#the way his eyes immediately start watering/get glassy like he might cry

[gingerwerk]

I know I’ve said it before but one of my favorite things Timothy does is how instantly he makes raylan act irritated/upset when he’s around arlo, regardless of the context of their conversation

[hollowtakami]

HEYOOO

so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying

Man he is so sweet

hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)

(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)

keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.

he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.

the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.

what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.

what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.

pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.

your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.

no, an instinctual feather did so.

you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.

there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.

“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.

sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.

no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.

“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.

keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.

your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.

“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.

keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.

you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.

“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.

he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.

keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.

“bad..” he gestured to himself.

“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.

soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.

you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.

kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”

keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.

but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.

the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.

your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.

it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.

[filthforfriends]

Guardian Angel: Deleted Scene

Chapter 7: Love(ing) Bites alternate plot

“I have an idea!” You sit upright, shoving the bedding around so you are level. “Thalia had this holistic medicine hyperfixation.”

“Hence the pressure points. Thank you, by the way.” It was such an intimate moment that you don’t know how to respond. 

“Well  I – yeah, she also told me about the exercise for intimacy that uses your heartbeat so its…” Damiano sits up and mirrors you, cross legged. “I put my legs over yours and then your right hand.” You scoot a little closer, but stop yourself from climbing onto Damiano’s lap and wrapping your legs around him. Taking Damiano’s right hand, you put it on your heart. Then you realize that to be right above your heart Dami has to adjust the position of your breast slightly so keep the moment from being immediately electrically charged is pointless.

“I put my hand on your heart, and you hold it there like – yeah, okay.” Damiano’s hands were warm, heavy, and reassuring, whether on our chest or cupping your hand. Unfortunately, Dami kept having to readjust his hand by fighting with your underwire, so you admit defeat and take off your bra. After that, everything fell into place and it didn’t feel awkward and performative.

“Now what?” he asks, eyes flicking down to your boobs then back up to your face at a rapid pace.

“We’re just supposed to hold eye contact and just…focus on how it feels.” Damiano nods then looks at your eyes. You look into the hazel galaxy of his iris, focused on not gazing to one side but holding his gaze simultaneously. Looking into each other's eyes immediately establishes an energy. Once you feel able to weather the intensity, you focus on how Damiano’s hand feels under your breast. Your nipples harden and you wonder if he can see in his periphery because he holds eye contact. His hand is splayed out on your chest, pressed against the supple tissue of your breasts. His thumb points inwards and you start to wonder how much this exaggerates the asymmetry between your boobs. Were they perky enough?

“Y/n?” You realize that you’d been through Damiano, rather than at him. Thalia had said that your mind went all kinds of places in tantra exercise. There was so little sensory input you didn't imagine that there would be so many damn thoughts to cope with.

“I was feeling self conscious,” you admit. 

“So was I. '' You want to demand about what? Had your boyfriend ever looked in a mirror? However these sentiments would mean looking at each other's bodies instead of eyes. This exercise wasn’t about meeting a checklist of criteria you had in your head. It wasn’t really about your bodies at all. Deciding to focus on your other hand, you shift slightly to get that thundering heartbeat under your palm. Damiano held your hand tighter. It was difficult to resist admiring his olive toned pectoral muscle. He was so toned from year round athletics, but not in the way that showed every line of musculature. You could just feel it, the sturdiness under a normal human layer of body fat. Like if you ever ran towards him he’d catch you without wobbling.

“Your eyes just got glassy.” God did you want to look away, to run from this level of visibility. That was probably the point, to force yourself to be seen.

“I was thinking about how steady you feel.”

“I want to be steadying for you, and anything else you need.” Now your eyes were watering, but you couldn’t look away. Trying to distract yourself while straight at Damiano was impossible and if you blinked a tear might fall. So you considered breaking, but when you went to look away Dami’s gaze kept you from running. He squeezed your hand and a couple tears fell.

“I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Okay.”

“I want to do this while you change. I want to see it happen up close.” Dami stops breathing. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“So many things,” he answers, and you can tell it's honest. He’s not being evasive. His eyes start to water as well and you can’t decide if this is a sign to stop or a sign to continue with more vigor.

“Are you about to cry because you’re overwhelmed?”

“Yes, I think so,” he whispers. You keep finding pockets of green and gold. Whenever the mapping of Damiano’s galaxy seems done you discover something new.

“Okay he sighs, eyes fluttering closed for a second, but they come back to yours. His hands don’t move so neither do yours.

“This is ridiculous.”

“It is,” he agrees and you can tell he’s smiling because of the creases in the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, three, two, one, break.” You drop your hands and look away, breathing in deep.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I’ve never heard of that before.” Now that you’re allowed, you're self indulgent with your appreciation of Damiano’s form. He rests back on his hands, head tilted to the sky and you can see his tan skin stretch over his breastbone. The position really highlights how thick and muscular his thighs are. You want to grab them, caress them, bite them. Was that just something you were always gonna feel in reaction to attraction? Would you just crave biting Damiano from now on?”

“What's that called again? Is it couples yoga?” Well, shit.

“Sorta. It's the tantric practice for, well…sex. “I really like the idea of respecting and appreciating each other as sexual beings, just genuinely. I think it can be, at least I’d like for there to be a possibility that sometimes sex can be sacred, in a way.” You look up from your hands to Damiano. Some people rolled their eyes as soon as energy was brought up.

“Please. That’s exactly what I want.” You hadn’t expected such unequivocal acceptance. You and Damiano both used humor when you were at any type of loss for what to say. This must show on your face.

“Of course, I want that. Baby, c’mere.” Dami pulled you closer to him by your outer thighs. “What's next?” He stopped himself from hauling you onto his lap by rubbing your thighs which was immensely distracting.

“One of the things is this.” Using your hands, you slide onto Dami’s lap. Once he realizes what you’re doing, he finishes the job himself, holding you tight against him.

“Arms loosely around torsos. No clutching in desperation.” He lets out a puff of air that would be imperceptible without such close proximity. “So you put your cheek to mine, mhm.” You have to shift around a bit to get comfortable sitting on Damiano’s crossed legs, then sit up straight.

“Thank god, if we did the staring thing like this I’d get a boner,” he jokes.

“You’d get hard from looking into my eyes up close?”

“With you in my lap, yeah. Is that embarrassing?”

“No. Tantric sex is supposed to create intimacy of great sex, before any penetration.” You could clarify that you don’t expect any dick today, but Dami knows there's no pressure.

“Is that why you like it? The intimacy?” You nod trying to collect your thoughts as Damiano splays his hands out on your back, covering more surface area.

“It seems like sex is about doing something so you can get something, but I don’t feel that way about…you. It seems alpha-omega intercoure can be super transactional, or it can transcend all the bullshit.”

“How do you feel about me?” This is why you’d hesitated, resistance to answering this question. Holding each other without seeing the other's face made these conversations possible.

“I don’t want our sex to be..bad, I guess.” That definitely wasn’t the word you were going for. “Not bad like you cum after five seconds. I don’t want it to be meaningless or…it means something to me, but I find out that for you it was just…fucking an omega or whatever.”

“Never. Never.” You folded your legs around Dami instead of just having them splayed out behind him. “I don’t want to knot you because it feels good to knot someone. I want to make you feel satiated and secure and relaxed. I want my body to do that to yours. I want to be there and watch how you react and feel that energy and just – just take care of you.” Without thinking about it, you express your affection by kissing Dami’s shoulder. But then the kisses, turn to sucking, which turns to teeth and his skin feels so good against your teeth. With every shift his musculature changes under your mouth and you can sense the inner workings of Damiano’s body on your tongue, between your jaw.“And I know you feel the same because you’re gnawing on me again, kitten.” Gnawing? Did he say gnawing? Who’s gnawing on him? Oh shit that's me. You sit bolt upright, shocked with yourself. Dami chuckles good-naturedly at the shocked expression on your face.

@crysxtal @stardustingold @persona1read1ng @harryssshouseee @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx @icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk @maneslut @katyldamusic @the-chaotic-cow @softmullet @mortyandem @elvirabelle @slavicgoddess13

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 15

(masterpost)

another exercise in triggering col, haha. ever since ive had whumpy daydreams as a child ive liked thinking about the caretaker brushing the whumpees teeth. this was meant to be fluffier but i like how it's become something unique to colton <3

CW: NSFW, triggered whumpee, heavy references to n0ncon oral sex, dehumanisation, pet whump

-

Something was bothering Linden as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror one morning. He could hear the uncertain thumps of Col’s footsteps downstairs- sometimes he could hear him dragging his feet, scared to lift them entirely off the ground. He turned his attention back, trying to figure out what was annoying him.

Then he realised, as he looked into the small jar on the side of the sink. Col’s toothbrush was bone dry. There weren’t even flecks of toothpaste down the handle. He frowned. He really, really couldn’t let that happen. He thought about how if Colton only spoke, he might have noticed sooner, might have caught it on his breath, but he stopped himself. It’s not his fault.

The bathroom looked directly through to the staircase, and as Linden walked out he caught the familiar pair of eyes peering up at him, before Col quickly drew himself back behind the wall.

But Linden had seen him, and they both knew it. It was as if Col could tell already that he was in trouble. He rarely pulled back from Linden in any way, but today he was already halfway across the room by the time Linden had descended the stairs.

“Have you been brushing your teeth?” he asked plainly, not knowing how else to go about it.

Col shook his head, of course he did, but there was a brief second where Linden could see that he was considering lying. He liked that.

. . .

Pet had to confess, but it made him feel hot and prickly with fear. He had been bad. Master’s voice was firm and clipped. He was disappointed in him.

“You have to,” Master ordered, and Pet nodded immediately. Okay, okay, I will. I won’t hesitate. “Why haven’t you so far? Were you- was it because you thought you weren’t allowed? Or were you… scared to? Does it hurt?”

Pet’s head started to spin, and he cringed hard as Master sighed, heavy with frustration. “Sorry, sorry. Way too many questions, I know. Besides, it’s not- wait!” Master suddenly looked up at his pet intensely, and like a poorly-behaved dog, he flinched. Master hardly seemed to notice, though, as he continued, “You said the other day, didn’t you, that you can’t hold a pencil well? It’s hard to grip it? Is it… is the toothbrush too hard to hold properly?”

How did he know? Pet nodded, defeatedly. He had tried, fuck, he really had, fighting a losing battle in the wee hours until he could have wept with frustration. He glanced down at his hands. For a brief moment there weren’t clean and unbound, they were bleeding, the wire was cutting into him, cutting to the bone it felt, and he could barely twitch without the pain shooting all the way up his arms. The memories were so real, sometimes. And wasn’t it helpful that the pain never truly left? It had followed him from his old owner’s house to the streets all the way to Master’s front door and beyond, a phantom trailing along his joints, keeping him reminded of his place.

“That’s okay. I can help.”

Master’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, thankfully, and as he turned to stride upstairs Pet followed him meekly, hands cradled before him.

He was ordered to sit on the lid of the toilet while Master busied himself. It made Pet stiffen up. It looked eerily similar to when his old owner had something big planned, and he made his slave sit helplessly and watch. When Master turned to him, holding the toothbrush like a weapon, the association was so strong that it made Pet whimper and duck his head. Oh, god, he was so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Master said, and it truly sounded like there was feeling behind the words, like he really meant it. It was cruel. “I don’t have a choice.”

You do, Pet thought, even though it was disobedient. Master always has a choice. Master controls everything.

“This is for your own good,” he said. “You understand, Col?”

Oh, Pet understood well. He had endured many horrors for his own good, and this was not among the worst. He would gladly submit to Master’s strange ritual.

But then- “I promise it won’t be too bad. Can you open up?”

Pet gasped. He was back, he was back there, not again, please please please not again. He was strung up and completely defenceless. He wasn’t in control, he never had been, he was an object and he was being used.

He opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue sit over his teeth. Master punished him if it even looked at if he’d try to bite. The corners of his vision started to gloss over.

Then. A hand gently brushed his jaw. Fingers pressed into his skin. Holding him in place? Making sure he stayed good?

He let out a pathetic cry of fear.

. . .

“Col, Col, I’m so sorry, I can tell you’re scared,” Linden said, as Col’s eyes started to glaze over. He hardened his voice, “Col! Stay with me, sweet, come on. You’re being brave, come on.”

He should just get it over with, he realised, and pushed the toothbrush in. Col started to close his mouth, and Linden gripped a little harder on his jaw. He wanted to at least exhaust all his other options before he physically pulled the boy’s mouth open.

“Keep your mouth open, there we go. Now just hold still.”

I’m giving him orders. But it was the simplest way, it was so quick, it was to help the boy. Linden gritted his own teeth. He could worry about the ethics of it later.

Colton’s teeth weren’t as dirty as he’d feared, and Linden made light work of brushing them down. He checked in on Col every so often. His eyes were still glassy, but he seemed at least half-there.

“You okay?” A small huff of affirmation. “Good. Almost there.”

It felt so strangely intimate, brushing his teeth. As if he hadn’t already seen him stark naked in the damn bath. I dunno, he thought. I’m so close to him. He’s sitting so still. There’s nowhere to run.

He finished up just as a strand of frothy toothpaste started to crest over his lip and drip down his chin, some of it along Linden’s fingers. Col rinsed, scooping the water into his mouth with his hands in a rigid claw shape, and then looked in Linden’s direction for the next order.

“Well done, Col. That was important, and you sat there like a wonderful rock and made it so quick and easy. I’m very- I’m very happy with you. We’ll work on holding the toothbrush, yeah? But for now we can head downstairs and get on with the day.”

Col nodded, a bit dull, but Linden decided not to push him.

. . .

Pet felt himself coming back as soon as he was allowed to close his jaw. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. It felt as if Master had just brushed his teeth, like he said. And yet-

And yet he was rinsing out his mouth, and the taste wasn’t minty anymore but something far more foul, and he was being told how well he took it, how he made it so easy, how he made Master happy. He was back there because he could never escape, never truly.

Master finished talking, evidently, and turned to leave. Pet trailed after him, his eyes filling with tears, but he managed to keep his shaky breaths quiet. Master was happy with him and Pet’s feelings didn’t matter.

-

first half of the taglist!

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

[smuggsy]

i would love to see #11 for the prompt thing (just want to say i adore ur current ed/oswald/omc series btw im excited for more! <3)

owww, thank you so much <3 it's nice to hear ppl are actually enjoying it bc i've got almost no feedback. another chapter is coming soon (;

but now onto the whump below the cut. #11 “Please, let me help you.” 

Getting used to his impaired vision is no easy task, he'll admit. Now that the doctor's made a thorough job of cleaning the wound and administering antibiotics to prevent infection and prescribed him two different kinds of painkillers and now that the initial shock of it all has passed. Now it downs on Oswald that this is who he's going to be from now on, that watching his step carefully when he goes down the stairs and bumping into walls that are closer than they seem is something he's going to have to get used to. 

As if walking around with a limp and a cane wasn't demeaning enough already. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes it to the kitchen, everything is sunk in darkness and he fails to turn on the lights two times before he finally finds the switch.

He sees the switch. He knows where it is. It's always been there, in that exact same spot, and he's walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night to fix himself some tea countless times before.

Now the switch has moved.

"Urrgh," he grunts one more time as he turns around and collides against the kitchen aisle. He nearly grabs one of the chairs and tosses it across the room, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury coursing through his sleep-deprived mind.

There's a pang behind his eyepatch as if mocking his helplessness but he calms down soon enough, closing his good eye and taking a deep breath to brace himself against the counter. He manages to put the kettle on without any further incidents, but when he stands on his toes to reach the cabinet —how many times has he told Olga to keep that stupid tea-set at hand?!— he topples over and ends up sending two very nice cups to their deaths.

They crash on the floor with a piercing sound and Oswald startles and grits his teeth at the commotion. 

Deep breaths, deeeeeep breaths.

Choosing to ignore the incident he turns around to switch off the gas with trembling hands and pour the water into the one cup he did manage to obtain. 

Except, of course, his mind is still foggy from restless sleep and drugs so he misjudges the angle entirely and ends up pouring it all over his hand holding the teabag in place instead.

He lets out a yelp and drops the kettle instantly.

"Ow! Shit! Stupid little—!"

The water drips onto the floor unceremoniously as he tumbles over to reach the water tap and put his hand under it.

Ed barges into the place only half a minute later wielding a handgun, with hair sticking out and with his glasses askew. Oswald barely spares him a glance, blood boiling under his skin and dangerously close to the edge already.

"Oswald, what—"

"Nothing!" he blurts out almost immediately. Edward bearing witness to this mess is the last thing he needs right now, "just go away."

But, of course, he's Edward.

"What happened?" his friend asks, pistol forgotten on some nearby shelf and rushing over, words the slightest bit slurred by slumber and Oswald thinks lucky you, being able to get a wink of sleep, and takes another of those deep breaths that are doing a poor job of slowing down his heart rate. 

"What does it look like it happened, Ed?!"

Edward stares at him numbly and then his eyes dart around the place like he's only now taking it all in, seeing the shattered china on the floor and the pool of water by their feet. Immediately he brings both hands to Oswald's under the cold water from the tap and tugs at it.

"Let me see."

Oswald jerks him away.

"No— I'm fine!" he bites out, "go back to sleep."

Despite his ill-mannered humour, Edward doesn't move. Oswald doesn't look at him while he stands next to him in silence, letting the waters cool, clearly giving him a moment to backtrack on his request. And then, ever so softly, Ed's hands return, to his elbow this time. A touch too gentle it almost makes Oswald let out a whine — because he's tired, and aching, and sleepy and nothing turns out for him as of late.

"Please, let me help you."

His words are a caress in Oswald's ear. Barely there. Ed keeps his warm fingers on his arm and slowly brings the hand to his chest for inspection. Oswald lets him, this time. All energy seems to leave him with that puff of breath and he lets Ed guide him to one of those chairs he was contemplating taking all of his frustrations out on just a minute ago.

There's a slight hiss of sympathy.

"Should be alright with a little cream and a bandage," is Edward's assessment. 

Oswald rolls his eyes and fights down a sappy retort much like: yes, I know that, I'm not so incompetent that I need you here to issue an official diagnosis, just leave me to rage in peace. He nods tiredly instead, shoulders slumped and yawn unavoidable.

"I'll be right back," Ed says with a hoarse voice, moving around quickly despite his dishevelled appearance, looking perfectly awake now but sounding nothing like it. 

Oswald doesn't try to stop him. Because he knows it'll be a lost cause and because he's afraid if he starts poking too much at the situation he'll end up embarrassing himself and crying out his frustrations on Ed's shoulder.

Not ideal.

So he keeps silent instead, watching Ed's expert hands apply that cold salve on his knuckles and wrap his aching red-looking skin in a white bandage, giving up on not looking miserable because what's the point.

He is miserable.

"There, all done."

Ed pats him twice on the thigh as if comforting a hurting animal and Oswald can only offer a small scoff in return. He can smell Ed's shampoo from where he's standing so close and he keeps his eyes fixed on that loose crumpled white shirt he wears to sleep, afraid to look up into the gentle eyes he knows he'll find behind those glasses.

Because he might start blurting out stuff that shouldn't be blurt out if he does, as helpless and exhausted as he's beginning to feel.

"Now let's get you that cup of tea."

Ed turns around to make himself busy and Oswald takes the opportunity to scatter away.

"Where—"

"Sofa," he crooks out deadpan. 

That's where Ed finds him ten minutes later, staring at the unlit fireplace as if willing it to come to life on its own. Sitting on his usual spot with the lights off and a glassy look of resignation. 

"Chamomile," Ed says as he offers the steaming cup. Oswald doesn't have the heart to tell him he's changed his mind and would rather down a glass or two of that aged Scotch instead. He takes a sip without muttering out a word. Ed sits down just beside, clearly not taking the hint, "you're uncharacteristically quiet."

Oswald shrugs.

"Just tired," he offers, and then, only to put Ed's mind at ease, gives him a practised look of reassurance and a smile, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Edward turns the attention back to him, ignoring the clear dismissal implicit in the words.

"Did you go to sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"Is your eye bothering you?"

And then the Oswald from the kitchen returns without a warning and he lashes out.

"Goodnight, Ed."

Edward goes to speak again but stops himself when Oswald sends him a sharp menacing look. He looks nothing short of a kicked puppy as he gets on his feet and turns around to leave.

And then he doesn't leave.

"I could start a fir—"

"Goddamn it, Ed! Just leave me alone!"

And just like that the fourth and last cup of that lovely set ceases to exist, turned into another pile of shattered porcelain on the floor. Because Edward Nygma is a pain in his fucking ass, and he doesn't know how to read an indirect and back down and just disappear. He pokes and pokes and pokes—

—and when Oswald turns to look at him with that murderous glare, he sees no reaction from him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, from the very first moment he walked into that kitchen, to see just how much he could take, to push until he broke, to make him talk about it.

Oswald should have learnt to read Edward Nygma by now. Should’ve seen it coming.

As Ed strides back to him with purpose and swiftly sits back down on the sofa and leans in to wrap him into an embrace, Oswald understands he definitely still hasn't learnt to read Edward Nygma. 

"What are you doing?" he pushes him away half-heartedly with his good hand. Edward doesn't let go, an unmovable brick wall that cannot be swayed.

"I'm hugging you."

"Let go—"

"No."

Oswald blinks. Then lets out a breathless laugh. He can't seem to fathom any other reaction to this — provided this is actually happening. Provided it isn't a secondary effect of being drugged up to his eyeballs for a whole week, now. 

He stops trying to tug Edward away and instead slumps against him, head resting on a slim shoulder and cold and runny nose poking Ed's neck as he keeps giggling at the unprecedented gesture. 

Edward's hug is implacable but awkward. He doesn't move, his broad hands against Oswald's back just pin him in place almost in a possessive fashion. He's clearly unskilled in the ways of physical reassurance.

Oswald realises those nervous giggles he's letting out are actually sobs.

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: I Want It to be You

Summary: After Ladybug admits to Chat Noir that she told someone her identity, she insists that he do the same. He wants it to be her. She insists it has to be anyone else. He suggests they use the snake. She finds this to be a reasonable compromise. (Season 4 Spoilers)

Per the advice of this post, I only wrote the part that was fun to write. It’s a 90 minute speed-write. They’re on a roof somewhere. Please enjoy! 

...

“I understand needing to tell someone. I do!” Chat Noir insisted for the third time that night. “I just don’t understand why it can’t be you!”

Ladybug wouldn’t look at him.

“Do you not want to know?” he asked, his heart had fallen into his gut. 

She wilted. “I want to know more than anything.” 

“Then what’s stopping you?” 

“I can’t explain it,” she admitted. She looked at him with glassy eyes. “Can you trust me on this?” 

He met her gaze, but he didn’t have words. She was almost crying and he didn’t know if it was because of the thing she couldn’t share or if he had upset her with his pushing.

“I understand if you can’t. I understand if you’re mad.” 

He looked away. “I’m not mad,” he insisted. “I just don’t understand.”

They fell into an unhappy silence. 

“I can respect it, LB. You know that I can. I just don’t want to tell anyone else. I want you to be the first to know.” 

And then to his horror she started crying. 

“LB?” 

“I don’t deserve you,” she sobbed. 

“You deserve everything,” he countered. He held her then. And they didn’t say anything. Just sat together overlooking the city that they fought to protect. 

“What if we used the snake?” he interjected into the silence. 

Read on Ao3

She turned to him. “Huh?” 

“I will use the snake, and tell you who I am. Then if you still think you shouldn’t know, I will reset it and you won’t remember. Then in some weird way you’ll still have been the first to know, and if you still insist I can then tell someone else. ”

She considers. “Okay,” she finally relented. She immediately opens her yoyo and pulls out the Snake miraculous. She hands it to him with a smile.

Chat Noir’s hands started shaking. Whether it was with nerves or excitement, he couldn’t say. He was going to tell Ladybug who he was. And yeah, she wasn’t going to remember unless he could convince her, but still. He’d know her name. 

He slipped on the bracelet. “Plagg, Sass, unify.” And then he turned back to his partner, and she’s fidgeting from one foot to the other. He was relieved that he wasn’t the only one feeling the nerves. 

But somehow, her anxiety made his own vanish, and he smiled gently. And she mirrored his expression. “Second Chance,” he whispered. 

“Okay kitty, what’s your name?” she asked with a playful grin.

“Adrien. Adrien Agreste.” He can’t spit the words out fast enough. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He knew she would recognize the name. She had protected him as a civilian on more than one occasion, and she had recruited him as a temporary hero. So she knew him - at least a little bit. 

But whatever he had expected, he hadn’t expected her to start crying. And then she threw herself at him, and his arms automatically wrapped around her. 

“Buginette?” he prompted.

“W-why… Why did you have to be him?” she sobbed into his chest. And he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t understand why this has hit her so hard. 

“This makes a lot of things make sense,” she said. Her voice was so soft. He wasn’t sure if she meant for him to hear her. 

“Are you disappointed?” he finally managed to ask. 

She jerked back so hard he worried she might have given herself whiplash. But her blue eyes gazed at him, searching for what he did not know. 

“No!” she said. “Never.” And she said it with such conviction he couldn’t doubt it. Tension he hadn’t realized he was feeling dissipated. “This might actually be the best possible answer, but I can’t know who you are. You being Adrien makes that more true. Not less. I’m so sorry,” and she choked back another sob. 

And he realized that she wasn’t crying because of who he was, she was crying because she had to forget. He squeezed her tighter. 

“Why does my being Adrien mean you can’t know?”

She shook her head, wiping her tears from her eyes. And her demeanor shifted into battle mode. “We’re running out of time. You’re going to have to reset. When you do, ask me about Chat Blanc.” 

“Chat Blanc?” 

“I’ll explain! But you have to reset!” She was shouting at him now.

He nodded. And he flicked the bracelet. 

She was standing before him, no longer in his arms, but she was smiling. Fidgeting again, but smiling in eager anticipation. 

“Okay kitty, what’s your name?”

He offered her a small smile in return, but his eyes burned, threatening tears.

“Are you okay, Chaton?” 

“Will you tell me about Chat Blanc?” he asked. 

The blood drained from her face. “You’ve already been through a loop?” 

“You didn’t have enough time. You told me to ask you about Chat Blanc.”

She turned away from him, and toward the cityscape. “I hoped you would never learn about Chat Blanc. I’ve been trying to protect you from Chat Blanc.” 

“Please,” he begged. 

She drew in a shuddering breath. “Okay,” she agreed, but she didn’t say anything more. She continued to stare at the skyline. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he reminded her. 

“Chat Blanc was your akumatized form.”

His form went rigid. “Why don’t I remember?” 

“It hasn’t happened yet,” she whispered. Her jaw was quivering, her shoulders shaking. “I hope it never happens.”

He can’t stand it, and he yanked her against him. She remains limp in his embrace. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

She shook her head. “You could have killed me.” His eyes squeezed shut at those words. “But instead, you helped me figure out where your akuma was.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he joked, but he already knew it had to have been awful for her to be simultaneously trembling before him and monotone in her retelling. 

“The moon was in pieces.” 

“What?” 

“Hawkmoth had granted you the infinite power of destruction,” she told him. “And you destroyed… everything.”

He buried his head onto her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Her hands rubbed at the back of his neck soothingly. 

“No, don’t say that,” she told him. “It wasn’t your fault, and it hasn’t even happened.” 

“But you remember it,” he countered. And he understood how hard it was to remember something traumatic that no one else even knew had happened. 

She nodded. “The worst part was you were so clearly alone. I don’t know how long you had existed as an akuma when Bunnyx brought me there.”

He didn’t really care how long he had suffered alone. If he had destroyed everything, he felt he deserved it. He had to atone for his actions in some way, if only for falling victim to the akuma anyway. He didn’t say any of this outloud because he knew it would upset his partner. 

“The best part was you had killed Hawkmoth.” There was just a bit of warmth in her voice now, and he smiled.  

“At least I took him down with me.” His bracelet beeped in warning. He only had a minute left, though he supposed he hadn’t said anything yet that he needed erase. He just hated that he had made her cry. 

She looked up at him again, her eyes clear and serious. “Chat Blanc is why we can’t know each other’s identities,” she said.

“I don’t understand.” 

“I don’t either. Not completely.” She glanced down at their hands, which were completely entwined together. “But when I cleansed the akuma, you knew who I was. Bunnyx explained that it was our knowing each other’s identities that led to your akumatization. That we couldn’t know yet.”

His eyes watered and there was a rock lodged in his throat, but he managed to keep the tears mostly at bay, and nodded once. 

She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his. “It was never that I didn’t want to know. It was never that I didn’t trust you.” 

He nodded again.

“What’s your name, Chaton?” 

“Adrien Agreste.”

Her sobs were immediate. “This is not fair,” she cried. “I want to tell you my name.” 

He kissed her forehead, and then her hands that he was still holding. “Don’t tempt me,” he said lightly. 

Then he flicked his bracelet before she let anything slip.

He drank in the sight of her smiling face once again. The smile that reached her eyes, even as her hands writhed in front of her - the only evidence of her nerves. He knew now that she was willing to trust Chat Noir with everything, that she was almost willing to damn the whole world for him and he was almost willing to let her, and he also knew that Adrien was somehow incredibly special to her. Somehow, in the space of ten minutes he had fallen more in love with this woman.

“Okay kitty, what’s your name?” 

“You told me not to tell you,” he said, his voice barely louder than the breeze. 

She wilted on the spot. “I’m sorry.”

He swept her into a hug. “It’s not your fault, Buginette. You’re just trying to protect the world.” 

She tensed in his arms. “I told you about…”

“Chat Blanc?” he filled in. “Yeah, you did.” 

She started crying, and god damn it! He was hoping to make it through one loop without making her cry.  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. He rubbed soothing circles into her back. “I never wanted you to know. I want you to know who I am more than I want anything in this world.” 

“I know,” he breathed into her ear. “I understand now. I’m sorry for putting so much pressure on you. You have the weight of the whole world, and I regret that I ever added to it.” 

She shook her head rapidly. “No! You didn’t! You’ve always supported me!”

“And I hope I can bear more of that weight with you now?”

She grinned. “You say that like that wasn’t what you were already doing. You need to give yourself more credit.”

He smiled. “I will try.” 

“Sass, scales rest.” The snake kwami manifested in front of him. “What do you like to eat, Sass?” 

“I’m partial to eggs.”

Adrien groaned. “Why do I always get the difficult to feed kwamis?”

Ladybug laughed. “Hey, you only have to feed two of them. You should try dealing with seventeen of them all at the same time!”

Her phrasing struck him. “Do you… do you want me to keep the snake?”

She glanced away, a pink rising to her cheeks. “I was just thinking about what you said. That you wanted to reveal yourself to me. With the snake, you can do that whenever you want. I don’t know if it’s fair. I still think you should tell someone who will remember, but… I am okay with you using the snake so that I can be one of your confidants.”

He couldn’t breathe. He had already established this evening that she actually did trust him, but this… this was a whole new level. He felt dizzy. 

“Chaton? You okay?” 

“You… You’re not worried about me taking advantage?” 

“To do what?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. Kiss you or something?” 

Was he imagining the blush across her cheeks? 

“Would you do that?” she asked. 

“Not without your permission.” 

“So what’s the problem?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in complete confusion.

His tears crashed straight through the dam of his usually tightly maintained composure.

This time, she hugged him. And he let himself cling to her. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“What for?” she asked. 

He smiled into her shoulder. “For…” and he had no idea how to put what he was feeling into words. “For being you.” 

“You’re so important to me, kitty. You know that right?”

He did now. He pulled away and offered her his most charming smile, and kissed her hand one more time. She definitely blushed that time. “You mean the world to me, too.” 

They just stood there for a minute, smiling at one another. “I guess, I should get home,” she said. 

He nodded. “Yeah, me too.” 

He watched her go, but despite his words he wasn’t ready to go back to his gilded prison. 

Instead, he took off through the city, running. And he didn’t know if he was running from something or towards something.

…

Chapter Two: Best Friends

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 5/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Hange took one deep breath, then another. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Started counting to ten in her head, only to stumble at three.

Nothing worked. The anger, the frustration, the little voice at the back of her mind, the one that whispered it's all your fault, you should have acted sooner, you should have been better - none of it disappeared.

And the longer she stood there, in the room with a man, who had a hole in his head, who died because of her, the harder it became to ignore it all.

If only she was smarter, if only she was more dedicated, if only she worked harder and didn't run away on dates like a lovesick teenager, all of it could have been evaded. The man, young man with a loving family - a weeping wife and confused children - could have been saved.

If only.

Another deep breath, and Hange reached her tipping point.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed suddenly, kicking the wall next to her so fiercely, the impact of the kick reverberated through her leg.

A moment ago, everyone else in the room had only been sending her quick, nervous glances. Now all of them were staring right at her with unmasked panic and concern.

Great, just great. Seemed like she had once again proven why she was called Crazy Hange.

"Proceed with your work!" she barked at other policemen.

They swiftly turned around, returning to their tasks. Looking for clues, searching for the smallest piece of evidence.

They wouldn't find anything. Not if they were at work.

"Hange," a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Hange jerked, whirling around. Erwin was standing behind her, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a concerned expression.

How did he manage to sneak up on her like that? How long was he standing there and she did not notice, too occupied with her tantrum?

"I'm fine," she waved him off, before Erwin could say anything.

"Are you?" his blue eyes stared deeply into hers, making her almost uncomfortable. But if there was anything Hange learnt after ten years of working under Erwin, it was how to endure his captious gaze.

"Just a little frustrated," Hange admitted, knowing Erwin would see right through her anyway. "If I wasn't—"

"No." Erwin spoke resolutely. "None of it was your fault, Hange."

"But Ackermans—"

"We don't even know if it's them."

"Bullshit," Hange hissed, lowering her voice so the others wouldn't hear them. One tantrum was more than enough for today. "No fingerprints, no sign of forced entry, no broken locks on doors or the safe, if it wasn't for the unlucky witness," her eyes darted to the dead man again, her heart growing heavier. "We would never know someone was there."

"It's just a house," Erwin reminded. "A house of a wealthy politician, but still just a house. It's too small of a fish for the Ackermans."

"And yet it was them," Hange argued. "The footprints on the snow," she pointed to the window. "Forensics says they belong to two men - one short, one tall. It fits the description of Ackermans that we have."

"Still," Erwin set his jaw. "We don't know if it's them."

"You might not know. But I do."

Looking at the doubt and disappointed that were etched on Erwin's face made her anger grow. Hange turned away from him, before the volcano inside her erupted.

There was nothing else to do here, they wouldn't find any clues, she was sure of it. But maybe someone else knew something she didn't.

Hange left the master's study, heading to the living room downstairs. The hallways stood empty and, despite the bright lights that illuminated her path, Hange felt a sense of unease settle over her. The farther she moved from the study, the quieter the house became. And when she left behind the chatter of her colleagues, quiet, agonizing sobs filled the silence.

Hange shuddered, as she walked down the stairs. The house sustained a tragedy, it was filled with so much grief it was hard not to be affected by it.

Contrary to the hallways and rooms upstairs, the living room was dark, and the only source light was coming from a fireplace that stood by the northern wall.

Next to it was an armchair, and there sat a woman - still wearing a gorgeous light green gown, she was holding a small girl in her arms.

The woman was crying just moments before Hange had showed up, her cheeks were still wet with tears and her chest raised and fell in rapid succession. She pulled herself together swiftly and efficiently, though, all signs of mourning were gone from her gaze as soon as she locked eyes with Hange.

"Did you find something useful?" she strictly demanded.

The dominance and supremacy were oozing from that woman. The sharp contrast - the expensive dress and the glistening jewels, ruined make-up on a hard, scowling face, a child in her hands, who seemingly didn't realize what had happened, who couldn't yet comprehend that her father wasn't going back, and quiet, desperate wails coming from another room and belonging, Hange guessed, to another child of the family - all of it made her breath hitch.

She wondered if the mother of the family would mind it if she sits down to the armchair that stood next to her.

Of course, she'll mind. She is the wife of an influential politic.

She was a wife of an influential politic, Hange argued with an imaginary Erwin in her head.

She sighed and fell down in that armchair. She didn't care if the grieving widow next to her minded or not. She was so damn exhausted.

"We are working on it," Hange said, taking off her glasses and cleaning them with a sleeve.

"You should work harder," the widow seethed.

Yeah, Hange thought, tell me something I don't know.

"So you have no lead? No idea who could have killed my husband?"

Hange could have told her the truth. She even wanted to. But then she thought of all possible outcomes and... If press found out that she hanged another crime on Ackermans and if they found out that she had the plan to apprehend them and still let an innocent man die... They would have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Not something she was actively striving for.

"We're working on it," she repeated, and before the widow could snarl at her some more, Hange took the line of questioning into her own hands. She came here to interrogate, not the other way around. "Did your husband have enemies?"

The woman snorted. "He was a politician. Of course, he had enemies. But there was no one who hated him enough to kill."

Hange nodded. She expected as much.

"Although, there was this girl..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she came and went, visiting his office in all times of day. She even stopped by our house a few times. He had hired her to look for something, I guess. I don't know if she had ever found it."

"Hm".

If it was another case, the one where she didn't already know who the culprit was, Hange would have found that new bit of information intriguing. Promising, even. Alas…

"The last question, and I'll be on my way," Hange promised. "The only thing robbed is the safe. Do you know what was inside?"

The widow looked down, gently stroking the hair of her daughter. "He never told me."

Disappointing, but if Hange played her cards right, just in a few days, they would be able to find it out for themselves.

God, interrogating those Ackermans... That surely would be a blast. Hange was beyond excited at the prospect.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said, rising to her feet. She fixed her jacket and shirt and gave the woman a curt nod. "If you remember something else or need our help, I left my number at the table in the office. Don't hesitate to call at all times of day. And don't worry," Hange smiled, faintly, tiredly, but smiled. "Your husband will be avenged.”

***

It was his last day in the city. Levi thought he'd be feeling melancholic, nostalgic, plain sad. Instead he felt... nothing. The last night encounter, the glassy eyed, dead man... It had shaken him more than he could have expected.

Maybe, Kenny was right. He was too softhearted.

Maybe, that was the exact reason why he was holding a phone right now, contemplating if he should call her.

He wanted to. Perhaps, he also needed to.

It was his last day in the city, and Levi didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. He didn't want to leave without seeing Hange one last time.

Fuck it, he decided. He was a thief, right? Only natural for him to steal one last moment with Hange.

He opened their last chat.

hey, want to hang out this evening?

He pressed send before the doubt could resurface.

The reply didn't come immediately. He expected just as much. He wanted, hoped that Hange would answer immediately, but that was unrealistic desire. Hange was probably working, and, thanks to him and Kenny, she probably had to deal with even more work than usual.

He didn't expect an immediate answer, so Levi went to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea. He then went to his room and started packing his things.

One hour passed, two, three.

No reply.

There was nothing left for him to do - with his suitcase full and apartment clean, he didn't know how to occupy himself.

Sitting in his room and staring at his phone like a loser seemed too pathetic even for him.

He was beginning to contemplate if he should call Hange instead of texting, when his phone screen finally lighted up. He eagerly opened the message.

I'm busy.

He stared at the text for a few moments, not quite sure what to make out of it.

It seemed so cold, so detached. So unlike Hange.

He deserved it, though, he knew he did. Question was - did Hange know it too?

So that was it then. The end of... Whatever he and Hange had.

An almost all consuming sense of hollowness settled in his chest as he came to this realization.

It didn't go according to the scenario he had envisioned in his head. But that's how it went in the end. Hange was busy and he was leaving. There was nothing he could do about it.

Wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to make him feel any better, so Levi forced himself to move. He hid the phone into his pocket and rose to his feet.

He walked out of his room, searching for Kenny.

He wasn't in his own room, packing his things like Levi had told him to. He wasn't in the living room, lazing on a coach with a bottle of beer and cigarette, either.

Instead he was in a kitchen, sitting behind a dining table with legs propped up on chair. Kenny was talking with someone on a phone, a suspicious smile playing on his lips. That smile wasn't the usual malicious or greedy one, no, that one was uncharacteristically pleased. It seemed like whoever he was talking to, Kenny liked them.

That made Levi pause and narrow his eyes, staring intently at his uncle.

"Thanks for the offer, dear, I'll call you back as soon as me and my nephew polish your plan a bit.”

Levi was barely fast enough to catch his jaw. Dear? Plan? The hell Kenny was talking too?

"Levi!" putting the phone down, Kenny turned to him with that weird smile still plastered on his lips. "It's good you're already here. I have great news! I found another job for us!"

An- another job? Levi couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely Kenny couldn't be serious.

"We are leaving the city this night," Levi gritted, boring holes into his uncle. "Did you forget about that?"

"Ah, that," Kenny waved his hand and Levi had to stop himself from breaking that hand. "We have to postpone it a bit. Just one job, and we can leave."

Anger was starting to boil inside him. There was so much of it - remnants of last night's incident, frustration brought to him by Hange's text - that Levi had trouble breathing. He balled his hands into fists, resisting the growing urge to lash out at Kenny.

"You promised," he spoke in a voice so low, so tense it was barely audible. "You promised we would leave after the last job."

"And we fucked it up, didn't we?" Kenny retorted, the smile slipping from his lips. His expression darkened, as he met Levi's scowl squarely. "And if we're going to leave like you keep pushing me to, then we need money, Levi. And this job will provide us with enough to last for a few years."

"You said the same thing about last job," Levi reminded, refusing to back down.

"And I was wrong about that," Kenny rolled his eyes. "But this job isn't from Reiss. It's from someone I trust."

Levi arched an eyebrow doubtfully, and Kenny muttered a curse.

"As much as I can trust someone," he admitted with a sigh. "It's a legit job, and it's fairly easy."

"How easy?"

"We already have a plan of the building, a way to the vault and even a way out."

"And what's the catch?" Levi frowned. "If someone has that much info and opportunities, why ask for our help?"

"Ah," Kenny grinned. "Traute is very smart. Very talented too, but, unfortunately, she is not as good at dealing with safes and locked doors as you are."

"Traute? Who the fuck is that?"

"Oh right, you haven't met her. Traute used to be... a partner of mine," the not so subtle implication and the dreamy look in Kenny's eyes made Levi wince. There was nothing in the world he was less interested in than Kenny's partners. "We had so much fun in the past... During the heists and, you know..."

"I don't, and I don't want to," Levi grumbled. "Get to the point, Kenny. When are you planning to rob the place? We can't stay here for too long."

The weird thing was that, despite his insistency and constant urgency, Kenny didn't even ask why they had to leave, and so swiftly. It left Levi with two possible explanations - either, his uncle knew something too, or, he trusted him enough not to question his motives. Levi wasn't sure which one was more outlandish.

"In two days," Kenny answered. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to get on a plane that very same night. If we're extra lucky," he wiggled his eyebrows. "Traute will agree to go with us."

"In that case, I'd better run to another part of the world."

"It will go smoothly," Kenny rose up, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. "Don't you worry. No surprises this time."

Levi wished he could believe him.

***

"No!" Traute raised her hands as soon as the unhinged detective started approaching her. "No hidden cameras, wires or other stuff. It's too risky."

Kenny, that sly bastard would find them either way, no matter where detective Hange decided hide the devices. Setting a trap on him was already dangerous as it was, they did not need additional hazards.

"I can't just let you go there unsupervised," detective Hange glowered, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Traute almost felt bad for her, she could only imagine how much stress the detective was under. The operation and recent murder, all of it fell onto her and she was already on a verge of breakdown. Traute could see it in her red-rimmed eyes and sagged shoulders. "What guarantee do I have that you won't betray us?"

Traute huffed. The answer to that was laughably obvious. "Because I value my freedom much more than a man I used to rob banks with fifteen years ago. I know it's hard for you," it was hard for her too, trusting someone from police to keep their word. However, detective Hange seemed like a sort of person who wouldn't back out on a promise. That sort of people infatuated Traute, but Hange appeared as an honest, trustworthy person. Maybe, in another life, Traute would have respected that. Or, maybe, Hange Zoe would have irritated her even more. But as it was now, Traute had no choice but to rely on her. And she needed Hange to do the same. She laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly. "You have to trust me. It's the only guarantee I can give to you."

"If this fails—" Hange sighed, pushing the hair out of her face. For a second, Traute saw a look of uncertainty on her face, but Hange blinked and it was gone. "This operation can't fail," she declared passionately.

The newfound fire in her eyes was almost inspiring.

Traute found herself smiling at her. "It won't."

"Alright," Hange rubbed her hands together, turning to her desk. "Let's run through the plan one more time. You come to the Ackermans and..."

"I show them the blueprints you gave me."

"Right," Hange nodded, satisfied. "And then what do you say..."

"I say..."

***

"This entrance will be left unguarded," Traute tapped her finger against the small dot on a drawing. "You two can sneak in and then..."

"And how do you know that it will be unguarded?"

Traute huffed, rising her gaze from the blueprints. Although, considering the height of Kenny's nephew, she didn't need to raise it too high. He was as short as he was irritating. Traute now knew why Kenny never introduced them. Kenny was an asshole, who could backstab you seemingly at the smallest whim, but, at least, talking with him was pleasant. The same, unfortunately, couldn't be said for his nephew. It was the fifth time he had interrupted her in the last ten minutes. Calling him annoying was starting to become an understatement.

"Levi, give Traute a break," Kenny cut in. "She knows what she's doing, believe me."

This didn't seem to placate Levi. "I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

Jesus. And she thought Kenny was too suspicious.

"Go on, dear," Kenny urged. "Don't mind my nephew, he still hasn't learnt his manners."

"Then you move to this hallway," Traute continued, ignoring Levi's glare she felt at the back of her head. She couldn't wait until this goddamned mission would be over. She'd be ecstatic to see him behind bars. "It leads right to the vault..."

"And what can we steal from museum's vault? Don't they put everything valuable on display?"

God, another interruption and Traute would throttle the annoying midget.

"They don't always put originals in there," she gritted through her teeth, showing him the glare of her own. "And if you take a painting or two from that vault, it'll be enough to last you for a lifetime."

"That is," Levi didn't back down. "We find a buyer."

"Oi!" Kenny clasped his back. "Don't embarrass me, Levi! Of course, Traute already found a buyer, that's how these things are always done," he turned to Traute then, looking her up and down. "You found someone already, right?"

"Of course," Traute nodded, hiding a smile that threatened to break her face at just the thought of their so called buyer. Would serve the two assholes well, for all the frustration they were causing her right now. "All you need to do is steal the paintings."

"And you? What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"I'm taking care of security cameras and alarms."

"Hm," was all Levi had uttered, and Traute had never thought that just a short sound could make her go nearly insane with anger.

He surely had a talent.

Kenny looked over the blueprints, scratching his beard. "So those paintings..."

***

"So those paintings would actually be there? The vault won't be empty?" Traute asked, staring at Hange in surprise. That seemed like an unnecessary risk. Should anything go awry...

"We have to catch them red-handed, remember? But we won't put originals in here. Just something that could be mistaken for them in the dark."

That part could easily backfire too. Of course, detective Hange had already mentioned the dark room, and that would undoubtedly make identifying the paintings a lot harder, but still... Kenny was insanely good at that kind of stuff. It was natural, of course, considering how many years he had spent in this line of job.

"They could realize it's a forgery," Trautedecided to voice her doubts.

"They could," Hange agreed. "But if something goes wrong and they manage to escape with original paintings..." she dropped her head into her hands, letting out a quiet whine. "Dawk will have my head. All brass would have my head, press would have my head, even Erwin..." she shuddered. "Even he would have my head."

"Alright," Traute nodded, more than a little disturbed by detective's shaking shoulders. "Should we move on?"

"Yes!" Hange exclaimed, way too loudly. She raised her head and the almost manic look in her eyes made Traute even more alarmed. She wanted to ask if maybe they should take a break, detective Hange looked like she really needed it, but she started talking before Trautecould even open her mouth.

"You have the most important job, Caven," Hange said, putting hands on her shoulders and staring straight into her eyes. "We can’t put a police officer in the security control room, that could raise Ackermans’ suspicion, so you’ll be the one monitoring their movement. You need to watch Ackermans closely, and you have to make sure they use the exit we'll be patrolling."

"We? How many 'we' are you talking about?"

"Not much. We can't risk attracting attention, so we can't use a lot of people. The team will consist of me and a couple of other officers."

That was a smart choice. A choice that maybe would lead to success of the whole operation.

Once Kenny told her that cops smelled so bad he could actually feel their stench from miles away. Traute wasn't very keen on finding out if it was a particularly bad attempt at humor or another talent of his.

"Once we catch them and apprehend them, your sentence will be cut in half. And that's it."

***

"That's it?" Levi scrunched his nose. "Sounds—"

"Amazing!" Kenny guffawed, shooting Traute a brilliant smile. "Thank you for this offer, dear. You won't regret it."

Oh. Traute was most certain she would not.

"If you want to know more, you can ask—"

"No need," Kenny assured her. "We've heard everything we needed to."

Good. Because Traute told them everything she knew. Should they ask for more details, she'd have to resort to lying and improvising. And that could not only damage their operation, it could also raise Kenny's suspicion. Traute was good at lying, and Kenny... Kenny was good at seeing through everyone's lies.

She grabbed her purse, eager to get out of here as quickly as possible. "I'll see you..."

"In two days," Kenny promised. "We'll be there, don't worry. We're not stupid enough to let this opportunity slide. Well," he grinned. "Levi here might be a little stupid—"

"Oi!" Levi hissed, looking just like an angry cat.

Traute rolled her eyes, watching the two men bicker. She was more than done with them.

"In two days," she reminded them.

She wasn't sure if they heard her, and, frankly, she didn't care. She knew they would show up. Kenny wasn't a man to pass a good job.

She walked out of the hotel room Kenny had rented, because of course the distrustful jerk couldn't let her see their apartment, and exhaled in relief.

The first part was done.

She took out her phone, typing a short message for detective Hange.

The trap is set ***

His eyes were already hurting, watering because of his intense stare, but Levi persevered, looking over the blueprints once again. There got to be something he missed. Some minor detail, a small, miniscule catch.

There got to be. This theft couldn't possibly be so easy.

Several extremely expensive paintings just lying around in some vault? Without any guards to protect them?

Either the museum stuff was incredible careless and unprofessional, or... Traute was lying to them.

It was the most plausible explanation, and yet... Kenny seemed to believe her. He trusted her, as much, of course, as Kenny could trust someone who wasn't himself.

And if Kenny, the most distrustful bastard in the world, trusted someone, it meant that the person had already proved themselves to him ten times over.

However... However Levi still felt uneasy.

And so he continued staring at the blueprints, searching for something that most probably wasn't even there.

He studied the image so intently, he missed the moment when the screen of his phone that lied next to him lightened up. It lightened up a second time, two minutes later, but Levi paid no attention to it either. It was only when it started ringing, startling him, that he finally looked down at it.

He blinked a few times, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Hange was calling him.

He rushed to take the device in his hands, his finger trembling as he accepted the call.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice shaking so slightly.

"Hi!" Hange replied, sounding a little out of breath. Levi wondered what was she doing and where was she. He heard some noises, cars honking and wind blowing. Was she outside? "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Levi glanced at the clock hanging on a wall beside him. It was almost two in the morning. He didn't even notice.

"No. I haven't gone to bed yet."

"You should," Hange said, and Levi closed his eyes, picturing her slightly frowning face. She probably narrowed her eyes and pushed her glasses up in attempt to look more serious. "It's late. Don't you have work in a morning? Where is it that you're working, by the way? I don't quite remember..."

Because Levi had never told her.

He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm working in accounting."

"Oh right! Is it exciting?"

Levi's lips twitched, as he fought back a smile. "It has its moments."

"Good! It's important to love your work!"

Levi snorted. "You have way too much energy for two am, you know that?"

"Sorry," Hange laughed. "It's been a long day, or a week..." she trailed off. "Perhaps even a month... Sorry for calling so spontaneously, I just... wanted to hear your voice, I guess."

God, what a nuisance. Making his heart skip a beat just with a couple of words. Either Hange possessed some kind of super power or... he was just that pathetic.

He didn't realize it, but he missed the sound of her voice too. And her face, her lively expressions, radiant smiles. Maybe, they could...

"Hey, Levi," Hange brought him back to present. "Can we facetime?"

So now she was a mind reader as well?

“Alright," he said, trying not to sound too eager. Hange didn't need to know just how much he enjoyed her company.

"Great! I'll call you a back in a moment!"

Levi used that moment to check himself in the mirror behind him. His blue hoodie seemed good enough, not too wrinkled and without any stains. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it, and forced himself to relax. It was just a simple phone call, nothing to lose his mind over.

In the next second, his phone started ringing again, and he almost smiled.

Nothing to lose his mind over, he reminded himself as he accepted the call. He raised the phone to his face and went to sit on the bed.

Hange waved at him, grinning goofily. Her face was barely illuminated by a phone screen, but even in the darkness Levi saw purple circles under her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted, and yet... inexplicably relaxed.

"It's good to see your face," Hange said, forcing his heart to skip yet another beat. "Wanna see something cool?" without waiting for reply, she turned the phone around, showing Levi a view of a street below from her balcony window. Hange lived in the middle of a city, a few blocks away from him. The night city was splendid - bright, vibrant, alive. The lights poured from every side and even now, in the middle of the night, the streets down below were full of life.

He was going to miss this.

Although, as much as he appreciated the view of the city he grew in, Hange's face was far more interesting for him right now.

Not knowing how to ask her to turn the camera back without sounding utterly moronic, Levi let out a tch sound, and grunted, "get inside. You're going to catch a cold in weather like this."

"Nah," Hange's face was finally staring back at him. "I've got this to keep me warm," she pointed to a blanket that was sliding down her shoulder, showing her sharp clavicle. "And this!" she lifted a bottle of beer, drinking from it.

Levi rolled his eyes. "It's not very professional to get drunk in the middle of a week, you know."

"I won't get drunk on one beer," Hange argued, wiping her mouth. "Besides... It helps to calm my nerves. I have a big day tomorrow..."

He was going to have a big day, or, rather night tomorrow too.

Fuck it, Levi decided, getting to his feet.

"I'll be back," he told Hange and hurriedly left the room, confused 'heys' following after him.

He returned a moment later, holding a bottle of beer of his own.

"Cheers," he grunted, opening it and taking a swing.

"It's not very professional to get drunk in the middle of a week, you know," Hange mimicked his voice, accompanying it by a horrible parody of his face expression.

"It's your damn influence," he shot back.

As he took another swing, all tension that was building inside his shoulders ever since their last theft disappeared. Perhaps, Hange was right and beer did help. Or, perhaps, it was Hange's bright smile that relaxed him so.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Hange asked.

Hopefully, leaving this city behind, Levi thought, but decided not to voice his thoughts. Instead, he shrugged, mumbling, "dunno yet."

"There is a skating rink, it's right outside the precinct," Hange smiled dreamily, playing with her hair. "I have been staring at it for days now, people are having so much fun! Do you want to go?"

"I—"

"It's okay if you don't!" Hange quickly assured. "We could go to some other place or maybe not go anywhere at all..."

"I don't know how to skate," Levi mumbled, embarrassed all of a sudden. "Never learnt."

"I can teach you!" Hange offered, the sparkle in her eyes burning so brightly, Levi could see it through a phone screen. "We would probably end up with dozens of bruises, but it'll be fun, I swear! And then we could order hot cocoa, warm up at a cozy cafe..."

None of it was going to happen, but it was two in the morning and the beer left a bitter taste in his mouth, making him feel snug and comfortable, so he let himself indulge in that little fantasy Hange had created. He imagined a skating rink, illuminated by soft, pretty colors. He tried to imagine how skates would feel on his legs, how they would make him slightly taller. And he imagined Hange's hand in his, her deep melodic voice explaining him how to move his legs and keep his balance. He could almost hear her laughter and feel the cold sipping through the back of his pants as both of them came tumbling down in a heap of limbs.

"I see you like the idea," Hange gently teased, taking note of the content expression on his face. "Then it's settled!"

"Alright..." Levi murmured, washing the feeling of regret with another gulp of beer.

Maybe, he shouldn't have been so adamant about leaving.

No. Levi instantly stopped himself. They had to leave. Because if they wouldn't, Hange would find out who he really was.

Hange liked him, but not the real him. She liked Levi the accountant. If she knew Levi Ackerman, the famous thief, she'd hate him.

And he didn't wish for that to happen.

"It's getting late," he noted, the clock on his phone showing almost three in the morning. "We should go to bed."

"Yeah," Hange mumbled, yawning. She finished her beer and gave Levi a soft, sleepy smile. "Thanks for talking with me, Levi. I appreciate it. And..." she paused, picking at the wrapping on the bottle. "I just wanna say... I'm glad life threw us together."

"It wasn't life," Levi scoffed. "You fell down on me."

Hange chuckled, scratching her neck in embarrassment. "Maybe, it was fate... Maybe, some deity wanted me to fall for you..."

"That was terrible," Levi grunted, making Hange giggle. "Go to sleep already."

"I'll call you soon, alright?"

"I'll be waiting," Levi promised.

Hange smiled one last time and disconnected.

Levi stared at the now black screen for another moment.

He broke out of his trance with a low curse. He was getting too pathetic for his own good.

He finished the beer and took off his hoodie, heading to the bathroom.

Hange was right. A big day was ahead of him.

***

“Traute is already in the control room,” Kenny informed. “If anything goes wrong, she’ll tell us.”

Levi nodded, hoping than nothing would go wrong this time. For now, it seemed like it truly wouldn’t.

Just as Traute had promised, getting inside was almost laughably easy. No guards, no alarm, the backdoor wasn't even locked.

"Stealing is becoming too easy, eh, Levi?"

He leveled Kenny with a long, hard look.

It was a good thing Levi made them wear a mask. There didn't seem to be any security cameras - at least, he couldn't see any that were still functional, it seemed like Traute had held her end of the bargain. But Levi didn't allow himself to relax.

Relax, and they could fuck up again.

However, masks gave him at least some semblance of comfort. They were cheap, ridiculous things bought by Kenny at a carnival during one of his drunken adventures. They did their job, though. If there was a hidden camera somewhere or they happen upon a lonely guard or late working employee, no one would see their faces.

Perhaps, they would be able to avoid another senseless murder then.

They quietly moved through the hallway, and as they did so, it was hard for Levi not to gawk at his surroundings. A painting here, an antique tapestry and extravagant vase there. He was honestly surprised Kenny hadn't started grabbing everything he could. If so much stuff was located there, in a dark-lit hallway, Levi could only imagine what was waiting for them in the vault.

He turned around the corner, coming to a stop in front of the stairway. Everything was just as Caven had planned it. And yet... the worry lingered.

"We don't have all night, brat," Kenny gave him a rough push.

Levi sent him another dark glare, but complied, starting his descent. The vault was there, at the end of the stairway.

Grab the paintings, and he was free. They could leave the city, save themselves.

Leave everything behind.

Levi gulped, swallowing a lump that appeared out of nowhere. Get yourself together, he scolded himself, taking another step down.

Soon the door to the vault was right in front of them. Not wasting another second on doubts and worries, Levi dropped to his knees, taking out his instruments and starting to work on a lock.

"There," just after a few seconds, the lock was dealt with. Levi stood up, pushing the door open. "Let's get this over with."

***

The street seemed so empty. No car passing by, no peculiar pedestrian or even a stray cat, only a bright red light of some bar's signboard that kept flicking on and off. Just like the street they parked at, the bar appeared to be devoid of any life.

Hange scoffed, jerkily moving a lock of hair from her face. She never thought she would say it about one of the most important missions in her life, but she felt bored.

She wanted the action to start already. Wanted to rush in there, catch the damned Ackermans in the act and then revel in the shock and fear in their eyes.

The satisfaction Hange would get out of this surely would be more than enough to overshadow all frustration the thieves had caused her.

"Hange," Mike shook her shoulder. "Caven had just given a signal. The Ackermans are inside the vault."

Finally!

Without wasting any second, Hange opened the door of the police van and jumped out on a street. She heard Erwin's exasperated curse but didn't stop to listen to him, rushing to the entrance of the museum.

Finally, finally, finally.

A whole year of hard work, of everyone doubting her and telling her to just quit, and now she was there, had Ackermans trapped just like she had planned to.

Hange smiled as she felt other footsteps joining hers, the rest of the team already on the move.

No one had believed in her, not even Erwin, but Hange had proved them all wrong. She had done the impossible, caught thieves who were considered untraceable and invisible.

All Hange had to do now was claim her reward.

***

The vault was very different from what Levi had envisioned for himself. He imagined something big, grand, something appropriate for the spectacular art the room was holding.

But in reality, he and Kenny entered a dark, narrow and dusty room. It looked more like a closet than an actual vault.

Kenny didn't waste time surveying his surroundings. He dived in, taking the first thing he happened upon. He unfolded the parch of paper, tilting his head to study it more closely.

"Flashlight, Levi," he demanded, outstretching his hand.

Levi handed it to him, getting to work himself. He wasn't nearly as skilled in art as Kenny was, but seven times out of ten he could distinguish original from forgery just as easily.

"Seems legit," Kenny muttered. "Looks like Traute didn't lie."

Levi paused for a second, turning to stare at his uncle. Here he was, tormenting himself with doubts, and Kenny wasn't so sure about their alliance either?

"You didn't trust her?"

Kenny barked a short laugh. "I wouldn't still be alive, kid, if I trusted people left and right."

"Then why have you agreed to the job?"

"Because," he shrugged. "I wouldn't still be doing it if it wasn't for greed."

Levi scoffed. Of course. What other answer could he expect from Kenny.

"We'll use other exit, by the way," Kenny remarked, shooting a quick glance at Levi. "You studied the blueprints well, right?"

"As best as I could."

He could close his eyes and see it clearly, all entrances and exits, all dead ends and turns. Seemed like feeding Levi's suspicion was a part of Kenny's plan as well. Scheming bastard.

"Then come up with a different route. And quickly," Kenny shoved another folded painting into his backpack. "We're almost done here."

Levi started thinking, turning the imaginary blueprint in his head this and that way. There was only one way to exit the vault. The stairway was inevitable too. But once they reached the hallway, they could take another turn and head to the front entrance. It was a bold move, too bold, perhaps, they didn't know if guards were stationed in other parts of museum or not, but it was the only way.

"Alright," Kenny seized his shoulder. "We're done here. Are you ready?"

Levi nodded and immediately started moving, leading Kenny out.

They left the vault and the stairway was empty. Still, Levi stopped for a second, listening closely. The museum above them seemed silent. Feeling a little more confident, he quickened his pace, taking two steps at a time.

As he reached the top of the stairway, he drew a deep breath, walked into the hallway—

And came face to face with Hange.

*** Hange doubled down, taking one shallow breath after another. Perhaps, Erwin was right in scolding her. She was a little too excited to get there. And now she was completely out of breath.

That won't do, she thought. She didn't want to face Ackermans panting and sweaty.

Hange straightened out, pushed her glasses up and fixed her shirt and coat.

She glanced over her back, giving Mike and Erwin a slight node. They nodded back and Hange took out her gun. The recent murder had proved that Ackermans were always armed and they didn't hesitate to kill. She hoped she wouldn’t need the gun, but just in case…

Hange took another deep breath and prepared to rush in.

However, before she could take a single step forward, two figures appeared right in front of her.

She grinned triumphantly.

Seemed like luck was on her side tonight. Ackermans came straight into her arms.

***

Levi didn't know how long he would have stayed there, staring into Hange's eyes, if it weren't for Kenny's hand that grasped his sleeve and pulled him forward.

"Shit!" Kenny shouted, as they started running.

The rest of Hange's team - Levi didn't know how many there were, there was no time to stop and glance back - followed after them.

Hange was on the front, hot on their heels.

Damn her long legs, Levi cursed.

So Traute had betrayed them, sold them out to police. She was going to pay for that, Levi could clearly see it in the way Kenny gritted his teeth.

"Stop!" Hange shouted. "You're surrounded, there's no point in running!"

"We'll see about that," Kenny muttered and pushed Levi sideways, forcing him to take a sharp turn.

They could have split up, perhaps, it would slow down their pursuers, but Levi knew it was pointless. There were too many of them to create an efficient diversion.

"Do you remember the blueprint?" Kenny breathlessly asked.

Levi nodded, catching his gaze behind the ridiculous mask.

"Good. Then I have an idea. We need to lose at least some of our tail first. Make them stumble."

Levi nodded again, and suddenly took a turn, running to the door. It was another risky move, the door could have been closed, but, thankfully, their luck haven't died out yet. Levi tumbled inside the dark room. If he remembered correctly, there had to be another door at the other side. He located it fairly quickly and headed there. He opened the door, waited for Kenny to get through and pushed it closed, careful not to look behind his back. If he met Hange's eyes again, he wasn't sure he would be able to look away.

He ran into the hallway and took the first door to his left. He kept pushing forward, leaving one room and going into another. Soon the sound of footsteps that followed after them had decreased. However, someone was still pursuing them. Levi prayed it wasn't Hange.

"That will do nicely," Kenny grinned as they appeared in the middle of another long hallway. "Good job, Levi," he threw, coming to a sudden stop.

Levi's heart stopped as he saw Kenny take out his gun. His knees nearly gave out beneath him as he saw Hange appear at the end of the same hallway.

Kenny's hand shot up, aiming the gun right at her head.

Kenny never missed, Levi knew that. He was a witness to his uncle's incredible skills just days ago. The light fading from that man's eyes, his face forever etched in the expression of fear, Levi could never forget that.

He couldn't let Hange suffer the same fate.

He couldn't and— he wouldn't.

It all happened in a span of a heartbeat.

Levi looked up, saw Kenny's finger at the trigger, saw it move and curl and—

And just before he could pull it, just before the shot rang, Levi launched himself at Kenny, pushing the arm with a gun down.

The shot still rang, Hange still screamed. She swayed, falling against the wall—

Kenny never missed, and this time wasn't an exception. But it was as close to exception, as one could get. He hadn't shot her head or her heart. Hange was clutching her shoulder, her already bloodied shoulder, the sight of which made Levi almost ran to her, made his hands tremble with desire to help.

It took all of his willpower to stay put.

Hange was alive, wounded, but still alive. Levi could breathe again.

As Levi was watching Hange, Kenny was watching him. Levi could feel the weight of his gaze, burning into the side of his head. He tore his eyes away from Hange, staring back at his uncle. Kenny's eyes were full of anger and incomprehension. Before he could reach any conclusion, though, they heard approaching footsteps.

"Hurry up," Kenny curled his hand around Levi's forearm, roughly yanking him forward.

Levi stole another glance at Hange, his heart breaking as he saw her slowly pushing herself up, determination pushing her forward despite the injury.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed and left her behind.

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Brought Back to Me (FULL)

(I meant to release it yesterday, but with burnout coming at me from all angles, I needed to take an extra day to breathe)

Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Childhood Friend Reader

(Warm Bodies AU where they're less like zombies, but they're more mindless breeding machines and the only way to bring them back is by giving them intensely positive emotions.)

It's been months since the outbreak started.

One little quirk is all it took for all of Japan to fall into shambles. Curiously enough, only the men were affected by it, turning into insatiable beasts, searching endlessly for someone to breed mindlessly. Not really the undead, but not entirely human either.

Somehow, those who were able to escape from the clutches of such a dangerous quirk were only the men who already had partners, lovers. In some cases, those who were not sexually attracted to anyone-- and/or those who had impossibly strong bonds to their friends-- could also scrape by unaffected.

Unfortunately, the Safe Zone only allowed people in if they contributed to the saving of another.

—————————

He wanders about aimlessly, not remembering a single thing. Where he came from, who he was. His head felt like it was in a cloud, body heavy.

Though he doesn’t think much of it. This is all he’s known, after all. ‘Breed, breed, breed.’ echoes inside his head, eyes scanning the baren wasteland. The sound of quick shambling and panicked breaths hit his ears; ‘a chase’, he thinks, ‘follow.’

He finds his way towards the sound of aggravated groaning and hissing, careless fists slamming against doors. Locked in, it seems. Something tells him to put his hand on it, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know why he expected anything to happen.

The door flexes when a loud thud rams against it, and a tiny yelp behind the flipped dumpsters. The groans grow more aggressive, more hungry. ‘Breed breed breed breed breed breed breed—‘ bounces around more fiercely in his skull; he shuffles quietly over to the dumpster.

He can feel himself starting to salivate, the idea of finally being able to achieve his purpose growing more and more prominent. Peeking over the bags of trash, everything in him halts; big doe eyes stare up at him, afraid. Trembling, eyes leaking... water? ‘Tears,’ his brain supplies. Tears.

He doesn’t like them.

He watches for a moment; eyes scanning her trembling form. Another loud bang and the shriek of metal starting to give snaps him out of it. He takes her arm and yanks, dragging her out of the alley, sprinting passed the door just as the hinges burst.

He doesn’t need to breathe, heart doesn’t pump, yet his chest grows tight from the sound of her struggling to keep up. ‘Go slow. Slower.’ he complies, falling into stride. He feels something starting at him, so he turns back to look at her, grumbling, glaring.

Suddenly, he’s running into a building. She titters excitedly, too frantic to understand before she’s pulling away. Slamming the door shut and locking it. He’s a little confused; surely, she hasn’t forgotten what he is.

For a moment, she does. Her chest heaves with relief, sliding down before plopping in front of the door. He carries himself into the corner of the room, gurgling to himself.

She tenses, eyes darting to him; he squints back. ‘Now she remembers.’ he grunts.

He doesn’t know why the echo in his head went silent. The usual monotony of ‘breed’ long gone, ever since he laid eyes on her; replaced by ‘protect’ and it baffles him. Though, at the same time, it feels right.

She snivels, and his eyes latch back onto her. Still sitting by the cold door, staying away from him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, stuffing himself into the corner.

Some time goes by, how long he doesn’t know. Though he doesn’t need to know such irrelevant things. He gurgles in surprise when he feels something warm fall over him. He turns slowly, eyes meeting her curious ones.

“You’re strange, you know that?” She whispers; her eyes more curious than afraid. He only gurgles, letting the warmth of the blanket encompass him.

‘Warm is nice,’ he decides.

--

She rambles on about ‘no circulation’, or something like that. He doesn’t quite get it, but he doesn’t fight her when she insists he stand out in the sun, absorbing more of this ‘warmth’ thing he’s gotten addicted to.

He follows her around as she needs supplies, gurgling along quietly to her aimless conversations. He knows she’s only talking to fill the silence void (‘maybe she’s gone crazy,’ he thinks, ‘talking to someone who might not even understand.’) but somehow he appreciates it. Gives him something to think about.

Overtime, he finds himself enjoying her company. Mindless babble filling the everyday droning of grumbling footsteps passing by.

One day, she yelps in excitement over a can, startling him and every other mindless dolt in the area. He hisses in irritation, dragging her back to the safe house as quickly as he can. Despite the harrowing situation, she smiles, giggling with childlike glee.

He glares at her once they make it to safety, yet she hardly notices when she’s shoving the can into his face.

“Peaches! It’s canned peaches!” she cheers, prying the lid off with a can opener. The smell is sweet, unlike the usual foods she would find. He’s surprised when he feels his stomach growl instead of twist.

“Did.... did your stomach just growl?” she whispers, baffled. He shrugs, opting to pretend it never happened when it growls again. Her eyes light up.

“It did! It growled!” she laughs, then hands him a peach. He twists his face up, remembering the first time she had him try food. “C’mon, try! Maybe it’ll be different.”

He takes the peach from her hand, eyeing it distastefully before licking it. To his surprise, he didn’t feel sick. He stares at it for a moment before dropping it in his mouth. He feels satisfied rather than sick when he swallows.

“Fascinating...” she whispers, slowly approaching when he doesn’t immediately retch it back up. He eyes the can without realizing it, pouting when she offers him another peach with a coy smile. “See? Good thing I had you try.”

He takes it with a huff, grinning wryly.

--

That night, he dreams for the first time.

“Tenko...!” Echoes inside his ears. He feels his heart beat, and it nearly sends him stumbling from the shock.

“Tenko..!” Closer this time, but even as he spins endlessly to look, he doesn’t see anything.

“Tenko! Wake up, Tenko!” Its right next to him now, and it has him jolting awake

He sits up, but it’s still dark when he opens his eyes. He looks around frantically for her, finally calming when he sees her curled up on the sleeping mat. He scoots closer, putting a hand on her back, just enough to feel it rise and fall with each breath.

He settles.

--

He starts to realize he’s capable of doing more with each new event, and with each new event, he dreams.

The worst nights are when he can hear the voice screaming in agony:

“Tenko!! No!! TENKO!! STOP IT!” “GET AWAY! TENKO!”

The eventual sobbing that grows quieter and quieter, leaving him feeling colder and colder. He hates those nights.

Even when his heart isn’t beating, it still feels painful. His mind races with questions and anxiety (a feeling he wish he didn’t know).

He wonders if his name is— was— Tenko, or maybe someone he used to know? He’s not sure, but he’s afraid to find out.

Afraid.

Another emotion he was starting to know well. He finds himself afraid a lot more often too.

He’s afraid of waking up one night to find her gone. He’s afraid of losing her to some other mindless victim (if he could call them that. Men fallen to the quirk; victims). He’s afraid of watching her find companionship with another human.

He knows it’s selfish, but a part of him wants to stay just like this, with her.

Without knowing who he is.

--

Life is the sweetest when she’s sharing her canned peaches (the only thing his body cares to let him eat). Two unlikely friends, making the best of what they got, but then she starts telling him about her past.

“There used to be someone very important to me.” She said one restless night,

“He and I only ever had each other. Two peas in our own little pod.”

“We didn’t get along at first, but only because we were scared. Just the two of us, living on the street. He had the strangest way of holding things too, but I guess that was just because of his quirk.” Her eyes seemed so glassy, yet so clear. So far away, yet here all the same.

“We uh... used to huddle under the same blankets, just like this.” she slides next to him; she’s warm, yet somehow still so cold, “we even shared peaches too. He never admitted it, but they were his favorite. It’s a shame we couldn’t get them often.”

“Just us against the world...” he doesn’t like the sound her voice makes when it cracks, words turning into a strained whimper. He nudges himself closer to her hoping it’s of some comfort.

“Then some weird man came and took him away, and I never saw him since.” she sniffles and rubs at her eyes, “My Tenko.”

He goes completely stiff. He can tell she’s talking to him, but it’s drowned out by the sound of something rushing through his ears.

‘Tenko! Over here! Hurry!’ his body is so much smaller than he’s used to. He feels the pounding of his heart. It hurts. It hurts.

‘Tenko! No!! TENKO!!’ the agonized screams, and a little girl who looks a lot like her is reaching out through the fog towards him, eyes shining with desperate tears.

There’s the feeling of something grabbing him by the shirt, dragging him away. He knows he’s screaming, his throat burns with the force of his cry, but he can’t hear.

As quickly as it begins, it ends.

“Hey, are you ok?” She’s peering into his face, concern written all over hers. He gurgles, fighting with his own vocal chords.

“I-I-I’mmmm ssso-o-orrrry...” it’s gravelly and slurred, almost incomprehensible, yet she seems to know what he’d been trying to say, seeing as her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You... you talked. You actually talked!” She seems so excited for him, but then she frowns, worried.

“‘Sorry’? What for?? There’s no need to be sorry!” she rubs his back. Warm. He feels his chest squeeze.

He wants to try to talk again, even if to just make her smile, but his throat aches far too much, so he just gurgles softly, nudging his head onto her shoulder.

He practices his speech at night when she’s asleep. Quietly, of course, as to not disturb her, but it’s frustrating. Trying to sound out words messily.

“Mmmm-my nnnnnname....” his voice gives away to a wet growl, and he wheezes out a cough, “my nnname issss... Tennnko. Ten...ko. Tenko.”

--

He’s remembered a lot more after the first memory.

Rainy nights under the bridge, hushed giggles over a can of peaches.

Hard winters when all they had were a pile of blankets and each other.

The... THING that stole him away, abandoning her.

Quiet fury burns in him, but it fizzles out soon after when he hears her mumble in her sleep. It’s inaudible, and probably complete nonsense, but he likes to think that maybe she was dreaming of the good ol’ days too.

But only the good days, he hopes. Before ‘THAT’ day.

He whispers her name, stroking her back gently when she starts to fuss. ‘A nightmare,’ he muses, watching as she quickly settles back into a peaceful dream. She has them a lot, but he likes to think that they end as soon as he soothes her.

‘You’ve suffered enough.’

Thoughts come easier now as his memories come. Things that he isn’t proud of, things that makes him wonder if she’d hate him.

He remembers becoming ‘Shigaraki Tomura’, a name he thinks of in disdain.

He much prefers Tenko now.

--

“You know, you’ve been pretty warm lately. I guess sunning yourself every day does help.” She muses out loud, and he grumbles, pleased.

“Mmmaybe.”

“Hey! No stuttering this time! You’re getting better!” She smiles at him. He grunts, leaning against her.

“Oof— hey, easy there champ. You may not eat much, but you’re still heavy compared to me.” He hears her, smirking, but opts to lay more of his weight onto her.

“Hey! Come on!” She laughs, his gurgled wheeze of a laugh only making her laugh that much harder,

He thinks he feels his chest growing lighter in moments like these, wishing desperately that he could have been left unaffected.

He knows there’s no reason to worry about the past in his current state, but he still finds himself wishing.

--

“Hey, that’s weird,” She says to him one morning, ruffling his hair, “your hair is getting darker somehow.”

She shows him in the mirror what she’s talking about, and sure enough, there it is.

A tuft of black hair poking through the sea of pastel blue.

“How funny is that.” she grins. It’s lopsided and curious, but she just muses his hair one more time before going back to her morning routine.

Overtime, he notices more and more sprout in, and she always laughs at the bewildered look he always seems to have.

--

The first time he felt his heart beat was during one of those nights when you couldn’t sleep, so you would tell him about Tenko.

“I thought it could just be the two of us forever... In the same way kids feel when they ask each other to get married when they’re older.” Her words are melancholy, but her smile is peaceful, happy.

“I wanted it to just be the two of us against the world. All we needed was each other, maybe we could have been adopted by a nice couple or something, but still inseparable.”

He doesn’t say anything or make any sounds, so she continues.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe we could have fallen in love.” He sputters then, heart thudding once, twice, then falling still. His hand smacks over his chest in shock, and for a moment, he wondered if that’s what it felt like to be alive.

“Is that really so ridiculous??” she snorts, not really offended, but not really as happy as he would like.

He shakes his head aggressively, and she laughs. Her smile is so genuine he almost misses out on the sweet kiss on the cheek she gives him.

“Thanks for always listening to me ramble. Actually—“ she sits up, and he watches her from his spot on the floor, “thanks for staying, even though you didn’t have to.”

He puts his hand over hers wordlessly, patting it gently.

“Always.”

--

He wonders if it’s possible to die without being alive.

He hopes it is.

When he wakes up, she’s gone. Nothing more than a note left behind.

‘Need food. Be back soon.’

A simple food run shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it’s climbed to be the most dangerous thing to do over the last 10 months (Has it really been that long?) and losing her so soon after getting her back is the last thing he wants.

He goes barreling out the door just in time to hear her scream.

His heart leaps into his throat. He feels sick, but the adrenaline pumps into his veins, and suddenly he’s running.

Heart racing, sweat dripping, lungs aching. His ears ring with the sound of her scream.

He stops, stomach acid rising into his throat. He feels far too sick. He runs his hands through his hair, he doesn’t even notice the light blue strands that fall away.

He hears her scream again, closer this time. He starts running again despite his shaking legs.

He barely makes it in time to see her get surrounded. The roar he lets out is nothing less than ground shaking, and it’s certainly enough to catch the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

He doesn’t remember what happened next. Colors and sound blend together to make a symphony of tragedy.

Memories and reality all blend until they start and end with her. Her.

“Tenko, my Tenko... you’re okay.” Sound re-emerges from the depths.

Warm. Warm. Warm.

She’s in his arms; so small in comparison to him. He remembers when she was the same size as him.

And, god, she’s so warm.

“Tenko.” His eyes open to meet hers. They’re glassy, but relieved. He whispers her name like it’s a prayer.

“Who would have thought this is how we meet after all these years, huh?” Her voice is soft. He finally realizes her hair is covered in dust. Dust. His dust.

He jumps back in a panic, afraid. He hadn’t been careful with his hands, hands.

“Tenko. It’s okay! It’s okay!” she soothes and grabs his hands freely, pressing his palms to her face.

She doesn’t decay like she should.

“Remember, Tenko? We practiced.”

Yes. Practiced. You helped stabilize his quirk long before he came. Promised to keep it between the two of them.

“Yes... yes... I remember...” he mumbles, and she places her hand over his chest.

“Your heart!” He nods,

“Yeah...”

“Does that mean—“

“Yeah...” he nuzzles his face against her shoulder.

“Warm...” she laughs gently,

“Yeah... you’ve always liked warm things.”

“Mm...” he stands, picking her up in the process, walking back in the direction of the safe house.

“We’ll head to the city zone tomorrow.”

“Okay... Tenko?”

“Mmh?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

He smiles; he’s glad he’s back too.

[terrifictomholland]

victory lap - Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: Charles wins his first ever World Championship for F1, obviously that needs celebrating.

word count: 2.3K (almost, 4 words shy from)

warnings: smut! oral sex, hand jobs, light bondage, dirty talk - it’s a delicious little bag! lmao

A/N - so this one goes out to @stuckonspidey​ for introducing me to Charles Leclerc and F1 really! This one is for her so I hope you enjoy!

Also, this contains adult themes so please, don’t read this if you are under 18!

                                                         ✰✰✰

“Did you see that?!” The exuberance in Charles' voice was unmistakable as he entered the hotel room, eyes shining with happiness and joy at winning his very first F1 world championship. The rush of adrenaline pouring out of him, making him impossible to reign in, not that you wanted too. You’d never seen him so elated in your entire life.

 All of his hard work, blood, sweat and tears and dedication to his sport that had brought him so much joy but also so much pain and heartache. 

You knew that when he crossed that finishing line and cruised into the pit-stop, he had a moment where he sent a prayer up to all the ones he’d lost and paved the way for him to shine. Seeing the shot of him with his head bent down and the way his shoulders shook in his car made you cry, knowing how much he had wanted for all of them to be there and see his success and share it with them. But you knew that they were all there, looking down on him with pride. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” You squealed, leaping into his awaiting arms, feeling his hold on you tighten when you locked your legs around his waist.  You pulled back ever so slightly seeing how deep his dimples went from the massive smile that was on his face. 

“That was the sexiest piece of driving you’ve ever done! Driving like such a beast,” You gushed seeing him taking your praise so well, his chest puffing out and he stood taller. 

His clear green eyes twinkled with happiness and joy, “Merci, I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“I’m so glad to have you here celebrating with me,” a smirk formed on your face thinking of the celebration you had in store for him.

A mischievous glint in your eyes appeared. “We’re not done celebrating quite yet,” an excited smile took over his face and his full brows quirked.

“Tell me,” his lips brushed your neck finding the sweet spot behind your ear sucking lightly. You threaded your fingers in his dark hair closing your eyes as the sensation of his lips ghosting across the skin of your neck felt heavenly. 

“Why don’t I show you instead?” with a shove he fell down on the edge of the bed. In an instant you had all of his attention, his eyes following your every move. 

“Mmh you gonna give me a punishment?” The cocky smirk on his face was one you would wipe off sooner rather than later. Without answering him you got on his lap so you could straddle him. His hands going to your arse right away making you smirk. 

“Well I was going to give  you a nice little prize for your win today, but if you’re gonna give me lip I might just give you a punishment instead. I was going to be very generous and let you cum tonight… but I could easily just not let you do that instead,” he gulped audibly shaking his head profusely.

“No, no, no I promise I won’t do that!” He begged immediately retracting what he’d said. 

“That’s what I thought, I don’t have any problems giving you a nice spanking,” his eyes turned glossy at your words.

“Yes,” he breathed in short ragged breaths. With quick hands you removed his shirt. His chest was as if someone had cut him from marble, so sculpted and defined. You couldn’t help but admire his beauty, he looked like Adonis with his green eyes, dark hair and sharp jaw. 

You dragged your lips across his chest hearing his breath hitch. You saw his wide eyes and parted lips when you watched him through your lashes, flicking his nipple with your tongue hearing Charles gasp. 

The noise intensified when you rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging further into your ass. 

“Tease,” 

That spurred you on with a smirk. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” 

His eyes darkened, biting the corner of his lip when you got rid of your shirt exposing your black lacy bra. It was your favourite one that really lifted your tits up - safe to say, Charles was obsessed. His mouth was all over them, pressing kisses wherever he could reach and you let your head fall back and a few soft moans fell out whilst your hips still rolled against his and you smirked to yourself when you felt him harden. 

It didn’t take long for things to progress once you felt how hard he was. You were just as needy for him as he was for you, but you wanted to have some fun with Charles first. He was completely at your mercy as you had a hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him off hearing his curses and moans that went directly to your cunt.

“Baby,” the pleading tone in his voice fueled you to tease him even more. Running your nails over his abs, letting them dance along his lower abdomen. You alternated between your nipples and gentle fingers teased the head, feeling him shiver beneath you and he was gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. He tried to buck his hips up for more but you held him in place.

“Do you not want your prize?” Your lips attacking his neck hearing his whimper when you sucked on his spot, the point where his neck and shoulder met up. 

“Yes, yes I do, I want my prize, I promise to be so good,” his voice was laced with lust and his accent becoming more prominent than before 

“Hands behind your back,” you tutted seeing him reach out for you. With a seductive move you got on the bed beside him, giggling softly when he stared at you awestruck, following your every move. You got pieces of silk that you quickly tied around his hands. 

“Mon ange,” the sheer desperation in his voice gave you infinite power. It was the way his chest dusted pink trying so valiantly to be a good boy for you. His chest was your favourite place to mark him up, using him like a canvas for you to mark up. Hearing his mewls and groans when you sucked a bruise particularly rough into his skin only to soothe it moments later with your tongue. 

“You’re mine,” it was punctuated with a mark above where his heart was and you heard his whimper, weak and pathetic. It was a noise you wanted to hear for all of eternity - it made you drunk with power. 

Charles' breath hitched when you sucked a bruise into the skin of his inner thigh, your breath ghosting over his strained and leaking cock but never actually touching it. He was squirming and twitching which made you slap his inner thigh to bring him out of it. Interestingly his cock leaked more when you did that.

You pulled away watching him for a moment. His chest heaved and strewn with marks all over him, red-bitten lips and his usually green eyes were blown wide with lust. He looked wrecked already and you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you. 

“Is cumming not something you want tonight?” His glassy eyes widened and immediately shook his head quickly.

“Please, please I want to cum,” there was a slight slur to his words as he began to succumb to the pleasure. 

While you teased Charles you praised him for his win and how hot he looked driving the car, the way he handled and maneuvered a vehicle. It was so sexy to you, all confidence and determination. He was a beast behind the wheel and he knew it.

“Give me something, anything,” his voice was wrecked, his accent thickening the more turned on he got. A smile graced your lips and you kissed him hotly as you let your hand slide up to his neck to choke him. A strangled moan spilled past his lips and he rutted against your dripping folds. 

 Your cunt was throbbing when you asked, “You want something?” 

A few moments later you pulled away from him, pushing him down on the bed and he stared up at you, chest rising up and down rapidly. He nodded eagerly, his eyes showing all the things he couldn’t say in that moment. 

His hands were all over you - from your hips to your tits, your sides. He was everywhere and so intoxicating. 

“Oui,” you let out a soft whimper whenever he changed into French when he was really turned on. You had him right where you wanted.

“Prove it, work for what you want, champion,” those words ignited the fire you so often saw in him when he was in his car. Jaw clenched as the competitiveness shone in his eyes. A smirk pulled on your lips seeing the raw hunger in his eyes. He loved it when you challenged him like this. 

He let out a growl that had you instantly soaked. “Get on here, I want your pussy” He laid down and motioned for you to get on his face. A moan slipped hearing him say the word ‘pussy’ in his accent, it was sublime to hear. 

Oh. 

You felt the arousal seep down your thighs when you realised what he wanted. You straddled his face and everything just short-circuited when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it. The moan you let out was pornographic whilst he started eating you out as if you were his last meal. 

“Oh fuck,” head thrown back and body lurched forward feeling him eat you out for all he was worth. He was moaning around you, flicking his tongue over your clit making tiny bursts of pleasure shoot down your spine. 

 You gripped the headboard for leverage as you started riding his face, feeling the burn of his stubble along your sensitive inner thighs which added so much to your own pleasure.

His moans and whimpers against your cunt had you glancing back seeing him rut up into the air, his cock red and angry, leaking pre-cum. It was a sight that left your mouth watering

“Fucking hell,” the pressure in your stomach built and built from the way he was licking you. He knew your body like the back of his hand and he was using it to his advantage, he could make you cum in a matter of seconds if he wanted too. 

Your squeezed your thighs around his head when the pressure was almost too intense and you knew you were moments away, your orgasm building to a crescendo.

Tiny gasps spilled over and your cunt clenched as you reached your high, crying out his name. Thighs trembling and toes curling while he kept going, prolonging your high for you. 

You climbed off of his face seeing his mouth and chin glistening with your juices. It was a sight that left you speechless. “Fuck me,” 

That’s all he needed to quickly scramble off the bed in search of a condom and get himself lined up with you. He ran his fingers over your body - caressing you in such a way it brought tears to your eyes before you felt the delicious stretch when he slowly sunk inside of you.

“Mon ange,” he cursed letting his head fall forward letting you see the pleasure wash over his face. His brows pinched together in pleasure as he let you adjust, you squeezed around him with a smirk seeing him lose his composure. Loud moans falling from his lips.

“Fuck me like you drive your car, champion,” you goaded hearing his growl and the fierce determination flash in his green orbs. You smirked when he set his mind to it finding his confidence and his rhythm. The bed repeatedly slammed into the wall with his thrusts causing you to arch your body, blindly reaching for something to hold onto. 

“Fuck!” You gasped over and over, chanting his name as he brought you closer and closer to heaven with each skilled stroke of his hips. That in combination with his fingers that found your clit like an ignition switch. 

“O-oh I’m close,” your eyes rolled back as he shifted positions, angling his hips so that he nudged your sweet spot. It was too much for you with the drag of his cock against your velvety walls clenching around him. 

It was all it took for you to topple over the edge, a warmth that spread through your body, starting at the centre and fading out to your toes and fingertips. 

“Please, please please, mon ange - I want to cum, please,” he begged, his words slurring together, watching as you came. Nothing was more beautiful to him than you cumming. It was the way your head tilted back, jaw dropped open in pleasure as your eyes shut. Your chest heaving and the vice squeeze on his cock. 

“Cum for me, you’ve been such a good boy,” you purred doing your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts. It was erratic and jerky, a signal as to how close he was. 

“Come on my love, finish the race,” his grip on your hips tightened and you knew there’d be bruises come tomorrow morning. His voice strained as he muttered curses in French chasing his release.

“You made fast lap there champion,” you giggled, stroking his back as he relaxed against you seeking warmth and comfort from you. He was such a snuggle bug after sex and you loved it. Charles gave you a slow kiss that made butterflies erupt in your tummy.

“Je t'aime,” he whispered 

“Je t'aime,” you mumbled against his lips feeling how your heart grew with love for this boy.

[thetravelerwrites]

Rupert and Sanoh (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Kobold/Male Human, Female Half-Elf/Male Tielfling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Kobold, Half-Elf Content Warning: Sex, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Group Sex, Dom/Sub, Breath Play Words: 3349

A story with DuMont’s friends, Rupert and Sanoh! Rupert and Sanoh are having sexy fun in a bath when Kharis and DuMont enter the room. Not willing to stop, they try to be stealthy. It doesn't work. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

“Why do wererats always have to live in sewers?” Kharis grumped. “Every time we get contracted to kill rodents of any kind, I just know we’re going to have to go somewhere gross.”

Kharis, DuMont, Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman all pulled themselves out of the sewers of one of the larger towns west of the capitol. People had been going missing, and the mayor of the town realized that the rats in town were multiplying at an incredible rate, even with preventative measures. It was a clear indication that wererats were responsible.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Sanoh said. “The humidity down there was good for my scales. They’re so itchy.”

“It may have been good for your scales, but it definitely wasn’t good for your clothes,” Kharis remarked. “That stink isn’t coming out. You might as well burn that shit.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sanoh said with a sigh. Her dancer’s outfit, which she always wore regardless of the situation, was torn and it’s bright red hue was now dark brown. “I really liked this one, too.”

Rupert seemed even more miserable that Kharis. “Can we please find a bathhouse? I haven’t been this filthy in years.”

“You’re one to talk, look at poor DuMont!” Kharis said, pointing at her giant lover. DuMont, the mountain of a tiefling that he was, was splattered head to toe in muck and grime and rat guts. His large church-bell bludgeon that he had slung over his shoulder was absolutely caked in blood and gore. “He’s not even complaining!”

“That’s because he doesn’t know how to complain,” Sanoh said. “He takes the phrase ‘roll with the punches’ far too literally.”

“Is that wrong?” DuMont asked, his cavernously deep voice echoing through the city streets, causing many who weren’t already staring at the group to spin in surprise.

“Of course not, love,” Kharis said, patting his arm as he walked on all fours. “I much prefer silent temperance to someone who does nothing but complain.” She looked pointedly at Rupert.

“Norman complains more than I do!” Rupert retorted.

“I haven’t said a word!” Norman protested. “Don’t pick on me because you’re a whiner.”

“Oh, my god, everyone shut up!” Sanoh said, rubbing her forehead. “There’s a bathhouse one block over, so will you all just please stop bitching.”

“I’m not bitching,” DuMont said in an undertone. “But I am hungry.”

“I’ll order you a rack of lamb and a sack of potatoes when we get to the inn, hon,” Kharis said. “Get cleaned up first. You don’t want to eat when you’re that dirty or you’ll get sick.”

“I’ve never been sick.” DuMont countered.

“Even still, you should be clean…er. And I don’t want you to drop pieces of food in the bath, either. It’ll feel like we’re all sitting in a stew.”

“You weirdos can sit in the stew, I’m getting a private bath,” Norman said.

“Why do you do that?” Rupert asked. “You always get your own instead of bathing with us, even though private baths are so much more expensive. It’s no wonder why you never have any money.”

“I’m not trying to get head by a paid companion in front of you lot,” He said sniffily.

“Suit yourself, but I bet that’d be fun to watch,” Kharis said playfully.

Norman snorted. “You would think that, you pervert.”

“You’ve become so shy since we started traveling, Norman,” Kharis said. “You used to be a nice, relatable pervert, just like the rest of us.”

“Maybe being with you people has made me see the error in my ways,” Norman remarked.

“Pssh, there isn’t anything wrong with being a pervert. Besides, I think DuMont balances me out. He can be such a prude sometimes.”

“I imagine being raised by a priest in a church will have that effect on a person,” Sanoh said.

“You are a pervert, Kharis,” DuMont said, as if in agreement with Norman.

“Does me being a pervert bother you?” Kharis asked him, grinning.

He looked at her and cocked his head as he walked, considering her, looking like a massively oversized dog, as he always did when thinking.

“No,” He said eventually.

“See? He likes it.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” He said. His face wasn’t built to smile, but Rupert thought he could hear laughter in his voice, and Rupert grinned.

“We would be the ones to pick brazen, sex-crazed women, wouldn’t be, big guy?” Rupert said, smacking DuMont’s broad shoulder in solidarity.

DuMont grunted in a way that could have been mistaken for a chuckle.

DuMont had been very taciturn since they had met him nearly a year ago, but his personality was slowly beginning to emerge as the five of them spent more time together on the road, doing jobs. Rupert was glad he finally felt comfortable enough with the group to try joking with them.

The bathhouse came into view shortly afterward. It catered to adventuring sorts, so it wasn’t necessarily a high-end place, and the five of them tended to frequent it often. The staff there barely batted an eye at DuMont anymore. The laundresses despised the sight of them, however, since they always arrived splattered with all manner of filth, much of which was hard to wash out.

“Hey, can we get the big tub, please?” Sanoh called out as soon as they entered the place. “We’ll pay extra to reserve the whole thing, though I doubt many people will want to come in after us.”

The woman at the front desk curled up her lip at them as they entered, but said, “Yes, of course. You’re usual packages?”

“Yes,” Norman said. “Private room for me, please. Do you have any companions available?”

“Derek is available.”

“Ugh, no, not him. What about Vincent?”

“Vincent is away visiting family. Connor?”

Norman nodded. “Connor will do. Just make sure he brings the right massage oils this time.”

“That costs extra,” The woman reminded him.

“I’m aware,” Normal said, starting toward the private baths.

“I’m beginning to think Norman is too fancy for us,” Sanoh said. “We can’t afford him.” She walked up to the counter. “Do you have any scale oil?”

“We don’t have any specifically for scales, but there are plenty for skin and hair.”

“Hmm…” Sanoh said. “Give me the hair oil, then. It tends to be thicker. What scents have you got?”

Kharis snorted. “Come on, let’s get these clothes off before they stick to us. She may be at this for a while.”

Dumont and Rupert followed her to one of the larger public baths, one with a door, and closed it behind them. Now that they had been together for a long time, they were less shy about bathing together as they had been. Even DuMont had stopped blushing when he saw them all nude in the same bath.

“Kharis, I’m hungry,” DuMont said insistently. The only time DuMont ever seemed to get grumpy was when he needed a meal.

“Let me at least scrub you down once and we’ll go get some food,” She told him, pushing him into the bath still wearing his loincloth. The robes and towels weren’t nearly large enough to cover him, so they just had taken to washing him in the bath, clothes and all. They usually did him first, drained the bath, and refilled it for the rest of them.

Once Rupert helped Kharis give DuMont a once over, getting him clean enough to go into the tavern, they left to get something to eat and Rupert and Sanoh waited for the tub to be refilled. When that was done, the fresh water was nice and hot, and Sanoh arrived with her purchased oils. They both stripped down and got in with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh, gods, this is nice,” Sanoh said.

“Mmm,” Rupert agreed. “I think this is the first time in a month that my shoulders have relaxed.”

“My scales were starting to get so brittle. Will you get my scale brush and scrub the oils into my back? I can feel them flaking.”

“Sure, just a second,” He said, getting out with a splash and grabbing her back. She had a special boars-hair brush she used to clean and sharpen her scales and horns. Her favorite thing in the world was laying out and letting him groom her tiny body all over. It often got her in a frisky mood.

Sure enough, after only scrubbing her back for fifteen minutes, she started to wiggle in his lap, rutting her hips backward into him. He began to harden immediately. Sanoh seemed to revel in getting him aroused in dangerously public places, but it always caused Rupert anxiety.

“What are you doing?” Rupert said. “Kharis and DuMont will be back any minute.”

“Then let’s be quick,” She said, looking back at him over her shoulder.

She lifted up in the water and slowly sank her swollen lips down onto him. He gripped her hips and groaned, his head falling back, trying to keep his voice down. There really was no arguing when she was in a mood like this. He began to thrust up into her, sloshing the water around them.

She laughed breathlessly. “Good boy.” She thrust back into him as he moved inside her. Before long, he picked her up and lay her over the side of the bath, slamming himself into her hard enough to make her thighs ripple. She began to moan loudly.

“Shh!” He hissed. “You’re going to get us thrown out.”

“But it feels so good,” She whimpered. “Norman has sex in the baths all the time, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t make me gag you,” He said, panting.

“You can try,” She said, laughing, before crying out against the tile. He put his hand over her mouth, but she bit him. He let go, inspecting his hand, and when he found she hadn’t broken the skin, he instead grabbed her throat, squeezing.

“Oh, fuck,” She wheezed, her eyes going glassy. As bossy as she was, she loved it when he was rough and took charge.

“Shut up!” He snarled in her ear. “You started it. Be quiet and take it.”

“I will,” She simpered, and he squeezed harder.

“I said, shut up!” He slammed hard into her, and she squeaked against his grip on her neck, her body trembling in excitement. She came suddenly, gushing down her legs, but he didn’t relent, crushing his body against hers, breathing down her neck and spine, moving at a frenzied pace.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” He said through his gritted teeth. “Stand still, don’t fucking move.”

Before he got the chance, however, he heard the far door open and Kharis’s voice drift through.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, pulling out suddenly and ducking under the water to hide himself. His cock was throbbing with the unfulfilled promise of climax, but there was little he could do about it now. He was just going to have to sit there and suffer in silence.

Until Sanoh sat back down onto him, spearing him inside her, her inner walls still quivering from the orgasm.

“Now what are you doing?!” He asked frantically.

“Just act natural,” She replied in an undertone.

“They’re going to know!”

“Not if you don’t make a big deal about it! Lay your head back and pretend you’re sleeping!

“Sanoh!”

“Just do it!”

Rupert lay his head back against the tile on the edge of the bath with Sanoh in his lap just as Kharis and DuMont re-entered the bathing area, stripping down to join them.

“Well, DuMont cleaned out the tavern, so if you want food, you’re going to have to find a vendor somewhere,” Kharis said.

“Not surprising,” Sanoh said, stealthily riding Rupert’s cock under the water, pretending to be washing her arms to cover the movement.

“What’s with him?” Kharis asked, nodding at Rupert.

“He conked out almost immediately after you left. I’m just keeping his lap warm,” She said smoothly.

Kharis snorted and said, “I wish I could fall asleep as easily as he can. DuMont’s like that too,” She reclined on the large red tiefling. “He can fall asleep mid-sentence.”

“A gift and a curse,” Sanoh said in agreement. She squeezed Rupert’s length with her inner muscles, and it took all his effort not to grunt or move. He dug his fingers into the skin of her hips as a warning. Sanoh snorted. She moved under the pretense of adjusting herself and nearly made Rupert jump out of his skin with how deep she’d push him into her. He couldn’t help but make a small sound.

Kharis noticed. “What are you doing?” She asked Sanoh, her eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?” Sanoh asked innocently.

Kharis gave Sanoh a sardonic look. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep anymore, Rupert, I know what’s going on. I’m a pervert, after all.”

Rupert sighed and lifted his head. “The jig is up, I guess. Sanoh, hop off.”

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” Kharis said. “Far be it from me to interrupt your fun.”

“What about DuMont?” Rupert asked skeptically.

“What about him?” Kharis replied, reaching over in the water and placing her hand in DuMont’s lap.

“Wha…” DuMont said, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun,” Kharis said. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“But…” He looked at Sanoh and Rupert.

“They’re already having fun,” Kharis said. “They started before us.”

“They are?” DuMont asked in surprise, squinting at the pair.

As if to answer, Sanoh let Rupert’s organ fall out of her and spun in Rupert’s lap. Now that she didn’t have to worry about stealthing, she rocked on him and moaned.

“Oh,” DuMont replied, and then sucked in his breath when Kharis squeezed him.

“Are you okay with this, buddy?” Rupert asked over Sanoh’s shoulder, though he was beginning to lose speech. “We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sanoh said with a snort.

“We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable, DuMont,” Rupert repeated, giving Sanoh a warning look. Sanoh rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” DuMont replied, playing with Kharis’s hair and she fondled him under the water.

“See? He’s fine, don’t be such a baby,” Sanoh said, pushing him into her deeper. He grunted and stopped speaking.

Kharis held her breath and ducked her head under water, and DuMont tensed and groaned, his hands balling into fists on the side of the tub. From then on, there was little talk, just moans, grunts, groans, and breathy whimpering.

Kharis came up and went to the edge of the bath, bending over and presenting her rear. DuMont followed her and knelt down, pressing his cock into her and thrusting in hard, pushing her forward and down onto the tile. She laughed breathlessly.

“That looks like fun,” Sanoh said, going over to bend over next to Kharis, wiggling her butt at Rupert and moving her tail out of the way, so he could see her dripping between her legs. Rupert followed DuMont and rammed back into her, thrusting fast and hard.

“Wanna see something really fun?” Sanoh said to Kharis. Kharis nodded, and Sanoh leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

The reaction was instantaneous. Rupert grabbed Sanoh by the throat again and pulled her up against his body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice hard and angry. He sped up, fucking her roughly as he held her in place. “You belong to me. Don’t you dare do that again without my permission.”

Sanoh’s face went slack and she nodded, whimpering, completely at his mercy.

DuMont’s reaction was also immediate. He grabbed Kharis up and vaulted out of the bath, throwing her to the floor. He pinned down her arms and legs and put his face inches from hers. He didn’t say anything, but a low, guttural snarl issued from his throat, his brows furrowed as he stared at her with the intensity of a predator looking at prey.

“What’s the matter, big guy?” She said with a grin. “Are you jealous?”

“Mine,” He growled lowly, almost indistinguishable from the threatening, thunderous rumble of his voice.

“Prove it,” She challenged.

He opened his mouth and sank his front canine teeth into her shoulder, drawing blood. He thrust himself back into her without letting go, his jaws locked, and he lifted her off the ground and just railed her.

There was no hope of keeping their voices down now. If they got kicked out, they got kicked out. Sanoh and Kharis screamed, shouted, howled, and swore in pleasure as their lovers used their bodies to climax.

At some point, there was a knock on the door.

“Is everything okay?”

“Go away!” Sanoh and Kharis shouted in unison.

Kharis and Sanoh came several times before the boys were done with them. While Kharis had as much stamina as DuMont did and was just as active, at some point Sanoh’s legs gave out and she simply lay there on the floor in a perpetual orgasm trance as Rupert pumped her full of his warmth and kept going like a machine, finally collapsing on top of her, breathing as if he’d run five miles in a minute.

DuMont was the last to reach his peak, gushing into Kharis, his seed pooching her stomach and dripping out of her, down his legs, and splattering onto the floor. For a solid minute, the room was quiet, safe for a lot of heavy breathing.

Finally, as they all caught their breath, the re-entered the bath to wash each other.

“Kharis, you’re bleeding,” Sanoh said, pointing. There was a very large bite in her shoulder, and it was rather deep.

“Oh,” DuMont said, flustered by worry. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, big guy,” She reassured him. “I wanted you to do it. It’s proof.”

“Proof?” He echoed, his brow furrowed.

“That I belong to you,” She said simply. “Help me wash it.”

As rough as DuMont had been, his gentleness in tending the wound was a mirror opposite. Rupert and Sanoh sat cuddled together and watched fondly as DuMont lovingly treated and bandaged Kharis’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, DuMont,” Rupert said. “Sanoh marked me, too.” He turned and showed DuMont a bite on his left shoulder blade. “And Sanoh’s bites can be venomous. I was sick for a week.”

“I said I was sorry,” She said reproachfully. “It was the heat of the moment, I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, hugging her in close and kissing her forehead.

“Does it hurt?” DuMont asked Kharis.

“Not really,” She said. “I’m sure it will tomorrow when the sex high has worn off, but I feel great right now. And it’ll scar up nicely, I think.”

“I’m sorry!” DuMont said, hiding his face.

“Honey, it’s okay!” She said, pulling his hands down. “I like it! It lets everyone who sees it know that I’m yours. Don’t you want people to know that you and I are in love?”

“Well… yes…” He said, frowning.

“There, see? It’s all fine.” She went up and hugged his neck. “Don’t fuss so much. I’m fine.”

He pulled her back and fixed her with a glare. “No kissing other people.”

She grinned at him. “I won’t, I promise. It was just an experiment.” She winked at Sanoh, who stuck her tongue between her teeth as she smirked. “And I’d say it was successful.”

DuMont grumbled. “I didn’t like it.”

She patted his face and kissed his exposed jaw. “I won’t do it again.”

“Okay,” He said, seemingly satisfied, and he pulled her into an embrace, careful of her shoulder.

The wound healed up really quickly, and Kharis took to wearing asymmetrical shirts, so that she could show it off. Most assumed that it was a grievous injury from a wild beast, and Kharis would laugh and say that was partly right.

Sanoh and Rupert didn’t engage in sex around the two of them again, but it was definitely something they kept in the back of their mind. For a rainy day, maybe.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[dere-boys]

Minho Dere-Types Headcanons

With our powers combined, we have finally managed to get the Minho headcanons done! Sorry it took longer than anticipated. We hope you enjoy these and look forward to seeing more content from us!

**Content Warning: These will also include NSFW headcanons as well. Ff you don’t want to read them, when they start they’ll be marked NSFW and then end when the next dere-type begins. Also please remember that Yandere, Oujidere, and Kamidere tend to deal with toxic/unhealthy/violent themes so reader beware.

Tsundere:

Do not ask this man for anything. He will deny you on principle alone.

He will do what you ask behind your back though when you can’t see him do it and say someone else did it instead of him.

Minho cooks for you but only because you almost set the kitchen on fire once. Please expect him to bring it up every single time you go into the kitchen. Even if you’re only getting water.

Is always secretly happy when you eat everything he makes you though.

Minho will never actually ask you out. At some point you’re just dating. You don’t make the rules.

Jealousy is his middle name.*

He’s very much a human embodiment of “no one is allowed to insult you except me.”

NSFW

“Forces” you to keep eye contact with him while he fucks you.

He wants to see how he’s making you fall apart on his cock so he can hold it over your head later.

*A jealous tsundere Minho is a Minho that will drag you off and fuck you against any surface he can get you to.

Secretly though it’s because he’s insecure and needs to know he’s doing a good job.

Wants you to beg for his cock so he denies you sex because he’s “busy” or just “doesn’t feel like it.”

Will mock you for wanting him so bad.

Literally, the only times that Minho is “soft” with you is immediately after orgasm, or first thing in the morning after a good night together.

Yandere:

Knives.

Yandere Minho can and will cut you up if he even gets an inkling that you might try and run off.

Carved his initials into you at some point.

He did it lightly so that he’d have to go over the scars and cuts again and again.

Hell, sometimes he’ll do it just because he wants to see you squirm and make you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

Evil laugh. Will do it when you say something “stupid.”

Out of all the yandere boys, be scared of Minho the most. You literally can never tell what he’ll do next.

Loves commanding you around because when you follow through he thinks you’re doing it out of fear that will become love.

NSFW

Did I mention knives?

He won’t hold the knife to your throat while he fucks you but he will press the tip to your clavicle to make sure you know who’s in charge.

Bloodplay. If he does feel like cutting you he likes to collect you blood on his fingers. “This belongs to me too, every part of you does.”

Likes to gag you.

Will pull your hair (if you have it) until you’re crying.

Even if you don’t cry completely he likes it when you get glassy eyes and blotchy-faced.

Yandere Minho wants to break you in all ways he can because then you’ll love him right?

If you have piercings he likes to bite and pull at them too hard.

Kuudere:

He’s not cold really, he’s just mostly impassive.

Getting Minho to react is an adventure. Good luck with it, because it won’t happen.

Unless you do something dumb, then he might show the tiniest bit of emotion to it, but very small.

He’s very transparent with you. Blunt is an understatement.

This can be good or bad depending on what you want or what you’re expecting.

Minho has made you cry before. It was… not pretty.

He didn’t mean to but he also had no idea how to stop it and passed you off to Chan to make you feel better.

Still, he hopes you appreciate his honesty and lack of ability to hold back.

The good news about this is that if someone is bothering you? Nope, now they sure aren’t if Minho is there next to you to unnerve them into leaving you alone.

NSFW

Doesn’t like wasting time so he will ask you for what you want before even starting anything.

Not much of a talker/moaner but when he feels good he’ll dig his fingers into your ass/hips.

Loves having you ride him but likes to guide you on his cock not just lay there.

Also, would never tell you, but he thinks the way you look when you’re on him like that is breathtaking.

Minho’s indifferent, but he’s not an asshole so he’ll make sure he’s not hurting you in any way.

That means he watches you very intently to check if you’re uncomfortable but won’t necessarily ask you outright.

Because of this, he knows exactly what you want and how you like it.

Aftercare includes making food which he passes off as “I was hungry and thought of you after, so you should eat.”

Still, you never quite believe him when it’s your favorite food. Not that he’d admit it.

Oujidere:

Makes you wear a collar. He wants everyone to know who you belong to.*

Keeps you on his lap but pretends you’re not there.

Spoiled. He wants you to do everything for him and will “command” you to get him things often.

This also includes picking his clothing for him and please be correct with your choices, if you aren’t he’ll scold you for your taste and shame you publicly.

The only times he turns into an “Angry King” are when he thinks you’re paying attention to others more than him or when you mess up something “simple.”

Punishments with him for disobeying or acting out of turn include kneeling at his side for hours and waiting on him, hand and foot even more than usual.

His cats are also royalty. Treat them as such.

NSFW

*That collar comes in handy when he wants to play.

Daytime Oujidere Minho is more of a spoiled prince but nighttime Oujidere Minho is… well this is where he reminds you physically what your place is.

Now, gentle is not the word to be used with him exactly, but he’s not as rough as you had first expected.

Probably because Minho kind of likes keeping you around and if he breaks you, that won’t be possible.

Not an outright exhibitionist but he certainly won’t stop if someone sees.

In fact, the more people that know who owns you the better.

If someone walks into his room or his studio and he’s fucking you? Literally won’t stop.

Kamidere:

Forces you to meet his eyes by grabbing your chin with his hand. It’s his favorite move.

Minho doesn’t like getting his hands dirty because he’s beneath that. If you mess up expect someone else to dole out punishment.

He just wants to see the aftereffects and belittle you for them.

Public shaming will include literally making you get under his boots and apologize for hours.

If he gives you anything it’s because it directly benefits him but he expects you to be thankful for it.

Requires you to shower him in praise but will never act like he wants it from you.

NSFW

He likes seeing you do all the work, and you better not complain ever because you’re lucky to be where you are.

And just because you’re on top does not mean you’re in charge, he’s still calling all the shots and he will make sure you don’t forget it.

He likes it when you scream and doesn’t care who hears.

If Oujidere Minho marks you with a collar, Kamidere Minho marks you with his teeth. Everywhere.

He will bite hard enough for you to bleed mostly because he can and mostly because he wants the marks to last.

Will bring in other people to fuck you so he can watch and make you say how they’re nowhere near as good as him and that you want his cock only.

Shundere:

He’ll get very snappy with you and feel bad immediately after.

Sad Minho wants you to see him strong so he’ll never cry in front of you. You still hear him though, when he thinks you don’t.

A way to make him feel better is to bring him food when he’s not expecting it.

He loves cooking for you so you cooking for him is a way of showing without outright saying that you’re there for him and you care.

He’ll spend hours in the dance studio trying to work the sadness out of himself but it doesn’t help much.

Has trouble falling asleep so you often stay up with him and watch videos to try and cheer him up.

You will call in Jisung to double team the sadness away if possible.

NSFW

Probably the few times he’s most vulnerable is when he’s physically intimate with you.

Shundere Minho is bad with words just like the others, but he’ll certainly try and show you just how much you mean to him.

We’re not saying that he’s cried in bed before but...

Also, just never knows how to apologize right, but he’s very good at showing it with actions in bed.

Hard and slow is the way he does it. He doesn’t want to rush things, he wants to feel everything and make sure you feel it too.

This can lead to very very long sessions that leave you exhausted and blurry around the edges.

Aftercare is very soft and very warm, and when Minho thinks you’ve fallen asleep he’ll tell you how much he loves you.

Don’t ever tell him you heard him though, he won’t react well.

Nyandere:

Breed: Mainecoon

You need to treat him like royalty. He sharpens his claws.

No but seriously, Minho is a very sassy cat hybrid.

He’s also a little weird when you get to know him more but he’ll never admit that out loud so you shouldn’t either. He needs to keep his air of ‘fancy’.

He will complain if you don’t provide him his favorite food.

Also will complain if you stay out for too long, he needs attention from you.

Mostly Minho just likes to complain...

Refuses to go to bed with you, but you always find him next to you when you wake up in the middle of the night. By morning he’s gone again.

NSFW

Brat. Brat. Brat.

Insatiable. Always wants to do things at the worst times.

This includes before a concert, immediately after a concert, when you’re on the phone with your friends/family, right before you need to go to work, you get the picture…

Also he doesn’t care who knows he’s horny and wants you. Cat-boy Minho knows no shame.

Be sure to take off his collar before doing anything. He likes it when you leave marks on his neck.

Make no mistake though, he is not submissive in the slightest. He just wants what he wants and you better give it to him.

Gets pretty clingy so please do not try to leave the best post-orgasm even to clean up. He’ll get grumpy.

If you’d like to request some headcanons for other boys here’s our available list to choose from! - Dere-Boy Lineup

If you’d like to submit a dialogue prompt for Minho or any of the other boys here’s how to do that! - Submission for Dialogue Prompts

And here's our masterlist if you wanna see what we've already written! - Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! - ❄️ & 🌻

[writteninkat]

vii - stargazing idiots

word count - 2,854

warnings - reader goes through what is caused by past trauma, mentions of death, mentions of murder

"Angels like you can't fly down hell with me. I'm everything they said I would be."

index

Right after All Might showed up, your body gave up on you and Tsuyu and Izuku had to help keep you up. Your eyelids felt heavier than ever and your head felt like it was going to burst. Your breathing is ragged and the last thing you see is Aizawa's bloodied body before darkness swallows you hole.

It's cold. So very cold.

You open your eyes only to be greeted by a never ending darkness. You feel like you're floating in water.

"Y/n." You hear his all too familiar voice. It's deep, if you could feel it it would feel like rubbing against sandpaper, it's also very cold and a sound that's void of any emotion.

"You did this to me." All of a sudden, Aizawa is standing in front of you, face bloodied and brusied, arms broken and turned to numerous directions. "Why are you so weak?!" He yells as tears begin streaming down your face.

You curl your body, placing your hand on your ears to try and block out your teacher's voice, but it's as if they're everywhere. They're around and inside you.

"I died because of you!" Aizawa yells, gis voice echoing inside your head. "The nomu didn't kill me, you did! You are a murderer! It's because you're so weak that I died!"

You scream, your body feeling immense pressure as hot tears stream down your face. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You yell.

"You killed me. You can never be a hero. You are a murderer, you hear me! I murderer!" You open your eyes, your body shaking as you watch his hand about to grab you.

"I'm not a murderer!" You yell, your eyes opening to the sight of a white ceiling. "Y/n! Calm down! It's just a nightmare!" You hear his gruff voice beside you, it always managed to calm you down. As you turn your head to face him, Katsuki can't help but feel his heart break at the sight of your cheeks wet with tears and eyes red and puffy.

"Suki..." You sob, your body immediately being pulled into a warm hug as Katsuki whispers shushes into your ear. His hand strokes your hair as his arms tigten around you. "It's okay, just let it all out. Cry to me. I'm right here."

Your loud sobs and yelling fill the rooms, even alerting some of the nurses but Katsuki motions for them to leave you two alone.

Your heart feels like it's being crushed and it feel difficult to breathe. Despite this, you don't want Katsuki to let you go. You don't want his familiar warmth to leave your side, not now when you're feeling especially vulnerable.

When your sobs quiet down, Katsuki slowly pulls away, looking into your eyes. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here." He shushes, wiping away your tears as his eyes analyze yours.

"You're okay. What made you cry out like that?" He asks, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You place a hand on his wrist, melting into his touch as you closed your eyes, letting your tears fall.

"Aizawa sensei... He... I killed-"

"We heard Y/n was yelling. What's wrong?!" Midnight barges in, making you immediately turn to her. Behind her she has Present Mic and someone else who's wrapped up in bandages.

Your eyes widen, "Aizawa... sensei..." You mutter, the bandaged-up person tilting his head to the side. "Yes? Are you okay, Y/n?"

Tears fill your eyes again, but this time, there's no longer weight on your shoulders or heart and it feels much easier to breathe. You start sobbing once again, Katsuki looking lost and confused as to what he's supposed to do.

"You're not dead!" You sob, "I thought I killed you- hic- because I was too weak!" You cry out, using your knuckles to wipe away your tears only for them to be replaced by new ones.

"I thought I became a murderer-hic-because I was too weak to protect you, and you died because of me!" You don't even notice Aizawa walking up to you. Despite his bandaged state and the casts he has on both arms, he pulls you into a slightly awkward hug. You wrap your arms around his torso, careful not to hurt him with it.

"Why are you carrying such a burden? Why do you have such thoughts, little girl?" Aizawa asks, his tone hurt. "I have these injuries because I chose to protect you, my students. If I ever get hurt, never, and I mean never blame yourself for it."

You bury your face onto his chest, tears rolling at his words. "Heroes go through stuff like these every time. We sacrifice ourselves to protect the weak and also to keep the peace. In your journey to becoming a hero, you will encounter many situations like these, some are even more worse. But just remember my words-" he pushes you softly, looking down at your swollen eyes. "-have courage, have faith on yourself and the people around you. Trust in them to prevail through just like how you will. Remember that we are all strong because we are heroes but that doesn't mean we have to carry all the burden by ourselves. Be good to yourself and let go if you need to. You're only sixteen, it's okay to act like a child sometimes."

You never thought you'd hear those words from your homeroom teacher who always seemed so indifferent, but at the end of the day, he truly does care about his students from the bottom of his heart.

"Good evening, visiting hours ended five minutes ago. Only miss L/n's guardian if allowed to stay with her." A nurse knocks on your open door, catching everyone's attention.

"I'll be her guardian-" Katsuki cuts off Midnight's words, "Not so fast. I'm her guardian."

"None of you are my guardians." You sigh, "It's been a tiring day and I just want you all to rest. Especially you guys, Aizawa sensei and Katsuki." You move to lay on your bed, but Katsuki raises you a questioning brow.

"What do you mean long day? You've been out for two days." Your eyes widen at his words. You turn to look at the teachers and they all giving knowing nods. "Wait- so does that mean-" You point at Katsuki who rolls his eyes, "Yes, dumbass. I've been watching over you this whole time." At the realization of his words, Katsuki turns away to hide his blush and yet again, fails to notice the red tips of his ears.

"Anyway, the doctors say that you'll be discharged tomorrow morning so you can-" You cut of Aizawa, "Finally go back to school!" You sigh, stretching your arms out and then letting out a sigh.

"I was going to say stay home and rest but if that's what you want then I won't stop you. Bakugou." Katsuki turns around, his face and ears no longer flushed and is back to it's natural scowling state. "I'm not sure how or why your parents allowed you to stay here at the hospital but I'm glad at least someone is taking care of her. There are many qualified pros scouting this area especially at night so you two can rest easy."

With one last nod, the teachers all walk away, bidding the two of you good night. The door closes and you reach over to take your phone from the bedside table, unlocking it. Your eyes widen at the sight of forty-seven missed calls from your mom and just as many number of unread text messages.

"Your mom was called by the school about your situation and assured her that you were alright, but I guess that didn't stop her from blowing up your phone." Katsuki says, eyes on the apple he's peeling.

"Sorry about that, I bet you didn't get enough sleep with all the calling." Your eyebrows knit together in cringe as you force out a smile to which Katsuki shakes his head at. "Your mom is probably the one who didn't get any sleep at all. You should call her and ensure to her that you're alright." He points the knife at your phone before returning back to peeling the apple.

You call your mother in facetime and it rings twice before she answers. "Y/n oh my god! Are you alright, baby?! No, don't answer that. I'm on my way there right now-"

"Mom, what do you mean on your way- here in Japan?" Your eyes scan her background, heart falling to your stkmach as you recognize the airport.

"Hold on! Stop, stop! Mom! You have work back there in the states, you can't come to Japan."

"But you're hurt-"

"Mom," You sigh, "Look, I'm sorry for worrying you. But I swear, I'm fine. Just a few bruises and scrapes but what's a hero without scars, am I right?"

Your mom looks like she stopped walking as she sends you a wordied expression to which you smile reassuringly at her. "I'm fine, mom. Don't worry about me. I'll be able to take care of myself."

"But who's taking care of you in the hospital? I'm going there right now and-"

"Mom, even if you did come here now, I'll be discharged by the time you get here. Plus-" you look at Katsuki who's busy slicing the apples into little slices, designing them to look like bunnies. "-Someone's already taking care of me here. I'll be fine."

Your mother sighs, defeated as you watch her turn around. "Just- stay safe okay? I don't have anyone else."

"I know, mom. I love you so much."

"I love you more, my baby girl."

The two of you pucker your lips for a kiss before ending the call. You lean your back onto your now inclined bed, looking down at the bunny slice Katsuki is offering you. He still has that glare in his eyes, but if you look into them even more, they're much more softer. You take the slice from his fingers, letting out a soft thank you before taking a bite.

"When you blamed yourself a while ago." He starts, making you flinch at the topic. "Don't do that again."

"Suki-"

He slams the knife onto the table, "Please. It's not your fault. Even the strongest people have weaknesses. Don't put all the weight on yourself, please."

Your eyes widen at how vulnerable his voice sounds right now. You reach over, placing a hand on his soft hair. You smile softly, "Alright. I'm sorry I did that. I promise to rely on you more."

Katsuki looks up at you, eyes glassy and face flushing. "I never said you needed to rely on m-"

"I wanna look at the stars." You cut him off quickly, hopping off your bed to saunter towards the window. You push the glass window open, leaning in and taking a deep breath of the cold night air, smiling. You look up at the stars, wishing you had access to the rooftop since the view would be better up there.

"You know, we are at the twenty fifth floor of the hospital." Katsuki says, folding the fluffy blanket that you didn't even realize you were using. You don't think it's yours given that you've never seen it before. Was it Katsuki's?

"What are you saying?" You ask, letting him put on a sweater on you. Again, this piece of warm clothing wasn't yours as well. But by the sweet caramel scent it gave off, you come to a conclusion that this belonged to the angry blond gremlin who is currently standing on the window why the hell is he standing on the window?!

"Bakugou! Are you crazy?! Get off the window now!" You yell, pulling at his pants. "Oh stop being a square." He pushes the warm blanket on you, pulling you with him off the window and out of the hospital room. Before you let out a scream, he uses his quirk to push you two upwards, his hand gripping your sides tightly as your feet land on the cemented rooftop of the hospital.

At the notice of you no longer in the doorstep of death, you resort to hitting Katsuki's arm, letting your mouth run as you lecture him about how dangerous that act was. He responds to your reprimanding with a loud, milky, genuine laugh. Your hand comes to a hault as well as your mouth and you just stand there, awestruck at how handsome Katsuki actually looks when he's smiling.

You place a closed hand on your chest, feeling as your heart thumps against it vigorously. Ah, there it was again. The butterflies in your stomach that made your body feel lighter than it usually felt and your drying throat as well as your sweating palms.

"Come on, I find stargazing relaxing." He says, the usual angry tone of his voice gone, catching you off guard. He wraps his hand around your wrist softly, pulling you towards the center of the rooftop. He places the soft blanket on the ground, folding it once so it isn't too thin before laying down, patting the empty space for you. You mirror his actions, laying down beside him as you gazed up at the stars.

"You ever wonder what the alternative universe us are like?" You ask, eyes staring up at the twinkling stars as Katsuki raises a brow, turning his head towards you. "You believe in that bullshit?" He chuckles, making you gasp. "Don't call it bullshit! What else are the stars for??"

Katsuki presses his lips together to stop his laughter, "I don't know~ What are they for?" He asks you, tone sarcastic and pushing you off the edge. "To tell us about the future, and to show us how many other worlds are there other than ours!"

Katsuki can no longer hold in his laughter, clutching his stomach as he laughs his heart out. You narrow your eyes at him, pouting and crossing your arms against your chest. "Let me guess, let me guess." Katsuki wipes a tear away, "You also believe in the red string of fate?"

"How could you not believe it when-" You stop yourself from continuing your words. How could you not believe it when it caused the two of us to meet?

"When what? Come on, tell me! I promise not to laugh." You turn away, sitting up. Katsuki is still laughing as he follows you, taking your hand in his. "What else do I not know about you?" He asks, curling his four fingers with yours as he stands his thumb up, preparing for a thumb wrestle. You follow his actions and the two of you start the game. "I can't swim." You start.

"I had a pet goldfish but it died after a week." Katsuki chuckles.

"I only ever had two friends growing up- they were my mother's bodyguards. Eliot and Andrew."

"I like to cook."

"I still have my stuffed toys from when I was young."

"I tried to learn how to drive but after almost running over a cat, I swore never to drive again."

"I was pretty popular in middle school."

You chuckle, "I was bullied in middle school."

Katsuki stops moving his thumb, allowing you to pin his down. Your face brightens up as you smile, "I win!" You look up at him, smile almost immediately falling at the sight of his grin expression.

His head drops, covering up his eyes. "Hey, what happened? Did I say something wrong? Come on Suki, talk to me."

"I'm- Do you hate bullies?" He asks, his head still hanging.

"Well, hate is a strong word..." You look up at the stars, as if they were going to give you the right word you were looking for. "But I dislike them. What's the point of putting down someone especially when they've done nothing wrong to you? I don't use the word hate because I don't want to use it incorrectly, but to me bullies are sometimes just misunderstood or something. They have that superiority complex and I like to think that they have it because of their past that we don't know about or the thoughts they have in their heads."

You feel him padding his thumb over your hand. "Hey, you okay?" You ask, cupping his jaw to make him look uo at you. The look in his eyes, takes you aback- he looks so sad and regretful which only stirrs up more questions in your head.

"You're so good. You're such a good person, Y/n." His words cause you to furrow your brows in confusion. What was going on inside his head?

He drops his head to your shoulder, "You're an angel, Y/n. People are so lucky to have you in their lives."

You don't even think twice before the words leave uour mouth. "Even you?"

It takes him a few moments to respond and you begin to think that you made a mistake asking him that, but you feel him nod on your shoulder. "Especially me."

[gallickingun]

can i get a 31 with baku? nsfw or sfw if possible? if not that’s okay, i just love how you write him!

a/n: we can get a lil spicy, darlin, i don’t mind! i hope you enjoy this one!! super spicy from the get go so, under the cut! 

ps, couldn’t decide between spicy stuff or edible stuff as the “something”, so i went a total curveball and chose blood! it’s not a lot, but just in case anyone is uncomfortable, i wanted to put the warning! also, there is a gratuitous use of the word bitch by katsu himself. just in case you don’t like that sort of thing. 

pps, oh god. we’re kinda doing a little breeding thing here. nothing crazy, lol, but some subtle stuff towards the end!! 

Prompt #31: “You’ve got something on your lip. Here, let me.”

Katsuki keeps you under his thumb for hours, it feels like. 

You’re sure at some point you stopped breathing or your eyes rolled back too far and they’re stuck. However, he does not let up long enough for you to care. Bakugou is heavy as he loiters over the top of you, knees on either side of you as he lays you out, bare as a baby.

“Kacchan,” you whimper, your head thrown back as his fingers probe at you again, teasing your nipples under his harsh touch. Bakugou chuckles, leaning back on his thick thighs to glower down at you, “Yeah, baby?”

You whine at the sound of his voice, your eyes screwed shut and your hands reaching out for something to touch. Your lips part for you to ask him something, but you choke when his hand encompasses the lower half of your face, palm covering your mouth as his fingers dig into your cheeks. Your head is thrust into the pillow, the heel of his palm near your ear so he can hold you down. His voice rings out in the room but you can’t see him, not with the way he has you pinned down.

“Hush, little one,” his tone is chilling, but it does the job. Your hips roll forward, thighs spread evenly for him to peer between, “I’ll tell you when we’re done, yeah? No complaining, baby girl, you wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

You’re nodding as enthusiastically as you can, hardly able to move from under his grip but trying nonetheless. You curl your hands around the sheets beside your hips, a whine dying out in your throat as tears gather in the corners of your eyes from sensory overload. He leans forward, just enough that his hard cock brushes your overstimulated clit, the jolt to the puffy nub making you cry out against his open palm.

“You think you’ll make it?” he teases you, starting to nudge his nose over your jugular. He whispers next, tongue finding your earlobe, “I love fuckin’ your pretty little pussy. You think you can turn it out for me one more time?”

You’re honestly not sure what number orgasm this is, your body stopped caring after the first few. He’s had you coming around his knuckles and his mouth, but not his cock, not yet. Bakugou runs his thumb over your jawline, mouth preoccupied with lavishing your chest. He hovers over your pert nipple, hot breath forcing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

So, when he repeats himself, you whimper into his hand and nod, tears running down your temples into your hair. He tilts his head, smirking down at you, “Good girl. Now spread your legs.”

You listen, irises blown wide as your knees knock against the mattress, pussy butterflied open so he can brush his knuckle into your slick with no issues. Your lips part and you lick over the seams of his palm, a cry muffled by his skin. His thumb touches your temple, wiping at the wetness caused by your tears. 

“What do you want?” he coos, mouth searching your throat for the perfect spot to bloom a bruise. “C’mon, baby girl, tell me what you want.”

His hand is still over your face, restricting your movements. He doesn’t move away to let you speak, so you start to babble into his hand, whining despite the inability to hear your words so they sound like nothing more than syllables strung together carelessly.

Bakugou nips at your jaw, forcing another whimper from your lips. Just as your mouth parts for the sound, he dips his middle finger directly into your heat, the squelching sound of your slick and his finger echoing against the walls. Your hips buck up into his hand, fists close to tearing holes in your sheets. He laughs at your movements, brow tugged as he watches you come undone.

Finally, his fingertips drag down your face, thumb pausing on your lower lip as you continue to beg for him, drool seeping out of either side of your mouth. His thumb brushes your swollen clit and you whine, clenching your thighs around his forearm to try and slow his motions so you can give your body a break.

“Let go,” his voice is curt, fingers stilling. When your thighs don’t immediately release him, a quirked-laced slap stings the curve of your thigh just below your ass. He’s glaring down at you when you finally manage to open your eyes, glassy orbs trying to take him in.

“P-Please, Katsu-I,” your words are cut by the feel of his palm slapping your thigh in the same spot. Your vision goes white, body arching away from him but knees releasing his elbow nonetheless.

“Did you think I was fuckin’ playin’?” Bakugou curls his finger into you, pulling out slowly so he can collect all of your slick, using it on himself while he yanks you forward by your hair. You squeak, pupils blown as you look him in the eye, the tip of his hardened cock brushing over your enflamed outer folds.

He smirks, tilting his head forward to capture your mouth in his, still playing with your entrance with the head of his dick. You’re unable to focus, all of the stimulus making your nerves stand on end, your mind hazy with a mixture of pleasure and fatigue.

“C’mon,” he whines sarcastically, imitating you when you’re at your most needy, “make out with me, babygirl, c’mon. Kiss me.”

“Suki, please.” 

He echoes your words back to you, holding you by the jaw with one hand while the other is still in your hair, “Suki please, Katsuki please, Kacchan please,” he laughs, the patronizing tone ringing like a taunt in your ears. “Please what, huh? What do you want, you pathetic little bitch?”

You’re trying desperately to touch him, kiss him, grab at him, whatever you can do. Your body is wanton for him, begging you to become one. You pout, looking up at him with watery eyes, “Please, wanna touch you?”

Bakugou hums as if considering you, eyes wandering all over your face to map out your features so he can remember this expression later. He nips at your lower lip, sucking on the flesh and rolling it between his teeth. You want to jerk your body but you’re afraid if you move too suddenly, he might break skin. 

However, any inhibition you have of sitting still is gone when he rams his cock cervix-deep into you, bottoming out on the first stroke. You cry out, your head pulling away from him just enough for his canine teeth to draw blood.

Your head is rested against the pillow, hands still shaking with the desire to paw at him like an animal. Your eyes water from the pain on instinct alone, but all you can focus on is the rhythm of his hips, the way he snaps up into you like you’re nothing but a little plaything, your body weightless in his grasp. Your lower lip hangs open, his hand in your hair the only thing keeping you upright. You keen, whining into the air loud enough that you’re sure the other side of the city can hear.

“Shit,” Katsuki’s hips stutter as his eyes make contact with the small cut on your mouth leaking blood. He tilts his head, trying to keep his rhythm as he builds the both of you to the crest of a wave. “You’ve got something on your lip.”

Before your tongue can dart out to take care of it, he stops you with a particularly violent thrust. Your eyes roll around in your head and your tongue lolls to the back of your throat as you begin to lose your peripheral vision, the overstimulation sending you closer to the cliff.

“Let me,” he grunts, kissing you square on the lips before dragging his tongue over the small crimson stream on the corner of your mouth. When he grazes the cut itself, it stings and you feel another round of tears settle in your lids. Bakugou kisses the spot where your lip is split, his irises softening when he glances at the cut.

His hips roll slower, as if seeing you injured, even in the slightest, makes him gentle. Bakugou brushes his thumb under your lower lip, “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

You clench around him, feeling the way his cock spasms as you tighten your walls, a little bit of your combined slick coating your thighs. Your throat bobs as you thrash underneath him, desperate for friction on every part of your body.

“Can you touch me?” Bakugou kisses a line down your jaw, breath heaving over your flushed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He sounds borderline whiney, “Wanna feel your hands on me, c’mon. Touch me.”

Doing as told, your hands are released from the wrinkled sheets, immediately finding his shoulders. You dig your hands into his muscled back, holding onto him so you can jut your hips forward to meet the base of his cock. His name is tumbling out of your lips again, the swell of your injury making your mouth heavier. 

“K-Katsu, I-I’m gonna-ah.” You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, knowing how he loves to brag to his teammates when you leave scratches and half-moon imprints all over his back.

Bakugou trails his hands down your thighs until he’s cupping your ass, yanking you harshly so he can hold you while he mercilessly drives into you. You swear he’s bruising your cervix, eyes crossed and body on hyperdrive as he forces you closer towards the crest of the wave of pleasure you’re both begging to ride. 

You’re squeezing his cock between the walls of your pussy when he feels himself hit the edge, barely able to hold himself off as he grunts out his next words, “C’mon, baby, beg for it.”

“Suki, please! Please come in me!” You’re scraping your nails down his back to try and keep him attached to you at the waist, your eyes bulging within their sockets. He tilts his head, considering you, “Yeah, what do you want?” 

“Fuck, ‘Su,” you whine at the feel of his bulging cock, ready to spill into you but he’s holding back, “p-please, wan’ you to fill me up with your come, wanna have your baby, Kacchan! C’mon, please, please! Please come in me, come in me now, please...” 

Bakugou curses, unable to contain himself anymore when he hears your sweet tone screaming out for him, begging for a part of him that he only wants to give to you. His cock twitches one last time before he’s filling you up, brushing his thumb over your clit to try and push you into another orgasm as well.

“N-No,” you’re shaking your head, one hand, the left one where your sparkling diamond ring catches the moonlight filtering in through the blinds, touching his wrist gingerly, “I-I’m okay, i-it hurts.”

Immediately he retracts from you, his protective instincts kicking in, “Shit, babe, fuck, I’m sorry.”

You swallow, the bruising cut on your lower lip more obvious now that he’s starting to come out of his haze. His thumb finds your wound, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘Suki, I’m okay,” you swallow the saliva building in your throat, “d-don’t leave me, not yet.”

He keeps his hips snapped into you, plugging you up and making you wince. He has one hand on your face, the other running his fingertips up and down your thigh in a soothing motion. After planting a kiss to your knee, he leans forward to kiss up your sternum to your lips, “Such a good girl, yeah? You did so good.”

“Hmm, thank you,” you manage, tired eyes threatening to close. “Always wanna be good for you.”

“I know.” Bakugou wraps an arm around your waist, “Gonna pull outta you now, alright?”

You brace yourself, but it still burns a little, your overstimulated organs begging for relief. You whine, turning your head so your face is cupped in his hand, eyes hidden behind his knuckles. Bakugou’s mouth is instantly on your face, soothing you as best he can. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and over your nose, hoping he can distract you from the busted lip and stinging between your thighs. The coolness of his matching golden ring on his left hand keeps you awake, keeps you on this plane with him instead of succumbing to sleep.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” his voice is in your ear, nose trailing down the column of your throat before tilting back so he can kiss your earlobe. “So fuckin’ good, baby.”

“Love you, Katsu’.” You lace one of your hands in his hair, the other anchored to his shoulder as you hold him close. His free palm ghosts over your stomach, his thumb brushing just under your navel. He’d never tell you, but it’s almost a ritual for him to touch you there after you’re finished for the night, as if he were willing an heir to his name into your belly.

Bakugou kisses between your brows, a smile on his face, “I love you too, now it’s time for bed.”

--

GAH. IDK WHAT THE HECK THAT WAS. I’M SORRY IF YOU HATED IT. I MIGHT HAVE HATED IT. WE’LL SEE IF I LEAVE IT UP. 

taglist: 

@kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @hoe-biscus @kingtamakimurder @myherofuckademia @myherowritings @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @bnhasidebin @ua-imagines @lovekatsukibakugo @aizawamirite @plusultrawritings @bnha-violetnote @yuueimagines @suckersuki @heroes-landing @bnha-mha-imagines @heroesreverie @pink-imagines @brattyquirks @kazooli

[fuckinuchihas]

This was my first time writing Aone, really so I hope you like it! Merry Christmas @introloves​

When Christmas morning comes around, you feel a bit overwhelmed. You’ve put up the tiny discount tree and decorated, but with it being your first real Christmas by yourself, it was a little difficult to figure out everything you needed to do on your own. Fortunately, you weren't truly alone: You had the help of your amazing boyfriend.

You put the saucepan of water on, determined to make your own Champurrado but stop short of turning it on when you hear a soft, polite knock on the door.

You scrunch up your face a little but quickly go to answer it. 

Aone’s looming figure greets you and you can’t help but smile up at him. 

“You didn’t have to!” you say, surprised to see him when you know he could be spending this time with his family. 

“You’re alone,” he says matter of factly, and while it’s not untrue it doesn’t feel good to hear it. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it but the words draw attention to the hollow parts of you. 

It takes a few minutes to realize his arms are laden with packages and bags. “I-those aren’t all for me are they?” you ask, eyes bulging at the sight of it all. 

He waits politely for you to invite him in, which you do once you take a second to breathe. He ducks through the entry and immediately sits the packages down by the tree. With a nod to you, he takes some bags and goes into the fairly small kitchen in your tiny apartment. 

He grunts a bit as he pulls items out of bags. There’s ingredients and fresh fruit, and you start to get an idea of what’s happening. “Are you...cooking for me?” you ask, still unbelieving that any of this is happening. 

Aone hears the hesitance, the disbelief in your voice and he stops what he’s doing. He turns to you, large hands cupping your face as he drops his gaze to meet your eyes. “I want to-I want to take care of you, today. Please.” 

You start to object based purely on the insecurities you have and the overwhelming feeling as if you’re undeserving but there’s something about the way he holds you, the way his eyes and expression spell sincerity, about everything you’ve experienced with him over the last ten months that stops you. 

“You always do, ‘one.” 

You have never seen Aone smile so brightly and it warms your heart to the core. 

He gently guides you to the couch and motions for you to have a seat before coming back a few minutes later with a soft fuzzy blanket from your closet, and one of the biggest bowls of popcorn you’ve ever seen. You didn’t even realize you had a bowl that large. 

You decide to not worry too much, or at least you try not to, and you focus on the fondness and love you feel when you think of the sweet, wonderful man you’ve fallen head over heels in love with. 

A bit later you smell something delicious in the kitchen and you groan a bit wondering when you’ll be able to taste whatever is creating that delightful scent. You feel a little guilty sitting on the couch playing around on your phone while he’s actively doing something kind for you but you know if you get up to help he’s only going to give you that sad, mildly disappointed look so you stay seated. 

It’s not much longer before he brings in a large tray, practically the full length of your small coffee table, and sits down enough food for twice as many people. There’s a couple different meat choices and a plate of pancakes with some eggs fried over medium beautifully seated on top. A bowl of fruit sliced up with a bottle of honey and a package of granola sit at the opposite corner but in the middle there are two large mugs with holiday prints on the outside that are filled to the brim with a familiar aroma. 

“Did you...did you make Champurrado for me?” you ask, surprised. 

He nods in response and holds the warm mug out to you. 

You take a drink and moan as the warm liquid splashes onto your tongue. It’s just the right amount of spice and chocolate and you are more than a little impressed. Not that Aone ever ceases to amaze you. 

“Eat,” he says with a short grunt and you just look up at him with wide eyes. 

“Thank you Nobu. I really appreciate everything,” you answer, trying and failing to ignore the slight flush of his cheeks but he nudges your plate toward you with a soft push so you don’t comment any further on it. 

After breakfast you start to clean up and he goes to stop you but that’s where you put your foot down. “No, you cooked I can do the cleanup. Thank you for wanting to do all these nice things for me but I can’t just sit around while you do all the work.”

He eventually agrees and you take the leftovers to the kitchen and start to clean up, not that there’s much of a mess he’s cleaned up after himself except for dishes and putting away spare food. 

You hear a bit of rustling around in the living room but ignore it to focus on finishing your own tasks.

When you get back to the living room there’s a jar that is filled to the brim with something that looks like brown paper. There’s a tag on the front that you can read once you get a little closer that says “25 THINGS”

You stare at it oddly, but he passes it over to you.

“Open it,” he says, and you hesitantly uncap the jar. 

The brown paper you saw is in fact brown slips of paper neatly rolled up. He turns the lid over and you gasp. “25 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT YOU” 

“I- this is…” you start to lose your cool, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. 

You pull a slip of paper out and with his encouragement, you unfold it. 

#17 The way your small hand fits in mine 

He motions for you to keep going, and you’re helpless to stop. 

#4 The softness of your skin

#9 The way your eyes light up when you talk about the things you love

#21 The way you look at me; not in fear but with care 

#1 Your warm hugs 

By this time, the tears are falling without your permission but he just swipes them away without a word and asks that you keep going. 

#7 Your kiss, your touch, the way you make me feel safe with you

#2 When you hum along to a familiar song

#10 The kindness of your heart

#11 Your big brown eyes

“Nobu I can’t- this is all too much I don’t deserve all of these..” you start but he silences you with a finger pressed to your lips. 

“It’s not for you to argue, It’s how I feel,” he says, then taking another slip of paper and handing it over to you. “You can trust me.” 

#24 Your generous soul

#8 The rare moments when you’re proud of yourself

#22 Your laugh, it reminds me that I’m more than a statue 

The tears are streaming now, each line more and more overwhelming. You don’t understand how anyone could think and feel all of this for you but you do trust him, you trust his heart, and trust that he would never lie to you. Aone hands you a tissue and asks if you would like to take a break. 

The problem with that is that you know you’re just going to start crying again so you might as well get it all out at once. 

#3 How strong you are, how you keep fighting for me every day 

#25 The way you hold me, the way you let me hold you 

#13 Feeling your smile against my lips or my skin

You still feel flooded with unexplained emotions but you pucker your lips and he quickly gives you exactly what you’re asking for. When the tears start up again, this time you’re smiling. “I love that too,” you say, grinning purposely against his mouth. 

#5 Your voice in the morning, sleep soft and warm

#16 The smell of your shampoo

#18 How you make your eyes look even bigger and more beautiful

“Do you mean my eyeliner?” you ask, and he shrugs but you’re pretty sure that’s a yes. You’ll keep that in mind for later.

#6 When you speak faster and louder because you’re excited

#20 The way you feel sitting in my lap

You waste no time crawling into his lap after reading this, and promise that whenever the two of you are alone, he can reach out for you and you’ll always give him that closeness, that intimacy.

#15 The rise and fall of your chest while you sleep

#12 How you make me feel so strong and powerful, like I can do anything

You’ve calmed your breathing a little, controlling the tears a bit but you’re not sure how long it will last and this nearly has you sobbing again. ‘You can, you can do absolutely everything. I believe in you more than I believe in anything or anyone else.” 

“That’s how I feel,” he says, and you melt into him all over again. 

#23 When you taste like strawberries, vanilla, or just you

#19 How you always think of others before yourself

#14 The way you made room for me in your heart when I know it wasn’t easy

“This all feels so one sided, like you’re doing all the work. I want to take care of you too, ‘one,” you say, looking up at him with glassy eyes. 

“You always do.” 

You kiss him forcefully, crawling up to loop your arms over his shoulders and press your face into his neck. “I love you so much, Takanobu.”

“And I you,” he says, patting your head gently as you breathe in his comforting scent. “One day I hope you will love yourself as much as I love you.” 

“I’ll try,” you say, and it’s the most you can promise but that’s enough for him.

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

Do you remember that time I told you I cried while writing a thing for the unedited v!Wind fic, @w1lmutt. Do you.

Consider this a warning: It’s karma time 8)

<<First Part 6 Next>>

"Oh." Link stops dead, halting their limping journey into the village. He looks around like he's not sure if he's dreaming. "Oh."

“Link? Is that you?” Mesa calls from his vegetable patch. Link sways as he stares at the man, looking like he's seeing a ghost instead of a perfectly hale and healthy Hylian. "Goddesses, you don't look so good. Are- are you holding up alright?"

"He'll be fine," Tetra replies, when it becomes clear Link can’t respond.

"And Tetra too." The man shakes himself. "Aryll was looking for you, Link. You'd... you'd better get on home," he says, horribly sympathetic. Link feels his heartbeat hitch.

"No," he breathes. Tetra nearly drops him as he jerks forward. "No, no no no, I was supposed to have more time- I’m not ready-!”

~o0o~

"Liiiiiiink!" A voice echoes faintly down into the cave. The heroes look up as one, reacting to their shared name. "Where are youuuuuu?"

A beat. "No one recognizes her, right?"

A round of negatives. Then, from further away, "Big brootheeer! Liiiiiink!"

"...You don't think-?"

"The villagers?"

They exchange looks. Time makes his way out of the fountain first. He surveys the now empty forest, frowning. "We should make haste."

~o0o~

There’s a crowd gathered on his doorstep by the time Link manages to stagger his way home. Their grim voices sweep over him like the tide, rushing in and out. He can’t grasp a single word they’re saying.

Sturgeon, the closest thing Outset has to a doctor, is kneeling next to her. He looks up when Link barges in. "Come now, old friend," he murmurs to Link's grandma, patting her hand. "Look who's come to see you. Won't you open your eyes for your dear grandson?"

“Mister Sturgeon? Is she- she’s gonna be okay, right?” Link pants. “What happened?”

“She collapsed outside. Gave poor Aryll quite the fright. We brought her in but... I’m afraid there’s not much to be done, lad.” The old man looks almost calm, almost resigned—already grieving, which isn’t fucking good enough.

Link seizes him by the collar. “What do you mean not much to be-!” He starts to snarl. Stops. Grandma’s eyelids are fluttering open.

“Link...?” She breathes, terrifyingly soft. “Is that you, dearie?”

He drops the useless old man immediately, falling to his knees next to the cushion she’s laid out on. “Grandma, hold on, just hold on, I’ll- I’ll get a potion, no, a fairy, just-!“

“Goodness. It feels... like it’s been such a long time since I last saw you. You’ve grown.”

Link freezes. He clutches at her hand gently, desperately. “No I haven’t,” he croaks. “I was here when you fell asleep. I haven’t- I haven’t aged a single day since then, I made sure-”

“You’ll stay a while this time... won’t you?” She wheezes, hazy and unfocused. “I’d like... to be able... to see you off again...” She sighs, eyes drooping. Her hand falls limp.

“Grandma?” He whimpers. “Grandma, I’m not going anywhere. Wake up, please wake up, just a little longer, I’m- I’m almost ready-” A feverish light enters his eyes. “I finally found it,” he promises her. “A way to show you Hyrule. Fields bigger than entire islands, and forests full of creatures we’ve never seen before, and huge deserts of sun and sand dunes. The winds there are so sweet, not a lick of ocean salt to be found, and it’s so beautiful-“ His voice breaks. “You can’t leave without even seeing it, Grandma. You can’t.”

Grandma doesn't respond.

Instead, Link jerks as a most unwelcome voice offers, “...Try this."

The heroes that did this stand gathered by the doorway, in the space the villagers had vacated to give him some privacy. They look as though they’ve been there a while. The Hero of Time holds out a bottled fairy like a peace offering.

“You,” Link hisses. Stops. Tetra’s laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Why would you...?”

“Thank you,” she tells Time in his stead, accepting the fairy and shoving it into Link’s hands. Link stares down at it, shakes himself, and promptly upends the container onto Grandma’s chest.

The little sprite spirals and spirals, scattering pixie dust. Nothing changes.

Frantic now, Link feels for her pulse. It takes him far too long to find it—faint and stuttering. “Why isn’t it working?!”

Hyrule pushes forward. “Let me try,” he offers, hands up like Link is a wild animal he’s trying not to spook. “I don’t have much experience with old people, but I know some healing magic. Maybe I can help.”

Link stares at him, the words taking longer than they should to comprehend. He gnaws at his lip, once, before giving his permission with a tight nod.

“Careful, ‘Rulie,” someone cautions. Link doesn’t bother looking up to see who, eyes fixed on the glowing hands the older boy lays on his grandma’s chest. “You’ve used too much magic today. Potions only do so much.”

"It's fine." Hyrule casts once, words falling musically from his lips. When the light dies, his patient looks no different. Frowning, he tries again, slower, hands running up and down Grandma’s form, picking up her hands and cupping them in his own.

At last, panting, Hyrule shakes his head, and Link could run him through where he stands.

“Why not?! You said you could help!”

“He said he’d try, kid. Back off.” Not unkindly, Legend forces him to step away from Hyrule.

The healer, for his part, merely shakes his head again. “I don’t understand it. There’s barely any life left in her. I’m sorry, but I don’t—I’m not even sure how she’s breathing right now.” He steps away, gently placing her hands back on the blanket. “It’s... almost as though she's been hollowed out. She’s been beyond saving for a long time now.”

“No- no that can’t be right, she was having a good day when, when I- she was outside, she was walking, she was, she wasn’t-!”

The travelers exchange glances. Legend is the only one callous enough to say what they all suspect. “Then that curse probably drained whatever she had left, kid.”

Link whirls on him with a snarl. “You’re lying!“ He yells, fingers itching for a sword that isn’t there. “She wasn’t-!”

“They’re not,” Tetra cuts in. She has her arms folded across her chest, tight. Link still catches the shiver she tries to hide. “If what that... thing did to her was anything like what it did to me... ‘drain’ is a good way to put it.”

Link shakes his head again. “You’re lying,” he chokes. Slower, broken, he whispers, “it wasn’t supposed to hurt her.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyrule repeats again, uselessly. “But I don’t think she’ll last the night. She doesn’t have enough energy left.”

Link is about to do something—beg, lash out, scream, please can’t you use mine, when-

“Who are you guys?” A high voice demands from beyond the crowd of heroes. “Why are you in my house?”

“Aryll,” Link breathes.

His sister doesn’t hear, squirming her way in while shouting, “Link? Big Brother, are you home? Grandma, Grandma she-”

She breaks past the travelers. Stops dead when she takes in the scene. “Big brother? Why are you crying?” She utters. “Grandma’s- Grandma’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

Link opens his mouth. Closes it. Trembles.

Twilight, standing closest to Aryll, puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder and gently urges her closer to Link, to Grandma. Like that might do anything. Like that might help.

His hands clench into fists. “Get out,” he rasps. Aryll clutches at his sleeve. They’re both trembling now.

“Are you sure?” Hyrule hesitates, and Link hates the way he looks at them. The way they’re all looking at him and his family. “Maybe we should-”

“Get out get out get OUT!” He demands, voice rising to a shriek. With a sharp swing of his Deku leaf and a massive blast of air, most of the intruders are sent tumbling backwards, out to the porch. The ones that manage to keep their feet are swiftly escorted out by a grim-faced Tetra.

The pirate captain surveys them with cool eyes as they gather themselves, as they exchange uncertain glances. “You don’t need to be here,” she says, giving voice to what they’re all thinking. “Scram. Outset doesn’t have lodgings for travelers; go figure out where you’ll stay if you’re staying, or where you’ll go if you’re going. Except you,” and here she jabs her finger at Warriors demandingly. “You better stick around, because you are going to tell me the whole story later. Now get lost, all of you.”

Her piece said, she whirls on her heel and marches right back into the house they’d all been ejected from. The door thunks firmly shut behind her—a clear warning not to follow.

~o0o~

At the first hint of sunrise, Link knocks on Master Orca’s door.

“I know you guys are in there. I’m not here to fight.”

They crack open the door. Link’s a mess. He regards them all with glassy eyes, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, croaks, “where’s my sword?”

“Why should we give it to you?” They are, reasonably, rather wary at the request.

“I need it to get rid of the blockade. The monsters can’t stay, they’ll scare people.”

They consider this, consider the boy standing numbly before them. Finally, Wild fetches the blade from the depths of his Slate.

Link takes it. Nods at them. Turns around and trudges down to the ocean, single-mindedly making his way to the nearest platform on the water. The visiting heroes follow him as far as the shoreline, where he slips on the Helmaroc Mask and takes to the sky.

In the dim light of the false dawn, they stand vigil and watch as Link wordlessly, mindlessly slaughters his way from one end of the horizon to the other.

[whereisstevethestove]

Sight Chapter Two

Link to Chapter One here

AO3

Summary: In which we meet the Wicca, the Phantom, the Sighted, and the Boyfriend.

There is a wicca who has lived in the forest for far longer than any creature.  They watch over the forest and they wait, wait for someone to come asking for help.  There is a wicca that took a boy’s face in his hands and cursed him with Sight, at the cost of his vision.

This wicca has a simple name and October is not one to remember them.  

…

Logan is carrying Virgil through the forest, steps heavy as he holds his unconscious friends close, Roman and Remus helping guide him in their own way.  The two of them alone are loud enough to help the teen navigate to where he knows the wicca still lives.

Remus stops abruptly, chittering and Logan almost trips over him.

“My apologies Remus.  Is the wicca there?” Footsteps.

“Well, I am now.  What are you doing here darlin?”

Logan stiffens.  The wicca’s voice is sugar sweet but there’s an undertone that makes  him want to step back, leave Virgil and run, because it’s not safe, the wicca isn’t safe.

“My friend needs help.”

“Oh, you’re that blind kid.  I forgot about you.”  The wicca muses and Logan flinches as the steps start again, until he can feel the wicca’s breath crossing his face.

“Phantom touched, strange.  He should be dead.”

“I know.”  Logan’s breath hitched with an aborted sob.  “I don’t want him to die.”

There’s a hand caressing his forehead and Logan’s mind feels like it’s splintering, fragmented memories belonging to the wicca making him dizzy.

“Huh.  You love him.”  The voice is softer now.  Logan nods.

“Very well, come on, give me him and the sprites will guide you.”  The wicca moves his hand from Logan’s head and they carefully transfer to holding Virgil.

Remus is almost immediately wrapped around Logan’s neck, Roman slithering up to settle across his hips and they begin to all walk again, blindly following, trusting that the wicca will figure something out.

…

October looks down at the body in his arms as they near the home.  This...Virgil is smaller, looks like he’s not from the country and his fingers are greying, and October is almost worried that if he can’t revive the child, he’ll fade and become a Haunt.

They get to the door and October waves their hand to open it, the sighted child and his familiars close behind as the five of them make it to the brewing table and October gently places Virgil down.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Six months?”  Logan’s voice is shaky and October spares a glance to see that the sighted child is crying without bothering to wipe at his tears.  “He survived a Kelpie as a child and I saw it when he touched me.  He gets me.”

October sighed.  “Fickle mortals.  God, why did I decide to help?”  He turned back to Virgil and didn’t see the tightening of Logan’s jaw.  October pressed a finger to Virgil’s pinky and the limb dissolved.

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“What?”  Logan demanded and the sprites began to nervously trill.

“Get the fire sprite to wrap around his core, the poison one around his hand where I point, okay?”  October looked to Logan.  “He needs warmth and we might have to use the poison to counteract the phantom touch.”

Logan nodded and he gestured in the wrong direction, but the sprites got the memo, unraveling and going to follow the wicca’s instructions.

“I’m going to give you a stool to sit on.”  October waved a hand and the stool scooted across the room, gently bumping into Logan’s side.  “Now keep quiet.”

Logan, bless his soul, didn’t respond.  October reached for his pestle and then grabbed a quartz rock, dropping it in with a few Eurydice petals.  

“So, sighted child, I assume that life has been fine, considering you’ve found a few familiars for you and your friend.”

Logan, to his credit, shrugged.  October grabbed a hollyhock root and started to slice it before dumping it in the pestle.

“I need one of your hairs and some spit.”  

Logan grimaced, but he pulled out a chunk of his hair and held it out, which October took and put in.  He then waited for the pestle to be placed under his chin before spitting.  October grinned when the mixture flashed a royal blue.  He added a generous amount of beeswax, some of Virgil’s rapidly greying hair and added it, using a swab to get a minuscule amount of spit.

The mixture flashed violet, then grey, before settling on a beautiful gold color, now a paste that could easily mimic chapstick.  October spread a liberal amount over Virgil’s lips, then on his arms where the grey was creeping up.

They turned to Logan. 

“So, how far would you go to save your ‘friend’?  Would you do anything?”

“If it was within my power, then yes.”  Logan said.

October smiled.  “Excellent!!  You get to kiss him!” The look on Logan’s face was priceless and October cackled as he slid the pestle to Logan, so that it was touching the teen’s hands.

“Rub that on your lips and give him a smooch.  It’ll probably fix it.  True love and soulmates or whatever you want to call it.”

Logan dipped his hand into the pestle and drew out a bit of the paste, smearing it on his lips carefully, before standing and shuffling forward, hands guiding him.  He felt the sprites, up Virgil’s neck until he was gently cupping his friend’s face.  Logan took a breath and…

October wouldn’t say that it was magic, but the gentleness that Logan used when he kissed Virgil definitely seemed to be that way, even as the phantom touch receded, color returning to Virgil’s lips as he breathed in deeply.  The grey half of his hair did not return to color, nor did the missing finger, but October called that a win.

“Wicca?”  Logan sounded fragile and October looked at him.

“It’s October child.”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s February.”  Logan shot him a glare- three feet in the wrong direction.  “Did it work?” 

“I know it’s Feb-- fuck it, yeah, he’ll wake in a few minutes, I’m going to transfer him to my bed, you’re both welcome to sleep there for the night, it’s a pretty big bed, I’m going to crash on the couch.”  October brushed a hand to Logan’s and forced enough memories through so the sighted would be able to navigate to the nondescript bedroom in the back of the home.   He then scooped up the still sleeping Virgil, sprites and all before making his way to the back and dumping Virgil on the bed.

“He needs to be constantly warm, as to not trigger any residue phantom soul.  Phantoms feed off of the lonely and unloved- hence why the kiss cleared the majority.”  October turned to Logan.  “Cuddle him or something.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you wicca.”  Logan murmured and October found himself holding an armful of sighted.  “Thank you.”

“Sure, whatever.  Oh, my boyfriend might be by in the morning, he’ll make sure that you and Virgil will get an actual breakfast.”

Logan let go and crawled into the bed, arms going up to wrap around Virgil, the sprites tangling themselves into the pile.  All four were out within seconds and October smiled softly before shutting the door to leave them to rest.

…

Virgil woke up to see Logan's glassy eyes were open, gaze not quite staring at him, but he had a nice smile on his face.

“Hey Lo.”  He croaked out and Logan closed his eyes before squeezing him softly.

“Idiot.  Running off and getting phantom touched.”

“Sorry.”  Virgil murmured as a cooing reached his ears.  His chest heated up and he looked down to see that Roman was heating up slowly, his acid green eyes half lidded.  “Hey Ro.”

The sprite coo’d again and Virgil grinned.

“They were very helpful in finding you.”  Logan smiled.  “And the wicca of course, we’re resting in their house.”

“Ah.  That explains why this bed smells like sage and teakwood.”  Virgil sniffed and wrinkled his nose.  “I’m hungry.”

“The wicca’s boyfriend said he’d make us something.”

“Cool.”  Virgil’s head lolled a bit and he had to force himself to stay awake.  “Cool, cool.”

“You can go back to sleep Vee.”  Logan whispered.  “I’ll keep us safe.”

Virgil didn’t have time to respond before grey was clawing at the edge of his vision and sleep called him back, warm and safe.

…

Remy wouldn’t call himself October’s boyfriend, but hey, after three centuries of exclusively dating him, he had to guess that fine, they were dating.

Which is why he found it odd that the wicca was up early.  October was a lot of things, but an early riser was not one of them.

“Babes?  Please don’t tell me you pulled an all nighter.”  Remy plopped a grocery bag on the kitchen counter as October rolled his eyes.

“Nah, the sighted child came around last night with a phantom touched.  He’s fine now, oh, they’re soulmates btw, but they spent last night in my bed, and you know how lumpy the couch is.  I didn’t get much sleep.”

Remy shook his head.  “You never fail to surprise me.”  He pulled out a pan and bacon, slapping it on before throwing October a look.  “Can you light the stove?”

“What you can’t?”

“Please?”  Remy begged and after a moment, the stove lit up.  “Thank you!!”

The bacon was happily frying when he heard a sound, and as Remy looked up, he saw a limping phantom touched, the sighted one next to him, both leaning on each other, familiars winding around them like cats.

Oh, Remy really wanted to adopt these two- look at them, they were so cute with each other and the phantom touched carefully pulled out a stool, guiding the sighted one’s hand to it before finding a seat himself.

Remy pulled the bacon off and added the next slices.

“Hey boys.  Sleep well?”  

The sighted one shrugged.  “It was adequate.  I can’t speak for Virgil though.”

Ah, so the phantom touched one was Virgil.  Remy nodded and filled up two water glasses from the pitcher in the fridge before sliding it to the pair.  “I’m Remy.  I’m sure that October told you about me Sighted, but Virgil, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s October?”

“The wicca.”  Remy said cheerfully.  “I picked it for him after they told me about how obsessed they were with pumpkin spice.”

The Sighted snorted and Virgil let out a snicker as well.

“Our conversation makes more sense from last night.”  The Sighted mused as he reached and delicately picked up his water.

“What happened Lo?”  Virgil asked.  “I really only remember this morning before the sun was up.”

“We kissed.  Well, I kissed you, and it was only to seal the spell, so I’m sorry for not asking your consent.”

“Eh, it’s…”  Virgil stopped talking.

Remy looked back to see that the teen was staring at his hand in horror.  

“Logan, where’s my pinky?”

Logan looked confused.  “I was unaware that you were missing a finger.  Is anything else wrong?”

Virgil pulled out his phone before Remy could stop him and he dropped it once he saw his hair.

“I.. Logan--”  

Virgil collapsed and Logan lunged towards the sound, but Remy was throwing out a hand and freezing the teen’s body with a minor spell.

“Sighted, don’t touch him.  He’s been phantom touched and the residue shows up with strong emotions.  Let me and October deal with this.”

He turned off the stove the same time that October was entering the room and the both of them carefully moved Virgil back to the brew table, where they could see that Virgil’s veins were turning grey, heart pounding loud enough that it could be heard in the quiet of the room.

“Remy, go free Logan.”  October murmured as he began to mash up another concoction.  “Virgil will wake in a panic, and he needs a familiar face.”

…

Pain, pain, pain

Hunger

Feed me

LONELY.

Virgil could feel the other mind in his and the more he pushed against it, the worse it hurt, the louder it got….

Patton.

My name’s Patton.

“NO!”  Virgil pushed against it and he felt an ink cold sweep over him.

YES.