#some days I just. remember they even exist and were at one point official somewhere when I think they're actually not official (??)

[sparklingpax]

the way omni productions was like “ah yes, and here we’ve got the fearsome...” 

*checks smudged notes* 

“...deathsanrus”

[romanhughesy]

Uh Huh (Are you up/Are you down?)

It's your first time meeting Quinn's brothers, but he can't find you in the club.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: alcohol/clubs, handful of y/n's used. slightly suggestive?

Quinn is confused. 

He sweeps his eyes between the doors, the bar, and the handful of booths towards the front of the club, back and forth like one of these times, he’ll turn his head, and you’ll appear. The plan was your idea, after all. 

His brothers were coming to visit, and trips to his side of the continent were kind of a big deal. It’s your first time meeting them. You and Quinn had been official for eight-ish months now, and he wouldn’t say it’s super serious, but he wouldn’t say it isn’t serious either. He really likes you, and sees a lot of potential in your relationship. But, the pair of you are still working through the early days milestones, like this. You were, understandably, nervous about meeting his family, even if it was just his brothers and not his parents, yet. Jack and Luke would be in town for a few days, and you insisted that while you wanted to meet them, you also wanted the brothers to have plenty of time together, just the three of them. While he searches for you, letting Jack get their first round from the bar, he remembers your guy’s conversation about the visit. You held his hand, eyes searching his face, and reassured him that you understand how hard it is for him to spend most of his time so far away, while Jack and Luke live in the same apartment. You felt it was important for the brothers to just exist together, without trying to fit a new person into the dynamic the whole time. Quinn couldn’t say much, but he pulled you closer and ran a hand through your hair, feeling seen and cared for in your particular way. Quinn’s never had any bad experiences with girls meeting his family, but he’s heard horror stories. The consideration and empathy you hold for others is one of his favorite traits of yours, so he should’ve expected it to extend to his brothers, but it touched him nonetheless. 

“There’s Petey!” Jack exclaims, suddenly back at Quinn’s side. He startles out of his thoughts, but follows Jack’s pointing finger and sees Petey, Conor, and Brock emerge through the crowd between them and the door. His team and his brothers mingle, loose hugs, daps, and chirping, and then Conor, of course it’s Conor, notices Quinn’s split attention. “Huggy, where’s your girl? I thought you were showing her off tonight?” Now, everyone looks at him, expectantly, but he actually has no clue where you are. Well, some clue. 

See, when you both talked about Jack and Luke coming to visit, you mentioned that it’d be nice to meet them for the first time while doing some kind of larger group activity. Some of Quinn’s friends (his teammates, let’s be honest), and some of your friends, getting together. The suggestion was another reminder to Quinn that you might really be a bit of a genius. He’d have time with just you and his brothers together later in the visit, but since your girls mostly knew his guys, and his guys knew his brothers, it’d spare the awkwardness of the two of you just sitting around and getting interrogated about your relationship by his nosy brothers. You could connect with them, but casually and the whole group would all have lots of other people to bounce off of. Jack and Luke would definitely want to go out while they were here, anyway, so great idea, really. Except, he can’t find you anywhere. 

He figured you had to be somewhere in the club. You’d texted him a chaotic group selfie while you and your friends were getting ready. You’re holding your phone to the mirror, making a kissy face, while a couple of your friends pose and a couple more are mid-makeup application. He’d smiled at his phone during dinner, and gotten ribbed for it by Luke, of all people. His baby brother. You’d followed the message up a little later with a random emoji, and he couldn’t help but smile, again. Not one for spending much time on your phone, especially when with friends, you’d quickly send off an emoji or two as a form of checking in. But, your picks were never relevant to what you were doing or where you were, which always amused Quinn. He’d assumed you made it to the club, because you sent him the abacus emoji and a red heart, but he couldn’t exactly say that to everyone looking at him for an answer right now. So, he smooths it over. 

“She got here with her friends a while ago, but I haven’t spotted them yet. Maybe they’re outside.” Quinn knows he sounds a bit lame, but it’s a bit much for his brothers and close friends to give him those looks. Luke turns to Jack, smirking. “Dude, I’ve been telling you she’s not real. You’re gonna have to pay up.” Quinn very narrowly resists the urge to try and headlock both his brothers at once, but Brock is helpful, as always. “Nah, we’ve met her. She’s cool. Kinda too cool for Quinner. Maybe he’s paying her?” Okay, maybe Brock isn’t always helpful. 

Shaking his head, Quinn tries to regain his control over the unruly group he calls his loved ones. “Let’s just get another round, I’ll keep an eye out. They’re here, somewhere.” Conor offers to claim an open table closer to the dance floor, while someone else buys him a drink. “I’ll go with you!” Luke says, with a wry smile. He doesn’t even need to sneak around in the Canadian club like he does in Jersey, he’s just a freeloader. Whatever. Quinn will make Jack pay for his drink, payback for taking bets on whether or not his girlfriend is real. He didn’t really anticipate Jack carrying a tray of shots back to the table, Quinn balancing all three brothers’ beers, but Jack makes some cheesy comment about them being “for the ladies” that Quinn doesn’t want to dig into any further. Petey is the first person to grab one of the shots off the tray, which feels a little bit like payback again. Quinn laughs, and takes one for himself. 

The boys settle into easy chatter, and whenever you and your friends turn up, Quinn thinks the night will be pretty close to perfect. You compliment him so well, and he sees it the most when you’re at his side in social situations, easily holding your own around his rambunctious friends. You’re always good for a laugh or a well timed joke, but also attentive, and, as far as Quinn can tell, content to sit and listen even when the topic doesn’t particularly interest you. You’ve impressed his friends more than a few times with your memory, following up about family, little injuries, or dates the next time you see them. They can all tell how much you care about Quinn, and bask in some of your care with their proximity to him. He asked you about it once. Your ease, and seemingly genuine interest in whatever people tell you. Quinn is the kind of person who hates small talk more than almost anything, and you’re the kind of person who asks follow up questions when the grocery store cashier tells you about their beach vacation. At first it confused him, but the day he asked, you smiled softly and told him: “I just love people. Some people say there isn’t enough kindness or love in the world, but I see it in the tiniest stuff. So I just try to give all my extra love to the universe. It makes me happy.” The axis of his world tilted, just a bit, but he definitely felt his heart stumble. You guys were even less serious then, but the idea of a person like that enjoying his company, choosing him, it made Quinn warm all over. 

Jack presses another shot glass into his hand, and Quinn shifts his focus back in front of him. Conor raises his, grinning and toasting to the “Hughesapalooza”, as “Hughes Bowl” is apparently reserved just for the ice. Quinn throws back his shot, swallowing the liquor and his grimace, and takes another fruitless look around the club. As his eyes focus back on the table, he sees Jack craning his neck, looking around Petey’s head towards the dance floor. Quinn furrows his brow. He doesn’t quite think his brother is in the same search party as him. Boeser must catch his expression, because he puffs out a laugh. “If y/n doesn’t turn up soon, she’s not gonna meet Jack because he’ll never make it off the dance floor.” The middle Hughes whips his head back, caught, but his smile is more cunning than guilty. “Can you blame me?” He answers easily, throwing another look over his shoulder. “Check out that group of girls by the DJ booth. They seem like a great time.” The rest of the guys rustle around to peek, so Quinn looks too. He’s not really curious, but if it shows on his face that he doesn’t even feel like he needs to look at other women while waiting on you, he’ll get chirped within an inch of his life. He squints, eyes flitting over the crowd until he finds the group of girls his brother has to be talking about. They’re in a circle right in front of the DJ booth, loose enough for dancing but tight enough to keep out unwanted partiers, and Jack’s right. They’re definitely having fun, and looking good doing it. The way they’re dancing, grabbing each other’s hands and waists, smiling and singing along, they don’t seem to realize they’re the center of attention. It’s almost riveting, even to Quinn. The one directly in front of the DJ booth, facing them, and the rest of the club, twists her hips just so, tossing her hair to the beat. The lights are bright, and color shifting, but the reflection off her hair as she tosses it… the cut… her clothes…

“Is that…?” Petey’s question trails off, but his teammates have already averted their eyes from the group, back to their captain. His brothers follow suit, albeit slower, and Luke almost immediately puts the pieces together. “THAT’S Y/N?” He shouts, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Jack laughs, almost a scoff, but when he scans everyone else’s expression, his brows shoot up. He looks at his older brother, disbelieving, and Quinn can’t help his smug smile. “Too cool for Quinn is right.” He mutters, grabbing a shot off the emptying tray and tossing it back. Quinn rolls his eyes, but he does let out a chuckle. The laugh helps vent a bit of the relief flooding through him. 

Quinn trusts you completely, and likes how independent you are, but after an hour or so of little, fleeting doubts crossing his mind, he can’t deny the feelings that bubble up in him now that they’ve found you. You, looking gorgeous and enjoying yourself with your friends— he definitely noticed how there were no men anywhere near your circle— facing the whole room, waiting for him. The boys rib him for the dopey smile on his face as he watches you move, but it really couldn’t matter less. He stands, giving the boys a smirk and a “be right back” over his shoulder. Their eyes narrow when he heads towards the bar and not the dance floor. “That’s weird, right?” Petey looks between the table, Quinn, and back at y/n, confused. 

At the bar, Quinn leans on the edge and tries to steal glances of you through all the other bodies. Your group is still noticeable, but come in and out of focus with all the other motion around. He turns his attention back to the bar, nodding to the bartender. “Hey man, can you get a round of tequila shots out to that group of girls right in front of the DJ booth? And let them know they came from that table,” Quinn points to his friends and brothers, but only Brock is watching him. Boeser raises his brow, but turns back to his conversation with Luke, seemingly uninterested. The bartender’s also not roused, blandly replying, “Sure, man. But I can’t take them off your tab if they’re not interested.” Quinn thinks laughing would make him look cocky, or like an asshole, or both, so he just nods, says “No worries,” and gives the bartender his last name for the tab. The Hughes name apparently does interest the guy a little bit, if his surprised expression is anything to go off of, but he says nothing else to Quinn as he pours the shots, and gets the attention of a barback. 

Heading back to the table, Quinn ignores all the boys’ questions and angles his chair so he can see you better, waiting. A minute or so later, he sees someone get your attention from the DJ booth, handing down the shots and pointing in his direction. His stomach tenses, not unlike waiting for puck drop, but explodes into butterflies the moment you spot him. Even from the table, he could see your squinted eyes and furrowed brow lift, suspicion giving way to surprise as a big grin takes over your face. He smiles back, giving you a wave that you, and all of your friends, return. You hold up your finger, shoot your shot, and gather your girls in record time. He’s pretty impressed, and his brothers’ dropped jaws only make him feel even more smug. They love to talk about all the attention they get from girls in Jersey, but he can see Jack and Luke both steel themselves as the most beautiful girl in the room, Quinn’s, leads her pretty friends to their table. 

Quinn reacts instinctively, standing and closing the last step between your bodies, arms wrapping around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You take a step back, beaming up at him. “Hi, love! You guys just get here?” You sweep your gaze over the rest of the group, eyes twinkling, but they widen when Conor answers for Quinn. “We’ve been here for like an hour!” 

“No way!” You gasp, looking back at Quinn, who nods, unable to suppress his smile. “I was facing the door the whole time: I was looking out for you guys!”  You insist, but your tone is still bright as you apologize for keeping the guys waiting. Jack and Luke stand to greet you, and you leave Quinn’s arms to hug them both. “No sweat, you guys looked like you were having a ton of fun.” Quinn can tell by Jack’s tone that he’s teasing a little bit, and apparently, you can too, because he sees your cheeks flush even in the dark club. Your best friend drapes her arm around you, grinning. “She doesn’t come out to dance very often, but when she does she’s got more energy than the rest of us combined.” Quinn watches you flush a little darker, adorable, but you push down your embarrassment and grab the hand of one of your other friends, introducing your group to Quinn’s. Most of them already know each other, but it helps break the ice. Quinn catches one of your quieter friends sidling up to Petey after saying hello to everyone else, and he raises his brow at the blond, who looks away quickly. Alright. 

Quinn offers your friend with the highest heels his chair, cracking a smile at the pure relief on her face, and slides in closer to you. You’re chatting to Jack and Luke about what the brothers did for dinner, easy as ever, and Quinn almost regrets wrapping his arm around your waist, only because it turns his brothers’ attention back onto him. Jack looks him up and down, gaze almost disapproving, which throws Quinn off for a second. “So you’ve been keeping the coolest girl you’ve ever dated all to yourself for almost a year now? How dare you! Y/N would love a Michigan vacation, wouldn’t you, Y/N?” Quinn’s eyes roll, ready to defend himself, but you beat him there. “Don’t be mean!” You lightly chastise, like Jack’s your own younger brother. Quinn almost snorts. “Quinn’s tried inviting me so many times. I don’t get enough time off work, and I don’t want to cut into your family time. You guys spend so much time apart, I worry about throwing the vibe off when you guys should just be enjoying each others’ company!” Quinn knows your feelings on this too well. He has invited you to travel with him a handful of times in the last few months, and still he accepts your reasoning. But, he also has missed you terribly every time he leaves and knows that his family will love you. Case in point, Luke runs a hand through his hair and says “I just met you, and I can already tell your vibe is way better than Quinn’s. Next time, you can come visit and leave him behind to go to work for you!” 

“Hey!” Quinn interjects, not actually bothered but having to disagree, on principle. You place a hand on your chest, mock affronted. “You’d leave out your private chef and best boat driver? Doesn’t sound like a good vacation at all.” Jack lets out an honest-to-god cackle, and Quinn slumps against you a little. “Not you too,” he complains, quietly smoothing over when your soft hand pats his cheek.  Jack, clearly pleased that you’ll poke fun at Quinn, changes the subject by asking about what you do for work, and you all chat for a while, conversation flowing naturally. 

The smaller conversations merge, and soon enough, everyone is shooting the shit and the tray of shots is cleared. Brock nominates Conor and Luke to go get more, grinning wryly. Conor takes it like a champ, and drags along Luke, who’s taking it like the baby of the family. The two of them have barely made it to the bar when a new song starts, and best your friend leaps up from her chair, grabbing your hand. “Oh my god, we have to dance!” You turn to Quinn, wearing an excited smile with an apologetic edge, still clearly thinking about leaving him hanging earlier, and he melts. “Go have fun, baby. We’ll be right here.” You beam for real, this time, kiss his cheek, and Quinn watched you follow a couple of your girls to the floor. Jack smiles at him across the table, “She’s special, huh?” He says, like he’s reading his older brother’s mind. Quinn just nods, watching you dance. He was right, earlier. Now that you’re around, fitting into his life like all of the empty spaces were made for you, he’s having basically a perfect night.

a/n: hiiiii lol i haven't written any kind of fic in FOREVER so if u made it through this that's cool let me know what u think!! quinn hughes brainrot is too strong i just think about him. all the time. title is from "uh huh" by tinashe stream her new album QUANTUM BABY okay bye <333

[ghostofskywalker]

Sweet Dreams

Hunter/Reader

Fictober Day 1 of 31

Words: 914

Summary: You get a visitor in your bunk for the night, and Hunter can't help but find it adorable.

Note: happy october everyone! i'll be posting 31 fics for 31 different characters this month!

Clone Troopers Masterlist

The sound of someone whispering your name and the feeling of that same person shaking you awake was the first thing you registered when you opened your eyes. The bunk area of the Marauder was still completely dark, indicating that it was not yet morning, so you were a little confused about the reason you were being woken up at this point.

Blinking your eyes open (and trying to keep them from immediately closing again), you could see the faint outline of someone next to your bed. “You need smmm?” you managed to croak out, voice heavy with sleep. There weren’t too many rules on this ship, but one of the ones that did exist (and was usually well-respected among the squad) was the one about not waking you up, unless there was a serious problem (like fire, death, or ambush).

In the haze of your sleepy state, you could hear Omega’s voice, and as the world came into focus you could see that it was indeed the young girl who had woken you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately snapping awake when you noticed the tearful expression on her face.

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted softly. “And I know you said-”

You reached out to take her hand. “I remember,” you said, shifting so that there was more space next to you in your bunk. “Do you want to lay with me for a while?”

Omega nodded, immediately crawling in next to you. A little bit after she had started traveling with you and the Bad Batch, you had all had a conversation about nightmares. When the other members of the batch had left the area, you had softly offered that if she ever had a nightmare and she wanted some company or wanted to be somewhere else, she had full permission to just crawl into your bunk, whether you were in there or not. At first she had tried to say that your offer wasn’t necessary, but softened when you talked about having nightmares yourself, and the two of you agreed that even big kids could be scared sometimes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked as she got settled next to you, and you wrapped your arm around her once she had gotten comfortable.

“Not really.” Her voice was soft and slightly shaky, and you just smiled as you brought your arm up to run through her hair, the soothing gesture bringing a smile to her face.

“That’s fine,” you whispered. “I’m here if you change your mind, but it’s okay if you just want to stay here too.”

She nodded, and you could see (even in the dark of the ship) that she was growing more and more tired. You brought your blanket up to cover more of her body than it had been before, and the sound of your soft hums guided her to sleep, with you falling back asleep right beside her.

***

As Hunter stared out at the blue streaks of hyperspace passing by, he tried to keep his fatigue at bay. If it were up to him, right now he would be snuggled up in his bunk, fast asleep as someone else took a shift making sure that nothing in the cockpit blew up while they soared between systems. But unfortunately it was his turn to spend half of the night awake, and that dream could not be a reality for another hour or so.

Well, if it was really up to him, he would be snuggled up next to you. While he did not yet have the official title of “boyfriend,” something serious was certainly developing between you and him, and sometimes the two of you shared a bunk (something he secretly hoped happened every night). He didn’t think his brothers knew anything about it, but he wasn’t sure.

By the time Echo stepped into the cockpit to relieve him of his “shift,” Hunter was yawning and could barely find the ability to stay awake. He nodded at his brother in thanks as he got up to head back to the bunks, but as he walked down the hall, he could have sworn that he heard Echo say something about not being able to sleep in his bunk, which he just barely acknowledged before stepping into the room. Suddenly, his brother’s comment made both more sense and less sense (if that even made sense at all).

Hunter’s bunk (as expected) was completely empty, but he finally found the answers to his questions when his head turned to look at your bunk.

Omega was cuddled up next to you, and the two of you had similar expressions of tranquility on your faces. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the scene, and there was a part of him that wanted to see if he could get into bed as well, to try and wrap his arms around both of you. But he knew (as did Echo, apparently) that he wouldn’t be able to do so without disturbing you, and so Hunter decided to sleep in his own bunk for the night.

As he fell asleep, he tried not to think about the fact that he had apparently not been as secret in his affections as he previously thought, and it was likely that everyone on the ship knew something about his affinity for you.

And of course, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you and Omega looked cuddled up together.

- the end - 

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[notsoattractivearenti]

Polar Opposites (Christian Pulisic x Reader) - Part 1

WC: 1.4K

Warnings: curse words

A/N: Finally decided to make a series for Christian 😁 Enemies to lovers is my favorite trope, so writing one is very exciting! This series is a mix of angst and fluff, and this first part is like an introduction. Hope you guys enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts through reply/reblog/ask ❤️ If you want me to include you in the taglist just let me know! Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 |

---

You have met Christian a few times before, since your best friend Claire was dating his best friend, Nick. But the first time you talked to him, you just knew you could never get along with him. You felt like you had literally nothing in common with him, and your first interaction did not go well. The one thing you both share is the strong annoyance towards one another. You love Nick, but you still couldn’t figure out how someone as nice, sweet and outgoing as him could be friends with Christian – no, not just friends, but best friends??? Felt so random but it’s real. They seemed inseparable, and you just couldn’t understand their bond.

You are very sociable, you love meeting new people. You consider yourself as a talkative, friendly and funny person. Meanwhile, Claire is more shy, sweet, and kind of quiet but once she feels comfortable with someone, she’s not that quiet anymore. You and Claire have been best friends since high school, and you couldn’t imagine a life without her. You’ve heard about how platonic soulmates exist, and you are 100% sure you have found yours. Between you and Claire, one’s personality complements the other’s. You remembered the time when Claire introduced you to Nick, you thought about how perfect those two were together and they still are. You knew how many guys wanted to date Claire but none of them were the right match, until she met Nick.

The first time you met Christian was at a dinner. It was shortly after Nick and Claire became official, and Claire thought a dinner with their best friends was a good idea. Nick introduced him to you, and you were ready to get to know him – as a friend. But that night, he was so reserved, and you couldn’t really stand such a person. He was distant and it looked like his mind was somewhere else but he seemed to get along just fine with Claire even though he barely talked. Despite feeling a bit unsure, you thought there was no harm in trying to be friends with him simply because he is Nick’s best friend. You tried to get to know him by asking some ‘general’ questions – just like how you used to talk to new people, but he responded like he couldn’t care less. At one point, you finally had enough. When Nick and Claire left the table for a minute, you moved your chair a little closer and confronted him.

“Dude, what is the matter with you? I’m just trying to be friendly over here!”

“By being extremely nosy?” he said as he rolled his eyes.

 “Uh, what the fuck?” You were really offended by his reaction. You didn’t expect to be called ‘nosy’ because you knew you weren’t at all.

“Christian, I thought we could be friends because you and Nick are close. But obviously, you’re not fucking interested. Try not to be so goddamn rude, pal.”

In response, he gave you a side eye without saying a word. His arms were crossed, he clearly wasn’t interested. You were so irritated by him, you angrily moved your chair back while mumbling “asshole”.

For the rest of the dinner, you acted like nothing happened. You didn’t want to make a scene, so you were just talking and laughing with Claire and Nick as usual while ignoring Christian’s existence. Since that day, you barely talked to Christian even though you’ve seen him again after.

---

A few months ago, Nick came to your place to talk to you. He looked so nervous and more serious than he usually was, and you didn’t know why. You were afraid that something bad was coming, but you didn’t want to read too much into it.

“Y/N, I want to tell you something important.”

“Umm, okay...” You gulped, then anxiously sat down, “what’s up Nick?”

“I’m going to ask Claire to marry me. And as her long-time best friend, I want to ask for your blessing and if you don’t mind, your help on planning the proposal too. I want everything to be perfect for my perfect woman.”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“WHAT? Nick!!! Fuck you scared me!!” you yelled and jumped off your seat. “Of course you have my blessing!!! And I will help you!!! Oh my God, I’m so happy for you two!!!” You were practically screaming into his ears and gave Nick a long, big hug, you were truly excited for them.

You knew basically everything about Claire, including her dream proposal scene and her dream engagement ring. So you told Nick every little detail, and he was so thrilled and sort of relieved he had your help because he was pretty overwhelmed by his own expectations – as he said, he wanted everything to be perfect for Claire. It was hard for you to keep that huge secret, but you didn’t want to ruin one of Claire’s biggest days of her life.

---

The day has finally come. You helped with every single thing needed that day to make sure it went well – you really wanted your best friend to have her dream proposal with his dream man. You arrived at the proposal spot, it was at a beautiful flower garden which Claire loves to call “her happy place”. It was a quiet, peaceful afternoon, and the sun was about to set – you really, really loved the scenery. Nick was so nervous and you were walking towards him as you saw Christian coming towards him. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh, then whispered to yourself, “fuck, I forgot that piece of shit was gonna be here.”

“Hey Nick!” You came up to Nick and tapped his shoulders, “how are you feeling right now?”

“Well, my hands are cold and I’m sweating like crazy... I feel good, I guess,” as he wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief.

You laughed, you had never seen him this tense before. “Relax, Claire will definitely say yes to you. I don’t see any reason not to.”

“She’s right, bro,” Christian chimed in, “just calm down a bit, OK? Just remember, I’m here as your emotional support.”

You could feel how close you were to telling Christian to shut up, but you were able to hold back from it. You thought to yourself: this is not the time, don’t fucking ruin your best friend’s day.

You all suddenly heard a notification sound from Nick’s phone, and it was a text from Claire. “Okay, guys, she’s here," Nick said as he fixed his shirt, handed his phone to Christian, and put his hand on his pocket, "wish me luck.”

Nick had asked Christian to document the proposal with his phone, and you to handle the confetti cannon and the champagne. You and Christian went hiding in the bushes, without even acknowledging each other’s presence.

The moment you heard Claire said yes, you and Christian came out and you shot the confetti cannon. It was just the four of you there, and all of you were jumping up and down in excitement, hugging and congratulating the newly engaged couple. You even cried – you were genuinely happy and felt honored to be able to witness that beautiful moment. You then grabbed the champagne bottle and handed it over to Claire, as she popped it open and poured the champagne.

You raised your glass, followed by everyone, and gave a toast, “For Nick and Claire! Happy engagement you lovebirds!”

Before you all went home, Nick and Claire gave a little speech before asking the question you have been waiting for. 

“Y/N, Christian... You guys are our best friends and we’re very happy you are here with us right now, celebrating our engagement. We love you guys so much! So... before the day ends, we want to ask you...” They paused – for what you assumed ‘a dramatic effect’, “to be our Person of Honor and Best Man!”

You and Christian were acting surprised – in exaggeration, to be exact – but they knew you were messing with them, and of course you both accepted the ‘titles’.

“Thank you guys!” Claire responded gleefully, “but now, first order of business for our Person of Honor and Best Man: would you please plan our engagement party?”

You and Christian looked at each other, you were so aggravated by one another that you didn't want to do anything together. But since you two are now involved in your best friends’ big day – including the events before the wedding, you couldn’t say no.

“Of course...” You and Christian agreed to their request, even though you both obviously hesitated, “we’re uh... We’re on it.”

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem

[svturn-exe]

some stuff abt my favorite iredeemable freak ^_^ uhhhhh some general warnings . lots of talk abt murder (he's a slasher it is what it is) some mention of/implied child abuse, vague reference to cannibalism, white man jumpscare

how kenny goes from revenge killing his abuser to just straight up serial killing:

▶kenny kills his old man & gets away with it

▶he wants to relive that moment of finally feeling like he had power over his father, but he's not a necromancer. so he goes for the next best thing: finding an older man to kill pov you are my dad (you're my dad) boogie woogie woogie style

▶eventually (after a couple more kills or smth) kenny is like man if im gonna keep this up and not get caught i have got to find a way to get them somewhere out of public (this is prob b4 he learns the art of breaking and entering)

▶kenny switches to primarily targeting older married men. because he needs to get his victims to go somewhere secluded and out of the way with him, and whats the one thing a young, pretty guy can offer older, unhappily married men that will get them to go somewhere alone with him in secret?

▶eventually through whatever means kenny has the realization that oh. this isn't limited to just dirty old men. i just Like Killing In General, and just about Anybody will follow you just about anywhere if you're cute enough and they think ur gonna let them hit ▶kenny officially enters his 'he should NOT be at the club' era

the mess kenny's trial causes:

▶the people living in foxhole are generally very frustrated with the police. aside from more general acab reasons, public opinion of the police department is very low bc there are so many murders/missing persons cases and no answers or any real progress being made. general consensus is that the police are incompetent (real and true tbh).

▶kenny's trial doesn't help the police salvage their image. he doesn't refute any of the allegations made against him, freely admitting to any murder they pin on him - and to be fair. he did commit a good amount of them. he also just as freely admits when he doesn't remember committing specific murders, but still goes 'yeah i probably did that' anyway, bc he isn't aware of vivian's existence yet ▶for his part, kenny doesn't care enough to dispute the crimes he Didn't commit. and hey, for all he knows? maybe he does sometimes just black out and eat people in the woods. genuinely weirder shit has happened to him ▶ken phoenix is sentenced to death. somehow it gets out to the public that ken was not conclusively deemed fit to stand trial, but was tried anyway. some believe kenny wasn't a murderer, and was in fact just a very, Very mentally ill man, sparking public outrage over the police's incompetence. but like, no guys. they actually got it right this time. it's just that there is a second freak out there

▶normally, death row inmates can be there for years, up to literal decades. kenny's execution was fast tracked - so many people have been dying/going missing & the police need a win. they want this guy dead asap so they can tell the public look! we got the guy he's dead the day is saved and we're definitely not incompetent :)smile . but then the killings continue, even though ken phoenix is (legally) dead

▶him going from trial to sentencing to death row to lethal injection so quickly contributes to public outrage, alongside the killings continuing even after kenny is "killed." the public's fuck-the-police meter is at an all time high, and there's a secret third freak looking to take advantage of that sentiment (hi simon ^_^)

other shit:

▶ken is vain in a very smug way. he knows he's got a cute face and uses it for evil ▶kenny's burns were definitely a lot more extensive when they were fresh, bc kiera and cindy Trapped him in a locked room in that house before lighting it the fuck up. and after a certain point the house just collapses and buries him in on-fire wood, and he just cooks in there for a bit b4 vivian comes along and picks him up by the scruff out of the smoldering wreckage ▶for a while, until they start to heal, kenny is just wiped the fuck out on whatever surface vivian dumps him on. bc existing hurts and he's in desperate need of aloe vera ▶kenny is 12 when his mother is murdered, 19 when he kills his father, and by the time he's arrested and put on trial, he's 23 and in his 2nd year of college. he's almost exactly 10 years younger than vivian ▶ken's pupils are stuck at maximum dilation, but his eyes are so dark it's normally impossible to tell. if a uv light is shined on his eyes, however, the thin rings of his irides can be seen. but good luck getting him to keep his eyes open long enough to see - his eyes are very sensitive to light, despite being so dark. this also contributes to him becoming mostly nocturnal after the lethal injection ▶your greatest self defense weapon against kenny is one of those super laser blast industrial flashlights. or one of those stupid strong laser pointers that can get you arrested if you shine them at an airplane. shine that shit in his eyes and sprint for your life ▶ken is very pale, has a far slower-than-average heart rate, runs cold, and doesn't blink very often. if need be, he can play a very convincing corpse ▶hypothetically, if somewhere who were, say, extra sensitive to psychic & supernatural phenomena were to come into direct contact with whatever it is that's keeping kenny alive and everybody's problem. it would not end well ▶after kenny is put to death, from a forensic standpoint, they have no fucking idea what's going on. the leading theory is that the real killer stole ken's corpse from the morgue and is dragging him around on a tour-de-stab to mock the police. in reality, that weasely twink just woke up in the morgue and walked out ▶during the sentencing hearing, as the judge is giving justification for why kenny's sentence is what it is, they make a comment along of lines of 'i would not be surprised if he had assisted his father in his mother's killing.' this pisses kenny the fuck off, and he attempts to get at the judge and kill them right then and there. he's cuffed down, but cuffs don't mean much to a guy who cares more about throttling you until you neck snaps than he does about not breaking his own wrists. ▶the first thing kenny does after he gets vivian to sew him back up and let him out the cabin is he's tracking down that fucking judge that Dared to imply he'd kill his mom and Obliterating them. bro is gonna turn them into a human jigsaw puzzle it's so over

[dogtoling]

What if Ink Tanks aren't what we think?

In today's post, I've been looking a bit into the functionality of Ink Tanks and I'm here to propose an idea: what if they aren't what they seem? A majority chunk of the fanbase (including me before Dec 24, 2021 2am) seems to assume that the ink goes from the Inkling into the ink tank, and from there to the weapon. But what if it goes from the tank to the Inkling? That's what we're talking about today!

(Note: This post is speculative and there still isn't a canon answer to any of this as far as I know. Feel free to agree or disagree with the points made here and add your own input; there's DEFINITELY things I've missed and not even looked at considering there's less than a day between me thinking about this and making this post. I simply want to share my findings and thoughts on the matter.)

Ink Tank designs and their implications

Why is this even a consideration? Well, we still haven't had canon confirmation as to how the ink gets from the tank into the weapon, and we know there are no wires. While looking into this and trying to work it out, I figured an alternative possibility, which I'm exploring a bit in this post.

So first, let's look at some of the Ink Tank designs

There are at least five different Ink Tank designs that thematically support the concept of the Ink Tank existing to circulate ink INTO the Inkling instead of draining ink from the Inkling, i.e making them a kind of hydration tool. The main tanks from Splatoon 1 and 2 are seemingly based on sports bottles, which are obviously meant for hydration (drinking), the Splattershot Jr. Ink Tank from Splatoon 2 is a baby bottle, once again meant for drinking; one of the Ink Tanks in Splatoon 3 is just a plastic bottle, and probably the most obvious parallel is the fact that the main Ink Tank design for Splatoon 3 is LITERALLY a hydration pack.

Most of these could definitely just be a coincidence and are simply designed after various bottles because of stylistic choice or the mere fact that these are all containers meant to carry liquids, but there's a lot more other containers that are also meant to carry liquids that don't carry the obvious emphasis on being hydration devices. I just find the recurring theme kind of peculiar. In theory, you could also include the IV drips from Octo Expansion in this category... it technically confirms that ink is and can be injected INTO Inklings at times.

How does the Ink get around?

Now, the issue of the Ink Tank drawing ink FROM the Inkling and linking directly to a weapon.

[text: It has been officially acknowledged that there is no tube connecting from an Ink Tank to a weapon, so it isn't a case of a tube getting in the way of animations]

And aside from that, surely, if the weapons WERE designed to get their ink right from the tank and a tube was required (which you would assume to be the case, right, since matter usually doesn't teleport) SURELY the tube being too difficult to implement into animations would not be the reason it was left out, considering it would've been a key element of the whole thing.

[text: It has been vaguely suggested that the ink may get to the weapon from the hand of an Inkling, but this is VERY early and vague, and ultimately the impression is that "more research is needed" in this specific dilemma]

EDIT: Link to the dev interview

These claims are sourced from a developer interview that I couldn't find in time for this post, but it is somewhere out there, and I don't remember this issue one-to-one, but essentially: the function of how the ink gets into the weapon was asked, and it was kind of danced around. To my knowledge, it was ACKNOWLEDGED that there indeed is no tube, which implies it was never meant to work with a tube like so. The ink coming from the hand - thing was, to my knowledge, brought up as a reference to fan art where it was depicted this way, and it wasn't debunked nor confirmed, just brought up. (Edit: This is likely not in reference to the fan art but instead "according to one theory in which the ink comes from the wrist", so it may be internal.)

But weirdly enough, there's actually a few specials in favor of the ink indeed being sourced from the hand (how this works exactly is a discussion for another day), namely the Splashdown and the Booyah Bomb. In both of these specials, the ink seems to specifically be sourced to the hand of the Inkling, which would imply they are able to emit ink quickly through their hands. Which would actually be a useful skill for climbing or hunting, for example.

Issues with the "Ink-Draining Ink Tank"

Let's take a quick break to address some concepts for the Ink Tank indeed being the ammo hold for the weapon, and the issues with this concept.

Wireless Ink Technology. Maybe the ink tank has some kind of pad inside that warps the ink from the tank to the weapon. I actually ran with this theory for some time because from a gameplay perspective, it seems the most plausible all things considered - the Ink does seem to drain from the ink tank and go right to the weapon, and we know for a fact there's no wires.

There's a few glaring issues with this, obviously, the first one being that there ARE NO WIRES. Typically, liquid does not TELEPORT. Let's say, though, that we can work around this with the wireless tech, given that Splatoon does have some pretty advanced technology that we really don't know the limits of, and warp tech could technically be one thing. Sci-fi is sci-fi.

Even then, though, there's STILL another problem with this specifically. The implication that the Ink Tank needs to be high-tech to be usable, considering it needs to be able to run warp technology. And this is not a problem in Turf Wars because we know the Splatoon 1 and 2 ink tanks are VERY high-tech, as we know they even have screens built into them, but...

Right, I REFUSE to believe this plastic bottle strapped into a backpack with a tube running out of it has WARP TECHNOLOGY baked into it. The fact that this plastic bottle ink tank is suitable as an INK TANK implies that an ink tank needs to be nothing more than a container that is capable of holding ink. And if there's no tubes coming out of it, that kind of implies immediately that this isn't being used to directly fuel a weapon. (Granted, yeah, there is a tube in this one, but as far as I can tell this tube never connects to a weapon either. There's very little footage to work with...)

Obviously, the other technical problem with ink-draining ink tanks is the question of HOW they're draining ink to begin with. Probably the most common concept is that there is either a siphon or a patch on the upper back of an Inkling where ink comes out of, based on a Sunken Scroll that shows us this:

This scroll does kind of imply that the ink sac goes towards the shoulder of an Inkling, but I don't really think this works for multiple reasons. First off, there ISN'T anything on the back of an Inkling, so once again if this was a major part of how the core game mechanics work, that definitely would've been reflected in the models. And if we assume there is a skin patch on the upper back that lets more ink through, that makes very little sense considering Inklings seem to already be able to emit ink through their whole body. Having an ink sac specifically connect to a very weird and honestly not that useful spot when the same functionality is already literally everywhere else seems very pointless to me. When this specific image is considered, my guess is still that the tube would be going up to the mouth, which is the only other thing somewhat highlighted in this picture, and also lines up with every other ink-using creature we see using ink organically spitting it out of their mouth - this might also explain why Inklings sometimes have "normal"-colored mouths and ink-colored other times, ignoring that it's probably just stylistic inconsistency.

Then there's the issue with the ink actually getting from the skin to the Ink Tank, and once again there is no other explanation than either warp tech or some kind of technology in the straps that vacuums up the ink and sends it to the tank. This is pretty much grasping for straws the way I've looked at it, because in some cases (I don't know if most), the straps itself don't even connect to the tank, but are a separate harness that the tank is attached to with a clasp. In a case like this which works if you twist canon a little bit to the left to make it potentially work, it can work, but it clearly is not intended to be like this.

The other non-invasive option for the ink-draining ink tank is that the inkling has to manually remove the ink tank mid match and spit ink into it to refill it which is ridiculous, ruins the pace of a match, and also at that point, why not just do that directly to the weapon which already usually has its OWN ink tank.

TL;DR when looking at the Ink Tank as a device that drains the Ink from an Inkling and signals it forward, pretty much nothing makes sense or works, there is no way of the ink ACTUALLY getting in or out of the tank, and no tubes has been pretty much confirmed not to be a stylistic choice, but the actual canon. (Yes, the fact that the Ink Tank really has no way for the ink to get in or out does also interfere with the Ink replenishing the Inkling-idea, but this really seems like an issue that won't be addressed for a while so we just have to deal. Maybe they LITERALLY drink out of it at this fucking point)

Is the Ink Tank really necessary?

Anyway, something of a final blow for the importance of an Ink Tank as a direct ammo hold for an Ink Weapon:

[text: It's unclear how much of this scroll can be taken at face value, but it depicts ancient Turf Wars and no one seems to be using an Ink Tank to fire their weapons]

The scroll in question is from Splatoon 1, and has many easter eggs in the image that might not be historically accurate in-universe, but some of it probably still means something.

[text: Marie using her charger with no Ink Tank in the Hero Mode finale (Splatoon 2)]

-> An Ink Tank does not seem to be a requirement for using ink weapons, so it probably isn't the direct source of ink.

And this is sort of a big deal; I didn't go on a deep dive to look for every instance of this kind of thing happening, but it seems like an Ink Tank is NOT a necessity for using an Ink Weapon, which would imply that it's not where the ink for the weapon comes from. This could also be supported by the fact that there are several Special Weapons where the Ink Tank is not present, although in the case of Specials it is pretty much outwardly stated that the ink is sourced directly from the Inkling.

Inklings, the limitless ink fountains... or are they?

For the sake of game mechanics and the game working at all, they kind of are, yeah. Like, an art book directly states that an Inkling using a special weapon is somehow able to emit an amount of ink at least 20 times their entire body volume within 10 seconds. But ignoring that part for a second, let's look into how they probably AREN'T limitless ink fountains. Namely, let's look at limited ink.

Limited Ink challenges! The first game has them, the second game has them. They're quite simple; you can't refill your ink, and you have to complete a course of obstacles with the ink you have, after which you no longer have ink. It is worth mentioning that in S1 challenges, running out of ink splats the Inkling out of nowhere, which could imply they LITERALLY run out of ink... although this may simply be game mechanic. (Thanks to Copyceps for checking this for me!)

So why is the ink suddenly limited here? If we assume that the Ink Tank draws ink from the Inkling and they can just generate endless amounts of ink, this wouldn't be a problem whatsoever. You would theoretically never "run out" of ink. If your Ink Tank runs out, just fill it back up. But if it's the other way around and the Inklings DO follow the laws of physics (to at least some degree), they're bound to run out of ink at some point, what with constantly burning it into not only weapons, but ink flow on their skin, and Super Jumping for example. This is when the Ink Tank carrying excess ink that it pumps into an Inkling makes more sense.

The thing is, you CAN actually refill Ink during these challenges, but just like (presumably) the Ink Tank ink, this ink is external. Namely, you can find Ink Refills to inject ink back:

(Edit: The Refill is apparently modeled after a rodent drip feeder. The rabbit hole just goes deeper)

Cap'n Cuttlefish seems to shed some light on the matter of limited ink specifically in OE I02 - Dinky Ink Station. "Don't let that turn you into a dried-up husk like me!" (Referring to the fact that he is "dried out" and doesn't produce much ink) -> Implies the ink for the fight comes directly from the player's body, i.e. you are actively losing ink while shooting, rather than depleting it from an external source

"Excellent - now your skin will be supple and silky smooth!" (Comment after obtaining an Ink Refill)

-> This comment implies that somehow, the refill affects your physical properties directly. Makes very little sense if the ink was going into the tank and directly into a weapon, as it would do nothing to alter the physical properties of the Inkling.

Both of these comments by Captain Cuttlefish seem to imply that the ink for your weapon is coming directly from your body as opposed to an external tank, and the ink inside an ink tank or refill might be going to supplement the Inkling internally as opposed to straight into an ink tank and to a weapon.

Conclusion

It is possible, if not very likely, that Ink Tanks work to rehydrate and refill an Inkling mid-battle to make sure they do not run out of Ink, rather than the opposite of draining ink from an Inkling under the assumption that Inklings are an endless fountain of ink and the ink tank somehow forwards the ink to a weapon. This is supported not only by some niche dialogue, as well as the thematic consistency of a lot of Ink Tanks being modeled after hydration devices, such as bottles and even a hands-free hydration pack.

This makes a lot of sense from a more logical standpoint, with the assumption that Inklings DO have limits, and there is only so much that an Ink Sac can carry and produce in a short time. Inklings constantly burn through their internal ink reserves during Turf Wars not only through the passive flow of ink coating their skin (visible in swim form and for example things like Ink Armor), but also while Super Jumping, and obviously through shooting weapons. It would be pretty insane to imagine that on top of these things, they would at the same time have a pack on their backs that drains loads of ink out of them at all times. It then makes quite a bit more sense that the Ink Tanks, which can probably be filled at Spawn (seemingly endless ink fountains), hold "extra ink" that is phased into the Inkling's body to make sure they don't dry out and are able to play the sport normally, as well as allowing for larger weapons and more action in general.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk once again, if you read this far; that's crazy. If you have something to add or discuss PLEASE do because there's a lot left untouched (Like whatever the hell "the Limiter" is, we know so little I didnt even bother mentioning it), or if you have counterpoints to some of the points here. Either way, hope you have a nice day, and above all I JUST WANT ACTUAL ANSWERS <3

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

[neon-moon-beam]

I’ve already made a post about how including Ingo in PLA overshadowed the other Wardens, and in some ways the main plot for many people.

I’m wondering now if the Daybreak Mission from the Pokemon Day content update was a response to that. These are my thoughts regarding that, and what we might see in the future.

Spoilers follow.

Please don’t reblog and add, or message me with theories or headcanons. I don’t like to discuss these things with people I don’t know.

Bl*nkshippers dni--I will block you.

While we did have some moments with the Wardens during the main storyline, Ingo is the one we spent the most time with. The player travels with him and is told more about his background (ironically despite him not remembering it) than the other Wardens.

The content update didn’t answer anything or give any sort of conclusion to PLA, and in fact, posed even more questions; we’re never told why the Massive Mass Outbreaks occur at all and why in precipitation, did a Zoroark and Zorua impersonate Mai and her Munchlax for some cakes? and why did we never get to see and/or fight them? What is going on between Palina and Irida, did Palina really spite Irida by making her go to a place that’s too hot for her, and will they make amends? How does Munchlax know where and what the outbreaks are by eating Aguav Berries, which are not found in Hisui other than by being dropped by Pokemon during outbreaks, and how/why are the Aguav Berries getting to Hisui? However, it did fix the issue of Ingo not acknowledging the player at the Training Grounds unless spoken to or a Pokemon was sent out to interact with him.

During the Daybreak Mission, every Warden gets a callback, even if it’s a short appearance...except Ingo. All of them appear to be doing duties related to being a Warden, except Arezu, who has kept her status and may still tend to Liligant from time to time but primarily runs the salon, and Ingo, who has in-game never said or done anything regarding Sneasler since introducing the player to her.

We certainly spend a lot of time with Mai, and Lian and Melli have their moments, and while we get some new interactions with other Wardens, we still don’t see too much, such as Palina and Iscan, despite their relationship being allowed. I’m wondering if they decided to show the most popular Wardens aside from Ingo, though I’m not sure which Wardens are the most popular. I know Arezu is up there, but she still only had a short scene at the salon. The developers also probably kept the content short, because if they added too much content, it would require a price tag and be a DLC.

Ingo finally appears after the mission is complete, saying that Kamado asked him to create more battle styles. He’s not acting as a Warden, he never aided us while investigating the Massive Mass Outbreaks, he’s just...back running a Battle Facility. And while there are more options for battling him and others, we don’t get any new, personal dialogue from him, just dialogue pertaining to the battles. I was hoping to see him in the Coronet Highlands or somewhere else (as several of the Wardens appear in different areas from their Nobles), or new dialogue hinting he’d return home at some point, but he was sort of an afterthought.

I think Ingo’s inclusion in PLA was both because they could make a pun in Japanese and as a hint/hype for revisiting Gen 5, but it backfired in more ways than one. The first way is that new and existing Submas fans were upset over the separation and how distressed Ingo seems to be in PLA and the lack of confirmation that he will go home. The second is that people tended to focus on Ingo, Submas fans or not. Everyone who knows or finds out who he is wants to know why he’s in Hisui, how he got there, and if he’ll go home. GameFreak has been silent on this, and the official PLA guide book’s art pages only posed more questions, including whether or not the concept art made the final cut and is canon, as well as exacerbated the panic. Rather than enjoy time with other Wardens and experience Hisui, many people just want answers regarding Ingo, as well as more time with him. For some people, his inclusion and lack of a favorable resolution for what seems to be more of a subplot than a cameo soured their experience with PLA.

There’s actually a really easy solution here; send Ingo home. We don’t have to see it, we just have to know it will happen, and then see him being OK however they revisit 5th Gen. As of the time I’m typing this, PLA as a whole has yet to truly conclude. The main plot and player character are left hanging, as is Ingo, and a few other plot points from the main gameplay as well as the Daybreak Mission. This game doesn’t seem to know when to end or how, and for players, that’s very frustrating. I’m hopeful for a DLC, but it seems GameFreak is mostly moving on to Scarlet and Violet. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll use an ad or something for the Battle Subway, with Ingo intact, to hint that we can expect to revisit Unova in the games after Scarlet and Violet.

I’m also hopeful because they seemed to notice everyone saying Ingo didn’t acknowledge the player at the Training Grounds and were wondering if that was intentional, and responded by fixing it. They also have to be seeing the constant subtweets asking if he will be OK any time they tweet about PLA. He’s also gone back to running a Battle Facility, almost seemingly in favor of being a Warden, suggesting he’s moving towards going home. His memories seeming to slowly return and dissatisfaction not knowing his past is also promising, as Anabel (who many people compare Ingo to), never gets her memories back and seems to happily settle into her new life. They’ve always been aware that Submas are fan favorites, and to permanently separate them would be a move worse than just trying to tease revisiting Unova and overshadowing all the other characters and for some people, the main goal of the game. They also had an event recently in PokeMas, which may be hinting that he’ll be OK.

I doubt we’ll see Emmet added to Scarlet and Violet for whatever reason, as a lot of people have been hoping. Pokemon so far, with rare exceptions, hasn’t spanned major characters/organizations across regions or generations, and has never done this with plot points. And they’ve likely realized from the reactions to PLA that adding Ingo and/or Emmet to any game other than running the Battle Subway or unless they’re intended to be major characters, can and will overshadow the other characters and plot. Scarlet and Violet’s stories were probably finished before PLA was released, and new games tend to focus on their own plots, the new Pokemon, and new characters. Adding Emmet searching for Ingo, or as a villain (this goes against his entire canon characterization btw), or having a plot point that reunites Ingo and Emmet would definitely eclipse the main, new story the developers want to tell with Scarlet and Violet. And maybe that’s part of the point of the Daybreak Mission; they put Ingo in PLA and unfortunately he became a major focus, so they added some extra content to attempt to bring the focus back to the story they wanted to tell about Hisui and the Wardens.

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

[rocorambles]

Reassurance

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Spanking, Atsumu’s a jealous asshole

Summary: Atsumu annoying Sakusa isn’t anything new, but when the blond setter says something that hits a little too close to home, you’re there to reassure your dark haired lover and remind him that he’s the only one for you. 

Author’s Note: The original request was for reader to have a fwb relationship with Sakusa, but in the spirit of Valentine’s day and desire for slightly softer Sakusa content (although it’s still pretty rough sex OOPS), I have them officially dating in this story. 

Miya Atsumu is a thorn in Sakusa's side, a fact that doesn't surprise anyone on the MSBY Jackals. But usually there's a slight playfulness to their bickering, a taunting smirk thrown in to take off the razor sharp edges of their vicious words that Bokuto and Hinata nervously laugh at and that Meian rolls his eyes at before they all resume practice. 

Not today however and Bokuto grits his teeth as he holds Sakusa back with all his strength, a worried look in usually carefree eyes, as Hinata wraps his wiry arms around Atsumu and practically tackles the fiery setter to the floor, as Meian sternly shouts at both players to calm down, strategically placing himself between their thrashing bodies as they fight against their human restraints and bare their fangs at each other. 

The team adores you and how can Sakusa blame them when he himself fell head over heels for you in a way he never thought was possible? So he just fondly looks on as Bokuto and Hinata look at you with star-filled eyes and ignores the harmless subtle looks Meian sneaks at you when you appear at practices, matches, and team outings. It's harder to ignore Atsumu's blatant leering stares, but the blonde setter never makes an outright disrespectful move other than flirtatious comments here and there, so as irritating as it is, Sakusa doesn't say a word for the sake of the team. 

But today he had gone too far and although it wasn't the first time Atsumu had openly raved about how breathtakingly attractive you are in the team locker room whenever you posted a new picture on social media, it is the first time he has openly denounced your relationship and everyone freezes at the setter's scornful words when he questions what you see in Sakusa. 

Even the team airheads quiet down, but Atsumu continues prattling on about how he would treat you so much better than Sakusa, how you deserve more than some frigid germaphobe, seemingly unaware of the growing tension in the air, the cold fury in dark eyes as Sakusa stares him down. But then he looks Sakusa dead in the eyes, not a hint of a joke in his disdainful gaze, and all hell breaks loose as Sakusa lunges at his sneering teammate. 

Despite how aloof Sakusa comes off as, he’s not completely oblivious to his own reputation and how cold he comes off as to others. He sees the skepticism in other’s eyes when the two of you walk out and about. He hears the doubtful mutterings as people wonder if he’s even capable of being a caring boyfriend. And the worst part of it all is that they aren’t wrong. 

He is irritable. He isn’t friendly. He’s not a great communicator. And the thought of intimately touching anyone had always turned him off to the point where even he himself wondered if he was destined to be alone. Until he met you. 

Women are pretty enough. He can admit that, not a stranger to appreciatively looking at an attractive female who asks him for his signature after a game. But skin on skin contact with a stranger? Holding a conversation about meaningless small talk? Out of the question and dating wasn’t something he even remotely considered as he focused on volleyball and being part of the future Japan National Team that would bring the country its first volleyball gold medal. 

And then you had swung into his life out of nowhere, turning his world and opinions upside down and for the first time he found himself wanting to get to know you better, talk with you. 

It hadn’t been easy, figuring out how to make a relationship work and in his defense, you’re his first girlfriend. But he grimaces when he looks back at the arguments the two of you used to have, the tears in your eyes when you asked him if he even cared about you, were you so disgusting that he couldn’t even bear touching you, the hurt in your eyes when he chose to stay silent instead of tell you how he really feels. And he groans when he remembers how his own damned pride had refused to budge, refused to allow himself to be vulnerable to you, refused to meet you in the middle. 

But when you had come to him, defeated, a slump in your shoulders as you asked him if he wanted to just end things, he had clawed and torn his pride to shreds, love and fear of losing you overcoming his constraints and the two of you began anew, communicating and working together to create a joint journey. It’s an amazing relationship despite the slight spats the two of you still sometimes have, but that doesn’t mean doubt and insecurity don’t brush the edges of his mind every now and then when he feels like he’s failed you as a partner. 

Damn Atsumu and his ability to stick his claws where it really hurts. 

Needless to say, both Atsumu and him are promptly kicked out of the gym after both receiving an earful from Meian about their unprofessional behavior and an affectionate but stern slap to both their heads as their captain orders them to go cool down and start practice on a fresh new page tomorrow. 

And he knows he should take the wise advice, should walk around, maybe jog, let the fresh air calm the turbulent storm inside of him calm before he returns to you, but doubt and uncertainty drag him to your front door and before he can even register what’s happening, he’s pounding relentlessly on the wood until you open it up for him and stare at him with surprised wide doe eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? You’re really early. I haven’t even started prepping for dinner yet-”

Your words falter as you’re brusquely pushed against the wall of your foyer, the front door slamming shut behind your lover and you yelp when lips come crashing against yours, almost painfully so. Bewildered you almost have half a mind to shove him off and have him explain what’s going on, but then he’s pulling away himself, calloused hands clutching the fabric of your shirt tightly, and your chest tightens at the distraught desperation in normally calm eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? Is everything okay?” 

You moan as he kisses you once again, more tenderly than before, but passionate enough that you’re gasping for breath when he finally pulls away and you melt into his tight embrace as strong arms wrap around you and hold you tight to him. 

“I just need you. Now.”

And how could you possibly deny that intense stare as dark eyes pin you down? 

Intimacy with Sakusa is usually premeditated, process-oriented, starting with a thorough cleanse in the shower and both of you neatly folding and piling your clothes safely in a corner before falling into bed with each other. Nothing like this and your heart races as you’re being dragged through the house and literally tossed onto the bed with so much impact you bounce back, only to be held still once more as Sakusa’s hands scramble to remove your clothing, almost tearing your outfit in the process as he haphazardly tosses them somewhere to the side. 

You want to tell him he can relax, that you’re not going anywhere, but before you can soothe him you squeal as you’re pressed against the bedsheets, a mouth hungrily kissing and sucking dark bruising marks all over your neck, your collarbone, body writhing as two hands cover your breasts, kneading and rolling your nipples between dexterous fingers. And suddenly you don’t want him to take it down a notch after all, your hips arching up and insistently rubbing against him in a desperate plea for more that he’s quick to answer by grinding his own groin down against you. 

It’s desperate, pathetic, two grown adults humping each other like animals, but neither of you can get enough of it and you’re embarrassingly close to cumming just like that, lewd moans filling the air as you succumb to the combined assault of his body, mouth, and hands. But you indignantly whine when he abruptly pulls away, shocking you back to attention when the cold air pierces you without his body covering yours. And Sakusa smirks at the way your whining turns into a yelp as he easily drags you to the edge of the bed by your ankles until your legs dangle off the mattress, a glint in his eyes when he sees how you nervously swallow at the sight of him kneeling between your legs, his fingers teasingly positioned at your inner thighs. 

Sakusa has talented hands, a fact that’s well known to anyone who’s a part of the Japanese Volleyball Association, but you wonder if they could ever imagine just how much more multifaceted his gift truly is and you let out a high-pitched keen as he glides two fingers inside of you, twisting his notoriously flexible wrists in a way that instantly has you seeing stars as he reaches and drags against places inside of you that you never even knew existed. You’re dripping and you wince at the lewd slick sounds you hear as he relentlessly explores and ruins you, shyly biting your lip when you vaguely think about how Sakusa abhors the mess of sex, and you make to gently push him away from you, reassuring him that he doesn’t need to go through with this. 

But you startle at the animalistic snarl directed at you, unable to do anything else except slump back down on the rumpled sheets, desperately digging your nails into the fabric surrounding you when he adds a third finger and increases his pace, twisting and turning, plunging even deeper inside of you. It’s overwhelming and you know you’re dangerously close to the edge already, head thrashing side to side as little mewls and whimpers slip past your lips, but then your back is arching, mouth gaping wide open as lips wrap around your clit and you scream as they suck on the engorged bud, convulsing and gushing even more as you dive headfirst into your first orgasm of the night. 

Your body is still shaking, eyes still in the back of your head, but you whimper, trying frantically to ground yourself as a hand firmly grasps your chin and urges you to gaze into dark eyes. 

“Tell me how good that felt.” 

“So good, Kiyoomi. So so good.” 

Your voice is slurred, mouth thick and heavy with exhaustion, but your word are good enough for now and you weakly cry as you’re suddenly being turned over, forced to slump down onto your stomach and chest, arms splayed out in front of you as your face rests on the bed, shaky legs barely holding your lower body up as you’re now forced to stand and bend over the edge of your bed. 

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this position up, but arousal churns inside of you once more when you take a second to realize the position you’re in, ass and glistening pussy on full display for your boyfriend, reduced to nothing but a pair of holes as you bend over and present like a slut. And you whimper, ass automatically pressing back and shaking in want as hands grab onto your hips and something hard grinds against you. 

Any other time you’d be embarrassed to display such wanton behavior in front of your more reserved lover, but it seems like Sakusa is just as impatient as you and you claw at the sheets, grappling for purchase when he slams balls deep inside of you in one swift motion. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, not that you need much assistance considering how drenched your pussy already is, and you wail as he starts up a brutal pace, fingers digging into your skin as he holds you still while his hips thrust back and forth.

The pleasure is mind numbing and you can feel the sheets underneath you begin to soak with your drool as your jaw remains slack. But you need more and one of your hands slips down between your legs, searching for the little bud at the apex of your thighs, only to be briskly slapped away and you turn your head to complain, only to collapse back down and scream in the sheets as Sakusa swiftly replaces your wandering digits, rubbing and circling your clit. 

Your legs are trembling, stomach tightening as something hot coils and slithers inside of you, body tensing as arousal builds up to a crescendo inside of you, the lewd sounds of Sakusa’s balls slapping against your ass with every thrust echoing throughout. But as you teeter totter on the edge once again, you’re dragged back to the present when a hand sharply smacks your ass. 

“Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You, Kiyoomi! You!”

“Can anyone else make you feel this way?”

You can barely register the words, struggling to make sense of the questions he’s suddenly pouncing on you, desperate for release and being used. But you’re silent for too long and you howl as you’re punished with two more harsh smacks. 

“Answer me.” 

“NO! No one except you. Kiyoomi, please, please, please, please…”

You’re babbling at this point, incoherent wanton ravings of more, please, and Kiyoomi drowning the air, and you think you might start sobbing in pain and denial if he doesn’t give you what you want, willing to degrade and lower yourself to pleading and begging. But Sakusa takes mercy on you, satisfied with your answers, and you gratefully begin to loudly moan again as he chases his own end, dragging you along with him. And all it takes is a few more stuttered thrusts and more coaxing of your clit to have you falling apart underneath him once again, and the clenching and convulsing of your tight soft walls has him tumbling down after you, painting your insides white. 

You really do begin to collapse to the ground this time, trembling legs unable to stand anymore, but strong arms are there to catch you and your body goes limp in relief as you’re gently laid fully onto the bed and pressed against a comforting warm hold as Sakusa lays beside you, letting you nestle further into him and tuck your head under his chin in a way that makes you feel safe and loved. 

It’s a few moments before you can even begin to reassemble yourself, but when you do, it’s your turn to nudge a handsome face into making eye contact with you and you gently pepper Sakusa’s face with soft butterfly kisses as you urge him to finally explain what all that was about, reassuring the guilty and embarrassed countenance that it’s fine, both of you are fine, and everything is going to be fine, no matter what he says. 

You listen attentively, stroking long wavy locks as he hesitantly tells you about the incident in details, scowling and holding your lover even more fiercely to yourself when he repeats Atsumu’s vicious words, murmuring reassurances to him about how you only have eyes for him and even if you ever did leave him (you wince when he glares and bodily wraps around you like a serpent), it sure as hell wouldn’t be for a snot-nosed arrogant prick like Miya Atsumu. 

He loosens his grip on you, appeased by the way you affectionately drown him in kisses and nuzzles as he continues on to recount the rest of the day’s events, but he stares askance at you when you burst into laughter as he tells you about the fight that had almost broken out, that he had almost started, peering at you questioningly and unamused, unsure what you could possibly find so funny about the situation or his atrocious handling of the matter. 

And then he’s full on glaring at you as you relentlessly tease him for his childish impassioned reaction to Atsumu’s bitter words, mockingly cooing at him and fluttering your lashes as you call him your big strong hero, breaking into disbelieving cackles every once in a while when you imagine your mature, level headed lover trying to get into a fist fight over some silly words a stupid brat had said. 

But you’re not laughing when you’re suddenly being pinned on your back again, a surprised yelp forced from you as Sakusa sharply nips your earlobe before irritatedly staring you down. 

“Clearly I didn’t work you over well enough if you have enough energy to laugh and make a fool out of me. Let’s change that, shall we?”

[mamitomoesyandereblog]

First time doing one of these, how about some yandere mami tomoe x reader headcanons?

Of course! You can certainly tell by the whole aesthetic of the blog; but Mami is my favourite character from the series. That being said; I'll try to do my best. Hope you like it; dear anon. ^^

Tw;

Yandere stuff, unusual behaviours, unhealthy relationships, mentions of kidnapping/Stockholm syndrome , mentions of suicide

I don't support this kind of actions or behaviour in any way; this is just fiction and should stay fiction.

(Spoilers For Puella Magi Madoka Magica ahead)

💛Yandere! Mami Tomoe Headcannons💛

First things first; how you two met. The request didn't specify whether they wanted the headcannons to be romantic or platonic so I'll try to keep it somewhere in between.

It was just another normal school day and you were walking home on your own; since your friends were all busy today. But then, as you're walking, you suddenly feel dizzy. It's as if everything around you is deforming in some sort of way. Whispers of "Were your friends really busy?" and "Maybe you're too pathetic for them, you would be better off dead" were ringing in your ear. Before you know it you're in a witch labyrinth.

Long story short; a certain blonde magical girl came to your rescue.

After saving you she introduced herself and made you promise to keep it a secret. She insists to walk you home and on your way there she shares with you more about magical girls and her experience as one in general. And then you reach your house and the two of you never speak again. Or so you thought.

The next day something unexpected happen. You find her and talk with her again after school. And the two of you become friends.

🍵 After meeting you Mami feels like she's finally not alone anymore. Maybe you're not a magical girl but you're still someone she can talk to, share her problems with. You're the only one she has at the moment, the only thing she looks forward to besides her magical girl duties. So it's only natural that she's a bit clingy, often texting you multiple times and passing by your class at school (if you're not in the same class or you go to the same school)

🍵 She tries her best to put a brave act in front of you, she wants you to look up to her and feel safe with her. She wants you to see her as someone you can always rely on. She feels comfortable enough to vent to you though. You've seen her cry at least once, you've comforted her multiple times. You understand, you're the only one who understands. In her eyes at least.

🍵 She's definitely the type to be touchy but not full on like giving hugs. Maybe if you guys were official she would but as friends she just does small gestures. Such as putting her hand on your shoulder or holding your hands from time to time; often pulling you closer to her without even realising. It makes her feel safer in a way. It reminds her of how close you are; it reminds her that the most important person in her life is here with her.

🍵 If you ever started spending less time with her, especially because of other people, she'd definitely get emotional. As we've seen in the anime; Mami isn't really emotionally stable. So if something like this were to happen she'd instantly go into panic mode. She wouldn't get jealous, she'd get scared. Scared that you're going to leave her, just like an old "friend" of hers did in the past. So she'd ask you to talk about it. At first she seems calm and has a smile on her face but the more she goes on the more emotional she gets, even starts crying.

🍵 What would happen if you decided to leave her out of your life immediately though? Maybe you start avoiding her on purpose or you outright announce to her. Either way; it ends the same. If you avoid her she'd come up to you, maybe in an alleyway near your house or somewhere you can't back away easily. If you announce it to her what's to come would happen then and there. She's silent for a few seconds. Then she starts sobbing, panicking more than she's ever panicked before. You then attempt to walk away and for the first time in her life as a magical girl she uses her magic out of the battle.

🍵 Most of her magic is based on ribbons, so expect to wake up with a bunch of em' tied around you, keeping you in place. She's a magical girl and you're just...a normal girl/boy/person. There's nothing you can do against magic ribbons. If even Homura couldn't get out of the ribbons then there's no way you would. She'd probably try to act as if those ribbons don't exist though. As if you're just a friend, or even something more, staying over for the night. Although it's going to be a lot longer than just the night.

🍵 Keeping in mind that you're tied with a bunch of magical ribbons that get tighter the more you struggle there aren't really many ways you could misbehave. Yelling at her would be the only thing you'd be capable of doing and she could either ignore it or have a ribbon cover your mouth as well. She's trying to convince herself that what caused her to do this never happened, trying to pretend all this is normal.

🍵 Once you gain her trust she'd let you out of the ribbons. It would be quite easy, to be honest. Her entire mental stability depends on you at this point since you're the only one she has. Good luck with trying to get out of her apartment. Everything is locked and it's too high for you to jump off. If you somehow did manage to go out though... It's you against a veteran unstable teenage girl with the power to summon hundreds of rifles at once. So once again; good luck.

🍵 If you did really learn to love her she'd be so so happy, crying tears of joy even. She'd get a lot more physical as well when you're in her apartment so you'd get a lot of hugs. And free desserts. Unlike some yanderes she'd let you get out of the house; on your own as well. As long as you came back in time. You'd also be able to go to school again, although you'd spend all of your time by her side. She'd even force Kyubey to help you telepathically talk to eachother during class as well.

🍵 If anyone ever made a move on you she'd probably get between the two of you, literally, and threaten them. She'd somehow make herself seem intimidating while still sounding pretty calm and wearing a smile. If someone decided to hurt you though... Well; if they were to insult you they'd get the same treatment as making a move with you. If they actually hurt you physically...oh boy. At first it's just a playful threat. Once you leave that fake smile on her face would be gone though, replaced by a glare instead. She'd threaten the person again, this time sounding more determinated than before. She wouldn't use her magic though, she still has to keep the whole Magical Girl thing a secret after all.

🍵 When and if she learnt the truth about witches... It'd be tough. Learning that she's going to either die fighting or become what she's been fighting all this time messes her up by itself, but realising that she's never going to be with you no matter what makes it one trillion times worse. She would still do the same she did in the series. What if one day she turned into a witch and ended up hurting you? No. She'd rather end it all sooner, it was for the better. If she somehow learnt it without the Sayaka fiasco happening and the circumstances were ideal she'd send you a voicemail before ending it all. Her last goodbye.

🍵 I'd imagine her witch form to be the same but with some changes. For example; her familiars would give the people who entered the labyrinth a missing poster that read "Vidisti amica mea?" before walking them to the tea party. I can even imagine the witch taking people in hopes of finding someone one day. She can't remember anything about who it was exactly but she's just desperate to find them; maybe they'd make the tea party more fun, whoever they were.

Aaand that's everything! I apologize if it wasn't exactly to your liking dear reader, it's my first time writing yandere headcannons.

(Also don't worry about the reader not being a magical girl/boy, I'm saving that for the future 👀)

With all that being said; I hope you liked the headcannons! Or some of them, at least. Requests are still open of course. Have a lovely day/night! 💕

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

[animecreator3000]

About the Boueibu iceberg

@delphoxqueen asked me to explain about my list for the iceberg so here it is. I might update this from time to time with links and stuff if I stumble across the original posts. This is all from what I know so feel free to add new info. Also, spoiler warning for RobiHachi and the Boueibu manga and novels. (This is like a masterpost it’s very long)

1. There’s a theory in tumblr about which decade the series is set in, using data like the friday the 13th calendar in s2 ep11. In HK we got a second number for when the next monthly Pretty Boy Contest was happening and using the one from Love it was theorized that around a decade had passed since then, which ended up being true.

2. The stage play had a few original songs and characters exclusive to it so unless you watched the full performance, you probably weren’t able to witness all of them. One of the characters is called “Robato Deniro”, as romanized in the stage play booklet I own.

3. The nurse and the cafeteria staff from the s1 mobile game appear in the background in around the first half of s2 ep3.

4. S2 had an unfinished manga that was only available online and was never released on physical format; it was centered around the defense club and sometimes the conquest club and Beppu brothers. All that’s left from what I know are the scans linked on magicalgirlsandcerulean’s blog.

5. This isn’t that obscure because it’s talked about in the anime, but I’m mentioning it because I think many people dropped it before the ova, where right at the beginning it is revealed that the alien that resucitated Mr. Tawarayama twice was, as described by Io, a “mulberry-colored naked mole rat-looking thing”, and was nicknamed “Moley-san” by Yumoto. At least in the anime, we had never heard before of who this was and it never appeared on screen nor was mentioned again.

6. In HK ep8, Karurusu promises the knights to grant a wish if they show him how earthlings spend summer. Kyoutarou reveals at the end of the episode that he wished that summer lasted one more day so he could spend it doing nothing, which prompts Ichiro to theorize that it’s the 32nd of august, and the next day is the second 1st of september.

7. The stage play was was held from march 10th to 13rd, of which the latter is Ryuu’s birthday. There’s an additional recording of a small celebration with cake focused on Ryuu and Io.

8. Atsushi mentions his older sister in the flashback at the beginning of s1 ep4, but she never appears or is mentioned again.

9. There’s a few posts on tumblr theorizing about what happened to the Hakone parents since Yumoto only says in s2 ep3 that according to Gora, “they are busy with their hot springs tour”. En mentions that it’s a bit suspicious, but it’s all the information we have from the anime. Posts talk about the parents perhaps passing away from an accident or an illness, thus the reason why Gora was so worried about Yumoto’s cold in s1 ep10, but from another post I think it’s implied in the second novel that they actually left their home when Yumoto was still a toddler.

10. It’s no secret that the surnames of the characters are all real onsens in Japan that even the seiyuus have visited, but apparently the Arima onsen has two different kinds of water, “kinsen (gold hot spring)” and “ginsen (silver hot spring)”, with different properties each, and the Kusatsu onsen water also has certain properties, both that were used to build the characters. Additionally, Ryuu’s favorite food are Sato Nishiki cherries, which are grown in the same prefecture, Yamagata, as his onsen, Zaou.

11. The press club lose relevance after s1, with only Kinosaki and Tazawa reappearing briefly in s2 ep2 to interview the Beppu twins after they arrive at the school. Tazawa doesn’t even have lines. Hireashi is mentioned by Zundar in ep11.

12. What the heck

13. Exclusively in the manga we see that Arima met Kinshiro and Atsushi when they were little and they were good friends, but when they met again as adults, Kinshiro seemingly didn’t remember Arima. Atsushi, however, stated that Kinshiro’s talent is remembering people’s faces and names, so Arima wonders if he’s just trying to distance himself from him. He also explains to Akoya that he follows Kinshiro and obeys him because as a child, he was fascinated by his radiant smile. This is never talked about in the anime.

14. Like the previous point, the anime never shows Akoya being bullied, at most just a slight dislike of his full name, but the manga shows that he was made fun of for it and how he actually hates his surname, to the point of introducing himself formally to the president and vicepresident of the student council as “Holy Angel Akoya”.

15, 16, 17, 19. Batonama lives were the livestreams done through the franchise by the defense club seiyuus on youtube and niconico. They’re all on youtube, without any kind of translation.

Love-ko is a girl with a shell bikini drawn on a piece of cardboard that was used as a girlfriend in the Batonama Love! lives, acted by the seiyuus themselves.

RobiHachi has one episode full of official Boueibu artwork and a parody of the series too, a Love-ko doll appears, and Wombat appears as well, named “The Don”. It received an english dub, so for a bit, people were excited that Wombat was going to speak in english too. Also, various mechas appear in both Boueibu and RobiHachi.

18. The director of Fairy Ranmaru (Masakazu Hishida if I’m not wrong) revealed in an interview that he was inspired by Boueibu and aimed to make a show like that.

20, 21. The website super-groupies.com has results for defense and conquest club lingerie sets, dc and VEPPer tote bags, the Beppus’ scarf rings, dc bath sets and the pumps magicalgirlsandcerulean mentioned. I’ve found the s1 Loveracelets and Caerula Adamas’ ring on different sites, the True Loveracelets on TheChara’s twitter and the Happybraces (apparently called “Hapibure”) on broccoli.co.jp but I’m not sure where exactly they were all announced and sold, so I’ll just drop that.

22, 33. Boueibu was originally pretty much a copy of Sailor Moon, I think they were all going to be called “Lackluster Moon” and that stuff and be literally Sailor Moon genderbent. They were all different from color palettes to physical features (except Yumoto’s), and Ryuu was a shota, even smaller than Yumoto. Their names were also very reminiscent of the five Sailor Senshis’. Even if they made it more original, the show is still clearly inspired by Sailor Moon (just look at Caerula Adamas lol) and Pretty Cure. It has also referenced, very blatantly, animes like Doraemon, Detective Conan, Aikatsu and even Vocaloid, when Kyoutarou tries to guess what Karurusu is saying with ““Just Google It, Asshole”?” in ep1.

23. Wombat’s real name and the name of his planet sound like gibberish to the earthlings and ends up being named after the Earth animal, but Zundar, Dadacha, Karurusu and Furanui all have original names. And I think Hireashi means “goldfish”?

24. If you google “zundar technology”, it’s actually a company in Shanghai, China. Aren’t Wombat and Zundar always talking about “advanced alien technology”?

25. Zundar and Dadacha are siblings, so are Karurusu and Furanui, and so are their father King Kamopapa and their uncle minister Wao, but neither are the same species and, except the first two, not even the same color. But they are supposedly related because they share birthmarks or something like that...

26. Everyone who’s in this fandom knows about the pixel blur and voice pitch censor from s1, but I’ve added it anyway because it’s so rare for mahou shoujo and shounen animes to explain why the heroes aren’t recognized when transformed.

27. A good while of s2 ep11 is spent discussing Zundar’s ex-wife and his problems to give child support. Naturally, he gets mad at this.

28. “Money doesn’t betray” (s1 ep6) and “The despair hidden behind your smile that comes from not being understood” (s3 ep11) are sentences that came out of nowhere and implied that the people they were said by (Io) or about (Taiju) respectively had some kind of angst going on but were never explained at all. They’re famous for just that.

29. The Beppu twins’ house in Andromeda shown in flashbacks had strange green circles that apparently are from another anime I don’t know but honestly I didn’t get it very well... It was revealed on a tweet from Takamatsu.

30. Alien language mostly appeared in s2 due to the many flashbacks of Aki and Haru in Andromeda, but in Boueibu s1, it appears on the Zundar Needle before it is shot on the human. It appears a lot through RobiHachi as well, due to being a story about travelling through space. There might be an alphabetical chart somewhere, but I can’t assure it exists, I might even have dreamed it.

31. Hikaru Midorikawa as the melon monster, Kousuke Toriumi as the bishounen monster, Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as the kotatsu and panda monsters and Takuya Eguchi as the remote controller monster in s1 and 2, before going on to voice the main cast in HK. Keisuke Koumoto voiced Hatchi Kita in RobiHachi as well as Akihiko in Boueibu, and the characters look similar.

A new addition is that so far Boueibu is the only anime I’ve seen where children weren’t voiced by female seiyuus, but by actual children. Personally, it’s charming and makes it so much more realistic, specifically since no women appear in the franchise at all either (not counting Protag-chan in the game).

32. Speaking of seiyuus, Can I Destroy The Earth? had a dub shown in ep11/12 (?) that made Gora the villain that wanted Earth to stay the same and not progress, against the monsters that supposedly wanted to bring good things to earthlings. Aki and Haru quickly dismissed this dub as fake. (I made a mistake in the title in the previous post btw)

34. As seen in the glossary in the Boueibu Mook (I think, but might not be the mook), Caerula Adamas’ speeches are based on an old japanese detergent commercial that went “Gold, silver, pearl, gift”.

35. In the manga there’s a short parody of the first chapter of Sailor Moon with “Pretty Boy Guardian Gakuran Akoya”. The conquest club manga was released before the anime, so I remember reading somewhere that a fake website appeared for the Gakuran Akoya manga, before turning into the conquest club manga website in the day of its release.

36. Cgi was used a few times in the anime: s2 ep10 for a short sequence of the defense club on a rollercoaster and the carousel monster, ep11 for a cenital shot of the Battle Lovers singing, and HK ep12 for the Honyalaland soldiers and the Wao mecha.

37. The toothbrush incident in s1 ep7. (It’s definitely well-known but it’s so weird lol)

38. “We hope we can see each other again someday!” Something along those lines was the last text to appear in the last episode of HK, implying a s2. We all know how that went.

[blue-mood-blue]

They tell him that his name is Benzaiten Steel.

They tell him that he’s been shot.

Officially, publicly, his condition is unknown - they haven’t released any details yet, pending the investigation. As he understands it, the investigation amounts to his mother and brother pointing to each other in accusation, both of them held in separate interview rooms of the HCPD while Ben lays in his hospital bed. They were hoping he could give them answers, Ben realizes when the doctor and the officer both hover around his door uncertainly before turning to go.

But Ben doesn’t remember anything. He can’t tell them if his brother in law enforcement went corrupt or if his mentally ill mother finally slipped too far. If it was an argument, or an accident, or which of his incredibly small family is more likely to lie. He wouldn’t have been able to tell them his name if they hadn’t told him first, because Ben hardly remembers anything at all.

It’s the head injury, the nurse tells him at two in the morning while she gives him more pain medication. Not from the blast, which had caught him in the shoulder and was more than enough damage to a body on its own, according to her. He must have hit his head on something on the way down, gave himself a nasty bump and some swelling. Nothing to worry about too much, she added quickly after getting a good glance at Ben’s expression. Just... just the memories might not come back. Hard to tell with these things.

Ben chews over the possibility after she leaves, slipping in and out of sleep. He should want to know, right? He should be searching for those memories, and the way he fit between them. He should be looking for himself... looking for the truth.

There are two people in his family. One of them shot him. He can’t imagine a truth there that wouldn’t tear him in two anyway.

Ben takes a moment to pity whoever it was he used to be - must’ve had a sad life, in the middle of that mess. Couldn’t possibly have been happy, in that little apartment in Oldtown, no one to call or contact besides the people led away in handcuffs. Such a small, tiring existence... didn’t he feel stifled, trapped? He does now. He thinks about going back to that, and he can’t breathe.

Ben looks at the window instead. He can make out some stars, but only a few - it’s hard to see much around the light pollution and the dome. He doesn’t remember, but logic tells him he hasn’t lived the kind of life that’s ever taken him off of Mars; he’s never seen any of those stars, or the planets around them, or their moons - not really. He thinks he might like to, and it’s almost a surprise when the thought comes to him; it’s as if his mind has been cleared of some dome hemming him in, holding him in place, and now there’s room to want. Ben feels untethered, adrift... free. Free in a way he knows, somehow, he’s never been before.

It’s a heady feeling. For the first time since waking, Ben smiles. He could be free. He could reach up to those stars and never come back down.

Benzaiten Steel might not remember anything about himself, but he learns that he’s a good actor. When the officer comes back with more questions, Ben tells them he’s afraid for his life, more afraid because he doesn’t know who or what to fear. “Be honest,” he asks, voice shaking with something (not fear, but the officer doesn’t know that). “Do you think this could happen again? Am I really safe?”

Benzaiten Steel is declared dead, and Ben boards a ship.

~~~

He still calls himself Ben; everything else, he cuts away and leaves behind as deadweight. He’s Ben Nothing, Ben Nobody, and he runs between the stars like there’s something chasing him. He finds work where he can, and he finds that the most lucrative work is the illegal kind. He finds that he’s good at it, charming people with a smile or disarming them with a few tears, and then liberating them from whatever they have in their pocket, or safe, or bank account.

Ben is happy. Ben is competent, secure, well-liked in the circles he moves through. Ben is as free as he ever wanted to be, in this life or any other. And if he feels like something unnamed is breathing down his neck some days, well, he is a thief, isn’t he? There’s always someone after him, law enforcement on several planets at least. If he avoids Mars and anywhere too close to that little, red planet, it’s his own business. There’s not much on Mars, anyway; only the Cerberus Province and the connections he could make there, and it’s a small sacrifice to make for all of the things he gets to see.

Ben isn’t lonely. He just feels a little adrift sometimes.

And it’s years before anything catches him.

He has a jewel that toppled a dynasty with the conflict it caused hidden in his pocket, and he slips into a dark, mostly empty theater to wait out the afternoon and the authorities. He already has a spot waiting for him on a ship traveling several planets away, but it won’t take off for hours. He has plenty of time.

Ben pulls out his comms to waste some hours, ignoring the movie playing on the screen; a kids’ movie, probably with the hope that whole families would make the effort of taking a trip to the theater to spend time together. It was a bad gamble, with the only person there other than Ben asleep in a chair in the corner. Ben snorts; kind of a stupid thought, that anyone would bother when they could stream whatever old movies they wanted directly to their home.

He’s in the middle of a game when he looks up at the screen. There’s a woman fighting a dragon, and he isn’t sure what caught his attention until it happens again.

“Andromeda!” someone on the screen yells.

Ben’s head hurts.

Andromeda! a younger Benzaiten yells. He can feel the warm sun beating down on him, the familiar sounds of shouting down a street somewhere too far away to worry about. His voice, thin and reedy and so young, makes its best attempt at a growl. You will never escape me!

“You will never escape me!”

His head throbs, and he could cry with how much it hurts.

I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight, because good must always succeed! Someone with his face answers back, swinging a sword made of paper towel rolls and too much duct tape, and then breaks from the script: And I’m faster than you anyway, Benten, so I can escape whenever I want to.

For a moment, he rests on the divide between Ben and Benzaiten. If he tries, he could pull back - but he also knows he could no more let go of that voice than tear his own heart out.

Juno. A knowledge from the long-dormant pieces of him whispers an answer he doesn’t ask for, as it drags the whole of his messy, painful history with it. That’s Juno. Your twin. Your family.

Benzaiten is still crying, hurt radiating from his head and his chest, and there’s no one around to care so he doesn’t stop. He watches the stupid movie three times, then boards a ship and tries to hide the evidence with makeup and a bright smile. He’s two planets away by the time he thinks about going back, all the way back, and by the time he’s three planets away he’s decided that it would be a ridiculous idea.

It’s been years. Fuck, it’s been so many years. Does Juno live in the same place? What if he’s married now; out of the two of them, he was always the one looking for someone to hold onto him. Would he even want to see Ben?

The answer should be yes, but Ben’s not an idiot, he knows reality is more complicated. Juno buried him, and mourned for him, and maybe even started to heal - and Ben had run. Run without looking back, leaving a death certificate and open wounds behind him.

Is Sarah still alive?

The question stops him cold, staring through the window and the pieces of galaxy he’s passing. If Sarah is alive, he would have to see her, too. That’s a promise he made himself a long time ago - that he wouldn’t choose between them. He was the one who held the family together. He’d always been that.

The Benzaiten in his head, the person he isn’t sure he is yet - anymore - tells him she loves you.

Ben, here and now, tells him she shot you.

Both of those things are true. And when Ben pulls away from the window, he tells himself that’s what he’s afraid of, that someone he loved hurt him and could do it again, that he might let them in the foolish, stupid need to find out if the love was still there somewhere under all of the hurt. To know trying hard enough could mean getting better.

If there’s another fear, if he can feel the gravity of Mars pulling him back and down and heavy, he doesn’t let himself think it. And he’s gotten pretty good at deception, so he might even believe it.

~~~

Ben dances more, when he remembers dancing. Nothing feels as free as the movement, as his total control over it. Not even the stars.

How much of his running was escape, and how much was just running?

~~~

He still calls himself Ben.

He has his reasons. “Benzaiten” is too memorable, and sharing a face and a last name with a sibling seems like a really good way to get that sibling into trouble. There’s a reputation in place already with the name he used. There are days when he doesn’t feel like he fits in Benzaiten’s life. He finds plenty of reasons.

He doesn’t visit. He thinks about it, comes close - as close as a planet and one ticket fare away, once - but Ben can’t bring himself to step foot in Hyperion City. Hyperion belongs to Juno, somehow. He was the one who stayed (I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight), and going home feels like... trespassing. Ben knows Juno wouldn’t say that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

Hyperion City has a newspaper, though, and a subscription service that seems a little optimistic in its range. Maybe not all that optimistic, since Ben regularly takes advantage of it - between jobs, and only on his personal comms. Most of it has nothing to do with him, but he skips and skims through the digitized pages anyway, looking for whatever hints of a life he can find. Juno is a private investigator now, which doesn’t surprise Ben. There’s an engagement announcement and no following marriage announcement, which does.

(Sarah is guilty, and dead, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t linger on the thought.)

Sometimes, when he feels brave, he imagines what it could be like. So what’s this about a gala at that new art gallery? You know, the one that lasted a whole night before it got blown up?

Juno’s laughter from the other side of the comms connection, maybe a little too young. Uh huh, I heard. The HCPD put it all over the news, along with how they saved the day. Or didn’t you hear that part?

They can say whatever they want, I know a Juno Steel case when I see one. Now, Ben adjusts on the bed, miles and miles away, glancing at the window to see if he can get a peek back the way he came, tell me everything.

Maybe the next time you come to see me, Juno says, and just like that the thought disintegrates. He can never put too many words in Juno’s mouth; there are just too many things he doesn’t know.

Ben gets lucky one day and sees a whole half a picture of Juno, looking out on a crowd. He’s not the focus - he’s standing next to some politician in the middle of a speech, a Ramses O’Flaherty who makes a lot of promises that sound like the “too good to be true, but wouldn’t it be nice” kind - but Ben will take what he can get. He can’t decide if Juno has more or less scars than he would have expected, given his line of work. He wonders how they all got there. Juno is standing on the stage with the politician; he must buy some of those promises to put himself so clearly in the man’s corner.

There’s a kind of worry in his gut about it, but Ben tries to take it as a good sign. The Juno he knew had a hard time trusting people; it would be nice if he’d found someone to believe in. It would be nice if that trust is well-placed.

Ben has to leave his comms behind for a job, taking a burner along instead, so he gets the results of the election at the same time he gets the announcement of O’Flaherty’s death and the conspiracy over Newtown. It doesn’t have to mean anything - just another politician who wasn’t what he seemed to be, or didn’t manage to hang on long enough to make good on his promises. That’s all it is.

He still looks for Juno in the stories he reads. He can’t seem to find him, anymore.

~~~

For the first time since they were nineteen, Benzaiten sees Juno across the room.

For a moment, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. A ridiculous thought, from the dead twin.

Juno Steel is so far away from Hyperion City, talking to Zolotovna in a resplendent dress as if he’s lived the kind of life that makes him belong, immediately and implicitly, among the disgustingly rich. Ben, who is there for a reason, he knows he’s there for a reason but fuck if he can remember why, tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He’s failing at that, he knows.

But Juno is here. Juno is here in the room with him, so different than he remembers, with so many more scars. With one less eye. Ben wants to ask when that happened, wants to demand that story, just as much as he wants to fade into the crowd and run.

He feels untethered; he feels like, if he runs, he’ll never find his way back again. Just this once, Ben lets himself understand that the tug of gravity pulling him back was never a leash around his neck as much as it was a rope around his middle - giving him a way back home. Juno had always been his anchor, keeping him from drifting too far.

There’s no going back, now. There’s no going home, no home to go back to.

Juno’s glance turns in his direction, and Ben is about to duck out of the way - an amateur move, guaranteed to catch his sibling’s eye, but he thinks he can be forgiven for being a little bit off his game - when Ben realizes he’s not who Juno is looking for. A man slips by him, tall and confident and familiar in a way that tells Ben exactly why he should be familiar. Juno can’t seem to help the way his face changes when he spots the man.

So the thief grabbed at Juno’s heart and pulled him away from Hyperion. That’s why Juno is here. It’s... infuriating, because there’s no way a common con deserves Juno Steel. Because it was never a thought in Ben’s head that Juno could be convinced to leave Hyperion, and he never thought to ask. (I do not intend to run. Running was Ben’s job.)

Ben is ready to do something stupid. He’s halfway across the ballroom, walking directly towards his brother well and aware that the impact will cause an explosion of a scene, when he sees Juno tilt his head.

There’s a comms in his ear.

Ben has been a thief long enough to recognize the habits of another thief - especially a new one.

He doesn’t remember what he came to this event for, but there’s nothing, mark or prize or job, that Benzaiten wants more than to understand the stranger in the dress who almost has his face. If he breaks something with an impulsive decision, he thinks as he continues to cross the room, well - wouldn’t be the first time.

He’ll let himself be selfish. That’s what Ben does.

[detective-giggles]

Proposal Prep

5 times Carlos asks for permission to marry TK and the time he finally asks TK.

My second Tarlos fic, in a convenient 5+1 format!

Thank you to the wonderful Sarah for the beta, and thank you to Jae and Rae for cheerleading this fic (when I was starting and when I switched courses halfway through!)

Word count: 3264

***

1. Judd + Grace

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” Grace offered, watching intently as Carlos added the finishing touches to their dinner.

Carlos looked up owlishly. “No, it’s okay, thanks.  Actually, it’s all ready. If you guys want to have a seat, I’ll finish bringing it all over.” He slipped on an oven mitt and paused, watching as Judd pulled out the chair for Grace and kissed her softly on the cheek before taking his own seat next to his wife.

“We waitin’ on TK?” Judd asked, noticing the table was missing a setting.

“Uh, no. He’s on shift until tomorrow morning.” Carlos forced a smile as he placed the serving platter in the middle of the table.  He was nervous, although he knew that was ridiculous. He’d been hanging out with the 126 since he and TK became a couple, and everyone had always supported their relationship. “But I wanted to talk to you guys about TK. About us.” He added, dishing up a large serving on each plate in lieu of making eye contact with his guests.

Grace took a small sip of her wine and exchanged glances with her husband. “So you thought you’d wine and dine the old married couple for relationship advice?”

Carlos’ eyes widened. “What? No! Of course not! I don’t need- I mean, we’re good. TK and I, we’re really good.” He took a large drink from his own glass before continuing. “In fact, I’m going to ask TK to marry me?”

He watched as Judd attempted to look surprised and Grace, usually always composed, let out the tiniest squeal.

“You done?” Judd huffed a laugh at his wife’s reaction and shook his head, turning back towards Carlos. “Well, are you askin’ us? Or tellin’ us?” he asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Judd!” Grace chastised.

“What? I ain’t said nothin’.”

“Um, asking,” Carlos piped up. He hesitated when both sets of eyes turned towards him and Grace cocked her head to the side. “Officially. I know I could just ask Owen, but that doesn’t seem right. You guys are all family.”

Judd nodded slowly, and Carlos let out a sigh of relief when a large grin spread across Judd’s face. “Hell yes! You two are always acting like lovesick fools. It’s about damn time!”

“Thanks, Judd.”

“Oh, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t ask me to be in it.”

Carlos and Grace laughed. “I think we can honor that,” Carlos promised. “But I will need your help if you’re up for it. I want to talk to Tommy and Nancy tomorrow morning. And obviously I’ll need someone to distract TK.”

“Hmmm. I’ll think of something.”

2. Tommy + Nancy

“Hey, Carlos.” Tommy smiled warmly as Carlos slipped into the fire station.  He had a drink carrier in one hand, and he gave a small wave with the other.

“Carlos!” Nancy popped her head out of the ambulance, her hands full of supplies. “You just missed your boy. Judd just pulled him out of here!” 

“Yeah, that was intentional.” Carlos explained as he held the carrier out in offering. Tommy and Nancy each eagerly grabbed a cup and Carlos took the remaining cup and tossed the carrier in the bin.

“Okay, what’s going on, Reyes?” Tommy asked, sipping at the warm coffee. “This looks like a bribe.”

“I would just like to make it clear, that I’m okay with a caffeine-filled bribe. Especially at the end of a 24-hour shift.” Nancy piped up.

“Can we all talk? Maybe somewhere a little more discreet than your office?” Carlos tucked his hand into the pocket of his jeans and looked around furtively.

“Sure.” Tommy’s face turned from amusement to concern. She led the way upstairs, to the bunkroom the paramedics used on their overnights. It was smaller than the one on the firefighter side, but it was cozier. (Not that Carlos had snuck in there a time or two with TK or anything.)

Tommy and Nancy dropped into a bunk and Carlos slowly sat onto the one across from them.

“What’s up?” Nancy asked, eyeing Carlos carefully.

“So, TK and I have been together for a while and things are… well, kind of amazing. I still don’t know how we were lucky enough to find each other but I am so grateful for every day we have had together, and I want to make sure that we have many more of them.” Carlos looked around and then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Tommy, Nancy… I want to ask TK to marry me. And I want to know that you guys would be okay with it.”

“Carlos…”

“I know I don’t have to ask, but if I’m going to do this, I want to do it right. And you guys are family.”

“Dude, you can’t make me ugly cry this early in the morning! That’s like, the sweetest thing.”

“So they’re happy tears?”

Nancy wrinkled her nose and sniffled before nodding. “Can I give you a hug?” Carlos nodded and Nancy joined him on the bunk, wrapping her arms around him.  “I’m going to speak for us both,” Nancy began, “You have been so good for TK. He’s so…happy. When he’s with you, he knows he’s safe. We know he’s safe.”

“You know, Austin really isn’t that dangerous of a town.” Carlos chuckled softly at his lame joke.

“You know what she means. We know you’re not going to break his heart.” Tommy smiled.

Carlos took a moment to look both women in the eye. “I won’t. I promise.”

3. Gwyn

“Gwyneth Morgan speaking.”

Carlos took a deep breath, “Hey! Gwyn!  It’s Carlos.”

“Carlos?”

“Yes. Carlos… Reyes… Um, TK’s Carlos.”

He heard Gwyn’s flustered chuckle and a screech- courtesy of TK’s baby brother. Carlos winced, he had forgotten about the baby- and the slight time difference. “Right, Carlos! I’m sorry, it’s bedtime and a zoo around here.” There was a slight pause and a sigh. “What happened? Who’s hurt?”

“What? No! No, no. Everyone’s fine! TK and Owen are both- I’m sorry, Gwyn, I didn’t mean to worry you. They’re both fine.” Carlos groaned softly when he remembered part of the reason he had met Gwyn was after TK had been seriously injured. Admittedly, it was weird to be contacted out of the blue by your son’s boyfriend, he didn’t blame her for being worried.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Carlos paused and the awkward silence made his stomach flip. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He stood, pacing back and forth in his living room.

“Okay…”

“You know, you’ve raised a good son. TK is smart, he’s funny, he has a gentle soul. He’s amazing. I honestly thought someone like TK only existed in my dreams.  Now that I have him, I know I don’t want to let him go.  Gwyn, I want to ask TK to marry me, and I want your blessing.”

“Oh… That is not what I was expecting. I, uh, have you talked to Owen yet?”

“No, not yet. I will, I just haven’t had the chance.”

Gwyn sighed. “Look, Carlos. I like you; I really do.  I have seen you two together, and I think you’re good for him.  You’re a good influence on my son. He has grown up a lot since he’s been in Austin, and I know that at least some of that is because of you.”

“But?”

“I just- he’s my son and I love him more than anything. Even when he makes it difficult. I need to know that you’ll do the same. You say you love him when he’s at his best. But I need to know you’ll love him at his worst.”

“Gwyn, I promise. TK is important to me, and so is his sobriety.  I will continue to support him in any way that I can. I believe in him. And I don’t want him to fall- but I assure you, if he does, I will always be there to catch him.”

“I know you will. And yes, Carlos, I would be honored to have you as a son-in-law.”

4. Marjan, Paul, & Mateo

“Alright! Here you go.” Carlos set a tray full of tacos on the table in front of the remaining members of TK’s firefam.  He wasn’t as nervous as he had been before talking with Judd and Grace, but Mateo was eyeing him suspiciously and that was putting him a little on edge.

Everyone grabbed a taco and ate in silence for a minute. Everyone except for Mateo, that is.

“Ohhh, these are delicious!” Paul grabbed another taco. “You’re not eating?” he nudged Mateo.

“This is weird. Why are we here?” Mateo asked, crossing his arms, “and where’s TK?”

“We can have lunch with our friend, Mateo, it’s okay.” Marjan paused and set her taco back onto her plate. “But it is a little weird. You two are usually joined at the hip. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to talk to you guys. About me,” he shrugged, “and TK.

“I knew it. There’s something going on. You’ve been acting weird.” Mateo accused.

“I have not!”

“You have been acting a little weird.” Paul confirmed.

“You’re breaking up, aren’t you?”

“What? No! Mateo, we’re not breaking up.”

“Yes. This is exactly what happens when parents get divorced, and then the kids have to decide who they’re gonna live with and who they’re gonna spend holidays with.” Mateo crossed his arms and leaned on the table. “Well, I’m sorry Carlos, but TK is like a brother to me. If you dump him, you’re gonna lose us all. Right, guys?”

Marjan sighed and wrinkled her nose. “Are you done?” she asked Mateo. Turning to Carlos she shrugged, “But he has a point.”

“No! That’s not- I didn’t bring you here for that, I swear!” Carlos looked at each of them in turn and he had to bite back a smile. As obnoxious as this was becoming, it made his heart happy to hear how fiercely they were willing to protect TK. He glanced back at Paul.  Paul hadn’t taken his eyes off Carlos, watching his reactions very carefully.

“They’re not breaking up.” Paul piped up.

“Thank you!”

“They’re getting married!” He added slowly.

Carlos nodded. “I’ve known you for years and it’s still creepy when you do that.”

“What? You proposed and didn’t tell us?” Marjan pouted.

“No! Not yet! But that’s why I brought you here. To tell you. Well, to ask you. TK is your family, you all just proved it. So, I’m asking your permission to ask TK to marry me.”

Paul cocked his head to the side. “Huh. I didn’t see that coming.”

“Oooh something you couldn’t predict?” Marjan teased before turning back to Carlos.  “You’re really asking us?”

“I am.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm? What kind of answer is that?” Paul asked. “You know what? Yes. Carlos, yes. What you two share is beautiful and I, for one, can not stand between that.”

“Thanks, Paul.” They both looked at Marjan and Mateo expectantly.

After a few long moments, Marjan let out a whoop. “Carlos, Paul’s right, we can’t say no.  We’ve seen you two together and you two are already way too much like a married couple. Just make it official, please.”

“Thanks, Marj. Mateo? Thoughts?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool, I guess.”

“Way to sound excited.” Marjan gave him a little nudge. “What’s up?”

“Are you guys gonna have kids and forget about us?”

“What kind of question is that?” Paul rolled his eyes.

“No. I mean, yes, we’ve talked about kids, Mateo. But it’s not something we’d do right away. And we’ll still be around to hang out with you guys. We won’t abandon the 126.”

 “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Mateo nodded. “Alright. Go ahead.”

5. Owen

“Hey, Carlos! Come in. You didn’t have to knock, you used to live here. Don’t you still have a key?” Owen said as he pulled open the door and then stepped aside, closing the door once Carlos had moved past him.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think about it.”

“Well, come on. Do you want something to drink?” Carlos followed Owen to the kitchen and leaned heavily against the counter.

“No, thanks, Owen. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, Carlos. Have a seat. Is everything okay?”

Carlos nodded as he dropped into the chair opposite of Owen. “Yes. Everything’s fine. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I know you have a shift in a bit, so I’m just going to get to the point.  I’d like to ask your permission to ask TK to marry me.”

“You know, I remember the day TK brought his ex, Alex, home.”

“Sir?” Carlos had heard a few Alex stories, all from TK’s point of view, but he was morbidly curious what the elder Strand thought of TK’s ex.

“We had dinner, takeout from somewhere. Alex was nice, polite. It was relatively un-remarkable.  So he leaves, and TK asks me what I think.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t.” Owen confirmed. “Anyway, TK asks what I think, and I tell him.  I tell him that I don’t think Alex is right for him, and honestly, I think he knows it too.  I also tell him that when he finds the right person, he’s gonna know it and he’s not gonna care what I think.”

Carlos nodded slowly. He felt like he knew where Owen’s story was going to go, but really wished Owen would put him out of his misery.

“So, we move here and fast forward to a year or so ago. You two had only been official for a few weeks. It was the night you joined us for dinner at the firehouse before your shift.  TK walks you out and he comes back into the kitchen, and I tell him that I like you. I think you’re a good fit.  And TK, he gives me this shit-eating grin and tells me he’s glad I like you but that he doesn’t care what I think.”

Carlos laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Carlos, he is so happy when he’s with you. I see the way he lights up when you walk into a room. This move to Austin has been healing for him, and I know you’re a large part of that.  I just want what’s best for him, and I’ve seen you enough to know, that’s you.”

“Gwyn pretty much said the same thing.”

“It’s true. But you knew I was going to say yes, right?”

Carlos chuckled, “I had assumed that, yes. But it’s still nice to hear.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just promise me you two won’t go elope or anything like that. TK’s mother will kill me if she doesn’t get to watch her son get married.”

“I cannot promise that. But no matter where or when, I promise that you and Gwyn will both be invited.”

“Good enough. Thank you, Carlos.”

+1 TK

Carlos hummed to himself as he checked the food he had in the oven. TK would be home any minute and tonight was the night. It had been a week since he’d talked with Owen and the firefam was getting impatient. He fielded at least one text from Nancy every shift after TK would show up sans ring, sometimes Paul and Marjan would join in. Grace had taken over as unofficial wedding planner and occasionally sent him color schemes and venue ideas- and he didn’t know how long he could keep hiding his messages from TK.

His phone beeped and he glanced at it, groaning a little when he saw Nancy’s name flash on the screen.  “Tonight, Nance, I promise! I’m doing it tonight!”

“Um, hey listen, so TK’s okay- he’s fine! But we’re at Austin General.”

Carlos paused and he realized his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to turn the oven off.  “So when you say fine…”

“He’s fine, I promise! I’m certain he’s going to need a few stitches, but really, on the scale of TK’s injuries, this is nothing to worry about.” Nancy tried to explain. “He’s asking for you.”

“I’m on my way” he promised. Carlos grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

***

“Hey, baby.” Carlos paused at the foot of TK’s bed. His boyfriend looked fine.  There weren’t any obvious injuries, but the fact they hadn’t released him was still causing Carlos a little anxiety.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Nancy stood and gave TK’s arm a little squeeze. She paused as she passed by Carlos. “I think the tie’s a little much,” she whispered, giving the offending silk a playful tug.

“Go on, get out of here.” Carlos made his way to the seat Nancy had vacated.   “Hey, you okay?” Carlos gently smoothed TK’s hair back and kissed the top of his head.

“Yeah.” TK gestured to his leg. “It’s just a few stitches, nothing to worry about. They’re just keeping me overnight to monitor for infection. Um, why are you all dressed up?” TK chewed on his bottom lip. “Did you have something planned?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I didn’t change after Nancy called me. I just came straight here.”

“I’m sorry. I told her to tell you I was fine and not to worry.”

“She did. And I worried anyway.”

TK chuckled, “Carlos, I-”

“TK, the thought of losing you makes me crazy.”

“Ohhh, babe. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” TK reached out and gently caressed Carlos’ cheek. “Which, I know that would sound a lot more comforting if I wasn’t currently in a hospital bed.” Carlos caught TK’s hand and turned his head, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“No, I know. I just- I guess what I was saying is…” Carlos paused, wondering how actually crazy he was to still be considering proposing under the circumstances.  “Marry me, TK, please?”

TK gave Carlos a puzzled look. “Is that really what you were going to do tonight? This isn’t some knee-jerk reaction to this?” he gestured vaguely around the hospital room.

Carlos swallowed hard and nodded, pulling the small, velvet box from his pocket.  “I’ve been planning for weeks. I asked your dad. And Gwyn. And, um, everyone else.”

“Everyone?”

“Judd, Grace, Tommy, Nancy, Paul, Mateo, Marjan… The whole crew.”

“You really did all that for me?” TK’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, and they all said yes faster than you are.  Also, I think Grace has already started making plans, so she’s going to kill you if you don’t say yes.”

“Carlos! Of course the answer is yes!” Carlos leaned in and wrapped his arms around TK, giving him a tight squeeze. TK tipped his head up for a kiss and Carlos obliged, keeping it short and sweet, considering their current location.  Carlos plucked the ring out of the box and slipped it onto his fiancé’s finger.

TK shifted to the side and patted the bed next to him.

“No, TK.”

TK looked up at Carlos, his eyes wide and innocent as he tapped the bed again. “Come sit.”

“You’re gonna get me kicked out of the hospital.” Carlos mumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed. “And then you’ll have to spend your first night engaged alone.” Carlos toed off his shoes and settled himself on the bed, carefully, and TK tucked himself into Carlos’ side.

“Even if we have to spend tonight apart, we’ll have plenty more nights together.”

“A lifetime of them.” Carlos promised.

 **

A/N: This is actually the longest fic I’ve ever written. Random: The bit with Owen is based on a true conversation my husband had with his dad right after he started dating me.

[oumaheroes]

Spain + France bromance pls 🥺 or maybe bro-fight? Bonus points for mention of England or Port; bonus bonus background fruk or engport 🙏🏼

Oh yes indeedy Madam

Word Count: A tasty 990

---

An Unfortunate Reminder

At the first possible opportunity to stand up and move about, Spain left his place by his boss and wove his way across the room to talk to France, ‘Why are you wearing that?’

France reared back, startled and visibly offended, ‘Excuse me?’

Spain gestured to his outfit, ‘That. Why are you wearing that?’

‘What do you mean, “That”,’ France shook his head, briefly unable to speak, ‘This is Dior, darling, Dior,’ he stroked one of his lapels with the pads of his fingers, smoothing out non-existent creases and looking somewhat disgusted, ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘No,’ Spain laughed and nudged him on an arm. France immediately brushed him off with distain, ‘no, I mean why are you wearing a suit all done up like that. Your collar is so high and you’ve still got a tie on!’ It wasn’t that France looked bad, not at all, but he did look somewhat… out of place. Although their leaders and government were in official meetings, the day was a hot one and everyone had loosened or shed some amount of clothing. Even for Spain this was warm and Spain was rarely a nation bothered by heat.

‘Oh,’ relieved it was not his taste in clothing that was under scrutiny, France relaxed, ‘I don’t understand your question,’ standing, he collected his things into his bag and moved off out of the room and into the corridor.

Spain followed, hot on his heels, ‘Take your tie off and undo a button or two, it’s too hot.’

‘I am fine as I am, Toni.’

‘No, you’re not, you’re sweating.’

Two delicate spots of pink appeared on France’s cheekbones and his hand twitched as if he had stopped himself from moving it to check, ‘I’m sure you’re imagining things.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘What’s that tone for?’

‘Nothing,’ Spain moved out of the way of an intern who came scurrying down the corridor with a jug of iced water, ‘Just that you’re being an idiot.’

‘I am not, I am at a perfect temperature.’

‘Then why are you sweating.’

France stopped suddenly, turning fast about on his heel and had Spain had worse reflexes he would have crashed right into him, ‘I do not sweat,’ France paused, looking awkward suddenly, ‘I don’t smell, do I?’

Spain leant forward close to smell him, ‘No, you smell fine.’

France sighed, ‘Good.’

‘Come on, what is it? You’ll give yourself heatstroke, just undo a button or two and loosen the tie, you’ll still look professional,’ Spain couldn’t understand the problem, France’s own president was wearing less, ‘The air con won’t be fixed until tomorrow and it’ll look really bad for me if you go fainting in front of the press.’

‘Oh, stop it, I won’t do that,’ France leant against the wall and glanced about the hallway, ‘I can’t undo anything.’

‘Why not?’

France gave an irritated tut and waved a hand uselessly, ‘It won’t be decent and there are going to be photos later on. I do at least like to make an attempt at being professional.’

‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’

France glanced down the corridor again, ‘Okay, fine. Come here.’

Spain, who was already rather close, blinked at him, ‘Er?’

‘God,’ France grabbed hold of his shoulders and manoeuvred Spain about to block the view of anyone coming from the meeting room they’d just left, ‘Don’t laugh,’ he said, tugging his tie loose and undoing the first button on his shirt, ‘don’t you dare.’

‘Sure, whatever, I won’t lau- is that a hicky!?’

‘Shhh!’ right at the hollow of France’s next was a large, dark purple love bite. France covered it back up again quickly and hissed at him, ‘Shut up! Don’t laugh!’

‘Oh my God!’

'Toni!’

‘Who gave you that?’

‘England,’ France’s face had a dark look and he swiftly tightened his tie to sit snugly over the top of the bruise, ‘I met him for dinner last night and he didn’t go home again afterwards.’

This was the best thing that had happened all day. Spain was gleeful, ‘That is hideous.’

‘I know,’ France groaned, ‘The fucking bastard. He knew I had this meeting too and I bet he deliberately chose to do it right there to make things difficult.’

Knowing England, Spain could believe this.

‘And now I have to stand about trussed up all day in the middle of a heatwave and I can’t take anything off because you can’t hide it. Because of where it is, I can’t even put make up on it otherwise it’ll rub off and ruin the shirt and- are you even listening to me? Stop staring.’

France looked so very incredibly sorry for himself that Spain couldn’t help but feel the smallest amount of pity, ‘It’s not actually…not really- I mean you could-‘

France gave him a flat look, ‘Don’t bother, I’m well aware of how it looks. It’s a travesty.’

‘Pffft-‘

France groaned and made to walk off again. Spain grabbed his arm, ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But it’s bad.’

‘Wow. Thank you. I was unaware, I’ve been dressed up like this for fun.’

‘Don’t be like that; let’s go out for lunch. We can find somewhere with AC?’ Spain slipped his arm around France’s elbow, ‘I’ll get it- an apology for my hotel’s air con not working. It’ll make you feel better.’

France raised an eyebrow, ‘If I remember correctly, my dear, it’s your turn to get it anyway.’

‘Oh, is it? I’m sure you’re mistaken; the heat must have gone to your head. I’ll forgive you though, I don’t want you to get upset and start sweating through your fancy blazer.’

‘Ugh, just get me out of here. Maybe England is still in the country and I can kill him.’

‘Blood will certainly hide it.’

‘It’s good for the skin too.’

Spain stopped, ‘Is it?’

France sighed, ‘Not enough to be worth ruining a perfectly innocent suit.’

‘Oh. Shame.’