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bgomtori · 7 months ago

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☆ casual - cbg

synopsis -> was everything casual? or something more?

-> beomgyu x afab!reader

-> friends to lovers?.. "more than friends less than lovers." angst, fluff, suggestive

-> warnings! situationship typa problems :( , self-harm, implications of self isolation, beomgyu can be an ass if you think about it.

-> note! this has been on my mind for a while now, sooo as a way to comeback to tumblr, i'm writing this :D BUT IM BACCKKKK!! i actually have 1 paper left but it's fairly easy to score soo i have a LOTT of time to write now!! also i'm really rusty right now SO IM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES 😞🙏🙏

was it casual now?

beomgyu was confusing, so confusing. one second he’s all over you and affectionate, the next he’s just friendly and nice. you’ve always tried to let it slide but it has been eating you whole from the inside, no ‘platonic’ friend would do this, what the hell does he want from you. a relationship? a regular friendship? you can’t even answer it, not even your mutual friends can answer that question. you’ve constantly been caught in the pretense of a friendship or something deeper, you definitely wanted the latter.

beomgyu has always been close to you, you met him in middle school, at the playground, where he invited you to play a lame game of ‘freeze tag’ with a bunch of his friends. fortunately, or unforturnately, the friendship stayed throughout the years of ups and downs, but now you are stuck with the constant thought of, ‘is this something friends normally do with each other?’. how can it be casual when you know how soft his lips were against your skin, how he tasted like, how his body felt like against yours? these questions were left unanswered.

was it casual when you kissed all my scars and told me that there was more of me to love?

highschool was a rough time for you, having to balance studies, co-curriculars and your social life was not easy. you often found yourself mentally drained, and always out of it. beomgyu noticed all of these signs, yet you wouldn’t tell him anything, which eventually upset him. what was so secretive to the point you had to hide it from him. your best friend.

beomgyu needed to know, he didn’t want you to suffer alone, he wanted to be your light, your pillar of support. he went over to your house one day, just to chill. as soon as you opened the door, he noticed how detached you seemed, he could see it in your eyes even if you looked perfectly normal. he shut the door behind him, following you up to your room after greeting your parents. when he entered your room, he was shocked to see how messy it looked, which was unlike you at all.

“sorry for the mess, i didn’t have time to clean up at all..” you mumbled a quiet apology, sitting on your bed, looking up at him as he stood there.

“no, it’s alright.” beomgyu shook his head, making his way to your bed, sitting beside you. his eyes scanned your figure, before falling onto your arms. there were scars, scratches? no. he knew it wasn’t that, no cat would scratch a person that many times at the same spot. beomgyu’s eyebrows furrowed, how did he not notice? was he blind?

“yn. let me see your arm.” beomgyu asked, his voice sounded firm and worried. you started to panic, you forgot to cover them up before he came.

“it’s nothing beomgyu..” you denied it, unable to make eye contact with him, the floor of your room suddenly being the most interesting thing you’ve ever chanced upon.

“i’m not dumb yn.” you’ve never heard him this serious before, you reluctantly extended your arm to his direction, letting him inspect it. beomgyu winced at the sight, some were fresh, some were old and recovering. he shifted closer to you, his hands intertwining with yours.

“please.. tell me everything, all your worries and concerns, i don’t want you to suffer in silence anymore yn, you’re very dear to me.” beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your knuckles as if reassuring you that everything is going to be alright. your breath hitched, words stuck in your throat as yout lips quivered slightly. beomgyu noticed this, pulling you close and hugging you. his tight embrace triggered something in your head since you started to bawl your eyes out, letting out everything at once.

beomgyu listened intently, his chin rested on top of your head as he rubbed your back consolingly. he didn't care if you stained his shirt with your tears and snot, he just wanted you to be okay, to find solace in his presence.

after a while, you finally calmed down, your breathing becoming more steady. beomgyu lifted you up from his chest slightly, looking at your red, puffy eyes and pouty lips. his thumb carressed your cheek, wiping away the stray tear that fell from your eye. beomgyu's hand fell from your cheek to your arm, rubbing it.

"you're so strong, i'm proud of you for coping this much.." his words were genuine, so.. comforting. he took your arms, leaving chaste kisses on your scars. at this point, you felt as though the words 'let me kiss your pains away' had come to life. your heart began to race at the sheer feeling of his lips against yours.

"there's more of you to love, so please don't look down on yourself like that again. if you ever feel like your world is crashing, come to me, i'll always be here for you yn." beomgyu mumbled in between his kisses on your arm, his words providing you with perfect reassurance.

the words, "yeah.. i will." was all that you could utter out. beomgyu smiled against your skin, pulling away as he brought you closer to him again, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

"that's my girl."

was it casual when we went stargazing and you told me that my eyes reminded you of the galaxy?

beomgyu knew you loved space, you've always had a fixation on them, whether it's about meteor showers or the stars beyond, you'd always talk about them. thus, on one random day, he brought you out to a secluded field, away from the chaos in the city.

"why are we here?" you asked beomgyu, following him closely through the grassy field. beomgyu smiled at you.

"stargazing, you told me you've always wanted to do it, so i decided to do my research." beomgyu said, his eyes looking up at the sky, "saw that this place was perfect for stargazing, plus it's close to our neighbourhood, so why not."

you felt your heart skip a beat, he actually listened to your constant whining about wanting to go stargazing but not having anyone to go with. you allowed beomgyu to drag you to the perfect spot, in the middle of the field, to just sit and stare at the stars. the two of you talked as per usual, ranging from harmless bickering to deep talks. your heart swelled in contentment, continuing to watch the stars shine back at you.

little did you know, while you were rambling, beomgyu would take his gaze away from the night sky and look at you, admiring the way your eyes would light up everytime you talked about something you liked.

"y'know, your eyes remind me of the galaxy." beomgyu suddenly muttered out, your eyes widened, along with his. he could feel his ears growing warmer with each passing second.

"huh?" you looked at him, still in disbelief.

"i meant what i said.." beomgyu sheepishly admitted glancing back at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked at him. he smiled to himself, before looking back at the pretty night sky.

"yeah i definitely meant that.."

was it casual when you kissed every inch of my body, comparing me to the stardust i was made of?

"do you trust me?" beomgyu whispered, his eyes softening at the way you looked at him. you gave him a quick nod, giving him some sort of approval.

he looks at you with affection and tenderness, each glance warming you to your core. his hand reaches out, fingertips grazing along your jawline. his gaze dips down to your lips, closing off the distance between the two of you. as his lips finally met yours, the kiss was slow, gentle, filled with unspoken emotions, his hands cupping your face carefully as if you were glass. beomgyu was savouring every moment of this, the world around him disappearing.

he pulled away, just to look at your flustered face and to catch his breath. you looked ethereal in his eyes, from the way your lips were swollen from the kiss to how red the apple of your cheeks were. without saying anything, he pulled you in for more. his tongue pushing past your parting lips, exploring your mouth. he pushed you slightly, making you lean on the headrest of your bed.

beomgyu continued on, leaving opened-mouth kisses along your jawline, moving down to your neck and collarbone.

"you're perfect.. so pretty." he mumbled against your skin, his hands intertwining with yours. he lifted his head to look at you, smiling at you fondly, he added on, "you're like stardust, so quiet yet filled with depth and light.."

"since when were you so poetic." you joked, looking straight into his eyes, it was corny, but it made your heart race. beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head.

"not sure, it just comes to mind when i'm with you." he shrugged, his lips meeting your forehead, placing a gentle kiss. your eyes roamed his face, scanning it for no particular reason, you words coming out without even thinking.

"what are we?" your voice was soft, barely a whisper. beomgyu looked at you, raising an eyebrow, "friends. are we not?" your throat went dry at his non-chalant response, fuck you hated it. you were disappointed, at him and at yourself, how could he do all this without any attachment? and why did you wish for so much?

"right.." you mumbled under your breath, letting him kiss you again.

is it casual now?

now that you're older, you noticed how beomgyu runs around, talking to other girls, not bothering about your feelings and the relationship between the both of you. you were pissed, he still had the decency to kiss you behind closed doors, but act differently around you infront of others.

he was in your dorm, laying down beside you, his arms wrapped around your waist loosely, giving you light pecks on your lips. however, you stopped him.

"beomgyu, we can't keep doing this." you pushed him off, scanning his face for any reaction. he looked at you slightly stunned, speechless.

"what?"

"i mean what i said, we need to stop this, you can't keep acting like we're not more than friends. i'm tired of it, it hurts you know." you explained yourself, letting your emotions get the best of you. beomgyu still looked at you speechless, unable to say anything, you took this as a sign to continue.

"if you only see me as a girl that you can just screw around with, then our friendship is done. if the 12 years of us being friends mean nothing to you, then we can stop all of this." beomgyu's eyes widened at your words, panic filling his eyes.

"no, no please don't.. i really didn't mean to hurt you, i'm so sorry." beomgyu shook his head, "please don't leave me, you're everything to me. i'm sorry that i felt you in the dust, i'm sorry that i flirted with other girls, knowing that i might hurt your feelings, i'm sorry for neglecting your feelings everytime. i'll change please yn.."

he was desperate, he couldn't bear seeing you leav him. the only reason why he decided to continue was because he felt like this was the only way he could have you, without the fear of rejection. he hated himself for hurting you like this out of his own selfishness.

"i'll change, we'll be more than friends, i'll drop the act now. i'll continue loving you like how i always did, i won't ignore you anymore." beomgyu begged, rubbing your arms gently. you listened to his words, not knowing if you could trust him.

"we'll start over. i promise i'll be the man you want." beomgyu mumbled, hoping that his proposal would gain a little bit of your trust. you slowly nodded your head, "you break your promise and i'll kill you."

beomgyu chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, leaning his head against your chest, "my life is yours then.."

#bgomtori ✰#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fanfic #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fic #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu ff #txt imagine #txt

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aquamarixx · 5 months ago

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what you deserve

Kazutora must've lucked out because he knows you’re way out of his league and maybe too good for no good person like him

⁺₊ ❆ ANGSTMAS 2024 ENTRY ❆ ₊⁺ pairing hanemiya kazutora x reader word count 1.6k words tags aged up, final timeline, angst, hurt navigation

Life has been good—or at least better—for Kazutora.

He could almost call it normal. Almost.

But despite years of therapy and the steady routine he built after his second stint in prison, there are things that still scare him.

Relationships.

Whether platonic or romantic, he treads carefully. Always cautious. Always on guard, terrified of scaring people off—or worse, hurting them. He had tried dating once, only to back out at the last moment when Chifuyu and Baji set him up with someone. That’s how bad it is.

His past still held him in a chokehold, haunting every corner of his life. The fear of causing harm—be it emotional or physical—lurks in the shadows. And all he could do was brace himself, waiting for the inevitable crash.

That’s why Kazutora never thought he’d find himself dating someone like you.

You were everything he wasn’t. Beautiful, smart, independent. You’d finished college, held a stable corporate job, and had a loving family. You seemed so perfect, so normal—a person whose life was so well put together that it made his mess of a past feel even more glaring.

In short, you’re someone who definitely had their shit together.

He first met you at XJ Land, the pet shop where he worked. Chifuyu ran the place, and it had become Kazutora’s sanctuary—safe and simple. You became a regular there, often bringing in your tuxedo cat, Kuro, for grooming.

You were always cheerful, always making conversation with him, Baji, and Chifuyu. And while you treated them warmly, Kazutora noticed that you gave him just a little more attention.

You weren’t subtle about it, either. You flirted with him in small, gentle ways, watching with amusement as he stumbled over his words. He thought you were out of his league from the start.

And one day, you asked him out. Against all his instincts, he said yes.

Who is he to say no to the kind regular who doted on her cat like it was the center of the universe? The same person who gave him confident smiles and listened intently when he shared cautious snippets of his life. The same person who accepted him without judgment, without hesitation.

Months later, you were still together, and Kazutora found himself happier than he ever thought he could be. It felt… surreal. How perfectly you fit into his arms. How your presence grounded him in a reality he was afraid to believe in. How you filled the empty corners of his life with light.

But even that happiness came with a shadow. His dark past, his trauma and insecurities he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. The same ones he could only keep at bay. Ones he can never extinguish until it's truly gone.

It was supposed to be a good day—your first Christmas together. You had dragged him out of the house to shop for decorations and gifts, holding his hand as you navigated the bustling streets.

To you, it was mundane and fun. To him, it was a glimpse of a future he dared to dream of—a life where moments like these felt normal.

He felt light, almost carefree, until you bumped into your friends from college.

Kazutora stayed quiet as you introduced him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. But the conversation quickly turned sour to his liking, and it was like knives twisting in his chest.

"So, what do you do?" one of them asked Kazutora politely. He stuttered for a moment, a bit shy to say what he does for a living, in front of your friends who are probably well established like yourself.

*"He works at a pet store," you answered for him, noticing how he froze. Your tone was proud, but Kazutora couldn’t stop himself from imagining the judgment in their eyes. They didn’t say anything outright, but the polite nods felt like daggers to him.

The conversation veered off course when one of your friends casually mentioned your ex-boyfriend, now working at a bank. Another added something about a guy who used to have a crush on you, now climbing the corporate ladder in pharmaceuticals.

He knew that you’ve dated other guys before him. But he never really asked about them. Maybe he doesn’t want to compare himself to them. Or hurt himself thinking how much of a downgrade he is.

Kazutora forced a smile, but inside, it felt like the air was thinning. Even if you’re in the middle of the street, it feels like there were invisible walls closing in on him. He tugged at your hand, murmuring something about needing to get going, and you, sensing his discomfort, quickly excused yourselves.

Back at your apartment, you noticed how quiet Kazutora had become. The warmth of your shared apartment was meant to feel like a haven, especially now during the holidays. The glow of the Christmas tree lights danced across Kazutora’s face as he sat stiffly on the couch, shoulders tense, staring at his hands.

You knew that the encounter earlier had brought an awkward tension that Kazutora couldn’t seem to shake. Now, he seemed distant—almost unreachable.

To cheer him up, you pulled out your Christmas gift for him—a carefully chosen leather bracelet engraved with something meaningful between the two of you.

“Here,” you said softly, placing the neatly wrapped box in front of him before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Tora.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the gift like it was a weight too heavy to bear.

"Why do you even bother?" he said, his voice low and bitter.

You froze. "What do you mean?"

"This." He gestured vaguely at the gift, then at himself. "Us. Why are you even wasting your time with me? You could do so much better, but instead, you’re stuck with me. A guy who works at a pet store and can’t even give you half of what you deserve."

"Kazutora—" you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

“No, listen to me!” His voice cracked as he cut you off, raw and trembling. “You’re everything I’m not. You’re smart, beautiful, and successful. And me? I’m just… nothing. Just a guy with a criminal record, stuck working at a pet store, barely holding his life together. You should go back to one of those guys your friends were talking about. At least they can give you what you deserve.”

You flinched, his sudden outburst breaking your heart. “Kazutora, what are you even saying? I love you, and I—”

“Don’t!” he interrupted, his tone sharp, almost desperate. “You shouldn’t waste your love on someone like me. Everything is temporary, and I’m just another mistake waiting to happen.”

Your heart twisted painfully as you reached for his hand, but he pulled away, standing abruptly.

"Stop it!" you shouted, tears brimming in your eyes. "You don’t get to decide what I want, Kazutora. I chose you because I love you. I don’t care about your past or where you work. None of that matters to me."

He laughed bitterly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Don’t say that! Don’t… don’t act like I deserve that. I don’t. You’re just going to leave, just like everyone else. You’re going to realize I’m broken, and you’ll hate me for it.”

You stepped closer, your voice breaking. “I'm not gonna leave you, Kazutora. You’re—.”

But Kazutora shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "You don’t understand. I’ll just drag you down. I’ll ruin everything, just like I always do. You deserve someone who can actually make you happy, someone who isn’t broken."

"You’re not broken," you whispered, but he didn’t believe you. He couldn’t.

“Do you know what it’s like to ruin every good thing in your life? I do.” His voice cracked, his fists clenched at his sides. “And I won’t let that happen to you. You deserve better.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

You tried to stop him, but he was already at the door. "Kazutora, please don’t do this. Please—”

Before you could say another word, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the apartment. The slam of the door echoed through the apartment, leaving you in the cold grip of frustration and confusion.

Kazutora walked through the cold streets, replaying every word in his mind. By the time he reached the shared house he lives in with Chifuyu and Baji, his chest felt hollow. Like the void he’s oh so afraid of has swallowed everything whole and left him nothing but pain and despair.

Chifuyu was still awake, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea. He looked up as Kazutora walked in, his face etched with concern.

"Hey… everything okay?" Chifuyu asked cautiously.

Kazutora just shook his head and muttered, "I’m fine. Don’t worry about it."

Chifuyu didn’t press, though his worried gaze lingered as Kazutora trudged upstairs.

In his room, Kazutora collapsed onto his bed, clutching his phone. His thumb hovered over your contact for what felt like hours before he finally typed out a message:

You deserve better than me. Let’s break up. I’m sorry.

He hit send and curled up in bed, his heart breaking into pieces. To him, this was the only gift he could give you. A chance at a better life without him.

The holidays weren’t supposed to feel like this, but Kazutora convinced himself it was better this way. Even if it meant being alone. Even if it meant breaking both of your hearts.

It was just another Christmas marked by pain, another reminder that happiness for someone like him was always temporary.

amari's notes: this is the very first tokyo rev fic i've ever written, and for kazutora no less! im grateful for the request and i hope you enjoy this one @inu1gf! happy holidays! anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #tokyo revengers angst

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silverynight · 11 months ago

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Welcome home

Chapter 1 (of 5)

It's been a year since Izuku reconnected with his childhood friend, now pro hero, Bakugo Katsuki.

He has changed a lot... in a good way. When he found out Izuku got a job at the same agency he works for, he went straight to the analytics department to see him and talk to him.

Izuku had to ask for a break and meet Katsuki outside; he was nervous then, but he realized quickly he didn't have to. All the pro hero wanted was to apologize for his past behavior.

They started over after that and now they're really good friends and Izuku is very happy because of it.

There's a lot of things in his life that have improved since he got that job, actually.

He gets to meet a lot of pro heroes, yes, most of them are kind enough to go to his department and see him in person rather than only communicate with him via text or earpiece.

Aizawa promoted him after a couple of months and now Izuku handles most to the mission and investigations; he chooses quickly which pro hero (based on their quirk, availability and experience) is the best to deal with the situation at hand.

He really likes his job because even though he doesn't do the hero work directly, he gets to help the pro heroes in a way.

He also hangs out with Katsuki a lot; he met his friends the first week after the apology and went to his apartment for the first time fifteen days after that.

Ashido says that it's weird for "Blasty" (as she calls Katsuki) to spend so much time with him right after meeting him again, although she has this smirk on her face whenever she says it that makes Izuku flustered for some reason.

However, Izuku thinks it's perfectly normal; whenever they're together, it feels right, like they never stopped seeing each other and have been good friends for years, ever since they were kids.

"It's still weird," Kaminari says when Katsuki goes to the cafeteria counter to get Izuku a coffee and a bagel. "It took us a year to get invited to his apartment."

The way his friends (because Izuku considers them his friends now) look at him make him feel flustered, but he doesn't do anything to hide the blush on his cheeks like he used to do in high-school whenever he was embarrassed.

Now he just hopes it goes away quickly.

"Well, that was years ago," Izuku says, trying to dismiss it. Katsuki told him he bought his fancy apartment two years after he started working as a professional hero. "Kacchan has changed."

Izuku got really shocked when he found out he owned that apartment, but he knows the pro heroes get very well paid, especially when they get brand deals. It also helps that Katsuki is the number one hero currently, although pro hero Shoto is right behind him.

"He doesn't trust most people," Kirishima points out, like he's trying to tell him something. Then his expression turns into an amused one as he sees Katsuki approaching them again. "And he's certainly not the type to bring anyone food."

"Kacchan's just being nice!" Izuku says as the three pro heroes look back at him like he's crazy. Yes, Katsuki is not that nice on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean he hasn't improved. "I told him my ankle hurts a bit because I rescued a cat and fell right after I managed to get him down from a tree."

Fortunately, the mention of the cat makes them focus on that instead, and suddenly Izuku finds himself showing them pictures of it.

Katsuki sits right next to him, and Izuku sighs in delight after taking the first bite of his bagel.

"How much?" He asks after a while.

"I don't know," Katsuki makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I paid for your stuff and mine together."

"But surely they gave you a receipt–"

"No. Just drink your damn coffee, nerd!"

"Thank you, Kacchan," Izuku says, trying not to roll his eyes; sometimes Katsuki does stuff like that, he seems determined to pay for every little thing Izuku wants when they go out together.

"Also, I'm going to drive you to your apartment..."

"There's no need–"

"You're hurt," Katsuki argues and the green haired man knows that expression really well; there's nothing that can change his mind now, no matter what Izuku says, the pro hero will take him home no matter what.

Izuku realizes right then that it's the first time Katsuki sees the place where he lives; they always go to Dynamight's apartment or to a coffee shop, a restaurant or somewhere else when they hang out.

"Please, tell me you're joking," Katsuki hisses as he parks his expensive car right outside Izuku's building, the one that looks like it's been sitting there for hundreds of years and is about to collapse under its own weight.

Or maybe that's not why the pro hero is frowning that much; his red eyes are scanning the area like the worst kind of villain is about to pop up from the dark alley next to Izuku's building.

"It's not that bad," he assures his friend. They have tried to rob him only once, maybe twice... but he survived!

Well, maybe he shouldn't say that out loud.

"Shit!" Katsuki hisses. "I thought they paid you well! What the hell?"

"They do!" Izuku assures him. "But, uhh... you see... I'm kinda tired of paying rent so I've been saving some money to buy my own place somewhere else. However, if I want it to happen soon, I need to stay here for a while."

"I'll buy you a new apartment."

Izuku chuckles, but his smile falls when he realizes Katsuki is not joking at all.

"I appreciate the offer, but there's no need, Kacchan," he smiles.

Katsuki is still grabbing the steering wheel like he's very tempted to drive away from there. His knuckles are slightly white, perhaps because the grip of the wheel has tightened considerably.

"Izuku, this is not a safe place." He's deadly serious, and by the tone in his voice, it seems like he's about to snap, but he's trying to control himself.

"I can take care of myself," he hears himself saying, slightly irritated. Katsuki is not the only stubborn person in that car.

"Alright..." Katsuki doesn't deny it, but Izuku can tell that he doesn't like the situation at all. "If you want to save for your new apartment, perhaps you can live with me in the meantime. You'll save even more money because you won't have to pay rent anymore."

Izuku's face turns slightly pink at the thought of living with Katsuki. A memory returns to him in that moment; when they were kids, they had promised each other they would live together and work in the same agency as a hero duo.

But that was before Izuku found out he was quirkless.

A long time ago.

"Kacchan, I really appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't accept–"

"Please."

He's sure the pro hero has seen a lot of awful things during all those years working as Dynamight; Izuku has access to a lot of cases, and even though the information is sometimes haunting, he knows there's nothing compared to seeing it happening or arriving at the crime scene.

However, this time Katsuki is overreacting. Sure, the place is not the safest one, but it's not like there's a murder every single day.

Besides, his neighbors are very good people.

"I'll think about it," he finally says, mostly to reassure him.

However, it doesn't work. Katsuki keeps looking around, growing tense.

"You should stay with me tonight. I'll make katsudon if you do."

The offer is really tempting, but Izuku knows it's because Katsuki is imagining horrible things happening to him in that place. Things that are not real.

"I'll be fine."

"Then I'll stay with you."

The fact that he's almost begging makes Izuku's heart beat in a funny way inside his chest. Surely, they are friends now, but it seems Izuku really had no idea how much Katsuki cared about him.

Until now.

"My apartment is tiny and I don't have an extra futon–"

"I can sleep on the floor."

"Kacchan..." Izuku leans closer, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. "Listen, take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise. I have lived here for over two years now. I know this place, and I know how to take care of myself."

Katsuki nods as he relaxes... a bit.

"Alright, but I won't go until you enter that building... no, I won't leave until you text me you're inside your apartment."

Fine. He can agree to that.

"Okay, Kacchan."

***

Two days. It's been two days since Katsuki found out where Izuku lived and whenever he's not with him, he calls him. A couple of times a day.

It's okay, at least he hasn't "kidnapped" Izuku and taken him to his apartment, even though he clearly wants to.

"Hi, Kacchan. Yes, I'm in the office and nothing has happened to me," he mumbles joyfully as he keeps filling a couple of reports for Endeavor's agency.

"I call because I somehow got used to your nerdy voice, and now I miss it constantly," Katsuki grumbles. There's a weird noise coming from his side that makes Izuku frown for a moment.

"Sure, Kacchan," he rolls his eyes because he knows the pro hero can't see him. Maybe he just imagined it. "I suppose you're on patrol so before you–what was that?"

"Shit!"

There's an explosion on his side. This time Izuku is sure of it.

At first, he gets worried as he immediately goes to the database, and then the status section until he finds Dynamight's profile.

"Are you okay?"

"I got everything under control," Katsuki assures him and even though he's clearly using his quirk, Izuku can tell he's being honest.

Then, he gets irritated. Especially when he reads the status and remembers the important mission Izuku assigned to him started today.

"Did you call me during a mission?"

"Izuku, I'm clearly busy here..."

"Alright, I'll end the call."

"No, wait! Is Hatsume there yet?"

Just as Katsuki says it, the head of the support department rushes into Izuku's cubicle.

"Hello, pretty!"

"Hi, Hatsume!" Izuku perks up, smiling at her; she's always a mess, but it suits her somehow.

"Great," Katsuki sounds relived.

"Wait, how did you know–"

"I'm sorry, Izuku, I have to go. I'll pick you up in a couple of hours, alright? Don't get out of the office!"

Katsuki ends the call before Izuku has the opportunity to say anything at all.

He's so distracted arranging everything for the pro hero from Endeavor's agency who'll be coming to work on a case with them and, at the same time, thinking about what he's going to say to Katsuki when he sees him again that he doesn't realize Hatsume is in his personal space until he hears a click.

Suddenly, there's a very beautiful golden chain around his neck, it's not exactly tight, but not as loose as other necklaces he's seen.

It's honestly beautiful, especially with that black X in the middle covered in orange and green gemstones.

Izuku is sure Hatsume made a mistake; if he had to guess, he'd say it looks like a fancy necklace that's probably part of Dynamight's new merch collection or something.

"Uhh... Hatsume?"

She has a tablet in her hands and is typing something so fast it makes Izuku feel a little envious; his job would be slightly easier if he could type that fast.

"I sent an email," she says, without looking up.

A little bit confused, but intrigued nonetheless, Izuku takes out his phone again and opens his mailbox.

It has the agency logo, so Izuku supposes that's something official and relaxes a bit.

He starts reading and then...

"A tracker?"

She chuckles.

"Don't worry, it doesn't activate unless you're in danger. This is for your safety. The standard ones send an alarm to the agency so one of our pro heroes can go and rescue you or help you in case you need it."

Izuku has read about these in a couple of files, although he doesn't know much about them. The ones he looked at seemed completely different from his.

Besides, they were just for very important people... politicians, idols, all kinds of celebrities and scientists if their lives were considered to be in imminent danger.

Also, for obvious reasons, pro heroes' families.

But Izuku was neither of those. He decides to ask Hatsume, but something else makes him worry.

"This looks really expensive."

"You bet!"

"But–"

"It's already paid for, obviously," she says, typing something before the necklace makes a noise and a green light appears in the middle of the X, although it vanishes quickly.

So it's from the agency? Maybe. Although Izuku knows he's not that important to be given something like that. Sure, he handles a lot of information, but it stays in the computer he uses to work on in the office. Besides, neither he nor his coworkers wear uniforms... they aren't given anything that can be linked to the agency for the same reason.

They're not usually the villains' targets. Izuku has never seen a report that mentions an office worker being in danger.

But he admits he's not an expert in that area, perhaps they give something like this to everyone who works there.

"Why Dynamight's logo?"

Hatsume looks at him before chuckling.

"You're funny, Midoriya."

Getting slightly frustrated, Izuku tries again with another question.

"How can I take it off?"

Even though she's the one with crooked goggles on her head and stains of grease all over her face, she looks at him like he's crazy.

"You're not supposed to take it off, ever. It'd defeat its purpose."

"I mean... to take a shower?"

"Oh! Don't worry, it's waterproof!"

At least he finally got a little bit more information about the necklace.

"Uhh..."

"Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat with you, but I have a lot of work to do and I'm sure you do too!" Hatsume says, already waving him goodbye, and looking down at her tablet at the same time.

Izuku sighs and looks down at the device around his neck. He likes the Dynamight symbol, even though he has no idea why she picked that one specifically.

He knows these have to be a secret; the general public can't know about them, so perhaps making it look like expensive merch was her goal?

Yeah, that's probably it.

And she chose Katsuki because it's not a secret Izuku is good friends with him so him wearing his merch makes sense.

He nods to himself, mostly because he doesn't have time to look for more information on that.

He still has to tell Aizawa that Endeavor's office hasn't sent the name of the pro hero who's coming in a few days.

They have to work with them in that particular case because even though they started the investigation, the villain has moved to the zone assigned to the pro heroes who work at Endeavor's.

It'll probably be fine.

***

Next--->

Patreon

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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sleepythegh0st · 2 months ago

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Who Each Hatsune Miku: COLORFUL STAGE! Character Would Main in Mario Kart

Because it did so well on my Instagram

Ichika is the first of many who discovered that her main from 8 was cut from World. She used to use the female Villager. At first she wasn't sure what to do... that was until she saw Pokey, the literal cactus. She's not worried anymore.

Saki has been a Toadette girl her whole life and doesn't plan on stopping. She matches with Tsukasa =]

Honami was another victim of her main being cut, as she used to use Isabelle. She joined the Cow Crew pretty quickly though.

Shiho used to main Dry Bones. When she saw Nabbit's reveal however, she decided there was no turning back.

Minori uses Daisy, her favourite princess. She's always loved her because in her mind, they look alike. You know what they say, "What little girl doesn't dream of being a princess?"

Haruka used to use Kamek because he looked the closest to a penguin. Needless to say, the inclusion of an actual penguin in World is a dream come true for her.

Airi used to be a Cat Peach truther. She's hoping to find out that she's still there in costume form, but until then, she's settling for normal Peach.

Shizuku also has a favourite princess. You'll likely never see a day she doesn't use Rosalina.

Kohane, being a fan of cute little guys, is loving the new roster for World. She was very quick to abandon Tanuki Mario when she saw Monty Mole.

An is a big fan of Pauline. Need I explain why?

Akito is the resident Dry Bowser fan who is not happy to see he was cut, although you'll never see him admit it. He claims to not care, and is apparently perfectly fine with using normal Bowser in his absence, but secretly, he's hoping to see Dry Bowser return as a costume.

Toya has loved Yoshi since he was little. He was always partial to one of the blue variants, and he is very intrigued by the implication that all colors come with their own costume now.

Tsukasa has always, and will always use Toad, as mentioned before. The day Saki gives up Toadette is the day Tsukasa gives up Toad.

Emu used to use Bowser Jr. She was a big fan of the Koopalings. However, as soon as her eyes met Para-Biddybud, she fell in love. She almost doesn't want to play Mario Kart until she can use it she's so excited.

Nene was devastated at the loss of Link. She thought it would be impossible to choose a new main... because now she had to choose between two fish. Ultimately she chose Cheep Cheep because she thought it was cuter.

Rui used to use Pink Gold Peach largely because Nene complained about her inclusion all the time. He isn't particularly bothered about losing her, because he still has King Boo, his real favourite.

Kanade specifically liked the white Shy Guy. She isn't bothered by the colors being costume specific now, as she really only played for the music anyway.

Mafuyu used to use regular old Mario simply because she didn't care. For some reason she's keen on trying the Snowman...

Ena and Airi used to match, as when Airi would use Cat Peach, Ena would use normal Peach. When they found out Cat Peach was being removed, Ena decided to sacrifice her main and look for a new one because they did not want to use the same character. She thought it would be an impossible task, but so far, Swoop has caught her eye.

Mizuki uses Birdo. All of you know why, I'm sure.

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

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CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district.

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy.

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside.

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice.

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before.

The search process for Japanese property could range anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles.

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh.

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell.

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax.

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch.

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out.

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again.

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside.

It’s a beautiful house.

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again.

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought.

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder.

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in.

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here.

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window.

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you.

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.”

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you.

There’s something about him.

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh.

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.”

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.”

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city.

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him.

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance.

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything.

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it.

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens.

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?”

You nod.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.”

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?”

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.”

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house.

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?”

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does.

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.”

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask.

“Rough childhood, then?”

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight.

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real.

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles.

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.”

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything. He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at.

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?”

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.”

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course,”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it.

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely comfortable in overstaying his welcome.

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink.

“Cheers to our hard work,”

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.”

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label.

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him.

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.”

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again.

“Is that so?”

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,”

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him.

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.”

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer.

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.”

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city.

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition.

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet.

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life.

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water.

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it.

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?)

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe.

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners.

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt.

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.)

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him.

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability.

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for.

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock.

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his.

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression.

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling.

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Hi neighbor,”

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,”

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,”

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere.

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.”

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying.

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?”

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can.

“I do, actually. Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.”

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes.

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble them.”

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,”

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset.

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,”

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship.

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that.

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat.

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach.

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,”

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.”

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises.

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize.

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best.

But in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate.

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you.

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu.

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you.

The first is the way they describe Hawks.

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted.

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity.

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea.

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased.

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be.

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand.

Then there is the other thing.

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here.

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them.

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity.

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions?

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself.

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark.

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you. You have to know or it'll swallow you up.

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it.

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know.

You need to know for sure.

It rains.

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early.

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down.

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready.

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat.

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always.

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go. Both of these you believe with full conviction.

But you go. You go.

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk.

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line.

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive.

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours.

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat.

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer.

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does.

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you.

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head.

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.”

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,”

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,”

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,”

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came.

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests.

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house.

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,”

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,”

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.”

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.”

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall.

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.”

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?”

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,”

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.”

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,”

You frown at him.

“...Thanks for the offer,”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile.

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.”

They’re not what you expect.

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do.

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system.

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction.

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him.

The last person you meet is Touya.

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once.

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites.

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless.

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed.

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions.

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would.

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone.

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides.

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate.

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you.

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,”

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,”

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks.

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?”

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.”

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,”

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,”

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?”

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,”

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,”

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike.

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight.

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately.

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat.

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,”

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom.

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it.

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that.

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm.

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself.

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.”

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you.

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats.

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully.

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,”

You clear your throat.

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?”

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.”

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything.

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated.

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke.

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion.

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act.

You don’t know which things he wants more.

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you.

You nearly scream.

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run.

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running.

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?”

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,”

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you.

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening.

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.”

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows.

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.”

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it.

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?”

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.”

He pulls his hand away from you.

“What do you want from me?”

Hawks looks surprised then laughs.

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding.

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound.

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up.

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no way I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.”

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is. “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.”

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can.

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive.

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy.

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe.

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”

#cannibalism cw #noncon cw #yandere cw #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #sorry if there are . still errors

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coolbeesbro · 10 months ago

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TGOFC Leshy Facts (Chapter 6 Spoilers)

There's so much that goes into each character in my au, and the last chapter I dropped had a bunch of lore for Leshy's character, and I just felt like compiling the minute facts that might be overlooked in light of the story that genuinely bring me joy.

Unlike the other siblings, Leshy was just a regular chaser worm who was evolved into something more human (even though humans aren't a thing in this universe, I can't think of a term that would convey the same thing here) through the power of the Green Crown. The others were like regular people already capable of complex thinking, bipedal etc., who came to find their crown one way or another (I'll go into them more in their own posts), so in comparison Leshy is more unpredictable and overall feral in his actions and mannerisms. He also still has a strong connection with the worms and can communicate with them perfectly fine, giving him an advantage over prior gods of Chaos who couldn't control them at all.

Some examples of him being more animalistic is the fact that he's being prone to biting just because, and still having urges like burrowing underground being more comfortable for him than sleeping in an actual bed, and randomly making strange little noises. He also thinks nothing about eating through and ripping up the floorboards in his house, and has Heket bring him spare lumber to store as a "little snack" when he's too lazy to get up and go to the dining hall and raid the kitchen. Every sibling's homes are reflective of their personalities, and where Heket, Kallamar, Narinder and Shamura have furniture and decor, Leshy's home, though normal looking from the outside, is literally just an empty room with the majority of the floorboards ripped up or gnawed through, looking like a storm ripped through the inside of his home. He has no furniture or decor outside of a few potted plants gifted to him by Tebryn (au yellow cat).

Another thing, and this might be controversial, is that he's actually terrible when it comes to taking care of plants. Almost every plant he owns is either dead, or on the brink of death, but he doesn't really know it since he can't see for himself that they are. He use to be good at it, but that ended up being 100% the Green Crown's power. Having not been capable of thinking past basic animal instincts prior to becoming a god, he can't fathom that he might not actually know what he's doing. Tebryn teases him lightly about it, but also doesn't have the heart to tell him that the plants in his window died months ago. There's one plant that's hanging on by a thread, an overwatered camellia bonsai that's now really just a stick in dirt with 3 leaves, and it only stays alive because Tebryn repots and tends to it when Leshy isn't paying attention. That doesn't stop Leshy from attempting to unintentionally over-trim the tree, much to Tebryn's dismay.

When he was still just a baby up until his toddler years, he would often just run around naked (only covered by leaves) and Heket would struggle to just get him to keep at least his cloak on (there'll be a flashback to a scene like that later on). One second he would be fully clothed, she would look away for just a moment, then look back to see Leshy running away on all fours with his clothes in a trail behind him. Now, if not for the fact that he'd get a lecture from the others on why he needs to stay clothed out in public, he would probably be in the nude 24/7.

As a product of his rapid evolution, his appearance from what chaser worms are in present day is drastically different; since while they evolved over time, he was like a preservation of their past. Like how he burrows into dirt, where they no longer have to due to evolution giving them large horns and a larger/tougher build for protection. Instinctually, he still attaches sticks to his head, which was both a defense mechanism of sorts along with helping with hunting. Being partly burrowed in the ground helped him feel vibrations of things walking near him; and with his head sticking up past the dirt, he looked more shrub-like so predators wouldn't go after him, and also prey would be more inclined to walk near him or use him as shelter, making for easier meals.

I also decided to make him a trans man, because why does Shamura get to be the only trans one (also as a youngest child who's a trans man I decided that my comfort character WILL be trans as well.)? With the help of Kallamar he's able to transition with HRT and other surgeries. Nobody but his siblings know he's trans, and is 100% passing as cis to everyone else. He's also the shortest of all the siblings, followed by Shamura, then Narinder, Heket and Kallamar.

There's definitely more than this, but my god I realized just how long this was getting so I'll end it here unless people want me to make a continuation.

#leshy #cotl leshy #cult of the lamb leshy #leshy x yellow cat #leshycat #cotl #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb fanart #cult of the lamb fanfic #tgofc

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daisymaestinkus · 6 months ago

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Determination

#cats #cats of tumblr #daisy mae stinkus #cute cats #kitty #pets #beafts #perfectly regular normal cat

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averycutesalamander · 5 days ago

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ok uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh pseudoincest under the cut again. and uh. general nsft content. see previous post for more context lol

ok. the club scene. im doing all of these snippets as regular text instead of screenshots bc there's too damn much lol.

so before you get there there's this bit:

You dress a lot sluttier than is strictly necessary. Heels, fishnets, a low-cut crop top, a tight leather jacket, a truly obscene miniskirt – the whole nine yards. The jacket is probably your favorite part; it frames your bust so perfectly that the instant you try it on, you know you'll have to keep it. You spruce it up with some colored bracelets and a bit of extra jewelry, but as a whole, it speaks for itself. …The collar is probably the most egregious part of the whole outfit. You don't get a custom name tag, though, which is comforting in the sense that it makes you feel like a little less of a freak. It could be worse. It's just to fit in. Obviously. Just to fit in.

(and i havent written it yet but trust me when i tell you that this poor man almost has a fucking stroke when he sees you JHABWJHABFJHBFJ)

so you both get there and you're doing some scouting, right. and you notice that occasionally some individual people or couples will go past this guarded door, and they all have these bracelets that have a really particular pattern. so obviously bracelet = some kinda passkey probably. he also recognizes one of the people that goes through as one of the people behind the operation, so that just confirms that the underground area is through there. so you send him off to go yoink a bracelet from somebody when they're alone, and you chill by the bar to keep an eye out. and then a guy walks up and starts chatting you up.

"You're new here, right?" the stranger asks. Your heart jumps into your throat, and your nervous laugh isn't entirely for show. "What gave it away?" "I'm here pretty often." He leans in with a smirk. "And new blood always has a particular look when they walk in here." Then, his gaze falls down to your collar, and his grin widens even further. "No leash, huh?" Your face flushes with heat at the thought, because now you're thinking about Boothill holding your leash, and holy shit, you need to cut that out right the fuck now. You laugh with no small amount of awkwardness, fiddling with your hands as you look away. "Oh, I, um… didn't think to put one on, honestly." He hums, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, hey," he begins, reaching back into his pocket. Then, to your horror, he pulls out a leather leash, black with red designs; before you can even blink, he leans forward and clips it onto your collar with all the ease of breathing. Your mortification multiplies ten times over when he twists the length of it around his wrist, forcing you closer. "Fresh meat gets freebies," he says flirtily, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

and that's when boothill gets back. and he's fucking PISSED.

"Back off," he snarls, low and dangerous, like the rumble of thunder that signals an incoming storm. "C'mon, man, we're just having a little–" Boothill grabs him by the collar, his eyes gleaming red like blood, his bared teeth glinting in the club lights. "I don't share." You swear your heart stops dead in your chest. You did not just feel a pulse in your core. You did not just have a shiver run up your spine. You are being so, so normal right now. You are having a completely normal reaction. The stranger suddenly pales, letting you go without missing a beat. "H– Hey, woah. Sorry, I just thought– With the bracelet–" Oh. Oh, fuck. Your fucking bracelets. You tug quickly at Boothill's sleeve, starting to sweat at the feeling of eyes on you. "C'mon, let him go." You feel like a cornered prey animal when he turns his gaze to you, his eyes smoldering like coals in the dim light. "You think I'm just gonna let him–" God, you want to strangle him. You grab his jacket and yank him close as you lean forward. Then, you hiss in his ear, "They think you're my dom, and they think ya wanna share me." You bite hard on your lip when he chokes, no doubt sprinting through every stage of grief just like you did only moments ago. "They probably use color codes to know if someone is down to share or not, and I'm a fuckin' moron, and I didn't think about my bracelets."

so then the two of you skitter off, feeling EXTREMELY awkward, and then. and then. and thenahbwdawjdhabwjdhab

(for some reason this part does not want to indent so just pretend it's indented)

You can feel the prickle of suspicious eyes on you.

Shit. Someone saw that fuck-up. Anyone legitimate would know the color codes, and the fact that you didn't calls the whole thing into question. If they give your invites a second glance, it wouldn't be difficult to cross check to confirm your identities, and at that point you can kiss that data – and probably your life – goodbye.

You can't go for the door – not while you're being watched. You need to quell suspicions, but how?

Your horrible, wretched, disgusting mind provides a single answer, and no other.

Fuck. Fuck. You're panicking. You're panicking, and you need a second to think without having to worry about looking sketchy. And in a crowded place like this, there's really only one way to get a modicum of privacy.

You spin around, grabbing Boothill by the jacket and yanking him against you, forcing him to pin you to the wall. You're almost alarmed by how easily he follows you; surely he could've resisted, right?

…Wishful thinking. It doesn't matter.

This is for the mission. For the mission. It's for the mission.

He freezes against you, his body somehow going even more rigid than it already is, then immediately starts to pull away.

"Somebody's watchin' us," you quickly whisper. "Act like– Act like you're touchin' me. If they check our invites, we're fucked."

He swallows heavily, but he obeys; your heart leaps into your throat when he crowds closer, his arms on either side of you. His hair brushes against you as he leans down, hovering over the crook of your neck. One of his hands trails down, hovering hesitantly over your hip, and you're struck by the soul-crushing realization that you're on the verge of begging him to just fucking touch you.

For the mission. For the mission.

It's for the fucking mission.

You feel like you're going to lose your mind. You can smell him, rich and masculine and damn near identical to the way it was years and years ago, and wow, you do not appreciate the fact that you can remember that so clearly. His presence is intoxicating, so heady that it leaves you dizzy. It only gets worse when he shifts, moving until his lips are hovering right beneath your jaw, and god, fucking shit, you would do fucking anything to have him bite you right now. You want to feel his hands, his teeth, his–

"This is crazy," he mutters, and you fight to restrain a shiver when the hot wash of his breath hits your skin. "I oughta just light this whole place–"

You'll choose to believe that the spike of panic that runs through you is a reasonable fear for your safety, and not rooted in something much, much worse.

"Do not blow our cover," you hiss. "You might survive gettin' shot full a' holes, but I definitely won't."

He makes a noise that seems mildly offended. "I wouldn't let ya get shot."

"Yeah, well, I'd really rather not test it." You swallow, readjusting your hands clenched in his jacket. He's so fucking warm you can feel it radiating into you despite the distance. "And if we fuck this up now, there's no way we're ever gettin' that data."

He makes a displeased sound, something close to a growl, and holy fucking god in heaven, he's right next to your ear, and the gravel in his voice just ran straight down your spine and into your core and what in the absolute fuck is wrong with you–

"You got eyes on whoever's watchin'?" he rasps, and you startle slightly when you realize that your eyes slid closed without even realizing.

Get it together. Get it together.

"Girl at the far end of the bar, fourth seat from the left." Your palms are sweating. It only gets worse when you see the stranger move. "Fuck. She's getting up."

"Where's she goin'?"

His lips just barely brush against your skin when he speaks, and for a moment, your entire thought process is completely derailed, because you swear on your life you just felt him shiver, but–

"Focus," he growls, and your core clenches so tight that you're honestly worried you're about to pass out.

Still, you obey – and you're glad you did, because your heart leaps into your throat.

Shit. Now your nerves are reasonable.

"Toward us."

"Son of a forkin' bench," he hisses. "Sorry 'bout this, kid."

You swear your heart stops dead in your chest when he reaches down, grasping both of your thighs and hauling you up against the wall like you're lighter than air. Unthinkingly, you hook your legs around his waist, and there is absolutely no reason that you should wrap around him so perfectly, with your thighs slotting snugly against his hips. Then, he presses as close as he can without actually touching you, the chill of his metal palms biting into the tender skin of your thighs in a way that's so good it transcends words.

And then he starts to move.

He doesn't touch you, but he starts to shift his hips like he's grinding into you, and holy shit you're going to die, you're going to keel over right here, your heart is going to explode in your chest and you're going to die–

The way he has to force your thighs open to avoid making contact is fucking unbelievable. Your legs are clenching involuntarily, fighting to draw him closer, to sate the ravenous hunger building in your gut – but he doesn't budge in the slightest. He's not even straining; the power imbalance is so impossibly uneven that you're practically helpless against the sheer force of his strength. He could shift your panties to the side right here and slide into you, and you wouldn't be able to stop him – wouldn't want to stop him.

You grit your teeth, frantically trying to recenter yourself, scrambling to create some facade of normalcy.

He's your uncle. He's probably twice your fucking age, and you knew him as a kid, and you thought he was hot as a teenager, and no you didn't you definitely didn't. You're normal. You're normal, and you aren't a fucking freak, and there's nothing broken in your brain and you're so incredibly normal. You aren't wet right now. You are not wet right now. Absolutely not. There is no way. Only a fucking freak would be wet right now, and you aren't a freak, so you aren't wet.

(You don't know why you're bothering to lie to yourself. You already knew the truth.)

He's your fucking uncle, and that reminder should immediately douse the fire raging in your gut, but the fact remains that it doesn't. You're burning hotter than ever, and everything you try only feeds the flames.

Even without him touching you directly, you can feel your cunt throbbing with need, aching so badly you could cry. The strangled whine that escapes your throat isn't even for show. You need him. You need him, and isn't that fucking despicable? You want him like no one you've ever wanted before. Even with the distance, you can feel the power behind every lax stroke of his hips, and all you can think about is how he'd feel sinking into you, how he'd fill you, how he'd stretch you to your limit. You want him so bad you could die, and isn't that awful? Because you'll never, ever have him.

You're in hell. You're in hell. You have the devil looming over your shoulder and between your legs and pressing in and there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and–

Suddenly, he readjusts so he's holding you up with one arm – fuck, he isn't even straining – and then snatches up your leash with his newly freed hand. You think your soul almost leaves your body when he tugs on it, just hard enough to make you jolt.

"Quit squirmin'," he growls, and you swear on your life he presses closer, because the very front of his jeans brushes against the thin fabric of your panties, a ghost of pressure against your clit. And then it happens again, just a little harder,and your vision goes white – and you're honestly, truly terrified that you just fucking came, but you didn't, and you aren't sure if that's better or worse. You worry that your teeth are going to fracture with how hard you're grinding them.

"I– I'm sorry," you hiccup, and you mean it, with your entire heart and soul. You're clenching your fists so hard in his jacket that your bones ache.

His voice makes you jump, even though he sounds substantially gentler now. "Still got eyes on her?"

You make a confused noise before you can fully process the question, and then embarrassment hits you full-force, clarity hitting you like a brick. Right. Obviously, that's… Right.

What a fucking lunatic. God, you need to get it together.

You scan the crowd as subtly as you can from over his shoulder, but you can't see her anymore, nor do you see anyone looking at you now. You're just another couple in a sea of people, unremarkable in your perversion, real or not.

"…No."

You don't fully manage to bite back a disappointed whimper when he puts you down, and your skin feels cold the moment his hands leave you.

Holy fuck, you are soaked. You can't even be demure about it. You're literally dripping down your thighs, and it's so fucking mortifying that you actually contemplate collapsing into yourself like a black hole. Get it together. Get it together.

"Let's get down there while we still can," he murmurs, and you almost jump out of your skin when his hand presses gently against your back, guiding you toward the guarded door.

THIS SCENE. THIS FUCKING SCENE. AFHWABFJHAWBFJAHBFHJAWFVBJAHGFVBAHWFVGAHGFVAH BLOWING MYSELF UP !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#cw pseudoincest #fem reader #sal.dcu #sal.snippets #theres some more sauce after that but nothing quite that juicy. jeeeeeeeeeesus christ #fanning my face #every time i open this draft it sticks to me the whole fucking day.#THE GUILTTTT.... THE GUIIIIIILTTTTT IT'S SO JUICY.............#if you could hear his internal monologue it'd be one solid block of “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK WHAT AM I DOING IM BEING SO CREEPY FUUUUUUUU-#they're both in agony. god i love writing for this fic. they're both so fucking stupid (/affectionate)

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clangenrising · 11 months ago

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Month 17 - Greenleaf

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Goldenstar settled down in the dark, cozy space underneath the twoleg nest. It smelled strongly of Songdust down here, which was comforting, but she could still catch whiffs of Schmidt’s scent - a strange mix of oat and honey laying over his natural musk. The entire place was strange, to be honest. The wood above their heads all laid perfectly flat and straight in rows, sunlight peeking through gaps at regular intervals. Somewhere deeper in, water gurgled and an ever present humm filled the air now that there were no loud sounds to cover it up. It made her fur stand on end.

She glanced at Scorchplume and pursed her lips in a frown. Her beloved’s gaze was distant and unfocused as she huddled nearby, tail tucked around her paws as if to avoid accidentally touching anything. Even her breath was a little shakier than normal. Goldenstar had no idea what was going on with Scorch but it upset her how suddenly and without warning the behavior had appeared. She knew Scorch wouldn’t want her to pry in front of a city cat though, so she held her tongue.

“Thanks for speakin’ with me,” Schmidt said once they were all settled. “I s’pose to start, I should ask: how much d’you know about the situation here in the city?”

“Um,” Goldenstar glanced at Scorchplume who briefly caught her gaze before looking away. “I mostly know about how things were under Razor. I’m sure things have changed since he died though.”

“‘Changed’ would be puttin’ it kindly,” he said, grim faced. “Since he and Tiger both passed in the battle, there’s been a bit of an argument about who gets to take over.” He winced politely as he said it.

“I see,” Goldenstar hummed. So they had killed the deputy and the leader at once and there was a dispute about succession. When that happened in the Clans, they just went to StarClan and asked the previous leader, but city cats didn’t go anywhere when they died so it wasn’t like that was an option.

“Who’s currently in charge?” asked Scorchplume and her voice sounded strained. Goldenstar’s frown deepened.

“Well, Sardine is claimin’ he’s next in line,” said Schimdt.

“Sardine?” Scorch scoffed, eyes focusing for a moment. “He barely made it into the inner circle.”

“Exactly,” Schmidt nodded. “But Oreo abdicated to him and there’s no one else with a stronger claim. A few cats have made a bid for the spot but opinion is split. There’s Bella Swan but, as a she-cat, she’s unpopular with a lot of the toms.” Goldenstar twitched her ear at that. City cats were so confusing and stupid. “And there’s Rudy. He’s very popular with the Chaff. Even though he doesn’t have a great case, he has a lot of force to back it up.”

“Can’t you ask your Folk for an answer?” Goldenstar asked. “I thought they appointed Razor as your leader in the first place.”

Scorch scoffed again. “The Folk don’t actually talk to cats like that. Razor said that to justify his rule, not because it was true.” Schmidt shuffled uncomfortably but nodded.

“Regardless of your thoughts on the Folk,” he said, “only Portia can really understand their will.” It was Scorch’s turn to shuffle, her lips pursed tight as she held her tongue. Goldenstar frowned.

“You wanted to discuss this with me for a reason, I’m assuming,” she said. “Is there something you’d like me to do about the situation?”

“Myself and some other, like minded cats are thinkin’ about rubbin’ our head on the post, so to speak, and I was hopin’ you’d have some advice for us.”

Goldenstar’s fur bushed ever so slightly. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re a leader,” Schmidt said, brows furrowing. “You have experience governin’ a large group of cats very effectively. You were able to win both battles that were fought. Surely you must have some knowledge on the topic.”

Goldenstar swallowed thickly. “I mean… I have some experience,” she said, “but I’ve only been leader for about a year! And I’m not the leader of all of the Clans, there are three other leaders who I collaborated with to accomplish those things.” She felt like there were ants in her pelt. It took all of her effort not to squirm. “And besides, I had StarClan to guide me, I don’t-”

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume said sharply and she fell silent at once. Scorch was right. This wasn’t the way she ought to present herself to a city cat, as some bumbling girl who had no clue what she was doing. She took a deep breath and tried to think about Scorchplume’s advice on speechcraft before she continued.

“What I mean to say,” she said, sitting a little taller, “is that my leadership is a collaborative effort. I learn as I lead just like the others learn from me. I’m not sure if I can help you with your ‘politics’. They seem very… cutthroat.”

“They are,” Schmidt sighed. “I understand. Thanks for listenin’ anyway.”

“What exactly did you want help with?” Goldenstar asked as sympathy washed over her. “I may not be very useful, but I suppose I can try.”

“Well, we’d like to get someone in power who cares more about the common cat, about doin’ what’s right,” said Schmidt. “We know now is the best time to make a move, what with the uncertainty about who’s most deserving and what not, but we aren’t sure which cat to rally behind or how to get cats to agree he or she should be in charge.”

“That sounds like your problem,” Scorchplume said bluntly. “I don’t know how you expected a Clan cat to be able to tell you that but we don’t have the time to stay and figure out what’s going on well enough to solve all your problems for you. We should be leaving, before someone comes to find us.”

Guilt pooled in the pit of her stomach at Scorch’s harsh words but she could see the reasoning. “I really am sorry,” she said, “but she’s right. We need to go home.”

“I understand,” Schmidt said again. “Apologies for keepin’ you so long.”

“That’s alright,” Goldenstar said. “I’m not sure if you’d like my blessings but I hope StarClan lights your path regardless.”

“Songdust has told me about them,” he said. “I’m most grateful.”

Goldenstar smiled. “And I’m grateful too. Thanks for watching out for her.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled back, a tinge of sadness in his gaze.

He started back towards the yard but Goldentstar paused for a moment to check on Scorchplume. Her eyes were closed tight, her breathing slow and labored, like she was holding back nausea. Her tail was still curled tightly around her paws but Goldenstar noticed the way her paws were kneading the dirt absently.

Casting a glance to make sure Schmidt wasn’t watching them, she leaned in and whispered to Scorchplume, “Hey, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Scorchplume lied, clearly choking out the words. “I just want to get out of here and go home.”

“Alright,” Goldenstar said softly. “Just… let me know if you need anything, okay?” Scorch twitched an ear in response. Her own stomach churning with unease, Goldenstar slipped back out onto the grass.

“Ready to go?” called Branchbark when he saw them.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Let’s get back to camp so Songdust can get some rest.” And so Scorchplume will feel better. She ran her eyes over her Clanmates, making sure they were all present and doing well. Songdust seemed forlorn, Branchbark eager to leave. Sparrowsway seemed irritated, his tail twitching at the tip, and Floodstrike was poorly hiding disappointment, although not as poorly as Luna who was pouting dramatically. Lastly, she looked at Scorchplume again, who seemed to be doing better, although Goldenstar noticed the distant look in her eyes, the kind of look that said “let me be anywhere but here.” It hurt to see, especially because she had no idea what had caused it.

“Do you really have to go?” asked Luna. “Maybe you could stay the night! There’s space in my garden.”

“No, we should go,” Songdust sighed. “Goodbye, Shepherd.” The big dog howled softly, licking Songdust’s face with his massive tongue. She cringed but stood firm instead of pulling back or being pushed over.

“I’ll walk you back,” said Jo. “Probably best if the others stay here, though.”

“Alright,” Schmidt said, tucking his paws neatly under himself as he sat down on the deck. “Safe travels, y’all.”

“Yeah, safe travels,” pouted Luna.

“It was nice to meet you both,” Goldenstar said. “You’re both welcome to visit any time.” Schmidt nodded but the smile on his face told her immediately that he didn’t plan on taking her up on her offer.

“Let’s go,” Songdust said, “I’m looking forward to-”

“Hold on,” a voice called across the lawn. Scorchplume immediately paled and Floodstrike hissed threateningly. Goldenstar whipped around to see Ghost appearing on the fence behind her. He looked absolutely terrible, his pelt a patchwork of scar flesh and his dark circled eyes sitting underneath two shredded ear stubs. Another cat leapt up beside him, a young she-cat who Goldenstar couldn’t help but think looked like Barleybee wearing Smokyrose’s fur.

Jo stepped up in front of the warriors, tail arched aggressively and hissed, “Fuck off, Ghost, you no good, piece of shit, dirt bag motherfucker!” Shepherd, feeding off her energy, snarled and barked at the newcomers. Goldenstar’s fur stood on end at the sound of it and she reminded herself, gratefully, that the terrifying beast was on her side.

Ghost looked less than pleased but not exactly afraid of the threats. “Easy, Jo, I’m just here to talk.”

Shepherd barked again, “Leave!”

“Yeah right,” Jo laughed. “You running an errand for that fish-faced fuck? Tell him he can choke on grapes, dickhead!” Goldenstar, overwhelmed by the number of strange profanities, barely registered that the old she-cat must have meant Sardine. So Ghost was working for Sardine now. That made sense although Goldenstar couldn’t deny she was disappointed.

“He’s serious,” the cat beside him said earnestly. “Please, hear him out!” Ghost cast her a look of appreciation before meeting Goldenstar’s eyes.

“I wanted to talk with you, honest,” he said. “About my daughters.” Goldenstar felt another rush of sympathy.

Floodstrike hissed, “They’re not your daughters, fox heart, they’re Smokyrose’s!” Ghost’s muzzle curled back in a soundless snarl.

Quickly, Goldenstar stepped forward and said, “Everyone calm down. I want to hear him out.”

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume sounded like squeezing her voice out took a great deal of effort. “We need to go.”

“It’ll just be a second,” said Goldenstar. Bounding forward, she jumped up onto the fence beside Ghost. On his other side, the young grey cat smiled brightly at her and she couldn’t help but return the smile a bit. “What did you need to discuss?”

Ghost sighed and, with one last glance at Jo’s scowl, turned to focus on Goldenstar, saying, “I wanted to make sure that the girls are alright.”

“They are,” she replied softly. “I’m surprised that you wanted to know. If you wanted to see them you could have stopped by.” For the cat who had abandoned Smokyrose to her pregnancy, the cat Scorch had said did the same to all of his mates, this turn of events felt like it had come out of nowhere.

“That’s kind of you,” he huffed a laugh, “but I would have just made things more dangerous for them. Scorch was right when she sent me away.” Goldenstar frowned at that. When had Scorch done that? She glanced down at Scorch and found her sitting with her eyes shut and her ears pressed flat against her head again.

Ghost continued, “It was me that got Miss Smoke killed. I thought for a while that was my punishment for caring at all, that things would be better off if I forgot about them, but I can’t help but worry. I don’t even know their names and I feel terrible about it.” He sighed and shut his eyes. The cat beside him leaned up against him and purred reassuringly.

“Their names are Fogpaw and Slatepaw,” said Goldenstar, smiling gently. “Fogpaw looks exactly like you and Slatepaw looks exactly like her mother.”

“Oh,” Ghost said, throat working tightly. “And they’re alright? They’re not just safe, they’re… cared for?”

“Completely,” she assured him, leaning in to bump her forehead briefly against his. He startled at the touch, sorrowful eyes searching her face. “They’re growing into brave, kind young warriors.”

“That’s… good,” he said, looking away, towards the city behind them.

“Is there anything we can do to help them?” asked the she-cat. “It’s not safe to visit but if there’s something else, Ghost would like to help.” She looked at Ghost as if prompting him to say something they had rehearsed and he swallowed thickly.

“Right, yes,” he said, glancing between the two cats on the fence with him. “If I can help, just let me know.” The words sounded clumsy on his lips but he pushed through them regardless. Goldenstar was struck with the distinct impression that he was trying very hard and it only made her heart swell for him.

“Well,” she said, thinking, “the most important thing I can think of is getting the city cats to stop stealing our prey. It’s slowed down a bit but we’re still shortpawed. I know you’re important around here, is that something you could do?”

Ghost looked like she had asked him to eat deathberries, his scarred face heavy with despair. “I mean…” he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “It’s not so simple. The Exalted hunt for sport but the Chaff, my cats, they hunt to avoid starvation.”

“It would be very hard to convince them to stop,” the she-cat said solemnly.

“Maybe they don’t need to stop entirely,” Goldenstar said, an idea starting to spin in her head. “Even if they shifted where they were hunting and someone taught them how to preserve next year’s hunt then it wouldn’t be an issue really.”

“Next year’s hunt?” Ghost asked.

“There are certain rules we follow when we hunt to make sure that the prey can survive and breed until next year. It’s very important, not just for our continued survival but as a way to respect the blessings StarClan gives us. I could teach you if you wanted.”

“I don’t know,” Ghost sighed.

The she-cat leaned against him and said, in the way one might urge an uneasy apprentice, “I think it would be worth it to try, don’t you?” Goldenstar struggled to piece together what exactly was the nature of their relationship.

Ghost swallowed, searched his companion's face, and then said, wearily, “I suppose so.”

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume spoke up, urgency creeping into her tone.

“Right,” Goldenstar looked down briefly, a pang of guilt in her belly. She’d been caught chattering like a queen at the border, holding up the whole patrol for hours with their gossiping. “We have to go. I know you can’t visit camp but maybe we could meet near the thunderpath some time to talk further.”

“Alright,” Ghost said. “You tell time by the moon, right? How about I meet you when it's halfway full?”

“That sounds perfect,” Goldenstar smiled. She dropped back down onto the grass and started north towards home. The cat sitting beside Ghost whispered something encouraging and he shut his eyes tiredly.

An idea struck Goldenstar suddenly and she paused to look at Schmidt. “Hey, Schmidt, if you’re looking for someone with leadership experience who might be interested in changing the way things are run here, I think Ghost would be an excellent cat to talk to.”

“What?” Ghost opened his eyes in surprise.

“Him?” Jo gawked. “The ‘I Don’t Make The Rules, I Just Enforce ‘Em’ fuck?” She lashed her tail, glaring at him and he scowled in her direction.

“Yes,” Goldenstar said. “I think you two could work very well together.”

“Well, I guess I could ask him a few things,” Schmidt said carefully.

“Change sounds good, doesn’t it?” the she-cat urged Ghost gently. “Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?”

“Mm,” Ghost looked askance. Jo huffed, vindicated.

“Just give it a try,” Goldenstar said. “Now, let’s go. I’ve stalled us long enough.”

“Right,” Jo said. “This way.” As she stepped away, she said, “You keep eyes on that fucker, Shepherd.” The dog boofed at Ghost in affirmation. The warriors hurried up over the fences, back towards their territory. Scorch sighed in relief once the yard was behind them, visibly relaxing her posture.

“Are you alright?” Goldenstar said softly as they followed behind Jo.

“Yes,” Scorch said, and this time Goldenstar believed her a bit. “It was nothing, really. I’m fine now.”

“Do you want to talk about it later?” frowned Goldenstar.

“It’s nothing, Goldie,” Scorch laughed from behind her mask. “Really, I’d prefer if we just forgot about it, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Goldenstar agreed. Whatever makes her happy, she decided. Brushing her tail against Scorch’s leg for a second, she focused on the path ahead, eager to get away from the noise and heat and “politics” of the city.

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