#it’s cool to catch up on theories I missed when I left the fandom

[tender-emotional-music]

Delving into the Creeler theories is so interesting. Seeing a few accounts point out the casting alone is very 🤔🤔 Carmen Cuba is a genius honestly. I feel like there’s a lot to say about the thematic parallels between the families and Mike/Nancy/Karen’s battle with normalcy. Anyway, this is cool to get into so imma keep looking into the theories, and @henrysglock talks a lot about this theory if u want to, too

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 28

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 28 - Haunted

Their guide had stopped just before reaching the base of the mountain and refused to go any further. She gave the coordinates while looking fearfully over Mando's shoulder at the silent forest, and as soon as they knew where to go, she’d turned on her heels and jogged back towards the camp.

As they stepped down from the mountain, what little wildlife had vanished and left the air charged with an eerie thunderous silence. Sinead looked up at the sun glinting through the thick canopy. The path their guide had given led around the village, walking along game trails that wound through the forest, sometimes doubling back on itself until eventually turning towards the center of the woods.

"What do you think it is?" Sinead asked, stepping around a root that had burst out of the ground.

"Don't know."

"C'mon! You don't have any theories at all?"

Mando shrugged. "Not spirits."

"Thank you. That only leaves everything else."

"You really think it's ghosts?" His skepticism came clearly through the voice modulator.

"I don't know what I think it is, but it's not impossible. If there's one thing I've learned is that there are forces beyond me and you. Or do you have a logical explanation for the kid's hand thing?" She wiggled her hand at him and let the silence stretch for a moment. "Didn't think so."

"Could be something in the water."

"I don't think it is." Because then why did she feel like someone was watching them back in the village?

The same purple flowers Sinead had seen shooting up between the undergrowth covered the ground in some spaces, crowding under the trees that seemed to grow taller and taller until they reached the sky. The sweet smell of decaying wood and decomposing leaves filled her nose.

It wasn't until they reached a small clearing and stopped for a break that Sinead realized how cold it had gotten; the sweat on the back of her neck had cooled, and she pulled her jacket back on. High above, the treetops seemed to shift and change, the leaves turning to catch the sunlight regardless of the lack of wind, and the forest floor was left in shadows. They walked on as more flowers grew up around the trees. It took them passing through the same clearing three times before they stopped.

"Uh, Mando?"

"I know. We're walking in circles."

Above, the treetops rustled in a faint breeze.

"I thought you had the coordinates." Something sour and scared sat at the back of Sinead's mouth, forcing the words out before she had a chance to stop. "How can we get lost when you have the coordinates?"

Mando glared at her, and she could feel the heat through his helmet. "Something is messing with the signal. We should've been there by now, but it's like ..."

"Like what?"

He rolled his shoulders and looked away. "Nevermind. We need to find out where we are. Can you climb?"

Her eyes fell on the nearest tree. The branches looked sturdy enough. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Find out where the sun is compared to us. If we can't find a way forward, we need to go back. I don't want to be out here when the sun sets."

"Copy that." Suddenly, with the prospect of a task that didn't include mindlessly walking, her mind felt clearer. "Just make sure to catch me if I fall."

"I will."

She glanced at him for half a second before hauling herself up on the lowest branch. It let out a creak but held her weight, and she carefully made her way up the coarse trunk. The branches were sticky with sap, and now and again there was a crackling noise that made her pause and wait with bated breath. She didn't look down. She slowed the further up she got as the branches became thinner. A faint wind rustled the leaves, and slivers of sunlight dabbled across her face. Then she broke through the top layer and her breath caught in her throat.

The forest blanketed the valley like a vast rolling sea bathed in buttery light from the setting sun. Streaks of red and pink tinted the sky, but a nagging thought kept her from being taken entirely by the view.

It was too early for the sun to be setting. How long had they been gone?

She looked down, glimpsing Mando between the leaves, but he was too far away to hear her, and even if he wasn't, it felt wrong to break the silence of the forest. Carefully, she shifted her weight and started the climb back down. The last glimpse of the valley slipped away, and she concentrated on making it down in one piece. As she descended so did the darkness.

Mando waited until she had both feet firmly on the ground before asking. "So?"

"The sun is setting." She brushed her sap-sticky hands on her thighs.

"That's not possible. We've only been walking for a couple of hours."

"I know, but that's what I saw. We should go back to the villagers, try again tomorrow." Now she was back on the ground, she noticed the gloom that had fallen and how the shadows grew darker. "If the sun's this way, we need to go this way." She pointed to the left of Mando. "We probably won't make it back before dark."

Mando made a noise and glanced around at the quiet trees. "You sure it's the right way?"

"Yeah." As she said it, a tiny seed of doubt grew in her mind and sprouted into dread once they started walking. The trees seemed to grow even taller and the air felt damp, making her clothes feel cold against her skin. Moss hung in thick carpets from dead branches. Something moved out of the corner of her eye, but there was nothing when she turned, only flower buds emerging from the deep shadows. Slowly, one of them started to open.

There was a sickly sweet smell on the wind.

Mando stopped before a fallen tree, the trunk almost as wide as Sinead was tall, and turned, hand on the grip of his blaster. "This isn't right."

"I don't know what happened, I was so sure ..." Her eyes darted round for any movement between the trees. More flowers had opened, revealing long purple petals. She jammed a thumb into the crook of her elbow until her fingers twitched and took a deep breath to clear her muddled mind.

"We need to find somewhere safe for the night." Mando's voice was tight. "We'll keep going tomorrow until we get to the mountains, then we can find the way ... wait, do you hear that?"

Sinead turned her head, but the forest was as eerily silent as it had always been. "I don't—"

With a crash, an animal burst through the undergrowth, a blur of legs and gnashing teeth, matted fur that hung in knots down its side. Its eyes were crazed, rooting Sinead to the ground.

Something slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs

The beast opened its mouth and released a blood-curdling scream that shook the silent forest. It thrashed, smashing against a tree until leaves rained down, then bolted in the opposite direction of where it had come from.

Sinead couldn't breathe. She stared wide-eyed at where the beast had appeared, waiting for an eternity with Mando crouched over her. The hand holding his blaster shook imperceptibly.

Slowly he got up and helped Sinead to her feet. The world was still spinning.

"What was that?" It came out in a croak.

Mando didn't take his eyes off the path of destruction the beast had left; broken branches and torn up earth in the direction they were heading. "I don't know."

"It was-" she swallowed hard—" it was crazed with ... with something. Fear, maybe, or hunger?"

Mando moved to where the creature had broken through and peered into the gloom. "I don't think it was being chased."

"Not by anything we can see." She could taste it again, that tangy, sweet taste on the tip of her tongue, a burning sensation at the back of her throat. She coughed. "Konna was right. We should never have come here." Her skin had been stripped away, exposing her nerves to the world and every single sound or change made her heart speed up until she felt it in her fingertips.

"It can't be far now," Mando said. "If we keep walking we're bound to hit the other side." He gestured in the direction the creature had appeared. "Konna said the things couldn't reach up on the mountain."

"Are you crazy? Never go in the direction of-of whatever that was!" It was getting harder to breathe. 

Mando rounded on her. "If we start changing course that'll just get us more lost than we already are. There's nothing out there." But even as he said it, Sinead's skin prickled as unseen eyes watched from every shadow. "Stick close to me." He started walking, and for one heart-stopping moment, she was frozen to the ground in fear before running to follow him as closely as she could without stepping on his heels.

It was a struggle to breathe, like the air was too thin. The ground grew soggy as if they had wandered into a hidden marsh that threatened to drag her down if she stopped for even a moment. It was all so wrong! Her vision blurred as tendrils of mist unfurled from behind the trees, reaching out to grab her.

Then she heard it: a howl on the wind that waned and waxed until it reached a crescendo, a single word that made her stop in her tracks.

Sinead!

She recognized the voice who was calling.

"Kyen?" She felt her lips move, but the sound was a warbled echo. There was only Kyen calling her name.

Whatever force holding her in place disappeared, and she stumbled towards the sound. The forest shifted in front of her eyes, trees moving out of her way even though she felt the sting of invisible branches rip her hair and slap her across the face. All thoughts of Mando or getting to safety had been replaced by a single repeating chant: I need to find him, I need to find him, I need to—

The ground disappeared under her feet, world turning into a jumble of shadowy trees and mist as she tumbled down, down, down, ending up with her face pressed into soft and sweet-smelling moss.

As she lay there, breathing through nausea and pain, more voices joined Kyen's call, strange and hollow as if she was hearing them through a damaged comlink, getting louder until they filled the air, drowning out the sound of Sinead's own labored breathing.

She lifted her head and mist filled her eyes, mouth, ears until she choked. Then, scrabbling to her knees, she lifted herself out of the mist that blanketed the hollow. It felt sticky like it was clinging to her even as she got to her feet.

The purple flowers had completely overtaken the hollow, and they had opened in the dusk, revealing wide purple petals with black veins that twisted and writhed in a dizzying pattern.

Her mouth was dry. Why was her mouth dry when everything else was sticky and wrong?

In the haze of the mist, the trees pulsed. The bark changed, swirling across the surface until a thousand eyes stared down at her as she took a shaky step and nearly crumpled to the ground; hot blood ran down her leg from a jagged gash. How did that happen? There was no pain, only a dull pressure that made her leg shake when she put weight on it.

A path opened up before her. With every step, the voices became louder. 

Then she saw them.

Translucent shapes appeared between the trees, and a tremor ran through her body. She stumbled and hit the ground. The beings, the Lost reached out to her, mouth hanging slack-jawed while the howl rose to a scream that tore through Sinead's head and burned down her throat, into her chest until she couldn't breathe.

She tried to get up, but the ground had gone soft, trapping her. The apparitions moved closer, and she trashed against the force that held her down. A dull light glinted in their eyes.

Her hand closed around something burning hot, arm spasming by its own accord. The whip cut through the murk. The specters recoiled long enough for her to get to her feet.

"Back! Stay back!" The scream spilled from her lips like burning blood. She clutched the whip to her chest with a shaking hand.

Sinead!

The sound had been so close. Kyen was close!

She ran, lungs burning too fiercely for her to call out. The Lost followed, a cold presence that grabbed at her hair and tried to pull her back. The forest changed all around her, pulsing and twisting. Unblinking eyes stared at her from the shadows.

Sinead!

Her legs burned, but the Lost closed in around her no matter how fast she ran. A scream tore through her throat, but the sound came out dull and faded.

Suddenly the trees parted, and she found him.

Kyen stood bathed in shadow and mist, but she would have known him anywhere; dark curly hair framed a pale face, freckles dusting his cheeks in a familiar pattern that she could pick out in her sleep. He wore the palace garb just like the last time she saw him. The dark red fabric rustled in an invisible wind.

"K ...Kyen?" she reached out to him.

At the sound of her voice, he moved. Sudden icy realization made her heart seize to a halt.

This was wrong. It was all so wrong.

Kyen moved like a puppet on a string. Like a dead man.

She tried to back away, but the Lost had pinned her in. Kyen's hands closed around her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. When had she fallen? His hands were so cold. This close, his skin was grey and smooth as marble. Eyes stared at her without seeing.

"No! NO!" She trashed against him, placing both hands on his chest to push away, but his grip was like a vice, and he was so, so cold.

"Kyen! Kyen, come back! I promise I'll find you!" the world spun, and Sinead fought her body to keep standing. "I-I ..." everything grew dark except Kyen's glowing, dead eyes ... "promise .."

Then everything went black.

…

Din swallowed hard and wet his lips. There was something wrong besides the obvious sudden nightfall, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The forest, despite the concerning lack of wildlife, felt alive. His instincts screamed at him to get out, find shelter and regroup, but the more he walked, the deeper the forest seemed to get. And then there was Sinead ...

He glanced back to where she was walking behind him, head swiveling like she was listening to something far away, mouth moving in a silent stream of words. Was she praying? She had never mentioned believing in anything. Then again, there were a lot of things she didn't mention. He didn't really know her.

There was the smell again! It coated his tongue and thoughts and sent his brain into a dizzying spin; every stray thought threatened to pull him in the wrong direction. A pillar of moonlight shooting down through the canopy, an old bird-nest, long abandoned, the sound of Sinead walking right behind him. He activated the atmospheric processor in his helmet, letting the filter clean the worst of the smell out.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to break the skin, and the pain and taste of blood lifted the mist in his mind just long enough for him to notice the actual mist gathering around the tree roots. It moved like water across the ground and seemed to cling to his leg when it finally reached him. The cold sent a shock through his system.

The flowers had opened during their walk, and bursts of purple covered the ground, peeking up from the mist.

"You seen anything like this?" He turned around to face Sinead, and his heart shuddered in his chest.

She was gone.

Din's lungs seized as he tried to breathe in. The mist swirled slowly where she should have been. "Sinead?" his voice echoed between the trees until it petered out into nothing. "Sinead!"

He started running back the way they'd come, but it felt like he wasn't moving even as the trees rushed past him. Time and space stood still while the forest moved. His lungs burned with fetid air despite the atmospheric processor.

Finally reason broke through the panic, and he slowed to a halt. Running blindly through the forest wouldn't help. He had to think, but his mind wouldn't cooperate. Something was doing this, something that had also gotten to Sinead.

He looked around the shadowy forest at the mist that swirled between the trees. The way it moved didn't look natural. He reached out and watched as strange particles landed on his gloved hand, like pollen. Realization hit and something hard and icy dropped into the pit of his stomach.

A sudden scream broke the silence of the forest, and Din ran. Black spots appeared at the edge of his vision.

Outside his helmet, the mist swirled. He forced himself to breathe evenly, blood pounding in his ears drowning out everything else. The trees shifted and grew closer.

His lungs were burning.

Finally, he found her.

"Sinead?"

She stood in the middle of a small clearing, swaying back and forth like a pendulum, and she started at the sound of his voice, turning around so fast she nearly lost her balance. Clumps of dirt were stuck in her hair, and he could see the whites of her eyes. His breath caught when his eyes fell on the whip clutched in her hand. It glinted in the moonlight. Her thumb hovered over the button.

"Sinead …" It came out as a croak. He held his hands, palms up like he was approaching a wild animal. "Put down the whip, okay? You're safe." He took a careful step toward her. She flinched. "Listen to me. There's something in the air. This isn't real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

Sinead's darting eyes finally landed on him, and her face morphed into a sudden, blood-curdling terror that made Din's muscles tense as if ready for a fight.

The whip fell from her hands, and she stumbled back. Din moved without a second thought, crossed the space between them, and grabbed her by the arm, keeping her upright. All her strength had gone out of her, and she shivered.

"No! No!" she shrieked, beating her fists against his chest plate, the words running together into an incomprehensible scream.

"Calm down! I got you …" He needed to get her out of there before it was too late.

"I … I'm—"

Then she folded up with a strangled gasp.

"No!" He couldn't breathe. Sinead hung limply in his arms. He shook her, and her head lolled from side to side. "Sinead! C'mon…" but her shallow breaths were the only sign of life.

He had to get out of there.

He lifted her with a grunt, throwing her over his shoulder. Something glinted by his feet. The whip was lying on the ground nearly obscured by the thick mist. He grabbed it and hooked it on his belt.

With the weight of Sinead literally resting on his shoulder, Din set off running. He didn't care where he was going as long as Sinead got out of there. The mist reached out to grab at him.

Using the dim moonlight, he navigated the forest. He didn't have time to stop and take out the light. He didn't have time for anything. Every second, Sinead was exposed to more of whatever was in the air. She hung limply across his shoulder, completely lifeless. If only she spoke, made some noise to reassure him that she was alright, was going to be alright, the nauseating, burning feeling in his chest would lessen and he could breathe again.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, making them sting. His whole body was on fire and freezing at the same time.

And then, the ground started to rise. Din scrambled up the slope, keeping one arm wrapped around Sinead's thighs and the other grappling for anything to help him keep momentum. Dead leaves slid beneath his feet, and he let out a frustrated grunt.

The terrain evened out a little, and the trees became sparse enough that the stars were visible between the leaves. Silver moonlight dappled the ground, and Din's knees nearly buckled when his eyes fell on a cave set into the cliffside.

It was more hollow than a cave, but it was better than nothing; it was deep enough to provide shelter from the wind. Din could see the valley unfurling through a gap in the trees, glowing with moonlight. Konna had said that the apparitions never went up on the mountain. This had to be high enough.

He knelt on the rock floor and carefully pulled Sinead off his shoulder, laying her on the ground. Her breathing was too shallow. Fear wrapped around his chest, and he brushed some dirty strands of hair away from her face. His hands were shaking. It had to be the toxin still in his system.

Din didn't notice the discomfort from crouching on the ground for so long. He watched in the darkness as a shadow passed over her face, and she frowned, a line appearing between her brows. Unthinking, Din reached out and pressed a finger to her forehead as if he could smooth out the frown. Her lips parted and she made a sound, barely more than an exhale, and relaxed into his hand. It only took him a second to realize what he was doing and snatch his hand back, gritting his teeth in an attempt to distract himself from the flush creeping up his neck. He was too old for something like that.

Sinead’s face drew into another frown, and a shiver went through her body, making her curl in on herself. She looked so small. With slow, almost hesitant movements, he pulled off his cloak and covered the sleeping form. She made a sound, and one hand gripped the fabric and drew it closer to her chest. It felt wrong seeing her so weak and defenseless.

Leaving behind a canteen filled with water, he went out to gather wood for a fire. He couldn't just sit there and wait for her to wake up by herself. This planet's moon was large, and its silver light illuminated the ground and turned everything black and white. When he got back to the cave, he found Sinead curled up on the floor where he left her, still sleeping. Now and again, her face would twitch, eyes moving under her eyelids.

Once the fire was going at the mouth of the cave, there wasn't anything else to do, so Din leaned back against the wall and tried not to think about Sinead.

The mountain was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the faint sound of wind rustling the leaves just outside the cave. He could feel the warmth through his armor, and he cleared his throat, fighting the urge to close his eyes.

A hand landed on his thigh, and his eyes flew open; Sinead looked up at him with dark, confused eyes. "What happened?" It came out in a croak.

"You ..." For a moment, he didn't know what to say, the words jumbling together until his mind went blank. Then, finally, he swallowed around a lump in his throat. "How're you feeling?"

Her lips twitched into an approximation of a smile, and Din's chest felt tight.

"Never better." She struggled to sit up, and Din grabbed her shoulders, gently pulling her to sit against the rock wall. "Water?"

He handed her the canteen, and he fed the fire while she drank. The canteen made a hollow thud as she set it down on the hard floor. "Where are we?" Her voice was still weak, but it sounded clearer.

"Somewhere on the mountain. I had to find higher ground." He sat back against the wall when the tinder caught and the cave lit up with flickering light. "There is some sort of toxin in the air. I don't know where it's coming from, but I think it's what drove the villagers away."

"Great, so Yvinne was right. I was almost hoping it really was ghosts." Sinead pulled the cloak closer around herself, wincing as she stretched her legs out towards the fire.

"Does it hurt?"

"My chest is ... I'll be okay."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Sinead wet her lips and stared into the fire. "I remember falling down." Her brows knitted. "There was this ... thing in the air. Like mist, almost? But it didn't move like real mist."

"The toxin."

"Yeah." An unreadable emotion crossed her face. "How come you didn't get affected?"

"My helmet. The atmospheric processor bought us enough time to get out of there.”

She yawned and leaned her head back against the wall. "You Mandalorians really do think of everything."

For some reason, her comment made his heart beat faster, and he stared intently at his right knee where the beskar flickered in the firelight.

He started when Sinead suddenly leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. There was silence for a beat, then "is this okay?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "S' fine." The fire crackled and sent a cloud of sparks into the night. It couldn't be comfortable resting against the cold beskar. "Uh, do you want me to …"

Sinead lifted her head. "Huh?"

Instead of answering, Din removed the pauldron before he had time to think it through. It made a definite clank that seemed to echo as he placed it on the ground. He tried not to move when Sinead rested her head back on his shoulder, curling her legs up and resting most of her weight against him. Was it his imagination or could he feel the heat from her through his clothes?

He was watching a mass of mushrooms growing in the cracks in the wall, sure that Sinead had fallen asleep when she spoke. "Will you tell me something?"

"What do you wanna know?" He spoke softly as if the mere sound of his voice would push her away.

"I don't really know." She shifted against him. "I just need to hear your voice. I don't... I had a nightmare ... before I woke up."

Heat pricked up his neck, and his mind was completely blank except for the acute realization that she wanted to hear his voice.

"Okay ... so how'd you get the Crest?"

"It's not a very interesting story."

She yawned. "Tell me anyway."

He did. He was halfway through the story of Sorgan and the people there when he noticed her breathing had gotten deeper and more regular and that her head felt heavier on his shoulder. "Sinead?" He whispered, but there was no answer. Her hand had slipped out from under the cloak and was lying limply in her lap, illuminated by the dying fire. Din's own hand curled into a fist and he forced himself to look away.

The night stretched out endlessly before him, and he tried to relax into his armor, eyes on the smoldering embers that were all that remained of the fire. He could feel Sinead breathe against his side, and he closed his eyes and tried to match it with his own.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[morallygreyvigilante67]

what made you leave the fandom? it's perfectly fair, but you keep mentioning that you've come back so i'm a little curious

No worries, I'd be curious too.

I'm not entirely sure when exactly I left the fandom to begin with, because I know I was still clinging onto it even when I stopped paying attention to new game releases but it was kind of a gradual thing.

When the teasers for FNAF 4 started coming out, I was pretty excited. There were still so many mysteries left to solve and, while I couldn't tell exactly what the fourth game was going to show us, I had a good feeling about it.

The actual trailer was dropped & the game was described as "the final chapter" which only increased that hype. I was kinda sad in a way cause I loved this franchise so much and, at the time, I wasn't ready for it to end but it had to at some point y'know?

Anyway the game itself was perfectly fine and, while not all the mysteries/plot points had been neatly rounded up, it felt like a pretty good note to end things on. Except it didn't...

Because FNaF World was announced, which is when my interest started to wane.

Don't get me wrong, when that "thank you" image Scott uploaded to his site started to change and the animatronics started to be replaced by cutesy versions of themselves, I was curious. FNAF 4 was supposedly the end, but here was this new thing that was slowly being shown to us.

I hadn't been too sure what to expect at the time, whether we were getting a new game or whether it was just gonna be one last little image for us to see unravel before he moved onto something else. I don't know, it's been a while.

And then the trailer came out. I thought it was a joke at first, the tone shift was so major that there wasn't really any other explanation I could think of...at least until the game actually came out.

I gave it a chance, I really did. But I couldn't help but think that the series was starting to be milked a bit too much, it started to feel like I was dragging my feet.

Then Sister Location was announced. This game looked to be more in-line with what we'd come to expect with the series and I thought the animatronics were pretty cool in the trailer. I was excited.

Then when the game came out I just couldn't get into it, I don't know what it was, but I didn't feel that same draw towards it that I had with the others.

But, I didn't think much of it. People were already making videos about it going over all the details and theorising, so I figured I'd just watch those...except, keeping up with all the new lore fragments and theories was starting to become more tedious and less fun.

So, I got to the point where I'd think about looking up some videos only to think "I don't feel like it today" until eventually it just stopped occurring to me to look into it.

I think this was around the time when The Silver Eyes came out, which I did read and very much enjoyed, so I figured I'd just stick with the books (specifically referring to the TSE trilogy because I haven't read the others) and maybe give Sister Location another try in the future.

Except that didn't really end up happening, because by the time I first started to think about catching up on what I'd missed, a couple more games had come out and the thought of going over all that lore and all those theories was pretty daunting so I didn't.

I still periodically checked in for new fan songs, because FNAF had the best fan songs out of all the fandoms I've been in, but for the most part? I was more or less done with FNAF.

...At least until the movie came out.

I may not have really been in the fandom anymore, but I remember I was so excited when it was first announced that a movie was under production, so I figured it was only right to check it out now that it was finally happening. A nice little thing to finally close the FNAF chapter of my life with.

Though, of course, if you've been paying attention to my blog lately...you know how that turned out haha.

There's still a lot for me to catch up on, but yeah, it might have taken a couple of years but I'm back now.

[akaashisupremacy]

Moments of Courage

Summary: Osamu Miya is a difficult ex to have. When your paths cross endlessly, you try to rebuild your relationship. Will there be second chances? Or just more broken hearts?

HQ Masterlist || Multi-fandom Masterlist || Read it on A03

Osamu Miya  x reader  

“Are you leaving this party because of me?”

Osamu calls you out from the tiny hallway of your friend’s get together. After locking eyes with him, you did your best to subtly scamper towards the door.

“You don’t have to go. I can leave if it’s making you uncomfortable.” he assures.

You shake your head, “You can stay. I’m not having that much fun.”

You begin shuffling through the coat rack to look for yours. You’re desperate for anything to cut the time talking to him, talking about him. The only guaranteed way for this to stop is to leave.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asks almost rhetorically. His brows are gently raised.

“Yeah, obviously,” you retort, “I don’t want to be seen by you or with you.”

Osamu Miya is your ex. After over a year of dating, he decided to end things with you in a small cafe far off his onigiri stall.

“I’m too busy,” he claimed, “You deserve someone who could give you more time.”

You reasoned out that you didn’t mind not spending so much time together. His job was time-consuming. You understood that.

But Osamu was unsettled. You didn’t mind cheering him on from the benches waiting for him to finish up work. You liked seeing Osamu do things he was passionate about. And yet he felt unsettled, because he knew this was the type of work you would not engage in.

Osamu pressed on, “I’m sure you’ll find yourself someone more worldly, more sophisticated in the city. I don’t want to prevent you from meeting someone like that.”

Something dropped at the pit of your stomach. Your mouth was ajar. He’s really trying to break up with you. It’s no secret that you preferred the city and Osamu the countryside, but neither of you seemed to mind. You’d both make the time to visit each other. You made it work.

You remember barely touching your drink. Listening to him talk was like having a ton of bricks dropped on your back. The sunlight pouring in from the glass window suddenly felt prickly.

“I just don’t think we’re a good fit.” he swallowed, unable to look you in the eye, “I think someone from the country, someone simpler and more traditional would be better for me.”

You don’t miss the yearning in his voice, the dreaminess for someone who was clearly not you. He’d always tease that you were a true blue big city girl. You liked the tall buildings, the noise and the fancy department stores. You thought it was a point of endearment, but apparently not.

It’s been almost a year since you last saw him. He looks so unaffected it irks you.

“I broke up with you respectfully. Why are you mad?” he scratches his head.

It takes all your self-control to not slap him across the face.

“Because you hurt me! You’ve hurt me so…so…much.” your voice hitches before you can catch it. This is so humiliating. He’s clearly moved on from you.

Tears start pouring down your face. You quickly hide your eyes behind your coat.

“You’d eventually realize that I’m not right for you.” he murmurs, “We’re too different.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” you snap, clenching your fists, “So is this is it? To make you feel better you’re going to date a small town girl to solve all your problems.”

“Well, Kita did introduce me to someone lately.” he unironically replies, “She works in her family ryokan (inn) and we work similar hours. I think we’ll understand each other more than we did.”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no point staying in a relationship that I can’t make time for. Why can’t you understand that?” he snaps back.

It is one thing to be left for someone else and another for him to dump you just because. Somehow you feel like you lost even if you didn’t even have competition. He simply didn’t want you.

Your face contorts into an angry frown.

You slip on your coat and grab the door. “Man, you are a terrible ex. Do you know how it hurts when you tell me how wrong I was for you?”

When Osamu regains his cool, he tries to reach out to you, “I didn’t mean it that way…I didn’t feel good that I could make time for ‘ya and so I let the relationship go. Because i don’t know…—“

“Well, this is all just theory anyways.” he says, “I haven’t met Kita’s friend yet. We haven’t gone out yet, just the two of us.”

You do a double turn. “What?!?”

“Yeah, we’re working all the time but we haven’t made the time to meet.”

You break into a laugh. He stands stunned and confused.

“You know what? You stay behind. You left the last time. I want to be the one to leave this time.” you sigh, closing the door behind you.

You don’t turn back to see the look on his face.

————————————— Osamu mostly works in the countryside which means that you’d be less likely to run into each other in the city. It’s easier for you to keep your mind off him and focus on your current life.

So when you see him in the corner store in place of a small fried chicken stall you used to frequent, you’re visibly shocked, appalled even.

“What are you doing here?!” you jump back, “What happened to the fried chicken stall that was here?”

Osamu looks left and right, making sure no approaching customers can hear your dialogue.

“I run this stall now. Kawaneshi-san retired. It’s a great location. I’m literally in a crossroad between a shopping district and some schools. The rent isn’t too bad and it’s a very busy location.” he answers in his usual no nonsense tone.

You make a mental list not to pass by here again.

He recognizes the look on your face, “Have I just ruined your usual route for you?”

“I thought you were a country boy.” you avoid answering him.

“Even I need to make a living.” he snorts, carefully arranging umeboshi-flavored onigiri in his display case.

Sure! All of a sudden working in the city becomes important after he breaks up with you!

You roll your eyes and curtly walk away. You got here first. You love this city. You refuse to let some onigiri-making man ruin your everyday route.

The days roll into weeks. You stick to your route and diligently ignore Osamu each time. After a while it stops feeling weird that he’s there. You feel like you’re slowly taking pieces of yourself that he broke.

It feels so good to start to be whole again.

———————————— Your newfound peace with Osamu is interrupted when he calls you out of the blue one evening. He calls to tell you that he’s sick and that he needs help running groceries. The nerve!

“Don’t you have anyone else?” you groan. Hasn’t he made friends with some other shopkeepers?

“I have no one else. There’s only you.” he coughs through his words. He tries to explain that one of his few friends is out on bereavement.

You let it go. He clearly doesn’t have anyone for today.

You find out that Osamu lives in the apartment above his stall. The space is rather small. He shares his home with some of the equipment and supplies from his store.

He must hate it here. Osamu always loved wide open spaces.

You open the fridge to find it totally empty. His sink has a few empty bowls from his earlier rice porridges. You understand his desperation. He had nothing to eat.

Moved by his situation and the little compassion for him that remains in you, you sigh and begin chopping up some vegetables to make a nutritious broth. You add in some mushrooms and root crops. While the soup boils, you prepare rice and some pickles.

The faster he recovers, the less you have to interact with him.

When you bring him a tray of food in his room, he is equal parts surprised and confused.

“You can cook?” he clears his throat.

“No, Osamu.” you roll your eyes, “I eat all my food raw.”

He sits up and sniffs the aroma of your food through his clogged nose. He dips a spoon into the soup to sample his first meal of the day.

“I mean you can cook well, like a proper home cook.” he says, his eyes wide with awe. He quickly takes a few more sips and starts on his rice.

“I’ve never known.” he croaks, turning to you.

“You never asked,” you shrug, “And you like to do the cooking yourself. You probably assumed I can’t cook, because I’m not as passionate about food as you are.”

He quietly eats and looks away to confirm the truth in your statement.

You sigh and take a nearby basin with some towels in it. “I’ll leave after I bring the basin back.”

——————————————- Something changes in your relationship with Osamu after that incident. He starts to greet you when you walk by and sometimes offers you onigiri from his store.

You always insist on paying. He doesn’t always take it.

“You’re here to make a living.” you say as you push money into his hands.

In between these exchanges you start to ask about each other again. How are you doing? Was today busy? Stuff like that.

Slowly and surely, you two were rebuilding your relationship ground up. But it was tough. Neither of you went beyond these interactions. Maybe things are just meant to stay that way.

One late evening, the last customer for the day disappears out of Osamu’s line of sight when he heads into the back to start cleaning up. He’s about to start pulling down the rafters when you suddenly show up at his counter.

His face expresses his surprise.

“If it’s too late, I can just go.” you gesture sheepishly.

He’s always surprised when you come here on your own volition.

“It’s not,” he denies, “I was closing up too early anyways.”

You pick out your usual onigiri flavors and quickly pay up. As soon as you turn your back, Osamu stammers at you.

“I-I’m cooking up some stuff at the back. Do you want to stay and eat? Think of it as a return favor for the other week.” he refers to the episode of his sick day.

You’re caught off guard but you slowly nod your head to agree. You hadn’t had Osamu’s cooking in a while and it was getting quite late. He opens the door for you and you follow him towards the back of his shop.

In a messy plastic table, you see an array of salads and pickles with different kinds of miso soup laid out. You feel almost intrusive, even more than last week.

You set the table. Osamu fetches hot rice.

It feels unnecessary for you to be here especially if he is with someone else. You do your best to keep your mouth shut. This is a friendly return of favor.

Osamu notices how unusually quiet you are. He chats you up about work. He tries his best to be animated and show interest in your latest project. He asks about your coworkers and your work environment. Were you having fun? Do you get to eat on time?

For dessert, he brings out mochi wrapped in leaves.

“It’s made by the girl I was telling you about.” he remarks, while clearing the dishes.

“Oh,” your heart sinks. You get up and leave, feeling humiliated by your naivety. Of course he’s with her. You feel stupid for even hoping.

You’re about to walk out when he comes back in. “Apparently, she’s been secretly in a relationship with another chef in her family inn. They recently got married and are hoping to start a family soon. She sent these down to inform me. I suppose that solves the problem of having to see someone outside of work—”

He sees you standing. Confusion runs through his expression.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Just stretching…” you lie.

You want to shoot yourself in the foot in embarrassment.

When realization dawns on him, Osamu looks crestfallen. Any energy left in his body abandons him. He sighs, resigned.

“It’s ok if you want to go,” he nods, “Or if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He bites his lip and looks down on his shoes. The room is still and pregnant with silence.

“I really am just stretching. My hip feels wonky from sitting all day.” you insist with some renewed energy. You grab hold of the pot on the table. “Also, can we get some more hot water? Tea would be nice with the mochi and it’s kind of gone cold.”

He offers to make another pot, relief evident on his face.

“I’ll go heat up the water.” he walks to the kettle, “Are you sure you want dessert?”

You sit back down.

“Yeah, I want to stay.” you murmur. For once you don’t go running to the door.

He glances at you, content, a small smile creeping on his face. ——————————————————

Atsumu, Osamu’s twin brother, always finds himself in his brother’s kitchen every time he visits. He doesn’t mind too much though. It gives them something to do when they catch up.

“Samu, you can’t still be moping around your ex!” Atsumu exclaims. He’s washing Osamu’s dishes as his brother prepares for their meal.

“I’m not ready to get back out there.” Osamu waves dismissively.

Atsumu flicks some water his way. “You’re just not open to seeing someone else.”

His words clearly prick Osamu who throws flour into his face. Atsumu dodges right on time and flicks some flour right back.

Some flour grazes Osamu’s sleeve. He sighs and dusts himself.

“It’s tough, because I’m working all the time. This job doesn’t pay too much and it’s not glamorous. Who’d wanna date someone like me?” he murmurs.

“That’s why you gotta date around to find out!” Atsumu emphasizes, “Maybe you’ll even find someone who might help you with your business when you get married.”

Osamu obstinately shakes his head. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

Atsumu dries his hand and carefully observes his brother. He puts his towel down onto the kitchen counter and raises his brow, “Or maybe I should just give you advice on getting back together.’

As if right on cue, Osamu slams his hand down onto the counter, “I hate that we still haven’t gotten back together. This is killing me!”

Atsumu chuckles in satisfaction. He’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Why has nothing happened yet? I’m already in the city!” Osamu continues on, “They can cook too! Did you know that?! I wish we can skip to the part where we can settle down.”

He vigorously gestures in frustration.

“I cannot! I just cannot move on until I know I’ve given everything to make this work and yet every time I see them all I do is offer them food!”

Atsumu places his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “You need to be more strategic about it. Here’s what you need to do…”

———————————————————————————

Osamu takes a deep breath before knocking at your door. He holds a bag of onigiri in one hand and whatever courage he has in another.

One knock, then another. He hasn’t been this nervous in a long while.

When you open the door, his ear picks up on a male voice inside your house. Combined with your expression, he realizes that he’s come at an inconvenient time.

“I brought you something.” he tries to smile despite the sweat pooling, “I made you lunch. I just wanted to make sure you were eating. We don’t have to talk. I just wanted to give this to you.”

He tries to look past your shoulder, attempting to glimpse at your guests.

“Are you seeing someone else by any chance?” he blurts out, “I want to clarify before I make any more free deliveries.”

You frown. “That’s none of your business, Osamu. You should leave.”

Your frankness pierces something within him. He hadn’t expected to be rejected so quickly.

Osamu’s eyes widen and his mouth drops. He quickly gathers himself before he gets disheartened.

“I want you to give me a second chance. You loved me so deeply. Maybe you can find love in me again.” he says quietly.

“I thought I was too much of a city girl for you,” you retort, despite lacking an edge in your voice. You notice his hands tightly clutching the plastic bag.

The noise at the back seems to melt away. It’s like you’re back in that party, standing too close to each other near the coat rack and the door.

“Maybe you’re not.” his shoulders gracefully go up and down.

You shook your head wryly, “Osamu, I haven’t changed. I like my job and the city. I’m not the life and business partner that you’re looking for. I’m just a customer and we should keep it that way.”

“I can stop if you like.” he offers meekly, putting his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, you should. You’ve hurt me so much.” you cover your mouth with your hands while you try not to sob, “There’s nothing to go back to.”

“I’m sorry I ended things the way I did.” he looks away, “Seeing you walk by me every day feels like penitence…“

You close the door before he says anymore.

Osamu gazes longingly at the door. It’s only now that the full weight of losing you sinks in.

—————————————— “How’d it go?” Atsumu calls to check on Osamu.

Osamu sucks in his breath, his palm pressed on his temple. Atsumu braces himself, this doesn’t sound good.

“They had someone else over.” Osamu is seething in frustration and angry tears.

“Calm down. Were they alone? Or was it a friend group?” Atsumu ’s mind races. He sifts through the situation in an attempt to placate his brother.

“Yeah? No? I don’t know.” Osamu snaps, “They told me she didn’t want to talk about it. Your advice sucks!”

Osamu walks most of the way home. When he catches sight of his store, he curses. He had left his damn bike at your apartment complex! The universe is not giving him any breaks today.

He sighs and continues towards his store. He had a friend watch it while he was away. He’ll have to come pick up after he closes the store.

Throughout the rest of the day, he tries to push you out of his mind. By the time he closes the store, he is bursting at the seams with anticipation to make his way back to your apartment.

Before he sets off, he sees your figure wheeling his bike towards him.

“You left your bike.” you breathe out. You fish something out of your pocket and toss him the key to his bike lock, “You left this in your lock too.”

“Every time you see me, I just look dumber and dumber.” he sighs in exasperation.

You can’t help but burst into laughter at his candidness. He perks up a bit. He hasn’t made you laugh in a while. Of course he’d rather have you laugh with him than at him. Still, this was a start right?

"Did Atsumu put you up to this?" you chuckle, handing the bike over.

“Yeah, how did you know?” he asks dumbfounded.

“I just do.” you scoff, “It’s not like you to show up on people’s doors.”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. It was a moment of weakness.”

Your eyes lower, framing the sad expression that sets into your face, “Yeah, it better not. I’ve moved on.”

You turn around to walk away. In a brief moment of courage, he cups his hands around his mouth.

“I’m not ready to move on from you and if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” he calls out.

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

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar​

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! I’m definitely making a part 2!

[30secondstoanime]

The Birthday Present

pairing: Pro!Hero Midoriya x Fem!Reader

genre/warnings: Reader Insert, Birthday Sex

Kinky Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Out of His Comfort Zone, That's Not How You're Supposed to Use Your Quirk, Porn With Plot, praise kink?, very smutty, Rough Sex, role-playing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Choking, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, after sex cuddles

word count: 7,467

→ summary: Your birthday is around the corner. What better gift than your boyfriend, the #1 Hero Deku, finally giving you what you want the way you want it: rough and kinky. But first plot!

a/n: Sorry about the crap summary and title, I'm working on that lol. So this is my first fic for the bnha fandom and first attempt at writing very explicit sex scenes and venturing into kinks/BDSM, so please be kind, but also I’d love feedback! This was supposed to be a cute four-page oneshot but turned into a sixteen-page, 7k+ word behemoth, hence the self-indulgent tag ‘cause I couldn't stop writing. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor ;)

In a few days, you’ll be turning twenty-four. Your birthday has always been an odd day you think for someone with your quirk because age really was just a number. That’s not to say you weren’t planning to do something fun, at least if you could figure out what you’d like to do. Okay, so that was a lie. You knew exactly what or should you say who you wanted to do and that it involved getting your back blown out. As soon as the thought pops into your head, your epiglottis forgets its job, and you choke on the sip of UCC coffee, you had tried to swallow. You cough to clear your airway, gasping when air finally expands your lungs. You tap your pen nervously against your desk, eyes scanning the other pro heroes’ faces in your agency. It seems your sudden outburst hadn’t disrupted the comfortable silence of the natural lull of the workday. A beep from your hero pager pulls your attention away from people watching in the office. Coordinates flash in five consecutive seconds before the transmission ends. You stand grabbing your toolbelt and strapping it across your hips; you make your way to the front. As you near the exit, you hear your hero name being called. You turn and see Yaomomo briskly walking towards you.

“Hey Creati, you got the page too?”

“I did, sounds like they’ve made a bit of a mess of things.” You scoff good-naturedly.

“When do they ever not. Were they really like this during your time at U.A.?” She giggles and nods her head. You wonder if you’ll ever stop cleaning up after the nation’s top three heroes.

“Better get going then, we both know they share a singular brain cell, so there’s no telling how much time we have to fix things.”

“Atomic!” You laugh at Yaomomo’s weak attempt to scold you — the amusement in her black eyes softens the tone.

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Oh my.”

You blow out a low whistle. Ice and scorch marks are scattered across the street and surrounding buildings. Explosive ash is still gently falling from the sky, and black tendrils are haphazardly keeping electric poles, exposed building foundation, and an abundance of wrecked vehicles from collapsing.

“Creati, check the building foundations. Create new beams and weld them together if necessary. I’ll get started on the pole, we can’t have a live electric wire falling.” She nods, and you split off. The work is slow and arduous, but the orderly nature of reorganizing and coaxing atomic particles back into place helps the time pass quickly. You’ve just finished rearranging the anatomical structure of a car hanging from a, thankfully, undamaged light pole, so that it falls to the ground weightlessly. You touch the damaged side, pull it back together, and return the car to its original density. You give the car a quick tap with the toe of your foot to test the structural integrity, satisfied you step back taking in your handiwork. What had a few hours ago looked like a DEFCON 3 military mission gone awry is now back to looking like an ordinary Japanese street. Well, as normal as you and Yaomomo could reconstruct — you weren’t miracle workers, and Ground Zero’s explosive residue was hard to get rid of. Instead, the way it collected and hung in the atmosphere made it difficult for your quirk to erase without condensing the air. That was out of the question unless you wanted to suffocate Yaomomo. Which you didn’t, so the employees of these buildings would be dealing with the smell for at least a week. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets and make your way over to Creati. Her welding mask obscures her face, but you know it’s in deep concentration. After she cuts the torch and pushes the protective gear up, she gives you a smile.

“All done?”

“Just about.”

“I’ll page H.Q. Might even lodge a formal complaint against those three bird brains while I’m at it.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious.” She shoots you an incredulous look.

“They make this huge ass mess and don’t even bother to wait for us to arrive before dipping. Total dick move.”

“Ah-huh.” You don’t like the teasing note in her voice.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You cross your arms defensively.

“Spit it out, Yaoyorozu.”

“You sure your foul attitude has nothing to do with not seeing Deku?” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll see him at home like I do every day. So no, I’m not upset about not seeing him.”

“If you say so.” She gives you a look, and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“You cannot still be stuck on that!”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” She bats her eyes at you innocently while creating a duffle bag to transport the welding equipment.

“That God awful theory you and Ashido have about me having a hero kink for Izuku." You begin to walk side by side back to the agency. You hand her an energy bar from your utility belt.

“I mean, you do get very flushed whenever you see him on patrol. Like, if it were a hentai video, you’d definitely be drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.”

“Ugh!” You shove her with your shoulder. “That is so gross.” Both of you laugh, and after a small lapse into silence, you give.

“Okay fine. I might get instahorny whenever I see Izuku in costume, but I can’t help it. He just looks so good, and it’s heightened because I know what he looks like out of costume, and then all I want to do is jump his bones, but of course, I don’t because propriety. So I’m left with all this pent up sexual frustration!”

“So, are you going to ever mention this to him? Your birthday is in a few days and if I may be so bold —”

“It’s never stopped you.” You mumble under your breath with a smile.

“I’d suggest you request it be your birthday present.”

“Pfft. Yaomomo, we’ve been together almost a year and a half, and while our sex life is fucking phenomenal, I’m talking multiple orgasms almost every time, amazing — it’s been very strictly vanilla. Not from any lack of trying on my end, but every time I’ve tried to spice things up, he gets as close as humanly possible to spontaneous combustion. Don’t even get me started on the one time I tried to get him to choke me while I —”

“(Y/N)! Stop, goodness, I do not need the play by play of your and Izuku’s sex life. I just,” she massages her temples, “wanted to make a suggestion. While I’m relieved you feel so secure in our friendship to be so open, please remember I went to high school with him. He’s like a little brother.”

“Oh, Yaomomo, there’s nothing little about him.” Her face pales, and you can’t stifle your cackle. It quickly becomes a full-blown laugh that rattles through your body.

“I went a little too far with that last comment, gomen. On a serious note, though, how would I even go about asking him? ‘Hey babe, it’s my birthday so I want you to fuck me until my knees are jello while in your hero costume because it gets me all hot and bothered oh and since I’m risking it all I’d love it if you tied me up and maybe choked me too.’”

You glance over your shoulder, a look of profound regret is plastered over Yaomomo’s face. You give her an impish grin.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it.”

“Oh (Y/N).” Your friend shakes her head. When you finally turn the corner onto the street, your hero agency is housed, you catch sight of a mop of green hair. You pick up your pace, a mischievous grin on your face. Using your quirk, you redistribute your mass, so your footfall’s noise against the pavement is silenced. Izuku is talking with someone, his back turned to you. The goods were on display. When he’s in reach, you stretch out your arms, hands cupping his butt you feel him stiffen as you whisper against his ear.

“You’re under arrest for transporting illegal buns of steel.” You watch the blush creep up from his neck before capturing his entire face. He turns his neck, trying to get a good look at you.

“Wh-what!” You begrudgingly let go of his ass, and he turns his body to face you, his freckles standing out against the pink hue of his flustered expression.

“Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I- I, (Y/N) that’s not even a legal penal code! A-and there’s no way I could transport enough steel on my person to warrant a body search.”

“Ooh Deku,” you loosen up the state of your atoms, allowing them to vibrate in mock arousal, “I love it when you talk legal code at me. Repeat it: penal.”

He flounders for a reply, mouth agape at a total loss for words. You giggle at his expression, a total deer in headlights. The person he’d been talking to finally makes themselves known.

“Atomic, you’re still teasing the living soul out of Deku per usual. Glad to know things haven’t changed ‘round here.” His shark tooth smile pulls an equally toothy smile from you.

“Eijiro! When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” You rush to the redhead, and he reciprocates your hug, holding you tight.

“Man, I’ve missed you too (Y/N). The States were cool, but there’s no manlier place than home sweet home.” You pull back and take him in. He looks the exact same if not a little bit more tanned.

“Damn straight.” Yaoyorozu arrives at the end of your reunion. Her excitement at seeing her old friend is nearly palatable. They catch up enthusiastically, and you saddle up next to your boyfriend, who’s finally gotten his blush under control.

“Hey, babe.” You give his cheek a chaste kiss, and he smiles.

“Hey, love,” Izuku gives your hand a squeeze, “How was your day?”

“It was pretty run of the mill except for the utter shitstorm Yaomomo and I had to clean up in Minato City.” You glance down and watch his feet shuffle from side to side.

“Huh, sounds pretty epic.”

“Not the first, second, or even the third word I’d use, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. And don’t you try acting coy with me, Izuku! That blonde ticking time grenade, the confused weather pattern, and your quirk were all over that place.” Izuku gulps.

“I expended a lot of energy cleaning up after you and your friends baka. As compensation, you’ve gotta cook me curry rice. Deal?”

He kisses your cheek in assent.

“Great!” You beam. “I’m gonna go change, be back in fifteen.” You disappear through the agency’s massive double doors. Yaomomo watches until you’re out of view before she walks over to Midoriya.

“So about (Y/N) ’s birthday . . .”

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

When you come out, you find a peculiar scene waiting for you. Yaoyorozu has crafted a fan for, you presume, Izuku, who is so red you could almost see the light refraction from his face’s heat and sweating by what looks like the gallon. Eijiro is by his side, trying to calm him down. You heighten the sensitivity of your cochlea to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“It’ll be super manly, dude!”

“Bu-but I’ve never . . .” Your boyfriend seems tongue-tied.

“You’ve definitely got it in you,” Eijiro slaps Izuku on the back, “Plus Ultra!”

Izuku echoes Eijiro, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.

You return to your average level of hearing and walk up to the trio.

“Everything good?” They all look at you with expressions that clearly scream, ‘No, everything is not good dumbass.’

“Riiight, foolish question. Izuku, babe, do you need me to help you?” He squeaks, and that stops you dead in your tracks. The last time he had squeaked in your presence was when he’d asked you out on your first date, and you think it was mostly because you had bluntly told him you had every intention of having sex with him if not after your first then for sure after your second date. He didn’t even squawk when you made good on your declaration, and you had been positive he was going to. Your assurance cost you a ¥2,000 bet with Ochako and Shoto. Whatever had transpired while you were changing had him spooked.

You crouch down and gently take his face between your hands. His cheeks are unnaturally warm. Closing your eyes, you reach out with your quirk to scan his vitals. What the actual fuck? Izuku’s pregenual anterior cingulate cortex is enormous. Your boyfriend is next level embarrassed. His heart rate is in the 200bpm range, which should have been impossible because it only ever got that high when he was exercising, and you were quite familiar with getting it there.

You’re honestly shocked his heart hasn’t started to palpitate with the sky-high levels of cortisol in his blood and high heart rate. Taking a deep breath, you begin to gently persuade the firing neurons near his PACC to chill, its size slowly decreases. You travel down to his hypothalamus and rearrange some of its chemical balance, so it stops producing corticotropin-releasing hormone, creating a negative feedback loop that would lead to his body to drop its cortisol production. You vasoconstrict a handful of the blood vessels in his face for good measure, hoping to cool it down. Your eyes flutter open, and the ruddiness is gone, and his cheeks feel cool against your palms. He gives you a weak smile and gosh that smile, these freckles, those lively emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his, taking a moment to collect yourself. You kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself up, stretching once you’re fully upright.

“Well damn, I’m starving now. I know I said you had to cook for me, but I don’t think I’ll last. What do you say, Number 1. Hero, care to take me out to eat?”

Izuku gets to his feet, with a bit of help from Eijiro, who keeps a hand wrapped around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

“Yeah, of course, love. Just tell me where you want to eat.”

You grin in delight. Before making a decision, you turn to your two other companions. You’re not sure when Yaomomo had time to change, but she’s no longer in her hero costume.

“Would y’all like to join us? Izuku’s treat.” Your cinnamon roll’s protest is drowned out by their loud acceptance.

“I mean, if my bro is gonna treat us, then how could I say no?”

“How gracious Izuku, I’d love to share a meal with everyone.”

“Let’s get going then!” You grab Izuku’s hand and turn around, heading in the direction of the train stop. The walk will give you time to decide where you want to eat.

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Hold on one sec, almost got it.” You pace next to Izuku; the pressure on your bladder almost debilitating. At the click of your front door unlocking and seeing Izuku push it open, you rush through over the threshold. You kick the heels off your feet, your slippers abandoned at the entryway as you make a break for the bathroom. You can’t get your underwear off quick enough. The relief is almost pleasurable. You’d forgotten what it felt like to pee while exceedingly inebriated. Typically when you go out drinking, you elevate your liver’s production of alcohol dehydrogenase so you can avoid getting drunk, but tonight was your birthday celebration, and you wanted to get shitfaced, so you dialed it back. Now that you’re home and not interested in a hangover, you make the necessary adjustments to your liver. The night out had been a pleasant surprise. More people had shown up than you’d been led to believe would, most importantly, your younger siblings had stopped by — you hadn’t seen them since moving to Musutafu to pursue your hero career. You finish reminiscing over the night’s events. Quickly wiping, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. When you open the door, you find your slippers are there waiting. He was a total sweetheart.

You slide your sore feet in and sigh at the fluffiness. You make your way to your bedroom, surprised to find it empty. Where had Izuku gone? You take off your earrings, dropping them into your jewelry box. Making your way to the main bathroom connected to your room, you’ve just finished wiping away your makeup when you hear the door open. You walk to the bathroom door to peek and gasp as soon as you spot the figure closing the door behind them. Now you’d be the first to admit you are a horny bitch, but never have you felt your pussy throb with such a deep longing the way it was throbbing now. You stand still dumbfounded at seeing Izuku in his hero costume in your bedroom.

“Babe?” You try to suppress the quiver in your voice.

“Ma’am,” He tilts his head in greeting, “I got reports of a villain in the vicinity. I’m Deku, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Why the fuck did he just introduce himself? And a villain? You reach out with your quirk but don’t feel an unknown presence nearby. You start to walk towards him but stop at the foot of your bed. He meets you there, and you don’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not him pushing you onto your back. You fall with a muffled thud against the comforter. You stare up at him at a complete loss. You then become hyper-aware of what you’re wearing. The sparkling strappy mini dress leaves little to the imagination, and you’re positive that from his angle, Izuku can see your panties and the growing evidence of your arousal.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I’ll be using my quirk to restrain you as a precautionary measure.” Your mouth goes dry as you watch Blackwhip manifest wrapping around your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, and adhering to your shared bed’s headboard. You have to scoot yourself back a few inches to ease the tension in your shoulders. Holy shit. He just tied you up. This whole time he’s been standing at the end of the bed taking you in. You know your face is flushed, and you can feel your nipples brushing against the material of your dress now that you’re so turned on. Izuku’s hands come into view, and that somehow gets your mouth to work again.

“What are you going to do?” You arch an eyebrow and part your lips to let your tongue dart out and wet them. Fuck Yaomomo wasn’t off the mark with her comment.

“I’ll need to do a full-body search to ensure you’re not concealing anything illegal on your person.” You don’t have time to respond before his gloved hands caress down your pinned arms, across where your neck and shoulders meet. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You groan as the sensation travels down, pooling between your legs. He moves down your sides, slowly over your exposed thighs sticking strictly to the outside of your legs until he reaches mid-calf. You feel his hands move, and suddenly their inching closer to your aching cunt. Using his right hand Izuku runs a finger teasingly up between your clothed slit and your hips give an involuntary buck. He removes his finger and tuts at you, that pisses you off.

“What the fuck Izu —” You stop yourself when you see another tendril of black materialize near your face.

“Don’t make me gag you. My name is Deku, and you will address me as Deku-sama.” There’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You’re torn between being really fucking aroused and very vexed at this role reversal. You’d always been on top, literally and figuratively, and now here he was, your cinnamon roll, threatening to gag you and not even blushing about it. He takes your silence as understanding and begins to hike up the bottom of your dress. With your midriff exposed, he finally settles between your legs, his toned abdomen flush against you. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above your belly button, his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. Izuku’s lips continue to roam over every inch of your exposed abdomen, sucking and biting. He’s going to leave love marks all over your stomach, you’re sure. His hands travel up under your dress, coming to rest just below your breasts. You feel the flat of his tongue working its way towards his hands. When you can feel his breath tickling you already hard nipples, he pulls his face away. You squirm and pull against your restraint — you feel them tighten.

“What is it you want, villain?” Fuuuck. The word falls from his lips wrapped in sinful promise sending another steady pulse of need through your body. Your nervous system was on fire.

“I want you to touch me.” You try to taper down the pleading in your voice, but the mildly amused expression on Izuku’s face says you failed.

“Like this?” His hand runs down your neck, over your dress and through the valley of your cleavage, past your naval stopping at the band of your panties. It dawns on you that he was teasing you.

“Or like this?” You’re not sure when his gloves came off or how he managed it, but one second you’re covered by the flimsy dress material next, the straps keeping it up are torn, and the dress pulled down. You hiss at the shock of the sudden temperature change, but quickly warm up as calloused fingers massage your breasts. A greedy moan is the only answer you can manage as you arch your back into his touch. He leans closer, breath warm against your neck, and moves a hand down to grip your ass,

“Let’s see if these are illegal buns of steel.” Even with how incredibly husky his voice is, you almost laugh at his remark’s absolute absurdity. Still, having maybe foreseen your reaction Izuku wraps one of your nipples between his lips before you can utter a sound.

“Deku-sama.” You inhale sharply coming completely unwound as his tongue flicks and swirls. His mouth sucks and pulls playfully. When his teeth graze your nipple, you contemplate making your hands boneless to escape the restraints just so you could tangle your hands in his hair; even with the undercut, you knew you could make him moan. The idea is quickly dashed as Izuku releases your now overly sensitive bud with a resounding pop that sends the ache in your pussy into a frenzy. Good god , he hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet. He treats your other nipple with much the same attention. However, this time, he lets his teeth give it a gentle nibble, and the shock of the feeling causes your skin to prickle. You feel him grin at your reaction before giving your nipple a farewell lick. He captures your lips, shoving his hips down against your own, as his hands’ ghost over your neck. You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to create as much friction as possible as you roll your hips upward. He lets out a breathy chuckle, as his mouth moves to replace his hands. He kisses up your neck, his breath tickles your ear, and you stutter out a needy whimper.

“Someone’s eager.” You groan in frustration as he pulls back. His hands grab hold of what’s left of your dress, and you help him get you out of it. He runs a finger up your stomach, stopping just below your sternum. The tip of his index finger traces a lazy circle before leaving a trail of goosebumps back down to your hip. The pressure of his finger is replaced by his mouth, biting the flesh of your hip crease hungrily. He kisses his away across to your opposite hip, traces of his kisses wet against your skin. You feel his fingers toying with the lacy hem of your panties before he hooks them in the elastic, pulling them down. You lift your hips as they pass over the curve of your ass, and you wriggle in anticipation. Izuku braces his left forearm against your right thigh, pushing your legs wider. His index finger explores your wet folds, dipping briefly into your slit, before brushing against your swollen clitoris.

“Deku-sama, please .” You don’t care how desperate you sound, the ache in your pussy is becoming unbearable. The slow burn was killing you.

“Since you said, please.” He slips a thick finger inside of you, curling it just so it massages the soft and spongy spot that makes your toes curl and lewd obscenities fall from your parted lips.

“Aah, fuck. Fuck, yes, there, right there. More. Izuku give me more.” A second finger is roughly inserted. You cry out as a jolt of ecstasy consumes every inch of you. He begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, “It’s De-ku sa-ma,” each thrust emphasizing the syllables of his declaration. You rock your hips up, trying to get his fingers deeper because you are close. You can feel the dam getting ready to burst. When his thumb circles your clit, you feel yourself clench around his fingers. He inhales sharply. You bite back a moan as stars begin to dance across your vision. The rhythm of his fingers picks up, and the pressure on your clit begins to be too much.

“You’re about to cum.” It’s not a question, but you manage to pant a yes, and it becomes your undoing. Tongue replaces fingers before you can bemoan feeling empty, hands wrap under your thighs, keeping you exposed when they instinctively try to shut. His fingers dig into soft flesh, and the pain leaves you dizzy for more. He unhooks his left arm from your thigh, again using his forearm to keep your leg down. Two fingers spread you open, and his breath is warm, and you screw your eyes shut because fucking hell, you feel ready to erupt. You feel the warmth of his tongue as it slips inside you and starts to lick around. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps up your wetness. When he takes your clitoris in his mouth, you feel yourself at the edge of a precipice.

“Y-your fin-fingers. Deku-sama.” You frantically tug against your binds as you arch your hips rutting into his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel yourself drowning in pleasure when his fingers join back in the fray. You’re full, and his tongue is everywhere. Inside you along with his fingers, pressing in all the right places. There’s no room to be embarrassed by your body’s wet sounds as you thrust against his fingers or the sounds he’s eliciting from you — loud, throaty, and gluttonous. He laps up the juices wherever they end up, on your thighs, in your folds, the space between your pussy and ass. At your clit he teases with nibbles, quick flicks of his tongue, and long flat strokes. He was treating you like you were his favorite meal. Coming back for seconds, thirds, fourths. You lose track of time. The air crackles with electricity, Izuku, the electromagnet to your copper coils. It sparks against your skin. Were you doing that? You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter because something was building. You feel it in your core, your quirk causing your atoms to buzz in excitement. He lets you hook your legs around his back, locking your ankles. You make a strangled noise when a particularly aggressive thrust combined with the head-splitting euphoria of Izuku’s tongue on your clit brings your Earth stuttering on its axis.

“Oh fuck, oh kami. Shit, Deku-sama!”

You flicker in and out. One second howling Izuku’s name like a prayer to the Gods, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. The next, you find yourself weightless in a void no longer in a corporeal form. What the fuck? It lasts no longer than a second before you return to your body and the sound of him cooing against your aching cunt.

“That’s it, cum villain. Cum for me.” And cum, you do. Waves of fiery ecstasy set your body aflame. You clench your fists and use your legs to pull Izuku’s face further flush against you. When you think you can catch your breath, Izuku surprises you by coaxing you into another smaller orgasm. You don’t know how he did it, but you really can’t complain, you’re feeling blissful as fuck. The bed creaks as he shifts back onto his knees, unwrapping your legs from around him. Blachwip is deactivated, and your arms fall uselessly to your sides. You feel your legs quiver from exertion, and you watch your chest rise in fall sporadically as your breathing levels off. You prop yourself up on your elbow to give Izuku a once over. He’s got a bit of sweat on his forehead, you can see the outline of his erection against the front of his hero costume, and your cum glistens on his nose, mouth, and chin. Not sure how you manage it, with your body feeling so close to putty, but you scoot back, pulling yourself up into a seated position, and rock forward onto your knees so you’re facing him.

You move closer, so your knees brush against his. Now that you’re close enough, you can see how blown his pupils are. They almost wholly eclipse the dark shamrock of his irises. He had it bad for you. You could fix that. You grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting it down to your lips so you can lick it clean. When your tongue traces the outline of his mouth, a low moan rumbles in the back of his throat. You get his mouth open with a hard nip to his bottom lip. Tasting yourself in his mouth and on his tongue makes you squeeze your thighs together briefly before you let your free hand wander between your legs to stroke your clit and moistening labia. You give the tip of his nose a cutesy peck that almost brings a blush to his freckled face, but he remains in character, so you palm his cock with your damp hand grinning devilishly when he stutters an exhale.

“I want you, hero.”

Izuku’s chuckle is rich, and you can feel it reverberate against where your chests connect. You start to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut tickles your fingertips. Sliding your hand up, you finally get to tangle your fist in his hair, your grip tightens, and you pull his head back, exposing his neck. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to just below his earlobe, all the while your hand strokes him into fully hardening.

“I’m not fucking around, Deku.” Your voice is thick and your tone dark, dangerous. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s between his legs and growls,

“Neither am I villain slut.” You swallow hard at his inflection on the word slut. You’d never been called a slut during sex, and under any other circumstance, you’re sure it wouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal pulsing from your fingertips down to your toes. He brings the hand up above your head, reaching behind his head to grab your second hand. You give him a feral grin, and his eyes flash before he sends you to your back. You’re about to stretch out your legs when he commands you to flip over onto your hands and knees. You do as you’re told, biting your lip as warmth begins to once again pool between your legs. You wish you could help him out of his costume, but it sounds like your help wasn’t needed. His dick grazes against the back of your thighs. A finger follows the curve of your spine. You arch into the touch and moan when it dips at your hip to tap your clitoris.

“You’re so wet already. You villains really know nothing about bedroom decorum.” He skims a hand over your stomach, stopping to grope and tease your hardened nipples.

“Oh? Keeping a woman in suspense isn’t exactly proper in my book De-ku sa-ma.” You look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re,” he thrust into you without warning, quickly turning the grin on your face into an open-mouthed ‘oh,’ “not,” he pulls out, so the tip of his head just barely touches your cunt, “a woman.” He pushes into you, swearing under his breath as you push your hips back to meet his momentum. A ragged breath escapes your lips as you adjust to him, filling you. Shit, the boy is thick. His nails dig into your hip as he continues to fuck you at a painfully slow pace. Fingers tweak your nipples, and you feel your whole body flush with pleasure. You clutch the bedsheets in two tight fists when he starts to quicken his thrusts. His chest is slick with sweat against your back, his tongue tracing circles into your shoulder. An aggressive stroke sends the head of his cock rubbing up against your G-spot, and you feel your walls squeeze around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck Deku. That’s it. Just keep putting pressure on that spot.” You feel your elbows buckle, and you expect to crash into the bed. Instead, black tendrils wrap around your arms to keep you upright. This is definitely not how Lariat intended Blackwhip’s tendrils to be used. The thought makes you giggle. It seems that this was not a sound Izuku wanted to hear coming from you. He bites down on the spot of your shoulder he’d been suckling, making his displeasure known. You feel him adjust himself behind you, perhaps too quickly, because he slips out of you, and you protest immediately with a loud whine.

“I’ll give you something to whine about.” He thrust back into you, your knees go weak, and your pussy’s stimulation begins to pull the taught rope of your impending orgasm closer to snapping. One of his hands grabs the hair at the base of your neck, tugging with just enough force to tease a guttural mewl from you.

“That’s more like it.” You’re so overstimulated, with the rhythm of his dick coming in and out of you. The attention he’s paying to your clit, you scarcely have the headspace to be shocked by the personality change. Izuku doesn’t release his hold on your hair; instead, he deactivates Blackwhip and uses the grip to guide you, so your back is flush against his chest. You can smell the muskiness of his sweat with him so close. It mingles in the air with the scent of your arousal. Sex, the whole room smelled heavily of your fucking. He brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. You open your mouth, taking it in, holding it gently between your teeth, your lips acting as a cushion. You suck on Izuku’s thumb, letting your tongue swirl over the tip treating it how you would if you were instead sucking on the head of his cock. You hollow out your cheek and release his thumb with a satisfying pop. Your reward is the sound of Izuku’s heated gasp. The sound tightens the coil in your groin. You feel his right hand lightly trailing up your side. You expect him to stop to cup your breast, but a tingle runs up your spine when he skips it entirely. His thumb rests a few inches under your right ear, the fleshy part of his palm rests against your trachea, the remaining four fingers occupy the same spot under the opposite ear. You can’t hide your excitement as he begins to apply light pressure to your neck. It’s amplified when he whispers in your ear,

“Whose slut are you, villain?”

“I’m yours. All yours.” He squeezes a little tighter, and you squirm, gripping his left hip for stability.

“Yours, Deku-sama. I’m all yours.” You choke over the words while he loosens his grip satisfied with your correction. The brief bout of intoxicating lightheadedness dissipates quickly, but he keeps his hand around your neck.

You feel him, hard and slick, throbbing inside you, and you know he’s close. You prepare to ride out the coming crescendo that you’ll set off with your silver tongue.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, hero? I can feel your cock pulsing.” He squeezes your neck tighter than he has before reminding you who was in charge. You dig your nails into his hip and bite your lip. Was he turning into a masochist, or were you?

“I want you to cum in me. Make me your bona fide villain bitch — think you’re up for it, big boy?” You were being so bold, goading him. It does the trick. He releases his hold on your neck, you’re a little sad, but are swiftly distracted by a sudden burst of heat and green energy crackling, the telltale sign of Full Cowl being activated. What the hell was he up to? Your answer comes moments later when his hands push your bent legs further apart, hooking his arms under your thighs to lift them up. You feel weightless, free, and so very wanton. Then like being dosed with ice-cold water, you come back to your senses; you’ve always been terrified of being picked up during sex. Your arms flail, searching for anything to grab hold of. They settle awkwardly at Izuku’s neck. Your breathing is a little erratic.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Oh, he was being a total ass.

“Absolutely not.” You bite back.

“Heh.”

Sensing your discomfort, he places you back down on your knees, his hand returning to your neck — where it belonged. Shit, it was you, you’re the masochist. You feel him throb inside you, the head of his penis gets a little bigger and his cock harder. His movements become more sporadic. You take his free hand and lead it to your clit, you’d be damned if he cums before you. His groans become music to your ears, loud and ravenous as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. Soon that’s all you can feel, like tunnel vision nothing else matters, there are no other options, but his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you as his fingers dance around your clit. He flicks and pulls, rubs circles, and you savor every second of it. Everything cumulates into a blinding flash of white-hot light as if you’re staring directly at burning magnesium. You hear him crying out your name, and it mixes with your carnal pleas into a cacophonous soundtrack to your mutual climax. He finishes inside you, the thick viscous liquid of his orgasm, filling you with more warmth than you anticipated. As you ride out your orgasm, you don’t stop gyrating your hips until you feel Izuku become soft. You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop to catch your breath. You’re thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to pull out quite yet while you bask in the quiet exhilaration of having orgasmed three times this night.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

You nod your head slightly, words out of reach with your euphoria’s hum still clouding your mind. Cum trickles down between your thighs, the sensation almost ticklish, but far more erotic. With nothing connecting you to Izuku, your body gives in to its exhaustion, falling forward unceremoniously. He wraps an arm around your waist, setting you gently down on your stomach. Rolling onto your back, you shimmy up onto a pillow to support your head. You glance up at Izuku and sigh in content. Hair stuck to his head, abs contracting as he slows his breathing (his heart rate close to 180bpm), and his left-hand traces the scars on his right arm absently. Even in such a worn-out state, he looked otherworldly. You lock eyes, and you pat his side of the bed next to you.

“Cuddle with me.” At hearing those three words, he sheds his façade, his eyes soften, his jaw loosens, and he eagerly obliges your request. He rests his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his hair as he gently brushes your side. You stay like this for a few minutes until he starts out of your arms like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. He sits up, you follow suit intrigued by what’s got him so worked up. You watch him reach across towards his nightstand. He pulls out a notebook and a pencil. You have to suppress your snort as he begins scribbling furiously. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, catching bits and pieces of his muttering.

“. . . dominated . . . choking . . . loud . . . buns of steel. . .” You can’t stifle the laugh that escapes you. He glances up and gives you a sheepish grin, his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You fucked me into another dimension, jot that down in your sex notebook.” A blush erupts across his face.

“I-I what? Seriously?”

“Mhmm, as seriously as my orgasm.” Embarrassment flickers momentarily in his eyes, quickly replaced by intense curiosity. You dare say you see a little triumphant gleam too.

“What happened, tell me everything, love.” You recount what he’d been doing with his tongue and fingers. The feeling leading up to it and what it looked like in this other dimension.

“Sounds like you’ve unlocked another facet of your quirk.”

“Looks like it, but it’s not really useful.” He gives you an inquiring look; you roll your eyes. He could be so dense sometimes.

“I can’t exactly have you eating me out in public every time I want to astral project now, can I?” His blush returns full force.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Possibly, but I’m beat. My legs feel like jello, and I’m starting to feel sore.” You massage your neck, glancing at your exposed breasts and the marks that speckle them. Izuku looks at you with worry.

“You can’t fix it with your quirk?”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? One of my favorite parts of sex is feeling it the next day. I’m definitely going to tomorrow and maybe the day after thanks to you.” You give him a wink and admire as he fumbles with his words.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah. No problem. I think?” He was definitely back to being your cinnamon roll. You giggle quietly.

“Before I go clean up, I’ve gotta know. How did you do that.” You motion with your hand, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does.

“Simple, lots of research.” You squint at him, touching the pulse at his neck. It was slightly elevated.

“Ah-huh, and what else?”

“No-nothing!” The pulse quickens a little more.

“Did you role play with someone?” The idea sounds absolutely preposterous, but when he pushes your hand away from his neck and gets up off the bed, you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re using your quirk, that’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. So, who was it with? Shoto? Eiji? Or was it Katsuki ?” The light hue of pink that creeps up his neck is all the confirmation you need.

“Ah,” you bob your head sagely, “it makes sense, babe, he gives off a total masochist vibe. I’d have practiced with him too. What was it like? Would he be open to a threesome? Or would it be a foursome since he’s got that not, so secret thing going with Eiji? Could I even handle the three of you?” You wonder out loud.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku rushes into the bathroom, adamantly trying to end this conversation. You weren’t letting this go, oh no siree, so you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where Izuku’s turned on the shower and is standing under its current.

“Nice try. You’re giving me the details.” He sighs defeatedly.

“Can it wait until we’re in the bath.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting.

“I guess.” Izuku grabs you, pulling you into the shower with him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. He gives the top of your head a kiss.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

Happy fucking birthday to me. You smile to yourself.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: Difficult

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: the morning after.

warnings: 18+, explicit language and other things, not that descriptive but I am not leaving you with -implied- this time, nsfw

author’s note: Right, this is actually half of what I wanted to write for this chapter, but I thought that it might work better this way. A bit shorter one, 2.4k words, I hope you’re still gonna like it. 

Also - apparently all fandom writers share one brain cell, so let me just say that any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. (hi Tessa!)

The song for this part is Billy Raffoul - Difficult

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @cxnnienikas  @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway​ @the-gazette-of-tea @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something was off. The smell of bedsheets. Their texture. You rolled to the side, groaning slightly. A pulled muscle. Or two.

And a few other sore places.

Oh, right.

You heard the muffled sound of a door clicking shut and you glanced towards the entrance to the hotel room.

Neil looked like he’d just woken up himself, the lack of proper sleep painting dark circles under the blue eyes, a somewhat crumpled olive green t-shirt amplifying the usual dishevelance of his appearance. He caught your stare as he removed his shoes, balancing two cups of what you hoped was coffee in the other hand, and smiled lightly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but your timing is impeccable,” you laughed, stretching your arms and stifling a yawn. And then you smirked. “Glad to see it still holds true in the daylight.”

Neil snorted, his gaze lit up as you sat on the bed, not really bothered to cover yourself up.

“Coffee?” he said and handed you a cup.

“Yes, please and thank you.” You took the first sip and sighed with delight. “You’re an angel,” - a wicked grin crept on your face - “...a naughty one, but still.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the smug smile behind his cup.

“I did exactly what you suggested numerous times during the training,” he said, and then tugged the bottom lip between his teeth. “...and maybe elevated it here and there.”

You hummed in agreement as your sleep-deprived brain rolled a pretty vivid the best of tape; the string of flashbacks quickened your pulse more efficiently than the hot beverage in your hand.

“That you did, all right.”

Then your gazes met, and you pushed back the urge to curse. Yep, that was it. That scanning look. Vibe check. When both of you tried to figure out if the previous night changed anything between you. You wondered if he could see the silent plea in your eyes.

Please, don’t make this weird.

Neil hesitated, suddenly tense.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked sheepishly and took a swig from his cup, grimacing with regret as he evidently burned himself in effect.

“We had a fun night. Now we’re enjoying the coffee,” - pursing your lips, you tilted your head - “Did I miss anything?”

Seeing you all casual about it, Neil relaxed and exhaled slowly.

“I think that covers it.”

With the air cleared, you finished your coffee and put down the empty cup on the nightstand. Your clothes still scattered the floor, but there was something you needed to do first. You got up and stretched again, smirking as you caught the blue eyes wandering across your naked body.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” you said, walking past Neil on the way to the bathroom. “Feel free to join me.”

Soon the hot water was soothing the stiff muscles and you closed your eyes, blessing the minds behind the concept of the rain showers.

The glass door creaked behind you.

“There you are.” You smiled, pouring a bit of the shower gel on your hand and spreading it on your shoulder. “For a second you got me thinking you’re not gonna come.”

Neil scoffed, amused.

“As if I could say no to an offer like that.”

His hand replaced yours on the shoulder and you gave him the bottle, groaning quietly as he started slowly rubbing your neck. The tension eased under his fingers, and you took a step back, turning your head and reaching to his cheek. As Neil leaned in to kiss you, his hands slipped down your sides. then up your stomach, and when they cupped your breasts, you gasped breathlessly. He smiled against your lips, looping one arm across your waist and pulling you closer. 

You tangled your digits in wet blonde strands, tugging at them and shuddering as Neil stopped teasing your nipple and moved upward, wrapping the long fingers around your throat gently while he deepened the kiss. As if the act alone wasn’t enough to haze your mind, it awoke the memories from the night before, wiping any coherent thought from your head. Maybe that’s why a delicate stroke on your clit was almost enough to make your knees give out.

You whimpered and broke the kiss, then turned around and rested your forehead on his collarbone, catching your breath. Neil’s chest heaved under your palms as he embraced you, chuckling lightly.

“Still tired?” he asked, tucking dripping hair behind your ear and pressing his cheek to your temple.

“Not that tired,” you replied, smirking as you dragged your fingertips down his body.

A moan built in his throat but you were there to capture it with your lips. Your mind overcast with desire as you felt him getting even harder under your touch.

Even with the weary mood of the morning after, that pull between you was too strong to resist. And with your current state, it was so easy to get lost in each other’s closeness, in shared shaky breaths, in pleasure flowing through you to the rhythm of your bodies. Slow and careful at first, gentle brushes and gliding fingers - with the steam from the hot water enveloping you, the temperature was rising, and soon you wanted more. So did Neil.

He waited for a sign from you, and when your hips bucked and you started pushing against him, needy and desperate, his hold on you got firmer, his kisses more hungry and the pace of his thrust faster. The pulse pounded in your ears. Cold tiles against your back. You buried your face in his neck, gasping. Faster. The fire roamed through your veins, leaving you a moaning mess. Faster. The sounds of your bodies coming together filled the air. He cursed and pulled you closer.  Harder. You cried out, so close to the edge. Neil tilted your chin and when his lips met yours, the world dissolved and you came undone, clinging to him as he joined you with a guttural groan.

You rode out your highs, trembling in each other's arms, huffs and giggles breaking in between sloppy kisses.

Neil pulled back to take a look at you.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, running your fingers along his jawline. “Thank you.”

A smug smile dangled in the corner of his mouth.

“My pleasure.”

You scoffed and smacked his chest, making him laugh in response. Pressing his forehead to yours, he cupped your face as the other hand stroked your back in a soothing manner, and you closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh.

“I think I need a moment to recover,” you said, melting into his touch. “Feels like I could crash right here and now.”

Neil’s thumb brushed your cheek.

“Good thing we have some time before the meeting.”

“Wait, we...?” - you furrowed your brows, trying to focus - “What meeting?”

“With the boss. He left a message a few hours ago.”

You pushed him away, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you’re only telling me now?!”

He shrugged, unfazed by your outburst.

“Was there any appropriate moment earlier?”

“Okay, fair enough,” you said and pinched the bridge of your nose, collecting yourself. You’d been waiting for a chance to ask your questions for so long, and now that you finally could get it, you were exhausted from indulging yourself with a hook-up. A stellar one, hard to mark as a mistake, really, but a stupid thing nonetheless. “Do you know what it's about?”

Neil studied you intently, puzzled by the sudden mood swing.

“I have an idea or two, but you never know with him.”

“Perfect.” You drew a long breath, and then you felt a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The blue eyes finally found yours and you couldn’t hide that fond smile any longer. “Pass me that shampoo, will ya?”

-----

“So to recap - you have a tech that allows you to move backwards in time,” you said, combing a hand through your hair. “Sure, yeah, cool, makes total sense.”

You recalled Neil's reverse entropy theory and you looked at him just to catch his stare, checking on you if you made that connection. You knew better than to mention it aloud, chances were that he hadn’t told the boss about his slip-up.

“Glad to hear that it does.” The Protagonist smiled, but he was watching you closely as if he could see right through your bullshit.

Because to be completely honest, though? It didn’t. The whole concept was absolutely fucking mental. But at this point, all you could do was simply roll with it. Especially since it somehow explained why that goddamn lock they’d used to lure you into cooperation behaved the way it did.

You slumped on the chair, processing the new take on good ol’ reality. All the answers you got somehow led to even more questions, but before you could decide on one, The Protagonist leaned in.

“I asked you to come because I need to know if Neil is ready to check his skills in the field.”

You shrugged. “Depends. We’ve covered most mechanisms, but there are still things I need to introduce to him. But from the ones he knows? He’s good to go.” You smiled, your expression nothing but innocent as you glanced at your student. “He passed his recent stress test with top marks.”

If The Protagonist noticed the way Neil’s eyes widened at your words, he didn’t let it show.

“What if he had to be inverted?”

“Beats me,” you said and puffed your cheeks, exhaling slowly, considering the implications. “I assume that would mean the lock remains regular?”

The boss shook his head slightly. “I can’t guarantee that.”

You looked at Neil. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, pinching his little finger, the eyes darting between you and The Protagonist. Probably not too comfortable with being a passive subject of the conversation, bless his heart.

“Have you ever tried picking any of those locks that way?” you asked Neil, shifting on your chair to sit in a way that was supposed to make him feel more included in the discussion.

“Once, at the very beginning,” - he sent you a nervous smile - “but I failed miserably. Since then I’ve only practiced on the old locks in our regular setting.”

“I see,” you said, shifting your gaze to The Protagonist. “Then I can’t guarantee anything as well. We’ll add that to our training plan, when’s the first mission?”

The dark eyes bore into you.

“Yesterday.”

You scoffed, but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. You bit back a hysterical giggle and sighed.

“If I’d known about that from the start… about the mere possibility of training like that, I would’ve included it in the schedule a long time ago.”

“I had no idea it would take so much time.”

You didn’t know if that it was aimed at your teaching skills or at the pace Neil was learning, but it pissed you off enough to not care to ask for clarification. You weren’t having any of those.

“Listen, pal, you can’t learn it fast if you want to learn it well. Even with all the shortcuts provided, you need practice, and you can’t do that without spending hours polishing the skills enough to use it in the real world,” you huffed, glaring at the indifferent man behind the desk. “Neil can be exceptional all he wants, but he simply can’t cheat the process and skip right to the end.”

A light split-second brush against the side of your knee made you miss a beat. You blinked twice and you looked at Neil, but he was focused on the boss, using your moment of hesitation to chime in.

“Do you have any intel about locks on the location?”

The Protagonist nodded, handing him a folder.

You watched as the blue eyes flitted through the documents, the color draining from Neil’s face with every other page. Uh-oh. He cleared his throat.

“What’s our window to prepare?”

“Two days.”

Neil stifled a curse and rubbed his face. The boss fell back on his chair, reading enough from that reaction. You watched as they both considered the options.

“Is it just a b&e kind of assignment?” you asked, cutting into the heavy silence.

The Protagonist looked at you, puzzled.

“You mean breaking and entering? Yes, it should be, why?”

“Take me there, then.”

Neil straightened in his seat. “You can’t know for certain what we might find there,” he blurted out at the boss and turned to you. “No.”

But you ignored him, locking your eyes on The Protagonist.

“Seems like I’m your best chance.”

He couldn’t deny it, and from that brief glance at the information he’d collected on your jobs, you knew he got an idea about the things you were capable of. A certain level of flexibility was required in your line of work, and some of the stuff you’d gotten yourself into while working with Mahir proved you could get shit done, even if everything came crashing down on your head. Once or twice - quite literally. Ah, fun times. The Protagonist drummed the fingers on the desk, weighing his decision.

Meanwhile, you finally granted Neil some attention. He stared at you in silent protest, the features clouded with concern. The fact that he could be worried about you was utterly adorable, even if totally out of place. A corner of your lips twitched and you winked. Neil slouched against the back of the chair, rolling his eyes as a faint smile crept on his face.

Finally, The Protagonist made up his mind and nodded.

“All right. But I’m not sending you there without a basic training. Neil, I’ll ask Ives to clear his afternoon. He’s at the shooting range now, both of you should get there and start preparing straight away.”

“Oh, I know how to handle a gun,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. You’d rather jump straight into something more fun than that.

“Not an inverted one, you don’t.” Neil grinned and raised a brow, playful lights shining in his eyes. “Have you ever tried catching a bullet instead of shooting one?”

You fought the urge to massage your temples. Of course.

And then you beamed, barely containing your excitement.

That was more like it.

(next chapter ->)

[unholyplumpprincess]

Bratty Pup

For @ssadists !

Summary: Reader is being an absolute brat in the ring, resulting in Bloodhound teaching them a lesson. And then reminding them of said lesson later. Namely with their fingers. And a familiar red dildo.

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Bloodhound has a vulva and uses a strap on, Reader is gender neutral but has top surgery and a vulva, Reader’s parts are described as cock/dick/hole, knotting plus creampies, Bloodhound’s infamous werewolf strap returns, reader is called things like ‘little one’ and ‘pup’, breeding kink, Reader also is mentioned to have nipple piercings

Words: 5.3k

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You were a menace, to put it lightly.  

You knew you were one, and yet, somehow, against all odds Bloodhound had still seen something in you. Something worthy to win your affection and attention over. You were glad for it; After all it wasn’t like you hadn’t been pining for them for a while. Even before you competed to enter into the games.  

You suppose something about the mask and mystery had been the peak of it all for most people, but you being a new competitor and them being a seasoned veteran in these blood sports had been intimidating.  

Yet, they’d welcomed you kindly, even explaining to you any questions you’d anxiously had like ship rotations or how the compound worked. Even sillier ones like if the food in the fridge was fair game or if you were about to get a wingman between your eyes the second your fingers tapped a lid.  

You suppose you’d fallen for their kindness first. Out of the ring, that’s all they were. Around the compound they would help prepare meals with  Makoa  in the kitchen, or sometimes you’d catch them sitting on the couch in the loungeroom with Crypto’s cat- Isabella Marie- perched on their lap and purring up a storm. They exuded this kind, soft energy, speaking coolly and calmly. Yet sometimes you’d catch them laugh, feel your heart constrict, and weigh in on those emotions. Wondering if something would become of them.  

Now? Well, you didn’t have to do any wondering at all.  

~Rest under the cut~

Now, you could so much as walk up to them and they would set their book off to the side and extend their arms out to you so you could clamber into their lap, nestled into their arms. Now, you could hook pinkies with them quietly and know they would follow you back to your bedroom. Now, they would cup your face adoringly, even if you couldn’t see past the lenses of their goggles in the ring. Now, you’d wake up to pecks of kisses on your face in the same pattern: Forehead, nose, one on each cheek, and on your chin before finally capturing your lips.  

Now, now when you two were alone, you memorized every shape of their body with your lips.  

You knew you were lucky being able to catch them like you had. Other legends had explained to you that Bloodhound, for at least three seasons, had taken to wearing their gear around the compound. Heavy full gear, mask and all, without wanting to mingle much with anyone. You’d been told that they were still kind, still calm, yet they seemed skittish like a cat. Only taking to talking to their ravens, Arthur and Munnin, whilst dodging everyone else besides the polite head nod of acknowledgement another legend’s way.  

Yet when you’d come, after a few weeks of them seeming to disappear, you’d find them out in the compound elsewhere. With a lower face mask on of some sort, whether just a fashionable fabric piece or something akin to their respirator but looking more...punk-like. Regardless, you’d seen more than you had expected to ever in your life.  

And now, you knew every bit of them as the back of your hand. Every tattoo, every scar, every clouded pattern of vitiligo etched into their flesh. Every piercing, every jump of their cooled skin, every ticklish spot that made them squirm and push at you with laughter buzzing through their veins. Every snarl they’d release if you teased them too much.  

You suppose you were an even bigger menace than you’d thought you might be. You just loved to push their buttons sometimes, just to see their reactions. They were always cool and calm under pressure, so patient. But sometimes...  

Sometimes you liked to see them break.  

Often times it was things like tickling them. Or trying to get their attention when they were reading. Or things like kissing their neck, waiting until you felt the feeling of their fingers flexing on your hips and the low growl in their throat before you’d wiggle yourself out and dart away. That is, if they didn’t catch onto your game quickly and held you in place.  

You liked to see their eyes turn dangerous, to hear them growl and to threaten you lowly. Often times you’d hear a snarl in your ear if you were teasing, their voice lowly murmuring to you, “Careful, little one, you are playing a dangerous game.” As if that wouldn’t just make you soaked and want to play this little game even more.  

Maybe if they stopped having such good reactions you wouldn’t feel the need to do these sorts of things .  

Like now.  

Now, you two were a duo in the blistering heat of King’s Canyon. And well, you’re not exactly behaving yourself. Not like you promised to, anyway.  

Everything Bloodhound has said to you, you’ve had something to say back. They ping a location and gesture with a, “I have chosen our next location for battle.”? You have something to counter it. Whether it’s with telling them you’re going to loot at a nearby location on the way, or that you think your best new location will be juuuuuust fifty meters to the right of where they originally pinged. 

Or if they tell you to heal up, even if it’s just that small amount you have missing from your shields, you’ll sigh dramatically and go, “So bossy today, Hound.” And though they may not reply to you, you can see how their head tips towards you. You can feel their eyes behind their lenses sizing you up, as if trying to be sure this is the game you want to play. Right here. Right now.  

When Bloodhound starts to test their theories, you know it’s working. When you’re talking idly and they tell you to shush just to see if you’ll backtalk when normally you’re a perfectly obedient partner even in the ring. When you whine back at them with a reply insinuating you would NOT shut up, you know their cogs are turning.   

It isn’t until there’s ten squads left and Bloodhound tells you to pick up the pace in your casual walk do you say the final words that finally breaks them.  

“Make me.”  

You can practically hear the string snap between you two. You watch their back for the signs of their shoulders rising, the tightening of their hands on their weapon. You feel utter glee when you hear them take a slow, deep breath and let it out as if trying to compose themself. You near about squirm where you stand as you both take a pause, your boots sinking into the mud of the quiet, chirping swamps around you.  

You really think they’re going to maintain their control, watching them roll their neck and slouch their shoulders as they compose themself. It almost disappoints you, an apology starting to curl in your chest when you start to think maybe they weren’t in the mood.  

But then, they turn right back around, marching towards you and grabbing the back of your shirt to drag you into one of the buildings in the back. The cameras don’t normally lie around the edges of King’s Canyon, no one normally  trudges  the edges around here and the ring doesn’t close on the edges either. The cameras focus on more action filled areas.  

But...the idea of being caught still makes your belly flutter.  

Bloodhound, normally kind and composed, snarls as they push you into the building. Your back hits the corner wall, a giggle bubbling from your throat in delight at their roughness as they stalk closer. Your laughter comes to a halt when their petite, strong frame presses to yours, their thigh shoving its way between yours. One of their gloved hands rests by your body to press to the wall, the other grabbing your jaw roughly.  

They force you to look at them, seeing your reflection in their lenses and seeing your own flushed face is embarrassing. You let out a soft noise, eyes fluttering when your hips roll down against their thigh out of habit. Your cock is engorged by now, pressing against your pants’ zipper line and making you shudder at the sensation.  

“You have been a brat today.” They murmur, their voice even and  inquisitive  almost, as if they’re mocking you in a way. Bloodhound gently tilts your head down, forcing you to follow where they move you and you whimper as they grip your jaw a little harder. “Do you wish for me to make an example of you? Here?” 

You try to nod, but find yourself unable to move. Your throat constricts, the words too embarrassing to admit so all you do is make this soft sound akin to an embarrassed squeak. Something you wish didn’t come out of you- you sounded like a frightened bunny.  

“Your words, little one.” Bloodhound once again repeats, their voice even toned. And it occurs to you why quickly- they're asking your consent. If this is what you were aiming for and wanted. They were always so kind, making sure this was mutually wanted, even if sometimes you wished they didn’t ask and would just rip at your clothes and take what they wanted.  

“Yes! Yes, fuck, Hound- yes. I was trying t-to--” Your voice waivers into a moan when their thigh presses up higher against you, your hips grinding across it like a desperately horny animal. Like a dog, you think, with an embarrassed reflection back on a few nights ago where you wore a collar.  

“Trying to test my patience?” They help you finish, their grip easing on your jaw and leaving pleasant throbbing where they’d gripped. “Trying to get punished in the arena, where you could be caught?” They press to you, watching as you helplessly babble ’yes, yes, yes’ as you rock against their thigh.  

Pathetic.  

“You are now so eager to be obedient, my love, what has changed?” Bloodhound’s voice is a tease, thicker with the respirator on and seeming to give an edge to their voice. Your toes curl in your boots, rocking your hips back and forth across their helpfully supplied thigh. It’s almost too much friction between your pants and the thick fabric of theirs. You let out a  high-pitched  moan, turning your head to the side to expose your neck and hearing them swear under their own breath at the sight of blatant submission.  

When they huff, you hope they’re giving in. Praying they’ll spare you the teasing and the delicious tone of their voice that blesses your ears like liquid sex. You whimper when their hand slides down your body, pressing on your chest to tell you without a word to stay still. Bloodhound carefully moves their leg from where you’re desperately humping, another thing that causes you to whine, but they shush you gently.   

A tug at the fly of your pants and the undoing of your belt makes your insides flutter. Even more when you hear them unstrapping the velcro of their glove, moving to tuck it into their pocket.  

Their bare, cool fingers tug your underwear down with your pants to mid-thigh. You keep your legs spread like they left you, enough for their hand to slide down your lower abdomen, teasing at the mound of your curls before fingers slip down to frame your cock. You gasp sharply, hips pushing forward, but their other, gloved hand keeps rested on your chest to keep you back against the wall.  

“Behave.” They remind you, their voice a low tone that makes you shudder. You immediately stop trying to press, feeling your patience slimming and your hope brightening that maybe, just maybe they’d have mercy on you.  

Bloodhound’s fingers dip into your natural slick, drawing back upwards to your engorged cock. They frame it between two of their fingers, gently jerking as the hand on your chest makes to tuck under your shirt. It travels up, briefly feeling along one of the crescent shaped scars under your chest before gently pressing so they may thumb at your pierced nipple. Your head  thunks  back on the wall at the sensation, your hips naturally humping into their hand desperately with each tug.  

“Fuck- Hound, please, God, please- fingers—in-inside, please, please, please -” You babble mindlessly, wishing so badly you could kiss them. Wishing so much you could cling to them, but you know better, keeping your hands flat to the wall behind you, fingers scrabbling against the wood at the sensations. Reminding you of where you are. That if anyone decided to take a pause in swamps, you could get caught.  

“Inside? So greedy, little one. And to think just moments ago you were being a brat.” They chide you playfully, a cock to their head that reminds you of a dog and makes your heart flutter at the familiarity of it.  

Soon, they move their body to rest more in front of you, pinching and tugging at your nipple as their fingers dip down to curl inside of you. Two fingers press at your hole, easily slipping inside and their palm pressing to your cock.  

Your legs are quaking with the effort to keep yourself up. You already feel so close with their fingers curling and fucking inside of you. It doesn’t help with the sensitivity of your chest. Your body is shaking, aching from standing up as they work their talented fingers into you. To make matters worse they abandon your chest. Sliding their gloved hand down until they can bend their wrist that’s fingering you to make room for their other hand to gently tug your cock with their thumb and index finger. The roughness of their gloves eased by the slick you produce.  

It leaves their hand pressing up against your g-spot perfectly with the angle of their fingers. You can feel your wetness dripping down their hand, vaguely hearing the soft snarls hinting that they’re enjoying the sight. It makes your body feel even warmer with the flush spreading across your chest.  

Their voice finally makes your eyes flutter open to look at them helplessly. You can hear the grin in their tone as they begin, “Are you close, my love?” When you nod helplessly, they make a soft, sympathetic noise at you, rolling your little cock between their fingers gently just to make you sob out. “It is a pity you were such a spoiled brat today.”  

Wait. What?  

Shit- no!  

Your confirmation comes when their hand moves from your cock, their fingers still fucking into you with your slick sloppily dripping down onto their wrist. You whimper out at the loss on your cock, but you could still get off like this- if they weren’t slowing down and only rubbing- COME ON!  

“Aw, you look so pitiful, my love. Perhaps if you had not been such  smá   skítur  you would not be feeling this loss now.” They continue, fake sympathy edging their tone as their talented fingers quirk upwards to still keep you interested, rubbing at your frontal walls. It still makes you twitch, feeling like you’re riding the edge of those desperate waves as tears prick your eyes.  

They continue, “You may choose. You may cum now,” You whimper at the thought, but they continue as if you hadn’t made a sound. “Or you may get properly bred later. When you have surely decided you shall be an obedient pup for me.”   

Oh, that isn’t fair .  

But you manage to, against all odds, sob out, “I want to be good for you!” And near about cry at the loss of their fingers. But when they drag them up to your face and nudge at your lips, you part your lips obediently, suckling and licking their fingers clean with a shy glance at the lenses of their goggles.  

“Good pup.” Bloodhound praises you, and you feel that maybe you did the right thing deciding to wait.  

Even if it’s hell when they help you pull your clothing back on, fixing up their gloves and directing you on where to go again. You’re so engorged and wet that each movement feels like hell. And you know they know, knowing they could just smell you inches away, lingering on their skin.  

Torture for you both.  

--  

You two end up in second place, Lifeline and Mirage take championship. Elliott is as perky as ever about it, happily yelling about celebrating with an afterparty at his bar. He’s so friendly and joyous, talking about free drinks as he throws his arms around you and Ajay’s shoulders, that you have to accept. Even if you’re thinking about how hopeful you are for Bloodhound to finish the job from earlier.  

You can only hope that they won’t take the time to tease you all night at the bar and will drag you off back to one of your rooms and give you what they promised.  

The idea of being dragged off in a hurry makes you squirm. You liked when they were desperate, it happened so few times. Whether it was to see you under them or if they were needy and finally let you touch them for the night. The idea of being on your knees and tasting them makes you squirm in your seat at the bar now. Rubbing your thighs together and slowly exhaling through your nose to try and relax your nerves.  

You hadn’t touched the drink Elliott had given to you. Instead, you were more focused on trying to find Bloodhound. Parties weren’t their scene, but they did enjoy the company, as they had told you. They said they were coming, and in the back of your mind you knew they were here. You just had that feeling around you.  

You knew when you were being watched.  

It sends shivers down your spine pleasantly, feeling all too like you were playing the role of prey. Your eyes scan over the tables, the bar, trying to find the familiar red hair or glasses. But, nothing.  

If they wanted to be found, you would have found them. It was that simple.  

“Ey, buddy! What’s up, don’t like your drink? I can make you something new?” Elliott’s voice snaps you out of your scanning as you turn to your right to see him beaming at you. There’s a tinge of anxiety in his eyes, and you offer a smile back to try and aid in it.  

“No! No, not that at all. I think I actually have a bit of a headache. Do you have anywhere quiet I can be for a little?” You offer, feigning a wince as you press your hand to your temple. Understanding immediately crosses his kind eyes as he scoots out of the booth to allow you to get out.  

“Yeah! Of course, the backroom should be nice and quiet for- for you! There’s some pills under the bar if it gets too unbe — uneb — unber —if it gets too painful.” He manages to get out, beaming all the way through it. You can’t help it, his smiles are too infectious, feeling yourself smiling back and thanking him. Briefly forgetting the whole  reason  you were trying to escape was because you didn’t know where your predator of a spouse was.  

You’re still aching between your legs. The memory had carried with you all day. Even when you changed into more casual clothes of a big hoodie and torn up jeans. You’d considered taking the time to get yourself off, but with your luck, Bloodhound would have known somehow and prolonged touching you.  

You’re mindlessly thinking, unaware of your surroundings as you head to the backroom. It’s a darker room with a few dim red lights keeping it lit up. There’s a couch on either side of the room and a big round table in the center with a few chairs stacked in the corner of the room. There’s another bar in here, but it looks more set up for coffee and snacks than drinking.  

As soon as you cross the  threshold  to get inside, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Instantly you feel your hood being snatched, pushing you forward with the sound of the door being shut and locked behind you heard. You yelp in surprise from the push, grabbing onto the table you were thrust towards and feeling a body crowd up behind you.  

“You look frightened, beloved.” Comes Bloodhound’s voice behind you, their voice a low purr. Your shoulders immediately relax, but then they stiffen right back up when a hand reaches around to curl around your throat. They don’t squeeze, just holding you to their smaller body. Their other hand sneaks under your hoodie, wasting no time as they start to undo your pants, pulling them down to mid-thigh roughly. “Were you looking for me?”  

“Y-yes- are you seriously trying to fuck me in the- ah!” Your tease is cut off when they shove your boxers down. Their hands are covered with fingerless leather gloves, making the smooth glide of their cool fingers all the sweeter when their thumb and forefinger gently squeeze your cock. They roll it between their fingers, sliding their palm back on your mound to force the hood to slide back to reveal it in its fullness.  

“You did not seem shy at the implication of such acts in the arena.” They murmur behind you, their chin tucking over your shoulder from the way your back is arched, allowing them to reach. Bloodhound hums as your fingers grip tighter on the table, knowing they’re watching you making it all the worse. Your face burns, your body humming with sensitivity from your delayed orgasm earlier.  

You’re completely soaked, even after the shower you’d had earlier. You feel sticky and messy on their fingers as they jerk you off. The feeling of their other hand squeezing at the sides of your throat lightly in a claiming fashion only leaving you messier. A low whine leaves you, your hips pressing forward and body already shaking.  

“Ah, you do not wish to make too much noise, little one. There are worse things that could happen than to be caught on camera.” They tease you, lips brushing your ear to murmur lowly and you feel heat roll down your spine. Your mind flickers to a shameful fantasy of being on a leash, surrounded by others while Bloodhound praises you-  

Your hips press back into them as a wave of pleasure  signals  you’re already close. You’re vaguely aware that the front of their pants isn’t flat, but rather bulged out slightly with something hard and pliable.  

Your face burns when you realize their intentions weren’t to tease you now and fuck you at home later. They wanted you here, like this.  

Vulnerable.  

Bloodhound’s teeth tease the lobe of your ear with a nip, murmuring quietly to you. “You may cum as many times as you like. You were so good for me. A good dog.” Their voice is hot against your flesh. It’s all too much.  

As soon as your lips part to scream out, their hand on your throat raises quickly to smack over your mouth. They press you back against their body as you cum, your body convulsing and your legs shaking as they gently jerk you through it. Their mouth has gone to your neck instead, kissing and sucking a hickey into your flesh there as they tip your head slightly to the side to have better access.  

You’re dizzy after you cum, your hips fucking against their hand without you even thinking about it. You vaguely are aware of them cooing to you, feeling their hand leaving your oversensitive cock to tug your boxers and jeans down a bit lower. You pathetically whimper behind their hand, but that soon changes when they’re pushing you down onto the table. Your front pressed flat and your ass exposed for them.  

“Color?” Bloodhound murmurs to you, their hand sliding down along your clothing covered back until they reach the swell of your ass. You hear the tell-tale sound of them removing their glove before their cool fingers return to you, cupping your ass but not moving.   

“Green.” You chirp back in a hazy, dreamy tone. You go so far as to shake your ass a little, resulting in them playfully swatting in a manner that doesn’t hurt. You grin faintly, but turn your head and pout before they can start up again. “Can I get a kiss?”  

For a moment, the air shifts from predator and prey to gentle. They laugh softly, the sound warming your heart with the honey tone of their voice. “Yes, my love. But do not distract me any more.” Before they lean over you and to the side where you’ve got your lips pouted and head turned to the side, meeting them in a sloppy, chaste kiss.  

You whine at them for more, but they peck your nose instead. Only allowing you to get a brief glance at them with their lower face mask tugged around their neck, their red lensed glasses resting lower on their nose, and their hair pulled into a fluffy ponytail.  

The air shifts again as they get back into character. You keep yourself flat to the table as they keep a hand to your back to press you there. Their other hand trails down your ass, fitting between your legs and teasing two fingers at your hole. When they easily slip in, they coo at you in a mocking tone, “So eager even now. You are so wet, beloved.”  

You nod immediately, murmuring pleads as they curl and stretch their fingers inside of you. When they fit in three, you’re on your tiptoes, absolutely positive you’re drooling on your hoodie’s arm. You sob out when they twist their fingers, spreading them apart to scissor them into you to make room for a fourth finger. That’s when you make sure to bury your face into your arms, your voice starting to spill out of you without permission.  

“Look at you, you poor thing,” They coo at you again, mock sympathy in their tone as they finger fuck you. “How noisy you are. It is almost as if you wish to be caught.”  

You try to shake your head, resulting in the hand that was resting on your back to curl into your hair. They yank your head back, keeping you from burying into your arms as moans pour from your lips. Your face immediately flushes, both your hands flying to your mouth as your eyes about cross when they pick up the pace.  

You cum again from their fingers alone, your body trembling as you press hard over your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your breathing is heavy through your nose, heard shakily through each exhale. They finally let go of your hair, letting your body go forward so you could bury into your arms again.  

When Bloodhound’s fingers leave you, you hear them unzipping their own pants. You stay perfectly still, hearing the uncap of lubricant and the wet noise of them sliding it onto their cock. You can’t see which one they have strapped on today, but you have a feeling you knew if they had to use four fingers to get you ready. Especially when they take their fingers covered in lube this time to fit inside of you, gently fucking them into you for a few thrusts before pulling away.  

It’s one of their bigger dildos, that much you can feel. The tapered tip tells you it’s one of their werewolf dildos. The knot was as thick as their fist, the rest of the length going from three to about four fingers thick. They let the head press to your hole, their hands grabbing your hips once it presses in and guiding you into taking it.  

Each press is a stretch, but once you’re finally able to take it down to the beginning of the knot, that’s when they start to fuck you. Their hips slam back against you, the knot pressing at your hole but unable to enter without their aid. You’re a mess when they wrap their hand back around your throat, pulling you up to their chest as they fuck up into you with soft growls. You keep one hand over your mouth to try and be quiet, going cross eyed when their other hand reaches down to start jerking you off in time with their thrusts.  

You think you’ve died and gone to Heaven in the form of Bloodhound fucking you. They’re murmuring by your ear in their mother tongue, words you can make out from constantly hearing them being ‘good’ and ‘my love’ and ‘little one’. But soon their voice dies out, more focused on biting and sucking dark bruises along your neck. Going high enough to just under your ear so you couldn’t hide them.  

The wet slapping between you two sounds much louder in this smaller room. The creaking of the table doing no favors to hide your muffled cries. You’re so overstimulated you’d almost forgotten you weren’t in the safety of your own home.  

When Bloodhound finally unlatches from your throat, they’re growling in your ear now. They rarely get filthy except for occasions like this. Murmuring between each thrust, “Do you wish for me to breed you, little pup?” The hand that had been jerking you off comes up, pressing to your lower abdomen and making you dizzy at the idea. “How beautiful you will be swollen with my pups.”  

A  high-pitched  noise leaves you in reply, squirming on their cock as Bloodhound starts to slam a little harder, feeling the knot pressing at you and stretching you. You whimper, shaking your head and crying into your hand, “C-can’t! I can’t- it won’t fit- Hound, please, I’m so close-” You start to sob out, but they shush you.  

“You can take it.” They promise without a second beat, yanking you back against them as they press insistently forward until you start to widen around it. Your free hand scrabbles at the table for purchase. “You  will  take it.”  

And you do, with one more thrust of their hips as the knot pops into you. It’s all too much when their hand returns to your cock, letting you hump pathetically into their palm as you cum this time. Vaguely you’re aware of the feeling of being full too, and you know they had a cum tube attached to this cock but you didn’t think they’d use it.  

When you’re done and properly fucked, you flop belly down onto the table with your knees weak. You’re panting, sweaty, a mess. You can feel them pull out of you, a grunt leaving you when you feel a smaller object being inserted into your hole. Your boxers and pants are pulled up, an affectionate double smack left on your ass that makes you softly laugh.  

“A plug,” Bloodhound speaks as if reading your questioning mind, their hand going under your hoodie to soothingly rub your back in a way that makes you immediately content. “ So  you do not spill a single drop. I am not through with you.”  

You whine a reply, not trusting your voice to speak. You go pliantly as you’re lifted up, tossed over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and brought to one of the couches. Gently, you’re set in their lap sideways, allowing you to curl your face into their neck and nuzzle there affectionately. You’re vaguely aware of them rubbing your back in circles, tipping their head to press a gentle kiss to  your  forehead.  

“Mmmh- Hound?” You start softly, nosing at their neck affectionately.  

“Yes, my love?”  

“Can I have another kiss now?”  

Bloodhound lets out a whoosh of breathy laughter at that. Watching you adjust to sit up a little before they gently cup your cheek, stroking over your cheekbone as their eyes linger on your lips for just a moment. You can feel their breath fanning across your lips just before they meet in a soft, gentle kiss.  

When they break apart, you whine out, “Another!”  Again,  and again until they’re attacking your face with little pecks all over until you’re squealing with laughter.  

How you loved them.  

[flowercrown-bucky]

The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen? 

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left."  Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

[xxtha-blog]

So apperently I wrote a oneshot fanfic and forgot about it for almost 2 years

And because it's comedy fucking gold, and also some quality post-comic Ace content, I thought I'd share it with you people here.

Without further adieu, may I present to you

A Casual Encounter With Ace

Ink knew very little of Ace. He had met him once, briefly, in the last moments before his AU disappeared into nothingness, Ace sneaking through the portal Dream had created and slipping away from the destruction of his own home like it was nothing more than an average Saturday. Ink barely had the chance to talk to him, didn’t even know his name, he just knew that there was a flamboyant top hat wearing skeleton that enjoyed stealing things and harassing Dream, prancing around the multiverse and causing chaos with no restrictions. Of course, Ink planned to catch him… eventually… if he hadn’t forgotten… multiple times. But it was Ace who seemed to catch him instead.

  Ink had been sitting in the snow, crouched behind the trees of Underswap, checking up on the stability of the timeline, when he heard a voice behind him. At first, he thought it was Blue, the only one who would know to look for him there, but the accent threw him off. Ink turned slowly, curious, and saw the black and red skeleton leaning against his staff behind him, smiling modestly as he surveyed the rest of the underground as Ink did.

  Ink paused for a second. “Hey– Don’t I know you…?” He tapped a pencil against his chin, working with all his might to remember.

  “Perhaps, dear sir, perhaps indeed, for I am quite popular, simply ask my wonderous fans, who may be reading this right now! Which does remind me, do you ever realize that we transcend not only drawings and comic books, but also code, writing, and animations. It’s quite crazy when you think about it, I mean, just look at you. What? One of the most popular characters in the entire fandom created by a mere teenager! Mind boggling and simply astounding, our existence, both of us in fact, relies only on two simple teenagers bringing us to life.” Ace talked mellifluously, his accent smooth and precise, as though someone had mashed together a French and British accent and added a gay flare to it. He talked incredibly fast, as though to confuse everyone with his slur of words, despite them not being slurred in the slightest.

  Ink stood up, brushing the snow off his sweater. “Wait a second!” He glanced up again his eyes widening. “Aren’t you that magician guy?!”

 Ace tilted his head, intrigued.

   “Aha!” Ink declared in triumph. “I finally found you!”

  “Magician guy is quite vague. And a guy, no, no, dear sir, not at all, I simply am I, an illusionist, a magician, a slight bit insane, but far saner than you, so I must ask for you to be a tad bit more specific for fear I may misinterpret what you wish to say and be unable to reply!” Ace spun his staff around, giving Ink a slight smirk.

  “You’re from that AU- Oh what was it.” Ink spun his hands through the air, churning his memory around. “Magicwhatever, Lucktale, Underchance, Chancyluck, Chance, Chance something, Chancetale-? CHANCETALE!” He put his hands on his hips proudly.

  “A dead name, no?” Ace raised his eye sockets into a quizzical expression.

  “I mean, yeah, but you’re still here, which means you’re screwing up timelines. Which means I gotta stop ya!” With a quick flip of his arm behind his head, Ink pulled his paintbrush out in front of him and pointed it towards Ace.

  “Stop me? Stop me! Oh, how wonderful!” Ace’s eyes lit up as he spun on his heel with glee.

  “You’re supposed to be worried,” Ink pointed out. “Like, oh no he’s going to catch me?! Whatever shall I do! And then I go, heck yeah I’m going to catch you! Because I’ve got a super cool paintbrush!”

  “I dare say you do not.”

  “What do you mean? My paintbrush is awesome, I mean just look at it–" he stopped. "Where’s my paintbrush?” Ink’s hands were empty, his fingers grasping at the cold air around them and nothing more. He wondered if his memory had lapsed again, but he could have sworn he had just been holding it. He reached back only to grasp at the air once more.

  Ace casually spun the paintbrush in his hands, still standing stationary a dozen or so feet away, studying the fine patterns on the metal clasps. “Quite a nice paintbrush, indeed, I do not disagree with that, however, you do not have it, therefore your statement was false.” Without another word, the paintbrush disappeared into thin air, and Ace merely tilted his top hat.

  Ink started to take things a little more seriously, his smile fading. He straightened. “This’ll be interesting.”

  “Oh, tis always interesting when I’m here! Just ask your dear friend Dream!”

  “We’re not really friends,” Ink said with a shrug. “He just happens to be useful sometimes.”

  “Oh my! What wonderful news we have here! I’ll be sure to keep it in mind to use against you so that I can slowly break apart your relationship until you are both mortal enemies in which case I can use your turmoil to my advantage!” He clasped his hands together, smiling softly, before adding, "If need be."

  Ink stared for a second. “You know if you really want to be evil, you shouldn’t announce what you’re going to do out loud.”

  “Evil? No, I’m not evil. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever consider myself to be evil, for that would mean I am profoundly immoral, and although I am profound, immoral I am not. I know precisely what is right and wrong, and good and bad, and have no trouble discerning between the two. I simply choose to do good and choose to do bad based on the situation and outcome it will provide me, and dear sir, it is quite a bore to be simply one or the other, is it not? I mean, you’re one to speak, think of the things you have done and the people you have hurt for your own benefit, quite chaotic indeed, but not evil. Few would call the fabulous Ink evil. Therefore I am not evil. I am just spontaneous, whether that be something pleasant or something disagreeable.”

  “You really do talk a lot,” Ink said, crossing his arms.

  “Tis a showman thing.”

  “Showman?”

  “Oh! Would you like to see a show?!”

  “Not really. I was in the middle of–”

  Ace clapped his hands together cutting Ink off, his staff forming between his palms as he pulled them apart. He twirled his staff like a baton before stamping it down into the snow and pulling his top hat off his head, taking a slight bow before beginning, “A magic show! For the fabulous Encre!”

  Ace began to perform his dazzling illusions. As real as reality, yet as mad as a dream. He swept up beside Ink and before Ink could say a word, slipped his scarf right over his head and turned it a kaleidoscope of brown butterflies. Ink went to protest, but a butterfly zipped over top of his mouth and turned into a brown piece of duct tape. The rest of the butterflies froze, falling to ice cubes on the ground before bursting into tiny glass shards that glimmered with little lights.

  “Butterflies were not meant for the underground! How unfortunate. The terms and conditions said nothing about turning to glass, however! Then again, I did not read them. Alas, now I must clean this all up.” Ace spun back around Ink, standing over top of the pile of glass shards.

  Ink shouted, but his words came out as muffled gibberish. He tried to pull the duct tape off, but it refused to budge. He waved his arms around, exasperated.

  “What’s that dear sir? You wish to see more magic tricks? Well, I wish to perform more as well!” Ace spread his arms out, the glass shards levitating off the ground around him before spinning into a small ball and transforming into a lightbulb above Ace's fingertips. He caught it out of the air, studying it closely, before looking back up at Ink.

  “I would put this above my head and say I do so happen to have an idea, but that would be terribly cliché, would it not?”

  “Mphfffff!”

  “I wholeheartedly agree! I’ll put it inside my mouth instead!”

  Ace slipped the lightbulb between his teeth, smiling deviously.

  “Now dear sir,” he said with zero hindrance, despite the lightbulb clamped between his teeth. “It is a well-known fact that when one puts a lightbulb inside their mouth, it shall go in quite fine and then never ever come out again in one piece! Today I am here to prove that theory wrong and promote the putting of light bulbs in your mouth everywhere!” Ace let out a small laugh before quickly inhaling the lightbulb.

  Ink’s eyes narrowed, giving up his attempts to talk through the duct tape.

  “Where ever has it gone? Ah! I know!” Ace reaches a hand inside his left eye socket and pulls the lightbulb into the place his heart-shaped pupil should have been.

  “And now to turn it on!”

  With a slight flick of his wrist, Ace summoned an egg out of midair, then cracked it against the nearest tree. From the cracked shell sprang a toaster, which Ace caught in his hands as though he had done this many a time. He quickly plugged the toaster into the tree and waited a few seconds, but nothing seemed to happen.

   Ink watched, both baffled and annoyed, only able to express his feelings through a few grunts and shakes of his head. Ink had seen many things over his life, AUs full of nothing but Sanses, characters made of watermelons, atrocious crossovers, but nothing quite as strange as this.

  “Oh, I see what I’m doing wrong! Forgive me, dear sir, I have never used a toaster in my life! I run solely off of white chocolate!” Ace unplugged the toaster from the tree and threw it as far as he could muster. “Farewell, dear toast maker. I shall miss thee.”

  He reached inside the small red pouch on his shirt, barely bigger than a golf ball, and pulled a full sized hair dryer.

  Why do you have a hairdryer?! Ink shouted, his eyes wide, but it simply came out as “Wff duh vu hvv a her dyr?!”

  “For this, dear sir, why else.” Ace put the end of the hairdryer up to his eye and turned it on. It wasn’t plugged into anything, the cord dangling around Ace's ankles. As the hairdryer whirred to life, the light bulb flickered on.

  Ace pulled the hair dryer away, making it disappear into a flurry of little pink sparkles before taking a long bow, one of his eyes now made of a little yellow glowing light bulb.

  Ink clapped sarcastically.

  “Why thank you! Thank you! Truly an amusing time we've had here today!” He pranced over to Ink, patting him on the head twice. When Ink tried to grab him, his entire vision spun around and he was suddenly facing the complete opposite direction.

  “Now, now, that’s no way to treat someone who just performed for you.”

  Ink turned on his heels, looking around for Ace, but he was nowhere to be seen. The piece of duct tape had vanished.

  “Farewell, dear Ink, until you wish for another magic show!”

  The voice came from nowhere and echoed throughout the trees before fading into nothingness. On the ground, there was a small paper card. Ink bent over and picked it up, flipping it open. Inside was a tiny brush, smaller than a thumbtack, taped to the inside of the card with a small heart and delicate cursive handwriting: I believe this belonged to you?

[geekyjoys]

Future Seido Positions (an Analysis)

So,,, it’s probably not going to happen for a WHILE in the manga, but I was just speculating with a couple of friends about what the future Seido lineup would be. You know, after Miyuki and the other third-years graduate (or at least retire from the team). I’ve been looking around a bit, and I haven’t seen another post quite like this. If there is one out there, I’m sorry!

So, just to give this a bit of structure, I’ll first go through all the positions in order. Maybe next, I’ll talk about batting lineups and/or Captainship. I have some cool theories about those.

This is very long and very analytical/technical. I would also like to add that this is very much speculation. 

This contains some light spoilers about the matches in the manga. If you’ve only seen the anime, read with caution. It’s not too bad—tbh, if you haven’t read the manga, you probably won’t even notice it—but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Pitcher:

Sawamura

Furuya

Toujou

Kuki

Asada

Kaneda

For the ace number, I honestly don’t know who it could go to. Both Sawamura and Furuya are nearing peak performance. I think Sawamura has a stronger chance because he seems like the “ace figure” and can inspire the team naturally. Though Furuya’s pitching is arguably stronger and more overwhelming, I just don’t get the same vibe. This is me looking at both the anime and the manga; Sawamura’s pitching seems to inspire better batting and base-running (like in the games against Norikane and Seihou where his pitching caused the batters to perform better).

Toujou is finally getting acknowledged by the coach as a pitcher and I’m so happy for him! As for Kuki and Asada, I’m thinking that something similar will happen to them—they’ll probably be put in the outfield due to their strong arms and dependable aim while they develop more as pitchers. Both left and right field are covered by third-years, so I can see Kuki and Asada taking over those positions, while also occasionally covering for center field whenever Toujou pitches.

Kaneda is currently #18 on the roster, and usually plays right field. We haven’t gotten much development about him, but he is on the first-string, and he has played a few innings as a reserve pitcher.

Also, just a note, we actually have enough pitchers to fulfill the six-man rotation system that is generally used in the NPB! Not pertinent by any means, but still kinda cool.

Catcher:

Okumura

Yui

Kariba

I don’t think Kariba is going to get #2 after Miyuki leaves. It sounds harsh to say, and he’s such a sweet boi (Season 2, episode 22 when he cried after Sawamura learned the changeups) but he doesn’t stand out at all. Neither the manga nor the anime are giving him focus, and he doesn’t have any special skills.

For Okumura and Yui, I think it depends on who becomes the ace. Okumura was developed as sort of the “next Miyuki”. He has the “thinking baseball”, with his ability to come up with intense strategies that utilize the whole team. He is also a very talented catcher, and can catch both Furuya and Sawamura’s pitches (usually) on the first try. I think he would be the perfect catcher to lead an Ace Sawamura’s wide range of numbers.

Yui, on the other hand, isn’t as naturally gifted as Okumura when it comes to catching. He struggles a bit with Furuya’s pitches and is considered “too short” to be a professional ball player. But his strength lies in his leadership. Not necessarily in game-calling, but over the whole team. He was the captain of Japan’s Representative team in the Little League World Series. He’s probably going to be the captain after the current second-years graduate. I think he’ll be the main catcher if Furuya’s the ace. Like I said before, Furuya doesn’t seem to have the natural leadership like Sawamura does. I think Yui’s talent in that aspect will make up for Furuya’s lack.

First Baseman:

Yuuki

Asada (??)

This one was honestly difficult. The first base is covered only by third-years, and none of the underclassmen (at least, from my memory, and from perusing the fandom Wiki) play the same position. I think Yuuki is a solid bet because his brother played the same position. Asada might also cover the position because he’s tall and throws with his left, which are both ideal qualities for a first baseman.

Of course, a new first-year might come in with stellar abilities who makes it onto first-string immediately, but that’s purely speculation.

Second Baseman:

Kominato (Haruichi)

Seto

Takatsu (??)

Haruichi’s got this position. Seto’s proven himself a capable batter, base-runner, and baseman overall, but Haruichi’s got those as well. Secondly, he’s the senior player, and already has trust built-up with the other teammembers. He’s proven himself reliable.

Takatsu plays shortstop but I just put him here for shits and giggles. He’s also branching out to other positions, like third (and I believe something in outfield as well??). Second isn’t too different from SS, though I don’t know if he’d be agile enough for it.

Third Baseman:

Kanemaru

Takatsu

Kanemaru’s the only player we really know of that can play third base reliably. There’s one first-year listed as a third baseman, but we don’t know much about him yet.

Like I said previously, Takatsu’s been branching out of playing SS. During practice fielding drills, he joined Kanemaru and Higasa on the third-base.

Shortstop:

Seto

Takatsu

Ok, so, I know Seto’s a second baseman. But from the way he’s being developed, it really seems like Terajima-sensei’s building him up to be the next Kuramochi. He’s a decent batter, a really smart and fast baserunner, and has amazing synergy with the catcher. I think he’d form a great cornerstone-duo with Haruichi, as well as be a great leadoff batter to replace Kuramochi.

Shifting from second base to shortstop isn’t too complex, especially with young teenagers who haven’t gotten completely used to their positions yet, and have an easier time learning how to do new things. SS requires someone fast, someone with a good arm, and someone with a good relationship with the second baseman. We’ve already seen Seto during a practice match, and he’s already started to develop a relationship with Haruichi. If you recall, during those “hangout sessions in Miyuki’s room”, Haruichi and Seto were both called “gaming gods/devils” and challenged one another to a video game match.

Takatsu is the upperclassman here, but he hasn’t gotten nearly as much development as Seto has—at least when it comes to relationships with other characters and overall play/style analysis.

Left Fielder:

Yuuki

Kuki

Yui or Okumura (??)

Yuuki’s the only one that currently plays left field besides the pitchers. I don’t think Seido would want to tire out the better part of their pitching relay before they even get on the mound, so the reserves will probably be filled by an incoming first-year. Unless I’m missing something.

Kuki is a pitcher, so he could probably use his arm really well in this position. And mostly just because I don’t have anyone else to put here.

I think it’s also possible that Yui or Okumura fill this position when they’re not playing catcher. The ball often goes to left field a little less than the other positions because batters tend to pull the ball the way they bat (ie, right-handed batters will usually pull the ball to right-field, and there are more right-handed batters than left). For this reason, left fielders don’t need to be the fastest on the team. They are usually good batters to supplement the batting lineup, and have decent arms to throw to the bases, or back home. Both Okumura and Yui have shown themselves to be decent batters (in Yui’s case, even prodigious) and Okumura has an exceptional arm (shown by his throw to second during warmups before the first-year vs senpai match).

Center Fielder:

Toujou

Kuki

Toujou’s already proven his worth as a center fielder. I think he’d probably continue to play this position unless he was chosen to be a closing pitcher for a game. If he was the starting pitcher, he could always be put into center field later in the game.

I chose Kuki over Asada here because Asada’s windup, pitching, curve, and speed are all very slow. The center fielder has the most area to cover, and has to have an incredible arm and aim to throw back to home from all the way in the outfield. I think Kuki, as a disciple of Toujou, would probably take to this role more than Asada.

Right Fielder:

Kaneda

Kagami

Kaneda’s the only one listed among the second-years that plays right field. Kagami is a first-year who I vaguely recognize. The Wiki says he’s a right fielder, though, so who am I to argue?

Any thoughts? I’m not a baseball expert, and I don’t remember all the characteristics of each second and first-year so please feel free to correct me on anything!

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Know Your Boggart” || YEAR 3 – Ch.12 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 8/18/2020

Word count: 3, 044

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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It had been a minute since the bells had rung for class to begin but the doors were still closed and Professor Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Students were starting to whisper and everyone was starting to get the feeling that the new Defense professor was worse than Lockhart already. And they hadn’t even started the class yet.

“At least Lockhart showed up to teach.” Heather sighed and leaned forward, looking at both ends of the empty corridor. There wasn’t anyone in sight.

“You’re right.” Hermione avoided Ron’s glare. “And you know he DID have SOME good material in his textbooks.”

“Unbelievable.” Ron walked out of line and headed to the front. He talked to the student in the front and then reached for the door, opening it with ease. “It’s unlocked!” he called out and headed inside.

Students started filing in. Heather sat next to Ron and after another minute of no teacher, everyone started unpacking their books, parchment, and quills. The chatter continued and after five minutes since the bells rang, the doors opened and Professor Lupin walked in.

He kept his eyes on the front and smiled as he reached his desk. He set down a patched up briefcase on top of a few stacks of papers and turned to face the class. He seemed to hesitate for a second. “Afternoon, students. You can all put away your books and quills and all that. You’ll need only your wand for today’s lesson.”

Heather turned to Ron and was happy to see her look of excitement matched with his. The only other times books weren’t required was that time with the Cornish pixies… and it hadn’t gone well. But it was still a lot more fun than just note taking. Heather took out her wand and set it down in front of her. Ron quickly showed off his new wand again and did the same.

Professor Lupin started down the class and opened the doors, “Follow me.”

Everyone quickly got up and followed him out. Harry seemed just as intrigued and excited and the four of them were very hopeful that the lesson today might actually turn out alright. They were led down a long corridor and around corner after corner when Peeves suddenly swooped down in front of Professor Lupin.

Peeves hung upside down and swung like a pendulum. “Loony, loopy, Lupin, loony, loopy, Lupin,” he sang. He laughed and turned right side up, sticking his fingers in his mouth and spit out a piece of chewed gum. He laughed again and started stuffing it in the keyhole to the broom closet on their left.

Everyone stared at Professor Lupin, wondering what he’d do to Peeves. Peeves wasn’t normally rude to any teachers and seemed to actively avoid getting in any of the professor’s ways or lines of sight even.

Professor Lupin kept his smile and shook his head in amusement. “Not too sure Mr. Filch would appreciate that.”

Peeves laughed again and blew a long wet raspberry in Professor Lupin’s direction before turning back upside down and continued filling the keyhole with more gum.

Professor Lupin turned to the class. “Observe.” He took out his wand and extended his arm with a slight bend out at Peeves. “Waddiwasi!”

The now large wad of gum shot out of the keyhole like a bullet and lodged straight into Peeve’s nostrils. Peeves shrieked and floated away as fast as he could, cursing at the top of his lungs.

Dean started clapping. “Awesome!”

Professor Lupin chuckled. “Thank you. Now… let’s continue.”

They continued on their way to wherever he was taking them. Heather felt her hope for a decent teacher swell. They were already learning new and cool spells and they hadn’t even gotten to officially start their lesson yet. She wondered how that spell worked and hoped none of the students present wouldn’t try it out on people without properly testing it.

They got down to the staffroom and the excitement all around increased. Not many students had ever been inside the staffroom before.

“Let’s go in.” Professor Lupin opened the door and held it as students entered.

The staffroom was looking like it had last year when they hid, listening to the very awful news that Ginny had been taken. It was now empty, except for one teacher.

Professor Snape sat in one of the armchairs by the fire and sighed very audibly in annoyance. He closed up the newspaper he was reading and stood. His glittering eyes scanned the class and rested on Professor Lupin, who was closing the door behind them, and sneered.

“I was wondering about the wardrobe… Leave it open.” Professor Snape strode forward and his black robes billowed behind him like waves cutting through the air. He opened the staffroom door and turned back. “Let me give you a fair warning, Lupin. Don’t entrust Neville Longbottom with anything difficult,” he turned his glare to Hermione, “Unless Miss Granger is there to hiss instructions in his ear.”

Neville backed away and hid behind a shorter Gryffindor. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms but turned just as red as Neville was. Professor Lupin looked unphased by Professor Snape’s remark and turned to find Neville hiding behind other students.

“Thanks for the warning, Snape. But I was actually going to ask him to assist me with part of the lesson. I have full confidence he will do more than fine.” Professor Lupin took a few steps forward.

Professor Snape’s lip curled but did not respond, instead deciding to leave and slammed the door with a loud THUD that echoed throughout the room. Neville poked his even redder face out and sighed.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Professor Lupin walked over to the old wardrobe in the back and motioned for everyone to gather in front.

Heather followed Harry and Ron to the front and gave enough room for Hermione. More people were fighting to get closer, but Professor Lupin made sure to keep them at a short distance. The wardrobe wobbled and Heather instinctively grabbed onto Harry’s arm, squeezing tight. He shook her off and laughed with the other students who hadn’t jumped.

“Don’t worry, class. There’s only a boggart in there.” Professor Lupin pounded on the wardrobe and it wobbled even harder.

Hermione gasped and Heather realized several other students looked just as worried. Ron and Neville had backed away and it seemed like half the class was ready to run to the opposite side of the room as the doorknob rattled furiously. Heather hadn’t read through the textbook yet, only skimmed it, and cursed herself, realizing Hermione had already done lots of studying.

“Boggarts live in closed, dark places.” Professor Lupin stood in front of the doors as the boggart inside pounded at them. The class seemed to relax a bit. “They are found in the gaps beneath beds, in the back of drawers, the cupboards under sinks, and in vents… as well as rarely used wardrobes.” He smiled as the wardrobe thumped at the mention. “This one arrived just yesterday. I’ve been given permission to keep it for this demonstration and so… here we are.

“Who knows what a boggart is?”

Heather saw Hermione’s hand shoot up into the air and stuck her own arm up. Professor Lupin pointed the back of his wand at Heather and Hermione huffed.

“It’s a shapeshifter.”

Professor Lupin nodded. “Yes. Anything else?”

She gulped. “Um…”

Hermione’s arm shot up again. “It takes the shape of whatever it senses will frighten its victim most!”

Heather’s face went red and she tried not to glare at Hermione.

“Yes. Wonderfully put.”

Hermione smiled brightly at Professor Lupin’s words and Heather rolled her eyes.

“This boggart has not yet assumed any form in the darkness inside here. It does not take shape until presented with someone before it. That’s why no one knows what a boggart really looks like. In the original text of discovery, the poor wizard who found one believed boggarts to all look like his uncle – ”

The class broke out in laughter.

Professor Lupin smiled. “The second I let it out however, it will take form as best it can to one fears at a time.” He ignored Neville’s terrified sputter and looked at Harry. “We do have one advantage, however… Harry, can you figure it out?”

Harry looked at Hermione’s arm waving in the air. “Er… Well… there’s too many of us? If it only turns into one fear at a time… Then it would have a hard time deciding which one to take?”

“Excellent, Harry. Very good.”

Heather crossed her arms at Harry, seeing he was already receiving some sort of special treatment, but he only rolled his eyes at her, clearly pleased with himself. It had been an easy question anyways.

“Always deal with boggarts among company. Best case scenario it becomes the mash-up of multiple fears and turns into something ridiculous and amusing. And that brings me to the charm made to deal with boggarts. Very simple in theory. You picture something that amuses you, use the charm, and force it to assume that shape.

“Let’s practice – wandless of course…  Riddikulus!” Professor Lupin motioned for the class to repeat it and they did. “Perfect. Now, Neville – ”

Neville made a noise again but made his way forward, trembling as hard as the wardrobe. Professor Lupin turned him around to face the class and with every thump Neville jumped.

“Neville, what shape will the boggart take for you? In other words: what frightens you most?” Professor Lupin leaned in to try to catch whatever thing Neville had whispered. “Louder please, Neville.”

Neville gulped and looked around, turning slightly pink again. “Professor Snape,” he croaked.

Everyone laughed and Neville smiled apologetically, shrugging.

Professor Lupin chuckled, “He is quite frightful. Let’s see… You live with your grandmother correct?” Neville nodded and he continued. “Then I’ve got the perfect idea.” He leaned in and whispered something in Neville ear.

Neville snorted and nodded, turning around to face the wardrobe with his wand out.

Professor Lupin positioned Neville’s arm up higher and straighter. “Remember, when it takes shape think of what I told you and say ‘Riddikulus’. Concentrate.” He walked up to the wardrobe and pointed at Neville. “Everyone else form a line behind him. After he performs the charm the boggart will take the shape of the next person and so on. Keep the line formed and going. Please have a clear image of how to make your fear comical before it is your turn at the front.”

Professor Lupin motioned Neville and the line further back and held his wand out pointed at the doorknob. He flicked his wand and sparks shot out, hitting the knob and the door flung open revealing only darkness. Everyone gasped and quieted down, waiting.

From within the darkness Professor Snape’s hooked nose emerged first into the light. His menacing face became visible as he stepped out of the wardrobe onto the hard floor. His dark eyes flashed at the sight of Neville and he sneered, looking ready to chew him out. Professor Snape made to step forward furiously and Neville backed away, holding his arm up straight.

“R-R-Riddikulus! R-Riddikulus!” Neville shut his eyes. “Riddikulus!”

CRACK

Professor Snape stumbled backwards, now wearing a long green dress with fluffy brown fur on the cuffs and collar. A large sun hat with a beat-up vulture covered most of his long black hair that was now put up in a low bun. He steadied himself and clutched onto a large red handbag, glaring at Neville.

The class erupted with laughter except for the few Slytherins in the room. Heather crossed her arms and frowned. She didn’t think it was very fair to be making fun of someone else like that, especially if they weren’t in the room… Even if the real Professor Snape had been quite rude earlier during potions.

“Excellent! Next!” Professor Lupin chuckled.

The next student’s boggart turned into a small bandaged mummy, moaning and shuffling forward.

“Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

The mummy’s foot bandages tied into a bow and it fell forward on its face, causing more laughter. Next it turned into a banshee, with sickly green skin and long skeletal limbs. Harry’s dormmate, Seamus, waved his wand and yelled the charm, CRACK, turning it into a fat rat. Next Dean went forward and the boggart turned into a severed hand, crawling towards him. CRACK. It was now trapped in a small wired cage. Several more students went, happily enjoying the fright and laughter of the exercise.

Hermione pushed Heather forward who in turn pushed Harry who pushed Ron. Ron pushed them back and raised his wand, ready for the boggart.

The bogart turned into a giant hungry spider like the ones they met in the forbidden forest. The whole class screamed and it seemed to get stronger.

Ron raised his wand up at it and gulped. He closed his eyes. “Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

The spider jumped and fell on its back, tottering back and forth with no legs to help it up. It tried it’s best to right itself and ended up rolling closer to the front of the line. Harry raised his wand but before the boggart could change into anything, Professor Lupin jumped in front.

The legless spider spun and a white orb rose into the air above their heads. Professor Lupin waved his wand lazily and after a CRACK, a red balloon zoomed into the wardrobe. Sparks shot out of his wand and the door closed with a click. The doors rattled violently but the boggart was once again trapped inside.

“Great. I think we’re done for now.” Professor Lupin walked up to the front. “I’ll give… five points to everyone who participated, five more for Neville for going first, ten for Harry and Hermione for answering my questions.” He looked at Heather, “And five for Heather as well.” He smiled at the class, “Class dismissed and don’t forget your things back in the classroom.”

Hermione’s hand shot up, “You forgot about homework!”

“Hermione!” Ron groaned.

Professor Lupin chuckled, “Thank you. Yes. Read the chapter on boggarts… and write me a summary. To be handed in next class before we continue with round two.”

Heather raised her hand as well and waited to be called on. “What length?”

“Any. Just make the summaries good.”

The class cheered and left the staffroom as the bells rang. The Excitement carried all the way back to the classroom as everyone talked about their boggarts, especially Neville’s. Heather wished she had gotten a chance at one, but she was also glad for it. She didn’t want to think about what it could have been, and only knew whatever it was she would have turned it into Fang attempting to catching snowflakes.

“You two need to learn to keep quiet.” Ron was still upset about missing out on no homework.

“She started it.” Heather looked away from Hermione.

“It’s only a summary, Ron. That’s easy.”

Harry laughed. “He did say any length. We could turn in a sentence then.”

Ron cheered up at that. “Hermione I bet yours would have turned into a test with a score of nine out of ten.” He laughed and turned to Heather, “And a tiny spider for you.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. It would have been an even bigger spider than yours. A massive one.”

They headed to the library and got started on their homeworks. Ron and Harry attempted their one sentence summary but couldn’t manage to cut it down to under four. After several hours they parted ways to put their things away in their dorms.

Heather met them at the bottom of Gryffindor tower and headed to dinner together. They were coming down the entrance hall steps when Draco called to Harry from above. He was smiling, still clinging to his arm in a sling.

“Heard your boggart turned into a dementor, Potter. And Weasley here had to catch you when you fainted.”

Draco said it loud enough for other students to hear and stare at Harry, trying to contain their laughter. Harry went red and before Ron could yell back at him, Hermione was dragging them down. Heather shook her head at Draco and followed them into the great hall where she found a seat at her table and sat down, waiting for Draco to eventually sit down next to her.

“And what was yours? A second-place trophy?” Draco sat down followed by his goons.

Heather ignored him.

Pansy came skipping over and sat down across from Draco, giving Heather a quick glance. “Draco I’m sure your boggart will be truly terrifying tomorrow!”

“What would it be?” Heather imagined it’d be his father with his back turned to him or a little muggle girl asking for directions.

“Probably a giant man-eating dragon or something. Or fifty volcanic trolls.” He stabbed his meat slice with a fork using his slinged arm and started cutting with his other.

Heather rolled her eyes. Maybe she should figure out what her boggart would be in case it was very embarrassing. If she knew what it was, then she could just change her fear and avoid any unnecessary embarrassment, especially if Pansy was going to potentially find out about it.

She made a mental note to find out before the next boggart class, even if it meant sneaking into the staffroom at night. She looked over at Fred and George, wondering if they’d lend her their map. Although they’d probably want in on what she was doing, and she wasn’t too sure she could trust them with any secret that had the potential to be used as a prank.

If she asked Harry for the cloak he’d ask too many questions too. Would he even lend it to her? It was theirs after all. So why did he get to keep it on him constantly? She blinked and shook her head. Too much was going on in her mind to enjoy dessert. She got ready to stand up and leave when she spotted a vanilla pudding topped with whipped cream and sweet cherries. She sighed and figured she could do her best to put off thinking for at least one tiny scoop.

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@lokilover-39

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[coffeefairy]

Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 4

Day four of the challenge, no one is more surprised than I am!

Day 4, Long distance relationship

Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager

Ship: Harry Kim/Tom Paris

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Tom and Harry get put in opposite shifts and find out that three decks sometimes can feel as far as seventy-five thousand lightyears. Set sometime during season 2.

Excerpt: The next thing he’d known was the ensign at the transporter conn clearing her throat. Pulling away he’d found himself and Tom in the same position they’d been in, huddled together, kissing desperately but instead of being surrounded by the disintegrating shuttle, they were sitting on the transporter pad.

The Captain had looked harried, hair not as neat as normal, but she had relaxed and even afforded them an amused eyebrow raise.

“I’d say as you were, gentlemen, but I think we’d all be happy to get out of this nebula.”

Tags: Love confession, established relationship, long distance (sorta, not geographically), terrible title that may change

Scheduling Conflicts

“Hey, Harry.” 

Harry’s combadge beeped for a private channel and Tom’s voice spoke at a murmur, only loud enough for him to hear.

Everyone was allowed to use private channel communication on the Bridge, but not loud enough to disturb others. As he was at his Ops conn, it wouldn’t bother anyone so he muttered,

“Hey,” in reply.

“Do you want pizza or steak for dinner? I can’t make up my mind.”

“I don’t trust you to replicate steak so I’m voting pizza.”

“Hey, not fair. Didn’t I replicate a great dinner last time?”

“It was tomato soup. Plain tomato soup.”

“Well, excuse me, Mr Cordon Bleu,” Tom chuckled over the line. “Me and my insulted pride will go and make the pizza now.”

“I’ll see you after gamma shift ends. I’ll cheer you and your insulted pride up.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tom’s voice dropped to a purr. “Will you come back and-”

“Bye,” Harry interrupted and ended the call. However amusing his boyfriend would find it, he wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his shift turned on by whatever suggestion Tom had been about to make. 

Smiling at the prospect of heading to Tom’s quarters after his shift, he started another scan of the area. 

They’d only been together a few months, everything still sparkling and wondrous. The change from friendship to romantically involved had been easier than Harry had anticipated. They were still great friends, but now he was allowed to act on the impulse when he wanted to reach out for Tom, run his hand through his hair, kiss him. All the things that had been driving him crazy before, the wish to get closer always ringing in his head, had quietened now that he knew he could follow its lead. 

It had taken almost dying of exposure in a disintegrating shuttle but the feelings it turned out both of them had held back had risen to the surface, the thought of dying with Tom never knowing how loved he was impossible for Harry to even contemplate. The moment, stark in his memory flashed in his mind. The blood on Tom’s face, so bright in the otherwise monochrome world, his eyes shining with fear, regret, and somehow through it all, determination and hope. His surprise, then wonder and awe as Harry tried to get the last oxygen to last for the words he had to say. In the cold impending vacuum he hadn’t heard the first time Tom said he loved him too, but he’d seen his lips form the words. Their lips had met an instant later, Harry prepared for it to be the last thing he ever knew.

The next thing he’d known was the ensign at the transporter conn clearing her throat. Pulling away he’d found himself and Tom in the same position they’d been in, huddled together, kissing desperately but instead of being surrounded by the disintegrating shuttle, they were sitting on the transporter pad. The Captain had looked harried, hair not as neat as normal, but she had relaxed and even afforded them an amused eyebrow raise. 

“I’d say as you were, gentlemen, but I think we’d all be happy to get out of this nebula.”

It had made their relationship public from the moment it had started but any fear Harry may have felt at this prospect had faded quickly. Thomas Eugene Paris, it turned out, was an excellent boyfriend. Attentive, focused, loving, with the edge of fun and the unexpected he had always represented in Harry’s life. 

A light flashing on his conn caught his attention.

“Captain, I’m reading a tachyon disturbance seventy-five lightyears away and it’s-”

The impact was sudden, shuddering through the hull. The Captain, eyes steely and voice cool ordered red alert. Harry bid farewell to the pizza with Tom.

o.O.o

Sometimes three decks could feel as far as seventy-five thousand lightyears. Janeway was trying out new shift configurations in an attempt to iron out the last vestiges of the two crews of Voyager feeling like two. Always championing her “one ship, one crew” policy, she was moving everyone around from their usual rotations to promote “increased understanding”. While Tom approved of the idea in theory, he wasn’t happy he and Harry had ended up on opposite shifts. The little time he managed to see his boyfriend he was either falling asleep or getting up. The fact that he often found him in bed surely had its advantages but he missed just being with him. Hell, he even missed working with him. Hearing that deep voice in its professional mode, coolly assessing and analyzing, stating facts and numbers with the ease of a more experienced officer. You had to have got it bad when you found someone’s work voice sexy. 

Still, Tom would take any abuse his younger (stupider) self would heap on him for acting like a lovelorn fourteen-year-old if he could see him now. That Tom had never known what was good for him anyway. Older (wiser) Tom did and he knew beyond a doubt he’d never do better than Harry Kim. 

It had been surprising to find himself falling so quickly for someone he’d just met, he’d assumed himself too old and cynical for it. But it hadn’t taken Harry more than a few hours to disabuse him of that notion. Harry believed the best of people, and not because he was naive, but because he wanted to. He was handsome, funny and smarter than anyone gave him credit for. So was it any wonder?

Smiling to himself, Tom adjusted the course minutely. He didn’t have to, they’d earn three minutes on their journey time of seventy-five years but it pleased him to fly to the best of his ability. He figured the difference between a pilot who flew and one who cruised on the straight stretches was in the details. 

On his conn, the private messaging function beeped. Opening the side panel he saw Harry reminding him they’d agreed to meet in Sandrine’s at eight. Tom knew Harry was going to stay awake for about an hour before his early start would catch up to him. Still, it was an hour he’d get to see him, conscious and talking. Tapping the message to acknowledge the receipt, he heard the Security officer at the conn Tom thought of as Tuvok’s, inform Janeway of some unusual readings. Posed to change course at her order, he waited for it. The Captain didn’t miss opportunities to explore unknown phenomena. Then his conn flashed, crackled and died. An instant later it began spouting numbers and figures at him that made no sense. Behind him he heard from the others all conns on the Bridge had experienced the same malfunction. Grimly, he looked up to the viewscreen to do his best to fly blind with only the unknown stars to guide him.

There was no way he’d ever make it to Sandrine’s by eight.

o.O.o

After three weeks, Tom and Harry asked for a private word with the Captain. It was easily granted and they explained that while they weren’t asking for special treatment, the new schedule was preventing them from seeing each other, in effect putting them in a long distance relationship on a vessel smaller than what could be classified a village. Janeway had narrowed her eyes, explained no one could be seen getting preferential hours. They had both volunteered for the unpopular night cycle shift.

“No, no need. I actually would like to return to some of the old configurations. And,” she consulted her PADD, “you’re both back to Bridge duty as of next week, on the alpha shift. That said,” she interrupted their congratulatory glance. “As Bridge officers we...we have a duty to the rest of the ship. We can never let our personal lives get in the way of our work. When we work, we’re present. I can’t allow any...change in circumstances, or outside influence affect your work, and if I see that it is, then this shift rotation may well change.”

“Yes, Captain,” the chorused. 

“Very well, dismissed.”

At the door she stopped them with a raised hand. “Tom...Harry, I...As your Captain I’ve told you the rules for fraternization, as Starfleet insists on calling it. But I want you to know that…” she looked out towards the windows to the right, to the stars sweeping by, discovered for the first time by human eyes, to be left behind the next moment. “That I am very happy for you. Where we are, what we are living through, it’s...it’s good to have someone to share it with. Someone who is going through the same.”

With the Captain’s well wishes they left her to stare at her PADDs, chewing at her bottom lip, a far-seeing look in her eye. One or two of their colleagues afforded them a curious glance as they passed through the Bridge after exiting the Captain’s Ready Room. Most focused on the task they had at hand.

In the elevator Tom’s hand found Harry’s. 

“So, now that we have the Captain’s blessing and everything...how about that pizza?”

[randomfandomimagine]

Hiiii!!! Will you do something like headcanons for spending Valentine's day single with the heroes characters? Whichever characters that you like writing the best❤❤ Side note: I'm so excited for your witcher fic and Valentine's requests!

Omg, you’re so sweet! Thank you so much, I’m excited that you’re excited, especially about the Witcher fic (WIP info) 😍😍 Here’s your headcanons, thank you for requesting, lovely! :D

Claire:

You had planned to spend the day together

Culminating in a sleepover, and it was great

Maybe a little bit girly, but it was so much fun

Going shopping and eating outside in a restaurant you both loved

Talking lots and lots and catching up

Maybe even gossiping a little if you feel like it

Then going home and building a pillow fort

Then telling scary stories and laughing about them

Even if deep down you were a bit scared at them

Still, you spent a big part of the night talking

And forgot about the silly scary stories you just told

Until you just fell asleep, happy with the exciting day

Hiro:

There weren’t many plans for the day 

You spent the day going for a walk at first

There was a new comic you had been waiting for

So you went with him to the story to buy it

You almost fought to read it, since you had been waiting for it too

Not as ardently as Hiro, but you were still excited

In the end, you went to his place and read it together

Just sitting in the couch together and sharing it

Almost competing to see who could read faster

After that, you commented it and began ‘arguing’ about it

With theories of what could happen next

Which then developed into debating about comics in general

The rest of the day was improvised as well

“I want fast food” “Yeah? Let’s go get some”

“Burger?” “Cool. As I was saying, he is so much cooler-” “No, he isn’t!”

Just continuing your conversation and having lots of fun

And being excited cute nerds together

Isaac:

It began with you agreeing to help him with a painting

He was having trouble with one of them and wanted your opinion

It was left unfinished and he didn’t know what was missing

So you gave him your thoughts on it and advised him

You then tried to apply a bit of paint to it yourself

Making sure Isaac was okay with it, which he was

For hours, you ended up painting it together

You were a little playful and then pranked him a little

“You have some paint on your face, Isaac” “Where?” “Here”

And you proceeded to actually stain his face with paint

He of course retaliated and hence started a paint battle

You two ran around his studio laughing and screaming

Throwing paint at each other and ending up like paintings yourselves

Peter:

You both are usually very busy and settle for a quiet day in

Both you and Peter are very excited for that break

And for finally spending some time together, even on Valentine’s Day

You had settled for a friend date to hang out

Indulging in all your whims and going all out

Buying lots of snacks and doing a movie marathon at home

Cuddling, being lazy and not moving from the couch all day

Just chatting, watching movies and eating

Maybe even ordering take out and having a sleepover

Spending hours and hours talking after the movies

In fact, talking until you were both too tired and fell asleep

If you want to be added to the tag list for these fandoms or characters to be notified when I post for them, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[sebthesnipe]

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? Part 3

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer 

@whatwashernameagain​

Let’s jump right in, shall we?

Reminder: Spoilers under cut! 

If we pick up where we left off, Logan talks about The Dreamer’s/Roman’s vision of the future ‘where everyone could live in love and harmony, and humanity would grow into its glowing, gallant potential, coexisting in friendship with nature and respecting the planet while creating a world fir for fairy tails’. “Why would no one see that [The Dreamer] was clearly delusional” (Whatwashernameagain)? Can anyone say… Foreshadowing?

I know I haven’t made it to chapter 2 yet but I need to bring this up so… If you haven’t read Chapter 2 yet then skip this bit.

*****CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS**** 

Once again, Roman’s character portrait is gaining more depth with this paragraph. In Chapter 2 we learn that Roman really does see the future this way. The knowledge has a sense of innocence that Logan obviously finds annoying but adds yet another endearing quality to the hero. I won’t go into too much detail about Chapter 2 but the foreshadowing here is quite lovely and shouldn’t be ignored. Logan calls Roman delusional for his vision and he truly is. With everything that we learn in Chapter 2 we see just how delusional the hero really is. But its not only for the future… his delusions go far deeper, involving his family, his duty, his team… I’ll stop there. You’ll just have to read my analysis of Chapter 2 when I eventually get there.

Now back to our regular scheduled programming…

*****END OF CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS*****

 Okay… so this next para…. Oh man… So many thoughts…. “Despite his illogical argumentation, [The Dreamer] had somehow kept him from some of the more drastic measures [Logan’s] supercomputer suggested would be necessity for the continued well-being of all – much to the computer’s ire” (Whatwashernameagain). So, I really want to use two types of literary theories here… one being reader-response and the other bordering psychoanalysis. In other words, more Freud stuff.  Don’t worry I’m not going to go into too much detail this time.

When I read this para all I can picture is the left and right side of the brain, which is really what Roman and Logan are aren’t they? I’ve briefly touched on the fact that Logan and Roman are polar opposites complimenting themselves before but… this para makes me consider it in a different way. Roman is acting almost like a conscious here; providing a line to draw when Logan starts to get out of control. Roman is the reigns that are yanked when Logan goes too fast. He keeps the Logical side in check. Fitting. Poetic. Perfect. Love it, Eva.

And… This super computer has so much Sass… Must be Remy. XP

With the introduction of Remy we get another burst of the light hearted humor that comes with his personality. Eva balances the character well, in my opinion. Remy is supposed to be a supercomputer with some sass but writing a character that is a computer can be difficult. I really would like to spend some time discussing Remy but I am afraid that I can’t go into to much detail. Remy in this scene is more of a support character, and there isn’t much to go on at the moment… Of course, knowing Eva, this will change in the future. I am sure he has plenty to say about Remy as the story progresses. As it stands Remy makes for a good comic relief and fantastic transitional device, pulling the reader from Logan’s thoughts back into the present to help the story move on.

 **I’m going to pause here for a moment. While analyzing the entrance of Remy I grew curious about a few things and decided to ask her. I am going back to edit this in because while writing this portion of the analysis I felt as if I was missing something. Why did she choose Remy specifically to be the supercomputer and how does it play into any of this? I knew there had to be a reason, but I hadn’t managed to figure it out. So, I asked. Here was her response:

“So I absolutely thought about why I wanted Remy as the computer. Computers are associated with cool predictability and lacking emotional competence and stiff, predictable speech patterns. Everything Logan already is. Especially this computer, who has to calculate the highest odds- the value of human life - has to make extremely cold and emotionless decisions. He would have escalated Logan’s crusade dramatically had he behaved exactly like Logic at its worst and purest moments. And their conversations would have read like Logan talking to his Mini me. He had to break up that stereotype because we already have a human trying to operate like a computer. If the calculation of our actions through utilitarian predictions are possible (which I believe they are) the reverse - the creation of unique and emotionally capable A.I.s needs to be taken into account soon. Though Remy is not part of the deliberation yet, his ability for human emotion demands he be included. He makes that demand by being essentially the most human of all of them and I will go into (too much) Detail when it’s time for his arc.”

When she told me this I was floored! I knew that she put more deliberation into her writing than most, but I had never really expected this. That sounds as if I underestimated her but that isn’t the case. I knew she had considered it or I wouldn’t have asked but… Well this is just so beautiful… I suppose there is a reason she is such a fantastic writer… And this people, is one of them. Absolutely stunning, Eva. **

 We jump back into Logan’s thoughts within the next paragraph. Remy accused the man of not ‘giving an f’ about what he says. He states that he attempts to follow Remy’s advice without prejudice. “However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate. It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain). I LOVE this paragraph!

So, the imagery here is fantastic. Eva uses a wonderful simile that really catches Logan’s personality. But I’ll have to get into that in a moment. I want to touch on something else first. We know that Logan is driven by Logic; he is Thomas’ logical side after all. That being said, it has been discussed within her Keep Him Safe fandom that Logan is/maybe autistic. I think that it is very fitting for Logan to be autistic (though this may be due to the fact that I am autistic as well). The thing is… and I really wish I had the source for this, but I don’t know what I’ve done with it and can’t for the life of me find it again. I am sorry. Anyways, if we look at this logically Logan is thirty years old (thought Eva may change that but the Logan in Sanders Sides is thirty because Thomas is thirty so I’m going with it); Which means that he grew up in 1990s. There wasn’t a lot of treatment for mild cases of autism in the nineties. In fact, it wasn’t until 2013 Autism Spectrum disorders were classified in DSM-V (History of Autism Treatment). Even if children were diagnosed before then, most cases in the 1980s and some in the 1990 used ECT, which involves passing small electric currents through the brain to intentionally trigger a brief seizure (History of Autism Treatment). These seizures are supposed to be hypothesized to change the brain chemistry in a way to reduce mental health symptoms (History of Autism Treatment). ECT is still used in some cases of autism today, though it is rare (History of Autism Treatment). Why is this important? Well, I am 27 years old. I grew up in the same era of Logan. I am also autistic so believe me when I say that /if/ someone tried to get Logan treated as a child he would have been subject to countless medications, off the wall treatment plans and subject to so many misdiagnoses that eventually he would have simply folded in on himself as we’ve seen him do throughout this work. On top of that, when he eventually came off of the treatments, he would had molded himself to avoid them at all costs becoming cold and driven by logic, blocking away as much of the emotional side of himself as he could and thus becoming the Logan we know today. This defense mechanism would obvious move into his adult years. I don’t know if this is Logan’s history in this work, this is merely speculation, but I am quite fond of the idea and historically speaking it is entirely possible.

 **Author confirmed Logan is autistic**

 I explain all this because if a person tries to block out emotions that are core to the very existence of a human being than what happens? Well, the example Eva gives, that’s what; “He attempted to follow the disgruntled computer’s advices without prejudice. However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate” (Whatwashernameagain). Logan obviously tries to be as cold and calculating as his computer but despite his efforts, the fact remains… He is /not/ a computer; and he never will be. No matter how logical you try to be… no matter how much you block out your emotions, they will turn up here and there and there is NOTHING you can do to stop them. It is part of the human condition. Which brings me back to the simile I mentioned.

“It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain).

This simile reinforces my hypothesis, but I still can’t say that it is true. Regardless it does show the struggle between Logan’s desire to be cold and calculating and his humanity; even basically describing himself as a computer (I’m pretty sure Remy would have a few things to say about that if he knew).  He describes his humanity as a bug, or a virus, a pop-up messing with his head. Or… Could it be that it’s not his humanity that’s bothering him at all… Maybe it’s something… or someone else….

He states that this virus is “muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling”. For those of you about to look up the definition of banal platitudes, I’ve already done the work for you lol. It basically means clichés. So… clichés and ‘illogical’ rambling? Sound like anyone we know? Maybe a certain Dreamer? I talk as if Logan’s pesky humanity and The Dreamer are two different issues entirely but they are not. Roman seems to be a symbol of Logan’s unwanted humanity; something he both needs to define himself and hates because he wishes he didn’t need it. It is quite a wonderful use of symbolism and philosophical structure, beautifully executed. Someone once told me that a superhero is only as good as its villain. I believe that has some truth to it and vice versa. What would Batman be without the Joker or The Riddler? But it also poses the question… What would we be without our humanity. What would good be without bad? In life we define everything as a comparison. If you try to describe the color red you wouldn’t be able to because they can not compare the color to things that are red. In a world without bad, we wouldn’t recognize the good and in a world without good, the bad is just life. Would it be the same if the Utilitarianist didn’t have The Dreamer? If Logan didn’t have Roman?

This an actual concept in the literary world known as the dialectical method. “The dialectical method of analysis begins with particular sense data (knowledge of a single object). But such focus on a particular object of knowledge immediately invites reflection on what the particular object is not. It is not a concept or idea or category. We look at the legal system, for example, and see a law, but to understand a particular law fully we need to know what the principle or idea is that makes it a law" (Rivkin, Julie). While it doesn’t exactly work 100% for Roman and Logan in this instant, it basically mean that one thing is only defined by comparing it to another. But that is for another story…

A good writer makes their reader want to ask questions, to learn more… we see that here without a doubt.

I mentioned that the ‘banal platitudes and illogical ramblings Logan mentioned that were distracting him could be Roman and the next line confirms that theory: “The Dreamer was intruding on his mental solitude increasingly often with the memories of his wide eyes, predictably shocked at learning about the Utilitarianist’s latest plans, before determination lit a fire in his green eyes.” I’m sure his eyes are not the only thing crossing Logan’s mind… As I said before, Roman is a good representation of Logan’s conscious here, with a subtext of attraction that is ever present when it comes to his thoughts about the hero. Logan goes on to describe Roman’s banter once more but this time… there’s something a little different to his words.

“His voice was like a constraining vice around his chest, forcing him to remember his outraged claims of rightness and kindness and chivalry and peace – foolish banalities standing in the way of real benefits for the world. And yet his arguments kept resurfacing in his mind, playing like a broken record. Hopes for unity and joint efforts and belief in humanity’s solidarity and such naive nonsense. Data had proven the probability of success for his hopes at about 8%. A waste of time” (Whatwashernameagain).

8%.... 8%... Of course, Logan would know that! He talks about this hero getting in his way and messing up his plans but when it comes down to it the constant reminder seems to point to one thing… (Besides denial and attraction which we’ve already covered) Jealousy. Logan obviously isn’t jealous of The Dreamer’s popularity or social status, he doesn’t have a care for though things. No, the thing Logan is jealous of is hope. Let’s think about this for a moment. Sure, Roman is the symbol of hope for the country but that’s a different kind of hope. No, the thing that Logan continuously points out is the man’s ignorant hopeful view of a future that is almost impossible… Well, 92% impossible anyways. Logan is autistic… he is driven by logic, pushing down all his emotions as best he can because they are inherently bad… at least that is what he was conditioned to believe; you can’t push down just the bad emotions, its an all or nothing type of deal if you’re trying to be the most logical being you can be… Which means all the good emotions went with them… Logan doesn’t feel emotions like most people… like Roman…

I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel emotions, being autistic can sometimes mean you simply don’t feel emotions the same way as others. Plus, it makes sense for Logan to suppress them… ANYWAYS, I’m getting sidetracked. My point is that a lot of times when you struggle with something like that (or even depression (since ‘numbness’ can be a symptom of depression)) it can be quite difficult to see others enjoying emotions that you are incapable/not use to feeling. It is possible that this might be the case with Logan. Roman’s hope for the future, despite complaining of his naivety, is something Logan covets. It is something he probably respects, though he’d never admit it. I’m sure he no doubt calculated the statistics of Roman’s future to prep for his next argument but also because he was just a little bit curious as to how likely it really is. I even doubt he would actually tell Roman he only had an 8% chance of succeeding because he doesn’t want to see disappointment on those beautiful features; he’d probably just tell him the chances were slim… Though Roman would no doubt be one of those guys that would respond to ‘Fat chance’ with ‘I have a chance; and its fat!”.    Of course, the next paragraph confirms my thoughts on Roman’s reaction to the information and once again reinforces Logan’s thoughts on just how handsome The Dreamer is.

The thing I want to draw attention to next is another opinion of Logan’s. Eva writes from his POV “Thankfully, many of his actions were far too advanced for a simple mind like the Dreamer’s, which afforded him the ability to work in peace. The threat of law-enforcement was hardly severe enough to warrant his attention. Still, he had interrupted his work and caused critical failure to several of his more drastic plans” (Whatwashernameagain).  So, this brings up a number of things we were not privy to beforehand. First, it paints the dynamic in a bit of a different light. It brings our attention to the fact that Logan doesn’t see the man as the sharpest tool in the shed. We learn in Chapter 2 that that isn’t exactly the reason behind it all but Logan, of course is not privy to this… yet. Once again, we see Logan have a bit of a superiority complex, though I doubt he means to or even realizes it. In society today, knowledge is power, and Logan has a lot of it. His view that Roman is less intelligent puts him lower on the power scale and therefore beneath him. This reinforces the same imagery offered earlier in the story, calling Roman a ‘thorn in [Logan’s] shoe’ and the fact that Logan is not happy being attracted to him. On the opposite side it also reinforces just how adorably innocent Roman is.

I LOVE this next bit! Logan mentions that he had not made Roman a target despite Remy’s insistence and explains his position of the subject: “he was trying to be useful in his own way. Criminals and terrorist attempting to profit of the system’s flaws or praying on the weak were an issue the Utilitarianist was aware of, even if he had little time to devote to such matters as we worked on the grand scheme of things. Pedophiles were most deplorable, yes, but Remy could not devote his processor power to chasing every single individual. They had brought two sex-trafficking rings to light with the help of their white-hat-hackers and had, by making the addresses of the offenders’ public, dealt with a lot of them indirectly, yet a single kidnapping was a too small variable to devote any time to” (Whatwashernameagain). So far, we’ve seen Logan move from frustration, obsession, denial, attraction, respect to envy… now we see… understanding? While some may think this is a bit contradictory, I would have to disagree… In fact, it makes complete sense that Logan would accept and understand Roman’s heroic persona. Afterall, the two of them share the same goal, they simply go about it in two different extremes.

Logan wants a better world where things like corrupt governments are nonexistent and every person can walk to their car at night without having to cling to their pepper spray or keys so desperately. Granted, he is attempting to accomplish this on such a large scale that it will not happen anytime soon, but the intention is still there. In his mind, the end justifies the means and therefore the Utilitarianist was born. Roman wants the same world, granted there are a few more rainbows and most certainly more glitter in his vision but it is the same none the less. The only difference is Roman’s sense of morality stopping him from doing something as drastic as Logan does. I think Logan sees this and though he considers the unwillingness a type of weakness he can see that Roman has a use and therefore has value (just as the utilitarianism principle suggests). In fact, in a way, Roman is assisting Logan in his goals, though it is a very small way. He is basically taking care of smaller crimes while Logan attempts to handle the big guns. This, of course, paints their dynamic in a bit of different light; Logan being the brains while Roman fumbles about and makes his job far more difficult that it needs to be. Think of it like Pinky and the Brain, or Dexter (from Dexter’s Laboratory) and his sister DeeDee (Is my age showing?). Within the next two paragraphs

Logan talks about the hero saving a young girl and the ‘almost-admiration’ that he had felt for the hero who was basically doing something Logan was incapable of; which reinforces the analysis. A small snippet of their interactions is seen for the first time; Roman lecturing about every life counts and using power for good; Logan making a smart-ass comment in return and blasting him off the oil rig with high pressured water. This is actually quite a beautiful scene because it shows the rivalry (despite Logan’s complaining) is filled with more of a playfulness than actual malice. It is obvious that Logan doesn’t really want to harm Roman and vice versa. It makes for a very soft moment for the reader, warming them a bit.

The playfulness continues through the next scene. Logan reminisces about a moment when Roman’s ‘incompetence’ managed to get him captured by another villain. There is a lot to read during this scene so I will try to be brief (I am trying to shorten these parts while also moving a bit quicker through the work, so I don’t bore you guys too much). Logan states that “only Remy had managed to piece together his whereabouts after Logan had mentioned his failure to appear in front of a camera for a solid two days. Leaving him to die in the hands of such an individual might have caused a significant amount of unrest and subsequent danger to the public” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off, do you really pay Roman so much attention that you notice when he’s not there to brighten your day? Of course you do. I’m sure he would love the attention if he knew about it. Anyways, the last sentence provides more insight into what I have previously said about Logan’s recognition of Roman’s usefulness. He states that Roman’s disappearance would cause unrest and subsequent danger to the public. While, he may be making excuses, according to Remy, he does recognize this to be try and it is. If the public discovered The Dreamer was gone crime would spike, people’s hope would disappear causing them to lash out in fear and over protectiveness; everything Logan was working towards wouldn’t necessarily crumble but would no doubt be slowed. Which brings me back to the whole dialectical theory thing from earlier, which I won’t bore you with again. Just know that everything is related to something else in meaning, including Logan and Roman.

Love the light humor of Remy calling Logan his ‘computer-world-interaction device! LOL! Aside from the light humor, the interaction is a good resource in rounding out Remy as a character. It offers the reader a chance to understand that Remy needs/wants to interact with the outside world, to experience what it is to be apart of society outside his connections with the internet… Don’t we all Remy… Don’t we all… It develops Remy into the AI he is supposed to be rather than the image of a computer we originally had.

“Saving the Dreamer from his own incompetence was not a concession to his naive beliefs. No, certainly not! If anything, his wailing and warbling had caused Logan a headache as he’d dragged him out of the bunker, arguing the whole way” (Whatwashernameagain).

Logan SAVED Roman?! I love this. Irony at its finest! The villain saves the hero. Poetic justice! It also paints Logan to have a heart, though he denies it, which is quite nice too. Too bad Roman has no idea that his initials are carved in the ice around said heart. Best part is, we actually get to see a small snippet of the argument between the two: “’Uhhng you’re such an impossible motherf- um motherboard! Because you’re like a computer! Cold and emotionless!’ [The Dreamer] wailed, narrowly avoiding uttering a vile insult in his frustration. He prided himself on a hero’s impeccable manners, after all” (whatwashernameagain).

So, this snippet does a lot of things for Roman’s persona here. It provides him with the sass we hadn’t seen from him yet, giving him a bit more personality and a small bit of his POV which is a first in the story as well. We also can see the stark contrast between his and Logan’s frustration. Roman loses a bit of control in his frustration and almost curses; while Logan’s frustration, while intense, was still controlled almost to perfection (minus the one time he almost got caught because Roman got him to argue with him). His calm cool demeanor rarely cracking. Roman, as we see here, however, is the opposite, wearing the emotion on his sleeve and allowing it to flow freely rather than being bottled up and locked away like Logan attempts to do.

“Why had he cared to save this man after all? Not because of the softly uttered gratitude he’d finally muttered as he’d bundled him into an intimidated police officer’s car or his wide, awed eyes as he’d materialized out of the shadows of his cell, perfectly adjusted to the darkness in his neck-high sleek, black suit and high-tech mask that made him resemble a nimble, black cat. Or the way his expression had morphed into a knowing, almost warm smile before their differences had made their tempers rise once again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, first off… Lets look at the structure here. This is another thing I love about Eva’s writing. I’ve mentioned time and time again, her ability to transition from one POV to another seamlessly but she also does it with timeframes. We’ve seen it a few times now, but this is probably the most obvious one which is why I waited until I got to this point before bringing it up. Before this para we were reading a small snippet of the arguing as Logan dragged Roman to safety. Now, we see Logan deposit Roman into a car and then BAM! Back in the cell he had been being kept in. The best part is that it is done so seamlessly that the reader doesn’t even really think about the fact that they are jumping back and forth in this timeline, they are simply able to piece it together as if it was all one piece… absolutely beautiful…

This para also gives a small insight into the humanity in Logan I had mentioned before, the humanity that only seems to come out when Roman is around; thus, reinforcing the fact that Roman /is/ Logan’s humanity. It also is a reminder of Logan’s denial but who is paying attention to that anymore?

Logan mentions the ‘softly uttered gratitude’ that Roman mutters as he was bundled in the car; making me wonder just how often Logan is thanked? Probably never… It is no wonder it was something of note here. It is like feeding a steak to someone who is accustomed to instant ramen: Surprising but not unwelcomed.

He also talks about Roman’s ‘wide, awed eyes,’ the look turning into a ‘knowing, almost warm smile.’ This is another example of how Eva manages to catch emotions so beautifully. This is also a wonderful example of Reader-Response theory as well. She mentions the physical reaction that Roman has at the appearance of Logan, but she leaves everything else up to the reader to fill in the blank… to shape the story. Still, she gave us just enough to work with.

Roman is obviously surprised that someone was there for him as his eyes go wide, but its really the fact that it is Logan, his opposite, his rival, that is there to save him. The shock fades quickly though as everything Roman has been arguing with the man over seems to come true in his eyes. Logan has just proven Roman right in the sense that Logan is good at heart and /can/ do the right thing… that there is hope that he can be led down the ‘right’ path. But the smile he offered wasn’t cocky or conceited if that were the case. It was simply ‘warm’. The complexity of human thought and emotions is far to vast for anyone to really /know/ what Roman was thinking her but I’m going to give a guess: Roman saw for the first time that his rival was not only living up to Roman’s hopes and expectations but was, in a way, providing him with a sense of friendship that Roman probably wasn’t accustomed to. Or at least a sense of affection (platonic or otherwise). No doubt, being a hero was a very lonely existence.

And we end the scene with Logan mentioning Remy’s like for Roman and his ‘cute ass and mouth.’  That’s Remy for you.

Thank you for joining me for Part 3 of this analysis. I apologize for the length and want to thank you for baring with me through it.

Yes, this is a repost. I had posted a very short Part 3 earlier today and did not want to end the Chapter 1 analysis on an odd number, so I combined Parts 3 and 4.

I will see you guys in part 4! Feel free to send me an ask or message with questions, concerns, emotional outbursts or things you simply would like to discuss or add! Thank you all!

  “History of Autism Treatment.” Applied Behavior Analysis Programs Guide, https://www.appliedbehavioranalysisprograms.com/history-autism-treatment/.

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

[froggy-n-tired]

“Mr. and Mr. Refreshing”

Part of the HQ rarepair bang put on by @hqrarepairbang​ !

I had the pleasure of working with @starlity​! their art is super duper cute and fits the story so well here it is!

If you want to read it on ao3, you can find it here !

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring: Nishinoya x Sugawara

Rating: general audiences 

Warnings: There a teensy bit of swearing I think? And a couple kisses :]

Length: 5.8k

Notes: Suga is in college and Noya is a senior is highschool, but they were dating in highschool dw

Summary: Finally given a day off from college and volleyball, Sugawara takes the much-needed chance to tidy up his dorm. The problem is, it was also the perfect chance to talk to Nishinoya, his boyfriend. Their schedules rarely matched up, but Suga really wanted to clean up his living space. Unfortunately, cleaning takes a while when you're reminded of your high school days with everything you pick up.

“Okay babe, I’ll be sure to call you once I’m done,” The silver-haired man said, phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder as he pushed his bedroom door open. He set down the bin he brought in on his bed, sighing with relief as the weight of the cleaning supplies he brought was out of his arms. The guy on the other end of the phone made a joke, instantly making Sugawara laugh. “Ah, no. It’ll only take an hour, I swear.” He looked over his mess of a dorm again and frowned. “Maybe two.” 

Sugawara sat on his bed next to the cleaning supplies. “Alright babe, I will. It won’t be that long I promise! I love you too, okay? I’ll call you later. Bye, Noya.” He smiled softly, wishing that he didn’t have to spend the afternoon away from his boyfriend. It always was a struggle trying to hang up with him, and usually he didn’t mind staying on the phone for extra time. He really did need to clean his dorm, though- it was beyond a mess. College had begun to blind him from the state of the room, since whenever he was in there he was too focused on his studies or sleeping. It didn’t help that he didn’t have many reasons to clean it anyways, since he didn’t throw parties there or have friends over much. So over time things piled up and he never got around to tidying, which is why he was devoting this Sunday to it.

In Koushi’s opinion, cleaning wasn’t hard- or at least, picking things up was easy enough. No, it wasn’t the picking things up part that was hard, it was putting them away. Whenever you pick up one thing, it brings an onslaught of memories and emotions that make it impossible to part with the thing. So you set it aside and tell yourself that you’ll find a home for it later. This process continues until you have nothing left to pick up and have an infinite amount of piles. At that point you realize you’re exactly where you started. Sugawara was no stranger to this process. 

He figured it would be easiest to start with the obvious waste: cans of soda, various wrappers, papers from his classes he finished with long ago (the papers, not the classes), unfinished food that his roommate probably left; the typical garbage. It was thrown away in no time, which only ended up making his dorm look a little better. 

Suga looked at his phone which was resting on his bed, almost buried in his blankets. Noya’s probably missing him right now, hoping for him to finish early and call him. It was rare for both of them to not have classes, but for neither of them to have volleyball either? The opportunity was golden, and Suga felt bad that he had to deny his boyfriend his time. A flash of inspiration went off in his head and gave him an idea: the faster he cleaned, the quicker he could call Nishinoya. 

With newfound motivation, Sugawara brushed his bangs out of his eyes and got to work. 

The next step for him was sorting through the clothes he had on the floor. Not all of it was necessarily too dirty to wear, and some of it might even be his roommate's, so it seemed like an obvious choice. Besides, who could get sentimental about a shirt? Most of his were plain white anyways.

His theory proved to be true as he threw the clothing into piles- piles made everything easier in the end, and what he needs most is efficiency- most of the items he picked up belonged to his roommate, and what was his appeared to be fine. Some of the shirts he used for practice could use a wash, but some of them were still folded, perfectly fine save for a bit of dust. There was just one last t-shirt, stashed under the dorm bed. He grabbed it, and-

As soon as he saw the kanji, he remembered where it was from. 

-one year earlier, mid-june-

“What do you mean you don’t like it? I think they're- oh, Suga-san!” As soon as Sugawara walked into the club room, Nishinoya’s attention turned away from the scowling Tsukkishima and onto him. Almost all of the team was in the room aside from the third years, who had just gotten out of a meeting about their final year at school. Nishinoya was rummaging through a large cardboard box, sifting through what looked like white cloths until he found the right one. 

“What’s in there?” Just after Suga asked, Nishinoya jumped over the usual clutter of the club room, landing in front of Suga. He unraveled the cloth to show that it was actually a t-shirt, white save for the phrase ‘live like a beast’ written on it in a wild font. 

“My favorite t-shirt store was having a sale, so I got them for the whole team!” He threw the shirt into Suga’s arms, grinning with excitement. “Aren’t I the best?”

Suga looked at the rest of the team, who also held similar shirts. They all seemed to have different phrases though, judging by the few who were actually wearing them. The shirt itself was kind of weird, but it was a nice enough gesture, so Suga put on a smile. “Thank you, Noya.”

The boy didn’t move, resting his hands on his hips, his face painted with his typical smirk. Eventually, he said, “Aren’t you gonna put it on? I’d love to see one of my seniors wearing my gift for them!”

Oh, right. How could Suga have been so rude? He slipped the shirt over his arms and head, surprised at how comfortable it was. 

“Perfect!” Nishinoya yelled. “Y’know, you look kind of ruggedly handsome in that, Suga-senpai. All the guys’ll look up to you as a cool, wild, handsome guy.” He put his hand on Suga’s shoulder in assurance. Suga couldn’t help but blush at the compliment, feeling his ears redden. He didn’t usually get called handsome, especially not by his teammates, so it was different than usual to hear it from Noya like that.

“Ah, well thank you Noya.” He bashfully replied. Noya said something back and smiled, but Sugawara couldn’t hear it. He was too busy fixated on his rapidly beating heart and reddened ears to notice anything else.

That was when he realized he might have feelings for his underclassman.

-one week later, late-june-

It was a hot summer practice, and everyone was protesting while Daichi explained that while all the running may be painful now, it would pay off later when they stood on the court as a winner. Suga chuckled, watching the underclassmen groan at Daichi’s argument. These kinds of grueling summer practices were normal for the team, and although he didn’t want to run again either, he knew better than to defy the team captain. 

“Let’s just get it over with.” Tsukkishima commented sharply, wiping sweat off his forehead. 

Daichi beamed. “Exactly! So, Tsukkishima, would you like to be the first to start up the hill?”

“Thanks, but that won’t be happening.” The blond scoffed. He looked around at the team and crossed his arms. “Hey, aren’t we missing a shortie?” 

That question annoyed Hinata, who jumped and yelled, “I’m right here! Jeez, can’t you see me?”  His jumping made it almost impossible not to see him, even Tsukkishima grumbling something along the lines of ‘I wasn’t talking about you’ in response. 

“No, he’s right.” Asahi trembled, sounding almost zombie-like with his dead tone. Everyone looked at him, shocked to see his face was just as morbid as he sounded. He returned to normal after seeing everyone’s terrified faces. “Ah, sorry! I meant to say.. Nishanoya’s missing.”

Suga looked around. Nishinoya always went to practice, so he was sure he would be there- but there was no sight of him within the team. It seemed like everyone had the same thought as him and looked around at the same time, trying to spot the energetic libero. 

Coincidentally, it was at that moment that the gym door slammed open, revealing Nishinoya who sprinted to catch up with the group. He was sweaty from running yet his smile shone as bright as ever. When he reached the team, Suga realized why he was late.

“Haha, sorry for showing up late, everyone! The t-shirt printing place was really backed up by some tennis team, but I got out of there as fast as I could!” He gestured to the shirt he was wearing, one identical to the one Suga received no less than a week before. “I wanted to look handsome like Koushi-kun so I got a t-shirt that matches his! Aren’t I handsome now?” The way he said the words so casually as if he didn’t set Suga’s heart on fire- Suga couldn’t help but blush.

Hinata was the one to respond first. “Ah, you look so cool, Noya-senpai!”

“Thanks!” Noya beamed, doing different poses to further show off the shirt. Suga could only smile, his head too full of thoughts to let him do anything else. He had so many questions. Did he make his attraction too obvious? Was Nishinoya just making fun of him? … Or could he feel the same?

Before long, Daichi interrupted. “I’m glad to see you here, Noya. But since you’re late, you’ll have to do three extra laps up the hill. Everyone, let’s go!” 

The team proceeded to groan in anguish. 

-present-

As the memories came back, Suga found himself wanting to answer his past self’s questions. He knew how long he spent wondering if he was crazy for thinking that Nishinoya had similar feelings, and he wished he could’ve known sooner. Still, he looked back on those summer days with a smile. There was something though about the flutters he got in his heart every time he thought about Nishinoya that he wouldn’t give up. Thinking about his boyfriend reminded him of his goal- to actually clean his room.

There was a pile of miscellaneous items stacked on a chair by Koushi’s bed, which began to feel out of place the more he cleaned, making it the perfect target. As he moved the many things off the chair, he found things he forgot he even had. Letters from his parents, vouchers that expired months ago, even a book he borrowed from the library when he first started at his school. 

Before he could finish removing everything from the pile, Suga heard a chime from his phone. Normally he wasn’t the type to instantly check notifications, especially when he was in the middle of an important task, but something in him made him get up off the floor and search through his sheets for his phone. When he found it and entered in his passcode, he saw that the text was from none other than his boyfriend himself. He didn’t hesitate to open the message.

From: 💕Noya💕

Hey r u almost done?? I miss you already 😝

Oops wrong emoji 😩

^ thats me missin u btw

Suga smiled. Of course he would text already. He couldn’t completely blame Noya though; he wanted to talk to him just as much, if not more. The least he could do was respond.

Ah, so sorry! I’ll be done soon. 

Please don’t get too lonely without me 😊

Sent

With the text sent, Suga returned to the chair. It was definitely improved upon, but there was still much work to be done. He started sorting through the objects again, not even noticing the progress he was making until there was only one thing left- a water bottle.

And that water bottle brought him back in time again once he recognized the logo printed on it.

-About one year earlier, late July-

After so much hard work and fine-tuning of skills, the training camp was finally over. Although Suga himself didn’t play much in matches, he still worked hard to train, and just standing on the bench during games made him adrenaline spike. The practices were more grueling than ever, and somehow Suga always worked up a sweat even when he wasn’t training. With all the emotional issues too, the week of the training camp felt like an eternity. He was glad for it to be over. 

“Hey Suga-san, wanna come practice with us?” The invitation came from Tanaka, who was standing behind where Suga stood. Suga turned to face him and saw Asahi and Noya standing just behind Tanaka, both looking more energized than usual despite all the matches they played in. Tanaka grinned, probably expecting him to accept the offer.  

Even though he was exhausted, something inside Koushi told him to go with them, telling himself that he could work hard to perfect one of his skills- any of them- then he could have a chance to play in the inter-high matches. So he mustered up all his strength and put on a smile. “Of course!”

Tanaka pumped his fist in the air and yelled, “Alright alright!” He quickly put his hands in the edge of his waistband to keep up his delinquent rep, and as stupid as he looked Suga was glad to see him acting normal after everything the week had brought upon them.

“We might want to find a court before they all get taken, just saying.” Suga suggested, looking at the crowd of players leaving the gym as a result of all the team’s finishing their matches. After he said that, he felt a hand on his shoulder- which upon a quick glance he figured out belonged to Nishinoya. 

“He’s right you know.” he said. “You all should listen to Suga-san more often!” 

If the sensation of Noya’s touch and cute words weren’t already enough to send Koushi’s heart into a crescendo, what Tanaka said next surely was: “Ah, Noya, you listen to him all the time, dontcha?” And just as quickly as he put his hand on Suga’s shoulder, it was gone again, now being used to slap Tanaka’s face. Him and Noya went at each other like restless puppies, grabbing at each other’s collars and pulling each other’s ears. The fight didn’t go on for long though, as Asahi was quick to pull them apart. 

“Guys can you stop fighting please? We’d better hurry up like Suga said.” 

The two rowdy boys bowed and grumbled their apologies before the four of them went in search of an empty gym. It seemed like they were already too late, but there was one gym at the furthest end of the building that was empty. 

“This gym belongs to Karasuno!” Nishinoya and Tanaka yelled in synchronization as they tossed their belongings on the floor. Both Asahi and Suga chuckled at their cheer while setting their own things down. 

Suga turned to Asahi. “Are you gonna work on your Ace spike?” 

“I want to,” Asahi replied before looking at the second years. “Can we please start now?” Although his request was asked softly, it still managed to hype the second years up even more as they ran over to the third years instantly. 

“Ooh ooh, can I do my cool jump-set thing?” Nishinoya beamed. Koushi wanted to see his set up close himself after seeing it used in the matches, which reminded himself that it was a good idea to join the mini-practice.

“You might be better than me soon, Noya.” Suga chuckled, only half-joking although the junior laughed anyways. 

“You’re such a jokester! There’s no way I could get better than you at setting even if I practiced for hours on end.” 

Cue Suga blushing. 

“Hey, let’s get to it already!! I wanna hit!” Tanaka yelled from the other side of the net, clearly itching to spike. Asahi looked at him then turned back to Suga. 

“Why don’t we do two groups? One setter and one spiker on each side, then we can switch-” Before the other senior could finish his proposition, Suga burst out in laughter. Both Asahi and Noya looked confused at the sudden outburst while Suga tried to calm himself in order to elaborate.

“Ah, Asahi-san, how bold of you to assume I’m setting. I wanna hit today, too.” 

Tanaka grinned at his change of position. “All right! Then let’s get into a line an’ get to it!”

“Alright!”

-one hour later-

As the night began to cool, the four boys ended their training sore and exhausted after so much spiking and setting. Asahi left first, yawning as he walked out of the gym half-asleep. Tanaka followed a few minutes later, saying that he was sick of hitting his spikes so perfectly, which left Suga and Noya on their own. Ulike normal, Noya was in a sour mood, sulking as he picked up the volleyballs that littered the court. Suga tried to start a conversation to cheer him up.

“Your sets were really cool today, Noya. I meant it when I said-”

“I’m sorry about what Tanaka said earlier.” Nishinoya bluntly stated.

Suga tried to think back to figure out what he meant. Nothing came to mind. “What did he say? Are you alright?” 

“Oh so you forgot already. Don’t worry, I’m totally fine.” He laughed in relief. Suga didn’t buy it though, since Noya never acted that way.

“If you need to talk to me, you can, y’know.” 

Nishinoya stood in thought for a minute, and Suga swore he had never seen the libero so still before. It was almost like he was too busy thinking to do anything else. Suga didn’t have time to truly take in his peaceful form before Noya snapped out of his trance and took ahold of Suga’s wrist. He brought the confused setter into the mini storage closet located in the back of the gym, clearing his throat once they were both in the closet. 

“Suga- no, Koushi- I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird these past couple weeks.. It’s just hard keeping a secret, y’know?” Nishinoya had a whole different tone to him than he did before, vulnerable as he spoke of his secret. Suga couldn’t do anything but listen. Noya continued. “I know it’s gonna come outta nowhere, but I really want to tell you.”

Koushi’s heart was racing, and he was glad the closet was dark enough to mask his blush. Something about the intimate situation set his heart on fire. “You can tell me.” He whispered.

“I..” He stepped closer to Koushi. “I really like you. More than I like volleyball, or our school’s uniform, or even more than soda-flavored popsicles. That’s how you know I’m serious.” His giggle at the end made Koushi realize that this was what he had wanted for weeks, and for the first time since Noya grabbed his arm he knew exactly how to respond.

“That’s how I feel too. All this time I thought I was crazy for thinking that you might feel the same, but… I’m glad.” He smiled and exhaled, feeling all his doubt melt off his shoulders. 

Noya took Koushi’s hand in his own. “Can I..?”

“What? Kiss me?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.”

And in that moment, when their lips met, Koushi felt truly happy. All his insecurities about his attraction, or the fact that he was graduating soon left his mind completely, now his only thoughts were of how electrifying it felt to finally be able to kiss Nishinoya Yuu. However, as Shakespeare said, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’ and the same was true as Noya pulled away silently.

“Does this mean we’re..” Suga started to ask.

“I don’t- I dunno. But I really gotta go, Ryu’ll be worried if I stay too long.” 

And just like that, with Nishinoya dashing out of the closet, the best moments of Suga’s life ended. He stood in the dark for a moment, lingering in the shock-like feeling that resided in his core. He so badly wanted to chase after his junior, to kiss him again, to hear him say that he loved him while the feeling was still fresh in his mind, but he didn’t move until he couldn’t hear Noya’s footsteps anymore. 

He decided to leave soon after. He picked up the last of his things and prepared to turn off the gym lights when he saw a neon orange water bottle sitting by the wall. He didn’t want to leave it there, since that would be littering, so he went over to pick it up. The bottle was mostly-empty, but the water inside was still cool so he quickly figured out it was Noya’s. He put the bottle in his bag and left for the room where the team was sleeping.

-present-

As he held the bottle in his hand and he remembered that night, he too remembered the next day when he tried to return the bottle, but Nishinoya refused and let him keep it. He never used it, but still took it with him to college thinking he might get use out of it there. Guess it never saw anything but this chair, huh? He thought, putting the bottle down to continue with his task.

Putting away all the things from the chair pile was a breeze. Most of it was either garbage or recyclable anyways, and the rest was relocated immediately. He looked at his side of the dorm with pride since everything one would see upon entering was organized. The last thing he wanted to do was organize his bedside table drawers. He never really looked in them, just threw stuff in or went through it if he was looking for something. But since he already had the time to go through it, he thought he might as well take the opportunity to clean that as well.

When he opened the drawer he was instantly reminded of all the junk he stashed in there. Pencils, old batteries, sticky notes he wrote to himself but forgot to throw away, he couldn’t even see all of it. This drawer was the last thing keeping him from his lover though, so he was determined to finish the task. The pencils went in the stationary cup he kept on his desk, the batteries and sticky notes thrown out, there were only a few things left that he could see. He tried to pull the drawer out more but there was something stopping him- something was stuck.

One tug of the stuck item was enough to knock it out of place and into Koushi’s hand. Before he even saw it he had a feeling he recognized the silicone, and when he pulled his hand out of the drawer his guess was confirmed. It was the bracelet from his first date.

-months earlier, mid-August- 

“Next please.” The woman working the ticket booth said as the previous park-goers

entered through the gates. Nishinoya nudged Suga then they stepped up to the booth.

“Ah, sorry. Two one-day passes please.” Suga said, bowing for not realizing it was their turn. 

The lady looked at the two of them briefly. “One adult pass and one child pass then?” And before Nishinoya could unleash his rage, Suga quickly stepped in.

“No, ma’am. Two adult passes.” 

“Alright sir, sorry for the mistake. Two adult passes.. that’ll be 16 thousand yen.” The woman put the numbers into her computer as she waited for the money. Suga passed the appropriate amount to her, then she printed the receipt and in return gave the two boys a silicone bracelet that validated their passes. Once they had their bracelets on, they went through the gates and into the park.

“I’m so excited, I’ve never been here before!” Nishinoya raved once they were past the gates. “This is one hell of a first date, huh?”

“Haha, it sure is.” Suag replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. The late summer heat beamed onto everything, already making Sugawara fatigued- although he couldn’t tell if his hands turning clammy was because of the heat or because his nerves felt like they were exploding. He took the map out of his shorts pocket and looked at it. “What should we do first?” 

“This place is known for that ride called ‘Poseidon's Revenge’ right? Let’s go on that!” Noya stood beside Suga as he looked over the map. Suga saw ‘Poseidon's Revenge’ and just from the little picture on the map he could tell it was right up Noya’s alley. However, he wasn’t sure if that was the first thing he wanted to experience at the park.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we work our way up to the more scary ones?” 

Nishinoya laughed, making Suga’s heart flutter. “It’ll be fine! Ryu told me all about it, and he said we should go on it together.”

“Well, if Tanaka says we should, then what are we waiting for?” 

“Exactly! C’mon!” 

And just like that, Nishinoya started running in the direction of the ride, leaving Suga to chase after him. 

-roughly an hour later-

After endless minutes of waiting in line, Suga and Noya were finally strapped into the ride and were preparing to take off. Even more than when he first saw the ride, Suga’s nerves were skyrocketing. He was never a fan of fast rides, especially not ones of such high speed and height as the one he was currently on. His boyfriend could sense that he was nervous, and held his hand to try and soothe him. 

“Hey,” he shouted although the ride was so loud he wasn’t sure if Suga could hear him,” this’ll be fun okay? And after it’s over we can kiss with our adrenaline surging. I won’t let go, just letting you know!”

Just half a moment after he finished his speech the ride jetted into action, sending the pair (as well as everyone else on the ride) zooming through the course at a speed barely imaginable. As the ride dipped swiftly near the ground, both boys could hear screaming, though neither could tell which one of them it came from. Several loops left both of them feeling weightless, and it was over just as soon as it started. The ride came to a stop, and just as Nishinoya predicted, Suga felt his adrenaline reaching a peak. 

When the restraints lifted and freed the couple, Nishinoya instantly jumped out of the ride, the stars in his eyes shining with excitement. Suga followed, but when he stepped onto the platform his knees buckled and he collapsed. Noya let out a hand when he noticed, but before Suga could fully get back to his feet he snuck a brief kiss onto his lips.

“That was awesome, right?” Noya asked once Suga regained his senses.

“What, that kiss or the ride?” Suga joked in response, styling his hair with his fingers. “Because both were good.”

They went back to the ground, still buzzing from the ride. Nishinoya took the map and looked it over a second time. “So now what’re we going on?”

-a few hours later-

As the day turned into evening and the sun started to set, Suga was exhausted. The day was packed with dozens of rides, games and treats from every food stand within the park and so much walking that he didn’t think he would ever need to run laps before practice again. He wasn’t the only one who was tired, as Nishinoya also had less energy than normal. There was an announcement a few minutes before saying the park would be closing soon, but the couple wanted to spend every last minute of their first date together. They were sitting on a bench by the park entrance, with their arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder.

“What was your favorite part of today?” Suga asked, taking a bit of the ice cream he had in his free hand.

“I can’t choose.” Nishinoya replied somewhat sleepily. He was resting his head on Suga’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed every so often. 

Suga chuckled. “Me either. Honestly, I just liked spending time with you.”

“Aww, quit being sentimental!”

“How could I? I love you too much.”

“Koushi!”

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

-present-

While the memory might have been cloudy before, he recalled that day in perfect vividness as he held the bracelet in his hand. He thought it was funny, how just a small ring of silicone could contain such wonderful memories. He pulled the bracelet over his hand and smiled. Just thinking about the wonderful moments he got to spend with Nishinoya made his heart beat faster. He couldn’t wait to talk to him again. 

Wait, he realized, I can talk to him now. The dorm’s all clean!

He leapt onto his best and scrambled for his phone with the speed of a lovestruck idiot, almost shouting for joy when he found it. No sooner did he turn it on to find that Noya had messaged him more after he last texted back. 

From: 💕Noya💕

Yo!! Ik ur still busy but I got lonely again :,(

But i got inspired and did a lil bit of cleaning myself

didnt get very far tho, i got so many flashbacks i couldnt get anything done

But look what i found!!!

>attached: goodbyeselfie.png

When Suga opened the file, the last thing he expected to see was the selfie he hardly remembered taking. Seeing himself and the other third years in their graduation outfits almost brought tears to his eyes, and he looked like he was about to cry in the photo as well. Despite the abundance of misty-eyed seniors in the picture, Noya still smiled pridefully at the bottom, part of his chin cut off since he wanted to fit the third years in fully. Everything about the photo made his heart ache, remembering his last day at Karasuno.

- a few months earlier, late-march-

The third years left the ceremony with more emotions than they could ever name, a mixture of relief, sadness, stress and joy filling their thoughts. Of course, they were all proud of their achievements in high school but they never could’ve prepared for the bittersweet day that graduation was. Even Kiyoko matched the mood in the air between them. They all wanted to cry, but held it in as they joined their teammates for one last group goodbye. 

Many of their teammates were failing to hold back their emotions, especially the second years who had known them the longest. Suga wanted to laugh as Tanaka contorted his face to pretend he wasn’t crying. The first years, too, were emotional- Hinata for example was sobbing and wiping the snot from his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much!” Hinata bawled when the third years reached the group. 

Suga chuckled at his level of emotion. “You’ll see us again. We’ll come to practices to make sure you guys are all behaving and stuff, right Daichi?” 

“Of course!” Daichi yelled in response. He was the closest of all of them to breaking down, and seeing his underclassmen so choked up didn’t make it any easier. 

“Who knows, I might accidentally show up ready to run laps next week.” Asahi admitted. 

“We’ll make sure to make you proud, senpais.” Kageyama promised, a light in his eyes that was rare to see outside of matches. Suga smiled, knowing even Kageyama was going to miss them. 

“Hey, can I take a picture with you four?” Nishinoya asked cheerfully, holding up a polaroid-style camera. Somehow, despite his tendency to be over-emotional at any given time, he was perfectly held together now. None of the third years could deny him, and got together as they had for photos for parents before. 

“Please don’t make me look too tall.” Asahi pleaded as Nishinoya set his camera up. 

“Don’t worry Asahi-san, it’ll turn out great! Now come on, everyone smile!”

Maybe it was Nishinoya’s enthusiasm, maybe it was their feelings catching up with them, maybe it was smiling in front of the team for the last time as highschoolers, but the second the camera flashed the four third years finally released their tears. Something just felt so right about spending their last moments at Karasuno with the team they loved that they couldn’t help but tear up. Seeing the third years start to cry made the rest of the team follow. 

- a couple hours later-

“I’ll text you every single day, I promise.” 

“Yuu-chan, that’s a little unnecessary..”

“Oh, is Yuu-chan my new nickname? I love it!”

“Sorry, just a slip of the tongue. I can call you that if you want though.”

“I don’t care what you call me, as long as you don’t forget me once you get to college.”

“I won’t forget you, Noya.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

After the graduation ceremony, Noya took the chance to walk Suga home, wanting to say goodbye on his own. It was mostly quiet between them, with only occasional conversations. They both had so much they wanted to say, but didn’t know what else to say but make promises. 

Soon enough they were standing outside of Suga’s house. 

“It looks like we’re here.” Suga stated, staring at the house that he couldn’t bear to enter. He knew that once he walked into his home, his high school life would be officially over. At least he had his boyfriend by his side to ease the sentimentality he felt. 

“Yeah.” Nishinoya replied. “Kiss before you go?”

“Of course” Suga laughed. Then, as requested, he bent down to pull Noya into a kiss. This kiss was different than any they had before, as if they were telling each other all their feelings without any words. Not much later, Suga pulled away to go home, he felt like his life was complete. It was a perfect goodbye. 

-present-

It was hard not to tear up after seeing the photo again. Even though in reality it was only a couple months ago for him, it still felt like an eternity since that night when Nishinoya walked him home. He wished that he could go back to those moments and spend one more day as a highschooler, one who didn’t have to schedule when he could talk to his boyfriend. Then he realized that he had the perfect opportunity to call him now, and he had better call him soon while there was still light in the day. 

When he pressed the call button, he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long for Noya to pick up, since he didn’t want to spend any more time waiting if he didn’t have to. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long.

“Finally! You have no idea how awful it’s been waiting allll day to talk to you.”

“You too, Yuu-chan. I saw that picture you sent me by the way. It was nice going back to that moment- although I’ve a lot of that today..”

“Really? Tell me all about it, and everything else that’s happened to you since we last called. Oh, and you wouldn’t believe what’s been going on at Karasuno these days!”

“I’m so glad we finally get to do this.”

[lefaystrent]

Kid Logan au pt.3

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary: After Logan wakes up to find himself to be eleven-years-old again, he tries to make the best of his life and attends high school. But he doesn’t do much to hide the fact that he’s an adult stuck in a kid’s body and his new friends are becoming suspicious.

Notes: You can find the first two parts here. 

In the days that follow since they became friends with Logan, he does not get any less weird.

“You know what I just realized is a positive to being a child?” Logan says one morning out of nowhere. They’re all loitering around outside the school, waiting for the bell to ring for the first class of the day.

“What’s that?” Virgil asks.

“I have no obligation to do taxes.” He smiles, entirely too satisfied with the epiphany. “I’m a dependent.”

They all watch him with bemused expressions. He’s sitting on a bench swinging his legs slightly back and forth, sipping contently from a thermos that Virgil is convinced is filled with black coffee.

Virgil doesn’t know anything about taxes or why the fuck this eleven-year-old boy is so happy to not have to do them, but that’s just one of the many weird things that makes up who Logan is.

And who Logan is has quickly become the campus cryptid.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Patton remarks. It’s the end of the day, students are pouring out the doors, and the three of them have met up at Roman’s car. Once again, they’re talking about their newest little friend.

“Think about it,” Virgil implores as he tosses his bag into the backseat. “There’s so many little things adding up that he’s—” He waves his hands around vaguely as if it’s supposed to mean something. To him it does, at least.

“Just a kid mature beyond his years and finds it hard to connect with people because of it?” Patton asks, brow raised.

“Sounds fake but okay.”

“I’m kinda with Virgil on this one, Padré,” Roman surprises Virgil by saying. Or maybe not so surprising, because every time Logan makes one of those kinds of comments, Roman’s the first to look at Virgil to confirm if he’s hearing this absurd kid right. Roman leans back against his car, arms crossed. “Go on with your theories, Lame Dawson. I know you’ve come up with something in that conspiracy theorist brain of yours.”

Virgil pushes up the sleeves of his hoodie to ready himself. “Okay. So far? There’s only two possible scenarios.”

“The first one being?”

“Aliens.”

“You always think it’s aliens.”

“I haven’t been proven wrong yet.”

“But you’ve never been proven right either—”

“And then my second theory!” Virgil talks over Roman. “He’s a vampire and his thermos wasn’t actually filled with coffee but with blood.”

“Now Virge, you don’t have to B negative about this,” Patton giggles, making the others snort.

“Who said I was negative about it?” Virgil smirks. “This is freaking cool.”

“I thought we agreed that this was creepy?” Roman says.

“Yeah, but creepy’s kinda my thing, dude.”

“Logan isn’t creepy,” Patton disputes. “He’s just trying his best.”

“So you think he’s just a totally normal kid?”

“Oh no, he’s definitely weird.” Patton nods. “But even if he’s not human, I still think he’s trying his best. And like Virge said, how cool would it be to have a vampire/alien friend?”

“I’m placing my bets elsewhere,” Roman disagrees. “Maybe he’s a changeling.”

“A what?”

“You know, a fairy left in the place of a human child.”

“Yeeeeah,” Virgil says convincingly, completely unconvinced. “I’m sure that’s it, Princey. Fairies.”

“If I didn’t scoff at your alien/vampire theories, then you’re not allowed to scoff at mine!”

“But you did!”

“Ugh, whatever,” Roman huffs at him and turns to Patton. “What do you think, Pat? Who do you think is closer to the truth?”

Patton shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe Logan’s just a time traveling old man trapped in a kid’s body.”

“Let’s be realistic here.”

They carry on, about to pile into the car when they spot the kid himself walking down the sidewalk. Patton hollers out to him, waving his arms back and forth spastically until Logan would have to be deaf and blind not to notice him. He adjusts his course and approaches them.

“Hello, is there anything I can do for you?” Logan asks. “Preferably before your arms detach from your shoulders with your wild swinging, Patton.”

“Do you need a ride, kiddo?” Patton asks, chipper.

Logan glances at Roman who stands at the driver’s side door, keys in hand. It’s one of those times when he shows signs of being too sharp for an eleven-year-old, because Virgil can see him quickly concluding that Roman is the driver and that their interactions are still tense even after Roman accepted being friends. It’s not really Patton’s place to be offering a ride when it’s Roman’s car.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“You sure? Because we were gonna hang out for a while if you want to join us.”

Logan shifts his weight to the other foot and adjusts the straps of his bookbag. He’s glancing between Roman and Virgil and pointedly not at Patton. He clears his throat. “Perhaps another time. At the moment I’m busy with a project of mine that I plan to work on today.”

“Oooh, what kind of project?” Patton asks.

For the past week, he’s been asking Logan a lot of questions, wanting to learn more about him. During a chance moment alone with Virgil, Logan had asked, “Is he acting this way because he sees me as a child and is attempting to humor me?”

“Nah, that’s just Patton being Patton,” Virgil responded. Logan didn’t ask anything further on the matter, but he did become a bit more obviously self-conscious whenever Patton questioned him. His answers would become softer at being the center of attention and he’d tug at the end of his too-large tie.

Logan’s tugging on his tie right now. “It’s not for class and nothing you’d probably be interested in, I assure you. Just a personal project of mine. But if you must know, I’m researching theorems on time travel.”

Virgil and Roman turn to look at Patton fearfully. Patton just stands there with a pale face.

“Oh . . . that’s uh . . . that’s really cool, kiddo.”

“Indeed, I find the subject utterly fascinating.”

“Sowhat’sthefuturelike?” Patton mutters really fast.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he laughs to cover it up. He walks up to Logan and ruffles his hair. “Say, we should watch ‘Doctor Who’ sometime!”

Logan lets out a disgruntled grunt, batting Patton’s hand away. “Your affection is noted and unwelcome.” Then what Patton said seems to catch up with him. His hands freeze in his hair that he’d been trying to fix. “Wait, did you say ‘Doctor Who’?”

“Yeah, have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it?!” Logan practically screeches, and suddenly he’s far more animated than they’ve ever seen him. “It’s only one of the greatest shows in the history of television! If there was ever a series that didn’t deserve to be canceled, it was that one.”

“It was canceled?” Roman asks, looking at the others for an answer because he isn’t that into the show.

“No?” Virgil says in confusion. He looks at Logan, brow raised. “It’s still ongoing.”

Before Logan can explain himself, a car rolls by, stopping by them.

“There’s my high school son!” a woman yells out the window.

Logan spins around on his heel to scream in a high pitch, “Mother!”

There are other students in the area who start paying attention, but that doesn’t deter the woman. She has a big grin on her face as she waves out the window. “Hi honey! Is my high school son making high school friends?”

“Your repetitive reference to me as being in high school is unnecessary, thank you!”

“That’s really your mom?” Roman asks lowly to Logan. It is kinda hard to believe. She seems like a Patton-type, bright smiles and extroverted demeanor the opposite of Logan’s.

Logan huffs indignantly. “Yes. She has not gotten over the fact that I skipped three grades and uses every chance she can get to brag about me. It’s excessive.”

“But you like it, don’t you,” Patton teases lightly, making Logan’s face go red.

With no other prompting needed, Roman waves back at the woman. “Hello, Miss Sanders! We are most certainly your high school son’s high school friends.”

“What are you doing?” Logan hisses. “You’re just going to further enable her!”

“Hey there!” Patton calls to her next. “You have a wonderful son!”

“Not you too! Virgil, please, some assistance—”

“S’up, Logan’s mom,” Virgil greets her, throwing out a lazy peace sign.

She seems about ready to cry. She looks at her son, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you Logey-wogey.”

“Logey-wogey?” Patton gasps. Stars blossom in his eyes at the nickname, and Virgil is certain that he’ll adopt the nickname as his own. As it is, he’s reaching out to hug Logan who shrugs him off in embarrassment.

“I will pay you to forget you heard that,” Logan says.

Roman’s smile is full of sharp teeth. “Not a chance, Logey-wogey~.” Then he turns to his mother. “Miss Sanders, we were just in the middle of inviting your son to our weekly movie-marathon night. Would it be alright if he joins us?”

“What are you doing? This is kidnapping.”

“Is it really kidnapping if we have parental consent?” Virgil ponders. Logan sends him a glare, and to be honest Virgil feels a bit guilty. It’s a surprise to hear Roman pushing to have Logan join them, but Virgil can’t deny that he’s become infinitely more curious to figure out the kid than he was ten minutes ago.

“Oh my gosh, yes!” his mother agrees enthusiastically. “Logan honey, you go hang out with your high school friends, okay? I love you!”

And with that she drives away. Logan tries running after her car but his short legs aren’t quick enough. He stands in the dust left behind, mouth gaping.

“Wow, that was easy,” Roman muses. “Lucky we aren’t really kidnappers.”

“I don’t think he can really tell the difference at the moment,” Virgil observes.

“Logan?” Patton asks in concern, hovering over where Logan has fallen down to the ground on his back, defeated. Virgil doesn’t know where he got it, but Patton starts poking Logan’s cheek with a stick. “Logan? Lo? Logey-wogey?”

“Yeet me into the sun, I beg of you.”

Tag list:  @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23  @under-the-blue-moonlight @broadwaytheanimatedseries @just-fic-me-up @joyful-milkshake-observation @absolutesandersidestrash @midnightmagi (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this story’s tag list)