#maybe I just won’t play anymore if I can’t get passed this it’s too hard even though the game and story is so fun

[tariah23]

The boss fight is impossible for me 🗣️… Kromer…. This shit is a gazillion worse than 2-10 Arknights and I think I’ll still have a better chance of beating that eventually over THIS. This difficulty spike in LCB is so scary right at the very beginning…

[diamond-champagne]

9. It'll Always Be You

Paige Beuckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: none :)

Summary: In which promises are made...and kept

a/n: The end is so close ya'll. Please let me know what yous want next. Also she's short but I love her.

It would be easier if they hated each other. It wouldn’t be this hard. The burning feeling ignited my anger so deep in them would be a welcomed relief of whatever this is. This a constant state of discontentment that has seemed to worm its way into their lives and settle down in their minds. 

It’s like being in a rocking chair and knowing you won’t fall but still feeling the panic that arises anyway. 

It’s like knowing you’re above the surface in the ocean and yet you feel like your lungs are filling with water

It’s like knowing everything is going to be okay but not knowing how.

-

Paige moves through the next couple of days the way the tide rolls in down the shore. She comes and she goes, day in and day out. 

To be fair, this is new to her. The blonde is used to fighting and then making up, or even fighting some more. However, this weird limbo of which they each hold a key to a lock they don’t have is scaringly unfamiliar. They used to be perfectly intertwined and now they’re chaotically tangled. Both pulling on random threads, having no clue if they want to be closer together or further apart. 

Paige is plagued with the will they, won’t they. Azzi and her are trapped playing this game of cat and mouse and she’s not sure who is who. The worst part is that she isn’t sure why they’re doing this because every time, since that conversation with Azzi, she feels like her forever is right in front of her. 

-

“I trust you with my life, just not my heart.”

“What does this mean for us?” Azzi whispers. Her body suddenly lags with defeat and upset clouds her eyes.

“It means,” Paige starts before letting out a sigh. “It means that maybe we need to figure out why we’re scared before we can face them.” She can see the protest rise in Azzi so the blonde is quick to keep speaking. “You said that sometimes my feelings were too much so maybe you need to figure out why that scares you. While you do that, I will figure out why I’m scared to trust you to love me.

“And once we do that?” 

“Once we get to the root of our fears, maybe we’ll be in a place where we can be more than friends.”

“Maybe?” Azzi sasses. The word might be the most offensive thing she’s ever heard.

“Maybe,” Paige confirms. “Because I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to be hurt. We can’t give each other the love we feel like the other deserves while being scared of said love.”

Azzi shakes her head in understanding. “And what if you decide this isn’t what you want anymore?” The question makes the brown-haired girl’s heart drum against her ribcage. 

It’ll always be you” Paige states. Despite the tears in both of their eyes, Azzi can see sincerity in her favorite pair of eyes. So, she smiles and counters with her own whispered promise. “It’ll always be us.”

So the two stand, facing each other, in this in-between space of friends and lovers. They bask in knowing there’s something yet mourn not having everything. It’s the definition of bittersweet. 

-

The memory is engraved into the blonde’s head the same those words are engraved into her heart. The spoken vowels play on repeat through her mind all day like her favorite song or the newest tik tok sound. She won’t forget these words though. They’ll always be hers to keep; always hers to love.

Until their day comes, Paige will savor the inbetween the best that she can. She’ll revel in the feeling of having Azzi’s eyes on her when they’re out with the team. She memorizes the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other when the pair sit next to each other. The blonde will make it a point to have their fingers touch in passing.

It’s the little things that make this worth it. It’s the little things that make Paige think that maybe they can rush this after all. But then, there’s a specific smile that Azzi has just for the blonde. And when Paige sees it, she knows that this is worth the wait.

But then she’s back to being restless and a little impatient. This much she tells Azzi in the bar bathroom at Ted’s when the girls are a little more free with their alcohol than usual. Tale as old as time and true as can be; Azzi and Paige will only want each other when a drop of liquor is involved. 

“I don’t remember why we’re doing this.” Paige mumbles. Azzi has got her trapped between her body and the sink. The curly-haired girl’s hands are tracing patterns on the blonde’s hip.

“You should. It was your idea.” Azzi answers smugly. The smirk on her face isn’t a result of their conversation but rather how the blonde is reacting to the mere feather touch by Azzi. Her blue eyes are low and hooded. Her body immediately pushes closer to Azzi’s upon contact. The voice that usually drips in confidence is breathy and broken. 

It’s a high that Azzi will never be free from. It’s her favorite version of Paige. The one she can ruin completely if you give her the opportunity. The brown-hair girl knows she should stop. They’re supposed to be taking things slow. But Paige is so perfect infront of her and neither one is sober at the moment so it’s easy to justify when their lips crash together. The kiss starts fast and desperate but ends being slow and passionate. It pulls small moans and whimpers from both girls as they indulge in each other.

When they finally pull apart, there is considerable distance between them. It’s like they both know that this is a bad idea. It’s like they both know they don’t care. But they stay separated at the whispered promise of “You” that Azzi lets out. 

“It’ll always be you.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Headcannons about them with an anxious SO? Love your stuff x

Thank you, friend! Now, in full canonical honesty, I don’t believe that either Nathan or Sam would be particularly good at dealing with their deeper anxiety, let alone someone else’s, let alone someone else’s who they loved dearly and would only be afraid to make it worse (that many crumbling bridges and a guy’s gotta if consider his only superpower is the ability to destroy everything he touches) for most of their young lives. 

However, I do believe that post-UC4 (perhaps a little earlier for Nathan), and a good dose of necessary therapy (paid for in pirate coins, of course)--- they’d be more than willing to finally take on the challenge. 

For themselves, and for the person they love more than anything.

Drakes with an Anxious S/O Headcanons

Nathan:

In his younger days, the prince of the awkward smile and half-hearted clap on the back. A pulley doll whose only catchphrases were “Man, that’s hard”, “Yeah. Yeesh.”, and “Soooo, I guess this would be a bad time for a joke, huh?”. Scurries to the bathroom as soon as they’re not in tears anymore, and stays there for as long as it takes to stop hearing the residual sobs.

However, his late 30s and 40s bring him a much healthier perspective (and therapy— Jesus, finally) and being the smarty pants he is, he passes on no opportunity to put his new skills and knowledge to use.

That playfulness and desire to find the lightness in even the hardest situations never leaves him at any age, though.

A panic attack? “‘Is something… wrong with you’? You realize you’re talking to the guy who accidentally destroys ancient temples for a living, as an archaeologist? And I still consider myself a not so bad guy. So in my eyes, you’re basically a lesser known Mesopotamian god.”

Got a bad grade? “A D in Psychometrics? I don’t know, sounds like they don’t know anything about math if they’re using a letter to grade you. Maybe they should go get their teaching certificates checked. Hey, how ‘bout I just draw you a PhD myself? You know I have an eye for art.” 

Dealing with shitty parents? Landlord? Roommates? Exes who won’t leave you the fuck alone? “What? That buffoon? Guy who can’t even spell their own name right? That asshole isn’t worth a thought of a thought of a thought in your head. Pretty sure they haven’t had a thought in their own head since 1996.”

As soon as the first wide-toothed smile is won, he’s leaning into his partner with a secretive smirk: “Ya wanna get the hell out of here?” 

Because distractions always helped him before. 

Will act especially gentlemanly, and theatrically play it up, while taking their partner for a frozen yogurt, antique shop, Target trip, public park, laser tag (yes, really) decompress. Bows when he opens the car door for them. Pays for everything. Calls them ‘your majesty’ for the entirety of the excursion.

All he wants is to get them to smile. And he’s not stopping until he sees it. 

When the night creeps in and his S/O starts to lose steam, Nathan’s own worry grows more obvious, though he tries his best to keep it to himself. 

Watches them with wide eyes. Gives them space, but still asks every few minutes if they need a cup of water. No? Tea? Arnold Palmer? Popsicle? Massage? Hot Pocket? Sexy pillow fight? However many it takes to make his partner laugh again. But he fully means every offer he gives.

Says nothing as he helps them undress and into their PJs. Touches are tender and intimate, gently rubs their shoulders and neck. Never too hard, never too direct. Plays the friendly ghost and lets their partner take the lead, but never, ever just sits around to watch.

Makes them a beverage of some sort, even if they say no. Hot lemonade with honey is his personal homecure. Says yellow is a happy color, so it must be good for you.

And right before they turn the lights out, Nate timidly offers— with a shy, trying chuckle— if they want him to read them a bedtime story. 

Somehow shocked every time they say yes. Mumbles something self-derogatory about himself (“Ya know, not the best actor, but—” “Personally I think I have the voice of a dying goose, but—”) before sitting on the nearest surface and cracking open a book.

If he’s still feeling a little awkward, will uneasily ask if they wanna hear what he’s been reading lately, and will do so if asked— but really wants to read the pirate storybooks his mother read to him and Sam when they were kids.

It always made him feel better when the world felt too big, too scary, too cruel. 

So he wants to share it with the person he loves. 

He wants to share everything with the person he loves.

And without even asking, goes to the medicine cabinet and brings them a tablet of whatever they need when the anxiety gets especially bad, and says “I know, it’s scary. But we’ve been through scary before, right?” with a kiss on the cheek as they swallow it down with a sip of lemonade.

Lingers, eyes down, and vaguely nods to nobody as he stands and walks to the door.

“Want me… uh, want me to keep reading to you?” But he offers before he can even get past the door frame. 

“Do you want me to want you to keep reading to me?” 

And the last thing he wants to see is his love, alone. The idea of them crying beneath the covers because they were too afraid to burden him with it, too afraid to be seen. Everything he felt he had to do when he was 6 and his mother “passed”, age 9, 10, 11, 12 after a black eye, the words that his brain told him wrong: spoken aloud by the playground bullies he feared he’d never be stronger than. 

But he knew they were wrong. The bullies were wrong. The ones in his brain. The ones in theirs.

“Yes.” He replies without missing a beat. 

And he makes sure to hold their hand in his free one until the second they fall asleep… and a few hours after, just to be safe.

The next morning they fucking better expect breakfast in bed— and he maybe, just maybe, might even be willing to spring for McDonald’s, if that’s what they want. As long as they promise to eat actual fruit after. And hell, maybe even a vegetable or two when he makes dinner that night. Did you know that eating right and exercise are actually primary solutions to poor mental health—? That’s what Dr. Dorian said— No, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable— no, especially not if it’s fried— NO, FRENCH FRIES DON’T COUNT, BABY—

Sam:

Sam takes a bit longer to warm up to discussing anxiety than Nathan does, mostly due to struggling so deeply with it on his own. It’s not like prisoners (or Shoreline guards) made the most comforting companions. 

The better he could keep secrets, the less he could reveal, the safer he’d be.

So it makes sense that it’s both his greatest strength and weakness when it comes to emotionally turbulent times. 

In his younger, more avoidant years, he’d be the first to leave the room, leave the building, hell, sometimes even leave the city after a particularly heavy cry or confrontation with his then-partner. Only to come back the next morning and act like nothing ever happened. 

But now, he doesn’t run. After prison, after Rafe, after Madagascar, all he wants is to be allowed to stay. To be wanted to stay by someone who loves him. 

Is happiest to just sit with you in the silence. His biggest skill is his ability to weather the storm. And whether you need to scream bloody murder, or need to sit and decompress and just fucking feel, but can’t do it alone, Sam’s there. Listening. 

Once you’re done talking, he takes one last, long drag of his cigarette, stubs it out onto the pavement, and asks simply: “So do you want solutions… or something else, sweet’art?” 

You can see in his eyes— darting less than solid, certain against your own— that he really means it, in every way that he was too afraid to when he was younger.

The wonderful and terrifying thing about having anxiety while Sam is there is that it’s a vulnerable experience for the both of you. He’s learning, discovering, trying right along with you. And he may not be able to lift you up so easily, but he’ll be able to sink into the dark places with you, and not be afraid to see what’s down there. 

And maybe seeing someone he loves so deeply, sees as so beautiful, so smart, so kind, so wonderful, so absolutely perfect to him feel the same ways he does about himself… maybe it makes him think that he’s not as terrible as his brain tells him, either. 

Helps you take action by letting himself (finally) not be the smart one: “When ya… get like this, what do you usually do first, sweet’art? Paint me a pit’chure.” Gives you complete control, and smiles softly when you wipe your tears and the logical, the archaeological mind awakens. Mimics unraveling an ancient map when you begin to explain, and you inadvertently hiccup out a laugh. 

At times, it’ll feel like he’s trying to run again, but when he stands up and walks across the room— he always returns. This time with your favorite of his jackets, the denim one that smells like him even though he just cleaned it, and drapes it protectively over your shoulders. Clasps his palm at the back of your neck and rubs out the knot he always finds there. Smiles toothy and wide when your words are broken up by sighs of relief. Only to be filled once again with silence, gazes meeting sweet and safe. 

“Remember Indonesia?” He offers with a smirk, despite your furrowed brow.

“I guess? What about—?” 

“I read the runes’ instructions and ran us in circles all around Bali, only to reread the transcript and realized I got three letters completely wrong. J—V—A. Java. It was goddamn Java the entire time.” 

“Your point being?” 

He smiles and shrugs. Trying. Maybe he’s wrong, a foreigner in some ancient, uncertain land, but he tries.

“Sometimes our brains are just wrong.” He tries for you. “That’s all.”

You sniffle, and he leans in to press a prickly kiss to your cheek. His jacket is still warm from the dryer, wafting with the residual sting of cigarette, Old Spice Captain, cheap mouthwash, even cheaper aftershave, and something else completely unnameable. 

And maybe some others would think the scent appalling, but it’s the strangeness, the specificity, and yes, the stank— everything that makes Sam him— that makes you love it. Love him. The depth. The difference. 

The pain, and what he chose to do with it. 

Another kiss, this time down your neck. This time, the sigh of relief is his own.

What he chose to change it into. 

“So… any chance sex therapy might be a thing?” He asks grinningly.

“Why don’t we find out, ‘sweet’art’?”

[coraniaid]

Fuffy + keepsake + tension + quiet

Okay, this ended up being long enough that I should probably put a read-more somewhere...

Faith knows that none of this is real, right from the start.  

That’s something, anyway.  A small kindness on behalf of whatever higher power it is that runs all this.  It means that waking up, when it’s over, won’t hurt quite so much.

In real life, she knows that she’s about a year into a minimum twenty five year sentence.  That right now she must be sleeping fitfully on a hard bed in a gray cell somewhere in Stockton.  In real life she’s exactly where she deserves to be: locked up in a cage, in the dark, somewhere not quite in the ordinary world.  Somewhere she can’t do any more damage.  

Because she did it, all of it, everything they thought to charge her with and more.  She killed a couple of people, hurt plenty more, and she’d have kept going if somebody hadn’t stopped her, one way or another.  She’d enjoyed it – at least at first – and she’d been good at it.  Better than she’d ever been at playing at being some kind of hero. 

For a while, she’d managed to persuade herself that it was what she was born to do.  That she was becoming what she’d always been meant to be.  And then, later, when she’d sunk too deep, it didn’t matter anymore whether she enjoyed it or not.  There was no way out by then except to plunge head down and drown.

In the dream though, she’s back in school and none of that has happened yet.  

This isn’t a school she’d ever been to as a student.  Not one of the several different high schools back in Boston that had passed her back and forth like a particularly unappetizing hot potato before she’d done them all a favor and dropped out.  Not the school her mom had only sometimes remembered she went to, the school where she’d learned that other kids could smell weakness on you like a sickness and if you weren’t rich and smart and popular you were either strong or you were nothing.

This is the school.  Her school.  Sunnydale High.  Not ruined yet, not rubble and debris, but whole and unbroken.

She’s in the library.  Both of them are.  It’s just the two of them, alone in all the world.  Sparring, the way they’d used to back then.  Wondering if the other girl felt the same tension in the air whenever one of them – usually not her, at least the way Faith remembers it – would end up on top of the other at the end of a fight, trying to wrestle the other girl into submission.  Trying to pretend she didn’t notice the way the other Slayer’s tank top would ride up her stomach when she worked out, or the way her skin shone like gold when she started to break a sweat.  Back to working up the courage to ask if, now that Blueberry Muffin Scott was out of the picture, the newly single Buffy Summers could be persuaded to let Faith tag along with her to that Homecoming thing she was so crazy about.

In real life, a part of her remembers, this isn’t exactly how this had played out.  It had been a school day for one thing, at least for everyone but her.  The middle of the afternoon, not hours after midnight.  There had been crowds of kids noisily swarming in the halls outside, talking and laughing and totally oblivious to how important this moment was.  This is different.  Quieter.  Better.  Just her and Buffy.  The Chosen Two.  The way it should have been.

It hurts, reliving this.  Hurts more than she thought it would. But maybe this is also what she deserves.  Maybe she deserves to be punished.

“We never did get to go to that stupid party together, did we?” she says sadly.  “Not really.”

She’d always meant to.ask Buffy, afterwards, when it was too late, if things might have been different if they had.  If Trick’s stupid scheme hadn’t spoiled things.  If Buffy had seen that Faith could get dressed up and sit quietly in a limo like a normal girl; that she could follow the rules and make smalltalk while she waited to be asked to dance.  If she’d seen her standing up for her and putting that asshole Scott in his place.  If Angel hadn’t been back from hell already, already Buffy’s little undead secret, her hidden rival for Buffy’s attention and affection somehow winning without ever realizing he was in a fight.

But she hadn’t really ever been good, had she?  Hadn’t followed the rules.  That’s why she’s rotting in the dark in North California tonight and dreaming empty dreams about the past, not wherever Buffy really is.  Why she’s not where Buffy needs her to be.  That’s why she doesn’t get to ask that kind of question.

And maybe it’s why this dream memory of Buffy doesn’t even deign to answer the question she did ask.  Just smiles at her, politely, slightly puzzled, like what she said didn’t make any sense but it’d be rude to spell that out.

Maybe it didn’t.  Maybe this is one of those nightmares where she can’t even speak.  Where she keeps begging for forgiveness but can’t even get through that that’s what she wants.

Her stomach hurts most of all: an old, familiar ache.  Just nerves, she thinks at first, until she touches the place the pain is worse and feels something wet and hot and sticky.  Sees the dark stain spreading over the library floor where she's been standing.

“Damn,” she says wonderingly, looking down at the blood.  “I thought it had stopped doing that.”

At least the bleeding gets Buffy’s attention.

“Can I…?”

Buffy crouches down in front of her while Faith takes a seat.  Pulls her shirt away from her skin, gingerly.   Runs a finger slowly across her scar.  Gently, thoughtfully, almost fondly.  She doesn’t seem to notice the blood, or the way it stains her.  The way it sticks to her, red and vital and indelible.  Maybe she just doesn’t care anymore.  She looks up at Faith, green eyes wide and trusting.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

Faith hesitates, but not for long. The bleeding seems to be stopping again anyway.

“Yeah,” she admits, because this is only a dream,  “Sometimes.  A little.”

“That’s good,” Buffy says, voice still gentle.  Expression still calm and innocent.  “You deserved this.”

She says it simply, like it’s just a fact.  Without any malice or anger at all.  And it is a fact, isn’t it?  Faith nods.  She did.  She does.

“Besides,” Buffy says, fingers still resting on Faith’s stomach.  On the place she’d slid the knife in two years ago.  “I think the scar suits you.  Something to remember me by once I’ve moved on.”

There's an echo there, of something Faith had said once herself, a long time ago.  When she was lost and flailing and drowning.  When she thought she was going to … but no, she thinks.  She won’t let herself finish that thought.

“Yeah, well, as keepsakes go I’ve gotta say it’s pretty crappy,” she grumbles.  “You couldn’t leave me one of your old stakes or something?”

Buffy shakes her head, absently wiping her hands clean on one of the books spread out casually on the table her friends all used to pile around for their secret little meetings.  Faith glances around, nervously, half sure that Giles is going to loom out of the shadows and throw a fit when he sees what they’re up to.

“I don’t exactly think they’d let you keep something like that where you are, Faith,” the other Slayer says, a little reprovingly.  Just like she used to do whenever Faith said anything wrong. 

Why can’t you be different? that voice says, even if this Buffy doesn’t.  Why can’t you try harder?  Buffy isn’t like Faith.  Half the time she doesn’t even want to be a Slayer.  She likes listening to her Watcher and worrying about tests and doing what she’s told and she’s never, ever going to joke about giving Faith a weapon again.

“Right,” Faith says, properly abashed.  “I guess I forgot.”

She hadn’t, not really, but it’s easier to pretend.  Not that Buffy seems to care.  She frowns, glances at her stake, suddenly in her hand.  Faith’s sure it wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Besides,” she says, “This one isn’t really mine to give you.”

Faith nods.  It was hers, wasn’t it?  The other one.  The girl who died.  The Slayer who she never met; the one who was supposed to exist between them.  Something had passed from Buffy to her, and then been passed back from her to Buffy.  Leaving Faith cut off, isolated.  A neglected offshoot.  A mistake.

“You never told me about her,” she says.

It’s not quite an accusation.  Not quite a simple statement of fact either.  She only remembers hearing her name said out loud once, in all the time she’d spent in Sunnydale.  Kendra.  Kendra the Vampire Slayer, who’d died less than a year after being Called.  

“You never asked,” Buffy answers quietly, a little uncertainly.  “And it was too …”

“... painful,” Faith finishes for her.  “Yeah.  I get that, now.”

Put like that, she supposes she and Buffy have both had a pretty good run.  Almost a decade, between the two of them.  More than most Slayers get.  More than a lot of ordinary people who don’t even get to enjoy the whole superpowers side of things ever get.  But nothing lasts forever, does it?  All they can do is delay the inevitable.

She has another memory, suddenly.  A moment she’d almost forgotten.  Her first night at Buffy’s place.  Having dinner; the first home cooked meal she’d eaten in God knows how long.  Pretending she couldn’t hear Buffy and her Mom quietly arguing in the kitchen.  That her Slayer senses didn’t let her hear Joyce tell Buffy that she didn’t want her daughter to die, or Buffy’s unwitting admission that she already had.  Remembers locking eyes with Buffy’s kid sister – who hadn’t stopped staring at her with a kind of quiet awe all night – and hoping her ears weren’t so sharp.  Helping herself to some of Buffy’s spare fries and winking at the kid while she did it.  Like they were partners in crime now.  Co-conspirators.

She’s never going to talk to Joyce or Dawn again either, she supposes.  Can’t exactly blame them for that.  Not after what she did.  She hopes they’re both doing okay though, back in Sunnydale.  Hopes that the world’s been kinder to them than she was.  But she guesses that that’s another sort of question she doesn’t have the right to ask Buffy.  Still, she–

A sudden noise surprises her.  A bell ringing, somewhere outside.  Shrill, demanding.  A summoning.  Not for her, of course – hell, Faith doesn’t even go to this school – but for the real Slayer.  For Buffy.

“I have to go,” Buffy tells her, almost like an apology.

Faith has a feeling she’s missing something important.

“To class?” she asks.

It’s the wrong question.  She knows that, even before the other girl shakes her head.  They’re both a little too old for high school, aren’t they?  Neither of them are kids anymore.  And somehow, without Faith noticing, Buffy’s changed out of the clothes she was wearing while they sparred.  Now she’s dressed in white; in an outfit that changes every time Faith looks at it.  First a dress, the sort Faith can imagine her wearing to Prom or to some other kind of high school dance, then a soft white cardigan over comfortable light gray pants like her Mom might have worn once, then a long white jacket stained with dust and ash and soot.  

“If …” Buffy starts, frowns, corrects herself.  “When you meet the new girl,  tell her …” 

The older Slayer shrugs.  Smiles ruefully, a little bit embarrassed.

“I dunno.  I haven’t figured it all out yet.  Just make up something cool.  You were always good at that, right?”

Her tone is more playful than pointed, but Faith can’t help but flinch a little.  Yeah, she’d told all kinds of dumb, bullshit stories when they’d first met, hadn’t she?  Desperate to make everyone think she was fun and exciting and interesting; to make the infamous Buffy Summers think that maybe she was going to have a little competition now.  To make her think she was worthy.  That she deserved to be alive when her Watcher and everyone she’d ever been supposed to protect was dead.  To convince her – convince herself – that they could even begin to be equals.  Of course Buffy had seen through that.  Of course she’d known they weren’t.

“You know me, B,” she says weakly.

She does.  She always has.  That was at least half the problem, wasn’t it?  No matter how cunning she thought she was being, she could never fool Buffy for long.

Now Buffy looks at her, and she sees her – every aspect of her, even the broken and ugly parts, the rotting and wrong parts she’d always thought she was able to hide – and Faith thinks that, in the way she only ever will do in dreams, she accepts her.  The real Buffy would have judged her, again.  Found her wanting. Asked her why she couldn’t just be perfect like Sunndale’s own Little Miss Sunshine.  

But this Buffy is different.  She looks at her, considers. Decides.  Leans forward, slowly, and kisses her gently on the forehead, the way that the real Buffy never did and never would have done.  It’s not forgiveness, exactly.  Faith knows that she doesn’t deserve that; knows that she never will.  Not even from a memory.  Not even in a dream. 

It’s something close though.  Call it acknowledgment, maybe.  Call it recognition.  Understanding.  An admission, finally, that Faith wasn’t crazy to think that they could be the same.  That they could have been the same, if only Faith had–

The bell rings again.  Louder, this time.  More insistent.  Buffy touches Faith’s shoulder, gently, just once.  A parting gesture.  Takes a step back, eyes never leaving hers.

“Be brave, Faith,” she tells her.  “Be better.”

Then she’s gone.  Slipping through the twin library doors like a pale ghost before Faith can respond.  They swing shut behind her, somehow locking closed again as they do.  The sound they make echoes throughout the library, hard and heavy and forever.

When Faith manages to force the doors open and stagger outside – before she even has time to wonder if the library doors always led right to the front of the school like this – she can tell at once that Buffy is gone.  No matter how hard she looks, there’s no sign of the other Slayer.  No flash of blonde hair or white clothing in the distance.  No sign of anybody else at all.  Just clear sidewalks and abandoned cars as far as the eye can see.  Deserted houses and abandoned playgrounds and other quiet, empty places. For the first time in nearly three whole years – for the first time since she was Called – she’s completely and totally alone.  But the sun is creeping over the horizon and the sky is full of birds.

[just-jordie-things]

omg you’re back?! and you’re doing prompts?! this feels like christmas!!

can you do 28 with inumaki?? but also maybe if you’re listening to something nice 25, i’d like to know what song inspires the drabble (:

25: Kiss Inspired By A Song (stargirl interlude - lana del rey) 28: First Kiss ___

you don’t know why you think to ask such a personal question, especially to someone who can’t express his answer very easily- not that it’s his fault- but the thought creeps in your mind like a parasite and you just know it won’t go away until you have his answer.

“have you ever kissed anyone?”

at first toge thinks you’re only asking this question to distract him, because his focus shifts away from crossing the finish line on rainbow road, his thumb stilling on the joystick of the pink remote and his eyes are on yours.  simultaneously, you’re passing his character and claiming first place for yourself, a victorious smile on your face, until you see his perplexed gaze.

in your brief silence, you catch the change in song on your shared playlist.  you can’t help but nod your head along as your current favorite melody begins.

he’s raising a brow at you, the slight frown on his face making you realize your suspicious timing.

“that wasn’t on purpose!” 

you try to explain yourself, but toge’s not sure he believes you.  you had to have known such a sudden and personal question was going to throw him off his game.  you and toge certainly spent a lot of time together, often playing mariokart or smash bros, but even outside of your free time you were a duo.  he was your favorite person to train with- maki was too rough and that made her a better match for panda, and yuuta barely even went to this school anymore- and you seemed quite comfortable with his odd way of communicating.

still, as close of friends as you were, you’d never really talked about these sorts of things with one another.

“okay, i’m sorry,” you apologize when his gaze remains unrelentingly upset.  “i wasn’t trying to distract you.  i just got curious” 

the first question on his mind is the obvious, why? what had gone on in your head to make you wonder such a thing? did you assume he had? but his thoughts derail quick as a more pressing question pops up.

have you ever kissed anyone?

you’d never really talked about any romantic interests before- neither of you had, hence his initial surprise with your question- so toge wasn’t sure he could safely assume you had kissed anyone.  that said, you were a pretty girl with a warm personality, if you wanted a kiss from someone, he was certain you would have gotten it by now.  

and now he wondered what kind of person you would look for to be potentially kissed by.

surely he’s blushing in front of you now with how off track his thought process had become, and he wishes he’d worn his uniform instead of the tee shirt and sweats he sported because at least then he’d have a collar to hide behind.

“so… have you?” you ask, impatient to know the answer, and you sound like it too.

you have toge absolutely bewildered by your anticipation for his response.  what impression had he made to make you think he could have kissed anyone? it was sort of hard to get to that step when you couldn’t even talk, after all.

“bonito flakes”

his voice is quiet as he shakes his head for good measure.

“really?” you ask in surprise.

his brows are furrowed as he tilts his head you, silently asking what you’re trying to imply, before his cryptic words question you.

“mustard leaf?”

“i dunno,” you shrug, setting your controller down now that your game had finished.  “i guess i just wondered.  you’ve never talked about it before” 

toge laughs, and it comes out more like a scoff.  you understand him somehow.  he’s amused that you thought about such a thing.  but then he’s smiling at you, quirking an eyebrow as he seems to shoot the question back at you.

“what?” you feign misunderstanding, even though you both know perfectly well that you know exactly what he’s asking.

it’s obvious in the way your cheeks turn pink and you pick up your controller again so your fingers can fiddle with it.  despite being sat on opposite ends of the bed- with toge leaning against the headboard and you at the foot of the mattress- his bed suddenly feels small.  the whole room suddenly feels small.

you’re anxious, you both realize.  although toge finds more interest in it than you do.

“mustard leaf?” he questions you and you curse yourself for getting to know him so well that you understand he’s repeating your question back to you with those two words.

when you turn to look away toge scrambles to straighten his posture, suddenly very invested in your answer.  he’s grinning excitedly, his eyes wide with amusement.

“salmon cod roe!” he demands through bubbling laughter, and despite your embarrassment, you give in, because he’s just so adorably curious, and he’s your friend, right? he wouldn’t judge you, would he?”

“no!” you cry out, covering your face as you fall back onto the bed.  

you kick your feet in the air in childish frustration.  your face is burning from the admission, but you suppose you brought it on yourself, seeing as you asked him first.

toge’s laughter is silenced as he watches you throw your arms to your sides and let out a huff.  he gives you a comforting smile.

“salmon” he tries to communicate to you that it’s okay, that he doesn’t judge you, but you frown back at him.

“don’t you think it’s a little embarrassing?” you ask, your eyes staying on him to gauge his honest reaction.  “or down right humiliating?” you mutter bitterly.

“bonito flakes” he mutters back in mock offense, but you seem to ignore him.

“it’s not like i haven’t tried,” you say to the ceiling, and it leaves a bitter feeling in toge’s chest.  “but the options aren’t exactly… numerous,” you mumble the last part.  “i think if i asked, maki would kiss me,” you think aloud, before turning your head to look at toge again.  “but i’m too scared to ask,” you whisper, as if she could hear you from her dorm across the hall.

toge chuckles at your wide eyes, and smiles at you again.  your worry about something so silly was funny to him.  you’d clearly had this on your mind for a while to consider kissing one of your friends- the scariest one of your friends, too.

he reaches behind him to grab the little whiteboard on his night stand, uncapping the magnetic dry erase marker so he could scribble on it.

why maki?

you shrug back after reading it, folding your hands over your stomach.

“figured she’d kill me if i asked yuuta.  figured you’d say no” you reply.

he blinks back at you, but you’re turning to look at the ceiling again, humming along as your song comes to an end, so you don’t see the way your answer stuns him.

of course he wouldn’t say no! is his initial thought, but the way it crosses his mind so loud and certain has his heart stuttering in his chest.  did he want to kiss you? he’d never really thought about it before, he’d never really thought of it as an option.  your friendship meant a lot to him, more than he could express, whiteboard or not, he couldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.  but of course if you asked him, he’d say yes.  he’s certain of it.

in the name of being a good friend, of course…

“mustard leaf?”

you hum curiously back at him, tilting your face his way again to watch as he scrawled across the board again.  the marker squeaks softly as he tries to write as quickly as he can while still keeping his handwriting legible.

when he lifts the board for you to read, your eyes follow each letter slowly, carefully.

why do you think i’d say no?

the insinuation behind the question has you opening and closing your mouth a few times, struggling to find the words.  you’re beginning to fluster, and toge can see it in the way your fingers tangle and untangle themselves where they rest over your stomach.

“i- i don’t know,” you stammer, your eyes landing on his only briefly before you grow too shy to hold his stare.  “figured you’d think it was a dumb thing to worry about,” you say, and there’s some truth to your words.

the rest of the truth would have been admitting that kissing toge had been on your mind for some time now.  a long time.

“but i just- i just want to get it out of the way, you know?” you sigh, your eyes falling shut.  “that way, in the future, when there’s someone i- i really want to kiss…” you grow quiet as you realize you’re really only embarrassing yourself further.  you sigh again.  “i just don’t want to be humiliated by kissing someone badly” 

it’s quiet for a minute, long enough that you peek over at toge, just to make sure he was still there.  he nods at you in understanding.  maybe he didn’t share this anxiety, he didn’t feel any sort of rush to get his first kiss out of the way, but kissing someone wasn’t exactly on his realistic bucket list.

your song ends, and soon the familiar echoed strumming of guitar makes it’s way to your ears with delight by you- another one of your favorites.  lana del rey’s angelic voice follows shortly after.

he holds your stare for a moment before deciding to take a leap of faith, and then he’s writing on his board again.  you keep your focus on him this time, watching the way he bites his lip as he writes, and how he re-reads his words a few times before he finally presents the board to you again.

if you want to ask, i’ll say yes.

as soon as you finish reading it, your eyes shoot back up to his, quickly trying to make sure he wasn’t joking, that he wasn’t going to burst out into laughter and tease you for jumping on the first offer of a kiss you could get.

when you find that he’s smiling at you, so kindly you could just melt, you sit up right away.

“really?” you mumble out, just to be sure he’s not pulling your leg.

toge wipes the board clean before scribbling on it again.  you move quickly to peek over at it while he doodles two stick figures with their faces pressed together and a big MUAH written above them.  you giggle at the cute drawing, and he beams at you.

he caps the marker and sticks the magnet to the board before setting it aside, giving you his full attention.

you’re right across from him now, and you move your legs to get more comfortable, sitting criss cross.  the exhale you let out is a little shaky, but you give him a hopeful look.

“promise not to tell anyone if it’s bad?” you ask him quietly.

toge wants to laugh, because there’s not a chance that your plump looking lips could ever bestow a bad kiss, but he doesn’t.  he wants you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“salmon” he says with an affirmative nod.

you nod back, eyes flickering between his apprehensively, before falling to his lips.

you’d looked at toge’s mouth many times before.  it was easy to get distracted by the markings, sure, but they were a good cover for you to let your mind wander to curiosities you had- such as if his soft lips felt as soft as they looked.

“tuna” he tells you, raising his hand to cover your eyes.  you chuckle nervously, but follow the command and let your eyes fall shut.

toge can’t help but admire you for just a moment.  he feels an excitement bubble up in his chest at the prospect of kissing you.  his heart was suddenly beating very fast, and he had to bite back a smile as his eyes wandered your pretty face.

what kind of good deed did he do in a past life to earn such luck in getting to kiss someone so perfect? 

maybe he was a little too ready to kiss you.

his fingers touched the underside of your jawline delicately.  the action was so new and intimate he nervously watched your calm expression, praying you wouldn’t flinch.  you didn’t.  the corner of your lips tilted into the smallest of smiles, and as he slid the rest of his hand against the rest of your jaw, you tilted your chin up, bringing your face just the slightest bit more towards his.

he followed the movement, his nose brushing against yours carefully, and he found his own eyes falling shut on their own accord, a soft sigh escaping his lips as a wave of exhilaration washes over him.

when you don’t instantly feel his lips on yours, you prod your nose against his in a small, gentle movement.  he smirks at the action, intrigued by your impatience, and he wonders if you’d meant to do it or if your anticipation was getting the better of you.

but he doesn’t spend any more time stalling, and leans in the rest of the way to connect your lips.

you’re a little slow to react, stunned by the new sensation.  but it only takes a few seconds of getting used to the feeling of having someone else’s mouth on yours for you to fall into it, naturally, and you kiss him as if you’d kissed him a thousand times before.

he feels your hands tremble as you rest them against his arms, the pads of your fingers barely pressing into his skin.  your lips move over his curiously, enjoying the velvety sensation of his soft mouth.  it was even softer than you could have imagined, you thought in a cloudy daze.

the gentle but alluring beat of the song seems to synchronize with the fast paced beating of your heart, and the distant cooing of lana’s harmonizing has you feeling all the more six feet off the ground.

but i love it, i love it, starboy… 

when you do part, it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open.  your mouth is still parted, and you find yourself fixing your gaze on toge’s lips, as though amazed by them, before your eyes peer up at his.  an amused smile stretches over your face, your eyes positively twinkling at him.

he knows he should probably move back a little further, you’re still inches apart and his hand is still on your face, but toge stays put, just to bask in the warm feeling for a little longer.

you’re not rushing to move away, either.

“is it always gonna feel like that?” you whisper, your dazzling smile demanding all of his attention.

he could tell you that sure, it could if you wanted to.  but he decides that you don’t need to go finding that out for yourself, that if you want it to always feel like that, then you’ll just have to stick to kissing him whenever it is you so please.

so with a cocky smile and bright eyes, he shakes his head at you.  and when he pulls you in for another kiss, your eyes flutter shut and you meet him halfway with a newfound eagerness for kissing your best friend. ___

a/n: i adore this song and just thought it'd be the best to makeout to yaknow? hope you enjoyed <3

xoxo ~ jordie

[gingerjunhan]

how xdinary heroes shows affection

☆彡 Hi everyone! I’m back with an ot6 fic :) I really loved writing this one! Make sure you check out my most recent update

word count: 1,234 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: the link in Gaon’s is safe!!, lmk if I missed anything!

goo gunil

first things first: PDA

Gunil strikes me as a big PDA guy

always holding your hand

leaning his head on your shoulder

wrapping an arm around your waist

not in a super clingy away, just to reassure himself that you’re still here

if that makes sense

I also feel like Gunil would get really jealous- but that’s a story for another time

around his band mates, Gunil doesn’t let up on the affection

again, he’s not clinging to you

he’s just very comfortable with showing affection because he’s in a room with all the people he loves :)

prolonged hugs

I can picture him wrapping his arms around you from behind as you cook or something?

very very sweet boy

alone however?

he can get a little clingy

he’s practically flopping down on top of you

pulling you close

showering you in kisses and praise 🫶🏻

he’s such a sweetheart and he makes my heart melt and ugh I love him

kim jungsu

Jungsu would like minimal PDA

he would hold your hand for sure

everything else would just be up to what you both are comfortable with!

I can imagine Jungsu wanting to have a long, in depth conversation with you about boundaries when it comes to PDA and what you’re both comfortable with

this would carry over to his time around the other members

he’s hugging you

maybe cuddling you during group movie night?

I should write a family movie night story oooo

kissing your cheek

he’s the cutest of all cuties 🥹

alone I would imagine things being about the same?

I know I know I’ve seen how this man acts with Jiseok 💀

I just think Jungsu would need one really tight hug or really good cuddle secession once in a while and then he’d be set

I can 100% imagine Jungsu pretending to play the piano on your back while cuddling??

just tapping on your skin and humming softly to himself

but please please please squish his cheeks and kiss him all over ugh he'd be a puddle on the floor!!!!

kwak jiseok

Jiseok wouldn’t be able to handle PDA in my opinion

y’all know that one episode of Rock The World where the fortune teller (?) mentions girls and Gaon blushes so hard he can’t function?

that’s him with PDA

holding your hand?

he’s giggling so hard

you kiss his cheek?

oh my god he’s dying he loves you so much

with the guys however

he’s way more comfortable

the Heroes definitely tease him!

he’ll hold your hand on the couch

dance with you in the kitchen if a song he likes comes on

runs his hands through your hair

nothing too extreme but it’s no secret that y’all are a couple!!

behind closed doors?

it’s every man (you) for themselves

much like Gunil, Jiseok is basically on top of you

you cannot escape his affections

he is the little spoon and nobody can convince me otherwise!!

kisses all over

squeezes you so tight

showers you in so much love and praise

I feel like he would also steal your clothes? You 100% do not have seperate wardrobes anymore

what’s yours is now also his

overall, less people = more time to annoy you with this love 🩷

oh seungmin

PDA king tbh

he’s holding your hand

has and arm around your waist

constantly taking photos with you or of you

another person looks at you in a way he doesn’t like?

he’s landing a kiss to your lips and then giving them a death glare

he just needs everybody to know that you’re his and that isn’t changing any time soon!

around the guys however, this changes

he definitely dials it down a bit

Ode isn’t worried about being affectionate in front of the Heroes, but he can lay off a little bit because they all know how much he loves you

you’ll cuddle on the couch in front of the others

maybe exchange a quick kiss in passing

enough to satisfy the both of you, but you also won’t make anyone in the room with you uncomfortable with your domestic PDA

behind closed doors, things can get a little…

intimate?

hear me out hear me out

I think Seungmin would be the type to like skin to skin contact

(is this the recent gym photo talking? maybe)

I think he would just like to cuddle you while he’s shirtless because he wants to be as close to you as possible and you make him feel so safe :((

he would be so gentle and kind and soft spoken and UGH he bias wrecks me every day

han hyeongjun

speaking of my biases, it’s Jun Han time 🫶🏻

I don’t think Jun Han likes PDA

such a sweet and shy boy :(

in public it’s hand holding and holding doors open for you

maybe a kiss to your knuckles when nobody's looking

(he would be blushing like crazy omg he’s so cute)

when you get back to the dorm, he’s a little more affectionate

he would still be a little shy in front of the others, but definitely not as shy!

long hugs

wrapping his arms around you on the couch while watching a show or movie

kisses to the cheek or temple

but when it’s just the two of you?

omg

if you catch him in the right mood, I think Hyeongjun can be very affectionate!

cuddling you

placing kisses all over your face :(

depending on the day he can switch between wanting to hold you and wanting you to hold him

very gentle touches and soft moments with him

I believe that Hyeongjun would struggle with verbally telling you he loves you, so he tries to do it in moments like this

he just wants to make you feel comfortable and loved

lee jooyeon

if Ode is the PDA king

then Jooyeon is the PDA prince

there’s just something about the way that Gunil has to physically hold Jooyeon down during interviews that I find endearing?

but that’s also what makes me think he would love PDA!

imagine him holding your hand out in public and just dragging you wherever his heart desires

if you’re holding hands he definitely plays with your fingers

if you’re both in the car or taking public transport he lays his head on your shoulder

I can picture him playing with your hair

twirling it around his fingers, braiding it

he just loves when you do it to him so he needs to do it back!

at the dorm? you can’t get him off of you

he isn’t too bad in front of the others

yes you would cuddle on the couch in front of the others

he would attack you with kisses

surprise you with hugs

but when you’re completely alone?

you’re basically attached at the hip

if you’re sleeping in the same bed he has you pulled right up against him

if he’s practicing the bass he wants you to sit in his lap

if you’re cuddling?

you play with each others hair

he kisses any surface he can reach

he would also like skin to skin contact but not in the way Ode does

he would have a hand on the small of your back under your shirt while he holds you close

he uses it to ground himself, knowing you’re still there as you both inevitably fall asleep

Jooyeon would want to be close to you every moment he can be

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part Three

By the end of the week, the hero was an expert in stitching. It was a lot of work.

On the outside, the villain didn’t look that bad but once the hero removed their clothing, the amount of cuts and bruises was scary. Their whole body was full of them and the hero had to use a lot of thread. There were also smaller wounds which the hero covered up with band aids.

Unfortunately, they only had coloured ones with comic animals (their niece had wanted those a while ago) which at first, had made the villain protest again. However, the hero had somehow managed to convince them that the colour of those band aids had absolutely nothing to do with their functionality.

One time, the hero caught them trying to escape again, limping, they’d aimed for the door but the hero had pulled them back, pressing their bodies against each other, hands on the villain’s chest. Handcuffs were useless, the hero had decided. Maybe that was a good excuse but the hero also had seen the marks those handcuffs had left on them.

Slowly, the week passed and slowly, all of the villain’s wounds were stitched and cared for, even those which reopened frequently thanks to their great struggling. The hero placed the last band aid on the villain’s jaw.

“You know,” the hero mumbled. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

The villain’s eyes jumped to the hero’s.

“No dirty joke?” the villain asked.

Yeah, no dirty joke. With the villain around them 24 hours a day, it was more than a little complicated to play a role. Either that and crying themselves to sleep every night or walking around like an exhausted ghost all day. They’d decided on doing the latter.

The agency had urged them to file a report but the hero had called in sick. They knew they couldn’t do this for eternity.

The hero didn’t answer them.

“Your stitches are awful,” the villain said. “They look horrible.”

“You’re mean.” The hero looked at one of the stitches, slightly uneasy now.

“I didn’t ask you to treat my wounds.”

The hero didn’t say anything.

“Still don’t get it why you do all this shit. The agency is bad, I get that. But they’re heroes. Can’t be that bad.”

The hero stared at them, something close to a murder stare.

“You know nothing,” they said. They pushed the flashbacks into the corners of their brain. Deep down so they wouldn’t have to dig them up again. “There are some leftovers in the fridge, take them if you want to.”

The hero stood up and looked down at their shaking fingers. They breathed in, breathed out. But it didn’t go away.

Usually it did but with the agency right behind them, asking for mission reports and more work, psychic evaluations and health check ups and another mission, they couldn’t even fall asleep anymore. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring the villain here. Maybe they were better off alone.

“I don’t wanna eat your trash food.”

“You know what?” The hero turned around with a burning face. “You’re a massive fucking asshole. I saved your life, more than once by now and you do nothing but insult me.”

Anger and exhaustion mixed together, creating a poisonous soup the hero was more than ready to throw in the others face.

“I know my cooking isn’t the fucking best, alright? I know it sucks but I’m trying really hard to keep us both alive.” The hero’s hands formed into fists and they dug their fingernails into the palms of their hands. “Fine. Just leave if you want to. Leave.”

The villain had the audacity to actually look surprised. A little shocked too. What a joke.

“I won’t drag you back into this apartment. Leave. Escape. Whatever. I don’t care. I have better things to do.”

Blinded by overwhelming emotions, they grabbed their suit and walked out of the door. They accepted the mission the agency had given to them on their mobile phone.

Turned out, irrational decisions were the worst. The hero had suspected that with bringing the villain into their home but now, they were certainly sure this was their end.

Apparently their opponent’s evaluation was ridiculously wrong. The information the agency had sent to the hero had described them as “insufficient” and “negligibly violent.” They were anything but.

Within five minutes of the fight, the hero already had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Ten minutes in and the hero had turned into prey that got hunted. The hero tried desperately to hide, to block where they could but it didn’t get them far. They got hit, could barely escape, got dragged back into the whole mess. Their opponent wasn’t enormous in size but they were quick. Focused. Agile.

The hero wheezed when another strong hit went to their stomach. They felt the crack and the pain, felt how tears formed in their eyes.

They made a noise, a horrible noise and broke down.

“Nothing personal,” their opponent said, voice deep. The hero fought for air but nothing filled up their lungs. Not fair. Not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Their tears fell to the ground and they gasped for oxygen which eventually found its way into their lungs.

They hadn’t made dinner yet. What if the villain really didn’t like the leftovers? But they’d eaten yesterday…

They squeezed their eyelids together. What were they even thinking about? The villain had probably left the house already, licking their wounds like a hurt dog in their lair.

What a thought. The apartment would be so quiet…

With time, they managed to breathe evenly. But weren’t they tired of fighting? Weren’t they just so, so done with everything?

“Who sent you?” the hero asked.

“I sent myself,” they said. “Wanted to see how strong those little heroes have become. Wanted to experiment a bit with you.”

Experiment.

“Please,” the hero begged.

Their throat went dry. Their breathing changed, breaking, crumbling in their control. They knew they couldn’t afford this right now but god it had never been this bad before. They grasped their suit, gripped the fabric stretching over their chest. It was hot. It was way too hot.

Tears streamed down their face. Experiment.

And then, suddenly, they felt a hand on their shoulder.

“This one is mine.” The hero looked up, finding the villain’s eyes easily. They wanted to cry out of happiness but the building panic attack prohibited it.

The opponent tilted their head, their eyes jumping between the villain and the hero.

“Where have you been?”

“I kidnapped them, they escaped,” the villain lied. Their fingers combed through the hero’s hair and they shushed. “Mistake on my part.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the opponent asked. Slowly, the hero got a grip on reality. This wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end—

“They became attached to me accidentally. I didn’t know if you’d approve,” the villain said. “I wanted them for myself.”

The hero saw the tension in the villain’s jaw, how they swallowed forcefully. They knew each other.

The opponent watched them carefully, suspiciously.

“Fine with me. Make them your puppy.” They looked at the villain intensely. “But don’t forget about my puppy back at home, will you?”

The hero didn’t understand the threat. However, when the villain carried them to the hero’s car, they understood that the villain had come to rescue them.

[daemonwritesstuff]

MATCHUP TRADE — FT. @karusenka

A/N: Hihi!! This was so much fun for me to do! I haven’t written for btd AND tpof for a while now :,) im so happy to do this again, and I hope you enjoy your matchup and the characters you got! here we go!

⚠️TW: toxic relationships (duh), abuse, torture, violence, noncon, NSFW (a lot of other very nasty, nasty things… I mean that’s all these games are about LMAO).

For Boyfriend To Death, I have matched you with…

Ren Hana!

• As you can tell I have matched you up with Ren! I feel like the dynamic between you and him work out so well together! You probably won’t get treated as harshly as long as you follow his rules, really, really well… but sometimes he’ll think your breaking his rules and he’ll start torturing you with anything that’ll leave permanent scars on you.

• You would probably be his maid around his house and you are not to go anywhere outside without him with you (which is a very rare thing to happen), when your helping him with cleaning the dishes, doing laundry, etc you’ll be one step closer to gaining more his his trust and you’ll get to have more freedom to, just that’s something that’ll take longer to achieve (if your still alive after some years).

• He also enjoys your sense of humor! usually when your making silly or stupid jokes he’ll start laughing so hard! but if you start joking when the time isn’t good at all with him he will get really mad and use that collar he gave you when he kidnapped you and electric shock you until you feel like your gonna pass out (and he may lock you in a bedroom too, yes it’ll be boarded up and there is nothing to break it open with).

• Adding onto your humor, you do tend to make him laugh including when a situation is really bad (he’ll try to not burst out laughing when he’s about to put you through another torture session again), if you start annoying him to the point where he can’t stand it anymore he’ll start scratching (and maybe burning some of your skin with a lighter) you all over until you start begging and pleading for it to stop, repeating apologies until his heart decides that he should stop.

• Him being a beastkin, he also has his times when he’s like really horny, so it’s good that you can also be the same as well! he’ll usually force you to have sex with him almost everyday, what can you even do about it? you wouldn’t want him to ruin or perhaps break you hm? you should just oblige by his commands then. When your sleeping with him (usually happens later when he starts falling in love with you) he sometimes can’t help but get really turned on by you, including when your sleeping! he’ll always do it with you, especially when you don’t know <3

• He’s in awe whenever you tend to get mad about the slightest things, usually he’ll try to comfort you and let you watch your favorite tv shows or anime’s and let you eat your favorite meal for the day but on the other hand he’ll probably start teasing you or doing something more extreme to get you to get upset and cry more, he loves being in control of your emotions! he wouldn’t give it away to anyone at all.

• You won’t ever catch him saying the three forbidden words “I love you”, just never will that happen, even if he has started taking a liking to you he will never say it out loud but when you say it to him he gets all warm inside the heart and sometimes even blushes! and he’ll always ask for your words of comfort when he needs it on some days, and it’s even better since you also enjoy cuddling! just don’t move away from him or he’ll take away everything he’s given you so far.

• When holidays come around like christmas, valentines day, your birthday, etc those are the days he’ll spoil you with all the things you like for being so a very nice pet like he’s been training you to be… He’ll buy you pink clothes, plushies and other pink stuff to see you jump around in excitement! He even got you a gaming console so you can play as many horror games as you like! he may also play horror games with you to so you aren’t so bored when your locked up in the house forever

• He loves squishing any chubby parts of your body when cuddling! it’s like his personal stress toy when he’s anxious or sad. Anyways, you’ll always be his favorite pet, even if he has to kill you one day… he’ll never let you go even if he has to reassure you, you’ll give up one day and realize that your stuck here with no way out…

For The Price Of Flesh, I have matched you with…

Celia!

• I have matched you with Celia! I feel like the dynamic between you and her can balance out really well and you would definitely be her favorite prize she has one so far… she would definitely wanna give you the princess treatment but she would put you through together sessions and treating you like trash to see if your worthy enough to rest your head on sometime or comfortable or even if your worth enough to get treated good.

• You and her are similar in some ways, usually with your anger issues and her temperament together, you should try not to get mad at her you do not want to see her pissed off and you definitely don’t wanna do anything that’ll get yourself killed easier, your life is in her hands now… you might as well obey her like the loyal rat (a name she calls ya) you are… When you started caring about her and help her clean the room you were trapped in and not make a mess everywhere you’ll have a better relationship with her… and she’ll actually start feeding you and giving you more comfortable items / other things you may need.

• I feel like she can vibe with your humor but will NOT show it for a very long time, she’ll really judge your sense of humor a lot and would tell you if you need to be sent back to elementary school to actually grow up… but you know, once you guys are both civilized she won’t comment as harshly and sometimes you’ll make her let out a chuckle. Once she thinks that you had enough of the serious situations you would get yourself into she won’t punish you so much, but if you do make he mad or tend to say the wrong thing she wouldn’t mind stomping her foot on your head.

• She gets her ego BOOSTED when you start apologizing, getting guilty and begging for mercy when your under her terrifying wrath, even if her insults don’t really mean much when she’s taking her anger out on you or hurting you she’ll say the most nastiest names towards you, but after those happen she’ll try her best to comfort you (she doesn’t really want you to see that she turned soft for you) and awkwardly rubbing your shoulders to stop you from crying.

• When she needs to take her anger out on you she will start forcing to have sex with you… she does want you to feel pain, but a way you can distract her is if you’ll just let her sit on your face while you please her the best you can until she has calmed down… she will not go down on you at all but she’ll finger you and let you grind on her if you were good enough, sometimes she does this when she’s torturing you really badly and will shove toys up and make you sore for some days… the only way you’ll get the best treatment from her when you have sex with her is as long as you please her really well and bonus if you do all the things she enjoys.

• Like Ren, she also enjoys teasing you whenever you get mad, it’s so cute to her and it gets her more excited!! You are not even one tiny bit intimidating to her at all… The only person that should be intimidated is you. She loves it when you come crawling to her and begging for her forgiveness, she’ll always forgive you when this happens and you can actually see that her looks soften more when your like that.

• And also like Ren she’ll also spoil you on any type of holidays as well! it’s usually during those times when you’ll get so many new things like new clothes, accessories, and any other stuff that might’ve been too used up or broken by now, she enjoys seeing you all happy, she’s so glad to make her toy giddy, and during those days you won’t be getting tortured or treated badly at all! you better savor those moments that inky happen every year!

• When Celia and you kill her husband together, you’ll ask her to come stay with you, to run away together far away where no one would know, just you two in this cruel world, but she would be so dumbfounded, why after so long of torturing you would you still want her? that was a question that still remains to be answered but she has loved you too much to say no, so she softly and genuinely smiles while saying “Yes”… She definitely thinks you guys are soulmates… something in her heart and head is telling her to not let you go now and never… she’ll never find another like you again and she would enjoy herself just being with you in the end <3

[mxtantrights]

the off the clock kiss

this is a snippet from the famous dc!au that started with The Greatest Hits [read here]  you don’t have to read it but a lot of things would make sense if you do.

You’ve kissed Jason Todd before so you’re not sure why you’re freaking out. It’s the same pair of lips. It’s the same guy. But it is different. 

Before, when you two kissed, it was in front of everyone. Dressed up in costumes and caked in some brutal amount of mascara and concealer and foundation. In front of expensive cameras and microphones. In front of Harvey Dent, renowned director of American rom-coms. 

That was work. 

This? Right now? 

Jason Todd with his back against your front door and you pressed up against him with your tongue in his mouth? Yeah this wasn’t work. Or, it didn’t feel like work. 

He tastes like he looks. Which is a bit dangerous and something ginger or cinnamon dashed. You can’t tell which and honestly you don’t care in this very moment. 

Kissing him feels like time is slowing down in the most peculiar way. You can feel time passing and you don’t want it to end. Not when you have Jason Todd pressed up against you like this. His hands on your waist, giving you soft squeezes.

You pull away first. When you do you notice he’s slow to open his eyes. And he’s got the most dumbstruck look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this before, which is why you like it so much.

You’ve proven to him wrong.

“I think I just proved my point that I can kiss with passion.” you say.

He opens his eyes filly now. Like he’s taking you in- he is actually. It’s hard to miss. He gives your a full once over. And then that signature smirk in on his face like any other time he’s about to reply with something witty.

“So you’ve been holding back on set because you want to defend my honor?” he asks in return.

You hit him over the shoulder and take a step back from him so you’re not chest to chest anymore. Though that doesn’t stop your heart from beating any more wildly than before. He’s still got his hands on you.

“I’m new to acting. I wasn’t just gonna French you in front of the camera!” 

He clears his throat, “Well I wouldn’t have not liked it. But also, you should think about bringing that energy back to set.” 

“Are you- is that a complaint?” you retort. 

He grabs your shoulders, something you didn’t know you wanted to feel until he did it and now that he has you wanna feel it again. You try to pull yourself together for the sake of the conversation.

“Listen, hun, that was definitely not a complaint. I’m just saying maybe we dial it up when the cameras are rolling. This is the sequel after all.” he answers.

You nod you head. And then he’s letting go of you. What you’re thankful for is the sound of the music you had playing earlier in the living room that fills the background or he would’ve picked up the when you let out at the loss of his touch. 

“Have you read page 79?” you ask.

Jason scoffs, “Of course. What do you take me for, a slacker?”

You do. And since you think he really hasn’t read up to that part int he script yet because it’s still early days of filming, you want to have to some fun with him. About a year ago you thought he was going to be a pain in your ass, and you were right for the most part. Now you think you’ll return the favor.

So you smile even though you lips are bit tingly from kissing him. And he smiles back at you innocently. You think to yourself he hasn’t got a clue what page 79 entails at all.

“Great then I guess you won’t mind if I ask Dent to move filming that part Monday?” you ask him.

And he’s nodding his head. Checkmate. 

Jason peels himself off your door and opens it a crack. Then he turns to you “I’ve gotta head out, I’ll see you on Monday.” he says.

You nod too, “Yup. Page 79.” 

“Oscar winning performance incoming I think.” he jokes.

You laugh at that as he walks himself out your door. With a quick reminder you tell him to text you when he gets home and he agrees. When you close it behind him you smile. Not at the joke. Not at you pranking him. No. At the kiss. You can’t believe you kissed him off the clock like that! And with tongue! He basically asked you to show him what passion you could bring to a make-out scene and you did, but damn. 

Now you’re waiting for Monday to prove to Jason Todd once again that you can bring passion to kissing while in camera. And you are absolutely positive he doesn’t know that page 79 is a make-out scene because Jason is in the middle of a Jane Austen binge. He comes to set two hours earlier to read up to twenty pages of the script to get ready for the day and last time you checked he was around page 50. 

This was going to be fun.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Get wasted on me

Eddie Munson x Female Reader 

This is the first time I’m doing anything smutty so please be considerate of that lol 

Summary: Y/N is trying to stop smoking and Eddie, being the amazing boyfriend he that he can be, is willing to help at any cost. 😉

“Stop that” Eddie snatched Y/N’s hand from her mouth, now with her hand being held, she can’t pick at her lip anymore so she starts to chew on her lip instead. “Babe seriously I love you but you’re driving me crazy, you’re going to make your lip bleed again and it just stopped bleeding like an hour ago.” Eddie pulls her bottom lip from between her teeth. “Besides if anyone is biting your lips it has to be me no expectations.” Oh god, now he’s looking smug. Y/N rolls her eyes before reminding him “If you were trying to stop smoking you would be fidgeting too and don’t even deny it” Eddie goes to counterclaim her point but backs down. She isn’t wrong. 

Their attention is drawn back to the movie that they were trying to watch when Eddie has an idea of how to help his girl. Not wanting to scare her off, even though that may be impossible at this point, he slowly starts to trace her bottom lip with his index finger, after a moment or two she opens her mouth lightly to allow him to push it into her mouth. A soft moan passes both of their lips.  Y/N slowly starts to suck on his finger while the movie continued to play and they both think that they solved the problem. And they did for a little bit. 

For the next week or so whenever Y/N began to get fidgety Eddie allowed her to grab his hand and nibble and suck on his fingers. No matter where they were Eddie just let it happen and Y/N was fine with some weird glance here and there if it meant they didn’t reach for a cigarette but even though it’s been helpful Y/N can tell she needs more. And honestly so does Eddie. It’s not his fault! Listen, he's just a young man, and his one weakness is his hot girlfriend softly sucking his fingers okay!? He’s just human and Y/N looked good with her mouth around something. 

Laying in bed Y/N was reading a new novel of hers while Eddie was painting new figures for the next campaign. Eddie happens to look over at Y/N just as she starts to pick at her lips. Scoffing he sets his paintbrush down and goes over to the mattress and just stands over her until she notices him. “Babe? Is everything okay?” Y/N was so wrapped up in her book that she didn’t even notice that her lip was bleeding from the picking. “No. Now listen to me. I am here for you. And I know you are struggling with this but it needs to stop you can’t keep making yourself bleed do you understand? Like that's so not okay.” Eddie is looking down at where she is now sitting up and his glare turned to his puppy dog eyes. “I just worry about you baby.” Y/N knew that Eddie cared about her but it was still nice to hear that he worries about her sometimes as she does for him. “The fingers were helping but it just isn’t anymore and I don’t know what else to do”. Y/N was getting desperate for a resolution she doesn’t think her lips will last much longer if she doesn’t figure something out. “Maybe I should just start smoking again..” “No way! NO you have been working way too hard to stop and I won’t let you pick that habit back up again.” Looking around to try and find a solution for his girlfriend Eddie has a realization. “And besides babe I have something else that we can always let you put your mouth on.” 

A blush forms against Y/N’s cheeks and spread down her neck, Eddie steps closer to the bed and Y/N sits up on her knees. Looking up at Eddie through her lashes while Eddie removes his belt and pulls down his pants leaving his boxers. Pulling Eddie closer to her by his boxers Y/N slowly pulls them down his legs before going back up to his thighs. Softly she begins to leave kisses on each thigh and works her way down. Eddie lets out a soft groan “Don’t tease baby” With a sly smile Y/N moves to get closer to where he wants her to be. She starts softly sucking on his tip while caressing his thighs, as more moans leave Eddie she moves further and further down his shaft and starts to suck on him like she would his fingers. Eddie gets louder with every inch that goes down her throat he doesn’t know how much more he’ll be able to take. Y/N starts to move back up and pulls off with a slight pop before kitty licking his tip. A soft moan leaves Y/N before she admits “I think this might be much more effective”

[spaceprincessem]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

hello love! @alyxmastershipper sent me this as well and i'm finally getting around to answering it! in no particular order:

and i'm not good at winning fights anymore - 24k buddie 5+1 things fic

There’s mud on his hands. There’s mud on his hands and he has to dig deeper, quicker, because Eddie is forty feet beneath him and surely he can’t breathe because the well is gone and Eddie is gone and Buck can’t follow him.

“Eddie,” his throat feels raw, the words wrong to his ears, “Eddie.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, holding onto him, “I'm right here, Buck, I’m right here.”

“I can’t—” Buck breaks off, his trembling, dirty hand in the air and Eddie must understand because he takes Buck's hand without question and pulls it to his chest, right over his heart.

{or five times Buck needs to feel Eddie's heartbeat and the one time Eddie needs to feel his}

2. gravity holds me down - 14.7k buddie fic

“Eddie.”

Eddie jerks out of the moment, pain registering around his bicep where Hen is squeezing him too hard. There’s an edge to her voice, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed as she looks across from where they are standing. Eddie follows her gaze and his entire body freezes.

“Whatever you do,” Hen’s voice is low, dark, “do not let him take Buck.”

Jonah can’t see them from where he’s standing, his back mostly turned as he flashes a light in one of the patient's eyes. Eddie shifts without thinking, blocking Buck and Christopher from view. Fuck the fire, Eddie thinks as he plants himself where he’s standing.

3. blue skies - 36k buddie fic

“Most babies are born as accidents,” She says suddenly, like she’s decided that Buck has passed, that she can trust him with this.

Buck doesn’t really have an answer because that question hits way to fucking close to home. A year or so ago he would have said, yes, I was an accident, so I know how that goes, but Buck knows better now. Knows that he would almost give anything for that answer to still be yes. Evie’s finger works under the seal to rip it open, a stack of important looking papers dumping out onto the table in front of her.

“Not me,” she says without looking up as she organizes them into a neat stack, “I was engineered.”

And.

And Buck’s pretty fucking sure a giant, cataclysmic hole has ripped right open, dragging him down to the earth’s core where he vaporizes into dust.

{or Buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down}

4. and some things you just can't speak about - 42k buddie fic

“Me too.”

Eddie’s surprise at hearing himself speak for the first time since he was introduced isn’t nearly as shocking as realizing that both he and Buck say the same thing at the same time. Eddie trails his gaze up the line of Buck’s neck, watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and finds those glacier lake eyes looking right at him. Eddie’s never been the type of person to stand down. To roll over and bare his belly. He won’t look away, can’t concede to that, but the idea of being seen by a complete stranger is unnerving and Eddie feels a little defenseless. Bobby clears his throat and they both blink out of their strange standoff. Eddie’s flush only burns hotter when he sees Hen and Chim share a look like it’s an entire conversation and something deep and unknown twinkle in Bobby’s eyes.

“That’s something we can all think about for next week,” Bobby smiles knowingly, “where are we stuck in life? And, maybe,” he turns towards all of them, “we just might figure out how to help each other move forward.”

[or the 118 support group therapy au]

5. all roads they lead me here - 39k sterek fic

“Then why wouldn’t you be Derek’s emissary?” Stiles asked. He just wished Deaton would get to the fucking point. He was tired and he hated playing twenty questions to figure out what the older man was getting at.

“Derek’s emissary needs to be someone who he trusts completely,” Deaton explained, “and it’s time I passed on my wisdom and expertise to that person.”

The beat of silence between them stretched for too long before Stiles realized exactly who Deaton was talking about.

“Me?” He asked incredulously.

thank you for the ask 💖

[writerbri-archive]

💛 - fantasy/supernatural + 164. Cage + Buddie

I've had this au on the backburner for a while so it's finally seeing the light of day. Part vampire au, part soulmates au. I hope you enjoy! I'll definitely probably continue it at some point. It was all in a much different tense before so if there are any mistakes in that regard, I'm sorry. I tried to catch it all.

send me a heart and a word for a fic

•••

There was a time when the world was still in the dark about what hid in the shadows. A time when all they had to fear were the monsters they perceived as real. 

Diseases. Accidents. Natural Disasters. People. 

The world is different now. The shadows don’t hide us anymore. People are looking, and they’re afraid.

They should be.

–––––––––

Eddie Diaz steps through the door carefully, knowing that one hasty move can make everything fall apart. He’s worked too hard to get here to let that happen. Harder than anyone can imagine. It hasn’t been easy, finding his way to the darkest, most hidden places of his kind. 

But he’s here now, descending into the dimly lit space as the base of the music reverberates through his very bones. The very center of the floor is taken up by a mass of bodies passing off grinding as dancing, hands wandering and mouths searching. He’s careful to avoid it all. 

That isn’t why he’s here.

Ducking through the crowd, he hears some conversation murmured beneath the music but pays none of it any mind. Words can’t get him what he needs. He has to see to believe. To prove. 

Eddie finds his way to the bar, his hands planting on the solid surface. The bartender blinks to attention as soon as he’s spotted, wandering over to ask what he wants. Before Eddie can answer, a carefully manicured hand comes down on his shoulder.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” a sultry voice croons in his ear.

Ignoring the disgusted shiver that curls down his spine, Eddie turns his head to watch the proprietress of the club perch gracefully on the stool next to him, crossing one leg over the other as the blue and pink strobe lights cast a glow over her already radiant skin. 

Taylor Kelly lifts a slender hand, running it through her silky hair as she gives him a coy smile. Pretending for all the world like she doesn’t know exactly why he was there. After all, she is the one who invited him. Eddie simply lets one corner of his mouth lift slightly, knowing he won’t be able to convincingly charm her if it comes down to it.

Not when he despises everything that she stands for.

“I almost didn’t,” he confesses.

A lie.

He was always going to come.

But she doesn’t have to know that.

“It’s okay,” she says, waving the bartender off. “You’re taking a risk here. We all are. But it’s… worth the reward.”

Her eyes flash with suggestion as the song morphs to a more sultry beat. Eddie glances over the room, disgust unfurling in his chest that he keeps carefully hidden from his face by feigning interest.

“Maybe I should just watch this time,” he says.

There’s no need to fake the nerves in his voice. If he’s caught, he’ll be killed.

Worth the reward.

Taylor’s hand lifts, her cool fingers brushing over his jaw and tilting his head back towards her. Eddie has to fight the urge to pull away, knowing it’s all a part of her game and he has to play along if he wants to see the less legal parts of her operation.

“No watching,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve got something perfect in mind for you.”

Something.

She speaks like what she offers is no more than an object.

Even worse, a product.

“Show me the way,” Eddie says as if he only just made up his mind, hiding how violently his stomach twists.

Taylor looks satisfied, sliding off of her stool. He follows her lead and her hand clasps around his as soon as their feet hit the ground, soft yet unyielding. A reminder of how much danger Eddie is in if he doesn’t do everything right.

“Maybe I’ll even join you,” she says, looking entirely too serious for Eddie’s taste.

“Oh,” he says, swallowing hard.

Eddie didn’t count on that.

It can’t happen.

There’s nothing he can do if someone else is in the room.

But then Taylor lets out a laugh, tossing her head back. Her bright red hair spills down her back, catching on the changing lights above them.

“I know,” she says amusedly, already leading him away from the bar. “I’m not your type.”

There’s something beneath her voice. A hint of mocking. Eddie knows that she looks at him with distaste when she thinks he can’t see. They may be the same in one singular way but in all others, they’re nothing alike.

She’s cruel, that much he knows. Those manicured nails do far more harm than good.

And no, she most certainly isn’t his type.

There was a time that Eddie was too afraid to admit it out loud. That time has long since passed. In a world full of danger, his sexuality is the least of his concerns.

Taylor leads him away from the crowd and Eddie wants nothing more than for her to let go. He knows that it’s some kind of power play. Submitting for now to get what he wants in the end is easy enough to do. 

The doorway they step through leads to a dark hallway lit only by the occasional dim lamp on the wall. There are doors on either side, numbered by silver plates. As they reached the end, Eddie sees that the hallway branches off to the right and left. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on how many doors there are. If everything goes as planned, it’ll all end tonight.

“Here’s yours,” Taylor says, releasing his hand and gesturing to one of the doors. “Enjoy.”

Eddie watches her walk away, narrowing his eyes slightly as she brushes her hand along the wall as if she was careless of the suffering behind them. With a deep breath, Eddie twists the knob and steps inside. The room drips with excess, from the expensive art on the walls to the crystal wine glasses and carved furniture. 

It’s a pretty enough cage, but it’s a cage all the same. 

Thick curtains hang between him and the room’s inhabitant. He can hear short, choppy breaths and the thrum of a quickly beating heart. He hesitates where he stands, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The scent of fear is muted beneath poisonous suppressants that don’t belong in a human body.

It’s everything that he knew to expect.

Eddie moves forward slowly, letting the door fall closed behind him and pushing the curtains aside. There, sitting on a plush leather couch with heavy lidded eyes and too pale skin, is a man. He’s tall, his long legs clad in ripped jeans and sprawled wide. 

His hair looks soft to the touch, curly and mussed enough to make him look every bit as tempting as he smells, and the column of his neck is exposed as he leans his head back against the couch.

Instinct rises deep in Eddie, making his throat burn and his gums itch. He stills in place, letting his eyes fall closed as he breathes through the initial need and regains control over himself. When he looks again, the human’s head is tilted up and his eyes are slightly more aware, looking at Eddie almost curiously beneath the hazy state that the drugs keep him in. 

Eddie steps forward slowly, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. But there is still a spike of fear that tinges the air as he sinks onto the couch. He simply waits, feeling the walls and floor vibrating in time with the now muffled music. He lets the human look at him. Lets him take his fill, all while Eddie does the same. 

In spite of his paleness, the man looks healthy otherwise. His cheekbones aren’t overly pronounced in his face and there isn’t any sign of malnutrition. He seems clean, which means that they at least take some level of care of these people. There are no bite marks that he can see, so the man must have been healed every time.

After taking notice of the rest of him, Eddie finally let himself meet the man’s eyes. 

They’re bright even now, an endless sea of blue in the middle of such a dark place. Eddie feels a deep, longing ache to pull the pain and fear from his gaze. To make him forget that any of this ever happened. But no matter how traumatic the memory, Eddie made a vow long ago never to commit such a violation against a human.

So instead he looks into those eyes and opens his mouth to speak, trying to think of what he could possibly say.

“Hello,” is what comes out, soft and hesitant.

If it weren’t for the man’s confused blink, slow as it is, Eddie would doubt that he heard him at all. He resists the urge to reach out, not wanting to touch the man too soon. God only knows what treatment he’s been subjected to. Eddie has no doubt that the touches he’s come to expect in this place have been anything but kind.

So he keeps his hands to himself.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” he asks, his voice hushed to a bare whisper.

A moment passes. A beat of nothingness. Then the man shakes his head slowly. Eddie takes another breath and speaks again.

“Do you remember how you got here?”

A nod this time. Fear flits through those blue eyes at whatever memory the words drum up. From another room, Eddie hears a muffled, pained cry. His nails dig into his palms as he forces himself to focus on the man in front of him. This is how he can help. Right here and now.

“Did you come here willingly?” Eddie asks.

There it is. The most important question of all. He may have spent more time gathering this man’s trust if it wasn’t for the time limit he’s well aware of and the cry of pain he just heard. The man hesitates, his eyes darting to the curtains and then back to Eddie.

A beat passes.

Then he shakes his head.

And Eddie immediately reaches for his phone.

“What’s your status?” the impersonal voice on the other end questions after exactly three rings.

“Positive,” Eddie answers, his eyes moving to the man as he speaks. “Tear it down.”

The line cuts off and Eddie pockets his phone again before sitting there as still as possible, tense and waiting.

“Who are you?”

It takes Eddie by surprise, finally hearing the man’s voice. His voice is raspy with disuse and the discomfort on his face shows how painful it is to speak after being silenced for so long. Eddie finds himself reaching out before he can help it. 

All it takes is the brush of his fingers over the back of the man’s hand. 

The warm shock that runs from his fingertips all the way down to his toes tells him all that he needed to know, stealing the breath from Eddie’s lungs. If he thought he was angry before, it’s nothing compared to the white hot fury that roars to life, spreading through his veins and making him want to rip apart everyone who had a hand in this. 

Eddie has almost no time to to come to terms with what’s just happened as he fights the bloodthirsty rage that claws through him. 

He still has a job to do.

“I’m here to help,” Eddie says in a slightly strangled voice, not wanting to scare the man now.

He hears a distant bang of a door blown off its hinges followed by panicked and protesting shouts as the music cuts out.

It’s almost over.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Eddie promises, his eyes fixed on the curtain.

There’s nothing but tense silence between them as Eddie flexes his hand, trying his best not to acknowledge what just happened. He never thought he’d feel that shock. Never wanted to experience it either. But now he has and there’s no going back.

Eddie never should have touched him.

The couch shifts and a hand brushes lightly over the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket, yanking him out of his miserable thoughts. Eddie feels guilty when he sees the man flinch but it doesn’t seem to faze him otherwise. He sits up a little more even though it clearly takes a lot of effort.

“Buck,” the man says hoarsely, his eyes fixed on Eddie with hope in their depths. “My name is Buck.”

Eddie feels drawn to him. His very soul aches to reach out and touch. To hold. To possess. He pushes it all down and nods at Buck, knowing he has to say something.

“Special Agent Eddie Diaz,” he says even as he scoots away from Buck, putting space between them before he gives into his overwhelming need. “You’re safe now, Buck.”

–––––––––

Creatures can’t be governed by the same laws and agencies that oversee humans. They have to keep one another in check. 

After the revelation, laws were put into place. Laws that were endlessly debated by humans and non-humans. The more divisive, intolerant sects advocated for something like internment camps. 

That didn’t last long.

Fairer laws were established, designed to protect humans and non-humans alike. The issue of enforcement was discussed for months until, eventually, a department branched off of the FBI, offering the first governmental career opportunity designed specifically for non-humans.

Eddie signed up the day it went into effect.

–––––––––

When he’s is finally able to step outside after evidence is gathered and statements are given, the street is still lit up by flashing lights. Multiple police cars and ambulances line the sidewalks, and the victims of the trafficking ring are all thankfully being treated. Last Eddie heard, they counted eighteen of them. 

The number only feeds into his simmering rage. 

He knows that the best decision is for him to leave and let himself come to terms with everything far away from the scene. But something, or rather someone, keeps him close.

He wishes that wasn’t the case.

Eddie barely has a second to breathe in the cool night air before he senses a familiar presence coming closer. Bosko smirks at him when he turns to meet her gaze, though there’s an underlying relief stirring in her eyes. Eddie can’t blame her. The job that they do is dangerous, and there’s always the fear that any case could be their last.

"Welcome back, Agent Diaz,” she says, whistling at the sight of the expensive suit he wears.

“Thanks,” he says simply, his shoulders slumping just slightly.

It’s always a relief to shrug the burden of undercover work off when they make the necessary arrests. He couldn’t care less about the nice food he gets to eat or the fancy clothes that fill his fake closet. All he wants to do is sleep in his own damn bed.

Bosko understands that better than anyone.

They met when they both joined the department and they were so used to watching each other’s backs that neither of them liked it when the other had to go radio silent for however long it took to build their cover and complete the undercover assignment. 

In Eddie’s case, he’s been gone for over six months trying to create a convincing fake identity. Almost two hundred days of not seeing or talking to any of his friends inside or outside of the bureau.

Their attention is caught by a scuffle near the entrance of the club and they turn in unison to watch as the captured employees are led out of the door one by one. Taylor is last, a deep scowl etched on her beautiful face in spite of the suppressants that bring a haze to her otherwise sharp eyes. 

Two agents lead her out with their hands clasping her arms. Drugged as she is, her gaze falls on Eddie and clears just a bit as her lip curled upwards, her eyes flashing dangerously as she struggles uselessly against the grip keeping her from lunging forward.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she all but hisses at him, her heels clacking across the pavement as they walk her towards an armored van. “You’re fucking dead, you hear me?”

Eddie isn’t usually one to take any last minute threats seriously. Criminals usually like to have the last word and he’s been threatened more times than he can count. But he can’t keep a hold on himself, stepping away from Bosko as the same white hot rage floods him in an instant.

“You’re lucky you made it out of there alive,” Eddie snarls at her, a part of him thankful for Bosko’s restraining hand on his chest. “You deserve to be torn to pieces and you fucking know it.”

“Eddie!”

Bosko’s voice cuts through his fury and he relents, letting them drag Taylor away amidst her spitting curses. His partner’s face swims in his tinged vision, forcing him to focus on her.

“Are you trying to get suspended?” she demands, her voice sharp.

Eddie relents at her words, taking a deep breath and releasing his hands from the fists they’re balled into. Bosko steps back as soon as she sees the surrender in his eyes.

“Put the fangs away, Diaz,” she said, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

Eddie closes his eyes and wills himself to relax. As soon as he feels his fangs retract, he turns away from her and scrapes his hands over his face with a groan.

“I’ve never seen you get that worked up,” Bosko says, her hand brushing over his elbow. “What happened in there?”

He doesn’t look at her, his eyes seeking out the source of his conflict as if his very soul knows exactly where to look. 

He’s there, in the back of one of the ambulances with a blanket wrapped around his broad shoulders as an EMT checks him over. Eddie can’t bring himself to look away. There’s a pull deep in his chest. A voice screaming at him to get closer. But he stays rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the man at the center of his turmoil.

“Eddie?” Bosko says, stepping up beside him.

He inhales slowly, forcing himself to look away.

“That man…” Eddie says, meeting her eyes warily.

“Yeah?” she says, frowning between Eddie and the ambulance.

He refuses to look that way again. It’s getting harder to keep himself away.

“We touched,” Eddie finally says, admitting the truth he’s known since they touched in that dark, horrible room. “And it happened.”

“Oh shit.”

He nods, forcing himself to stay turned away. Something stirs in Bosko’s eyes and he knows what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.

“No,” he shakes his head, turning his back against his instincts. “I won’t do it, Lena.”

“He’s your mate.”

“He’s a human,” Eddie reminds her, as if she needs it. 

A small line forms between her brows as her eyes darted over his face, trying to gauge how serious he is about it.

“You can’t just leave him,” she says bluntly.

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie says, forcing himself not to look again. “Because of what they did to him-”

He cuts off, shaking his head as fury stirs in his blood.

“He doesn’t know,” he repeats.

“He will,” Bosko says with certainty in her voice. “You know he will.”

She’s right. When the suppressants wear off and his mind is able to think clearly without anything dulling it, Buck will undoubtedly feel it. He’ll know.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, forcing his voice to remain level. “I won’t do it.”

With that, he turns away from the man that fate has tethered to him, telling himself that he’s doing the right thing and hoping that he has the strength to stay away.

It’s the best thing he can do for them both.

[tmnt-reticent]

The songs that fit each silly the best from their respective playlists because I’ve been brainrotting over some of these songs so much recently (Raph, Casey and April barely have any songs IM SO SORRY ILL FIND MORE FOR THEM SOON- whenever I get a song rec it’s almost always for Leo or Donnie I was just lucky to find a decent amount of Mikey songs on my own cbsjcbjshcjd-)

You can guess why they fit them but I won’t tell you if you’re right fbsjbcjshck

Leo:

Streaks (ANIMA!), PIN-EYE (Jhariah), Oh No! (MARINA), Memento Mori (Will Wood), Passing Through (Kaden Mackay), Everything I Ever Thought I Knew (Zachery Levi), What The World Needs (Ride The Cyclone), A Sadness Runs Through Him (The Hoosiers), Goddamn Staying Power (Mother Mother), Explode! (Mother Mother), End Of Me (Mother Mother, specifically first verse and chorus), despair (leo.), She Used To Be Mine (Sara Bareilles), Top Of My School (Katherine Lynn-Rose), I/Me/Myself (Will Wood), Days (Mother Mother), Magic (MILGRAM)

THERES TOO MANY THAT FIT HIM PERFECTLY ISTG 😭😭😭 There’s so many others on his playlist (he has almost the entire Grief Chapter Album, same with Mikey) but these are the ones I feel fit him the best

Out of all of these I would say Passing Through, Streaks or PIN-EYE are his theme song but bro has way too many choices

Raph:

Maybe It’s My Fault (WILLOW), So Big/So Small (Rachel Bay Jones), I Really F**led It Up (girli), I’d Give Anything (Mandy Moore), Meteor Shower (Cavetown)

I wasn’t lying when I said there wasn’t a lot of Raph songs it’s bad fr 💀💀💀 ILL FIND HIM MORE EVENTUALLY

His theme song is 100% Maybe It’s My Fault, it was my top played song on Spotify last year because I was literally brainrotting over it for him for MONTHS. Bro feels so guilty 24/7/365 and none of it was even his fault.

Mikey:

God’s Plan (Mother Mother), End of Me (Mother Mother, specifically second verse and chorus), Nobody Escapes (Mother Mother), Normalise (Mother Mother), Wrecking Ball (Mother Mother), Sunsets (Jhariah), Art Is Dead (Bo Burnham), Look Who’s Inside Again (Bo Burnham), Love, Me Normally (Will Wood), Sweet Hibiscus Tea (Penelope Scott), Mirror Man (Jack Stauber), 2econd 2ight 2eer (Will Wood)

Mirror Man has basically been his theme song since I started writing Reticent but God’s Plan, Nobody Escapes, Art Is Dead and the end of Love, Me Normally fit him SO INSANELY WELL (especially God’s Plan and Nobody Escapes I have been listening to those constantly since they released partially because I was about to go see Mother Mother but also because I was brainrotting over them for Ret Mikey SO HARD)

If I had to pick one it would probably still be Mirror Man but God’s Plan is SO close to overtaking it

Donnie:

Outliars and Hyppocrates (Will Wood), Rät (Penelope Scott), Partner In Crime (Madilyn Mei), Interlude:I’m Not Angry Anymore (Paramore), Boys Will Be Bugs (Cavetown), dumb dumb (mazie), brutal (Olivia Rodrigo), Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage (Fish in a Birdcage), Waiting in the Wings (both of and reprise, Eden Espinosa), Sparkbird (Sparkbird), Laplace’s Angel (Will Wood), BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA (Will Wood), I Can’t Handle Change (Roar), What’s Wrong With Me? (Ashley Park), Run Rabbit Run (The Hoosiers), Magic (MILGRAM)

Most of these fit Season 2 Part 1 Donnie in particular so I’ve been having a hard time picking a specific one as his theme song but I think Boys Will Be Bugs would fit pretty well

April:

Hayloft II (Mother Mother), Lew’s Lullaby (Ritt Momney), Cut The String (Mother Mother), Feel Better (Penelope Scott), Goodbye Until Tomorrow/I Could Never Rescue You (Anna Kendrick, Jeremy Jordan), Meteor Shower (Cavetown), Anybody Have A Map? (Rachel Bay Jones, Jennifer Laura Thompson)

April has the same issue as Donnie where a lot of her songs are more specific moments rather than her as a whole, but it’s worse for her since she has way less songs than he does dbskcbkshc- Cut The String is probably the one that would fit the best as a theme song though since even though it is meant to be for a specific moment she does have a tendency to run away from her problems instead of solving them

Also side-note, I do have an unfinished April animatic to Goodbye Until Tomorrow/I Could Never Rescue You because my The Last Five Years hyperfixation came back shskvcjsgfjd- I’m unsure if I’ll finish it cause it’s pretty old now but even if I don’t finish it I’ll still post the WIP!

Casey:

Little Big Boy (Madds Buckley), Bring It On (MILGRAM), Good Kid (Chris McCarrell), Sunsets (Jhariah), Meteor Shower (Cavetown), YELLOW (Yoh kamiyama), Dead Mom (Sophia Anne Caruso)

Him and April have the same amount of songs that fit them the best out of their playlists omigosh twinsiesssss dbskcbskhcjd

His theme song is Little Big Boy absolutely 200% it fits him so perfectly I love it so much for him

[imstillhere-butallislost]

10 months on low dose Androgel timeline

I think the last one I did of these was at 7 months, oops. I started on 1 pump of 1% androgel, which has 12.5 mg of testosterone in each pump. Since December, I have been on 2 pumps a day. I have yet to have any blood work done, so i don’t know my levels. 

This is a timeline of the most recent, biggest changes. I have other posts about my earlier timeline in my Testosterone gel tag.

The *biggest* change these past few months have been my voice. It’s changed drastically from February to now, but I think it’s actually sort of levelled out recently. It was hard to speak loudly for a most of February and March, because my voice would try to go higher but I just didn’t have that range anymore, so it would crack or just, make no sound at all. I think, for the most part, that is over. I think this was just one voice drop and im sure more will come (I still sound androgynous too, but that could be because of speaking mannerisms rather than voice) but I’ve learned how to talk with my lower voice now, and can speak loudly without the problems i used to have. 

i went from my lowest, median, and highest of my voice being 176hz, 215hz, and 255hz respectively, to 96hz lowest, 137hz median, and 179hz highest, but those numbers do fluctuate a bit depending on day which is normal. It’s strange to see what used to be the lowest my voice went when talking is now the highest it goes. It’s been really great. 

I will say, that I am now at the point where i cannot play it off like im sick or anything when people ask about my voice. I have been specifically asked if i’m on testosterone, and people I haven’t seen in a while are shocked at my voice now. If you are someone thinking about low dose T to hide changes for as ling as you can from unsupportive people, I only got 10 months, and many people get less. you cannot guarentee when you will get what changed.

on to things besides voice. 

My arm and hand veins are,, extremely prominent when I get warm. It’s really interesting, gives me huge euphoria, but is also really weird to look at. 

My period hasn’t stopped yet, still gotten a lot lighter though which has been great.

My face has definitely changed, but in a way where it’s hard to tell what exactly has changed. i just know i look different. I just can’t really place how. My eyebrows are thicker, my skin looks different, but there’s something bigger that is just hard to see. 

I still don’t really pass in public, long hair androgynous voice and no binder will do that, but i’m really liking how everything is going so far. Genuinely I think going on T has just cured my depression??????? I’m only normal sad like once a month, not thinking about offing myself once a day. I didn’t think testosterone would change so much about how I feel, but it’s made me feel so much more calm and rational. I have a good grasp on my emotions, and they don’t consume me anymore. I’m able to think past them and make good decisions without letting my depression or anxiety or anger rule out my rational brain. That won’t be the experience for everyone, but it is mine. and it has been great. 

Also maybe expect a trans tape review soon idk, I’m getting some because my binder fits me on paper, but irritates my arms sooo much that it’s hard to wear. 

Feel free to ask any questions, I’d be happy to answer

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Vicarious (Part 14)

Azula can’t recall the last time she has been this close to someone. Even during their bath, she had managed to keep Sokka at arms length, not she is holding him in her arms and it couldn’t possibly feel any stranger.

At some point he had gone silent, at least now she doesn’t have to grit her teeth and listen to the sound of her own crying. It is such a horrible, ugly, painful sound. A sound that puts all kinds of knots in her belly. 

She didn’t want Sokka to cry if for no other reason than not wanting to hear it. Not wanting to see it. She doesn’t like how she looks when she cries, the way that her face reddens and bunches up. She is not a dainty, graceful crier like her mother had been, like even Zuko is. And now that Sokka has gone silent and near limp, it’s almost worse. She looks so fragile, even to her own eyes. Her cheeks are decorated with red streaks and lines of black makeup run down her face. 

She dabs those cheeks dry with her sleeve. Remembering only in retrospect that Sokka might not want his sleeves stained with makeup. He closes his hand around hers and squeezes tightly.

“When did you guys get here?” She hears Jin ask and her body tenses all over again, a chill vibrating up and down her spine.

“Almost the whole time.” Katara says quietly.

And she goes cold all over. It doesn’t matter if they had arrived at the beginning or somewhere in the middle. Either which way, they saw her cry. Just as they are seeing Sokka holding her. They don’t know that it is happening the other way around and she isn’t sure if that is better or worse. Sokka doesn’t let go of her hand and she can’t bring herself to tug out of his grasp. 

For the first time, she sees dread on their faces. Dread and maybe, if she is not mistaken, guilt as they look upon the trembling body in her arms. She wishes with all of her soul that Sokka would stop crying. She’d rather have him march right up to them and apologize. That would be less humiliating than the sobbing. 

“You have to stop now.” She whispers in his ear. 

He has to because the sound of his cries is destroying her thrice over. Once in having to see exactly how she looks when she cries, how small and helpless and week. Twice in realizing that her struggles are so hard to wrestle with that they can break someone who has no real attachment to them. Thrice in that this person who she shouldn’t care for is in so much pain. And to some extent it is her fault. “Please stop crying.” She murmurs. 

“I can’t.” He says quietly back. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m not the type of person who can be alone. I need friends.”

And maybe these words have such an edge because they very well could come from the back of her mind where the rest of the things she has repressed dwell. 

She likes to think that she is better off alone but up until Mai and TyLee had left her, she has always done her best work with companions at her side. 

“I-I’ll be your friend, okay?” She tries, she hopes that she doesn’t sound as desperate as she is beginning to feel. She needs to get this under control. Agni, it is already too late for that! “You won’t be alone. Jin will also be your friend.”

The other woman’s mouth opens and then closes. Azula’s heart leaps. But when she finally does speak, her words are a breath of fresh air. “Yeah. I’ll…keep you company sometimes.” 

“You will?” Sokka murmurs. 

Perhaps Jin will keep his spirits up so she won’t have to worry about another moment like this. 

Jin nods. “Sure. I’m not going to tolerate any pushy behavior.” 

Azula tries to pass Sokka off to Jin, but the man clings stubbornly and maddeningly to her. With her own body still in her arms, she gets to her feet. “I’m going to take her to her room.” She doesn’t spare Sokka’s friends a passing glance.

The whole palace seems quiet now. Silent as though it too is waiting, anticipating how this will all play out. There is only the crackle of the various fire pits in the guest bedrooms. Azula reaches her own and carefully sets Sokka down on the mattress. Facedown, with his cheek against the pillow. 

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping, I can tell.” She mentions. “Try sleeping on your stomach with your arms like this.” She positions one of his arms beneath the pillow and the other between his cheek and the pillow. She pulls the blankets up to his shoulders.

It is the most care she has given to her body in a while now. It is the most care that she has ever afforded to someone who isn't herself.

“This is really comfortable.” He admits, his voice still hitching. Cracking particularly when he adds that uncomfortable positioning isn’t why he hasn’t been sleeping.

“I know.” She replies quietly. “But sometimes it helps.” It is fascinating how sleep eventually comes when the situation becomes familiar and then numb. She realizes that she doesn’t want Sokka to know what that feels like. 

She sits on the edge of the bed with her hand on his back until he falls asleep. 

.oOo.

She is terrified when Aang suggests inviting her to dinner. Every time they have tried to include her it has been a disaster whether it was she or Sokka captaining the ship. She can’t see this playing out much differently. 

But she watches Sokka make himself comfortable at the table, he picks a spot between she and Jin and almost immediately hunches over and buries his face in his arms. She thinks that he has a perfect understanding now of how pointless it all is. Even if they invite him to dinner he is only there until they grow tired of him. 

By now he doesn’t seem to be interested in talking to his own friends. 

By now, the rosy tint is wearing off and she doesn’t particular want to converse with them either.

The conversations that had elevated her mood just a few days ago are becoming laborious after watching from the outside how they treat her. She speaks to them only out of a sense of duty, to maintain those friendships on Sokka’s behalf. 

Aang is the first to speak, he always is. Of all of them, she likes him the most. She might even say that she considers him to be something of a very, very distant friend. At the very least, she doesn’t resent him. “We’ve been really hard on you, haven’t we?”

And because she is in Sokka’s body she has no problem leaning back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest, and propping her feet up on the table in the exact manner that drives her absolutely mad when she catches him do it. Because she is in his body she has no qualms about uttering, “no shit.” 

Attention shifts to him. 

“Right.” Mai begins. “You’ve been talking to her lately, haven’t you?”

She nods. 

“And you let her get into your head?”

She has to stop herself from laughing the sort of laugh that borders on hysterics. 

“You know that she lies.” Zuko says uncertainty. 

“She didn’t have to say a word.” Azula shrugs. “I just had to sit back and watch.”

To her surprise, Katara gives an uncomfortable shift and makes a terribly uncomfortable point. “I don’t think that the whole…wrist thing…”

“Suicide attempt.” Sokka cuts in. “You can call it what it was.” In lead in, inflection, and blunt word choice, it is so uncannily like her. She swallows, Sokka may well just be losing himself. Agni, for the first time she considers that she won’t have to worry about him trying to find a way to swap back. 

Tension that already had the consistency of molasses, becomes that much thicker. That much harder to wade through. But Katara, pushes through the liquid. “Yes.” She clears her throat. “I don’t think that, that was a lie.”

There is something in her eyes. 

A look. 

A dullness.

Something distant.

Something haunted.

For the first time Azula wonders just how much Katara is repressing for herself. She can’t imagine that it was anything less than horrifying to have a limp and dying body carried to her. She wonders if the woman thinks about it now and then, replays the moment in her head just as it plays out in Azula’s own nightmares. She wonders if that’s one of the many things that keeps Sokka from sleeping.

And the silence descends once more. 

What is to be said for that?

For as much as Azula has done to hurt them, they can’t say that they haven’t damaged her right back. Maybe she is a monster. But it might be that she is just one of many. It could be that they are all horrible people. At least she has the decency to see herself for what she is. 

The silence becomes absolutely choking and that is precisely how she knows that she has said something to that effect out loud. They are all staring at her. Sokka is staring at her. “At least she…” Azula had pointed at her own body. “Knows what she is.” That is the sentence that echos about the room. That is the sentence that has spoiled a dinner that never had a chance to be pleasant. 

“You all pretend to be such nice people.” Sokka mutters. “Forgiveness this, forgiveness that. I think that all of you are trying to kill me…” rather get her to kill herself. “It wouldn’t have mattered would it have?”

Azula tenses. This is the question that has been burning on her tongue. The one that she is terrified to ask. Were she not petrified with dread, she might have stood and left. 

“If I died that day, you wouldn’t have cared.” It isn’t a question. “You all would have been relieved.”

“Princess...” Jin whispers. 

Sokka shakes his head. “No. I want to know!”

But she doesn’t, not at all. She feels sick. Sick and trapped because Sokka would have no reason to flee the discussion. She wouldn’t want to explain her sudden departure. 

“How long would you pretend to be sad for?” 

“Azula.” Zuko begins just as quietly as Jin. “We wouldn’t have wanted that. We wouldn’t have been happy.”

“But you aren’t doing anything to keep it from happening again.” He says flatly. “You’re making it so easy to give it another try.”

Azula’s blood runs completely cold. He isn’t actually…? He can’t be. He hasn’t occupied her body for that long. But he also isn’t equipped in any way to handle the things that she needs to handle. He isn’t numb like she is. 

Suddenly she isn’t certain of what sort of state he will emerge in if they switch back. 

Suddenly she isn’t certain if happy, goofy Sokka exists anymore. 

She has destroyed him without having to do anything at all. 

She reaches for his hand. He squeezes hers so tightly. 

He needs touch. 

She needs touch.

She has needed it for so, so long.

When she looks up she sees that Zuko is crying. She furrows his brows. “Did you even know?” Azula asks. “Did Katara even tell you?” 

Zuko shakes his head. 

Spirits! She knew that he was oblivious but this? This is a brand new level. “What did you think the bandages were for!?”

“She uses wrist wraps when practicing her bending.” Zuko mutters. “It’s not out of the ordinary to see.”

She supposes that he has a point there. 

“Why didn’t you mention it, Sokka?” Now he sounds accusatory. He needs to shift the blame, put it on someone else because at the end of the day, he is soft. The guilt will eat him alive. It has to be someone else’s fault. 

“I thought that Katara told you.”

Katara shakes her head. “I didn’t think that it was my place.”

“Not your place?” Jin asks. “I feel like keeping secrets is a little different when that’s the kind of secret.” 

“Wow this is a mess.” Toph grumbles. “I just wanted to enjoy some dumplings.” 

“Can’t you be serious for one conversation!” Sokka snaps. “Just one!” 

Azula wonders how many times Toph has made a tactless joke at the wrong time.

“Just trying to lighten the mood.” She lifts her hand.

“Have you considered that some moods shouldn’t be lightened?” Sokka hisses. “Maybe some things should be serious.” 

She wonders if he is addressing Toph or if he is scolding himself. She wonders what TyLee would say if she were here and not off with Suki.

Katara nods. “Yeah. Maybe some things should be serious.”

To Azula’s dismay Sokka is in tears all over again. She rubs her hands over her face. The knots in her stomach tighten even further when he moves himself closer to her. He expects her to comfort him, Agni, he expects her to comfort him…

In her life she has seen many make or break moments. Omashu, Ba Sing Se, Sozin’s Comet…the list is almost endless. In the grander scheme of things this is such a small thing. But she knows it for what it is. If she takes him into her arms now then it will put a new spin on things. She will have an in. 

The one that Sokka has been trying to push her towards this whole time. The one that she had been nervous to take for a good many reasons. 

She doesn’t want Sokka to be in control of her life at a time like this. 

Against her every instinct she takes him into her arms once again and holds his head against her chest. She can almost pretend like Sokka isn’t there; can almost pretend like she is giving herself the love that she has craved for so long. 

Whether they like it or not, as far as they know, Sokka has grown fond of Azula. As far as they know, Azula has grown fond of Sokka too. 

True to her word, Jin takes hold of Sokka’s hand. It is more love and comfort than she has ever received and it isn’t even the one receiving it. She fends off a twinge of jealousy. 

“Since when were the two of you so close?” Mai asks.

“Since I found her bleeding.” The best lies are the ones that are true at the same time. 

“You’re going to be alright, Azula.” Aang promises. 

“How?” Sokka mumbles into her chest. 

“We’ll give you a chance. A real chance. Right?” He looks around the table. Each nod is as reluctant as the next, save for Zuko who has the politeness to agree right away. “I think that we all have a lot to talk about.”

It had only taken watching her break, truly and totally. 

She only had to bleed for them.

[oracleflown]

stephcass week, day 2: first kiss

short fic i banged out in an hour because Feelings. happy stephcass to all who celebrate

cross-posted to ao3 !!

synopsis: Steph is back in Gotham. It's no secret. Cass wants to leave Gotham. Now they'll share a secret.

It’s… Well, it’s not really a secret anymore. Stephanie is back in Gotham, going to school, living it up every night as Spoiler. Once again. One more chance. She studies, goes to parties, and takes every opportunity to punch criminals as hard as she can. 

So, it’s not a secret. She’s not dead. Never really was. She’s not trying to hide it.

Steph has always been the type to look opposition in the face and not back down. It doesn’t matter who’s pissed at her, it doesn’t matter what she did, this, Spoiler, is who she is and she can’t run from it anymore. Why would she try to hide it?

Confronting the past is easier on paper. 

Cassandra watches her silently from behind her dark mask. When she is Batgirl, she is impossible to read. Nearly imperceptible at all. Steph thinks that’s probably the point. She can’t even bring herself to look at her friend, but she feels her eyes trained on her back.

They’re standing on a fire escape, silent. Classic, Steph thinks. The apartment window beside them is dark, building abandoned. Steph watches the street, the only movement from the shadows of cars and people passing by in under yellow street lamps. How Gothic.

Stephanie pulls back her hood.

It’s been no secret, but that doesn’t make Stephanie feel any less guilty. Not just guilty for what she did, her own lack of thought, her own recklessness, but also for running away. She never told her friends, the very people she did what she did for, that she was okay. Alive, at least.

There was a reason she ran, and she would never regret accepting Leslie’s help (there’s not a lot of options left for you after you’ve so royally screwed up). Still, there had been a part of her, all this time, that ached specifically for Cass, for the connection they shared. 

“Spoiler,” is all that Cass says. 

When Steph turns around, she’s surprised to see that her friend has also pulled back her hood. She is biting her lip, and her eyes are filled with a kind of sadness that Steph wouldn’t need to be a master of body language to see. 

“Batgirl.”

It’s been no secret, but maybe Cass was still surprised when she found out. Maybe Cass had wanted the rumors so badly to be true that believing in them felt like all the confirmation she needed to know they weren’t. Maybe Cass had dreamed of this. Of reunion. Guilt washes over Steph’s whole body.

“I missed you.” Cass says. “So much.”

Steph pulls her into a hug. At first, she feels Cass stiffen. Then she relaxes. Then she hugs back.

“I missed you too,” Steph whispers into her friend’s neck. 

–

It’s only a couple months later, but it feels like little eternities every time they are apart. Yes, it hurts to miss something, someone, you don’t think you can have anymore, but it hurts even more to know that they’re out there, waiting for you. 

Still, there are cases to work, paths to cross, games of tag to play across rooftops. Steph and Cass can still work well together. They spend time together at night when Cass isn’t busy working for Barbara and Steph isn’t busy with school. To put it another way, they don’t get to see each other very often. 

Steph has been avoiding Barbara, too afraid to face her wrath. Really, she’s been avoiding most of the Bats, except for Tim. And Cass, of course. They were both so ready to forgive her, in a way that she imagines would be hard for the others. 

Cass, who has always been slightly distant, becomes even more so. Bruce is dead, Steph has picked up that much. It’s not like it’s a secret.

It’s raining that night, but Steph won’t even remember that. All she remembers in the lead-up is a cryptic text from Cass, an address and a time. Steph arrives five minutes early.

When Cass arrives, she seems closed off, like she’s shutting down. Her movements seem stiff where they would usually be smooth, relaxed, around Steph. And, as a master of body language, she’s gotten pretty good at masking her own. Steph instantly knows something is deeply wrong. 

The conversation isn’t long, and there isn’t a lot Steph can even say. Cass has made up her mind. 

After she’s shoved the Batgirl costume into Steph’s hands, she turns around to, presumably, disappear. The rain is tapering off, and Steph wipes it from her face onto her sleeve.

Steph drops the costume to the rooftop and steps close behind Cass. She freezes and Steph comes around to face her, gripping her shoulders. 

“Listen to me,” Steph says. “You don’t have to do this. You could stay.” Stay with me, are the words between the lines.

“I don’t want to.” Cass avoids Steph’s eyes, staring at her shoes.

“I didn’t want to either, but… This life, this craziness, it isn’t so easy to shake off. It will follow you.” Steph makes promises easily, she speaks so easily. But this has weight.

Cass’ head dips at the mention of Steph’s death. Her brow wrinkles.

“Let go of me,” she says without malice. Steph doesn’t. Cass, trained assassin, trained fighter, doesn’t make any move.

“I can’t let you leave,” Steph admits. “Not after I came back with no one to go to. Not after you were there for me, accepted me.”

Steph feels her breath become shaky. Her body feels cold, distant, her entire attention focused on the moment, on Cass’ pained expression. “You’re my best friend,” she says. 

“You’re mine, too.”

Rarely the initiator, Cass pulls Steph into a tight hug. “I think I need you.”

“I think I need you, too.”

Cass sighs, heavy. Her posture slumps. Water tracks down her face. “I have to leave, Stephanie. Nothing makes sense anymore. I have to figure out why.”

“Please don’t leave,” Steph all but begs. “You can stay here. Figure things out here.”

“I can’t.”

“Then…” Steph struggles to find the right words. There’s too much severity in Cass’ voice. Too much finality. It can’t just end like this. A crazy thought occurs to her. “You’ve still never been kissed, right?”

“Well…” 

“Whatever,” Steph cuts her off. “Just kiss me. Now. And remember that I’m here, waiting for you. Please.”

Cass doesn’t say anything, face screwed up in sadness. Finally, she meets Steph’s eyes. There’s a plea there, one that Steph will think about for the rest of her life. Cass wants Steph to understand, but Steph doesn’t know if she can. Not after she’s gone and come back and nothing has really changed.

Cass wants it all to change. Maybe things have changed. Steph can’t accept it.

She also wants understanding. She wants Cass to understand why she came back, why she was always coming back, why she couldn’t stay away.

Steph forced things to change. They didn’t. Cass doesn’t want to accept it.

Still, Cass leans gently forward, and kisses Steph. It’s soft at first, just a brush of lips. Steph pushes into it and then it’s full and everything and the best kiss she’s ever had. Warmth spreads across her face, her chest, and soon it’s all she can feel. Cass’s hand slides up the back of Steph’s head, pushing through her hair, pushing them closer together. 

Finally, they come up for air. Steph wants to stay in this moment forever.

“I love you,�� Steph blurts. 

“I love you too.” Cass smiles, bittersweet. “Thank you. For waiting for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Steph reaches up to feel her face, confirming the blush that’s there. 

She’s the one who turns away first, walking past Cass to where she’s abandoned the costume. Even though it’s ripped, fabric worn, Steph can imagine herself in it. She can picture herself honoring the legacy Cass has left her. When she turns around, after a while, Cass is gone.

She’ll be back, Steph thinks. I just have to hold down the fort until then. 

The memory of the kiss stays on her skin.