ Eiji may i introduce Hua Lung my older brother”

“ You used that horrible drug on him!” Eiji backs up.

Its wrong, even worse is the way Yut Lung pulls his living human puppet into an affectionate embrace, his eyes gleaming with hate.

“ Hua Lung was my former enemy” the younger boy pauses. “ Tomorrow i’ll be giving you back to Ash”

Eiji stares stunned at how his arms are still wrapped so tenderly around the one who he had so thoroughly destroyed.

“ Don’t look so surprised” Yut Lung says, misunderstanding the reason for his reaction.

“ I only wanted to deliver Ash to Golzine to force him to be my enemy” Yut Lung looked Eiji in the eyes over the shoulder of his zombie brother. “ Now you are my worst enemy, who will someday destroy me”...

“ Eiji!” Ash embraces him tightly as if he never wants to let him go. Eiji manages to persuade Ash, Yut Lung was just giving him a safe place to stay. The blond would go ballistic if he knew the truth.

Their just about to go then Yut Lung pulls him into a hug Eiji’s body goes entirely stiff he feels the softness of the other boys hands on his skin his voice in his ear like a lovers caress “ Goodbye for now, Eiji”

then the hands are gone his body feels chilled as he remembers exactly who else was embraced with such vindictive tenderness.

“ Eiji .what’s wrong?” Ash asked

“ Yes Big Brother Eiji are you cold?” Yut Lung asks innocently.

Eiji suddenly feels the full weight of the obligation he’s agreed to pressing down on him. How is he supposed to look at those oddly familiar eyes and manage to close them forever? But if he doesn't, well Eiji doesn’t want to think about it.

#banana fish #yut lung lee #yue lung #yut lung #yau si #why does he have so many names?#creepy yut lung #eiji okumura #bird & the snake #enemies au #Eiji is very unsettled #Yut lung has a weird relationship with hate #Eiji should of been Yue's enemy #Ash had Arthur and Fox to fight!#Though they screwed up Fox and Ash as enemy foils too!#asheiji #yut lung & eiji #from my one shot collection

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chockfullofsecrets · 4 years

Text

Critical Role: Sleep and Stories

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Here, sitting with Caduceus in the rooftop garden of what with the Mighty Nein’s growing penchant for multilingual portmanteaus was becoming colloquially known as the Xhorhaus, he was feeling oddly relaxed.

A little too relaxed, maybe.

Fjord has trouble staying awake during one of Caduceus’ stories. It’s not hard for Caduceus to find a way to help him pay attention.

Wordcount: 2710

A/N: An anon sent me a description of a fic they were looking for, and even though we couldn’t find it the idea was so soft that I decided it had to exist :)

Fjord was starting to see the appeal of gardens.

He definitely had a long way to go before becoming a proper follower of Melora - it was painfully easy to picture the Wildmother’s well-meant disapproval every time he got within five feet of some foreign plant or animal and promptly embarrassed himself - but here, sitting with Caduceus in the rooftop garden of what with the Mighty Nein’s growing penchant for multilingual portmanteaus was becoming colloquially known as the Xhorhaus, he was feeling oddly relaxed.

A little too relaxed, maybe. He and Caduceus had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, and he had asked for one of the stories of the Wildmother that his fellow disciple seemed to be in endless supply of. Fjord was doing his best to pay attention, but up here it felt as if the entire world was wrapping around him and lulling him to rest - the ever-present darkness broken only by the glow of divine lanterns, the gentle rustle of a thousand leaves in a slow breeze, the smell of earth and greenery in every direction telling him that he was being watched over and cradled in caring hands. The worst culprit, perhaps, was the bass of Caduceus’ slow voice, pitched even lower to better embody the gravity of the ancient tale he was telling. It gave him the childlike urge to lay his head against Caduceus’ chest, to feel the words echo through the emptiness Uk’otoa’s orbs had left inside him and take root in his bones. Not, he thought sleepily, that he would have been able to act on such an urge as the orphan child or the lonely adult that he had been only a year ago. He was endlessly fortunate to have such an intimate gesture as even a passing consideration now.

Maybe, just maybe, the Wildmother was telling him to go to sleep before he did something stupid.

“You’re not listening at all, are you?”

Fjord came back to himself at the remonstration, realizing with a sudden shock that he was no longer imagining the physicality of Caduceus’ voice. A quick canvassing of the surroundings revealed that he had, in fact, dozed off on top of Caduceus, temple pressed just below his collarbone.

Oh, Wildmother, nature really was a fickle bitch sometimes.

“Oh! My apologies, Caduceus, I - the story was lovely. I’m afraid it failed to compete with the tranquility of the lovely space you’ve created up here.”

Caduceus waited for him to trail awkwardly into silence, chuckling as Fjord tried and failed to stifle a stray yawn. “That’s fine, Fjord. I’m glad you like it up here, and I know I’m not the most exciting person to listen to. Why don’t you head down for the night?”

“No,” Fjord protested, feeling terribly guilty as his impromptu pillow started to get up, and in a moment of brash inspiration he slumped further into Caduceus until he was certain the firbolg wouldn’t be able to move without toppling them both. “Start again, please, if you have the time. I’m the one who asked you to tell a tale, and I would truly love to hear it.”

Even from a low angle, he could make out the surprised twitch of Caduceus’ ears, the corner of a smile in sudden bloom - he was pleased, heartbreakingly so at such a simple courtesy, and Fjord resolved instantly to say nice things to him more often.

“Might be easier to stay awake if you sit up,�� Caduceus told him. One of his hands came up, and Fjord thought for a second that Caduceus might shove him off. Beau would definitely have shoved him off by now. But the hand simply enveloped his shoulder, warm and waiting.

Fjord elected to take full advantage of the invitation. “You’re comfortable,” he grumped, scrubbing the side of his face against Caduceus’ homespun shirt before it occurred to him how weird a thing that was to do.

Caduceus rumbled beneath him in quiet amusement - if Fjord wasn’t pressed up against him, he didn’t think he would have noticed. So much about Caduceus, he was starting to realize, was buried about six feet deep beneath his placid exterior. “Well, then. In that case, maybe this will keep you up.”

Natural as rainfall, his hand skimmed off Fjord’s shoulder and down his ribs, his thumb tracing a meandering line along the side of Fjord’s stomach. Fjord flinched instinctively, sniggering before he could stop himself, and buried his nose in Caduceus’ shoulder with even less decorum than before to keep himself from laughing outright. “Ah - I-”

Caduceus, entirely unworried, swiped his thumb back up and then down again. “Yes?”

Part of him was trying frantically to think of how Caduceus knew that he was ticklish - had he seen Beau prodding at him? Did Jester let it slip? It was the same part of him that, even now, kept track of how visible his tusks were every time he opened his mouth, the part that bristled in fear-anger-control when he met someone taller or broader than him or at a certain look in a bystander’s eye.

The rest of him, still soothed by the scent of plant life and the drowsy contact of cheek against skin-warmed cloth, was awash in mirth as goosebumps prickled in the wake of Caduceus’ fingers. Fjord tried to encourage it; his side was already growing sore from shoving into Caduceus’ space and holding himself there and so he sprawled even further to pillow his head in the firbolg’s lap, met his tranquil gaze and let the helpless smile pulling at his lips settle as it wished.

“I’m listening,” he said, hyper-aware of how the syllables crackled with laughter. “For - hm! - for now, at least.”

Caduceus started the story again. It was, surprisingly, easier to stay awake with the new sensation, the lazy loop of Caduceus’ fingers altered just enough at each pass to keep them constantly nudging at his attention. His fingers caught on the edge of Fjord’s navel, once, and he apologized mid-sentence as Fjord snorted out a proper laugh and squirmed in an involuntary moment of panic.

Stories of the Wildmother, from what Fjord could tell, had no clear rise or fall of action, just a simple sectioning by quests or commands or pure happenstance. Still, he could tell that the tale was nearly over when the trapdoor leading up from the tower to the garden creaked open.

Silver-tipped horns and blue hair popped up over the edge in a pretense of stealth, violet eyes making the most cursory attempt to evaluate the scene before the tiefling they belonged to sent the wooden door clattering open and scrambled up. “Hel-lo! Caduceus, can I ask you something - oh, hi Fjord! - ooh.”

Caduceus wasn’t talking anymore, but his thumb continued to rub gently against Fjord’s belly. Fjord tried to prop himself up on an elbow anyway, at least making a token attempt at dignity, and realized a moment too late that his muscles had apparently jellified in the face of his ticklish stupor. He wobbled and ended up right back on the ground where he’d started, cheek planted against Caduceus’ thigh. “Hi, Jester,” he sighed. Squeaked, if he was being honest.

Jester crept over to him as if he were some kind of rare woodland animal - though, knowing her, she’d probably rush straight at the thing and try to scoop it up - and cooed. He would have been embarrassed, but his ability for it had apparently disappeared along with his brain’s connection to his arms.

Relaxation was wild.

Still, something tweaked the pit of his stomach with subdued alarm as Jester suddenly blocked out his entire field of vision. “Oh, can I?” she asked abruptly, fingers out and wiggling diabolically. She wasn’t looking at him.

“Um,” Fjord said.

“Sure,” Caduceus allowed easily from what seemed like miles above his head. “What did you want to ask me?”

There were a number of things Fjord wanted to say about this development, most of them starting with ‘wait, what?’, but then Jester was scrubbing her fingers over his belly in a way he was pretty sure he’d seen her do to her dog once and it was entirely impossible for him to participate in any sort of conversation given how desperately he was laughing. “Jes!” he barked, scrambling for her wrists, or maybe to tickle her in return - if Caduceus’ ministrations had mired him in quietude, then Jester’s brazen attack was certainly a trigger to fight back.

Unfortunately, whatever battle lust he could muster couldn’t change the fact that he was at a complete disadvantage - he was prone, no armor of any sort to protect the soft spots that Jester was ruthlessly exploiting, and the way he was leaning against Caduceus made it nearly impossible to free either of his arms. Jester’s tail clamped around his knee, squeezing in a way that made his entire leg spasm, and he laughed even harder in a poor attempt to repress outright hysterics. “A-hah!-Jes, c’mon, stoppit-”

“Shush, Fjord, Caduceus and I are talking,” Jester said, almost petulant in her teasing. Her casual disregard was immediately belied by the warm smile she gave him, ruffling his hair into a complete disaster over his eyes before returning to tickling him silly, all the while chattering with Caduceus about pastries of some sort.

Fjord thought that maybe this was going to be how he died. Well, at least he was here with two clerics; he’d probably come back.

“Fjord,” Caduceus said what seemed like an entire hour later, catching the last fraying edge of his sanity as he looked up in desperate hope of salvation. “Should I start telling the story again?”

“The- the story?” Fjord’s spine nearly broke of its own accord as Jester zeroed in on a particularly delicate spot just south of his ribs. “Noho! She’s going - gods, plehehease Jes - she’s going to kill me, help!”

Fjord continued to plead for his life as Caduceus frowned slowly, processing the situation, and finally - “Oh, Jester, wait - hey, now-” He reached over Fjord, and abruptly his body was blessedly free from evil tickling fingers and Jester was squealing with laughter of an intensity that made him wince on her behalf.

Fjord finally struggled up to his elbows, wheezing out the remnants of giggles as he watched Caduceus efficiently mine every inch of ticklish flesh on Jester’s hips for unrestrained, screaming laughter. With his long reach, he herded her struggling form away from Fjord until she gave up completely and flopped to the ground in front of them, spouting fervently incomprehensible apologies.

Through it all, Caduceus didn’t even bat an eyelid. Fjord was probably going to have nightmares about this.

“There we go,” he said a moment later, rubbing Jester’s back where she lay face-first in the soil and glancing back down at Fjord. “Sorry, kind of slipped my mind there - you look, uh, purple? Are you okay?”

Thin fingers, appreciably delicate despite their size, brushed his hair away from his forehead and patted gently at his cheeks. As if he was a drooping flower, or a twisted stalk that needed to be nudged back towards the sun - it was tender enough to make Fjord dizzy.

“You’re my hero,” he confessed, grinning helplessly, and slumped back onto Caduceus with an unceremonious thump. “Okay, keep going, I want to hear what happens to Palak.”

Like one of Caduceus’ mushrooms, Jester’s head popped up from the soil with alarming speed. “Wait, is there a story?” she asked, pausing to spit out a mouthful of dirt. She was kneeling in front of Caduceus in an instant, one hand planted just shy of his furred leg in supplication. “Can I listen too?”

Her voice was light, but with his face so close to the earth Fjord could just make out the way her other hand clenched reflexively against her skirts in the face of Caduceus’ unperturbed expression. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had a nighttime story, you know? I mean, I read ‘Tusk Love’ all the time before bed because it’s the best story ever, but it’s not the same, and - ooh, does your story have true love in it?”

Caduceus tilted his head, considering. “Well, it’s an ancient tale that’s been passed down through my family. I suppose you could say it has a similar kind of devotion.”

“There’s a guy with a shovel that has a holy leather thong on the handle,” Fjord added helpfully. Jester’s grip on her skirts relaxed as she threw back her head and laughed at the unintended innuendo, just the way he knew she would, and he smiled back at her.

Caduceus smiled too, although Fjord thought it might be more in response to Jester’s happiness than an understanding of the joke. “Of course you can listen. Should I start at the beginning?”

“No, wait, I can do it,” Fjord insisted, reaching blindly up to pat at Caduceus’ shoulder. “I’ve heard it twice now, after all.” He cleared his throat as dramatically as he could while flat on his back. Jester leaned in, Caduceus looking down on them both, and Fjord dutifully recounted what he remembered of the tale - a barren, cracked land where seeds lay atop the earth and were ravaged by birds, a mossy-skinned orc receiving a sign from the Wildmother and following the jagged scars on the earth back to their source so he could dig up an ancient boon. Caduceus remained silent through his rendition of the tale, even when Fjord referred to one of the more persistent avian attackers as ‘a real fucker’.

He’d been told that he had a knack for stories out at sea, with all of his crewmates having nothing better to do when the winds calmed - accomplished liars, every single one of them. He wasn’t sure if the Wildmother would approve of his particular style of embellishment, but it did feel nice to tell a true story for once.

Eventually he reached the point where Caduceus left off and came to a stop himself. Jester appeared perfectly rapt, budged up against him and Caduceus with wide eyes and one leg crooked up over his arm. He looked next to Caduceus, somewhat anxious, and found him pleasantly approving. “That was really good,” he commended, and the compliment felt all the better for the way Fjord could feel it echoing through his skull. “You’ll do a good job of passing these on, when the time comes.”

“It’s not finished,” Jester protested, tail lashing animatedly behind her as she sprang up and unleashed a flurry of gentle slaps on both of them - being Jester, they still stung quite a bit. “Caduceus, tell us how it ends!”

“Please,” Fjord drawled, purposefully patronizing, and just laughed as Jester slapped him again before dutifully echoing the pleasantry.

He laughed again as Caduceus harrumphed and blinked, moving even slower than usual in a way that he read as absolutely intentional even before feeling the same slow rumble of amusement against his shoulders. “Sit still then,” Caduceus intoned, teasing, and with a pout Jester settled back with legs crossed primly, the picture of an intent listener.

From the corner of his eye, Fjord could see her trying to tickle the sole of Caduceus’ bare foot with her toes. Smirking to himself, he rolled over a little and added a finger or two to her efforts.

The rumble intensified into something that could probably be quantified as an audible laugh. Fjord was tempted to push further, but Caduceus reached out again, drawing Jester’s offending foot into his lap and bringing one silvered hand back down to Fjord’s belly in warning. “Don’t tickle me,” he said mildly. “I’m trying to tell a story.”

“Okay, o-kay,” Jester squeaked hastily, shuffling to accommodate the new twist of her legs and eventually just laying down on her side and cuddling up next to Fjord. Her hair smelled of paint and cinnamon - he wondered where she’d found the latter in Xhorhas, and decided he might be better off not knowing. “There, we’re ready, go!”

The soft breeze blew a little warmer, as if in approval. Fjord watched Caduceus smile up at his tree, at the lights, and found himself pleasantly sure of a happy ending.

#tickling #critical role #fjorclay #caduceus clay #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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itsheibai · 4 years

Text

—byzantium

pairing: markren | rating: M | smut, angst, spy au | wc: 3.7k

Part 0 | Part 1 | Part 2

summary: “Wanna spend the night together, Huang?” “Hm? Like, with Chenle? Like a sleepover?” “Like, you and me.”

Sexual relationships between agents are not frowned upon. That’s true. But feelings? Feelings more than that of professional, perhaps casual friendship, between agents? Illegal. Completely and truly illegal.

warning(s): drunk sex, first time, mild language, description of physical injuries.

“Come on. I’m not dismissing you until you finish your drink.”

“But sir,-“

“Oh come on. As you said yourself, you owe me your life. The least you could do is drop this sir nonsense around me.”

Chenle looked at him in a desperate move to seek an ally who would back him up on this debriefing turned unauthorised hazing session, but Renjun could only give him a shrug. ‘He’s right, you know,’ he mouthed. It was successful in forcing Chenle to let out a defeated sigh.

“But… Mark,” Chenle’s voice hitched at the end and Renjun would’ve burst into an endeared giggle if Mark didn’t give his thigh a sharp pinch, “we’re not supposed to indulge in intoxicating substances during a mission.”

Mark’s eyes widened, as if challenging Chenle to also open his eyes and observe more clearly the evidence lying in front of him on the corner table of a fancy hotel bar.

A fancy, empty hotel bar that they broke into because Mark insisted for them to find a new environment to do their first debriefing as a team.

“What do you think these glasses held? Water?”

“I’ve been holding on to a prayer that it was coca cola.”

It was unfair that Mark allowed himself to let out a free laugh while underneath the table he used the heel of his boots to dig into Renjun’s shin, when he must’ve seen the sliver of a smirk flickering onto the corner of his mouth.

Bad cop, good cop dynamic is fun and all. Renjun just found it unfair that they were doing it this way, especially after everything that's happened earlier in the day.

‘Chenle is my mentee,’ he coded a stealth message with a frantic tapping on Mark’s knee. ‘How dare you.’

‘Calm down.’ Mark responded. Not with a code, but only with a fleeting squeeze of Renjun’s fingers. No further elaboration needed.

“Fair. I like your style, kid,” Mark huffed, before finally discarding his formal stance by leaning back into the plush backing of the corner booth they were all huddling on. He cocked his chin, and sent Chenle away from their brief meeting after throwing him the unopened can of coke that Renjun was planning to mix with the rest of his rum.

Chenle shot one last thankful look at Renjun before shooting out of his stool so quickly he nearly sent it skidding across the parqueted floor.

Lucky, that Chenle excused himself so hastily. Because not even three seconds later, Mark unravelled at his seams. Their newbie tech assistant hasn’t even exited the room and already he crumpled, like a balled tissue paper, onto Renjun’s shoulder.

“It was so close.” Mark’s trembling sigh was hot against his neck, and to that Renjun’s hand shot up, without even him commanding it, to land protectively over his temple. “It was his first mission, Renjun, his first.”

An avoidable mistake. Them, not being able to command their injured limbs to move faster than humanly possible. A miscalculation on their enemy’s motives.

Three slips. They were lucky it was only three. They were lucky their last second desperate effort to keep their mission from imploding in on itself worked. Four, and this mission would’ve been Chenle’s last.

Mark’s smile was gone. His ease, his calm, his confidence, his… lies. All gone. Taking their place was lips scrunched and bitten to kingdom come, and tears. Streaming freely down his deathly pale face.

Renjun didn’t need to see all that to know what was happening. He didn’t need to feel the warmth of Mark’s tears seeping into the sleeves of his shirt. Not even the nearly negligible shake of his shoulders, as he’s known it too well. They’ve gone through so many days like this that it was nothing more but a normal occurrence.

He remembered clearly their first day. Not their first day at work, no. But their first day that something went terribly, terribly wrong and they have to live their life with one less brick to protect them from falling to oblivion.

They lied on their backs at their safe house. Side by side. Way too close but not enough at the same time. They spent the night staring at the ceiling and letting the waves of tears nearly drown them.

Time passed way too quickly and none whatsoever that night that sometimes, Renjun felt that he would blink and find himself there again. On the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse, with Mark’s nails digging firmly into his palm as the sole reminder for his humanity.

Since then, he’s learned to stop crying. Not on near misses, not on complete losses. Not when he has to fill in the damage report, nor when he has to be the one to push the button to clean all evidence.

But Mark, on the other hand?

Mark. Stoic, dependable Mark. Mark who has his back covered in raw notches so deep they reveal his bones. Yellowing and brittle. Signifying all the failures he thought only he must bear.

He cries. Always.

“I’ll book us all a spot for psych eval tomorrow.”

Mark let out a nasal laughter before discreetly wiping the tears off his cheeks. He picked his head up and away from Renjun’s shoulder before tipping it back to allow his fifth dose of whiskey to slide through his throat in a path of least resistance. “You and your psych evals.”

“You and your uncontrolled emotions.” Renjun quipped back.

“Crying is better than having a fucking lobotomy, Huang.”

Renjun tensed at that, just minutely. A brief, nearly unnoticeable second of pure animosity before everything went back to normal. But Mark felt it. He must have. Because he handwaved it with a drunken chuckle and forcibly pulled back the drape that Renjun’d so carefully put over the topic with a loud thud that his glass made when slammed against the wooden table.

“Wanna spend the night together?”

“Hm? Like, with Chenle? Like a sleepover?”

“Like, you and me.”

Renjun frowned. But not because of his preposition. Oh, no.

Sexual relationships between agents aren’t frowned upon. Everyone knows that when you just gotta do it, you gotta do it. Besides, it’s easy. As your partner is more often than not a. The only person with you at a month long stakeout or b. The only person who is allowed to know you exist.

He frowned because it was Mark who asked him for the favour. Chenle, he could even probably understand better. But Mark?

Five years they’ve been paired together in missions of varying difficulties, and each time Mark would rather risk a penalty for spending an unauthorised night in town than to do it with the only other person stuck with him in a cabin in the woods.

Not even once.

“Are you sure?” He tried to clarify. Maybe, to see if Mark was joking and he would be spared of any disappointment.

Mark only responded with an easy shrug, head lolling heavily from one side to the other with a careless smile propped on his pale lips. ‘You’re my only option here,’ he seemed to say, with how easy he stood up from the sofa before offering a helping hand to Renjun. ‘You’re easy.’

Insulting, but Renjun wouldn’t want it any other way.

The walk to Mark’s room was painfully uneventful, even if in all actuality Renjun was there, being the mental embodiment of a raging hurricane. Thoughts flying around, anticipation, worry, excitement, fear. From the lock breaking to his chest of denial that contained all the guilt he felt from spending the last five years of working with Mark fantasising about this happening to him, one day.

To silence it, he took charge.

The moment Mark closed the door behind him, Renjun charged at him and hounded relentlessly at his whiskey tinted lips. Tongue, forcing them to open. Teeth, biting them until they both tasted blood, not stopping until he felt a set of strong fingers grabbing his hair near his roots and pulling them back, hard enough that he finally let go.

“I never remember being taught that during our honeypot course,” Mark laughed, very easily, and Renjun forced himself to match it with something similar.

“I take a few liberties.”

Mark seemed to get that Renjun wished to take the lead, as he didn’t resist when Renjun practically dragged him to the bed and tossed him on it so easily. Just as easy as how he went and discarded Mark’s civilian clothes in one fell swoop.

He didn’t let even a single peep during the entire process. Not even a single witty quip.

At first Renjun found it to be odd, but not for long. The sight of a poorly healed wound on the side of Mark’s lower stomach, bumpy and raised and covered in strings of silvery skin, reminded him that they’ve actually done this quite often in the past. Undressing the other and holding them by the skin they were born in, that this, should be just another walk in the park.

Although, well, context matters. Usually, when that happened, the person being undressed would be teetering on the verge of death. The subtlety of this conditioning brought a bitter taste to the back of Renjun’s tongue, but he ignored it with a quick swallow.

“Will you take yours off?” Mark asked, fingers absently fiddling on the hem of Renjun’s shirt.

He swatted it off with a snip. “Of course.”

Mark raised his hands in defence and carelessly flung himself back to the bed. The way he rested on his folded arms with a peculiar crook on his eyebrows made Renjun feel as if he was being judged in the way he chose to undress himself. Which was hasty, and emotionless. Borderline clinical.

“That was depressing,” Mark scoffed.

“Give me 25% of your next salary if you want a performance.”

“Fair,” he said, followed by a hearty laugh, “I have no use of ‘em anyway.”

But contrary to his brazen words, Mark’s action was marred with uncertainty.

Renjun went on to straddle him and he could see Mark’s expression flickering briefly to one of panic.

His fingers teetered dangerously close to Renjun’s naked thighs, as if Mark was waiting for some sort of unneeded guidance, and it pulled an odd smile onto his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been with a man before.” Feeling suddenly brave in the face of Mark’s flustering, Renjun took his hands and boldly pressed it on the dip of his waist. Pressing them down as he also lowered himself so his inner thigh was fully pressing against Mark’s firm stomach.

His palms were cold. Clammy. Would’ve shook with nerves if they still had the nerves that allowed their hands to do such a thing.

Mark’s nervous gulp was audible and it only further widened Renjun’s smile. “Things have never worked in that favour.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me because I’ve always gotten a catch, or lucky me because you’re my first?”

Renjun rolled his eyes and used the bed of his palm to push on Mark’s forehead. “You’re way too drunk. Just shut up.”

He then reached for the hotel room’s rickety bedside table. Rummaging through the complimentary knick knacks for that small bottle of lube because such a gaudy hotel must have provided one, right?

Absolutely.

He palmed the cheap plastic bottle and returned, only to see Mark had started to anxiously chew on his bottom lip.

Such an off character tick, he thought amusedly.

“Don’t worry, just think of this as your usual recourse. I have it all covered.” Renjun threw those reassurance while he busied himself with preparing for the activity ahead. The lube was cheap, and more sticky on his skin than anything else. But it’d make do.

He was so preoccupied with his action that it took him a good minute before noticing that Mark was still lying there with a worried expression on his face.

It caused him to chuckle. With pity, and nothing else. “Just do what you usually do, Mark. I got this.”

That one seemed to work. As soon after, his eyebrows began to untangle from the creases of his forehead in a moment of clarity. But Mark’s lightening of mood proved to be a hindrance soon enough. Because he then snatched the plastic bottle from between the creases of the bedsheet, poured the content onto his fingers, and forcefully replaced Renjun’s hand in their preparation with his.

To that, Renjun looked at him with surprise that bordered on alarm. But Mark didn’t share such sentiment.

“You told me to do what I usually do,” he said with such ease. A complete one eighty to the confusion he sported not even half a minute ago. At the same time, easily, he enacted a surprisingly needy gasp out of Renjun with an easy curl on his fingers. “Did you think I only ever lay down and ask my partner to do all the work?”

Renjun had to force out a scoff to stop the situation from taking a worse turn from the bad place he found himself in, “sorry for assuming. I was only basing it on your professional track record.”

“Oh fuck you.” Mark mumbled, before he easily flipped their positions around so that he was then straddling Renjun in turn.

Even if he was drunk, Mark still had a sharp eye in observing what buttons he should push to make Renjun unravel in his arms. One finger to two. One hand pushing him to two. Teeth nibbling at his ear, and a knee absentmindedly rubbing against his erection.

Too little turned too much in record time and Renjun had to wrangle all his willpower with all his might only to push Mark away so he could roll himself around to his belly and force the sludge of an unnecessary foreplay away from their session.

Renjun raised his hips, and commanded Mark to start with an easy tilt of his head. “Do it.” He added, when he didn’t sense any movement coming from his partner. He instantly regretted it. Speaking, in this case. Because his voice sounded so weak, then. Far too weak. A reedy, trembling tone completely betraying the wall of carefully constructed confidence that were actually made out of nothing but shredded sheets of paper bound together with school glue.

A wall which instantly crumbled down with something as easy as Mark’s hands coiling around his waist in a sure grip.

None of the walls remained when Mark entered him, so slow and carefully, giving Renjun an undeservingly long breathing period with his chest pressing flush against his feverish back.

Renjun had to resort to his own strength by biting down onto his lips until droplets of blood fell on the pristine bedsheet when he felt Mark’s breath hot against his nape as he began to move. Slowly, at first. Before picking up in pace when he didn’t sense any resistance coming from Renjun, who was actually struggling to stay on his elbows beneath his drunken weight.

And, lastly, damningly, he couldn’t stop a choked moan from escaping him when Mark gave his earlobe a tender kiss before he whispered, “I want to see you.”

“It’s fine.” Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. Renjun’s words were trapped in the back of his throat, forced out in fragmented gasps everytime Mark were to drive himself far enough within him. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

“I want to see you.”

Mark took things into his own hands when Renjun was left petrified at his request. Dragging his shoulders so they rolled to the side, before pushing down on his wrists together with him reentering Renjun in one fluid motion. It pulled a shamefully blissful sigh and Renjun wished that he could sublimate to nothing at that very second.

But clever Mark, he didn’t let go, didn’t even make any moves until Renjun’d stopped resisting. Which was, coincidentally or not, the right thing to do. Because Renjun would’ve let his instinct overtake him and rushed away from the scene so fast if Mark wasn’t there, trapping him in a cage that for once he couldn’t find a way to escape from.

Mark wiped the thin stream of blood from Renjun’s chin before he captured his wounded lips in a deep kiss.

Life, wasn’t it? All this just so he could feel alive, to show that he is alive. To know that Renjun is alive, too. Making sure that he’s ok, with his hands roaming and lingering at tender spots that were beginning to bloom in purples and reds, tracing over tight skin that surrounded shallow cuts dyed brown with iodine. You’re alive. It was so clear. His desperate celebration, ringing each time Mark pressed his fingers onto the skin of his neck, memorising the beat of his racing heart.

Because at the end of the day, they only had each other. Nothing existed before their five years of working together. So nobody else understood their fear. A fear, they’ve discussed this before, but a fear that they won’t have any recollection of their partnership if one of them were to succeed the other.

If Mark wasn’t there to remember him, who would? If Mark wasn’t there to remember him, nobody would.

So each time, without fail, they would find themselves clinging to each other when the fear became too much to bear. Of how easily it would be for their memories, for their very own essence of being, to be ripped out of their hands together with the life of a person that you hold with much more reverence than even you would to a lover (if, they could have lovers).

Difference was, they’ve never done it physically. The clinging, that is. General presence was usually enough. Warmth, that seeped past their uniform to remind themselves that they were not alone, a luxury.

This?

Mark’s forehead pressing against his as he breathlessly mouthed his name to the rhythm of their movement?

Sexual relationships between agents are not frowned upon. That’s true.

But feelings? Feelings more than that of professional, perhaps casual friendship, between agents? Illegal.

Completely and truly illegal.

In an uncharacteristic moment of panic, Renjun regrettably lost control of his inhibitions. Body tensing up and face contorting into an expression of apprehension. Fear. Because he wanted this so much and yet… loathed it at the same time.

It was regrettable as it caused Mark to notice him even more than before. He slowed down and gave all his attention to Renjun, who, at that moment, wished for nothing more than to be treated as a worthless, mindless piece of toy for Mark to seek his pleasure in.

Too late for that, though.

‘Did I hurt you?’ The way Mark gingerly traced his fingers up along the length of his arms seemed to spell these questions. ‘What’s wrong?’

Mark paused, and the palm that caressed his cheeks felt too natural, too practiced, (too soft), that it pulled a tight knot within Renjun’s stomach.

Having no other choice, he answered Mark’s silent question with a silent answer of his own. With a hand on his nape, Renjun pulled him back down so his burning forehead was pressed against the nook of his shoulder. He forced Mark into action with an urgent whisper,

“Faster.”

Mark wouldn’t stop until he was sure that Renjun, too, finished.

Mark wouldn’t stop, not until he fell on Renjun in a heap of drunken, exhausted, snoring mess.

Renjun could only stare at the dusty ceiling until the warmth spreading over his stomach has turned gummy and cold. Embarrassing.

To let Mark see him in such a vulnerable moment.

Illegal.

Renjun carefully slipped away from underneath him, spending a total of three seconds scrubbing the extreme fatigue away from his brain (the ones who begged him to fuck it all and just lay down beside Mark and to deal with whatever would be the aftermath of such action come next morning), and dragged himself the the ensuite to do some very needed clean up.

Because of course Mark, that lazy bastard, finished inside of him.

Renjun nearly left him as he was for revenge, once he walked out of the shower fresh, warm, and sleepy as all hell and saw that Mark had belly flopped to the edge of the bed. Let him be, and Renjun was sure Mark would wake up with an annoying sore neck. Serves him right.

But no. Nah. Nope. Regretfully, he couldn’t allow their best asset to be compromised after such a petty reason. So Renjun, the kind man that he is, went and gently repositioned Mark so his head no longer lolled halfway on the firm pillow. Went and wet a small towel and cleaned him up. Took his pants and put it back on him, gently.

If Mark was awake during all that, he acted accordingly. Softly snoring and fully compliant. Didn’t stop Renjun when after he spent a good fifteen seconds admiring his handiwork, he bailed out of the room at the speed of light.

(Oh, he must’ve been awake. He must have. Mark wakes to the sound of a twig breaking from miles away. To the change in the air current of the room. To the sound of Renjun’s thought rattling within his brain.

He was awake, Renjun was sure of it. Mark only pretended to be asleep because he was being kind.)

Renjun reached his room after trudging through what felt like an endless corridor from hell. The scratchy dust covering felt comfortingly plush against his tired cheek, and his fractured hip bone sunk into the faulty springs of his bed like an anvil dropped into a pool of water.

He spent the rest of the night like that. Lying face down on the bed, feet dangling over the sunken edge.

His breath came about ragged and dry within his lungs, forcing them against his ribs so hard he thought he would suffocate. It was only then that Renjun finally admitted.

He never cried, not anymore, not since that night, because it allowed Mark to bear one less wound on his heart.

It allowed Mark to think that he’s not affected. To think that he’s sane. Guiltless. Clean.

If it’s the very least he could do, then he swore he would never fail to do it. For as long as he could bear and another day on top.

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randomfandomfamily · 4 years

Text

So, people apparently try to use Dewey as a sacrifice. A lot. I’m sure that turns out fine.

Most of the time.

Tagging @sophfandoms53, because darling you are my inspiration, and @3kkh0, because you asked me very nicely not to fuck up the adorable danger dumbass.

Being tied up wasn’t an ideal situation. By far Dewey’s least favorite part of adventuring with his family, and it happened more often than he’d like. If he was tied up, he couldn’t run around and search for booby traps or bust a move whenever the team was in need of a victory dance.

It’s not that being tied up made him feel helpless or anything. He just liked being able to move. If he was tied up then he couldn’t move, and moving was required for running. Escaping. He really needed to be escaping right about now.

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He forced himself to take a breath and clear his head. Everyone else would be here soon and voila! Rescue for Dewford Duck!

… again.

He made another attempt at wriggling out of the ropes, but to no avail. Sometimes it worked, particularly newer religions who hadn’t had much experience, but this was an ancient tribe. Needless to say, they were pretty good at tying knots.

Giving up on trying to get out of the ropes, he stood up and started looking for a way out of the… pit… cage? It was a hole in the ground with a bunch of branches woven together to keep him in. He wasn’t sure why they bothered with the branch thing. After a few failed attempts it became pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to climb out.

“Ugh,” Dewey groaned as he leaned against the dirt wall. “What do these guys even want?”

Huey and Uncle Scrooge weren’t there to answer his question, so he tried to remember what they had said in the plane on the way there. It was a tribe–a really old one–that believed in some all-powerful god. Classic ancient tribe stuff.

Whether or not the god was real was up for debate. Dewey had met a couple of gods before, so it wasn’t impossible. But the only reason this tribe believed in this stupid god was because they managed to get their hands on some magic spear a really long time ago.

According to Uncle Scrooge, this thing couldn’t miss. No matter how you threw the spear, it would nail the target every time. So now they were looking for the spear because… adventure. Also, super cool weapon.

Huey and Webby had talked the whole way there about rituals of the tribe and how their hierarchy worked, but Dewey hadn’t been paying attention. He heard god and spear and pretty much checked out of the conversation.

He was mostly just excited about the adventure part of the whole ordeal.

A rustling made him glance back up. A pair of painted masks removed the woven branches and stared down at him.

Considerably less excited at this point.

“So!” Dewey said nonchalantly. “Do I get to leave the hole, or-” He was interrupted by one of the tribe members grabbing him by the ropes secured around his torso. “Hey! Ow! Easy with the merchandise, guys.”

Well, at least he was out of the hole now. The sun was dangerously close to completely disappearing behind the horizon, and torches were being lit up around the tribe’s village.

He still wasn’t worried, though. Even if it was getting kinda dark. It would be harder to locate the tribe, sure, but come on. This was his family, all experienced adventurers. They’d still be able to find him, easy.

“You know you’re in big trouble as soon as my family shows up, right?” Dewey asked. He was ignored and led towards the middle of the tribe’s village. “My friend Webby could take you guys, no problem. And my Uncle Donald? Oh hoooo, buddy, he’ll tear this place apart.”

More tribe members started emerging from the primitive huts. There were a lot more of them than he thought. But it would be nothing for his family of adventurers. Plus! Launchpad had even joined them for this one, so they were even more prepared.

He glanced around for any sign of his family. Nothing so far, but that wasn’t so unusual. The point of rescue varied from adventure to adventure. Some days busting him out of the cage, other times a dramatic save from the altar.

Personally, he wasn’t a fan of that second option. Not that he didn’t trust his family to save him, it was just a little more nerve-wracking. Not scary, of course. He wasn’t scared of these people and their magic spear. He was Dewey Duck. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

Dewey spotted a small group of tribe members with drums.”Oh! You guys have music set up for the occasion? You really know how to have a good time.” One burly tribesman glared down at him. Dewey brushed off how uneasy he felt. “What kind of sacrifice is this, anyway? No, wait, let me guess. You’re going to… stab me with the magic spear?”

They didn’t answer, but a chant had started to rise, low voices muttering nonsense. Dewey hated the chanting. It was so unsettling.

Too unsettling. Time to distract himself. “You know, stabbing has got to be my favorite kind of sacrifice. Simple, yet effective. Less is more, know what I’m saying?”

He was bad at this. It was easy to talk to people that liked him, but it was hard to talk himself out of trouble. That’s what Louie was good at. Louie knew how people acted, what to say get people on his side, or at least get them to not kill him.

But Dewey didn’t understand people like that. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t have the skills to get himself out of the situation like Webby. And he certainly didn’t have Huey’s resourcefulness, either.

Maybe that’s why he was getting taken all the time. It was just so glaringly obvious that he’d be the easiest target.

Dewey clenched his fists at his sides. Not now. He could re-evaluate his worth later. After he was back at the mansion. And tomorrow he could pretend he got a full night’s sleep, when he actually just spent hours staring out his window and counting stars.

He spotted the spear. Some guy with a big leafy-looking crown was holding it. Definitely the leader, but not the sacrifice guy. Huey called them priests, Louie called them cultists, but Dewey didn’t really care what they were called, he just wished they’d stop trying to use him in sacrifices.

Though, he supposed it was better him than some other rando they found in the woods. He had people that would look for him. And find him. Hopefully soon.

“Okay, so the big guy over there has the spear,” Dewey said. He was trying to stall, but it wasn’t really working. “But he’s kinda standing all the way over there with the spear, so how’s this sacrifice going to…” He watched the guy in the crown pass the spear over to a guy in an ornate cape. Also made of leaves, somehow. “Never mind. I guess that’s how it’s going to work.”

There wasn’t a traditional altar, just a simple wooden post in the middle of the platform. It made sense, actually. Most sacrifices were done with a knife, but with a spear? That wouldn’t really work laying down.

Dewey shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to be complimenting the tribe on their practical methods of sacrifice, he needed to think. He’d run this course so many times, way more times than he should have, he should be able to think this through.

First thing, getting untied. The light from the torches caught something on the ground in front of him. Discarded spearhead. It was either from someone’s broken weapon or one that just never got attached to anything, but whatever the case, it was good news for him.

All he had to do was grab it. Feigning the trip was easy enough for an actor as brilliant as he was, but he nearly missed the narrow window of opportunity to snatch the spearhead off the ground before the two tribespeople leading him towards his doom quickly yanked him back to his feet.

“Sorry guys,” Dewey said easily, holding the sharp stone tightly in his hand. “Lost my balance for a sec there.” The stone was digging into his hand, but he couldn’t afford to loosen his grip in case someone saw it.

He scanned the trees while painted masks started securing him to there post. Where was everybody? They were usually here by now. It was starting to look like he was gonna have to get out of this one himself. Which was fine, obviously, he’d done that before.

There was a moment of panic when they were tying his hands behind him that he thought someone saw the stone. To his relief, they backed off the platform without giving him a second glance. As soon as they left to join the rest of the chanters, he set to work trying to get the ropes off.

It always looked easier in the movies. The movies didn’t show how bad the rope chafed your skin when you worked the stone back and forth. And they didn’t show how much the rock slipped because you can’t see what you’re doing, either.

The chanting was starting to get louder. This was bad. Not bad enough for him to start panicking, because he never ever panicked, but it was still kinda bad.

“You guys are seriously gonna regret this,” Dewey warned. “My family is out looking for me. They’re about to find me, I guarantee it.” His gaze darted to the treeline. Still no sign of anyone.

If it was just Uncle Scrooge, Webby, and his brothers like it used to be, he’d assume they were trying to ambush the tribe. But Uncle Donald, his mother, and Launchpad were on this mission. And no offense to any of them, he loved them dearly, but stealth wasn’t their strong suit.

So if he couldn’t hear Uncle Donald yelling or Launchpad crashing through the trees, that meant they weren’t here. And if they weren’t here…

Bad. This was actually bad. He tried to think of something to say, literally anything, but the words weren’t coming out any more. The only thing he could do was reassure himself that his family was going to be there soon. They always were.

Unless they weren’t.

The priest-cult-whatever-he-was held up the spear. Under normal circumstances, Dewey could count on the darkening sky and flickering firelight to obscure their vision enough to maybe miss. But this was a spear that couldn’t miss.

Baaaaaaaaad. Bad bad bad. Really bad.

The arm holding the spear pulled back to throw just as Dewey heard the ropes finally snap. He shook his hands free and ducked just as the spear flew over his head.

He couldn’t hear much over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he was pretty sure the chanting was turning into angry shouting. And if they were gonna be angry anyway, then he might as well take their special spear while he made his escape, right?

The seconds it took to pull the magic spear out of the post cost him, but he was sure Uncle Scrooge would be happy he managed to grab it. The normal spear that grazed his left arm wasn’t a big deal. Angry people with spears were all part of adventuring and definitely manageable.

There wasn’t much left to do but run. “So long, crazy sacrifice people!” He called as he jumped off the platform. “I’m off to- whoa!” He realized his mistake the instant he hit the ground. The spear wasn’t going to let up until it hit the target, and it hadn’t hit him yet.

Why didn’t he leave it in the stupid post?

It was a struggle to run and stop the spear he was holding from impaling him. He wasn’t sure how to make it stop, but stumbling earned him another spear that he didn’t quite dodge in time. He was only vaguely aware that his right shoulder was hit, but he was sure he’d feel the sting as soon as the adrenaline wore off, which wouldn’t be any time soon considering he was getting chased.

“Stop. Stop it.” He hid behind a tree and pushed the spear away from himself. “Ah, if Webby were here, she’d know how to fix this.” Taking the spear with both hands, he forced the tip of the spear to face the ground. “Alright, think.

“You’re Dewey Duck, the world’s greatest eleven year old adventurer. You can figure this out.” The sound angry shouts grew closer at an alarming rate. “Okay, I can figure this out in a minute.” He took off running again, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Talking was usually how he coped with stress. He’d pretty much been talking since he got separated from his family. That probably wasn’t a good idea at the moment, but he couldn’t help muttering to himself anyway. It was hardly a whisper, really, but it kept his fear to reasonable levels.

“Fear?” He muttered as he shoved aside the underbrush in his way. “Since when do I deal with fear? I don’t do fear. I am not afraid.” The light from a torch barely registered before the painted face appeared. Dewey scrambled to back up and keep running. “Not that way!”

Still not afraid. Absolutely not afraid. Would his Uncle Scrooge be afraid? No way! So he just had to concentrate on not getting stabbed by this stupid magic spear.

Though, in hindsight, maybe he should’ve concentrated on running, too. It didn’t occur to him that running blindly through the woods in the dark wasn’t a good idea until he was already rolling down the hill.

Good news, he covered a lot of ground with how quickly he descended the slope. Bad news, there were a lot more things hurting now. He was pretty sure his back had hit a rock on the way down, which very effectively knocked the wind out of him. Not to mention he was about seventy-six percent sure his leg was gonna have a nasty bruise and-

He was forgetting something.

His blurry vision cleared up just in time to see the spear he dropped speeding towards him from above. He rolled to his left to dodge it. And, thanks to his incredible adventuring skills, he did dodge it. Mostly. He mostly dodged it. And mostly dodging it was totally fine. If you got mostly correct answers on a test, you still got a good grade.

Bright side. He needed a bright side to this.

“Come on, get up,” Dewey scolded himself. “Spear hit me in the side, and that’s not great. Bright side. It’s not stuck in my side, it’s stuck in the ground.” He used the spear to stand himself back up. “And bonus, if it hit me, then its job is done. Which means I can safely carry it back to… um…”

Where was he again? He was pretty sure he was headed back in the right direction when he first started running, but now…

“Great,” Dewey said bitterly. “Okay, wait, this is still fine. Everyone’s probably out looking for me still. I’m bound to run into someone eventually. I just have to keep walking.” Distant shouts made him shudder. “Never mind. I’m running.”

He took about two steps and nearly fell again. He had to plant the spear in the ground to keep himself from falling over. “Never mind again. Running is not happening.” Walking was still a pain, but considerably easier than full-on running.

If Huey were here he’d probably say something smart. Like how Dewey should probably take a piece of cloth to try and stop the bleeding in his side.

Fortunately, his shirt was already ripped from the spear. He paused to take off his short-sleeved overshirt and tore it up so that it could tie around his torso. It probably wasn’t the best patch job, but it’d work until he found the others.

Unfortunately, his family was a little harder to find than he thought they’d be. He considered shouting to see if anyone could hear him, but given the tribe of people he had robbed of a sacrifice and a magic spear, yelling seemed like a bad idea.

Not that they wouldn’t catch up to him eventually anyway. His progress was getting slower by the second. They’d figure out where he was sooner or later and-

That was a torch.

Dewey nearly tripped for what seemed like the hundredth time and stood behind the truck of a tree. He rubbed at his eyes furiously, trying to force back the tears that sprang into his eyes after he tripped. Much like everything else that was happening to him right now, crying would be bad.

The light swung in his direction. If Dewey were allowed to curse, he would have. Because really, how stupid did you have to be to trip while you were being chased? This was, like, the bajillionth time.

Probably the last time too.

A very irrational part of his brain forced him to close his eyes, like the light would disappear if he couldn’t see it. The logic was every bit as sound as hiding under his covers, convinced that the hoodie Louie left on the chair was a monster, but logic wasn’t exactly his area of expertise.

He could hear someone walking close by. If his mother and Uncle Donald were here, they would tell him to be brave or something. That was usually so easy for him. So why did it feel like his throat was starting to close up?

Dewey slid down the truck of the tree and sat on the ground. He was scared. It felt ridiculous and stupid, but his side hurt and it was dark and he couldn’t find his family and he was scared.

The sound of footsteps were closer now. Like, really close. Way too close. Dewey tightened his grip on the spear. Usually he would love an excuse to wield a magic weapon, but not tonight.

The tears he had been trying so desperately to hold back started to slip out. He couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to.

He could hear whoever was holding the torch just on the other side of the tree. Clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any noise from coming out, Dewey waited for the footsteps to pass.

By some miracle, they actually did pass. They walked right by him. Dewey was sure they’d hear his heartbeat, and he nearly collapsed in relief when the footsteps receded, but he forced himself to stand up.

And then he ran. He didn’t care if his side hurt or not, he wanted to find his family. He wanted to give Uncle Scrooge this stupid spear and never look at it ever again.

A low rumbling caught his attention. “The plane,” Dewey said breathlessly. He changed directions and ran towards the sound. Normally he’d try for a grand entrance, but he was way too relieved to care.

Now, Launchpad had been told to stay with the plane while the others looked for Dewey. He hadn’t expected to be the one that saw Dewey first. But the duck that stumbled into view was undoubtedly his best friend and boy was it good to see him.

“Dewey!” Launchpad jumped up and waved enthusiastically. “There you are! I haven’t seen you in forever!” He frowned as he noticed Dewey looked a little less-than-fantastic. “You don’t look so good.”

The younger duck laughed weakly. “Trust me, I’m doing much better now.” He was using a spear as a walking stick. When did Dewey get a spear? Launchpad didn’t remember him having a spear before. “Where is everyone else?”

“Looking for you,” Launchpad answered. “And a magic spear that never misses. I’m here with the plane in case we have to make a quick… getaway.” He smiled brightly. “Oh hey! You’ve got the magic spear! Awesome! Mr. McD will- oh geez.” Launchpad reached out and steadied Dewey, who was right on the verge of falling over. “You really don’t look so good.”

Dewey clung to the sleeve of Launchpad’s jacket with his free hand. “I’m fine,” he whispered in a quivering voice, “I just wanna go home.”

Launchpad immediately scooped him up. It wasn’t very hard, Dewey was light and very small. It still made him uneasy to feel Dewey curl into him like he was scared to look anywhere. He relaxed a slight bit once they were in the plane, but not much.

Deciding the spear wasn’t important at the moment, Launchpad took it and tossed it somewhere. Mr. McD would probably take care of it whenever he got back. “Wait,” Dewey protested, “The spear-”

“I don’t think you need a spear,” Launchpad put Dewey down in the pilot’s seat, “I think you need to sit there for a minute.”

Launchpad could admit that he wasn’t very good at adventuring. Crashing? Yes. Piloting? Debatable. But one thing he did know how to do was use a first aid kit. When you ran into things as much as he did, you learned to patch yourself up.

Dewey cleared his throat when he saw Launchpad pull out the red box. “Launchpad, you really don’t have to-”

“I think I kinda do actually.” Launchpad sat in the co-pilot’s seat and opened the first aid kit. “What happened out there anyway? You look like you got hit by… something.”

“Oh, you know, just normal adventure stuff.” Dewey held out his left arm when Launchpad motioned for it. “Crazy people in the woods wanted a sacrifice and I was the easiest target.”

Launchpad hummed thoughtfully while he worked. “Did you escape on your own?”

“Yeah, nobody had found me yet.” Dewey shrugged. “Que the chase scene, blah blah blah, I feel down a hill and now I’m here.”

“How’d you get the spear if they were all chasing you?”

Dewey hesitated. “They may have… you know, thrown it. At me.”

Launchpad laughed as he finished bandaging Dewey’s arm. “Wow! And Mr. McD said that the spear never missed. Lucky you, huh?”

“It didn’t miss, Launchpad.” Dewey lifted the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. “Huey would probably have a heart attack if he saw this, but it was dark and I don’t really know how-” He winced as he untied the blue cloth around his torso. “Anyway, they threw the spear at me but I ducked and it ended up sticking in a wooden post.

“And I probably should’ve left it there,” Dewey said as he let the shredded remnants of his shirt fall to the floor. “But I wasn’t really thinking, so I pulled it out. I fell down a hill and uh… well, the spear never misses, right?”

Launchpad rummaged through the first aid kit. “I don’t think Huey’s the only one who’s going to have a heart attack.”

Dewey sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you should have seen your mom. She’s never seen one of you guys be used as a sacrifice before.” Launchpad shook his head. “I bet she’s still freaking out. And Donald too. And Mr. McD and Webby and your brothers and…” He noticed Dewey’s eyes starting to water. “This is… not helping, is it?”

“Reminding me that everyone was worried because I’m useless and can’t take care of myself?” Dewey snapped. “Yeah, no, not helping.” He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “I-I’m sorry, Launchpad, I didn’t mean to get mad.”

“S’okay,” Launchpad said as he bandaged Dewey’s side. “And I don’t think y-” He was interrupted by a pained shout. “Are you-”

Dewey waved him off. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine, it… it just hurts.”

“Almost done,” Launchpad promised. Nothing was deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he could do that. Still, it was pretty bad. “As I was saying: I don’t think you’re useless.”

Dewey tentatively touched the bandages over his injured side. “You’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” Launchpad swatted Dewey’s hand away from the new bandage. “And nobody else thinks it either.”

“Launchpad, you can’t know what other people think.”

He shrugged and set to work on Dewey’s shoulder. “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Dewey’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

“And now we’re even.” Launchpad closed up the first aid kit and stood to put it back.

“That isn’t how it works,” Dewey said.

“Why not?” Launchpad asked as he tucked the small box away. “You’re always doing the brave stuff. Bein’ all cool and dangerous. That’s important for adventuring.”

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Everyone does the dangerous stuff. Even Uncle Donald!” He leaned back in the pilot’s seat. “I’m just doing it dumber, and I get into more trouble than I should. I’m not as smart as Huey, Louie, and Webby.”

Launchpad sat back down. “That’s not-”

“Don’t say it’s not true,” Dewey interrupted. “Look at me!” He threw out his arms angrily. “Does this look like a smart adventurer to you?”

“What? Just because you got hurt?” Launchpad asked. “You think Mr. McD got out of every adventure without a scratch? That guy’s almost died more times than I can count, and I haven’t even been working with him for that long.”

Dewey let his arms fall. “I hear what you’re saying, but it… I just-” He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I still feel like crap.”

“I think it’s okay to feel like crap sometimes,” Launchpad said. “If it makes you feel any better, you just brought back a spear that Mr. McD has been trying to track down for years. I’m only here because he thought he might need the extra muscle, but you did it all by yourself.”

“I mean…” Dewey peered between his hands at the spear Launchpad had tossed aside. “I… yeah. I did do that.” The barest trace of a smile appeared. “Guess that was pretty cool, huh?”

“Definitely cool,” Launchpad agreed. “And you can tell your brothers how cool you are when they get back.”

Dewey nodded slowly. “That is kind of my thing, isn’t it? Being all cool and dangerous and stuff.” He looked up at Launchpad. “Thanks.”

Launchpad reached over and ruffled Dewey’s hair. “That’s what friends are for. Friends are also for hugs. Do you want a hug?” Dewey nodded, and Launchpad scooped him up for the second time that day.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it was long enough for Dewey to finally–finally–stop trembling like a leaf in a storm. Even then, neither party seemed keen on letting go.

It wasn’t until after Dewey had fallen asleep that Launchpad remembered that the radio in the plane was connected to the walkie-talkies everyone else was carrying. He wished he had remembered it sooner, but better late than never.

“Launchpad to uh… everyone. Can you guys hear me?”

“Aye, we can hear ye. What’re you doin’ on th’ line?”

“Hi Launchpad!”

“Loud and clear on our end.”

“Dewey made it back to the plane,” he told them. “And he got the spear, too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Uncle Donald, Launchpad found Dewey!”

“Uuuugh, we did all this work for nothing.”

“We’re on our way back, lad. Don’t let that nephew of mine go runnin’ off again.”

Launchpad glanced down at Dewey. “Well, he’s actually asleep, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Asleep? Why is he asleep?”

“Long day,” Launchpad said. “I’ll explain once everyone gets back.”

#look #i refuse to believe the boys escape every adventure #without so much as a scratch #sometimes things suck #and sometimes it sucks a little more than it should #this is the reason i exist #A N G S T #ducktales 2017

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