#regardless of the exact number i think it's really cool that were starting to have older non-supernatural characters

[torgawl]

how old do we think wriothesley is? he was described as a "young psychopath" in the hospital before his trial by the lady that talked to him. we also know that from the day he entered the fortress for registration, the day he received his vision, to the day he got his duke title (that's what i understood at least) his age almost doubled. depending on how young he was when he commited the murder and how long he has been duke for he could be anywhere in his 30s and upward. i don't know how law in fontaine works or the minimum age someone can be sent to prison with but for him to be described specifically as young i would say at most he would be around 18/19. for them to focus so much on neuvillette staying quiet during his trial i wouldn't be surprised (and this is what i'm most inclined to believing) if he was merely a teenager at the time. now, paimon also commented she was expecting someone older when she heard of the duke, so we know he looks young. that probably excludes any age above early 40s?! obviously we can't be sure of any number but he's likely a man in his 30s and i am very much here for that!!!

[fckwritersblock]

More Than Therapy

Bucky x black!reader

Warning: sooooo there is smut ahead. Okay like, not complete filth but it’s there! Who even knows what this is, but enjoy it!

Pic below from post by @afriendlyblackhottie

(Unedited.)

“Look, I’m not saying that she’s not a great therapist, I’m just think that she’s not your style.”

Bucky didn’t hide his eye roll.

For the past 2 weeks, Sam had been trying to convince him he needed a second option. Ever since he had his own encounter with Bucky’s therapist, which consisted of being forcefully included in one of their sessions, he could see it wasn’t really helping Bucky at all. Not that Sam was an expert or anything, he just knew his.....friend.

“Alright Sam, fine.” Bucky sighed tossing the wrench to the side. “So what. I kick my therapist to curb, then what? You got some kind of recommendation or something?”

Sam just smirked before turning and making his way off the boat.

“Actually I do.”

Now here Bucky was, waiting on another person to come and try to break down all his walls and get in his head and help him with through his ‘issues’.

“Waste of time.” He mumbled to his self.

However, when she walked in the door, that thought quickly left.

“I’m Y/n.”

“James”

“It’s nice to meet you James.”

For the first time in a very long time Bucky felt comfortable almost immediately. The conversation didn’t feel forced, he didn’t feel pressured, it was just easy. Y/n didn’t push and pry. She simply let him answer the way he want and what he wanted. She let him sort of control the conversation. It was refreshing.

From then on, he saw her twice a week. Their first two weeks together was just them getting to know one another. Establishing trust on Buckys end. He appreciated that for once the woman so much pressure for him to be OK so soon. Finally, after about a month or so, they were doing a little exercises here and there to work through his trauma. The first assignment, it was actually pretty similar to the last psychiatrist he had seen. To get out and make at least one friend. Find an activity or something that he enjoys.

“So have you been getting out like we discussed?”

“Yeah I’ve gone out.” He nodded carelessly with a grin as he sat across the table from her.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “To places besides the bar.”

“Yes.”

“Liar.” She said and it was her turn to grin as she held her hand out.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, handing over his phone. Bucky watched her click a few buttons knowing she was checking his contacts. This was like Deja vu.

“You have the same amount of numbers in your phone as last week Barnes.”

“Not true Doc, I have you.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I hardly count Barnes.” A small smile graced her face nonetheless.

She was quiet for a moment and he took that opportunity to study her. In deep thought. Y/n had a tell. She’d bite the corner of her bottom lip on the right side every time she was trying to figure something out. Usually before she came up with his homework before the next session.

“I have a thought but you’re not gonna like it.” She began after while.

“Lay it on Doc.”

“I don’t feel like you are actively trying to be a part of society. What you’ve been doing, trying to right your wrongs of the other guy...” she drifted for a moment. “It’s futile. You don’t need to do that. That-“

Y/n paused taking a deep breath.

“That’s not you.” She spoke softly.

“But that is me! I am winter soldier!” He yelled on his feet quickly.

Anger. He was familiar with the feeling. Angry was something he just couldn’t seem to stop feeling. Even if he didn’t show it, it was like he was angry all the time. However feeling it with her was unfamiliar. And he could feel the inner turmoil of him taking his frustrations out on her as he tried to push that anger back down.

“Were.” Y/n stated with finality, voice strong. “You were the winter Solider. And that wasn’t you. That’s just a couple of dark chapters in the book of your life. That’s it.

“You don’t know m-“

“But that is not you.” She repeated a little louder commanding forcing him to look her dead in the eyes. “That’s not who you are, James. And while I may not have known you pre-hydra, or during, but I’m knowing you now. And that’s just not you.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair.

“I know that here, Bucky.” She grinned a little placing her hand over her heart and tapped twice. “And deep down, so do you.”

“. You, James Buchanan Barnes, you are not the bad guy.

The anger he had been feeling had subsided and I was replaced with something that was completely unfamiliar to him. Something he longed for couldn’t quite the grass. Something that he didn’t even realize was in within his reach until noon.. The feeling, regardless of how unfamiliar it was with something Bucky didn’t think he wanted to go away.

The silence between them was comfortable. Y/n could tell that he was processing her words. It was a good thing, she could because he was no longer good tense and his stance was relaxed instead of defensive.

“You know what? We’re finished for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She declared.

“What?” Bucky snapped out of his tranced and frowned. “Doc, come on. I shouldn’t be seeing you til Thursday.”

“Yeah tomorrow,” she nodded with a smile. “I want to try something different.”

The next day but he showed up at their usual time, 11 AM. When he stopped at a reception to ask for Dr. Y/n they informed him she was out for the day. He frowned and turned to leave only to find her approaching him from the elevator.

“Hey! You ready to go?” Y/n offered a gentle smile.

“I thought we were-“ he asked went fo point back toward her office but she stopped him.

“We are. We’re just doing things differently today.” She informed him, before nodding her head toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”

Their day together was eventful to say the least. Their first stop was her favorite coffee spot. It was actually a little hole in the wall called Hippies Brew in the downtown area. A cool modern place full of friendly and eccentric individuals. It was comfortable. Homey. It wasnt one she’d typically recommend clients, but she would recommend it to friends. After that they were too the aquarium followed by the park where they sat on a park bench for lunch. Lunch being tacos from the El Gordo’s taco truck parked near by. Well a lot of the time at the park or spit in silence, it was still comfortable as a people watched together. While Bucky hated to admit it, this is the first time he really just felt at peace. There was no one looking over him with some unrealistic expectation of him to be Steve, and become so hero he wasn’t. There was no pressure to get his shit together right then and there. He was just simply allowed to be Bucky. Unapologetically.

“Walk with me?” He asked.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, surprised he initiated doing something together, but agreed with a smile.

Soon enough they easily fell into conversation of as they began to walk the lake.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set. Their time together lasted longer than Y/n planned but either was it was nice. She enjoyed today, as did he. Bucky’s offered to walk her back to her car, savoring their last few moments together.

“Are you sure I can’t give you a ride home?” Y/n asked as they got closer to her car in the now empty lot.

“Yeah, Doc, lm sure.” He smiled back at her, her smile and laugh being infectious. “I like walking. It gives me time to think. it’s peaceful. Kind of like today.”

Y/n’s smile widened at his confession. So her idea did work. He was making progress.

“ That’s what you deserve James peace. I can’t promise every day is gonna be like this.” She turned away approaching the driver side door. “I mean, it is life there are going to be some bad days. But you do deserve some peace. Some happiness.

She turned to see that he was a lot closer than she thought saying that he was preparing to open the door for her. She swallowed, suddenly feel in the air around them shift. As she ran her tongue over her lips, Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the action.

“You just have to let yourself have it.” She said softly.

It was in that exact moment where James decided he was going to do just that; let himself have happiness. And without thinking, he leaned forward and connected his lips with her.

He pulled away almost as soon as it happened eyes wide.

“James…” y/n finger tips traced her lips as she stared at him.

“I am, i, I don’t know-“ Bucky stuttered.

He went to take a step back but was stopped. This time it was her who initiated the kiss.

What started off as gentle, turned into her fisting a handful of his shirt put him closer with his hands wrapped around her waist. The heat that washed over them both, was like a moth to a flame. The passion poured into the kiss from both ends quickly consuming them both. The two fighting for a dominance, it wasn’t until they both harshly pushed against her car setting the alarm off that they snapped out of it.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry wh-“ Y/n’s eyes were wide as she looked around anxiously.

Bucky could sense her panicking.

“y/n-“

“ I am so sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me-“

“Breathe for me doll-“ he reached for her but she pulled her hand away shaking her head vigorously.

“I can’t, we can’t, I have never.” She took a deep breath, her next words still coming out shaky. “I’m so sorry. To take a vantage of you like that-“

“I was the one who-“ he attempted once more to no avail.

“I have to go. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” She rushed out, flinging her door open and getting in the car.

All Bucky could do was watch as she wasted no time peeling out of the parking lot.

That was the last he had seen or heard of her. It had been almost two weeks and she had canceled both his weekly sessions and hadn’t answered any of his calls or returned any of the messages he left both at the office and on her cell phone.

And boy, was he stressed about it.

He had never felt that kind of passion before. To be honest it was something he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. He had been consumed by anger for so long, he wanted to cling onto whatever else, anything else. Bucky would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the chemistry between them. He came to the conclusion he’d been falling for her for a while, and was clearly in denial until that day they spent the day together. It’s not like he was trying to fall for his therapist. But now that he had...Ge had to at least try. Make sure what he was feeling wasn’t one sided.That spark. It was a feeling, a high he had never felt. One he knew he’d forever be chasing and he wanted it again and again and again. So when the third week approached he decided to take matters into his own hands.

A knock her door tore her away from Grey’s Anatomy.

“Coming!”

Pulling her dress down, she went and answered the door.

“Bucky.” She said his name breathlessly.

“Y/n.” He breathed out, happy to be in her presence even though it hurt slightly to hear her suddenly calling him Bucky.

He quite liked when she called him James. He liked the way she said his name.

“What are you-, how.” She tried to control her breathing. “You can’t be here.”

“I need you,” he signed. “To hear me out.”

“Bucky-“

“James.” He corrected her. “Look, I know this totally inappropriate but I-“

James paused taking in her appearance, noticing the purple bruising around her lower right eye above her cheekbone.

“Who?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

“Huh?”

He huffed pushing past her and moving in and around the apartment as if someone would come out and confess. He turned toward her a wild look in his eye.

“Give me. A name, Y/n.”

“James....” she signed.

While he knew she was talking seeing as her lips were moving, It was like he could hear her but he wasn’t hearing her. Bucky couldn’t focus on anything other than a bruise on the side of Y/n’s beautiful face. It had been along time since Bucky had thought of actually hurting somebody, save for John Walker last week which was another story entirely, whoever did this to her face though, he wanted to hurt them bad and he was going to enjoy it. His eyes traveled down toward her lips and he still couldn’t hear her. All he could hear was his fist repeated smashing into said individuals face. Over, and over, over-

“James!”

The sound of her voice finally resonated and he finally focused on her words.

“Come back to me James.” Her voice was gently. Inviting.

Everything he noticed both her hands on the side of his face, her thumb rubbing soothingly.

“It’s fine.” She said slowly removing her hands away as she explained. “There’s no need to hunt anyone down. Just a regular 50150 patient and things got out of hand. It happens.”

“No one should touch you.” He stated with seriousness.

Y/n stared at him for a moment, the right side of her lip pulled between her teeth, eyes pooling with something he hadn’t seen in her before. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I kind of like it when you touch me.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper but he heard her loud and clear.

Just like before, it started off with light kisses, which soon turned into a bit of teasing, a little lip nipping, before things got extremely heated. Both his shirt had been discarded while the straps of her dress were pulled down revealing her black Savage Fenty bra. They had somehow moved from the living room to the kitchen island. Bucky stood between her legs one hand tangled in her braids while her hands held the sides of her face, gently caressing the stubble. Her legs were wrapped around his middles as she began grinding her hips into him. He pulled her closer, the both of them on a high from the friction. Bucky’s metal hand traveled up her bare back giving her goosebumps. They broke apart for air and as soon as Y/n had enough oxygen in her lungs, she went back to licking, kissing and sucking on his neck.

"Shit, Y/n.” Bucky unconsciously tilted his head back giving her better access, his hands palming her ass as his hips bucked into her.

"James." Y/n pulled back panting, lips swollen. " I want you. Now."

Bucky made quick work of removing her panties that coated in her juices , and in return y/n quickly unbuckled his pants using her feet to aid her in pushing them down.

“Shit.” He groaned immediately as she whimpered slightly at the feel of him sliding into her.

Her arms were wound around his neck while his hand gripped the top of her ass to keep her in place as he begin to slowly thrust in and out of her.

Bucky was on a high. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this level of intimacy. Euphoria. He was sure this feeling should be illegal.

The way she were wrapped around him, he knew if he didn’t take it semi slow he wasn’t going to last.

“James,” she moaned, clawing at his back, walls clenching.

He wasn’t sure what sounded sweeter; her moaning or his name leaving her lips.

“Doll?” He responded, kissing the at the base of her neck.

I’m clos-“ Y/n sucked in a breath of air. “Right there.”

“There?” He asked spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could go deeper.

“Yes! Right there!”

It was a bit sloppy from there as Bucky shifted for a better angle. Her ass halfway off the table as he picked up the pace bit her her closer to the edge. He was bouncing her up and down on his shaft effortlessly. Her arms wrapped right around his neck, kiss sloppy as she bit her lip to keep her moans at bay.

“No,” he breathed out, reaching up with one hand forcing her to kissing him, her moans filling his mouth instead. “I want to hear you.”

“James, I’m-“

“I know.”

The sight of Y/n coming undone before him was a glorious one . He couldn’t wait to make her cum again.

Once she came down from her orgasm, she placed her lips back on his, tightening her legs around him once more. He shifted their position a bit and begin again when suddenly the front door opened and in walked Sam.

“Oh shit!” Bucky pulled out of her and struggled to pull up his pants and turned to shield her half naked frame.

“Sam!” Y/n squealed pulling her dress up to her chest as best she could.

“What in the entire fuck!” Sam screamed while covering his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Y/n yelled.

“You told me toy were off!”

“I’m am off!”

“Well I thought I’d bring you dinner! I didn’t know id find this!” Sam said exasperatedly.

Y/n and Bucky were decent informing Sam he no longer had to cover his eyes. Immediately he pointed an accusatory finger at Bucky.

“You! What the fuck did I tell you about my sister?”

Bucky stared at him confused.

“You said not to flirt with your sister.” He repeated Sam’s words. “Sarah’s not..”

He then turned toward Y/n, things finally clicking.

“You’re Sam’s sister.” Bucky concluded.

“Baby sister.” Sam. added.

“I’m grown as hell Samuel!” Y/n fussed.

“Really bruh, my baby sister?!”

“Well how i suppose to know you only refer to her as baby!”

“Once again! I’m grown as fuck-“ she stopped hearing the front door creek open again.

“Who’s that?!” The woman’s eyes were wide with horror as she whispered.

“The boys!” Sam exclaimed in a whisper.

“Why didn’t you say they were here-“ she began frantically washing her hands.

“I’m sorry I was a little fuckin preoccupied with the fact my sister is fucking an assassin-

“Former assassin!” Bucky corrected.

“Hey TT!” Sarah’s boys greeted simultaneously with smiles as they bent the corner.

“Hey my babies!” Y/n instantly put a smile on her face pulling them each into her arms.

“Hey Bucky!” Cass waved

“Hey Bucky!” AJ addressed the solider as well before turning back toward his brother, “Cass , come on.”

“Wait let me put the pizza on the counter-“

“No!” The three adults exclaimed together.

“No boo, I’ll take it.” Y/n smiled again at her nephew taking the pizza.

“why don’t yall go in the living room and get the game set up?” Sam suggested.

“Yes! Let’s take the pizza in there while they bleach the kitchen?” Y/n hinted at the men while telling the kids to follow her.

“Oh yeah! TT, Uncle Sam got us two new video games!”,AJ informed her. “He also said we can watch a scary movie tonight since moms not here.

“Yeah! Andddd, he said we can door dash ice cream!” Cass added as the two kids followed their aunt into the living room.

Though he was silent, throughout the entire interaction but he couldn’t help but want you living room interact with the two kids. Back in the day, if you would’ve asked him if he believed in love at first site he would’ve said no. But he was pretty sure he was in love with Y/n already.

Once out of sight, Bucky took that opportunity to speak after a beat.

“Have I ever told you I’m glad you treat your nephew’s so well, Sam?” He asked after clearing his throat.

Sam sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Bucky turned to him with a huge grin on his face.

“Cuz I’m gonna give you another one.”

Slowly Sam began to laugh, albeit one full of sarcasm, Bucky joined in sincerely. They laughed together for a moment before Sam ceased, his face expressionless.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 6

Prev

AO3

Jason walks into the hospital room, heart breaking at the sight. Adrien, a huge bandage covering what was left of his arm and part of his shoulder. And next to him… This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be there to make sure the kids didn’t get hurt. Instead, Ladybug- no, Marinette, he reminded himself. She had told him her name through sobs as he held her on the roof after they gave their statements to the police. Marinette blamed herself. He could see it in everything she did, the way she responded to people, her body language around Adrien and Jason. He knew she blamed herself. But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t the one who had been trained to fight villains like that. Villains willing to kill kids to get ahead. But Jason was trained. He was supposed to be prepared and know what to do. But now, Adrien would have to relearn how to do everything with just one arm. Sure, he could get a prosthetic, but that wouldn’t be for several weeks. And even if he chooses to get a prosthetic, he’d have to relearn everything. Again. And it was all because Jason couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save anyone. Jason turns to leave, not ready to talk to the boy who lost an arm because Jason wasn’t fast enough.

“Jay?” A soft voice from the bed calls, making Jason freeze. Whirling around, he rushes over to the bed, immediately looking the boy over to see if he’s okay. 

“Hey kiddo, how ya feeling? Are you- I’m so sorry.” Jason rambles, falling onto the spare chair next to Adrien’s bed. A chair that should’ve held a parent. If Gabriel wasn’t a piece of shit supervillain who cut off his own son’s arm and kept his wife’s corpse in a hidden basement. Yeah, that investigation must’ve sucked. 

“It’s weird.” He says, and Jason frowns at the tears filling the boy’s eyes. “My arm hurts, Jay. Really bad. But every time I try to hold it, or move it to a position that doesn’t hurt- it’s not there.” 

“Oh kid.” Jason clamps his mouth shut, determined to not let the kid hear his voice cracks, determined not to let the kid see him cry. What did he have to cry about? He’s the one that wasn’t good enough to protect these kids. Jason leans forward and gently wraps his arms around Adrien, letting the boy sob into his shoulder. Holding onto a sobbing Adrien, Jason’s able to see Marinette wake up and instantly leap into a fighting position. When she notices him, she relaxes slightly, until she sees the crying boy. Then her face morphs into pain and she backs up away from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mari?” Adrien says, pulling away from Jason and sniffling. 

“I’m so sorry Adrien. It’s, it’s all my fault.” She says, still keeping her distance. Jason sighs and stands, moving across the room in two large strides and wrapping her into a hug. She stiffens for a moment before basically collapsing in his arms. Jason just holds her and lets her cry, just as he let her on the roof two nights ago. After years of not being able to feel anything other than happy, Jason would support these kids and encourage them to feel. Even if it hurt. They deserved to feel. 

---

Sitting and talking to Adrien about anything and everything after school had become a daily occurrence for Marinette. Jason walking her from school to the hospital had also become a daily occurrence. So walking by herself was weird. Doable, because she was Ladybug and could walk across Paris alone, but still weird. Especially since Jason was so insistent on her being more careful now that Hawkmoth- Gabriel- was behind bars. Jay was convinced that that meant that the regular, run of the mill bad guys would come back out of the woodwork now that they didn’t have to deal with possible akumas. Regardless, that hadn’t happened yet and she could easily walk by herself. It was still weird though. Walking into the hospital, Marinette frowns at Jason who was pacing and rapidly arguing with someone on the phone in English. Quickly reminding herself that, no he wouldn’t be akumatized, and yes, he was allowed to have negative feelings, she moves so that she’s in his line of sight. Making eye contact with him, she raises an eyebrow as a silent question. He frowns, but doesn’t do anything else except nod towards Adrien’s room. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at his avoidance, Marinette lets herself into Adrien’s room, smiling softly at her friend. The first two days after the battle, she could barely look at him. She blamed herself completely and didn’t feel like she was worthy of being his friend anymore. Now, almost a week after the battle, she still blamed herself. But it was easier to look at him, easier to talk to him.  

“Hey kitty.” She says, walking over and sitting in the chair on the left side of his bed. 

“Hey bug. Jay still on the phone?” He asks, and that’s when she notices the tell-tale signs of worry on his face. 

“Yeah...how long has he been on the phone?” She asks, frowning at his wince. 

“Well, he tried to ignore the person the first three times they called. And then he finally answered, said ‘leave me alone’ and hung up. And then they called again, and that’s when the yelling and arguing started and he left the room. That was…” He trails off, looking towards the clock on the wall. “Almost two hours ago.” “Two hours? On the phone? You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you? I mean, I know he has a life back where he lives, and I’m sure his boss is probably getting frustrated with him. But-” Marinette stops herself, not wanting to say something selfish. She knew that Jason had a life outside of Paris. But he was the only grown up to care that Ladybug and Chat Noir were just kids, that they needed help. He was the one to make sure they weren’t spending too much time being heroes and not enough time sleeping and doing homework. He was their big brother, and she wasn’t ready to say bye yet. Even if they could still call him. It wasn’t the same.

---

Jason Todd was livid, and for the millionth time that week, thankful that Gabriel Agreste was rotting in a prison cell instead of manipulating people who were having a bad day. Cause this was not a good day. 

“B, I’m not sure what you want from me.” He finally huffs out, glancing towards Adrien’s shut door. 

“I just want to know why you haven’t returned. Dick informed me of the flooding your first day, and how things seemed to magically fix themselves. You told us that everything was taken care of, and then you stopped answering any questions about the situation. Seeing as there is apparently no immediate danger to anyone there, I think it’s time you returned home. You have responsibilities here, Jason. Your family is here.” Bruce says simply, and Jason has to bite his tongue from arguing. How was he supposed to tell Bruce about these kids who needed support that they weren’t getting anywhere else. That there were two young superheroes in Paris who needed someone to understand what they were going through, since they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell anyone else? Bruce would have adoption papers written up in minutes, and taking the two from their city didn’t seem right. Plus he would never let Bruce adopt them, the kids had enough emotional baggage to deal with without being a Wayne. 

“I just haven’t, Bruce. I’m a grown man. I-” “You have responsibilities, Jason. I let you take this vacation because I could see you needed it. But now we need you. I- your brothers miss you.” Bruce says, and Jason rolls his eyes at the man’s inability to be emotional. He would’ve done great in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

“Okay, I’ll start looking for a ticket. I should be home in two or three weeks-”

“I’ve already ordered a ticket for you. Your flight leaves Paris at noon tomorrow. See you then.” Bruce says, hanging up before Jason has the chance to argue more. Not that he had the energy after going back and forth between arguing with Dick and Bruce for two goddamned hours. Resisting the urge to throw his phone against the wall, Jason takes a couple deep breaths to ground himself. No need to upset Mari and Adrien and if he goes in there pissed off, they’re gonna get upset. Shaking his head to try and clear it, Jason throws open Adrien’s door, grinning at the two, sitting side by side on Adrien’s bed. 

“Pixie Pop, you’re gonna piss off the nurse if she sees you up there again.” He says, walking over to his usual chair. 

“You’re upset.” She says, instead of arguing and reminding him that she can take anything the nurses can dish out (they’d had the exact conversation yesterday….and the day before.) Jason blinks, acting confused. 

“Don’t even try and act like you’re not Jay. Mari’s scary good at reading people.” Adrien says with a frown. Jason huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m pissed.” He admits, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. Marinette turns to Adrien and whispers something to him, Adrien nodding before she turns back to look at him. 

“You’re gonna need our phone numbers.” She says, and Jason frowns in actual confusion this time. 

“Gonna need a little more than that, Pix.” He says. 

“Well, we knew that you’re not from here. And that eventually you’d have to go back. I mean, I’m sure your boss wasn’t planning on you taking a vacation quite this long. But-” Marinette pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But neither of us want to lose you. You care about both sides of us, and you’re the only one. You’re our big brother, Jay, but we both know that you have another life somewhere else. And I’m sure those people miss you too. I mean, you’re kinda cool or whatever.” Marinette teases, but he can tell behind the smirk that she’s close to tears. Jason sighs and stands, bringing both of them into a big hug. 

“I don’t wanna leave, ya know.” He mumbles, frowning when he feels his shirt getting wet from tears. 

“I know. But you have to. And that’s okay. It’s not goodbye forever.” Marinette says, her voice breaking as she holds onto him tighter. 

“Expect a lot of calls and face times. Especially once I get my arm. I have so many jokes to make, you’re gonna be sick of it.” Adrien says, and despite the joke, Jason can tell the boy is crying too. Jason squeezes a little tighter, accepting the fact that he’d be leaving. And that he wasn’t sure when he’d see the two again.

Next

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat 

[novoaa1writes]

“hey. wanna bang?”

pairing: mazikeen x f!reader

summary: you meet maze on a night out at lux. the two of you hit it off, and end up sleeping together. you leave the next morning thinking it’s a one-off, but maze seems to have other ideas...

rating: teen

word count: ~1,300

warnings: implied sexual content, implied sex, minor blood and injury (not to either of you), maze being prone to violence and always ready to stab a bitch

notes: none? i don’t think? i just haven’t seen that many maze x reader works so figured i’d contribute something. also available on ao3

— —

You remember meeting Mazikeen like it was yesterday. 

It was late—quarter after midnight, maybe, and you were drunk. Well, not drunk. More like buzzed. 

After all, why shouldn’t you be? Your finals were over, you already had more than enough in your savings for next month’s rent, and your friend Vanya had managed to get the two of you on the list for Lux, the most popular nightclub in the city. 

It was just for one night, of course, but it was still pretty freaking cool regardless—sleek leather upholstery, a bar taking up the entirety of one wall, a spotless grand piano on the ground floor. In short, Lux made your guys’ go-to nightclub look like a shitty dive bar in comparison. 

Vanya had just left to go home with some dapper twenty-something woman in a suit, leaving you alone at the bar amidst a gaggle of exceedingly well-dressed people knocking back your third $20 shot of the night. 

With that, you were about ready to call it quits and send for an Uber to take you back home… except, it seemed, the night had other plans for you. 

Or, perhaps you should say Maze had other plans for you. 

She sidled up next to you at the bar, shoving over a lip-locked couple to make room for herself. If she felt the man turn to glower at her or the woman scoff and roll her eyes at her rudeness, she didn’t let on. 

“Hey,” she said, not even bothering to hide the way she was eyeing you up and down like a predator would its prey. “Wanna bang?” 

And… well. Turns out, you very much did want to “bang.”

You awoke buried in a mess of sheets atop a very nice bed in a loft that probably cost at least twice your yearly tuition, a fully-naked Mazikeen staring down at you with a quizzical expression.

You startled fully awake with a jolt, but managed to recover and flash her a shaky smile in the interest of keeping things casual, or... something. 

“Hi,” you said.

“Hello,” she said. She was still staring, completely unapologetic. 

It was strange—like all her boldness and audacity from the night before had suddenly vanished, replaced by… well, by what, you weren’t quite sure.  

“How long have you been awake?” you asked. 

She tilted her head slightly to the side, though her eyes didn’t leave you. “Hours.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, tracked the movements of her fingers brushing your skin with rapt attention. “You look.... not unpleasant when you sleep,” she said finally, then winced as she retracted her hand as though it physically pained her to do so. “For a human.”

You blinked, taken aback. The hell did that mean? “... Thanks?”

Her lips twitched. “You’re welcome.”

You giggled. “You’re weird.” Caution bled into her gaze, and you rushed to reassure her. “No, not bad weird… it’s good. I like it.”

She nodded, though she still looked wary. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

You yawned, turning your head over to glance at the clock on the nightstand and—

Oh, shit. It was 10:42. 

“Fuck!” you shrieked, bolting upright in bed and throwing off the covers. “I’m late!”

“Late for what?” Maze asked. She watched with a vaguely disgruntled expression as you stumbled to your feet, far too frazzled to be abashed about your state of undress, eyes darting wildly around the room in search of your clothes.

“Work!”

And that… that was the first time it happened. Not that you’d expected (in any sense of the word) that this… thing you had was going to continue.

You weren’t exactly the girl who did one-night stands on a weekly basis or anything, but you’d had your fair share. You knew what to expect. Cocktails at the club, drunken sex, quick exit the morning after. Maybe one (or both) of you would stress meaningless pleasantries enough to exchange numbers or say “We should do this again sometime” or maybe even stay for breakfast (rarely), but that’s all they would amount to—meaningless pleasantries. 

You’d go to work (or class) the next day, head to the club on the weekend to drink and flirt with some random stranger (a different one this time), and that would be that. 

It didn’t matter that the sex was even more fantastic than it ever had been (which it was), or the way your heart skipped a beat when Maze’s fingertips brushed along your jaw (which it had). You knew better than to get hung up over a drunken one-night stand—especially one that started out with “Hey, wanna bang?”

 So, imagine your surprise when Maze strode into the 66th Ave Lounge where you worked as a bartender and made a beeline straight for you, gaze narrowed and lips flattened out into a thin line. She almost looked… angry—though, you were beginning to understand that ‘angry’ was pretty much Maze’s natural state of being.

It also seemed like the world had it out for you that day, because right then, some hammered middle-aged jackass from the other end of the bar decided to speak up, making some gross (and blatantly derogatory) comment about your tits. 

The effect was immediate: Anger flared like a lit match in Maze’s eyes, and she swiftly changed directions, stomping over to the sleazy man in question with narrowed eyes and murderous intent rolling off of her in waves. 

Needless to say, he got his hand skewered to the bar by one of the numerous curved blades on Maze’s person and a swift knee to the crotch for his troubles. 

He was screaming bloody murder in a matter of seconds, Maze had procured twin knives seemingly out of nowhere as she bore down, and you didn’t doubt that she’d have finished the job had you not chosen that exact moment to intervene. 

“Maze, stop !” you ordered—or, at least, tried to. Your voice trembled horribly, and it was at least an octave higher than usual. 

Immediately, she froze. 

You fought the sudden urge to shrivel on the spot as she turned her hard gaze upon you, brows raised in something like a challenge. 

“Maze, it’s fine,” you told her—pleaded, really. The man whimpered, slumped over the bar, drool and tears wetting the lacquered wood. “He’s drunk. He didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, I think he did.”

“Maze…” You sighed, silently begging her with your eyes. “Please. Even if he did, you’ve punished him enough, don’t you think?”

Maze’s expression softened incrementally, and she heaved a sigh. “Fine.” 

She snatched the ringed handle of her blade, yanked it loose from the bar (and the man’s hand) with little effort. The man screamed and sobbed, collapsing down onto the floor the moment he was freed. You fought the urge to grimace at the smear of blood he left on the bar. 

“But only because it’s you asking,” she clarified, then turned to loom over the writhing man, pointing down at him menacingly with her bloodied knife. “You say anything about my girl again—hell, you even look at her the wrong way… I’ll find you. And next time, she won’t be there to save your sorry ass. Got it?”

“G-Got it,” the man sobbed, his words choked with tears. 

“Good.” With that, Maze’s expression cleared as she turned to give you a calculating look over the bar. “When’s your shift over?”

You blinked, your brain struggling to comprehend what just happened. Primarily: ‘My girl’? “I-I get off at 11:00.”

“Good.” Maze’s full lips curved into a wolfish grin. “I’ll pick you up… and then we can get off.”

Then, she turned on her heel and strutted back out of the lounge without a backwards glance, leaving you confused, terrified, and… ridiculously turned-on in her wake. 

Holy shit. 

— —

end notes: idk i love maze being soft / confused by human interaction and confounded by Feeling Things™ but also being endlessly stabby because she’s maze and stabbing people is part of her charm

[burnedbyshoto]

mamihlapinatapei

— mamihlapinatapei: wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start. —

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pairing: todoroki natsuo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, praise, choking, cockwarming, orgasm denial

word count: 8,903

a/n: a commission for @redbeanteax​, sorry it took so long. my back is in so much pain and good god did i feel like i was cheating on shouto when writing this. i hope you enjoy it!!!!

message me to join my taglist!

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Soulmates were an old concept.

It was this phenomenon that had first occurred so many years ago. It was a miracle that allowed the two perfect halves come together. 

In its initial introduction, divorce rates and plummeted to all-time lows! For an entire generation, divorce rates were at an all-time low of zero. No one in the world were getting divorces, choosing to stay with the person that was deemed worthy of them. It seemed for some time that people were going to fall in love with their soulmates and find happiness and prosperity for them.

That is until soulmates crossed borders, seas, racial tensions, economic differences, and sexual preferences…

The rich stopped trying to bring someone in for a rag to riches effect, choosing to instead marry within their own class circle, choosing wealth over love. International soulmates couldn’t figure out a common language, they’d sit in front of each other with lousy translator apps, unable to talk freely and openly, and soon their relationship was destroyed. Racial tensions were especially hard. There were reports of soulmates waking back up into their bodies to find their home destroyed and family hurt because their soulmate could not stand the thought -- the idea -- of the race of their soulmate. There were still homophobic people in this world of soulmates who could not accept their sexuality when presented to their soulmate who was the same gender and would not leave any means of contact behind.

Soulmates, while excellent and loving when it is something within your reach, turned out to be a pretty fucked up thing.

But nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from ever hoping that whoever your soulmate was, it would be someone who would love you precisely who you are, no matter who they were.

Your tired eyes focused on your paper, your eyes scanning the different lines that glowed on your computer screen, trying to find a better way to propose your thoughts. There wasn’t much to this paper, it was a reasonably simple paper about the pros and cons of soulmates for your anthro and philosophy class. Since you were little, you revered in the concept of soulmates, your excitement to be in love with someone for the rest of your life was a pretty solid thing, even at a young age.

As you grew older, you held onto this idea, choosing to ignore the issues with soulmates in favor of optimism and positivity. There were still many, many happy and in love, soulmates! After all, there was still an 87% rate for soulmates marrying each other, the opposing 13% came from the worst of people, the most disadvantaged of people, and the most influential people. It’s how it was.

For a college student in Japan, you figured that you had a solid chance of having a soulmate that you could love and have their love in return. But your issue was the mystery behind it, the unknowing of it all. While you knew that soulmates did mean pure love, there was a part of you that hoped that there this someone out there was someone you already knew.

Well, there was one person in particular.

“I’ll proofread your paper if you look at mine,” a tired voice croaked from hours of not being used.

Your eyes felt dry, and you glanced up at the white-haired boy who was the holder of your affections for about two years now. 

Todoroki Natsuo.

“Only if you don’t make fun of mine, I’m so bad at this philosophical bullshit,” you groan, rubbing your face. You heard Natsuo snort, his arms stretched above his head, and your eyes dropped back down onto your screen, not wanting to be staring at him. 

“Oh please, I’m sure I’ll feel leagues smarter by the time I finish reading it,” he grinned, and you felt yourself looking back at the white-haired man who was pushing his laptop towards you.

“You’re annoying,” you sigh, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face when you hand over your own device.

“Sure, sure.”

What was there to say about him?

You had met him two years ago during freshmen orientation, he was in your introduction group, and coincidentally in the same classes as you. The two of you ended up getting fairly close over the first semester of college, and by the end of your spring semester, you realized in horror that you had a crush on him.

These feelings weren’t bad, he was a respectful and caring boyfriend, that was something you knew without a doubt. Of course, knowing that he is that, and not hypothetically assuming it meant that he had a girlfriend. Yes, Todoroki Natsuo was a taken man.

You’d never really met his girlfriend. You knew who she was, how she looked like, her favorite things in the world, and her least favorite things, that’s how much Natuso talked about her. You had the pleasure of meeting her once, and the only thing you could remember is that she had mouse ears and the personality of a mouse. Scared, timid, and squeaky.

She barely talked to you, and after the initial meeting would never join Natsuo and you anywhere.

You didn’t take it personally, you wouldn’t really want to hang out with her either, especially with how you felt about Natsuo. It was a conflict of pretending that you and Natsuo were falling in love, ignoring the impeding time you had to be with him, and of course, the guilt that coursed through your body whenever you rested your head against his shoulder during these late-night studies. 

In two weeks, it was July 2.

Somehow on this day, you would swap bodies with your soulmate when you fell asleep, and when you woke up, you had five minutes to figure out how to get them to reconnect with you. Most people left their phones unlocked that day, letting their soulmates leave their phone numbers in their phone, sometimes they’d leave their address, and Instagram and Twitter handle. After so many generations of soulmates experiencing this, and the ever-evolving technology, this was the way that people effectively found their soulmates once the five minutes were up.

But unlike what people had once assumed, there was no exact age as to when you would swap bodies. Some people were lucky to swap bodies at the age of sixteen, and the oldest recorded case was when someone was twenty-four. You were nineteen, as was Natsuo, neither one of you had this soulmate experience yet, but unlike before, you had a strong feeling that this was your year.

“It looks great,” Natsuo whistled lowly, his head shaking while giving back your laptop. 

You felt your face grow warm at the praise, your fingers highlighting another sentence for him to correct, “Thanks.”

“What you thinking about mine?”

You sighed, pushing away from the table so that you were looking into his grey eyes that looked at you with curiosity and high respect. 

“I’m a bit confused about your position,” you admitted, your fingers brushing back your hair so that you could look at the man whose lips pursed in thought. “You’re saying that soulmates are bullshit, but you believe it regardless?”

Natsuo nods his head, an embarrassed blush stretching across his face, “Well yeah, they kinda are. How is some cosmic thing the thing in charge of telling me about who I am to truly love?”

“So when you find out who your soulmate is, you won’t love them, but you’ll stay with them?”

“Yes? I don’t know… I know that my parents aren’t soulmates, and that didn’t work out. It’s hard for me to explain, but I really like Mausua, and I want to see how far things can go with her,” Natuso explains his thoughts to you, that stupid grin spreading on his face that always appeared whenever he talked about her. “I mean for years people didn’t marry their exact soulmates, but they were happy and in love for ages. Why can’t I try that out?”

You tried to hide the fact that those words hurt you. It shouldn’t have mattered, after all, there was no saying that the two of you were soulmates, and the probability of that happening was entirely slim to none. 

“Yeah, why not?”

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June 30 - one-week left

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You were slumped on top of the table, your head banging against the cool wood while Natsuo recited his notes to you. The both of you were in the middle of some argument that had tailed off in fifty different directions, neither one of you admitting defeat.

“Natsuo, I don’t give a flying fuck if that’s what the notes say!” you yell, throwing your eraser at his head, an act that he easily evaded while continuing to read off his notes. “You don’t give the baby the torch flame!”

“You’re not even listening to what I’m saying,” Natsuo insists with a laugh, his notebook coming to hit your back slightly. “If you give the baby the flame, they’ll be unbeatable!”

If you could roll your eyes any harder than they did now, you were sure you would manage to see your brain, but instead, you shifted on the table so that you were facing Natsuo, and you stuck out your tongue.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth before I pinch it.”

“Sowwy, I donth understhand,” you retorted your nose, turning up towards the ceiling.

Natsuo’s hands grabbed your wrists, and you shrieked, immediately trying to fight him off while he dragged you towards him. Screams and laughter filled the air until Natsuo accidentally pulled you off the table. So there you two sat, on the floor of the study room, in hysterics.

Your hands clutched your sides, breathing failing you while your ass stung slightly from the pain of falling. Natsuo’s face was red, his feet slamming against the floor periodically enough that you almost assumed that he was going to pee himself. 

“Just go to your stupid date already,” you groaned once your laughter subsided, your eyes resting on Natsuo, who was now laying on the floor exhausted. “You’re going to be late!”

Every Saturday after you and Natsuo were done studying, he would have a date night with Mausua. It was something he never missed, something he always made sure they did, even when his nose was dripping with snot, and he had the worst migraine. It’s just how he was.

Natsuo paused, his eyes looking at you with a shine of pain, and you sat up despite the soreness of your stomach. There was something wrong.

“She broke up with me,” Natuso admitted with a stiff smile, his shoulders shrugging. “Last night, she had this feeling that this was her year to find her soulmate, and well, I don’t know…”

His hand dragged across his face, and your eyebrows scrunched together. Scooting closer to him, you sat shoulder to shoulder with him before you nudged him with the back of your hand, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, actually I am,” Natsuo responded despite the wry smile on his face, “I mean, it sucks, but what can I do about it?”

“Cry, scream, we can go buy cats and put them by her front door,” you began listing off a bunch of different things, most ideas being straight near criminal, but it made Natsuo laugh.

“Remind me to never mess with you,” Natsuo shoves you with his shoulder. The force of that alone nearly sends you flying, but you merely grunt in response. “But, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” you ask, obviously unconvinced.

“Yeah,” he nods, “I will take a hug if you don’t believe me.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, stretching out a hand you helped Natsuo to his feet, and without a second thought, you wrapped him into a hug. Your body feels just a bit warm when he held you close. 

“I’ll show up at her door with a cat and a baby with a blowtorch, just say the word.”

“Stop, you menace.”

“Shut up, you know you love me.”

“Have I ever denied that before?”

“Yes.”

“True.”

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July 1 - one day left

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“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” You screamed, shoving a birthday present into Natsuo’s face the moment he opened the door. 

Natsuo graciously accepted the present, his face brightening with a smile while he thanked you for the gift. “I thought I said I didn’t need anything.”

You shrugged, walking into the house and taking off your shoes, “That’s what you thought, but I am far wiser and know exactly what you need!”

Natsuo snorts, closing the door behind you, and the two of you make light chatter while walking into the house. It had been a while since you came to his house. The last time you had been around, he was still living under the same roof with his dad, but this one was without him. The house had a different energy to it, one that was nothing similar to that of the old house. It was comforting and warm, despite the coldness the family preferred.

Today was Natsuo’s birthday, and he had invited you over for his birthday dinner with his family, something that he didn’t do last year with you. Thankfully you had met most of his family, his sister Fuyumi was an obvious one, and you also had the chance of meeting Rei the other month while running into the mother and son at a tea shop one day. You also had sort of met his baby brother Shouto, who you only really knew because of the U.A. Sports Festival.

Dinner was lovely, the four Todoroki’s, and you enjoyed a bunch of sashimi while talking. The family dynamic was also bizarre for you to experience. Fuyumi was obviously used to being the conversationalist. She was very talkative and inquisitive during the entire night. Shouto was trying his hardest to -- in the most helpful way possible -- act normal. He was stiff but a good conversationalist if you overlooked the often weird phrases he had to say. Rei seemed to be the mediator, trying her best to enjoy the situation but also getting involved within these sibling discussions. And of course, there was Natsuo, who for the first time since you’ve met him was being quite the Drama Queen. 

It was endearing to watch Natsuo quarrel with his sister and brother over matters that seemed so trivial and pointless. They were all very strongwilled, it seemed.

“How about you, y/n-chan,” Rei smiled at you, interrupting the ridiculous argument between Shouto and Natsuo about how Natsuo wasn’t going to wake up in someone else’s body the next morning. “Are you expecting to wake up in your soulmate’s body?”

You smiled stiffly, the searing gaze of the two Todoroki brothers burning into your body while you stared at Rei, was this family always this intense?

“Well, I haven’t yet,” you laugh, brushing your hair to the side, “I would definitely like to, but there’s no saying.”

Shouto seemed to sigh, his finger pointing at you, then motioning over to Natsuo, “But is Natsuo going to wake up knowing his soulmate?”

“Shouto!”

Dinner ended with a scoop of ice cream, and you listened in horror and fascination. At the same time, Shouto explained to his family about the insane adventures he’d had at U.A. After helping with cleaning up and thanking the family for dinner, you ended up following Natsuo into his room.

It took no time for you to fall onto his futon, your arms spread out on his bed while Natsuo grabbed your present for him.

“I wonder what this is,” he sang, plopping down next to you.

You immediately sat back up, a grin on your face due to the excitement that flooded your veins, knowing that this was a pretty damn good present. 

“Obviously, it’s a photo album of me,” you teased, and he seemed to agree that it was that while he unwrapped it.

From the bag, he pulled out a hoodie that he had been raving about for months now. He had never bought it because he sucked at saving up money for this exclusive hoodie. It was a navy blue sweatshirt that had English print all over it, you couldn’t read what it said as you didn’t learn English while in high school, but it was supposed to be pretty cool.

“Y/n,” Natsuo breathed slowly, his eyes wide and round, his fingers barely touching the fabric. It was as if he felt the material too much it was stain with his fingertips or complete disintegrates within his touch. “How did you? It was sold out, I checked!”

“You told me about how much you wanted this months ago. It was too late for Christmas, so I bought it in advance for your birthday,” you explained with a grin. Warmth flooded your chest while you watched his starstruck expression, and you only felt your heart beat faster when he turned his attention onto you. So you smiled, even more, your eyes closing in your mirth, “Happy birthday, Natsuo!”

You expected him to hug you, to bring you in close and tell you how grateful he was for this gift -- if that much. But when his fingers touched your cheeks, your eyes flew open to see his gaze focused on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

There was nothing you could say, your words failing you entirely because this is what you had wanted for years. Tonight was going to be life-changing for you -- whether it was a pleasant change or an adverse change, you had no idea. You’d wanted this for too long to deny him a just a kiss, right?

Your heart is hammering so loudly you swear he can hear it, and with a shaky placement of your hands on his wrist, you seal the space left between the two of you.

While you had never officially dated anyone before, you’ve definitely kissed other people before Natsuo. Most of the other kisses you had were -- quite frankly -- unideal. Stiff and cold lips, rigid bodies, too much saliva pouring from their mouths, disgust soaking your spine, and awkward hand roaming. But this? This was more than anything you could have ever hoped for.

His lips were gentle against yours. A soft rose petal that warmed you from the inside out, a flexible coax that reminded you that despite your ideals, this is what you wanted most. Your head tilted to the side, allowing your meeting lips to connect further, your bodies coming together in yet a bigger and more powerful wave. 

But as the sensations that riled your blood and nerves, the actions the two of you grew bolder, riskier, much more passionate.

His fingers released your chin, moving to grip onto your waist, pulling you in. You gasped against his lips, the demanding actions catching you off guard. Your hands pressed onto his chest, your legs shifting so that you were now straddling the larger boy, and you swore you could see stars the second his tongue skimmed your bottom lip.

Closer.

Better.

Wistful.

Your back arched, your chest meeting his when his tongue traced the roof of your mouth, and your hips involuntarily ground against his nearly trembling thighs. He hissed, barely loud enough for you to hear, but his cold fingers slid under your shirt, and you shuddered.

There was no time to react, you felt your body being flipped, and Natsuo was on top of you, his hips grinding into you emphatically, continuously, and unrelentingly. Your hips met his with every movement, your legs wrapped tightly against his waist, trying your best to get him to lose his train of thought with every roll of your hips. The growing bulge in his pants was only a clear indictment to what you were doing to him. Of what was to come of this night. Your head fell back, your jaw-dropping, while you made choking noises, refusing to let such a loud audible noise escape your mouth. But it seemed that Natsuo wanted to hear you moan, to feel you squirm against his hold.

This was making your body explode with sensations you didn’t think was possible from someone who wasn’t your soulmate. 

Natsuo’s lips pressed down your neck to your chest, your mind swam with the word soulmate, and your tongue was drenched with his name.

Soulmate.

Tonight was the night you were going to find out.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long,” Natsuo groaned, his tongue leaving wet stripes against your chest, and with the feeling of his fingers tweaking at your nipples through your shirt, you panicked.

“Get off me!” you squeaked, your hands shoving at his shoulders, your legs unwrapping around him.

“What’s wrong?!” Natsuo panics, his hands checking up and down his wrinkled clothes, his body on edge and filled with worry. “Did I do something wrong?!”

“I can’t do this!” you pant, your body feeling itchy at your conflicting emotions. You could do this, you knew that. It would take nothing for you to spend the night with one Todoroki Natsuo, but not on this night, not when you were so sure that you would figure out who your soulmate is. Not if they would wake up in your body with a naked man beside them. No, you couldn’t do that. “Tonight is the special night… and I can’t… we can’t! Not when there’s a possibility that someone is waiting for me!”

Natsuo’s eyebrows furrow, his face setting into an icy frown. There was a clear understanding on his face, emotions that let you know that while he was very disappointed, he understood.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your gaze no longer able to reach his.

“It’s okay,” he smiles weakly, but his voice is distant and terse. “I’ll see you out…”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Your eyes focused on the ceiling of your bedroom.

Even though it was three hours since you’ve left the Todoroki residence, your heart was still unfairly beating at the thought of Natsuo kissing you, and the implications of what the both of you wanted to do but hadn’t mustered the courage to do. 

You thought about the fact that he had just broken up with his girlfriend seven days ago, maybe he was projecting his no longer met hormones on you? There was no way your best friend was in love with you and chose not to say anything about it until now. But then again, because he was in a relationship, that confession would have been a dick move. But if he did love you, and not her, why would he have stayed with her?

You’re not really sure when you managed to pass out, considering that you had been tossing and turning for literal hours. But soon, you drifted off to sleep, with nothing but a prayer that when you woke up that you would be in someone else’s body. 

Your eyes opened when a crack of sunlight hit your face, and you slammed a hand against your face. But your hand came down heavier against your face, and you groaned in pain. But it wasn’t your voice…

Shooting up from your bed, your eyes searched the room around you. It wasn’t yours, you knew that much. But there was something familiar about the color of the walls and the furniture of the room. Rushing to your feet, you saw a mirror and looked into it. 

You were met with grey eyes, gentle, kind, and familiar grey eyes. Your fingers traced the pale skin and felt the white hair on your head.

What were the chances?

Todoroki Natsuo was your soulmate.

A smile spread across your face, an unbelievably gracious joy filling you up. But then Natsuo’s phone began to ring, and you picked it up to see your contact picture showing. It was a rather good picture of you and him, a memory from club rush during your first semester of college. On the top were your first name and a pure heart emoji.

Grinning much broader, you picked up the call, placing the phone to your ear, you spoke.

“Hello?”

“What were the chances?” you heard your voice respond back to you, and it took everything not to giggle lunatically within Natsuo’s body.

“I’d say less than zero.”

“Yet here we are,” he teased you, and you went to push back nonexistent hair behind your ear. Dropping your hand to the dresser, you shake your head.

“Are you disappointed?” you couldn’t help but ask, your worries about you being a distraction for him still hot on your mind.

“Definitely not,” he spoke softly, “I know what you’re thinking, y/n. That you were nothing but a distraction from Mausua, or how when I blurted my feelings, they were too in the moment. I should have broken up with her ages ago, but I don’t know. You just didn’t seem attainable to me.”

“You’re an idiot for thinking that, Todoroki,” you sniff, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, now,” he reprimanded you, but the teasing was still heavy in his tone, “it’s Todoroki-san to you.”

A smile grew on your face, and you scoffed playfully, “Todoroki-san? I’d much rather call you daddy.”

Now you knew what noises you made, you were nineteen, nearly twenty with a few sexual experiences yourself. Now the sound that escaped Natsuo’s voice was one of approval, and heat spread through your body.

“We have less than a minute,” Natsuo spoke as lowly as your voice could go, and it sent goosebumps down your spine, “I’ll meet you at your place. Are your roommates here?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Your eyes closed, and you listened to Natsuo’s directions. His voice flowing from your voice and slowly ended with his own. Your eyes fluttered open to see yourself standing in your bathroom with your cellphone to your ear. Heat flooded your body, and you realized just how cold his body was. 

“I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” he spoke sharply, and a smirk curled onto your face.

“Okay, daddy,” you accentuated.

You couldn’t see him, but you could feel his nostrils flare from the opposite end of the call, a dark look on his face. The line went dead, and an internal panic flared through your veins.

Twenty minutes to prepare, could you even manage that?!

You took the fastest five-minute shower in your life, nearly slipping against the slick bathtub while shaving your legs. Hopping out of the shower, you were quick to brush your teeth, putting product in your hair, and once you were done, you scrambled back to your room. Your hands throwing on the first set of lingerie you found, it was a navy blue teddy that had a deep plunge between your breasts. You hastily slid your sheer navy blue thigh highs up your legs, and just managed to slip your large t-shirt back over your head when there was a knock on your front door.

Looking into your mirror, you felt your chest tighten, your stomach filling with butterflies that left you feeling dizzy. It felt like an eternity when you walked to the front door, rising to the tip of your toes to see Natsuo standing outside of your door. His signature white with grey jacket over a dark grey tank that seemed just the perfect fit, you noticed black joggers on him too, and your teeth buried against your bottom lip, your heart beating erratically.

“Who is it?” you asked teasingly, watching the way Natsuo’s eyes snapped up, and you grinned at the way a coy smile stretched across his face.

“Open up and find out?”

“Mm,” you sigh, pressing a finger to your chin, “I don’t particularly want to find out.”

But nevertheless, your fingers found themselves on your doorknob, opening the wood door to see Natsuo standing there. His eyes were drinking in your face, and there was such a loving smile that emerged on his face.

“Hi, soulmate,” he whispered.

It was no different from the typical way he greeted you, but the simple addition of soulmate sent fire to your cheeks and stomach. 

“Hi,” you whisper, stepping aside, letting him in. 

He walked in, and you shut the door behind him, waiting for him to take off his shoes and remove his jacket, you stayed put. Your hands were behind your back, just waiting for him to look at you again. Your thoughts trailed to what was going to happen, would you two have sex? Would he grip your waist so tightly you would be left with purple bruises? Would he enjoy having you as a partner for the rest of his life? You licked your lips as your thoughts wandered.

When he was finally ready, Natsuo took a step towards you, knocking you from your internal turmoil and having you stare straight into his grey eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked you again, and like before, you didn’t answer him.

Reaching up, you brought him down for a kiss, but unlike before, the intentions were already known. The barriers and the restrictions between the two of you were gone, and you melted.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs while he took a confident stride forward, and you followed after him. Your lips were glued to his. Every divet, every line in his lips was smoothed out and memorized against yours. It made your head spin, this was your soulmate, he was yours. 

Natsuo’s mouth dragged away from yours, moving downwards on your neck. His teeth bit and pulled at your sensitive skin until you were moaning his name. His hands were running up and down your curves, measuring them against him. A small gasp escaped your lips when your thigh rubbed against his clothed erection, and you shivered when his fingers traced the part of your skin where the thigh highs ended. Growling against your skin, Natsuo’s fingers pulled at the elastic and let it go. The fabric came back against your skin, and you whimpered loudly.

“Natsuo, don’t tease,” you muttered, your fingers pressing against the incredibly defined muscles that were hidden underneath his jacket. You wanted it off. But Natsuo didn’t seem to notice your needs, choosing to continue to press searing kisses against your neck.

“Address me by daddy,” he growled, his lips parting with your skin so that you could stare into his eyes. His gaze was ferocious, drowning, and near angry, but for some reason, it sent heat right to your core before he slammed his lips back against yours into a bruising kiss.

You could barely keep up with his moving lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his hot tongue dragged against your lips.

Your hips weakly ground against his, and Natsuo met your needy hips until you were crying against his mouth, and his tongue invaded your mouth. Your fingers flew to his white hair, fisting the soft tendrils until he snarled. One moment you were on your feet and the next Natsuo’s hands cupped your ass and lifted you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt him walking towards your room. 

Your tongue danced against his, your mind doing everything it could to not fall under his spell. To keep fighting, to make sure that this wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what he wanted to be called. Curling your tongue in his mouth, you could feel the shiver go down Natsuo’s spine, and you pulled your tongue back in your mouth.

“Where are you taking me, daddy?” you whisper against his lips, your hips now grinding down against the head of his hard boner. Delighting in the fact that his grip on your ass becomes bruising, your rolling hips don’t slow down.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, baby girl.”

A chill slammed down your spine at that nickname, and you bite down on his lower lip. His gaze met yours, his eyes flaring with an internal fire that only aided to the light between your thighs. Fuck, did you want this man.

The door opened and closed when Natsuo entered your room, and your tongue lapped at his lips. 

His right hand left your ass, and you felt him fumble with the waistband of his joggers. You looked down to see his joggers and briefs fall, but had no time to admire the long and thick cock that sprung free from that restraint.

In what seemed like a perfect and fluid motion, Natsuo sat on your bed. He then shoved the panty of your teddy to the side.

“I don’t particularly like being teased, and last night was a lot,” he admitted, his fingers pressing between your already wet folds, and you cursed. Your hips ground against Natsuo’s fingers, and he grinned, seeing your reaction. “I think you deserved to be punished, don’t you think, baby girl?”

“No,” you breathlessly state, the feeling of his thick and cold fingers against your heated core formed goosebumps all over your body. “I think I’ve been perfectly well behaved, daddy.”

“I see we have a liar,” he chuckled, and before you could think of something to return with, his hands gripped your waist and sank you against his cock.

“FUCK!” you screamed at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out in such a way that had your forehead slamming against his shoulder. 

Your hips moved, trying to find a way to adjust to Natsuo’s girth that nearly sent tears to your eyes. You could feel the way his cock twitched within you, your tightness, and slick heat getting to him too while he whispered senseless praises into your ear. Your hips moved forward, both trying to relieve the pressure that demanded to be attended to and to bring the mindnumbing pleasure that your body begged for.

But Natsuo’s hands gripped onto your hips, keeping you against his girth. Your jaw dropped to complain, but his left hand lifted to press his fingers in your mouth, effectively silencing you. You gagged softly against his fingers, and you made a whining noise while his right arm wrapped around your waist.

His right fingers dug into your skin, most likely leaving behind purple bruises while his mouth trailed to your ears.

“You’ve been naughty, baby girl,” he sighed, his fingers pressed against your tongue, spreading out slowly when they traveled further back in your throat. Your breathing piqued, trying to remain calm while your throat attempted to constrict around his fingers. “Now, you’ll sit on my cock until I think you’re ready to be fucked.”

Your eyes fluttered when his fingers began to slide up and down your throat, your hips twitching in an attempt to get the friction you craved, and your inner walls ached around his softly throbbing cock. His finger curled in your throat, and your tongue lashed around his fingers, a desperate attempt to remain calm in this situation.

Forcibly, you clenched your inner walls around his cock, and he hissed out your name.

It felt like an eternity with his cock buried balls deep within you, your mouth trying to please Natsuo’s fingers while you resisted the urge to move. 

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you now,” Natsuo muttered and you felt an incredible wave of joy shoot through you, you wanted him to fuck you until your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, drool pouring from your mouth, and his name the only word you could utter.

Suddenly you were on your back, and Natsuo’s cock was no longer in you, nor were his fingers. You shuffled onto your elbows, but Natsuo’s hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and tore it over your head. Your chest rose and fell with your approaching excitement, and Natsuo’s eyes took in the lace teddy that you wore. It blended in with your skin with such refinement that you took in pride at the way his fingers trailed against the fabric.

“Like what you see, daddy?” you ask in almost a whisper, and Natsuo’s snap up to look into your hooded ones.

“You’re so beautiful, baby girl. So perfect,” he agrees, his fingers dragging upwards, moving against your sensitive breasts, making your body arch up into his touch. The stimulation of his cold fingers against your nipples in such thin clothing, along with those sweet affirming words, sent sparks of electricity throughout your body. 

His fingers hooked under the straps of the teddy, and soon it was pulled off your body, joining the t-shirt somewhere in the room. It’s removal left you with nothing but the thigh highs, and by the looks of it, he liked that.

You couldn’t find words to tease him with because his finger trailed against your inner thigh, and you trembled at his touch. 

Natsuo smirked down at you, placing a soft kiss against your cheek before continuing to kiss along your jawline, to your neck, and then down your sternum. “Tell me, baby girl, what do you want?” Between every word, he trailed further down until his mouth was nibbling at the skin between your thighs, ignoring where you wanted and needed him most.

“I want you to fuck me,” you panted when Natsuo pinched one of your nipples, rolling the hardened skin as his teeth bit against your thighs, making your chest arch up into his touch, and made your legs tremble. Your pussy clenched desperately at his ministrations, your aching clit begging to be touched. 

“Do you deserve to cum?” Natsuo pulled away from your thigh with a pop. His fingers trailed back down your stomach, grazing your labia, chuckling at the way your hips twitched against him. 

Natsuo slipped two fingers into your cunt, keeping them still inside you as he maintained eye contact. He watched as you writhed beneath him, your hips snapping to relax against the fullness his fingers gave you. Slowly your movements began to feel good; your actions, to feel good, soon became a desperate attempt fuck yourself against his fingers. Slowly Natsuo began to thrust them in and out of your aching core ignoring your throbbing clit that you couldn’t muster the energy to touch. 

“Please, daddy,” your hands found themselves holding onto his forearm, fiercely trying to get him to do more with his fingers. “Fuck me good.”

Growling lowly, Natsuo arched his two fingers towards puffy inner walls, pressing down against it, and he watched your face contort in pleasure as a low whine left your lips. Natsuo grinned when he saw the way your eyes clenched closed, musical moans pouring from your lips when his fingertips brushed against your g-spot. Your jaw dropped, your hips taking over his finger fucking so that you were fucking yourself on his fingers. The clenching of your walls grew more and more, your toes curling with the impending orgasm approaching you, the build-up overwhelming. 

“So needy, baby girl,” Natsuo suddenly removed his fingers from your heat, your whines and desperate cries ignored while you bucked your hips up towards him, desperate for a release. You watched as Natsuo examined your slick essence on his fingers before looking at you. “Suck it off the baby girl,” he said, putting his fingers between your mouth, and without a second thought, your mind is broken from the denied orgasm you opened your mouth and sucked your sweet essence from them as you writhed beneath him. The taste of yourself on your tongue drove you almost insane; you liked the taste intermingled with the taste of him. What would you have to do to get a taste of his cum with yours? “You’re not allowed to cum until I say you can, baby girl.” 

Your mouth loosed against his fingers, and you whined at his instruction. Natsuo only shoved his fingers further down your throat and roughly fisted his cock, using his hand to glide it along your slit, gathering your juices along the tip with a low groan. He pressed the head inside your tight cunt, watching as your body reacted to the sensation. Your hips pushing forward, trying to get him to go deeper. Natsuo chuckled while he rubbed his cock along your slit again, teasing you, not giving you what you craved most. 

“Tell me what you want me to do, baby girl,” Natuso mockingly asked, knowing exactly what you wanted. His fingers removed from your mouth, and you gasped with the needed breath, and when you were ready, you spoke. 

“Fuck me, daddy, I need you to—” Natsuo’s fingers pressed against your clit, making you shrill in pleasure. 

“Such naughty words,” Natsuo ran his fingertip over your clit, smirking when your tongue came out in a pathetic pant, trying to control your desperate and needy breathing. The action made Natsuo groan, immediately imagining how that would feel on other parts of his body. His restraint wavering when he pulled back, steadying himself between your legs before he slammed into your aching pussy without warning. The sensation of feeling completely full after being denied sent you soaring towards your release. 

“Such a good girl,” Natsuo pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, thrusting into your pussy as he watched your mouth fall open in pleasure. A constant slew of gibberish leaving your lips as you became lightheaded from the desire, and your arms wrapped around his shoulders to bring him closer. Natsuo’s cock fit inside you perfectly, the prominent veins on his length brushing against your inner walls were now moving, no longer stagnant, and only added to your pleasure. The tight feeling in the core of your stomach began to overwhelm you, the tip of his cock consistently pounding against your sweet spot, your climax threatening to wash over you. “Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are? These thigh highs are fucking driving me crazy… so pretty, so beautiful against your skin. It’s like you dressed this way on purpose, trying to get me to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.

You whimpered while you shifted your arms around Natsuo’s neck, pulling his body flush against your own as he continued to rut into your tight heat. The angle at which his snapping hips were drilling into you had his pelvis rub against your clit, your legs tightening around his hips as his cock rubbed against your inner walls. You cried out his name, your clit throbbing at the sensation, your body stiffening as he moved faster.

“Who do you think you’re addressing?” Before you could attempt to respond, Natsuo’s right-hand leaves your hip and slams to your throat, choking the response from you. “I want to hear you correct your answer.”

His hand remains heavy and tight around your throat, his hold barely allowing oxygen to travel through to your lungs. Your vision fuzzed, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, but your core shook with Natsuo’s now reciprocating and rhythmic slams.

“Y-You are, daddy,” you moan loudly, your thighs trembling with the feeling of his fingers around your throat.

Choking and clit stimulation with his cock pounding into your cervix, Natsuo chuckled into your skin. His thrusting hips were becoming more precise, angling into you in a way that made you audibly choke when you needed to gasp. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to your body that was making you delirious, or perhaps it was the fact that he was slamming into you with the strength of rearranging your guts, but your hips began to swivel at an inhumane pace. Your cunt held a vice grip around his cock, yet it did nothing to slow Natsuo down, but the growing heated pit in your lower belly was making your legs tremble against his. Still, you tried to keep up with his rough and cruel pace, and Natsuo enjoyed knowing that detail.

“You’re fucking beautiful, baby girl. Your pretty little pussy is so fucking tight, I bet you’ve been saving yourself for me? Such a good girl, taking my cock like this, you’re fucking amazing.” He praises, his teeth biting down against your bottom lip. Your breathless moans slipping past your lips. “You enjoy being choked, baby girl?”

Your head nods, “Y-Yes, daddy!”

“Do you need to cum? Maybe I’ll allow it, your pussy has been so good.”

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision. His teeth sunk far into your skin, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moving in cold strokes to calm your now throbbing skin. Then there were his nimble left fingers running against your clit and pressed delicate circles in time with his hammering and throbbing cock. But your swiveling hips held no value anymore, Natsuo’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you. The only thing you could tell was that along with the tip of his cock hitting your bruising walls, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips frantically rang in your ears.

Your bodies moved together entirely, his thrusts pushing you back further into the bed as he followed your movements. The bed frame hitting the wall with every harsh thrust, and your mattress springs creaking heavy in your ears. The noise of the headboard slamming against the wall was almost as loud as your moans of pleasure as your fingernails ripped into Natsuo’s shoulders, calling out his name in a mantra. 

“I need to cum, daddy. P-please, let me cum—” Natsuo could feel your body shaking underneath him as your orgasm was so close after being built up and denied. 

“Cum for me, y/n.” Natsuo groaned as your inner walls clenched around his length at his vulgar words, “cum all over my cock.”

Your eyes clamped closed, almost in synch. Your head nods, the heated pressure in your belly scorching. Your walls clamp down against his hammering cock, but it doesn’t slow him down, only encouraging him to increase his speed and strength until the bed shuddered against your weight. The sopping noises of your meeting sex filled your ears, and you moaned loudly, your teeth biting down onto your lip.

It takes his cock brushing against your g-spot for your legs to slam outwards, your arms nearly succeeding in choking Natsuo as you try sitting up as your orgasm slams through you.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scream hoarsely. Your scream only increases in great thrill when you feel Natsuo’s cock twitching unrestrainedly within you. But Natsuo ignores his own near, his hips continuing to drill into you, his hand clamping tighter against your neck, cutting off your voice. 

Natsuo isn’t done yet, not yet.

His hands move to grip the exposed back of your thighs, his grip bruising your supple skin. He slams into you faster, his cock continuing unaffected by your convulsing walls. There are no other noises except your wet cunt meeting his cock, your muffled shrieks of approval, and Natsuo’s heavy breathing as he continues to drive into you. Your convulsing walls body only making Natsuo stammer and curse loudly.

His lips find yours, and there is nothing to say, the kiss is messy, saliva coating your lips like lipstick. Spit filled kisses were exchanged between the two of you without care, while he chases his orgasm. His intense pace continues, your name growled from your throat, until one last thrust and one final clamp from your cunt sends him over.

Natsuo soon collapsed on top of you, his typically colder body burning with an almost feverish heat while his fingers traced against the frill of your thigh highs.

“That was something,” you mumble into his ear, and Natsuo snorts softly, his head nodding in agreement.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispered, pushing off your body; his eyes examined your raw body.

“Nah,” you disagreed with a smile, your fingers brushing through the bangs of his hair. “If you did, I liked it.”

“Masochist,” he teased, his lips pressing against yours in a soft and tender kiss. 

“I just might be, and if I am?”

“Then I think we’ll get along just fine, baby girl.”

“Okay, daddy.”

Soulmates weren’t perfect; you knew that more than anyone! But, while you lay there with his head against your chest. Hours after the two of you had cleaned up and gone for a few more rounds, you realized that this was what you wanted. You and your soulmate. That’s all that mattered when you were together, and things worked out.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Unforgettable pt. 4

HI FAM 

WOWOWOW SORRY THAT THIS UPDATE IS SO LATE I HAD A HARD TIME BRINGING THIS OUT IN THE WAY I WANTED.

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

Warnings: language, a hint of angst

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

The night you returned from your secret adventure was filled with confusing emotions. Why did talking to that covered stranger, whom you now know as Dabi, come so naturally? Why was it so easy, despite the fact that he’s a villain? And why, God why did touching pinkies send a jolt through your body leaving you unable to forget what that felt like.

You wish you could forget how that felt but you can’t. Not because of your quirk, but because it made you feel safe, made you feel differently than with your interactions with anyone else. Including Hawks.

But then a new feeling was emerging. It wasn’t just a sense of freedom; it was a form of vindication. You did something without the hero commission or Hawks knowing and the emotion was indescribable. Maybe this was your way out, your means of escaping the overprotective clutches of the hero commission. Who cares that they adopted and took you in off the street? The pros and cons of this are relatively even so the thought of escape finally feels within reach. Not just for you, but for Keigo as well.

You and Dabi had continued to meet up once, sometimes twice a week at the same spot on the same bench. You two never disclosed too much information about your work lives but gave enough information that was allowable. Dabi would talk of successful missions and failed trysts, always going off about an unmentionable master plan and a newbie that was bothering him. You would talk of stressors, your eventual dreams, and sometimes you’d sprinkle in bits of your past.

It was weird how Dabi was so interested in knowing more about your childhood friends and your relationship with them. You didn’t mind though, because finally you were able to talk about these things with someone who didn’t experience it or try to put a cap or limit on your feelings. You truly began to confide in him.

So much so, that 5 weeks into your meetings you had allowed him to walk you home. He would drop you off a couple of blocks away, just in case anyone was nearby. Over the weeks, little bouts of affection between the two of you began to grow. Lengthened hugs, prolonged handshakes, lingering touches… Sometimes it reminded you of the closeness you have with Hawks, but something about these flittering touches seemed more intimate, more special.

You tried your best to calm the rush of emotions you would feel around him, chalking it up to be the feeling of harboring a secret and not getting caught. Yeah, that’s it. Tonight was one of your usual trips to the neighborhood grocery store that was sanctioned by the commission. They told you going out at night was better because less distractions and less of a chance to run into trouble that could lead to a potential overload. Bullshit, just what the hell were they really scared of?

As you’re walking back, noting the coolness in the air as you tug your scarf closer to you lips, you walk pass your secret meeting point. A hidden smirk comes to your face as you think of the number of times Dabi has met and left you at that spot.

That’s why it was weird for you to see someone in that exact spot right now.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you secure your bags closer to yourself. The overhead light is faded which makes it harder to see who is actually there. Your gut tells you to run and leave the person be, but a whisper changes your mind.

“(Y/n)…”

You gasp, almost dropping your bags as you approach the shadow.

“Dabi?”

Sneaking him into your apartment had your adrenaline pumping. You were bringing someone who wasn’t a hero into your home! A home secured by the hero commission and watched like a hawk. You trod along carefully, being aware of the blood coming from his stomach and legs and trying not to have any fall on the carpet. If anyone saw the bloodstains leading up to your door, they’d know something was up. Even now, his face is covered almost as if he was planning on coming to see you. Sure you two had talked about it, but even you knew how risky that was.

You hear him hiss beside you as you close the door to your apartment. You pull him closer to you as you take off his and your shoes. Once that’s done, you hurry him to the bathroom and sit him on the closed toilet.

“Okay, let me get a good look at you.”

Once you take him in, it takes all you have to not cry out. Despite the knowing charred skin, there’s blood coming from the middle of his shirt and some from his leg. Your eyes reach his face and you see there’s traces of blood as well. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you mutter. You try you best to avoid his gaze but that doesn’t matter because his eyes are everywhere except yours.

“With pity. Like you’re sad for me.”

You reach for the first aid kit from your medicine cabinet and grab a towel. “But I am sad Dabi. Careful this may sting a bit.”

“That’ll be nothing. I’m used to pain.”

He notices you flinch when he says his truth. Since most of his body is burned and not compatible with his quirk, a little sting from alcohol won’t hurt him. He also takes note of the care you give him, not even wincing upon seeing his leg. You keep working up his body and you shyly ask him to take off his shirt so she can attend to the wound there.

His rough and warm calloused hand stops you. “Don’t.”

“Dabi, I have to in order to treat the wound. Please, just let me.”

His grip loosens and he mumbles out, “just don’t regret seeing me.”

You sigh deeply and start to remove his bloody and tattered shirt. Once it’s over his black locks, you can’t help the tiny squeak that leaves your lips. Scarred, charred, and stapled skin greets you. It’s gruesome, it’s painful, but it’s mostly saddening. To know that he deals with this every day hurts you more than you thought it would.

You begin to dab at the wound to help it heal and stop bleeding. It’s not lost on you that despite his scars, his physique is immaculate. Toned skin meets burned skin and the contrast in shades surprises you. You don’t feel your breath quicken as you finish working his stomach wound.

Your eyes finally meet his and you push yourself up to your knees. “Let me see your face.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not gonna let you drag and spill blood all over my apartment. Let. Me. See.”

“Little mouse, be careful. You don’t want to get on my bad side right now. I’ve had a fucking night.”

“So let me help you! Please.”

His sapphire eyes darken at your pleading words and then soften. It was bound to happen eventually, maybe he’ll have to kill her now, regardless of how he feels or thinks he feels. His shoulders droop in defeat and you take that as an invitation. You come closer to him, slowly taking off the glasses obscuring his eyes. You’re immediately taken back by how beautiful his eyes are. They seem familiar, but everything feels familiar with him so you let it go.

Next, your hands graze his ear which you feel is slightly burned and covered in piercings. Slowly you unhook the strap around the back of his ear and do the same to his other ear. Dabi is now completely exposed to you. The scars and staples match the rest of his body, but they don’t take away from how handsome he actually is. Your hand naturally goes to his cheek to feel it underneath your fingertips. It’s rough but velvety, a comforting and very him touch.

You feel his hand grab the one on his cheek and you fear he wants to pull it away. However, he does the opposite and pushes it closer to his face, almost like he’s melting into your touch. He looks calm, relieved even. His eyes had shut naturally at your touch, nostalgia running rampant as the feel of your hand on his is something he thought he’d never feel again. He sighs lightly, not realizing how long he had been holding his breath.

This act is so intimate, but the two of you barely even recognize it as such. You raise your other hand with the towel to wipe away the blood spots that taint his unmarred skin. He let’s you continue to clean him off as the sound of the light buzzing and the bathroom fan become the soundtrack for the evening. Once you finish wiping his face, he grabs your other hand which makes you drop the blood clad towel. Dabi pulls you in closer, now your lips merely inches apart. His eyes drop to your lips as they part ever so slightly and then back up to your eyes.

“Dabi I-“

He silences you by firmly placing his lips on yours. The kiss starts out curiously slow, as you two take time to take in the feel of each others lips. Unlike him, he waits for you to feel comfortable before pressing deeper into your lips. His tongue invades your mouth and you welcome it, causing Dabi to moan slightly at the feeling. You pull back, perturbed by the noise and your eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry, did I do something weird?”

He chuckles and brings your forehead to his. “Doll,” he pauses to find his words but comes up empty, “shut up.” He pulls you in again, this time with conviction. Your confidence soars as you start to roam your hands all over his body. You can tell he wants you to stop touching his scars but you keep on anyways, giving them tender touches. How long had it been since someone, more like you, had touched him in such a loving and caring manner?

Even when he was first getting burned from his quirk, you had been there when the both of you were younger. You had offered healing solutions and open arms when it seemed no one had cared. So part of him hoped that you would recognize a tid bit of the feelings he wants you to feel, to experience within this kiss. He wants to press on more into the kiss but he knows better. He always does.

So he pulls away.

“Why,” you pant, “why did you stop?”

Dabi bites at his burned lip with lust blown eyes. “Wouldn’t this be better not in a bathroom?” You become flustered at that and remove yourself from the man in front of you. He stands up with you and you want to aid him because of his wounds. “It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it might.” You two walk out of the bathroom into the partially lit hallway. He stops your progress by pressing you into the wall. He growls out, “c’mere.”

The wall behind you supported you as he stole your breath. You never thought you could feel this way with someone again. Not to say that you haven’t, but relationships never progressed this far. However, as you briefly break for air, you think about the only other person who has ever given your heart butterflies without you realizing it.

“Hey kid, I had some time to sneak away and-“

Your heart rate shot up at the unexpected intruder. Anxiety began to swell as you took in the scene before you. Hawks was here in your apartment watching you make out with a villain he may or may not know. “Ke- ah Hawks! What, uh, are you doing here?” You barely register Dabi glaring at your longtime friend as your thoughts race a mile a minute.

Hawks is completely unsure of what the fuck he’s seeing. Why was he pressed up against you? Why was he here? How did you actually meet this burnt guy? “(Y/n), what’s going on? Do you, do you know him?”

You understand what he meant but you couldn’t meet his intense stare. Your avoidance answered his own question and he relaxes his shoulders. He had to keep his cool and pretend that he is completely unaware that a grade A villain was making out with his best friend. His stomach dropped at that realization, which confused him greatly.

He continued to stare at Dabi who had the most sinister grin. The temptation to hurt him was immense but he held back. His golden eyes didn’t miss your blown out eyes and pouty lips. You really wanted Dabi? What was wrong with him? He knows he’s been gone for over a month but…

There’s that feeling in his stomach again.

Dabi breaks the silence in the cramped hallway. “You gonna turn me in hero? Gonna arrest me for messing with someone who’s precious to the hero commission?”

Keigo whips out his sword-like wings and aims it for his neck, recreating a scene they’ve done before. “Watch yourself. What are you doing here?”

“Clearly I was invited. Why are you here?”

Hawks steps closer. “I’ll be asking the questions,” he seethes. “Just how the hell do you know (Y/n)?”

“Hawks, please.”

“I met her in that park you had been scoping out for weeks for her.” He oozes confidence in a sly way as he presses the tip of the wing into his own neck. “If you take me here, they’re gonna know you two broke the rules. And from what she’s told me she’s on a tight leash.

“Wouldn’t want her to be put in a tighter cage now would we?”

Your eyes finally meet Keigo’s and realization settles in. He lowers his weapon and his gaze on yours softens. Shit, how did things get so fucked in the weirdest way? “Dove, did you really meet him there? And you know that he’s-“

“A villain,” you finish for him. “Yes I know. I didn’t plan on talking to anyone, but he was anonymous to me at the time. It felt nice having someone to talk to.” You subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself and sink into yourself. Keigo cautiously approaches you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

He sighs and then speaks, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to contact you and I wanted to check in on you. Guess I didn’t need to.” He steps away from you and you quickly felt colder.

“Hawks…”

“I’ll always be second won’t I?” He had meant to keep that to himself but the rhetorical question escaped his lips in a low whisper. You heard some of it and that made you heart lurch. Your heart had been going through a roller coaster the entire night.

Hawks then makes eye contact with Dabi. “Hey, can I talk to you? Alone.”

Dabi looks over to you and you nod at him and motion for the two of them to go out to your balcony. You walk back to your room and attempt to get a control on what was going on in your heart. How long had it been since you’ve had your heart torn and tugged in different directions? Ever since Dabi came in the picture and Keigo had gone undercover, your emotions had been a big jumbled mess and now it’s gotten more tangled.

The two men stand adjacent to the window, so only Hawks could potentially be seen from the outside. Hawks starts out first, “So this is who and where you’ve been running off to.”

Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Listen here bird brain, I still don’t like you or trust you. But (Y/n), she’s someone special to you isn’t she?”

“She’s my best friend since we were young,” he retorts.

“Hmm,” the ravenette ponders. “And how long have you been in love with her?”

That causes the blond to hesitate slightly at his response. Anger had dissipated from his being with just one question. “And how long have you had feelings for her huh?”

“You’re avoiding the question, hero. And what’s it to you? So what if I have feelings for her?”

Hawks chuckles darkly, “Shiggy isn’t gonna like that you know.” He stops to finally collect his own thoughts and how to handle this brand new information. “Look, I won’t tell anyone. Hero or villain, this stays between us.” The urge to cry hits him hard and he swallows it down as he always does whenever it comes to matters of his heart, especially regarding you. “And you better not hurt her.”

You had reentered the room to catch the last sentence Keigo says before meeting your eyes. He can tell that you heard what he had just said and slaps on a camera ready smile. You already know that those are fake, but you can’t imagine why he would fake a smile to you until you see his beautiful golden irises that shine like the sun.

They’re dull, somber, lacking the luster they usually have. And that makes your stomach do backflips. He flies out your window and into the cool night. Dabi comes up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist.

“Is he always this protective of you?”

You turn to face him and you glance up into his captivating eyes. This is a comfortable and welcoming place to be. But if Keigo made your stomach do backflips. Dabi’s made yours do frontflips.

And you weren’t sure which feeling was better or worse.

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

Taglist: @cupcake-rogue @shinsouskitten @luluwiie @kacchaneatsass @abonshit @kiribaku-queen

[notebook-13]

BNHA History

Alright! I decided to assemble what we’ve been told about how society has changed since the advent of quirks. So here’s a rough timeline + my speculation.

Distant Past

≈200 years ago

The birth of a glowing baby signaled the beginning of superpowers. Considering the tremendous chaos that followed, I think it’s likely that the onset was fairly rapid—the glowing baby was the first of a lot of people all at once born with superpowers (or, it was the first baby born with a noticeable superpower). Crime skyrocketed, the law became meaningless, humanity came apart at the seams.

Why there was such an explosion of crime and chaos hasn’t been directly addressed; presumably it’s because early metas were violently shunned as nonhuman, and because new powers entailed the opportunity to use them.

Under these conditions, All for One rose to prominence. He used his meta power to win slavish loyalty, granting powers to those who desired them and removing them from metas who rejected them. His manipulation of his devotees was so great that he didn’t need to give them orders: they anticipated his will and acted on it. He didn’t tolerate dissent and crushed those who defied him. (ch193)

AfO’s period of de facto rule is not included in history books (he persists as a myth), so it’s unlikely that he occupied an official, publicly recognized position. But his rule apparently stretches from approximately the advent of quirks till the battle of Kamino Ward. (ch59)

However, AfO’s younger brother opposed him. AfO punished him by forcing on him a “useless” power-stocking ability. This power fused with the brother’s latent ability to transfer his ability, and the brother was able to pass it on. Over the next two centuries, the OfA holders continued to pass it on, largely to whoever happened to be nearby when they were dying instead of to selected proteges. (ch59, 257)

Relatively soon after the advent of superpowers, the police foreswore using them as weapons in order to keep the trust of the public. Vigilantes emerged to fulfill this role, attempting to mete out justice, and at some point the government authorized certain people (heroes) to use their powers offensively to enforce the law. Heroes were heavily criticized at first, but they eventually developed public support thanks to their strict adherence to the law (according to police chief Tsuragamae). (ch56)

According to the bnha spinoff Vigilantes, the government classified vigilantes into heroes or villains based on public opinion of them. (ch13)

MLA Era

How long ago was the Meta Liberation Army active?

Ch232: Redestro weakly implies that Destro was born before the beginning of heroes as a profession. This early date would also coincide with writing legislation to authorize heroes to use their powers to apprehend any other meta who used their ability.

Ch238: the MLA was in hiding for generations, plural.

Ch223: Redestro states the MLA has trained for “many generations”

So…somewhere between seventy years ago and more than a hundred years ago?

Regardless of the exact dates, Destro was born into a borderline period when there was intense prejudice against metas and official effort to coexist peacefully. When his mother defended him by claiming his power was a mere “quirk,” she was killed by a mob.

Sometime later, when the government drafted legislation to (supposedly?) promote peaceful coexistence, they recalled her idea of “quirk” and tried to use it as part of their reform. Destro, now an adult, opposed this and their reform, asserting that this was not the world his mother envisioned when she’d said “quirk.” (ch232)

He rallied metas to his cause, to bar any restriction of meta ability use, and the MLA fought the government for several years before defeat. It dissolved, many of its members in jail, including Destro himself. He penned his autobiography and then killed himself. (ch218)

Post-MLA, Pre-Symbol of Peace

Unknown number of years ago

Villain: “Seems like no one’s willing to break the law nowadays. All this whining about not selling out their friends. It’s a real pain. […] Man, I miss the days before All Might came along… I was young, and this country was a way more impulsive place.” (ch57)

Yagi: “I believed that this country needed a symbol so I started dashing headlong towards that goal. A shining light…hope. A wake-up call for everyone. As I ran, I swore I’d become that sort of man. People always had these worried looks. All the heroes in the world couldn’t slow the rising crime rates. Much more than now…they were truly scared.” (ch165)

This was an apparently cutthroat, impulsive period where efforts to curb chaos continued but found limited success. Crime was on the rise, something Yagi attributed to the idea that there wasn’t anyone (a “pillar”) for people to rely on. (ch93)

≈70 years ago

When Ujiko proposed his “paranormal singularity theory,” he was roundly rejected and mocked. Due to his own struggles with housing multiple quirks, AfO recognized how prescient Ujiko’s warning was, and he reached out to recruit Ujiko. (ch270)

(Note: Ujiko’s use of “paranormal” could mean he proposed his theory before “quirk” became the standard term, meaning “quirk” could be a rather recent change of language.)

≈35 years ago

AfO killed Nana. All Might was eighteen; he subsequently went to America to complete his training.

Symbol of Peace Era

≈30 years ago – Battle of Kamino Ward

Deku: “Ever since he appeared on the hero scene, his strength has won him undisputed popularity. Every year that he’s been active has seen a marked decrease in the appearance rate of villains. His existence alone is a deterrent to villainy.” (ch2)

Gran Torino: “[Stain’s] ideals and opinions…they’re gonna get out there. On the net. In papers and magazines. On TV. This age we live in, for better or worse, is one of suppression. But mark my words—people are gonna be influenced by this.” (ch57)

Shigaraki: “It’s not crazy to imagine that someone could commit an atrocity at any given moment. So why do they smile and mingle like this? Because the laws and rules are built on their individual morality, they’re convinced that ‘No one would ever do that.’” (ch69)

Shigaraki: “The reason these fools can smile and live their lives is cuz All Might’s always got that grin on his face. Smiling wide, as if to say there’s no one he can’t save!!” (ch69)

Deku: “All Might. Was there ever a time you really couldn’t save someone…?” Yagi: “…? … Sure. Plenty of times. Right now, somewhere out in the world, someone could be hurting or dying. It sucks, but I’m only human. I can’t save people who are out of my reach… That’s why I stand tall and smile. I’m the Symbol of Justice. The citizens…heroes…villains…I need to light the way for all of them.” (ch70)

Kid: “Nowadays people expect different things from heroes than they used to. It’s all about the entertainment factor and approval ratings.” (ch144)

Shigaraki: “You heroes pretend to be society’s guardians. For generations, you pretended not to see those you couldn’t protect and swept their pain under the rug. It’s tainted everything you’ve built. That means your system’s all rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all builds up, little by little, over time. You’ve got the common trash, all too dependent on being protected. And the brave guardians who created the trash that need coddling. […] I don’t care if you don’t understand. That’s what makes us heroes and villains.” (ch281)

After about two centuries of chaos, Japan achieved stability after All Might established himself as the Symbol of Peace. All Might was specifically noted to have demolished most organized crime, so that villain teams were relatively rare (ch83, 115, 125). As Shigaraki put it, now people could go about their lives confident of their safety because All Might convinced them that everything will be alright, a hero will take care of them. This was true to the extent that people would flock to the sites of hero/villain battles to take photos and videos.

Whereas, as Twice put it, if you were on the wrong side of the law, then All Might’s catchphrase “I’m here” was a curse, something to fear and loathe. Gran Torino characterized this era as an age of suppression, as in, the symptoms were suppressed, producing superficial stability, but the underlying conditions hadn’t changed.

During this period, the industry of heroism shifted to over-emphasize heroism as public entertainment, rewarding attention-grabbing stunts and PR skills over humbler virtues.

This shift inspired Stain the Hero Killer to enact a purge of unworthy heroes in order to revive true heroism. He deeply impressed society, and, despite his murders, he became a popular figure. His ideals provoked some people to question whether society’s heroes were “true heroes,” while others disregarded his ideals and simply found him cool.

During this era, 80% of the population had a quirk. Whether that statistic was stable or if it was an effect of demographics (ie, most quirkless people are elderly and almost all kids have quirks) hasn’t been specified.

This era could be separated into All Might’s Bronze, Silver, and Golden Ages, each with a different costume.

≈30 years ago

All Might debuted in Japan, and he kicked off an unprecedented era of stability.

5 years ago

All Might fought and “killed” AfO.

Age of Endeavor

Battle of Kamino Ward – Present (ch283)

HPSC: “All Might had it all…power with enough charm to win the people over. The gulf between him and the perennial runner-up was always huge… I doubt we’re gonna find someone that charismatic again anytime soon.”  Mera: While we’re waiting for the next All Might, hero squads with a focus on team unity are gonna have to fill the gap. This order from up high is meant to make some headway on that front… (ch111)

Miyagi (newscaster): “If we’re being honest, I think All Might just got too big for our own good. So big that we lost sight of things. […] As for us, we shouldn’t just passively protect the status quo. Isn’t it our duty to bring back a culture of excitement around heroes?” (ch115)

Kid: “We know what’s up. Mom and dad and the TV all ask the same thing. ‘Are the heroes doing okay?’ …We know. We’re better than them!” (ch165)

Hawks: “That guy earlier, screaming ‘Long live metahuman liberation’…this [rumors of nomu sightings] is kinda like that. They republished some old-school criminal’s autobiography, and it’s flying off the shelves. I’m thinking that’s influencing people. That stuff tends to sell best when society’s feeling unstable, right?” (ch186)

Gentle: “What counts as a spectacle is a question for the current generation. We shall go to the source [UA]—the source that enchants our society.” (ch171)

Newscaster (surveying the stampede of fleeing civilians during Endeavor’s nomu battle): “This is society without a Symbol of Peace!!”  Can’tcha See-kun: “Stop saying that crap already!! Open your eyes before spouting off on TV! Especially at a time like this! Look! Those flames’re still rising up! You see ’em, right?! Endeavor’s alive and fighting!! So don’t give up just cuz the other guy’s gone! There’s still a dude out there risking it all for us!! Can’tcha see?!” (ch189)

Kuraishisu (newscaster): “In the past, a situation like this [the destruction of Deika City], where heroes were forced to make a difficult call, would have earned those same heroes criticism, but I suspect we may be witnessing a critical turning point in this era. A large-scale shift in opinion from criticism to passionate support.”  Uraraka: “Feels like everything’s different ever since the ‘Can’tcha See kid’ did his thing.”  Ashido: “It’s all cuz Endeavor kicked butt!” Mt. Lady: “Y’think the future’s bright? Not so fast!! It might seem like the winds of good fortune are blowing our way, but if you stop and think about the flip side of all this…it’s actually coming from a sense of urgency—it’s a response to danger! These cheers for the conquering heroes are really prayers—a plea that we emerge victorious! They’ve had enough of the showbiz side of heroism and want us to prove our worth for real now!” (ch241)

Mineta: “Not too long ago, she didn’t give a crap about anything except being on camera…” Aizawa: “Mt. Lady’s not the only one who has changed. Every hero out there is being pulled up by the number one’s rising ride.” (ch241)

After All Might retired, uncertainty gripped Japan as people wondered what would happen now. A strong consensus agreed that Endeavor wasn’t suited to fill All Might’s boots, something reflected in how the crime rate went up 3% in the month after Kamino, and reflected in how people suddenly became interested in reading the MLA ideology of rejecting heroes and protecting themselves.

During Endeavor’s battle against the nomu, the press attributed the public’s frantic stampede—ignoring heroes trying to guide evacuation—to the public’s lack of trust in Endeavor (and heroes generally) now that All Might was gone. Public trust improved after the nomu battle, especially thanks to Can’tcha See-kun.

Within a month after the battle, expectations shifted. People had enough of showbiz heroism and wanted the heroes to walk the talk and protect the public against villains, to the extent that comfortable armchair criticism was replaced a passionate support driven by fear of villains.

Miscellaneous Questions

When did “hero” become a recognized profession?

When did the hero ranking system begin?

When did the celebrity culture around heroes develop?

When did “quirk” come into common use?

How old is Yagi? How long ago did he debut in Japan and begin the era of peace?

How old is AfO? How long after the advent of quirks did he come to power?

When did AfO recruit Machia?

When were the nomu invented?

When did humanity pass the point of quirk singularity? (ch193)

[rightsockjin]

Here’s Number 13 with Yoongi! I hope y'all like it! 

Summary: A road trip with your life long friend takes an unexpected turn for the best...

Rating: T (Teen- suggestive)

Genre: Fluff and like a hint of what could be smut...

Warnings: The ending... that’s it. Nothing triggering I think. Oh someone gets smacked in the ass. So there’s that... um... partial nudity. Underwear. ok yea.

Submit a request!

Prompt list

“Can you just get in the damn car?”

Yoongi wasn’t exactly a patient person.

From the day that you met him in middle school-

Well really you had met him sometime in Primary school but you had both at some point agreed that the story you would tell people when they asked when you two had met was that you met in middle school.

That being because well... you guys hated each other.

Kind of.

Yoongi hated you and you... well you didn’t take well to being hated.

That being said, when you guys did end up becoming friends, it was Yoongi who had proposed it after years of what he put as “rivalry”.

He’d asked you to share a Sunday with him and you guys spent the whole afternoon talking.

One thing led to another and from then on you were inseparable.

“But look at the sky,” you said, pointing at the stars as they had begun to ebb away with the moon.

It was slightly purple and pink and a little orange.

The sun was still too low to be seen but it was painting the sky prettily.

“We can look at the stars some other time. We’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes as a shiver went through your whole body.

It was your annual winter road trip and every year, without fail, you refused to bring a thick enough coat.

“Late to what? We don’t even have a destination dude.”

Maybe it was because you-

Pft.

You couldn’t even think of a good excuse for yourself anymore.

In all honesty-

Which is something you had started to do recently.

Honestly.

-you realized at some point on the last road trip that it was because you liked it much better when Yoongi groaned... then smiled... and gave you his.

“Late to the beginning.”

Ooooooookaaayyy?

Whatever what meant.

“Yoongi... are you sure that you got enough sleep?”

Yoongi shrugged.

“Probably. I slept from like three until six,” he said, as you ripped your eyes from the beautiful sky.

“That’s three hours,” you gaped through the rolled down window.

The car hummed softly. The warmth emanating from the engine transferred from the aura surrounding it into your bones.

But not your teeth.

They... were chattering something fierce.

“Yo-you’re fucking joking right?”

When he didn’t answer you made an ugly noise somewhere in the back of your throat and hit the roof of his-

1988 maroon thunderbird

(And don’t you forget it)

(...it’s his baby)

(It even has a name)

-car.

Yoongi’s hooded eyes shot wide open in surprise and what you knew to be anger because- well-

Let’s face it.

Yoongi has one facial expression and it’s usually somewhere between annoyed and indifferent.

He was the picture of a human grumpy cat with softer eyes.

Dark hair...

Soft...skin....

Where were you?

Oh yeah!

Yoongi glared at you. His nostrils flared.

“Did you just hit Jisu?”

His voice was even.

It wavered not.

And neither would you.

He was a big softy. Yoongi was all bark and no bite. Even his bark was reminiscent of a Chihuahua.

And not one of those feisty ones. More like one of the rat things that had no hair and barked under their breath when you tried to pet them.

...without teeth...

...with their tongue sticking out....

“Yoongi... it’s a car.”

“Y/N... it’s my pride and joy.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I’m not getting in your death trap when you haven't had a proper eight hours, Yoongles.”

“Listen, Squirt,” he began and waves upon waves of distaste rolled over your spine. Your skin pimpled as a blush rose to your cheeks.

You HATED when he called you...

*shiver*

*gag*

Squirt

“...and you know that I do NOT like when people hit her! She’s beat up enough as it is without having people like you smacking on her-“

SMACK

You’d hit the front hood a little harder than you would have regularly just to shut him up.

A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. His lips fell open like he couldn’t really be bothered to hold it closed.

His pink tongue poked out slightly over his teeth.

He clicked, then-

“Okay fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yep.”

...you-what?

“Yes what?”

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms behind the stealing wheel.

“The road trip is canceled.”

You gaped at him.

D:

Like that.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and turned the engine off.

Slowly, but resolutely, he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

“I-wha- Wait! Yoongi,” you ran around the front to where he stood.

He slammed the car door shut but he wasn’t angry. He patted the roof of the car affectionately, his back turned to you.

“...you can’t cancel-“

“Well you won’t get in the Jisu with me behind the wheel and you don’t know how to drive a fucking stick shift... what else is there to do?”

He was teasing you.

There was no way that he would cancel.

It was tradition after all.

And he would NEVER break tradition.

Well ok-

Yoongi wasn’t usually traditional.

Unless it came to you and your friendship.

He’s violently loyal to the point that one time-

When some guy had asked you out, upon your confirmation, promptly spanked your ass in the middle of home room, he’d stood without hesitation and slapped the dude’s ass back.

He’d gotten detention for a month.

The other guy, a month and a slap to the ass.

There was also a time when a nasty rumor was going around the school that that same guy and you were in a very... presumptuous position and your reputation had been shot.

Most of your other friends had believed it but not Yoongi.

Yoongi went around shooting nasty looks at anyone who dared say a bad word about you.

That’s when things had changed.

In retrospect.

For you at least. You doubt anything had changed for Yoongi.

But for you... that summer... the one of your junior year... changed everything.

No one was talking to you anymore. Your girls were now-

The Bitches ™️

And the only friend you had was Yoongi.

Your yoongi.

He’d become that then.

Yours...

Even though it wasn’t your place to make him so.

But you couldn’t help it. He’d changed. He’s grown an inch.

He’d started to work out-

And then stopped at the request of his mother because his clothing wasn’t fitting him and honestly Yoongi’s family didn’t have enough money to buy new threads-

-and for some ungodly reason, his father had given him his car and his now favorite cowhide leather jacket.

Vintage.

Let’s get that straight people.

It is vintage. Not old.

It was something in the way he listened to you.

With gentle nods and sarcasm at the ready.

It was his fake laugh.

And his laughter...

And the beautiful mornings

The way his gums popped out when you were falling asleep after pulling an all nighter under the stars.

It was his essence.

“I-well... but the road trip is-“

“Over unless you miraculously acquired the ability to drive stick or...”

He paused, looking at you over his leather clad shoulder.

“You get in Jisu, settle the snacks and apologize.”

You huffed. Your breath is visible in the early morning sky.

“I...” it was like being gutted.

Like a fish.

A cold dead fish...

“Am sorry.”

Whew.

That was tough but now you didn’t have to worry about him being salty all the way to-

“Not to me,” Yoongi said, interrupting your thoughts.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Apologize to Jisu.”

“The car?” You said under your breath.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, a smug gum smile in place, “the car.”

You deflated.

He wasn’t kidding.

That was the worst part.

He genuinely wanted you to apologize to…

Jisu

The car.

With embarrassment filling your empty stomach-

Well save for your heart which was digesting nicely!

-you sighed and said:

“Jisu... sweet... old... rundown-“

“Watch it,” Yoongi groaned.

“Fine! I’m sorry I hit you. It was rude of me. Will you ever forgive me and let me ride you?”

There was a pause in which you processed your own words.

You hadn’t meant to.

And really, if your mind wasn’t in the gutter it would have meant nothing but your Innuendo hung in the freezing air around you.

Damn were you good at saying stupid shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat and moved closer to you.

Your heart-

Now in a puddle.

-skipped a beat.

Your cheeks rouged.

He wasn’t touching you but you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. The warmth contrasted strangely with the coolness of the morning.

God... what you would give for his lips to touch you.

For his hands to graze your skin.

To wrap around your waist-

“WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT JISU DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY AND FEELS HARASSED!”

D:

You jumped a foot in the air.

Your arms flung around you in fear. Your elbow hit against something.

Pain shot through your arm.

You turned only to see Yoongi holding his shoulder-

The one someone had nearly run over a couple years ago and he’d had problems with since.

-and your panic soared.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Why did you fucking yell in my ear dumb ass!”

Regardless of your harsh words, you rushed over to his side as his face screwed up in pain.

Pain you caused.

Fuck.

But he was laughing.

He couldn’t be that badly hurt could he?

“If your next question is if I’ll let you ride me the answer is a hard yes.”

Humiliation and anger rushed through your veins and into your fingertips.

Of their own accord, they began to smack every part of him they could reach.

“HEY! Why does Jisu get a better apology than me?!”

“Because Jisu is a girl and not an ass!”

It was in the way you always got the same taco from the corner stores and also rolled your eyes when he mentioned your addiction to strong coffee.

It was the way you snorted lightly-

And sometimes not so lightly.

-as he drove into the day.

It was the way you were drooling in that exact moment as the sun hit your pretty face and the seat was pulled back as far as it could possibly go.

Or maybe it was none of those things.

Or all of them.

Yoongi had lost track if he was honest.

Of all the things that made him wish he could tell you how he felt.

That he loved the moles that covered your body.

The shine from your hair after it was freshly dried.

He loved your musky perfume and the lotions you’d purchased in bulk because:

“If I like it might as well buy 12 of them.”

He loved your logic and the lack thereof.

He loved your style.

The way you refused to “ruin” an outfit with a jacket if it didn’t match and how- without fail- you always wore whatever jacket he handed you completely disregarding what you always said.

Like the one that he had lain over your trembling body as you slept when he’d stopped to use the restroom.

It was his dad’s.

It was old-

Vintage as you liked to say.

(Or bugged him by saying any time he tried to say it was old.)

It was riddled with discoloration.

It was his most prized possession.

Right after his car.

And you.

Though he’d never admit it.

And seeing you inside the car with his jacket draped over you like a blanket was doing things to him that he couldn’t comprehend.

It was like being enveloped in silk and velvet after a nice hot bath filled with lavender and rosewood and vanilla.

It was like soft musk caressing the folds of his brain, sending dopamine straight to the pleasure center of his cranium.

What he would give to touch you.

... in a less than platonic way.

The way your jaw stayed placidly open was also doing things to him.

This much less... soft

And a lot more

Well there’s no sugar coating.

Hard.

You stirred in your slumber.

His thoughts jarred to a stop.

You blinked then woke slowly. Confusion was evident in your eyes.

Quickly replaced by realization.

You looked down at the leather on your body.

The slightest smile pulled at your pretty lips.

You didn’t sit up.

You curled your small hands into the leather and snuggled against the softness.

“Morning,” you said, your voice slightly higher pitched.

A shiver ran through his nerves. His skin pimpled.

“You mean midday,” he corrected with a chastising roll of his eyes but the corners of his lips pulled up.

Fuck.

You.

...WAIT NO!

He shook his head, trying to keep his eyes forward and his mind on the road.

“Same difference,” you grumbled, pushing your arms through the sleeves of the jacket the wrong way.

Your short fingers stuck out at the edge.

A brief image of those same fingers pumping and wrapped around his-

“When’s lunch? I’m starving.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Well we ate maybe like four hours ago... “

“Exactly. I need food,” you said, righting your seat.

“We have snacks,” he said.

“But like... I want a burger.”

“Isn’t it too early for your road trip burger?”

Because every single road trip without fail, you both stopped at your favorite burger place and ate but it was only once in the whole road trip and you usually liked to save it for the road trip back to wherever you had come from for that year so you had something to look forward to.

“Mmmm, I’m feeling a shift in the matrix,” you said.

“Do you even know what the matrix is? Have you seen that movie?”

Offended, you turned to Yoongi.

He stayed facing the front.

“I LOVE Tom Cruise.”

“He’s not in that movie genius.”

You were silent for a second. Your eyes were wide.

“Hm... could have sworn....”

He smiled at the sun almost right above the car. There was not a cloud in the sky and he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

On the other hand he felt completely rejuvenated.

After a couple of miles, Yoongi let his smile settle and he cleared his throat as u set up your favorite road trip playlist.

You glance at him.

“You might wanna wipe the drool from your cheek by the way.”

“Fu-damn it Yoongi, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

It was raining.

Heavily.

Sadly, no men in sight aside from your long time friend.

Though...

Maybe not so sadly.

It had only been a couple more hours.

You had stopped for your burger.

And the sun was up and then-

BOOM

Thunderstorm.

Honestly, you were slightly worried.

Yoongi had been driving for a total of about ten hours that day and he’d been running on three hours of sleep.

You guys still had a couple more days of road trip to go.

Usually they lasted around three to four depending on how annoying you are being. And that’s counting the drive back home.

But at this rate... you guys might have to turn back early.

Now, you had no real clue where you guys were headed.

You never really did.

Yoongi never told you.

But it was cool.

Cool cool cool cool cool

Totally cool.

You trusted him and he had never led you astray.

Though... that one time when you guys got lost for nearly a week because he refused to check the GPS was kind of astray....

Anyway.

You never doubted he had good plans.

He’d taken you to amusement parks and landmarks and historical sights just for the hell of it.

He’d taken you wonderful places so you had never questioned him.

This time... you really, really wanted to know if a thunderstorm was even worth it.

You opened your mouth to ask but were instantly shushed.

Taken aback your eyes widened.

Again you tried to speak but one of Yoongi’s fingers came up to your lips to keep you silent.

“Look it’s coming down hard and I really cannot focus when you speak.”

You crossed your arms, his leather jacket rumpled slightly as it rubbed against itself after you had put it on correctly.

It smelled so much like him.

The leather smell permeated through your nostrils. But under it was something else. Something woody and fresh that was so... Yoongi, it made your head spin.

You frowned but settled in your seat with your mouth shut.

Soft lo-fi filled the air in the car.

You were no longer cold.

For obvious reasons which didn’t include the heating because it was broken in the car.

But you felt a shiver of fear run down your spine.

Yoongi’s black hoodie seemed darker now that the sky was cloudy.

It was pulled up to his elbows, his forearms out in the open-

As if that wasn’t illegal or some shit.

- and flexed slightly. His veins, prominent.

Another chill ran down your body.

This time... for a reason completely unrelated to your circumstances.

It was going to be a long drive.

The car broke.

Jisu broke.

It was about time it did too.

Though Yoongi was having a hard time.

Honestly... he was tearing up.

Or at least, you thought he was.

But he refused to look at you as the tow truck dropped you off at the nearest motel.

It was still raining ugly and you were still unbelievably cold.

Though maybe you were playing it up a little so that Yoongi would put up with you cuddling into his side.

It was partially for you but it was also for him.

He didn’t want to admit it but you knew.

You knew he needed something to ground him.

What better to do that with than with yourself?

“We’re here,” the driver said, squinting through the downpour.

“Thanks again for the lift,” you said since you knew Yoongi wouldn’t speak in fear of his voice breaking.

“Well you gotta pay darlin’” the driver said with a wink in your direction.

“But you’re welcome nonetheless. I can try to get you closer if you would like. Wouldn’t want you and your boyfriend getting a cold.”

A deep crimson blush filled the blood vessels in your cheeks and neck.

Your throat closed.

You coughed.

On instinct you pushed Yoongi away and made a disgusted face.

Yoongi’s nose twitched, his shoulders slumped.

“We- were not-“

“She’s single,” Yoongi said, his voice much stronger than you expected it to be.

“Friends,” he clarified.

Disappointment flooded your mind.

Friends. And that was that.

“I’m sorry but we only have one room available for the night,” the clerk said.

There was only one room?

“Does it at least have two beds?” Yoongi asked, giving you a worried look over his shoulder.

His hair was slicked to his head.

Waving slightly.

“I’m sorry sir,” the clerk said, “it’s a single queen bed. That’s really all we have.”

There’s only one bed????

What the fuck kind of fan fiction were you living in?

What are the damn odds?

Being friends since forever ago did not mean that you had shared a bed before.

There had always been a line that you didn’t-

Couldn’t

Wouldn’t

-cross.

This was by no means normal.

You glanced around the lobby trying to avoid looking at your friend.

“Well... okay. Shit. Yeah give me the room,” Yoongi said under his breath as if you, not hearing him, would make up for him taking the room.

He didn’t want you to think he’d planned this.

He hadn’t.

Why would he have?

How could he have?

He can’t control the fucking weather.

Regardless, as he got the key to the room he couldn’t help but feel sleazy.

He paid then thanked the clerk.

You were shivering.

Damn you and your insistence on not wearing a damn jacket.

His wasn’t enough.

You needed a shower. A warm one.

Your lips were nearly blue.

Without hesitation, he picked up his duffle and your rolling suitcase.

He casually walked up to you and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

The leather was wet.

And now ten times colder.

He led you to the hallways of rooms on the first floor.

It was the last room in the far corner.

Yoongi had thought of multiple scenarios in which you guys ended up in a room together but never had he thought it would be while you guys were “just friends”.

You shivered under the weight of his arm.

“Come on, Squirt. Let’s get you in dry clothes.”

There were two things you hated:

Being cold,

And

Yoongi calling you Squirt.

Yet, this time... you were grateful for the cold.

And for the nickname.

Was it-

*gasp*

Growing on you?

Yoongi opened the door and with it came the strong scent that inevitably came with hotels.

To you, it had always been kind of comforting.

Like family trips and new adventures.

Today though, it smelled very much like nerves and fear and something shifting in the air.

It felt like nothing was moving.

Even as you stepped into the room and onto the slightly too dark green carpet, it felt like the world around you both had stopped turning.

Yoongi’s arm fell from around you and you mourned the loss.

You listened rather than watched him bring the bags in.

It was somewhere between 60-70 degrees and the wetness of your hair was seeping into your scalp.

Still, you refused to take off the jacket that was growing heavier and heavier as the rain soak in.

“Hey Y/N, give me the jacket.”

You spun around as he set down the luggage. He held a hand out.

Suddenly, you really didn’t want to get rid of it.

It felt like your second skin.

“Uh... but I’m cold,” you argued.

“And if you stay in that jacket you’re going to catch a cold. Hand it over.”

He curled his fingers in a “come hither” motion.

Your throat went dry.

Then, as if under a spell, you pulled the slightly heavy leather off of you and handed it off.

Yoongi watched you remove the jacket in a trance-like state.

You were staring at his hand.

He felt the fabric fall into his palm but he wasn’t looking.

He was staring, mouth open at your shirt.

Your white, long sleeve, wet, shirt.

And you know.

We all know…

What happens when a white shirt gets wet.

And now, Yoongi had the full boob-

PROOF

(dude that doesn’t even sound the same)

He had the full proof.

He blinked owlishly, glued to the way the fabric stuck to your chest.

He could see the skin tone bra that you were wearing.

The lines of your stomach visible lightly.

All the blood rushed to one of two places.

You know which.

Don’t lie.

He pressed the cold jacket against his body so that it covered what was quickly growing.

You watched him curiously as his mouth shut with a click.

You followed his gaze as goosebumps covered your arms.

That’s when you saw it.

And embarrassment wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you felt.

You crossed your arms over your chest but you couldn’t turn away.

There was something else running through your veins aside from the humiliation.

Hope.

Because Yoongi wasn’t turning away and you weren’t stupid either.

You could see the strategic way that he was holding the slightly dripping jacket right in front of his…

Area…

And he had taken his eyes off your chest and now wasn’t even looking at you.

In a sudden burst of confidence-

And let's be honest, probably terrible judgement.

-you shimmied out of your shirt and balled it up.

Without letting yourself think of it too much before you chickened out, you tossed it right at his chest area.

Since it was wet, it made a wet-

PLOP

On his shoulder.

Confusion was clear on his expressionless face as he looked at the fabric.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes in question then did a double take.

You licked your lips nervously but tried to keep your nerves at bay.

This was normal.

You always hung out in your bra with your oldest friend.

Everyday things…

Pft.

Easy.

“Wh-what are you doing,” Yoongi asked, his voice wavering.

“The shirt was soaked through. I thought that I should get out of it as well.”

Then mustering all of your courage, you unbutton your jeans.

The pop of the button was unnaturally loud in your ears.

The zipper was deafening.

“W-wait! Y/N what the fuck?”

You looked up trying to keep your ‘this is totally normal’ look on your face.

“Getting out of my wet clothes. Isn’t that what you said for me to do?”

“I said to get out of my jacket,” he said harshly, using it to gesture at you half naked. Your fingers hooked on the waistband of your jeans.

“Well the logic follows, doesn’t it? Wet jacket,wet shirts, wet pants…”

You pushed them down your legs without looking at him.

“Off.”

You heard him hiss under his breath.

Fear gripped you as the cold air of the room hit your skin which was a little moist.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Yoongi began.

There was anger in his voice.

“But whatever it is. It’s not funny,” he finished throwing the jacket onto the floor.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked into the restroom.

Your heart sank.

D:

It was later in the night and you were huddled under the white blankets of the queen bed and Yoongi had yet to come out of the restroom.

You had thought you’d heard some low grunts coming from the restroom but then the shower had turned on and you heard nothing but the rain and the water.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, the grunts were very real.

Very much soft-

(in volume)

- for a reason.

And very much because of you.

It was when it was getting too intense that Yoongi decided to take a cold shower to calm down his hormones.

Still, he had decided to stay in the restroom for most of the night.

He was a night person anyway.

Always got his best thinking done when the moon was full and up.

This was no different.

He sat on the toilet seat, his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees.

He was in his underwear and the shirt he had worn all day.

He hadn’t gotten the courage to walk out.

Not with the humiliation of having beat one out

(well not completely just a little bit)

(not that he was...little…)

To you in a bathroom while you were partially naked in the next room.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Were you just so comfortable with him that you guys had crossed the friendship line to the point of no return?

Or were you attracted to him and that was some grand gesture?

Either way, he was terrified to guess wrong.

Why had he thought that this year would be different?

Why had he thought he could sweep you away on some romantic road trip in his crappy old car when he didn’t know the first thing about being romantic?

His idea of romantic was throwing a vintage-

Old.

let's call it how it is.

Old jacket on you when you were asleep.

It was spanking that asshole who had smacked your ass all those years ago.

And sticking by you when your other friends turned away from you.

It was branding them the Bitches and making sure that you knew that you hadn’t been at fault for the rumors.

Romantic Yoongi held your hand through your first year of collage and held your hair back the first time you drank too much.

It was him tucking you in when you guys spent all night out looking at the stars.

It was taking care of you when you were sick.

It was…

Throwing his prized jacket on you when you were cold…

And sacrificing his jacket so that the rain didn’t hit you directly even thought that might ruin it…

...

So he could see how you guys were confused.

Because isn’t that what friends did all the time?

Take care of each other?

And now, he had crossed a line he couldn’t get back from.

It was too late.

He’d missed his window-

If there was any window to begin with.

He’d missed it.

And maybe he just needed to be okay with that.

When you woke up, it was still super dark.

You half expected it to still be night but when you reached for your phone you realized that it was nearly noon and Yoongi hadn’t woken you.

You sat up, forgetting that you had slept in your underwear.

The sheets slipped from your top, the bra still on.

Suffice to say, your chest hurt.

Instinctively, you reached behind you to unclasp the bra but-

“Hey-hey-hey! Man in the room,” you heard from somewhere.

Your hands halted, still groggy, you blinked in the darkness.

“What man? All I hear is a grumpy Yoongi,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyelids.

A sigh.

A groan.

Then a lamp turned on before you.

The light hit your sensitive eyes. You blinked against the brightness and when you could finally comfortably open your eyes, your jaw dropped.

Yoongi-

Your Yoongi was sitting in the beige armchair.

His pale legs were spread wide.

His boxers-

He was wearing boxers…

!!!!

-were far too loose and hung on his thighs.

From your position, you could see his bulge though it was clearly not hard, or at least not entirely.

Still, the fabric was pulled over it.

His chest was covered with a white T-shirt.

His arms were on the arm rests.

Your mouth fell open.

Water…

God you needed water.

You looked around you but there was not a single glass in sight.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve realized, Squirt but I am very much a man.”

You avoided his eyes.

“I try not to think of you that way.” you mumbled, pulling the sheets up to your chest.

Lying through your teeth…

You know..

Like a liar.

There was a pause.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Last night you had no problem stripping in front of me.”

You froze.

What...what was happening here?

“You- you seemed less than happy about that if I recall correctly,” you said then when he said nothing you added, “and don’t call me Squirt.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

And ran a hand through his hair.

It stood on end.

Fuck.

Fuck….

He looked so hot.

“Only because you caught me off guard. Now,” he gestured between himself  and you, his fingers conveniently pointing towards…

“We’re even.”

Even?

Even?

“So if you were to take off something else, I’d have to as well. For fairness. Of course.”

You-

Did he-

D:

“We-Fair? Do- Do you hear yourself right now?”

You scrunch your nose.

You smelled something fishy.

Veerry...veeery fishy.

“Yes I speak korean, Y/N. The question is,” he stood, his boxers settling over his long legs, his shirt was tucked slightly into the elastic at his hips.

Where were you supposed to look?

The muscles on his arms.

His thighs, begging you to ride-

Or somewhere in the middle?

He had to know what he was doing to you.

He had to know that walking around in the loosest pair of boxers would draw your eyes straight to the center of his legs.

He wasn’t stupid.

So what angle was he playing?

(Acute ;])

“...Do you?”

He was by your side now. Your face was level with his stomach.

How does one react when your closest friend of your whole life is suddenly very close to naked in front of y-

…

Ohhhhhhhhhh....

“This is about me stripping yesterday...isn’t it?”

You held the covers up to your chest awkwardly.

Suddenly, you felt really stupid.

You shouldn’t have stripped without his consent.

You just really thought that...if you pushed a little, He’d see you as more than just “That girl that he hated in elementary school and is now stuck to him like gum.”

Did you just make that up?

Yeah.

Okay.

Moving on…

“What do you think,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles flexed under the white. Behind him, through the mirror, you could see his back side reflected.

Sculpted.

Fucking damn it.

If he was going to reject you couldn’t he have done it with pants on??

“I think…” but you couldn’t think. It was too much.

Too soon.

Too quickly.

You were on the edge of spilling the beans.

Teetering on a cliff and you couldn’t see the ground.

Was it ocean below?

You didn’t know.

You shook your head and forced yourself to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Yoongles… I’m sorry,” you said.

His smug smile fell.

A small frown pulled at his lips and his shoulders slumped.

Yoongi had made a choice. He’d decided he was going to push.

He’d decided it was time to tell you.

This coming after he got a call fairly early in the morning about the car needing a part that wasn’t available and they wouldn’t be handing him Jisu that day.

Meaning… you guys were stuck together for another day.

In a motel.

Alone.

With nothing to do.

This was why he’d decided to wait for you in his boxers.

You’d made the first move and now it was his turn.

He’d hoped you would reciprocate.

But he had clearly been wrong.

It wasn’t that you were trying to seduce him.

No…

You had simply grown too comfortable with each other and your state of half dress had nothing to do with hidden feelings for him.

Well, he supposed that at least he hadn’t declared his love for you like he’d planned to do initially…

...as much as  saying “Hey, I kind of wouldn’t mind going out with you”-

(this was a big deal because Yoongi avoided leaving his house at all costs… in all honesty, he hated road trips but you made it bearable and even a little fun)

- could be considered declaring his love for you.

He didn’t think he could handle the look of disgust on your cute face as he told you he had feelings for you.

Feelings…

What a joke.

Maybe this was for the best.

If you stayed friends, then it was probable that you guys would never stop talking to each other.

Another thing he couldn’t handle was losing you.

“It’s no fun if you just apologize, Squirt,” he said after a brief pause, choosing to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

You sighed.

He’d confirmed your worst fear.

He didn’t like you.

Not in the way you liked him.

And you’d made him uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to take it back and give you the wrong answer then? You know, for your pride?”

Yoongi sighed then chuckled.

“Would you? It would really make my day.”

You smiled up at your friend.

Like two pieces of a puzzle you had fallen back into your old dynamic.

It was almost like you guys weren’t standing half naked in front of each other.

“Anything to make your day, Yoongles.”

In a second, Yoongi had scooted you over. The other side of the bed was cold but you didn’t mind.

He slipped under the covers next to you.

He’d settled under them, his body faced towards you before he spoke again. A small smile on his soft baby lips.

“Is it weird that I’m starting to like when you call me ‘Yoongles’?”

You mirrored his position, putting a hand under your head. Your chest was slightly exposed, still covered by the sheets but he didn’t look down and you didn’t mind.

“No… is it weird I’m starting to like you calling me Squirt?”

“No,” he confirmed with a slight shrug.

A comfortable silence built up between you. Your eyes started to feel heavy.

Tentatively, Yoongi reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His soft touch made you fall further into the land of sleep.

When your breath had evened out, Yoongi tapped your nose then traced your slightly parted lips.

This road trip hadn’t gone how he wanted it to.

Not by a long shot.

But he couldn't say he was totally disappointed.

As you slept, he felt his own eyes begin to close. His eyelids were heavy.

He fell into the comfortable darkness not too long after you did.

You guys were friends.

And maybe, he just had to accept that.

Maybe it was for the best.

And maybe… just maybe… he could grow to be okay with it.

Some day.

Don’t hate me....

Masterlist

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (2/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings: Some language. More angst a la Steve.

Notes: I don’t do taglists so please don’t ask.

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Steve’s beginning to wonder if he should see Dr. Cho. Headaches have plagued him almost every day since he humiliated you in the gym. He knows that’s exactly what he did, and he almost felt compelled to commend you for keeping your cool in front of Bucky and the other agents. He also knows his treatment of you was more than a little unfair, but his ego wouldn’t allow him to rein it in. You had to learn, had to toughen up. If you couldn’t, you were useless to him and to SHIELD.

His uniform is tight across his chest as he straps in - a last minute mission mandated by Director Hill to scope out potential Hydra activity. He chose Bucky to accompany him, knowing the brunet has been itching to whoop some Hydra ass.

Now, Bucky stands in the jet, strapped to the nines in black leather and weapons, both visible and concealed. His dark arm glows under the blue lighting in the jet. He looks ready for a fight.

“You got this, right?” he asks. He knows he doesn’t need to, that Bucky wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think he could handle it. But he does anyways, just because.

“Yeah, piece a’ cake,” is Bucky’s reply as he cracks the knuckles of his flesh hand. “Let’s see how they feel about Frosty the Snowman exacting his revenge.”

Steve remembers when Bucky was afraid to joke about his time as the Winter Soldier. It hadn’t been too long ago, really, that he was shying away from anyone who dared utter the moniker or even Hydra. Now that he’s in recovery, he’s found dark humor in his experiences, can make a little light of what he’d gone through.

Steve aims a pointed look at his friend. “We’re not killing anybody, Buck. This is just intel.”

Bucky scoffs, waves dismissively. “We say that every time, and then every time, shit goes south. And if this was “just intel”, you would’ve brought one of the rookies to test them out - not me.”

“None of the rookies are ready for a mission yet,” he retorts, sliding his hands into his gloves. Bucky raises his eyebrows, feels a little wary about what he’s going to say next.

“Agent L/N seems to be able to handle herself.”

If Bucky wasn’t so in tune to both his best friend and in people’s body language, he would’ve missed the way Steve’s entire body goes rigid. Instead, he crosses his arms as Steve makes a show out of a long silence, purposely hesitating in responding.

“Agent L/N needs improvement,” is what he finally settles on. Then, because he’s not really sure why, he follows it up with, “She shouldn’t even be an agent.”

Bucky’s incredulous. “Why? Because of her knee? I’m missing an arm, as you so eloquently pointed out the other day. Should I not be an Avenger because of it?”

“It’s different, Buck,” Steve replies sharply, crystal blue eyes blazing when he finally lifts head to glare at the other man. Bucky’s hardly phased, simply crosses his arms over his chest patiently.

“How is it different? By your logic, no one with injuries or handicaps should be an Avenger, or an agent, or even military.” Steve’s silent. He knows Bucky’s right, but he won’t, can’t, admit it. His friend’s voice is soft as he asks, “Why are you so much harder on her than the others? What is it about her?”

“Leave it alone, Buck.”

The tone of his voice rings in finality - he won’t discuss this anymore, and Bucky is frustrated over it. He knows his friend is stubborn, pigheaded really, but he’ll get Steve to crack - eventually. For now, he lets it go, moves to the front of the jet where Clint is at the controls.

Meanwhile, Steve stews in irritation. The very topic of you is enough to have his face heating, fists clenching, and while he knows it isn’t really fair - he doesn’t really know you, after all - he can’t help it. Almost everything about you is enough to grate on his nerves. His therapist would tell him he’s projecting, but he can’t seem to stop.

The mission ends up being a bust. Absolutely no intel on Hydra activity whatsoever. Just a warehouse with a number of homeless people taking refuge inside it. So Steve and Bucky end up nearly buying out an entire grocery store out of nonperishables to keep them fed as the weather gets colder. Might as well turn the trip into something positive.

When the quinjet lands on the platform, Steve breaks away from Bucky. His post-mission routine, regardless of the outcome, is a solid two hours in the gym. Tony is on his ass for how many punching bags he goes through, but it’s the only way he knows how to level his head out again. He makes a quick stop at his room, changing into gym clothes, but when he gets to the gym door, he freezes.

It’s occupied. By you.

For a few moments, he just waits outside the door. Waits to see if you’re finishing up, and when you start on a new workout, he blows out a breath. He’s not sure if he should go in; you mere presence is enough to keep his concentration off his workout, but he feels the anxious energy in his veins.

He needs this workout, so he enters the gym.

You look up from your place on the bench press station, face hardening when you see Steve waltzing over to the squat rack like he owns the gym. White hot rage coils in your belly, an autonomous reaction to his presence. Since his public humiliation of you in front of other agents, you’ve been on the defensive around him, but you keep your head down and obey orders like a good little soldier.

You do it to appease him, but you aren’t happy about it. Not at all. It makes you feel subordinate - which, technically in rank, you are - but even worse, it makes you feel about two inches tall. He doesn’t act this way with other agents. He’s tough, yes, but never nasty in the way he is with you. It only leads you to believe it’s personal - for whatever reason, he just doesn’t like you.

Gritting your teeth, you turn back to lifting, grunting lowly with the effort. While you work out, your mind wanders.

Bucky’s salve has so far done wonders for your knee. When you push it, there’s only a dull ache beneath the surface. It’s there, but manageable. You’ll have to arrange to have Shuri send more, and you’ll get Bucky a gift basket maybe as thanks.

You’re still a little thrown by Bucky’s friendliness towards you - being best friends with Steve, you’d wrongly assumed he’d be just like him. After all, all the stories you’d heard of the two involved them getting into trouble in some way or another. You’re pleasantly surprised to learn it’s not the case at all - the two of them, while similar in some ways, you’ve noticed, are like hot and cold.

Where Bucky is extremely mild-mannered and gentle from what you’ve gathered, Steve seems the opposite - coarse, abrasive, quick to anger. It forces you to give him a wide berth whenever you’re around him.

Today is no different. The two of you dance around each other as you work out, and you can see the pinched lines in his face that tell you your presence bothers him just as his does you. When you step up to the fly machine beside him, he slams the weights down hard. Bristling, you find a different machine.

It goes like this for another twenty minutes - you find a machine, and he’s quick to push you off of it. You know you don’t necessarily have to leave, but being so close to him makes you angry all over again, voiding your work out completely. You’d come to work off your stress, and he’s only adding to it.  It’s as he swipes the treadmill you’re walking towards that you throw your hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” you growl, louder than intended as it echoes in the room. “I’m leaving.”

As you turn to go, his super hearing picks up, “Fucking asshole.”

When you slam the door behind you, Steve feels a little bit badly for cutting your workout short. He knows, maybe better than a lot of people, how good it feels to work off stress. He hadn’t missed the deep frown on your face each time he pushed you off a machine despite there being plenty of space for the two of you. Honestly, he’s surprised you went with it as long as you had, and even he can admit that last move was a pretty dickish one to make. You just make him so angry and flustered, and he knows he should address the why, but he isn’t ready to - not yet.

You’re cursing under your breath as you storm the hall up to your living quarters. They were optional when you signed on as an agent, but seeing as how you didn’t have much of a life to begin with, you didn’t see the point in having your own apartment.

Your quarters are basically an apartment anyways, though you share the space with your roommate, Julie. She’s a good agent, smart, though a little hot-tempered if you’re being honest. Can’t really take a joke, either. But she’s clean, quiet, doesn’t cause trouble.

In the middle of your muttering towards the elevator, you completely miss Bucky leaning against the wall beside it, smirking a little as his hearing picks up on you cursing Steve’s name. When you finally do see him, you startle, jumping backwards a little with a hand over your heart.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you gasp, and Bucky has to swallow thickly against the imperfect thoughts skittering across his brain. Instead, his smirk widens and he pushes off the wall.

“What’s Steve done now?”

You look confused, until it registers, and then you wave a hand around your ear. “Right, super hearing. He thwarted my workout.”

“Thwarted?” he snorts, eyes glittering in amusement. You scowl, but your mouth twitches a bit. Bucky is one hell of a mood-booster.

“Yes, thwarted. Basically forced me out of the gym with his planet-sized temper tantrum.” The vitriol is back in your voice, and Bucky sighs, shakes his head a little at the absurdity of his best friend.

“Since he won’t, I’ll apologize on his behalf. I really wish I knew what’s gotten into him,” he replies truthfully. You frown, both because the easiness is gone from his face and because you don’t mean to talk badly about his best friend, his Captain.

“Probably that shield of his shoved too far up his ass,” you grumble, brightening when Bucky laughs. Smiling softly, you add, “You don’t need to apologize for him, you know?”

Bucky likes the softness in your gaze, feels himself go mushy on the inside. Needing another reason to talk to you, he nods down at your knee.

“How’s it feeling?”

You kick your leg out a couple times, grinning happily. “Feels good. That salve really works, so thank you. I might have to get you a new bottle, though.”

He brushes it off. “Don’t worry about it. Shuri sends it every month or so. I can have her add a few bottles on for you, if you want?”

He preens when you flush, cheeks warming and eyelashes fluttering. You scratch your arm nervously, peek up at him under your lashes.

“You don’t have to do that for me, Buck.” It’s the softest, gentlest he’s ever heard you speak, and your eyes betray how much his offer really means to you. It makes your heart pound, makes you even more aware that it’s just the two of you in this hallway. It’s as intimate as when you were in his room that first time.

“It’d be my pleasure, doll.” The pet name comes too easily, he thinks, but he hasn’t a mind to care. Not when you flush so prettily. “Can I walk you up?”

“Sure.”

Chapter Three

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Revenge on a Car Napper” (Rated M)

Summary: After Kurt breaks an important promise to his boyfriend, Sebastian plans an appropriate revenge. (1390 words)

Notes: Assumes Kurt and Sebastian met at Dalton. Rating is for mention of a sexual act.

Read on AO3.

Sebastian tries to be nice about it. 

“Kurt?”

He tries to be gentle. 

"Hey, Kurt?"

He tries to wake Kurt slowly, the way a loving boyfriend should.

"Ku-urt? Wakey-wakey... "

But when Sebastian shakes his shoulder for the fifth time and Kurt doesn’t even blink, Sebastian loses his cool. He shoves him over, hard enough to jostle his head.

“Kurt!”

Kurt snorts indelicately, sitting bolt up in his seat like he heard a gunshot.

“(Shn-ick) Wh-what!? What happened? What’s going on? Did someone hit us? DID YOU REAR END SOMEONE WITH MY BABY!?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, pulling Kurt's Navigator to the side of the road.

“No,” he says, voice tight with a desperate need to sleep. “Your baby is fine. We were supposed to switch off more than two hours ago!”

Kurt's eyes dart around the interior of the SUV, falling on the radio clock and blinking to bring the numbers into focus. He nods, arriving at some sort of silent understanding. “Right! Right, right, right… ” His eyelids flutter closed, head bouncing forward as he drifts back to sleep. Sebastian watches him nodding off and (seeing no other cars on the road, not that he'd really care if there were) slams his hand down on the horn.

Kurt’s eyes snap open, and he scrambles upright again. “I’m awake! I'm awake!”

“Come on, Kurt!”

“I’m sorry!”

“We had a deal! You knew you were supposed to take a shift! Why did you take that Goddamned Ambien to begin with?” Sebastian whines, quickly coming to terms with the fact that Kurt is probably in no condition to drive regardless of whether or not Sebastian is in danger of dying in his seat.

Which he is.

“You know I get sick on long car rides," Kurt says through only half his mouth and with one eye open. "It was either I sleep or I vomit. Which would you have preferred?”

“At this point,” Sebastian growls, teeth clenched, “I wouldn't care if we were swimming in your partially-digested dinner as long as I could put my head down for an hour!”

Kurt glares at Sebastian with disgust. “Ewww! That's an image,” he says, head dropping onto the headrest behind him, eyelid falling shut.

“Kurt?” Sebastian waves a hand in front of Kurt's face, trying to assess the consciousness of his drugged boyfriend. “Kurt?” 

Kurt’s lips part and Sebastian hears him snore softly.

“Kurt!? Fuuuucccccckkkkkk!” Sebastian jumps up and down in the driver’s seat, smacking the steering wheel until his palms vibrate with pain. His tantrum pauses momentarily when he surrenders to a yawn, realizing with dismay that he’s wasting the little energy he has left while on a road with no turnouts for him to pull over and take an emergency snooze.

Sebastian sighs, defeated. He puts the Navigator back into drive and resigns to keep going for as long as he can.

He'll find a way to get back at his boyfriend later.

An hour down the dark and lonely road, Sebastian’s mind swirls with ways he can exact revenge on Kurt. It might not be the nicest subject to dwell on, but for now, focusing on vengeance is the only thing keeping him awake. His eyes shift from time to time to peek at his selfish boyfriend resting comfortably in the passenger seat.

Bitterly, Sebastian pokes Kurt in the arm.

Nothing.

He smacks Kurt on the shoulder.

Still nothing.

He licks a finger and sticks it in Kurt’s ear.

Kurt shifts positions, mumbles nonsense. For a second, Sebastian is relieved, certain that a wet willy did the trick where all else has failed. But after a few unattractive grunts, Kurt settles down and starts to snore again. Sebastian changes lanes sharply. Kurt rolls toward the door, then flops back to his original position.

Not a stir.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Sebastian's eyes flick to Kurt, whose mouth has opened further, almost inhumanly, like a python unhinging its jaw to devour a rabbit.

“At least he’s not drooling. And thank Heavens no one important is here to see this,” he declares loudly, still trying in vain to wake Kurt up. “God forbid your friends from Vogue saw you with your mouth hanging open and your hair messed up.” He gasps dramatically. “What would Isabelle say?”

Sebastian's eyelids grow heavy, fighting to close, so he aims his face towards the cold air rushing in through the cracked window. With the frigid wind prying his lids open and its howling whoosh drowning out the wet rattle of Kurt’s snoring, he can think much more clearly.

And because he can think, he gets a nasty idea.

He pulls his iPhone out of its dock on the dashboard.

“I know you get angry when I use my phone while I drive,” Sebastian mocks an unconscious Kurt while activating his camera app, “but what you don’t know won’t bother you… yet.”

***

They reach their hotel a little after three in the morning. It’s too late for a dip in the hot tub to ease Sebastian’s stiff muscles, so he zeros in on the shower instead, determined to let the hot spray beat the ache out of him.

“I am so so so sorry,” Kurt repeats for the tenth time. “I totally… ”

“Forget it.” Sebastian reaches for his luggage, but a chipper and fully-energized Kurt swoops in and grabs it before Sebastian can pick it up.

“No, I was an ass. And I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“How about you drive the rest of the way to San Francisco,” Sebastian suggests. “This way I can spend seven hours sleeping this time.”

“Done,” Kurt agrees, kissing Sebastian’s cheek before leading the way to their room. “But in the meantime, why don’t you get the shower started… ” Kurt runs the keycard through the reader and unlocks the door, holding it open so a barely conscious Sebastian can stumble inside “... and I’ll join you in a bit to help polish your doorknob… ”

Sebastian chuckles. Polish your doorknob is their ridiculous secret code for an in-shower blowjob. It was a phrase they had come up with in high school so that they could talk about sex under their teachers’ noses and it kind of stuck.

Sebastian’s face lights up.

“You promise?” he asks, pulling Kurt into the room and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“I promise."

Sebastian smiles wider. “Swear on your entire collection of McQueen scarves that no matter what, you’ll come into the shower with me and… uh… polish my doorknob.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised that Sebastian would feel the need to have him make such a promise. But seeing how badly he broke the last promise he made, he supposes it's only fair.

“Of course,” Kurt reassures him. “You know how much I love it. And after what you've been through tonight, you deserve to have your doorknob gleam like the top of the Chrysler Building.”

“Great.” Sebastian kisses Kurt on the forehead. “I’ll get the water started.”

“I’ll be with you in a second. I want to check Facebook." Kurt slides out of his coat. He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocks the screen. “Our East Coast friends should be awake by now. I want to update my status. Make them all pea green with envy.”

“You do that.” Sebastian grabs his toiletries and walks into the bathroom, maniacal grin on his face. He shuts the bathroom door and stands quietly behind it, listening to Kurt mutter as he checks his home page.

“Wow!” he calls out so Sebastian can hear. “I have thirty-two new notifications! We’ve only been gone for a day… what!?”

Sebastian throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“What the… ?” Kurt's voice grows more and more agitated as he flips through recent posts.

When he sees photos he was tagged in overnight.

There’s an unnerving beat of quiet, and then: “SEBASTIAN!”

“Hurry up, babe,” Sebastian manages through guffaws. “You promised to come in and polish my doorknob.”

The bathroom door shakes violently with the force of the shoe Kurt throws at it. Sebastian jumps away from the door before something heavier follows. He undresses quickly, steps into the shower, and turns on the spray. 

So maybe he won’t get his blowjob. But for now, revenge feels much, much better.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Fifth Act: Diligence

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him - James 1:12

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, supernatural, angst, slow-burn, slice of life, comedy

word count: 12.9k (CHONKY BOIII)

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Fourth Act: Kindness

A/N: when i said it was long, it’s LONG long. WHEW! The second longest chapter in the series so far?? djfksgh Sorry to keep you waiting for so long ;w; I can’t thank you enough for your patience and unwavering love and interest for this series in spite of it! So here we go, FIFTH ACT YALL HHHH I hope you’ll enjoy!!

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy

You don’t want to admit it.

It’s so cliche.

But you’re not gonna burst out singing Meg’s song from Hercules because you’ve passed that stage at least.

What your problem is is that confessing your feelings has proven to be way easier said than done on a multitude of different levels.

Confessing to someone is already a nerve-wracking thing to begin with — you’re basically laying your heart out to a person hoping that they won’t end up completely crushing it —  but furthermore, you don’t even know how to go about doing this. For the past days or so since you’ve resolved yourself to Jaehee that you were going to take that leap of faith, your only means of contact with Jimin has been through texting which was both a blessing and a curse.

You’re not gonna lie and say that you didn’t need to do some psyching up first, some mental pep talk through the assurance that you could still hold a decent conversation with him without getting sweaty palms. Of course, when you did manage to pull enough courage to direct the conversation to that topic (and okay maybe a glass of wine helped too), you were strategically swerved.

If there was one thing you wanted to do when you confessed, it was to do it in person. You feel like this is too big of a deal to do through text even if it would’ve helped you with organizing what you wanted to say better. You wanted to be open with yourself and to Jimin and being face to face was the only sure way to get your sincerity across.

So whenever you ask him if there was any chance he could meet up in person, whether it be at a cafe or even just late at night in your room, he would always excuse himself saying that he couldn’t. The reason always being that he was ‘busy’ or had matters he needed to attend to (his words, not yours). You understood at first, though the times when they happened it had put a damper on your confidence, but it soon became too redundant and you grew agitated, even more so because any attempts at a compromise didn’t work either; Jimin never gives a straight enough answer for it.

But then the chats became sparser, never lasting more than a few short exchanges until they just stop altogether.

And when the texts aren’t being returned, your calls are met in the same manner; your only reply is the sound of the dial tone.

Soon your suspicions morphs into anxieties, and though you attempt to reign in your imagination, the longer you don’t hear from him, the more they become rampant. Your mind begins to dredge up memories of things you’d rather forget, playing them out as if to show you how eerily similar this all is, taunting you, reminding you that the last time this had happened your guardian demon had come back on the brink of death.

You swallow, trying to quell the suffocating feeling that comes up but there’s a pressure on your chest that has your breathing shortened. You’re wringing your hands unconsciously, a small attempt at coping with how on edge you’ve become though it proves to not be as effective as you would have liked. How you found that out was because anything and everything irritated you and it showed.

You hate how it seems like you can’t go for a minute without wanting to snap at the next person who so much as look at you — a really bad thing because you work in an industry that requires you to maintain your cool in literally any situation, even the most absurd ones.

And it’s like today was ‘let’s irritate the hell out of Y/N L/N’ and you didn’t get the memo because the clowns are out in full force.

“Well I don’t want to call the help line, that’s gonna take too long.”

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, deep breaths.

“They’re actually pretty fast with finding your transaction history; the only time it would take a while is if you called during the weekend because their time of operation is shortened.” You explain for what felt like the millionth time.

Yet still, the man in front of you continues to scowl as if this is entire thing was your fault.

“But I’m already here, I don’t want to have to go home and come back because that’s a waste of gas.”

“Sir,” You start again, “I can’t refund this item for you at full price if you don’t have the receipt. As I said, I can still put it on a store credit but I will have to deduct thirty percent because I don’t know if you got this on sale or if you used a coupon — that’s just store policy. Or,” The word comes out firmly, “You can find the exact same item and just do a straight exchange for the better of the two.”

He pauses, as if to think it over and you were foolish enough to think that maybe he finally sees reason, but then he opens his mouth.

“But I want my full refund.”

Holy shit if it were not for the laws of this land….

“Then you’re gonna have to call the help line or go find the exact same item and exchange them.”

You’re done, you’re absolutely done and you swear if this man doesn’t walk away doing any of your suggestions right now, you can’t promise that no ones about to get smacked in the face with your scanner. Thankfully, as if the universe has heard you, he begrudgingly takes the box of outdoor fairy lights (you really want to pull your hair out here) and heads off down an aisle. You actually breathe out a sigh of relief, but there goes what little of your patience you have left.

Now you can only pray that the rest of your shift goes by as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

Obviously that was too much to ask for.

You cash out around five people more before a woman approaches your register, holding a box with a picture of a white Instax Mini Polaroid camera on the front. You’re not sure if it’s your gut instincts or because you’re already so annoyed that immediately, you have a bad feeling about this. Regardless however, you muster all the mental strength you possess to suppress the feeling. Lips pulled taut into a wide smile, you greet the customer with an overcompensating amount of friendliness.

“Hello, how are you?”

“Yeah, I want to change the colour of this polaroid camera.”

You force the smile to remain on your face, “Sure no problem! Which colour would you like instead?”

“The pink one.”

You turn around to scan the rows of polaroid boxes hanging on the pegs behind you, picking out of the three colours available for the pink one the woman wanted. Placing it on the counter beside you, you ask nicely, “Can I see the receipt for the camera that you have and the camera as well please?”

She slides the box over to you and you see the receipt poking out of the slit. You take it out, opening the box to check the camera inside and make sure that everything that came with it was still there. Once you confirm that it is, you close it back up and unfold the receipt to match the barcode number on the box to the one that’s printed. Looking over to the pink coloured one, you confirm that the the item code for the white and pink cameras are different which comes as no surprise for you; in order to do this exchange, you would have to return and repurchase so the inventory count would be correct for the store.

A rather simple and painless concept.

“Why can’t I just take this one and give you this one?” The lady questions, annoyance colouring every one of her words as she gestures between the two cameras.

“I know they’re the same camera but since they’re different colours, they have two unique item numbers that differentiate them from each other to help with our inventory. It would only work if they were the exact same camera.”

“But they are!”

“They’re different in colours.”

“You know I’ve shopped here for a long time and I have never had to do this before.” She scowls at you and you refrain from rolling your eyes because clearly she doesn’t shop here enough to know.

“We’e always had this policy ma’am.” You instead answer plainly, the artificial civility in your demeanour already dissipating. When it’s clear that you weren’t going to budge and give in to her intimidation, she rolls her eyes and pulls out her card to insert into the pin pad. The computer system lets out a beep in error, letting you know that the card she used was not the one she purchased the camera with.

“Is that a debit or a credit card?” You ask despite already knowing.

“It’s a debit.”


“It has to be on the same card you used to pay for the camera.”

“Why can’t I just use any card?” You can already pick up the growing inflection in her voice; it’s a little louder and more aggressive but at this point you’re at your wits end too.

“For security purposes.” You choose to state simply, tired of explaining when you know it won’t work.

“Well, I don’t have that card on me because I thought this was going to be a simple exchange.” She says accusatorially, like of course all of this is your fault and you’re the one who’s being difficult. You try to take a deep breath in discreetly, jaw clenched until you feel it beginning to ache before you reply back to her.

“I can put it on a store credit and you can just use that amount to pay for the camera again.”

Your answer makes her huff, crossing her arms as she says, “Fine.”

Your finger practically punches in the appropriate operating system for the return method, reaching in a side drawer behind your counter to pull out a black card meant for store credits. There’s a slight tremble in your hand from the sheer effort of holding yourself back, feeling like a coiled snake ready to lash out at the littlest prod that you try to keep hidden by speeding up the process, which almost makes you slam the drawer close with more force than necessary.

You confirm the amount and swipe the card through the machine in one quick motion, carelessly dropping the card onto the counter in front of you as you wait for the printout copy of the transaction to come out.

“You didn’t have to throw the card like that.” The woman’s voice snap, piercing through your tunnel vision, so hyper-focused on just getting the task done that for a good minute you actually don’t know what she’s talking about.

“I didn’t throw the card.” You reply evenly.

“Yes, you did. Just now.” She challenges, gesturing to the card and pinning you with a sharp glare.

“It dropped out of my hand.”

“No, you threw it.”

“I didn’t throw the card, it dropped out of my hand.” You reiterate, biting out the words that at this point, there’s no way she wouldn’t notice your own growing disdain. To your surprise, she doesn’t continue to try and fight you on this (though the crossed look on her face remains) so you take it as a sign to proceed on to completing this transaction.

You think you’re in the clear; after swiping the card through, you hand over her new receipt and the camera she wanted but before you can even think about gritting out a very forced ‘have a nice day’, the woman cuts you off with a terse, “I’m speaking to your management about this. What is your name?”

The shock of her words make you freeze in place, your jaw nearly dropping from speechlessness. She can’t be serious right now….

But as the woman continues to wait, clearly impatient yet stubborn enough to wait for your answer, you realize that yes, she really is threatening to take down your name and report you to management over this petty squabble. Your heart is practically beating in your throat now and you feel your face heating up at how angry you’re getting, so much that for a split second the rash thought of outright refusing her came into mind. You wanted so badly to go through with it, loathed the idea of letting her think she had won when it’s her who was wrong in the first place. However, rationality wins over in the end; as sweet as the instant gratification would be, you think it’s not worth losing your job over.

Also, you just want her gone.

So you find yourself swallowing your pride and begrudgingly, you give her your name. To add insult to injury, she asks for a pen to write it down onto her receipt before she finally turns to walk off.

Great, fantastic, just what you needed; being written up because this stupid, entitled bitch decided to mouth off on you for something you have no control over.

You hate how your heart is still pounding, still trembling from your barely restrained emotions that has your nails digging into your palms. With a shaky exhale in an attempt to shake it off, you radio over to your manager that you would like to take your break now.

Thankfully, you’re given the go ahead and you had never made for the break room faster in your life, brisk pace allowing for no chances of getting stopped by any more annoying customers. Once the door shuts behind you do you finally slump back against it, temples throbbing as you take in deep shuddering breaths.

It takes a feel minutes before you feel calm enough, the overwhelming fire simmering down to a calm you can control.

You may have had to swallow your pride in telling a Karen your name and risk being written up, but you’ll be damned if you let it break you down.

-

The groan comes out unabashedly when you unceremoniously fling yourself across your bed, finally home after what felt like a ten hour shift. You lay there, eyes shut like you’re trying to trick your body that you’re in the state of sleep just so you can obtain some semblance of energy back — it doesn’t work.

Instinctively, your hand reaches to dig into your sling bag to fish out your phone, muscle memory dictating your actions as your thumb slides your lock pattern open and they’re tapping on the messenger icon before you can even think to stop yourself. The window opens with Jimin’s message thread staring right in your face, mocking in the way it has not changed status at all, frozen in its own time.

You don’t know how many times you’ve seen this screen at this point but it still never fails to stir back up all the negative thoughts and emotions that has been plaguing you so vividly as if it was your first time experiencing it. Your teeth are tugging at your lips again, reading and rereading your own sent messages that have gone unanswered, all asking the same thing;

Are you okay?

Where are you?

The details to the questions are no longer of your concerns because each scenario you conjure in your head was worse than the last that they threaten to drive you mad. You don’t think you can bear the weight on your heart much longer as more and more days pass in living this torturous limbo of not knowing.

All you wanted was just an answer, anything that would let you know that he was out there, alive and well.

That alone was enough for you.

You tear your gaze away from the offending sight, tossing your phone carelessly onto your bed somewhere. You sit back up just in time to hear the front door unlock and open, signalling for Jaehee’s arrival home.

You exit your room to greet her, wanting to take your mind off of things if only for a short while.

“Hey, where’d you run off to all day?” You ask, helping Jaehee with a couple of grocery bags but a quick peek lets you see that there are some that contains other curious things like….is that a plant?

“Hey! Oh, just here and there. Stocked up on some more food stuff but then got really distracted because look at these!”

Jaehee excitedly sets down a reusable bag on the table before reaching inside to pull out its content, which turns out to be a good sized leafy plant sitting in a cute little white ceramic pot. The leaves are wide and arrow-like in shape, marbled beautifully in vibrant greens and yellows — the lightest colour starting from the centre and transitioning much darker —  that makes them appear as if they have been painted on. At a quick glance, you would’ve actually believed that the plant is fake if it wasn’t for the specks of dark soil spilling out from the base when Jaehee accidentally tipped it too much while placing it down.

“They’re called Chinese Evergreens. Aren’t they pretty?” Your roommate beams, twisting the plant this way and that. “Now that I got some time to myself, I thought why not finally fulfill my wish in living my life out as a plant mom.”

A loud snort leaves you as you gingerly place the bag of food on the kitchen counter, turning around to see that Jaehee has pulled out yet another leafy looking plant, only the leaves of this one were long and banana shaped, a solid dark, olive green colour and parted slightly at the centre into an almost fan-like shape with seven leaves equal to each side.

“I got this one because I remember growing up, my parents had one, only theirs was way bigger.” Jaehee comments, holding up the plant comfortably in her hands. “I never knew what it was called until the gardener helping me told me it was a Kaffir Lily.”

You blink, a little skeptical at the name because it certainly didn’t resemble the lilies you pictured in your head.

“Lily? So does that mean it’ll flower?”

“Apparently? I was surprised too because I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents’ plant flower but the gardener say its sporadic and sometimes first blooms don’t happen until two or three years later.” Jaehee regards the plant with a pensive pout and a tilt of her head but then shrugs and happily says, “But judging from the pictures though, they look pretty!”

You hum, choosing to nod along with what Jaehee says before turning back to sort out the food she’s bought. Seeing Jaehee so lively like this makes you glad for her. Ever since quitting her job, it’s like a weight has been lifted and Jaehee isn’t shy about taking full advantage of all the time she has now to do the more simpler things she’s missed out on — like cultivating plants apparently.

Whatever the hobby is, it’s nice to know that at least one of you is thriving.

Over dinner you express as much, which you get a boisterous laugh in response and actually feel sorry when Jaehee asks the same of you but all you can do is tell her that things have been the complete opposite on your end.

Aside from the god awful day at work you had (one which had Jaehee physically reeling and not knowing what to do with herself for a good five minutes; that was pretty funny), you had also told her of your predicament with Jimin. She’s frowning by the time you get out that you haven’t heard from him for days now.

“Every time I ask him to meet up in person, he’s always brushed me off or changes the subject, like he’s avoiding it.” You sigh out heavily, can’t keep how troubled you are from it out of your voice. “Now I don’t even hear from him at all and it’s making me anxious.”

A pause, and once again you’re wringing your fingers as you try to work out any sort of explanation for this. “You don’t think…You don’t think I scared him off do you?”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it.” Jaehee affirms, though the pinch in her brows doesn’t go away. “I mean it would suck if that’s all it takes because damn, I actually had a lot of faith in him but….I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right to me.”

Her words give you more comfort than you had expected, a relief you hadn’t known you needed and you’re all the more grateful for her to anchor you down. After wracking her head a bit more, Jaehee says carefully, “You mentioned how he was leaving soon, did he say anything about when he’s coming back or….?”

“No, he— he didn’t say. Just that it would be soon….” You swallow, feeling your chest clench suddenly. “I mean, he’s been gone before like this — twice actually — but he comes back, he always does…”

Even if it nearly kills him….

You trail off in your ramblings, trying hard not to reveal too much to Jaehee yet you feel like you’re making excuses for yourself because you don’t want to acknowledge the possibility that Jimin would up and leave without telling you. If not to your face then you’d hoped he would have at least the decency to leave you a note. Besides, shouldn’t there be some sort of formal undoing to your contract with him if he’s clear to be a free roaming demon again? It wouldn’t make sense if you’re still tied to each other in some way, or does the contract simply null itself? You refrain from letting out a groan, feeling the frustration and the oncoming headache draining what last bit of energy you have left. Instead, you drag your hands down your face and let out a heavy sigh.

“It only makes me worry because sometimes he’s reckless and does stupid things….”

“Wait, like what kind of ‘stupid things?’” Jaehee suddenly interjects, sitting up a little straighter and sounding a little more concerned. It has you floundering on how to put lightly that it’s in Jimin’s nature (and literally his job) to go out and find people to tempt them into depravity; would be fine and all had he been the only dangerous thing roaming the city but no doubt after that fateful night, there was something else more dangerous out there. Even though Jimin had told you it was one of those rare moments that he ended up so badly injured like that, you’d rather not take any chances or have him test his luck again.

“I don’t know like…things that might get him into unnecessary trouble.” God that does not make it sound any better. Panicked, you hastily add, “Nothing illegal of course! But like he…tends to wander and is a little too impulsive sometimes – do his own thing without thinking it through?” You cringe, bracing for Jaehee to give you shit for liking a guy who now sounds like a drug dealer or something. She gives you a rather perplexed look, a sort of lopsided quirk of her lips but eventually she seems to let it go, wordlessly trusting you and your sense of judgment.

“I’m just asking because….” Jaehee hesitates, then begins chewing on her bottom lip and her nervous tick starts to make you antsy.

“What?”


“When I met up with him, on the day we talked about quitting my job at the cafe, he also brought up how he’ll be gone for a bit and told me to make sure it doesn’t worry you too much.” She lets out a short, wry chuckle. “Actually said something along the same lines but about you, or as he put lightly, ‘make sure she doesn’t go off and do something she might regret.’”

It takes a second for her words to process, so shocked at hearing about this new tidbit of information. You blink and can’t help the hard frown that takes over your face, “W-Wha— Wait hold on, he told you he was going to be gone for a while too? And he didn’t say where either?”

And what did he mean ‘go off and do something you might regret’??

Jaehee winces slightly at seeing the heightened distress she’s caused but she powers on, firmly believing that you deserve to know as much as you can in regards to someone you deeply cared about.

“Yeah, he only said that much to me so I’m still as lost as you are. But….” She swallows, “Before he left that day, he didn’t look so well…. Like, he might be coming down with something serious.”

Your shoulders tense, heart palpitating as your mind begins to race.

“I’m not saying this to freak you out because it’s just what I saw so you can take it with a grain of salt. I’m just letting you know in case it might shed some light on some things.” Jaehee placates, holding up a hand as if in an attempt to calm you. You try to get a word out, an acknowledgement or anything but your throat suddenly feels too dry and all of your thoughts are spinning with questions that have no answers.

Did he get hurt? If so, how? Or can demons actually become ill, but from what? Is this why he’s not answering your calls or texts? Because he was trying to hide whatever this is? For how long?

“Do you know any of his friends? Someone you can contact to try and get a hold of him for you?” Jaehee’s voice pulls you back out from those depths, only half registering her words.

“I— Uh…No, not real— “ You stop your jumbled stream of thoughts midway when one name does come to mind. “Yeah…. Yeah I know someone.”

-

You say that, but you hadn’t exactly thought of how you were going to find him, let alone ask him if he could find out where the hell Jimin has disappeared off to.

Hell, you're not even sure if Jungkook's around to help anymore. If you remember correctly, you swear the last time you’ve spoken to him was on that rooftop garden and that felt like ages ago; you haven’t heard so much as a peep from him since.

But you need to try something.

As aloof as he is, Jimin always lingers in some way, like a shadow that’s hidden out sight and after Jaehee’s talk, you're confident that he wouldn’t just leave without telling you first. Clearly, there's something else going on with him and he's not telling you. So it’s with that hope that you find yourself doing things you wouldn’t find yourself doing late into the night at almost two in the morning.

Like google searching how to summon specific demons.

It’s so stupid, you’re well aware. Before, you would be like anyone else when it comes to your opinions on the supernaturals and anything relating to the occult; a skeptic and a very niche hobby one partakes in. You wouldn’t have thought twice about it existing because there was little to no evidence on it (or if there were claims, it would consider to be a reach). Oh how the tables have turned and with this desperate times calls for desperate measures position you’ve found yourself in, now it’s like a whole new world full of possibilities, ripe for your picking.

Perhaps not something you should dive right into the deep end of but what other choices do you have? Besides, you never know if there might actually be something helpful or clues in…..Beginner’s Guide to the Dark Arts and Satanism.

.... Fucking hell, what are you doing?

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, as long as you don’t accidentally end up in the dark webs then you’re good.

You go through a number of different websites, all looking and sounding more like something you would find in a fantasy novel or just plain cult-y. Once or twice you come across ‘summoning rituals’, most of which involve your run of the mill staple requirements: lots of pentagrams, symbols, candles, a skull of an animal or a straight up animal sacrifice, and some fancy incantations that you’re not sure are even legit.

Of the times you do come across specified summoning rituals, they include all of the above in varying methods but one thing that had remained consistent, you noticed, was that you needed a name — a ‘true’ name as they had called it — of the demon you’re trying to summon, like Beelzebub or Lucifer.

It leaves you briefly wondering about your guardian demon’s name, the one he went by rather than the alias he uses. You never realized and the more you mulled over it, you begin to feel immensely guilty.

How must he have felt when you called him by another name that wasn’t his.

You go to sleep that night with a knot in your stomach.

Much of your nights is spent that way; scouring through internet searches hoping to find some sort of lead to go off of but honestly, there’s only so much sifting you can do before everything starts to sound like the ramblings of a fanatic. The only information you had found promising was about the summoning rituals, particularly the ones to summon a specific demon, given if you knew their true names….which is something you don’t possess, either for Jimin’s or Jungkook’s.

It’s a frustrating fact because it’s the last and most crucial thing you needed if you even want to attempt trying. You hate the idea that you’re so close to getting somewhere and it’s just this one thing standing in your way. At this point, you think you might  have more luck trying to summon Lucifer himself and asking him where your guardian demon went.

…..

Huh.

Your fingers stop scrolling through your phone — another demonology article you’ve come across that didn’t really have much to do with finding a lost demon but intriguing enough to have you read — the thought pervading in your mind. It should concern you that it stays for as long as it did but the worse part is that the more you thought on it, the more it made sense.

If you can end up with a demon as your traditional guardian angel, then surely you have a chance at getting a hold of his boss, right?

Before you know it, you're flinging the covers off and booting up your laptop again in the quiet darkness of your room, half telling yourself that you won’t go through with this insane plan if you can’t find that one web page that seems the most credible to you. Much to your bemusement, you do, tucked away as a bookmark no less. It comically sticks out in contrast amongst the other more mundane things on the list; cooking recipes, nail art tutorials and then boom: witchcraft, demonology and understanding how you can attract different entities based on the energy you create through the elements.

Well, you think, looks like you’re about to find out whether Hell really is toll free after all.

-

If someone were to tell you months earlier that you would be spending a weekend shopping around for items to set up a demon summoning ritual you’ll be attempting yourself, you’d probably just let out one long, exasperated groan into oblivion before accepting the predicament, mumbling something along the lines of ‘he’s going to end up killing me first before anything else, and then what?’

Furthermore, you’re not just summoning any demon, you’re going to try to summon Lucifer, essentially the CEO of Hell and you’re about to pull a goddamn Karen — ‘corporate will hear from me!’ — on them because your guardian demon decided to go AWOL on you and you’ve had enough of being left in the dark. When they say you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, this wasn’t exactly what you had pictured for yourself.

Ah, truly the things you do for love.

Once you got over that rather ironic analogy (literally stared vacantly into space for a good ten minutes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry), you had searched up all the places within your city that would possibly have the things you were looking for. The site had suggested a variety of them, ranging from apothecaries to antique shops. It took you by surprise when you do actually find two or three of them, not expecting at all for these sort of niche shops to exist in what you had always pictured to be a mostly uptown urban neighbourhood — guess that goes to show how much you go out.

Your plan was to hit up these little shops, buy what you can find there and then whatever you’re missing you would order off from a suggested website. So that’s how you find yourself on a Saturday off, bright and early; a rare sight for all kinds of reasons as normally, you’d be dead to the world until at least after twelve in the afternoon but you had been so restless that even sleep didn’t hold you back.

You’re on a mission.

After painfully following your buggy google map directions, you stumble upon the first stop. It’s a little apothecary shop, tucked away down a small, narrow side street where much of the city’s history is still prevalent in its structures. You can only guess these buildings were built in the early 1900, or even 1800 — the brick-red edifice is well worn and have patches of dense ivy that seems to almost swallow the walls whole. It appears to be tightly packed, the few mom and pop shops that are open on the street level on either side have multiple windows and sometimes iron fenced balconies above them, which you can only guess are the living spaces for the owners. For the most part, it’s quiet, the only other person you’ve seen is a young man who was too engrossed in getting an interesting angle with his camera.

Craning your neck, you take in the the lacquered sign above which reads ’The Soul Apothecary’ in gold script against a dark forest green paint that colours the outer front of the shop. It’s chipped in some places, mainly along the border that surrounds the large panelled window that display numerous of things on a small wooden shelf; crystals that are big and small in varying colours, jars of dried herbs, small potted plants, and wind chimes made of both wood and silver hanging off to the side.

It’s all very quaint and it makes you think that perhaps on some other less tumultuous time in your life, you would actually visit this place again.

Once you had your fill in admiring the exterior, you finally make your way towards the front entrance, passing by the two potted evergreens and pushing the door open to which a little silver bell chimes, signalling your arrival. Immediately, you’re taken by the interior and the smell of burning incense. It’s rustic in nature, the furnishing mostly, if not in all dark wood with the same forest green accents and despite it being a relatively small shop, everything has been designed to effectively maximize the use of space; nothing appeared to be cramped or cluttered at all.

All the walls were occupied from top to bottom with shelves and drawers, packed full of jars containing who knows what with the occasional decorative pieces breaking in between — taxidermy butterflies in frames, diagrams drawn on parchment that has browned with age, and geodes. There’s a single, long wooden table that sits in the middle of the store that holds trays of trinkets that can be worn with a little chalk sign that has an explanation on the purpose of certain items (and a winky face drawn next to a ‘buy one get one free’ advertisement), mini figurines and mortars. Above you, you realize, were dried lavender and roses hanging from a bar secured into the ceiling, their scents still faintly lingering in the air whenever you pass under.

Finally, you come upon the front till and it’s perhaps by far the most eye-catching thing you’ve ever seen. Framed on either ends of the counter were two wooden pillars that taper towards the top to form a narrow pyramid where two wrought iron rods curve outwards, meeting in the middle. Hanging from them were brass scales, varying in lengths and sizes, some of the little weights left forgotten from previous use. It’s here that you also discover the source of the incense, the lotus shaped burner resting off to the side along a call bell.

You’re so caught up in taking everything in that you had failed to notice someone else has entered the room.

“I gather you enjoy my shop?”

The sudden appearance startles you, whipping your head up to come face to face with a chest before quickly shifting your gaze upwards and when you do, you do a double take. The owner of the voice — and as it turns out, the shop — was a shockingly handsome man, his hair a chestnut brown with the tresses sweeping naturally down over his forehead and looks soft to the touch. His face is oval in shape, set upon a strong jaw and brows but paired with warm features; eyes round, tall nose, and a prominent cupid’s bow upon plush lips (though you’re sure not as plush as Jimin’s), you think you can go as far as to say his face was near perfect— the golden ratio as they call it.

He’s dressed in a white tunic shirt, loose and flowing over broad shoulders and simple black trousers, his only other accessories were the long silk scarf draped around his neck, it’s gold intricate floral designs standing out against the black colour and a single dangling silver earring with a nail point at the end of the chain, the shape reminding you of a fang as it twinkles with the slightest tilt of his head.

For a moment, your mouth and brain fail to work coherently, leaving you to gape stupidly like a fish. To be quite honest, you were half expecting a much older gentleman or lady to be the mysterious owner of the shop, a long ingrained stereotype from all the fairy tales you’ve been told as a child but standing in front of you is a man you think no older than twenty-eight. Furthermore….. why does he look so familiar?

You can’t quite place it, like your mind is just on the cusp of figuring out where you’ve seen him before, but then you’re back to drawing a blank once your eyes focus on his features. It’s almost as if you’re being forced to relive a deja vu over and over again. You give up eventually, tired of this mental battle that’s only aggravating you. Besides, you have more pressing matters at hand. Like functioning as a normal human being.

“I— Uh, y-yeah! It’s— It’s a nice place. So...” You gesture your hands uselessly, not really knowing yourself what you mean by it either so you smile back, exhaling a nervous laugh. He lets out a hearty chuckle in response, a hand over his chest as he throws his head back slightly and letting you see his Adam’s apple bob.

“Ah, hearing how speechless you are about my shop is all the compliment I need.” He peers down at you again, soft smile never leaving his face, “Though that can only mean you’ve never visited before?”

You shake your head sheepishly, confirming his assumptions. “No I haven’t, so you’re right about this being my first time.”

He withdraws to his full heigh with a thoughtful hum, nodding his head and clasping his hand behind his back. “I had a feeling since I remember all of my customer’s faces. I guess I should introduce myself then.” With a flourishing bow, he says, “You can call me Sung Jin or Joel, whichever you prefer.”

You nod, smiling widely as you introduce yourself as well. “Y/N.”

“Y/N….” Sung Jin repeats, committing it to memory. His expression dims briefly, a complete one-eighty from his otherwise cheerful demeanour but as quick as it came, it vanished, replaced by his usual benevolent smile again. It has you thinking that maybe you had imagined it. “What can I help you with today?”

Seeing as there were no other customers aside from yourself, Sung Jin sticks by your side, helping you find most of the items you have written down on a list. He’s charming, quite amicable as he enthusiastically tells you about the different plants and minerals you were looking for in great detail, their medicinal properties (or lack thereof) and other trivia facts you hadn’t bothered to look into.

You enjoy it, fascinated by what you’re learning yet you can’t help feeling the irony of it all because what you’re using these things for is far from healing purposes. And evidently, Sung Jin seems to catch on when the items start to become more and more dubious in nature, but in spite of it, he does little to deter you from buying them.

“So….. Atropa Belladonna….” He starts off casually, one dark brow raised and when you give him a puzzled look back, he adds, pointing his chin at the vial of dull purple, bell-shaped flowers and shiny black berries in your little basket. “Commonly known as deadly nightshade — not something people buy often, let alone ask in my shop.”

“O-Oh….” You nervously fidget, eyes darting from the little jar of poison to the jar in your hand (‘chamomile’ the label reads, a subconscious choice that you’d rather not look too much into). “Uh... I just thought...you know, it looked pretty interesting...?” You sound as convincing as a soggy loaf of bread, the grimace on your face not helping at all.

Sung Jin stares at you, eyes boring so intensely into your soul that you felt the need to lean back slightly. It goes on for a long minute until he lets out a loud gasp and he leans in, stage whispering conspiratorially, “You're not trying to summon a ghost or a demon are you?”

“N-NO!” It comes out louder than you had intended, spluttering and choking on air as you say defensively, “I'm not – !! Who would – why would anyone wanna do that?!” The jar still in your hand nearly goes flying from all the frantic waving you're doing. At your strong reaction, the tall brunette bursts out into a guffaw, slapping the tops of his thigh delightedly, laughter pitching and squeaking as if you'd just told him the funniest joke he's ever heard.

“I'm just kidding! Oh man, the look on your face was priceless!”

Again, you're hit with the dizzying sensation of deja vu, so fast that you're left in a daze until you're knocked back by Sung Jin who playfully smacks you on the shoulder.

Geez, is the incense that strong in here? You don't know what's gotten into you.

Once he finally calms, Sung Jin lets out a satisfied sigh, placing his hands on his hips as he regards you again. “Well! If that's all that you're looking for today, I'll be happy to cash you out whenever you're ready.”

“A-Ah...yeah....” You reply weakly, still trying to recover from the cold sweat that he made you break out into. Once you get your bearings again, you shuffle on over to the register counter and by the time Sung Jin bags the last of your things, you'd spent just a little over a hundred dollars. Your wallet is crying but you tell yourself it's all on Jimin's tab that he's wracking up with you.

“Thanks for everything today, Sung Jin. It was really nice meeting you and finding your shop.” You say. The shop owner smiles at you, about to bid you farewell when he catches himself, eyes widening in realization.

“Ah! I almost forgot something!” He whirls around from leaning against the counter to rifle through the drawers behind him, muttering under his breath until he makes a noise that lets you know that he's found what he was looking for. Turning around, he presents to you a stone crystal of sorts, about the size of his palm. At first, you think it's some type of rose quartz, only much paler than what you're used to seeing but as the light catches it, it shimmers iridescently, the vibrant colours sparkling and bouncing against the wooden surface of the counter. “A gift for you.”

“Oh no, I can't possibly...”

“Consider it as a 'thank you' for spending over a hundred dollars.” Sung Jin cuts you off with a tut, gingerly sliding the crystal into the little black pouch and cinching the draw strings together before offering it to you, “Also, it doubles up as a protective charm.”

“Oh really?” You ask, mildly intrigued, tentatively taking the bag and placing it into one of the pockets in your large tote bag.

“Yeah, keeps away all those evil spirits and spooky, scary stuff.” He wiggles his fingers at you, making you snort. Without any more surprises, you gather the brown paper shopping bags in your hands and turn, ready to leave.

“Thanks again, Sung Jin. I hope I can visit sometimes near the future.”

He shoots you a beaming smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle and cheeks full, waving cutely at you. Right before your eyes, he's aged back ten years and the sight makes it all the more difficult not to return his smile.

“Of course, come back soon Y/N. I'll be expecting you.”

His parting words ring out the same time the bell above the door does, making you halt just outside of the shop. You turn to look back as if something is compelling you to do so. It's confusing because you don't have any attachments to this place, having only visited for the first time and yet, you have this strange feeling of not wanting to leave.

The connection is broken just as quickly however, with the shuttering of painted wood, the door closing with a forceful clatter, effectively cutting off the strong earthy smell that had seemed to permeate around you until now. You shake your head, taking a deep inhale of the fresh air in the late afternoon sun. It clears away whatever dreamy haze that remained and with a shrug, you head on home, intent to tackle the rest of your remaining tasks.

-

Obviously, they would call for a night with a full moon, right on 3AM – the start of the witching hour. That's usually the case with these things right? Aside from this one requirement, everything else had been exceptionally easy to obtain. Your trip to Sung Jin's shop had saved you a lot of time and trouble in finding the things you needed which left only a handful of items that needed to be acquired – most of which you found on Amazon (of all places, but you suppose you really can find anything and everything on Amazon). The only hiccup you had was Jaehee nearly discovering your, as you sardonically call, 'new secret hobby' (boy that would've been a fun conversation to try and weasel your way out of).

So thanks to Amazon Prime, you have your very own demon summoning starter kit ready to go by the time the next full moon appears. And lucky for you, it lands on the day you have a closing shift so after you're done working, you can head right off into doing this – you have your eyes set on a local park just outside of your neighbourhood as the perfect place for it!

Wow, you sound way too excited about trying to summon Lucifer with no prior experience.

But you attribute the morbid exhilaration you're feeling as nerves you would have when you're doing something out of your comfort zone, like skydiving – except this was by far the most unorthodox way of getting high off of an adrenaline rush ever. Either way, you're antsy during the days leading up to it and even more so throughout your shift; you could barely keep still. Once you punch out for the night, you bid a hasty farewell to your co-workers and jet off without a second to waste. You take the bus to your normal route but instead of walking down the street towards your home, you continue on forward for two blocks.

You cross the road, coming up on the park that was like a little island all on its own with a simple playground and a set of swings that has seen better days situated in the centre, bordered by a singular paved path that curved from one end of the park to the other. The three street lamps planted sparely about the area begin to come alive just as the last of the sunset's light fades over the horizon. It casts everything in an umber glow, occasionally flickering sporadically. It's a quiet night, the only sounds are the faint chirping of crickets and passing cars in the busier intersection at the end of the road. There was no other person that occupied the park as far as you can tell, only seeing one or two people out taking a nightly stroll. The weather is especially warm tonight; even with the sun down there is still a blanket of heat that remains in the air, making you think that maybe you might actually get an early summer at this rate.

Your skin feels slightly warm and dewy as you decide to take a seat on the lone bench, finally putting down your tote and the big brown paper shopping bag you've lugged to work and stuffed in your cubby locker. It contains all of the things you need to set up for the summoning ritual but seeing as it's only eleven-thirty, you pull out your headphones to listen to some music while you wait for the appropriate time.

The moon was bright tonight, so clear against the cloudless sky that it almost looks like it was hanging right above you. You fall into a tranquil peace staring at it, the first in what felt like ages that you just bask in it – might as well take advantage of this rare moment before who knows what kind of shit will hit the fan soon.

Unfortunately, it lasts for about a good hour and a half before your nerves rear its ugly head again, suddenly so acutely aware of the time slowly passing. You're no longer satisfied with gazing at the moon, already having given up on trying to see the stars if you stared hard enough (you've never had such luck with that around here anyways). So you try to occupy yourself in other ways, like taking a look around the playground (you foolishly decided to try your hand at going down the twisting red slide which nearly sends you crashing into the sand pit below; that slide should definitely not be that fast) and doing a couple of rounds on the swings (before it let out a loud and concerning creak).

Still, the itch persists, you want to get this over with much like ripping a bandage right off. But magic takes time and precision, there's no cutting corners here, or so you read.

You eventually settle to make your base in the small platform of the play set, anxiously checking and rechecking your bag to see that you have everything. After you painfully drain your phone battery to fifty percent and nearly falling asleep, the clock finally hits 3AM. Now, you're truly deep into the night where the world falls to a hush and knows no better of the deeds that are about to transpire. The perfect cover.

You get to work, climbing down the play set with your bags in tow. Through the tab on your phone, you walk through the steps in setting up the summoning circle, using simple white chalk to draw on the pavement. You sprinkle the area with a crushed mixture of herbs and roots you had bought from Sung Jin's shop in the cardinal directions as instructed and draw a salt ring in the middle, meant to contain and protect you from harm. Finally, you mark the five candles and the inside of your wrists with more symbols in black ink and then take out a safety pin.

This is the one part you hate.

Inhaling deeply, you press the point of the pin against the pad of your thumb, adding pressure until you flinch, feeling the skin pierce and bead of crimson rises from the wound.

“Why do they always gotta involve your blood or any kind of blood....” You mutter, annoyed as you swipe it against the body of each candle, just above the marked symbols. Sticking your thumb in your mouth, you lick away the remaining blood as you arrange the candles to sit at the different points on the summoning circle and with a match stick, you light them all up. When the last of the candle is lit, you flick away the match and get into position, scrolling all the way down on your phone until you reach the incantations.

“Alright, here we fucking go...”

With your palms facing up, you begin to recite the first lines. You try to keep your tone steady and clear, enunciating each word. The further along you go, the easier they flow out like you know them off by heart, shocking you. You don't know if you're just imagining things but it's like something comes over you, a chill that travels down your spine, reaching to your fingertips and makes every nerve endings stand on edge. The sound of your own voice seems so distant to you now, like it's not even yours anymore as you fall into a trance-like state. You fail to notice the breeze that begins to pick up, a static charge in the air as the lamps around you flicker violently and when you utter the name 'Lucifer Morningstar', the candles are blown out.

When you regain your focus, you're slightly out of breath, heart thundering against your chest and in your ears. You glance around your surroundings, cautious and half-expecting to come face-to-face with the devil himself but slowly you realize....

There was nothing.

A whole three-sixty spin confirms it; there wasn't a single thing amiss around you that you're actually left in disbelief. But it's quiet now, too quiet. The crickets have stopped chirping, the street lights have stopped flickering – even the faulty one you saw earlier. So you wait another few minutes for good measures, holding your breath and shoulders tense until a sharp ringing and intense vibration erupts from your hand, causing you to yell out in surprise. Fumbling, you crash onto your knees in an attempt to catch your phone, managing to cushion what would've surely been a screen shattering fall to a short, edge denting clatter. You can't help the pathetic whine that escapes your lips; from being startled, dropping your phone, the ache in your knees, and the fact that the ritual most likely didn't work.

Shaking away the jitters, you blink, momentarily blinded by the light of your phone as it shows you the identity of the caller. You pick up after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“GIRL! WHERE ARE YOU!?” Jaehee's voice screeches through. You pull away, wincing and even from a distance, she speaks as if she's right beside you. “IT'S ALMOST FOUR IN THE MORNING AND IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS SINCE I GOT HOME! TWO HOURS!! AND NO TEXT OR CALL OR ANYTHING?! I THOUGHT YOU GOT KIDNAPPED!”

You sigh, guilt washing over you as you can hear how palpable her worry is. It'd completely slipped your mind to text her that you would be home late. You drag a hand down your face, feeling drained as your night's escapades start to catch up to you and answer Jaehee less she was going to pop a blood vessel.

“Y-Yeah sorry, sorry. I forgot I had to go somewhere and sort of lost track of time, also didn't help that I missed the last bus to get home so...”

“Do you need me to send an Uber? Where did you go? Are you far?”

“No, no it's okay Jaehee, I'll be home in a few minutes don't worry.” You reassure. You end the call after convincing Jaehee that you're absolutely fine and not being held at gunpoint. Looking down at the mess you've made, you can't help the small chortle as it dawns on you that this is definitely not something you should leave behind any evidence of – you don't think families or the elderly would appreciate finding out that there's been some occult funny business going on right outside their homes.

Whoops.

You gather the candles once the wax has dried, stuffing them back into the brown paper bag along with the little jars and vials you used. You sweep away the salt and remnants of the herbs as best you can, pushing them into the grass inconspicuously. For the ink staining your wrists, you wet your fingers with your tongue and rub until all that's left is a blotchy mess. Now all that remains was the chalk drawing of the summoning circle. At first you tried scuffing as much of it with the soles of your shoes but all that does was slightly smudge it, the markings still clear as day.

“Uhhh.....” You flounder, not knowing what to do with your hands before you give your bag a thorough rifle and triumphantly pull out an old water bottle still half full. This will do. You empty it over the drawing, making sure to try and get as much of it as you can. Thankfully, it dissolves without much resistance and you chuck the plastic bottle into the trash can. Sure there might be a few marks left over but it was hardly discernible and honestly, you can't be bothered with any more efforts. You're tired and you just want to go to sleep.

So you head on home without so much as another thought on your mind, oblivious to the ghostly white wisps of smoke trailing after you.

-

Jaehee was on you the moment you stepped through the door, already interrogating you and going as far as to ask if it had anything to do with trying to find Jimin. You should've figured she would assume that, knowing how troubled you were about his absence. At least because of that, she was somewhat more understanding but had made you promise you would let her know if you were going to be out past 2AM.

“I know how worried you are about him, but I don't want you going out and endangering yourself trying to find him like that. You shouldn't have to get hurt because of some bad decisions he chose to make.”

You really wished it was that simple.

So you placate her by saying that you had tried to meet with a friend of Jimin's only to be stood up at the last minute, completely not his fault. She let you go then, still miffed but otherwise glad that you're safe otherwise. You fall into a deep sleep that night the moment your head touches the pillow, exhausted.

It'd been the longest sleep you've ever had. You wake up groggy as all hell but with a new weight on your chest.

Your only lead in finding your guardian demon didn't work and the blow hits harder than you want to admit. It continues to follow you the days going forward, plaguing your mind with one question; where do you go from here?

Should you try other methods to summon a demon? Are there other methods? If so, then what? Try to find a local witch? It eats away at you and you swear you would've fallen into a manic obsession if it weren't for your friends. Like a saving grace, you get a text for an invitation to hang out on the preface that it's been a while and truthfully, it has. The last time you all had the time to gather together was before the BTS concert. At first you had wanted to decline, thinking you're not in the right state of mind to enjoy hanging out leisurely but you second guess yourself; maybe you do need a distraction, something to help clear your mind from this dark void that's taken over your life so that you can regroup and figure out what's your next best course of action.

The final push was Jaehee who practically forces you to go out at this golden opportunity, rightfully concerned about the haggard look you're starting to take on. So you pull yourself together, slap on some makeup to not look as dead on the outside as you feel on the inside, and take your ass out of the house.

It was no less a struggle, feeling as if you had to drag your feet every step of the way to the meeting spot you all agreed to. Doesn't help that the weather today was muggier than usual despite the sky being overcast, the sun constantly peeking in and out from behind the thick clouds that drift by. You don't remember it calling for rain today so you keep your fingers crossed, not liking the way some of the clouds appear darker than the others and you not bothering to bring an umbrella.

Thankfully when you reached the subway station, you're greeted by two of your friends who are already there, their cheerfulness lifting your spirits slightly.

“Y/N!!” Rosa squeals delightedly, coming to embrace you with a big hug. You let out a small 'oof' at her enthusiasm but bring your arms up to squeeze her back too.

“Hey, oh man it feels like forever since we've seen each other.” You part from Rosa to give your other friend a hug.

“Right? Oh my god...when was it? Like, before the concert?” Mei points out. “What's even sadder is that we always talked about meeting up and doing something but just...never did, for like weeks.”

Rosa laughs, “That's basically what being an adult is.”

You continue to chat idly, waiting for the rest of your other friends to show and when they do, you head on over to your favourite cafe as your first pit stop. You catch up with everyone and mainly talk about what you were all up to, which you can't exactly disclose in too much detail beyond 'working and sleeping'. It leaves much to be desired for an engaging conversation and you find yourself struggling for the first time with this disconnect, made more obvious when your friends mention any latest BTS content they've seen.

“You haven't seen this yet?!” Jess exclaims to you. She flashes you a high-definition picture no doubt taken by a fan site of Jimin on her phone, probably in the midst of their EU leg of the tour. He looks like a literal angel, dressed in all white with arms outstretched in a way that any second, you would think wings would appear, the glare of the spotlight illuminating behind him as he gazes out into the sea of purple twinkling lights. It's a breathtaking photo but right now, it's so bittersweet to be looking at him like this. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It suddenly feels like you're living in a dream and the person you're trying to chase is nothing but a phantom, their face slowly fading from your memories and you're desperately trying to hold on.

You swallow, the tightness in your throat becoming uncomfortable as you force an apologetic smile on your face, straining. “I really didn't have time to catch up on anything lately.”

You follow your friends from one place to another afterwards, complacent in their decisions and growing more and more despondent in your responses. Whatever energy you had before to try and maintain a farce is long gone now and it doesn't go unnoticed by your group.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Sonya asks gently, falling back to where you're hanging near the front of a cute stationary shop you all decided to randomly stop by. You go to open your mouth, ready to deny but then stop yourself, seeing no use in it. So all that comes out is a defeated sigh that has your shoulders slumping.

“Sorry, I don't know, I felt fine when I left home but I guess not...”

“Did you want to maybe get some water? I have Advil in my bag if you want. Or if you want we can walk you back home?” Sonya suggests helpfully. You give her a weak smile, declining with a wave of your hand.

“No, it's okay. Maybe if I rest a little....”

“You don't have to force yourself if you're not feeling it. If you feel like you wanna go home then we don't mind.”

You still feel guilty even though you know Sonya means everything that she says. The guilt only intensifies when the rest of your friends gather from browsing or buying something, immediately worried once they've caught on the rather serious air surrounding you and Sonya. In the end, you had decided maybe it was better to call it quits here, not wanting to trouble or ruin what was supposed to be a fun outing between friends because you're getting too much in your head. After apologizing for having to leave early and fight off their insistence on walking you back to the subway station, you part ways.

You've ended up in the deeper parts of the city, so it would take about six stops for you to get to the station nearest to your place. First though, you had a bit of a walk, either to get back to the station you exited from or the next stop over three blocks up the street, usually something you wouldn't mind if not for the looming dark clouds above you that had taken over the sky completely, plunging the world around you in a deep gloom. With no sun in sight, it makes the summer solstice 6PM look like it's winter's.

You go at a brisk pace, choosing to go back the way you came since you're more familiar with that route. The wind begins to pick up, a sure sign of the coming storm and you dread being caught out at this rate. Up ahead is a stoplight, the one where you're supposed to cross the street at but you're tempted to just cut across the road now, wanting to save time. The traffic here isn't busy with hardly any cars passing through so once you see that it's a red light on both sides, you make a run for it.

You're just about halfway to the other side when you feel the toe of your shoes catching on the asphalt and you're suddenly stumbling forward with your momentum. You're bracing for the fall but before you could let out a gasp, a strange sensation passes over you, like being suspended in midair. It goes by so quickly that you don't have the time to register the impact it makes because a split second later, a black sedan barrels past you, honking loudly as it goes and so closely you think it would've grazed your nose.

Body rigid, you're frozen from the shock, heart pounding loudly and with a mind now kicked into flight or fight mode, you sprint the rest of the way on shaky, clumsy limbs. You nearly collapse once you've reached the safety of the other side, taking deep breaths to calm yourself and the adrenaline running through you.

Either you should've looked both ways more carefully or that asshole just blew through a red light going a hundred kilometres on an eighty speed limit.

You're gonna go with the asshole because you swear the lights were red. You made sure of it.

Straightening yourself, you hoist your tote bag up your shoulders again and continue to make your way down the street. By then, it has begun drizzling, the droplets falling so erratically and lightly that they get carried by the wind. It makes it hard to avoid and only serves to further irritate you. It's a straight walk from here, you don't think you have to worry about nearly dying again so you keep your head down, one hand raised in an attempt to shield yourself from the spattering rain. You turn the corner at the end of the block, peering up to see the tall station street sign looming ahead and you've never been more relieved, powering on to reach it if only to escape the steadily increasing downpour.

So caught up in closing the last bit of distance, you're jerked out of your focus when there was a loud shout of alarm.

“HEY WATCH IT!”

Instinctively, your steps slow, body turning towards the noise in trying to find the owner of the voice. Your eyes whip to see a few people huddling under an overhang to a high-rise building you passed but what's more concerning is where their gaze is focused – widen in fear, their necks craning up, and some even rushing towards your direction, waving frantically to get your attention. It's when you follow their line of sight do you understand why.

Three stories high you spot the outlines of glass panels that line the edges of the balcony, only to your horror, many of them were teetering precariously off of their hinges with no hopes of hanging on because seconds later, their weight gives way and two of them begin to free fall.

Right above you.

You hear rather than see the first one crashing onto the pavement mere inches behind you, the sound much like that of rolling thunder that you can easily mistaken it as part of the stormy weather. You think you feel the pinpricks of glass shards spraying up to scratch your legs but all you can think is where was the second panel? You feel like you can't move your legs fast enough, so frazzled with your mind racing to barely process what is happening and eyes searching wildly but seeing nothing as if you've been blinded.

A chill runs through you then, an icy cold grip that holds you hostage and you wonder idly if this is how you're really going to die. A poor, unfortunate girl who met her demise because of some rotten luck and a freak accident.

And there it was again, that weightless feeling surrounding you, except now there's a distinct tugging as you feel yourself being pulled backwards. All at once, a flash of light goes off right in front of you, shimmering so brilliantly in an arc shape that it has you shutting your eyes, hands thrown up in protection and a gust of air whistles past your ears along with another resounding crash. It's so strong you momentarily feel the rain stop falling around you and you trip backwards, landing on your behind in a crumpled mess.

When you finally open your eyes, you're staring at a pile of frosted glass right where you had been standing, the glittering shards curving outward as if something had forced it away. You can't stop the tremors that shake through your body, breath coming out in short gasps.

What was that just now? There's no way that couldn't have hit you, you practically had a target marker right over your head for it.

Your head is spinning, barely hearing how a small crowd begins to gather around you, some approaching you while there are others who are on their phones, no doubt calling the fire department to report the incident. You're helped to your feet, are asked if you're injured and if you needed medical help, all of which you answer no thoughtlessly. You're more concerned with something else.

There's something else at work here; the first time you would've brushed it off as a trick of your mind but this time, it's just too coincidental. You swivel your head around, not even sure what you're looking for but you can't stop the traitorous surge in hope within you.

You nearly miss it.

Through the dispersing crowd you see two shadowy figures, concealed in the depths of an alley, so well hidden thanks to the darkness of the looming clouds and the still cascading rain. You stare with baited breath, watching the scene unfold as one of the figure grips the other in their hand, raising them until their feet dangled off the ground. They struggle uselessly and claw at the strong hold to no avail. Then, with an inhumane strength, they are slammed into the wall as if they were a rag doll. But to your shock, the crumpled body dissolves in a flurry of ashes and smoke, a few flickers of orange light seeping through before disappearing like dying embers on coal. You dare not take your eyes away, much less blink in fear of it being merely an illusion.

Yet the image before you doesn't fade, even though it seems like you're the only one who can see it. You watch the way the now lone figure struggles to remain upright, a hand reaching up to grasp at their head as if suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. It's then you realize they had been wearing a hood because the dark fabric falls away then, revealing to you a pale face you had not seen in so long.

“Jimin....” His name falls from your trembling lips in a mere whisper before you can stop yourself, breath caught in your throat and as if he had heard you, his gaze whips to your direction.

Your eyes lock on the familiar glow of crimson. Your heart lurches.

And then he takes off.

Panicked, you scramble to push past the few lingering bodies out of your way, feet kicking into a dead sprint, eyes never leaving his retreating back. You rush into the alley without a second thought, weaving and dodging the waste, dumpsters and other things that were lost and abandoned there. You're panting in your efforts to keep up, barely having time to call out to him but try as you might, you cannot hope to catch up to someone who's abilities far outweighs your own and after minutes of winding and sharp turns, you lose sight of him.

You come to a halt, lungs burning from exertion as your eyes dart this way and that but come up empty in what you're looking for. You curse loudly, distress taking over as you grab a fistful of your own hair. After the adrenaline begins to die down, you begin to take in your surroundings. So caught up in your pursuit of him, you failed to notice the unfamiliar streets you've ended up on. You don't know how far you've strayed, can't tell whether going up or down would be the best option in finding your way back but above all, you can't believe you let him slip from your grasp like that.

“Fuck....!” You hiss again, hands balling themselves into fists. The boiling anger makes you tremble more than the cold rain that begins to soak into you; anger at yourself for being so helpless, anger at Jimin for how distant he's become with no explanation. Were you not worth telling anything important to? The thought quells the anger to a hurt and the realization that your fears are more than likely to be true. Yet still, you don't want to confirm them, stubborn to deny it until you get answers – you needed proof. And the only way you're going to get that is to get to the bottom of it, no matter what. With nothing more to gain standing there, you reluctantly turn back to the way you came, mind frayed at the seams from all that has happened.

You don't make it two steps before someone grabs you and your screams are smothered by a hand.

[yukipri]

On Koala and Fishman Karate - a One Piece Mermaid AU Story

Not an ask response, but here with another story which was posted last month on Patreon!

I never actually intended on writing this, because this was originally supposed to just be exposition leading up to Marco's Bauble 2, and kinda explaining why Luffy's being tutored in Fishman Karate. But, it ended up being too long and going off on WAY too many unrelated tangents, so I chopped it off and made it its own thing ^ ^;

Mostly introspective, with Koala x Luffy, mention of Sabo x Luffy, and some thoughts on Nami from Koala's perspective as well.

~~

~~

Koala gently nudges Luffy's hand a little higher, and the mermaid makes a tiny whine of frustration as she sways on her tail, trying her best to maintain the posture she's been taught. Luffy glares at her own fist with such adorable determined ferocity that Koala doesn't have the heart to tell her that she doesn't need to try so hard, and that if anything, staying relaxed is the point.

Koala's been trying to teach Luffy Fishman Karate during the few lulls between their adventures. She knows that the disciplined martial art is probably not Luffy's style, but Fishman Karate focusses fishmen and merfolks' innate sensitivity to water. It's honed for combat in this case, but it can be applied to daily life as well, which is why fishman karate is a regular part of grade school curriculum on Fishman Isand. When one lives surrounded entirely by water, ten thousand meters below sea level, it's remarkably beneficial to be in tune with it.

Even if Luffy never fully masters it, Koala's sure she can gain something of value to apply to her regular fighting style, and even if not, it's part of her heritage. It's why Koala had insisted on teaching her, and Sabo had grudgingly agreed (Koala knows the grudging part mostly comes from Sabo still being petty about being terrible at it himself. Which, shouldn't come as a surprise since fishmen arts are difficult for non fishmen and merfolk, but it gives Koala something to rub in his face, which is always wonderful).

It's nice, Koala thinks as she sings praises in Luffy's ear while fixing her posture once again. It's nice because even though Koala'll do any assignment thrown her way, and will do anything to further her primary goal of achieving justice for fishmen and merfolk, being an assistant Fishman Karate instructor is her actual formal position in the Revolutionary Army. It's so easy to forget, with the number of missions she's been on with her acting support for Sabo and others, and the increasing amount of time she spends away from Baltigo and her students. But suddenly, she's given an unexpected opportunity to actually practice and share her passion, and to someone who could really benefit from it too. It would be an utter waste for Luffy to not learn from Koala while they travel together.

(Even if it means Sabo sulks and stews with pathetically transparent jealousy over losing sibling bonding time. He can deal. He'll have plenty of time later.)

And well, Luffy's honestly a joy as a student too. Even if explanations mostly go over her head, she's got amazing physical intuition and picks things up fast. And she's so dedicated, staring at Koala with wide eyes like she holds the secrets to the universe when Koala shows her something new, always blurting out her awe exactly as she feels it and--it's endearing.

Luffy, everything about her, is honestly endearing.

The fishman karate tutoring sessions are honestly the only times Koala can have alone with the mermaid (or as alone as one can be, on the deck of a small vessel like Merry), especially without Mr. Nosy Possessive Big Bro butting in between them. So yes, maybe Koala enjoys spending time with Luffy for reasons other than just getting to do karate together, but she'll confess that to Sabo over her own dead body.

Not that Koala thinks it really matters; Sabo's already giving her the Suspicious Stink Eye (though to be fair, he gives that to everyone other than Ace). And yeah, in hindsight she honestly should have expected his suspicion, given how well her partner knows knows her dating history.

I'm warning you, Koala, Sabo'd grouched when they were alone, dropping his Cool Big Bro act to reveal the Shitty Little Dumpster Brat that Koala knows and grew up with. Don't even think about it with Luffy. Even if she's infinitely cuter than what were their names...Marinara and Cartwheels.

Their names were Marina and Kara. And I don't date every mermaid I meet!

Koala's honestly offended, but decides to let it go; Sabo's overwhelmed by his sudden wave of previously repressed Brotherly Love, and he's still not entirely rational (not that rational's a particularly good word to apply to him at any time). And she doesn't have a thing for fishgals and mermaids, she swears. She just happens to spend a disproportionate amount of time working with them, given her specific focus in the Revolutionary Army. It just makes sense.

Or fine, maybe she has a slight thing for them. And, well, maybe Luffy's her type. Just a little bit. On top of being, well, a super cute pupil. But Koala's not going to do anything, other than enjoy spending time together! Is she not allowed even that?

But, the point is, Sabo's being ridiculous! Koala's been his partner for years! Doesn't he trust Koala enough to know that she'd treasure Luffy, in the very hypothetical situation they ever dated?

(Koala knows the answer to that, knew it the moment she saw Sabo's expression melt as he cupped Luffy's face, and sighs. She never imagined she'd be love rivals against Sabo of all people, but well, shit happens.)

Anyway, Fishman Karate times are Koala's times with Luffy, and if Sabo comes poking his snooty little nose into their sessions, well, Koala's happy to volunteer him as a punching bag. Which he knows, hence why he's not here.

In fact, the deck is mostly empty, the other members of their limited crew occupying themselves elsewhere. Their sole observer is the navigator, sitting by the rail and marking up some maps, seemingly not paying attention.

But Koala knows that Nami's very much attuned to their lesson, her head jerking every time a particularly hard smack lands.

Koala doesn't blame her. She's aware of what Arlong did, had had to swallow bile when she accessed the full report when it came through, days before their fateful meeting with Luffy and the ASL pirates. She knows what Nami must think of fishmen, and to know that her impression came from former Sun Pirates leaves Koala feeling a special kind of numb.

Because that isn't what they're like at all, she wants to say. The Sun Pirates, to Koala, are a gleaming example of why fishmen deserve better, and are victims of human prejudice and ignorance. It's terrible that they mean the opposite to Nami. But given her experiences, Koala knows she has no right to preach at her. If anything, she just feels sad, and bitter, knowing that the cycle of hatred can come back to hurt those so very far away from where it started.

Koala guides Luffy's arms into position again, and despite Luffy struggling to remember everything mentally, the young mermaid's body easily accepts the form. It's an art designed for her kind after all, unlike the marine martial arts that Sabo said their grandfather had beaten into them. Koala's sure Luffy struggled with those, unable to fully copy moves that require certain feet positions, and an assumption of a more human perception of the world. But this, Fishman Karate, was made for her.

Nami twitches again, and Koala makes a note of it. She knows Nami has likely seen the form before; there were several martial artists in Arlong's group.

She knows it's difficult to watch, but admires Nami's stubborn determination in doing so. Koala's sure that part of Nami's reason for watching is to make sure Koala doesn't teach anything unsavory to Luffy, and she respects that wariness, because they haven't known each other long enough for Nami to open up to Koala and her history of friendship with fishmen.

But, and it's only a guess, but Koala thinks Nami also watches to try to learn and accept this part of her captain as well. Koala might not be important, but Luffy is the captain Nami's pledged to follow, for all that Ace is also her captain. And whether she likes it or not, Luffy's a mermaid, which, while not the exact same as fishmen, has plenty of things in common.

Now that she's no longer isolated on an island in East Blue, heading closer to Fishman Island which they'll inevitably have to cross in order to enter the New World, Luffy's learning more about herself. Specifically, the mer part of herself. And she'd be doing that, regardless of whether Koala's there to help her along.

Koala thinks it wise that Nami's forcing herself to learn alongside Luffy, so that there are no surprises, and that one day, she doesn't wake up and realize that her captain shares far too much with her tormentors for her to handle. Koala hopes that Nami's love and acceptance for Luffy will plant a seed of hope that eventually helps her accept other fishmen and merfolk, to see that they're not all Arlong--but Koala can wait.

~~

~~

Thanks so much for reading if you got through this~! <3 As always any comments/thoughts are super appreciated!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 1: Empty Spaces

<Previous / Next>

Or read on Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Sans notices something’s wrong.

Sans lounged against the counter, lazily trailing a finger through the condensation left by the glass of milk he’d ordered. It was the only beverage he ever ordered besides ketchup, a fact that amused the other patrons far more than it did he or Grillby himself; the long-time bartender wasn’t one to judge, something Sans appreciated about him. He looked up as his fiery friend placed another plate of fries before him and straightened, ready to dig in. As he reached for the ketchup, light caught his eye, and he couldn’t help glancing over as someone checked their phone and the time flickered by briefly.

Sans froze.

It was a full thirty minutes after when Papyrus always came in to interrupt his break. He lowered a brow and glanced over his shoulder to scan the restaurant and street outside, but there was no sign of someone who was always trying to be noticed. Sans shrugged off his unease and turned back to his meal slowly, and noticed Grillby giving him a look.

‘Is everything alright?’ he signed, his hands flickering as he chose to speak with them instead of his crackling, distorted voice. ‘Isn’t Papyrus usually here by now?’

The curse of being the most regular of regulars--Sans grumbled inwardly before replying. “yeah. maybe he finally realized keeping me out of here is never gonna work.”

The closest patrons chuckled, though Grillby didn’t seem amused.

‘I see. If you need anything else, let me know.’

“of course, pal. you know i always do.”

Sans would have happily stayed at Grillby’s all day—he preferred the bar’s lively atmosphere to being alone with his thoughts. Cheering other people up with his bad jokes and low-brow gags always made it worthwhile. But hours passed and the dog guard changed multiple times without a single remark on his brother. Grillby was giving him increasingly concerned looks, so Sans decided it was time to check on him. There was no way Papyrus could've gotten into too much trouble—they’d lived in Snowdin for years now, and there was no evidence the anomaly had become active again, so...

He left the restaurant with promises to return soon and headed out onto the road. His brother’s daily routine was always the same, so it was easy to guess what he might be up to. It was just after one, so by about this time it should be his fourth round of puzzle calibration. Sans didn’t know how Papyrus did it—he managed to be so thorough, so exacting, never once looking at something that hadn’t changed a bit since his last visit and thinking it didn’t need inspecting again. If it were up to him, well, he just didn’t have that kind of energy anymore. Even shuffling through the snow today was wearing him out. All that dedication... Man, Papyrus was really cool.

He crossed the randomized tile puzzle and had just set foot on the path beyond it when he paused. Slowly, he turned, eyes roving over the plastic squares and taking in every detail. There were thin traces of snow left on them in little arcs. Papyrus never let anything obscure his puzzles unless that was part of the puzzle. Someone had cleared this hastily and without much care--not Papyrus' style at all. Brows furrowed, Sans turned to study the trail ahead of him. The snow lay unbroken as far as he could see down the path.

Better do this the smart way. Sans took a step forward, and space-time snapped around him. His sentry station sat empty, just as he’d left it, the only footprints around it his own. Sans took another step, and walked into the next section. Still no footprints. He turned back, and entered a small clearing that until now had laid untouched. Wow, it looked like even the teenagers that messed around out here hadn’t gotten to it yet. Last night's snowstorm must've chased everyone indoors.

Sans made it back to the tile puzzle without seeing a single hint that anyone but him had traversed the forest beyond. Papyrus never left anything unfinished, especially not the favorite part of his day.... Maybe he'd gotten sick? It was unlikely, but... Sans was back home with a click, and found all the rooms empty. Okay, so he wasn’t home. Papyrus was his own person, he could change his habits if he wanted to… Maybe he’d gone to talk to Undyne again.

“Haven’t seen him at all,” Undyne replied when he’d caught up to her. She was practicing lunges at the edge of a waterfall, which looked both incredibly cool and extremely dangerous. “You mean to tell me neither of you have been at your stations all day?”

“guess not, but i can promise you this is weird for me too,” Sans answered dryly, “and i don’t make promises lightly. too much responsibility, y'know?”

Undyne drew back and faced him, planting one hand on her hip while the other still grasped her spear. “Well, I can’t divert the rest of the Snowdin unit to look for him if that’s what you want, but… I know! I’ll call him.”

She pulled out her phone and dialed, then listened to it ring once, twice… three times… four… and never pick up. She stared at the phone for a moment before hitting redial, and they listened to the tones chime again to arrive at the same result. Sans ignored the sense of dread starting to prickle in his soul.

“Your brother always picks up after two rings, right? He told me that, after he gave me his number. Why wouldn’t he answer?” Undyne uttered, her eye darting between the screen and him.

“dunno. same reason he didn’t finish his puzzle maintenance, same reason he didn’t come get me at grillby’s. he’s... busy.”

Undyne grunted. “Sure. Well, keep looking and let me know when you find him. He may not be a member of the Guard yet, but he’s still a citizen... and my friend, so… y’know?”

“i mean. he’s my brother, so. i do know,” Sans replied with a wink. “when i know, you’ll know, and then everyone’ll know, y’know?”

“Oh my GOD!” Undyne roared, hurling her spear into the depths of a distant garbage heap. “JUST GO FIND HIM ALREADY!!!”

Sans didn’t need any more permission than that—he’d planned on continuing his search regardless. He put up a lazy salute, then headed out. He surveyed Snowdin again, and asked his Hotland customers at the hot dog stand if they’d seen his brother as they commuted home. He was considering the logistics of milk carton-missing posters at his Waterfall station when Undyne marched up, her armor clanging its way into his thoughts.

“Any luck?” she asked wearily, and he shrugged.

“i won a game of cards against myself, does that count?”

She dragged a hand across her face. “No. You mean you found no evidence of him at all?"

"nope. guess i can only wait to see if something turns up."

"So you're just gonna give up on finding your brother then?”

Something twisted painfully in Sans’ chest. “... no. but if he hasn’t shown up by now i don’t see what else we can do. maybe he's planning an epic prank.”

Undyne's scowl twitched briefly into a smile. “… I guess. I mean, if nothing else, he’ll probably just come home tonight, right? Anyway, I actually came by to tell you to go home. Night shift’ll take it from here.”

“thanks. see ya bright and early tomorrow,” Sans said, rising from his seat and heading down the passage.

“Oh, and tell Papyrus to call me when he gets back! I have some words for him!” Undyne shouted, and he gave her a thumbs up before rounding the corner right into his living room.

Sans dozed off sometime that evening, and woke up disoriented to find he’d slept halfway through the next morning. So much for getting to work early, and... there was still no sign of his brother. He debated whether to slip back into sleep or to get up and look again, and languished on the couch for a while, waffling back and forth...

Sans shuffled through the snow, unease nestled firmly in his ribs as he passed other sentry stations and puzzles frosted by a new coat of snow. Pawprints indicated the other guards had been through on their rounds, and there were a few tracks he recognized from the various teenagers, but nothing that matched Papyrus' boots. He reached the randomized tile puzzle again, looked it over, and slowly sank down, legs folded under him. Reaching out, he took up some of the snow in his hand and sifted through it. It all seemed to pack like snow, and not dust.

Maybe Sans could have dealt with dust. At least he’d have an answer and could muddle through until a reset brought everything back, but the anomaly hadn’t been active lately so he couldn’t be sure how long he’d have to wait. He’d still have to check a couple other spots to be sure, but at least it seemed like Papyrus wasn’t dead. In either case he just had to wait, and he was pretty good at that.

He sifted through other locations on the puzzle deck but came up with snow every time, and with a weary sigh decided it was time to head to Grillby’s. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell the other regulars… surely news had spread by now, so there’d be talk. Maybe he'd tell them Papyrus was on vacation.

[merakiui]

hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!

(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)

Courtesy Coffee (Sian)

You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.

“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”

Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.

Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”

He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”

“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”

“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”

“I offered to get you another shirt.”

“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”

“Suck it up then!”

“No!”

You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”

“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”

Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage. 

“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”

He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.

You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.

You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.

No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.

The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.

“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”

The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...

Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.

"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”

Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”

“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”

“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”

“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”

“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”

Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.

You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.

Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.

“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”

Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.

“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”

“Y-Yeah. So what?”

“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”

“Are you getting in or not?”

“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”

He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”

You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”

The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.

The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.

“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”

“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”

“My friend Youssef.”

“Oh.”

“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”

“I already know.”

“Really? Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”

“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”

He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”

“Like you could do any better.”

“I can because I was sober.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”

“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”

“If you’re offering...”

“I wasn’t offering!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.

Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.

He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.

But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.

“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”

“It’s...fine.”

You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.

“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.

Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.

“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.

Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...

------

“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”

But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.

It’s not a date. Act natural.

You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”

You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”

“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”

“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”

“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”

“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”

“What? No way. I’ll pay.”

“As if! I’m treating you.”

“You already bought me clothes.”

“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”

“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”

“Just accept my kindness!”

Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?

When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.

“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“

“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.

“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”

“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”

“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”

“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”

“Aw, so you do care.”

“I don’t. Get lost.”

You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident. 

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”

A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.

Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.

“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”

Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”

“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”

"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”

“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”

“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.

“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”

“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”

No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.

“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“

“Shut up!”

If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?

Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.

It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.

He couldn’t be any further from the truth.