#(ignore the fact I didn’t mark on of the lines I’m fucking blind)

[sirofreak]

can i pls request a character sheet for grace skinner so i can begin my grace redemption arc

My giirllll ^_^

Let heliad’s grace redemption arc begin!!

Og post

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

[dreamcatcherrs]

can u do streamers with a plus size reader? ty i love ur fics ♡

+ reminder! every body type is beautiful in its own way, and I’m sure that all of the mcyts would want to date a person of any size! hope you enjoy<3

++ I also added a couple of insecurities that are common for a lot of people cause I felt like it ^-^

dating a plus size reader; mcyt x reader

dream:

dream is an absolute softie for you

he will literally carry you anywhere you go

even if you insist for him not to

he just lifts you up into his arms and runs off with you

as I’ve mentioned before, he loves squishy places of the body

especially the booty ;)

so expect a lot of grabbing whenever he’s near you (with your consent, of course)

always tells you how amazing you look

even if you’re only wearing sweatpants and a basic tee and feel like absolute shit

and he would definitely have you pose for pictures of his merch

georgenotfound:

he loves resting his head on you

uses your chest as his personal pillow

he thinks it’s absolutely crazy how you’re able to make every outfit look good

like, you could wear a plastic bag and still look like a model to him

you two go out to eat fast food at the most random times

some days midnight, some days at 5am

admires your confidence

sapnap:

THIGHS THIGHS THIGHS

he loves your thighs sooo much and always has his hands (or eyes) on them

he almost holds your thigh more than your hand

and he just thinks you’re so gorgeous and can’t believe he can call you his

but when he finds out you don’t think so, his mind is blown

like... what?

are you blind????

he tells you how “you’re so fucking hot” every day until you start thinking so yourself

badboyhalo:

loves baking cakes with you

and makes sure you’re always well fed

he absolutely adores your stretch marks!

he loves just tracing his fingers over the lines

following them around with his fingertips

and gets very focused about it to a point where he stops listening to you talk

he makes sure you never feel down about something as natural as stretch marks

and makes sure to kiss every place you're insecure about

technoblade:

techno literally doesn't care what you look like

he only cares if you're happy, cause he really hates seeing you sad

especially when he can't do anything about it

so when he catches you one day looking at yourself in the mirror with a look of disgust 

his heart crumbles in his chest

sits you down to talk about it

and gets more touchy afterwards along with spurring out compliments more often

wilbur soot:

wilby is also a big sucker for thighs

he’s not super grabby, but he gets his point across;

that he absolutely loves every part of your body

to be honest, like techno, I see wilbur as someone who literally does not care what you look like

if he likes you, he’ll love the way you look either way

he is very appreciative of soft, fleshy parts of your body

that he can just cling onto when he wants

jschlatt:

fuck, does schlatt love to have you on his lap

like he might not come across as someone who’s cuddly

but I’m telling you

he is super cuddly

he just wants someone to hold and to be held by

he needs that physical touch and he just can't seem to keep his hands off of you

he’ll tell you “you look so stupid right now”, laugh, and then give you a big ol’ bear hug

jokes aside, he makes sure you know just how dizzyingly beautiful you look 24/7

corpse husband:

fishnets, legs, fishnets, legs

even if you don't like wearing fishnets, he’s just all; legs, grab, thighs, squish

no but seriously he loves your legs so much

they just catch his attention and immediately make him go soft

without you doing anything you’ll just hear him giggle at you

and then realise he’d been looking at you for a hot minute, just taking in how absolutely stunning you look

and he doesn't fail to let you know that :)

karl jacobs:

like wilbur, I think he just genuinely doesn't care and loves you regardless of what you look like

we all know that karl’s way of showing affection is through touch

so he loves cuddling up to you

using your chest as a pillow and engulfing you in his arms

and he’ll be whining within a second if you even a much as try to move away from him

something he doesn't realise he does, but you do, is that he will just randomly hold on tight to a certain part of your body

even if you're just talking

his hands will be on you without him even noticing

and it’s really cute

skeppy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I think that skeppy really likes the way skirts look on you

or tight-fitting jeans

anything that compliments your body, really

though he does like the way you look without any clothes on

anyways, he fucking loves your body so much

and any person who thinks differently is not his friend

he’s always hugging you

or brushing his knuckles over your arms lovingly

small touches are his forté

fundy:

he can never seem to keep his eyes off of you

no matter how hard he tries, you’re just too gorgeous

isn’t the touchiest of the boys, but when he’s in the need for some physical touch, he’s very obvious about it

will start off by holding your hand

and then maybe move onto hugging you from behind

comes off pretty clingy once he needs that love and affection

he just loves touching you; maybe cause your skin is soft? he’ll never tell you (it’s his little secret)

quackity:

MMMME GUSTAAA

he looooooves loves loves  how, and I quote, “thicc you are”

and he gets so clingy, too

makes grabby hands at you if he needs to to catch your attention

and definitely, without a doubt, uses your chest as his personal pillow

he’s also a squisher

your thigh’s kinda become his little stress toy

alex will fully commit to being a complete simp for you - he does not care at this point

can get blushy sometimes when he catches himself looking at you for too long

punz:

if you thought that sapnap would be wild when it comes to thighs, let me introduce you to this man

luke is a massive sucker for some thick thighs

and don't even get me started on the flesh on your hips

he lowkey has an addiction to constantly keeping his hands on there, but it’s not like you mind

it’s like his hands are glued onto you sometimes

holding on tightly or gently, doesn't matter

and sometimes he’ll even get lost in the way his fingers dig into your skin

can't fathom the fact that you're all his

awesamdude:

sam is literally the cutest🥺

gives you compliments all the time

and literally always has a hand on you to gently caress your skin

and he is always gentle with his touches

and I mean always

drawing circles onto your back or arm using his thumb

placing small kisses on your temple

he always posts pictures of you on his instagram and twitter

has like one or two pictures of himself, and the rest are of you :]

slimecicle:

literally smothers you with love and affection

he loves the little dents in your thighs from cellulite

finds it sooo attractive

loves to trace his fingers over the dents

notices immediately if there are changes in your eating habits

and will confront you the second he notices cause he can't bare the thought of you eating less than usual

makes sure it never happens again

eret:

they have a special seat for you right on his lap

if you were comfortable with it she’d love for you to sit with them in his streams

SHOWERS you with compliments

constantly

and leaves trails of kisses everywhere

even if you whine about it being too much or distracting you

he ignores it and continues

can't believe she’s ended up with such a god/dess as you

jack manifold:

jack was completely shocked when he found out you were insecure about your body

what was there to be insecure about?

to his eyes you were completely perfect, and he just couldn’t understand how… you couldn’t see that?

makes sure you now how absolutely stunning you are

can't help but to show you off to everyone (he is a leo after all)

and also let’s his hands roam all over you - with your consent, of course!

adores you so much

tommy:

tommy had seriously never thought of it before you’d said that you didn’t want a piece of cake after he asked

and he goes; why?????

and you’re like; I shouldn't eat it

and he’s even more ???

doesn't know what why or when you decided you “shouldn't” do something as normal as eating

it’s so very obvious how soft he is for you when it’s just the two of you

and even succumbs to his soft side in front of others if he gets too caught up in your beauty

tubbo:

tubbo just… doesn't care

like, at all

but of course he notices the absolute beauty of you, and will simp for you

doesn't shower you with compliments, but gives subtle signs

a common one is squeezing your hand

or calling you cute or adorable

brushing a strand of hair out of your face

simplicity is his thing

ranboo:

lots of hugsss

unintentionally squeezes too hard so you have to tap his shoulder 

and he just giggles

he likes resting his head on practically any part of your body

cause you're so comfy

wants to constantly fondle you in his arms

he’s become so used to clinging to you, it’s just by instinct at this point

____________________________________

tag list✰

@zayenz @terribletoothbat @0t0n1n @0125cm @yukiuheh @shinee-is-5-forever @regularnoceur @b01nk-b0w@christhebish@nutritious-emo-crackkk@bookishreid@giavanna-707 @reddiesmcdonalds@cosmins@vixxzial@autumnpleaves@paradigmax@meaganjm@shiningsunrises@moralofwalls@username1212131@gxldentaestuff@innitdream @televisionpresent38 @bubblyanis@zurami @highoffhockey @popinjaytaylor@196os@livsbaby@doubts-of-gold@bunlina@retrav @mcyt-is-my-life@aleaisntcreative @my-shitpost-of-writing @my-shitpost-of-writing @clownsdrowning @pissbabywastaken@shiningsunrises @tie-dyed-dumbass @death-by-rats@simpfordraco @bippity-boppity-boopa@neongreendaydreams  @vibin-by-myself@littlepotatos0w0@christhebish @pipp-poppz@btsiguess-kpop@prettysmallfries@hiyoko-kos@kenmxskitten@fudrudy@weepingartanimespy@rhino-zucchini@goldenstarofthunderclan@melonmarz@ubeicecreamisthebest@polaroidinurroom @ady-yoo@isimpforeveryone@edenhollandd@ineedtogetoutofhere@glitter-night @hamilsandersfam@mothheart-witch @wrong-exit@trashcanfullofdork  @hellfirepheonixx @marshmallow-babe@isimpforeveryone @ky50621 @randomcloud@wormie4k@dinonuggies50  @p4rty-t4ttoos@aspenthegremlin@book-of-anarchy @jeyacore @thetattooink@gogywasfound@millavalntyne@junob1ade@ubeicecreamisthebest@karida @i-have-paws-love@drvgonraja@eatasslikegrass@creamofweep@venusomega@lunarfedora@rowe-n @wreny24 @vincent-stargogh @floatingplanets​ @vernon-dursley​ @childhoodgrunge​ @fivxss @hexagonclash​ @crazyjuls12​ @littlebabysandboxburritos @shifted-dreams@lenamarie666 @reinyrei @sozvuchiy @weaslvy-mxlfoy​ @aiofheavenandhell​ @honeyglaazed @carisle-mikealson​ @ineedtogetoutofhere​ @twist3dtinkerbell@cracraforfandoms@angel-dazey @leia-starly @smiithys​ @squiddyyyy​ @c0wc0ww​ @animeweeb019284​ @m00-bl00m-k0le @stqrs-thoughts @jenlouvre @uhhhguiltypleasures​ @trappedchest​ @punzrights​ @trashgremlin36​ @cyberrsoot​ @elebeleb​ @k3nn3dis-crap​ @karlshoodies​ @rascal-in-banishment​ @heartbroken-writer​ @bartok-the-magnificent​ @ihavenoideashelp​ @goldiefox1​ @bethybop​ @helluhru​ @venuzblr​ @pha5ed5tar50 @cscooop​  @bethybop @lunareclipse-13 @http-strawberryy 

[familyagrestefanblog]

Theory for “Gabriel Agreste”

Saying that I'm EXCITED for this episode is an understatement, I'm THRILLED! So let me give you my speculation for what could happen in it and how it’ll affect the future, because pieces are literally just falling into place in my brain and I just have to write this down.

The episode is called" Gabriel agreste" because in this episode Gabriel will create a (long time) Sentimonster for himself that'll take his place and cover for him in his civilian life while he himself gets completely swallowed by his Hawkmoth/ShadowMoth identity (which is a direct paralell to the fate Marinette just escaped by telling Alya her secret). He doesn't want to "waste" anymore unnecessary time by having to NOT be Hawkmoth, which then completely separates him from Adrien who very much was one of the last (if not THE LAST at this point) few strings that kept him grounded in his humanity.

The episode takes place right before the middle of the season and since it's season 4 we are talking about here its fair to assume that both Adrien and Gabriel are back at (at least) suspecting each other to be Chat Noir and Hawkmoth again at some point. Adrien is going to be even more rebellious after the status quo break and set up of "Lies" so him maybe (or maybe even confirmed already to Gabriel) to be Chat Noir could definitely be the factor that sets Gabriel over the edge, rips these two apart for good (as I foresaw in my analysis of "Jackady") and brings Gabriel to distance himself altogether while covering his own identity from his son by creating a Sentimonster (bc Adriens secret being discovered by his evil family is already forshadowed to hell and back, just like him ending up getting Homeschooled again this season, mark my words)

---

"Queen Banana" is supposed to take place right before "Gabriel Agreste" and we have a leak where it's seen that Adrien is now kinda taking on Nathalies role since she is (supposedly) still bed ridden.

Seriously, just humour me here and stay with me. This would mean that Adrien would get to see and interact with his father much more often and Gabriel wouldn't be able to ditch everything and turn into Hawkmoth as easily as he was able to with Nathalie.

A cover up Sentimonster was actually already kinda forshadowed in "Party Crasher"

by introducing HoloGabe with the intention of providing Gabriel with alibis and to attend meetings etc for him in the future so Gabriel can invest more time into being Hawkmoth. But a Hologramm is not suitable for every occasion, which is where the Sentimonster comes into play.

At first Adrien wouldn't notice much off about his father and the few things he notices Adrien actually doesnt mind. If SentiGabe is really supposed to replace Gabriel as... Well, Gabriel, that also means as a FATHER and my money is on SentiGabe being created to be a better father than the original. SentiGabe does everything Adrien wanted his father to do in s1-s3: Join Adrien at dinner time, spend more time with him, is in general in better of a mood and not such an unpleasant dick and so on and so on.

Easy to say, Adrien basically welcomes the good change he always wanted in his "Father" with open arms and chooses to ignore things that seem suspicious and the always remaining gut feeling of something just being... off. This will collide with the unveiling of more of the family (+ Emilie) mystery which will for Adrien all continue to point at Gabriel as Hawkmoth because of one event that is likely to happen in episode 4.

I'm currently writing on yet another post about this topic in particular, so I will link it HERE for elaboration once I post it, but in short, I think Rena Rouge and the Grimoire secrets Marinette shears with Alya could be the catalyst of Adrien suspecting his father to be Hawkmoth again.

Adriens memories of the time he went through the Grimoire himself in "Volpina" would be triggered again after seing the Grimoire page Rena (honestly, quite recklessly) brings along into battle and from then on things will slowly pile up until Gabriel deflects from himself with SentiGabe in "Gabriel Agreste" (just like he did in “The Collector”)

People WAY to easily forget how ready and serious Adrien was in "The Collector" when he actually concidered his father to be Hawkmoth.

Keep in mind that Ladybug was only able to tell Chat Noir the weakest reasons of her suspicion against Gabriel (while the Grimoire being Guardian property was NEVER found out by Adrien... til NOW) that being Gabriels mysterious personality and the butterfly logo of his brand.

These arguments are weak because they are ONLY actually suspicious in the specific context of Gabriel being Hawkmoth. Once you have proof against that they hardly hold any ground anymore, hence why both Adrien AND Marinette so easily brushed off these points after seeing Gabriel akumatized. I mean, excuse a designer for choosing a BUTTERFLY as his logo when his last name is literally the name of a butterfly type. The fuck kind of accusation is that??

So I hope you understand that when I say that, yes, these reasons DID trigger further memories/realizations for Adrien in that moment

It simply was only the tip of the iceberg.

The fact that Adrien not only gave Ladybug the fucking benefit of a doubt and heared her out about accusing his FATHER of being HAWKMOTH and took it THAT seriously and wanted to find out if his father truly IS Hawkmoth means that Adrien very much sees his father as capable of being Paris villain Nr 1. This... understanding and acceptance of Gabriels nature already had to be in Adrien much prior to "the collector" to set it off like this. And while normally Adrien chooses to turn a blind eye towards his fathers bad qualities in favor of seeing Gabriels redeeming (and even the rare somewhat GOOD) qualities, Adrien only does so because he thinks Gabriel hasn't crossed the line yet that makes his father undeserving of these loving conciderations. But Gabriel being Hawkmoth IS CROSSING that line for Adrien and he immediately sets aside his remaining/choosen love for his heavily flawed father and willingly sees Gabriel for what he is.

Adrien already did it once with only a few somewhat solid reasons and the Grimoire being kept secret from him altogether,

So he will do it again, just this time the proofs and developments are supposed to stay for good.

---

This development would not only be forshadowed by "the collector"

But also by the episode "Ladybug". There Mayura used a Sentimonster version of Ladybug against Chat Noir, using their love against him. What she didn't know though was that Ladybug actually isn't in love with her partner (yet) which ended up with Chat Noir being put in the situation of having to decide which Ladybug he believes to be real.

Does he believe and hold onto Sentibug who returns the love he so desperately seeks in life or does he let go of his hopeful wish and accept the heartbreaking reality of once again not receiving his love in return from yet another person he holds so dear?

In "Ladybug" Adrien couldn't make that crushing decision yet (and don't clown in the replies about this, not only was the situation vastly different it's also a cruel thing to ask of Adrien) but as we are used from Miraculous by now, that episode was only the set up for future events.

What Adrien couldn't let himself believe about Ladybug and Sentibug he will have to FORCE himself to accept about his Father and Hawkmoth. Same set-up of the Sentimonster symbolising Adriens desperate and hopeful WISH what his loved one were vs the crushing, heart wrenching reality of what his loved ones actually ARE. Just that letting go of his wish for Ladybugs love didnt seem "necessary enough" for the mission to succeed so he just couldn't MAKE himself give her up whereas accepting and seeing that his father is Hawkmoth is going to be one of the most crucial sacrifices of the show, changing the game forever. So as horrible, cruel and soul shattering as this is, putting an end to his fathers villainous reign for the sake of the greater good is a reason worthy enough to force himself through his pain.Which brings us once again back to “The collector” (which seriously forshadows almost everything I love that episode), because there is ONE major aspect that episodes sets up like crazy

And that is:

And thats where we are heading now.

This entire time Adrien wanted his Father to behave more fatherly, spend more time with him and improve his explosive behavior but he always got disappointed over and over again. So how heartbreaking would it be if over the course of the second half of the season THIS would be the very reason why Adrien gets behind Gabriels secret? Because SentiGabe behaved too fatherly for Adrien to truly buy it in his heart and when forced to decide what he actually believes his father to be - like the fatherly Sentimonster or the villainous Hawkmoth - Adrien has to and WILL recognize and accept his fathers true nature and turn against him, as it has been set up for a LONG time now.

This season shit’s about to go DOWN!

[yoooespinosa]

everything felt cold | d.m

➤ summary: The lines were so blurred, you were scared there was no ending. But when you found it, everything was cold.

➤ warnings: allusions of sex, unrequited love but not really, their both oblivious

➤ a/n: i’m sad today so y’all have to be sad w me. i already said i’m making a pt 2, pls don’t comment asking for one.

➤ word count: 1.6k

Masterlist | Taglist

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You were confused. Confused. Hurt. You were a lot of things right now, but your analyzing thoughts overpowered each one.

Because, surely you should have seen this coming or at least predicted that this predicament would not end well.

You were so blind, getting lost in the pleasure, that you ignored the consequences.

It should have never happened. You were both tipsy, both oozing of arrogant confidence.

And he kept looking at you. Looking at you, a way a friend shouldn’t look at another friend. His eyes hooded and smirks given, that held a promise of something more.

Then, later that night, you found that something more was hidden in his sheets.

It should have stopped there. One night could have easily been written off as a drunk mistake. But you kept finding yourself in the silk sheets of draco malfoy’s bed.

A friendship becoming easily defined as one with benefits.

Benefits that left you desperately searching for air. That left you drowning in desire.

It was all very simple at first. You fucked, until the tension was released— either in an empty classroom or each others dorm when they were empty— then you would both leave without a word.

But the longer the days went on, the blurrier the lines got.

He started staying after. Laying in your bed for a couple hours, making sure you were okay, cleaning you up. And when you found yourself in his bed, “Can you stay?”

And you did stay. You stayed until you fell asleep in his arms, waking up with jumbled feelings each time.

The longer time went on these benefits felt more like advantages. Some part of you felt as if you were on top of the world, knowing the fact that you got to know the sounds draco made.

You had got lost in him. The silkiness of his sheets, his wandering hands, his kisses filled with fervor and the sweet whispers exchanged in between.

You became so lost, that you didn’t even know when you started hiding your love for him behind the word ‘benefits’.

The lines becoming so blurry, you were desperately searching for the end point.

Because the longer you hid your feelings, the lonelier you got. And you tried to disregard it, not ending your hours spent with draco.

Ignored the loneliness taking over your life, until even the sex with draco could no longer help it. It only worsened it, making you realize just how far away from you, he really was.

Yet, you still did nothing to stop it.

No, he had done that himself.

You were walking to his dorm, with the determination to find out how exactly blurred these lines were. You were set on answers.

And all you got was a heartbreaking realization.

Lifting your hand to knock, the door swung open before you could.

Your head held high, lowering with the sight seen.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.” A girl laughed, moving past you. You didn’t even process who she was, too distracted.

It didn’t take a genius to know what had happened in that room. Not with her hair a mess, clothes disarray and those marks on her neck that were taunting you.

“Y/n?” Your attention turned to draco as he called for you. His voice casual, like this is something he does all the time. Maybe he does.

You felt sick at the sight of him. You had thought only you got the honor of seeing him become undone, seeing him look the opposite of a pristine malfoy. You were sorely mistaken.

Your eyes dragged down to his neck, filled with love bites. Your stomach twisted, it was such a possessive act, one you never did because of that fact.

“Sorry if i interrupted.” You finally filled the silence, voice void of emotion. You weren’t sorry. He didn’t seem to notice. If he did— you couldn’t tell.

“No worries,” His hand went to his hair, running through it. “we just finished.” He breathed a laugh, careless of the effect he had on you right now.

You forced yourself not to flinch at the pictures of draco with another girl in your head. Although you had little left to imagine after seeing the aftermath of them both.

“Did you need something?” He asked, leaning casually on the door frame. So fucking casual. You could see inside his dorm, his bed just in sight, it looked no different from the nights you laid upon it.

You look up at him, staring at him a couple seconds longer, not knowing what to say.

“No,” You shook your head, eyes set on his. “i don’t need anything from you anymore.”

And maybe your tone was bitter or harsh because he blinked, hurt and confusion clear on his face.

Good, you’ve become very familiar with both. It was only fair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“It means exactly what i said.” You answer, already turning around. “I don’t need you.”

You left, leaving him to figure it out on his own.

You let yourself drown in your awareness then, that somewhere between the nights where limbs were tangled in sheets and bodies were learned— benefits turned to pleasure— to a spurring feeling of dread due to the unknown of what would come next.

You were never good with coping. You tended to act out rashly when your feelings were hurt— your ego wounded.

Maybe that’s why you ended up pushed up against a wall of some random broom closet by terrence higgs.

You focused on the thrusting of his hips and his hot breath on your neck. Closing your eyes, letting the cold wall on your cheek, cool you down.

You never really cared for him— never paid him too much attention. But you needed a distraction from another blonde— one with hair colored of limestones.

And terrence was attractive enough. But that wasn’t the reason you chose him. No, terrence tended to kiss and tell and that’s exactly what you wanted.

You wanted draco to know that you didn’t need him. Or at least think.

To think that he was replaceable, even if you were currently comparing the boy inside you right now, to him.

You wanted him to feel at least half of the hurt you felt, when terrence would gloat about just how good you were for him.

A cold hand clamped down on your wrist, dragging you into an empty classroom, was what fed your satisfaction. A sign that terrence, indeed told.

He pushed you into the classroom, harsh enough to make you stumble. You scoff at him, unamused.

“You shouldn’t treat a lady like that.” Eyes narrowed at him, matching his. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

“You call yourself a lady?” He laughed, amusement replaced with venom. “With the way you’re making your way through every guy in hogwarts?”

Your jaw clenched, teeth gritting, hard enough you were scared a tooth might chip.

“Even if i was doing that, which i’m not,” Tone sharp, laced with venom, slytherin shining through you both. “it wouldn’t make me less of a lady.”

His mouth opened to say something back, an ignorant insult resting on his tongue, you cut him off.

“And what would you call yourself? Aren’t you doing the same thing?”

“I’m simply having fun.” He shrugged, although his shoulders were tense, long gone was the casual demeanor.

“Well then, i’m simply having fun too.” You mimic, shoulder bumping him on your way out.

His hand found your wrist once more, pulling you back into the cold classroom. “Terrence higgs?” Voice laced with disgust and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t hear me criticizing who you fuck.” You pull your arm from his hold, crossing them over your chest, you didn’t want him touching you. Everytime he did, you seemed to fall back in his hold, tugging against all your self restraints— just to feel his hands on you.

His eyebrows raised, surprised at the straightforwardness.

“It’s not the same.” He copies your stance, moving to lean against the door. “Terrence is-“

“Frankly, i didn’t ask nor care for your opinion.”

His jaw ticked, he never liked being interrupted, it made him feel belittled. And there was nothing draco hated more than appearing unimportant.

“You could do better.” He forced out, seeking to refrain from saying something that would have you walking out of this room and never returning.

“And who would you define as better?” you asked, exasperated.

“Me.” He stated, tone sounding like it was an obvious answer. You should have known he would say that.

“Yes, but i’ve already done that, haven’t i?” Your head tilting, goading him.

“You’re speaking in past tense, like you weren’t just in my bed yesterday.”

Your chest compacted in with the reminder. You loved him, but you swear you hated him right now.

“That’s because i wasn’t in your bed yesterday.” You tutted, masking your hurt. “Can’t even keep track of who goes in and out of your room.”

He shakes his head to himself. He really did forget. You weren’t sure if that made it hurt more. Or made everything better, knowing the fact that the other girl was not worth remembering.

“Doesn’t matter.” It did. “You’re speaking as if we’re over.”

“There was never anything there to be over with.” You forced out.

He flinched. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he seemed hurt by your words. That couldn’t be possible though.

“So,” He swallowed heavily, you watched his throat bob up and down with the motion. “all this time, it meant nothing to you?”

It meant everything to you. Everything and so much more.

“Nothing at all.” You say, but the harshness was gone, from both of you.

He nods, running his thumb over his lip.

And because you couldn’t help yourself, “And you, was it nothing to you?”

It meant everything to him. Everything and so much more.

He looks at you, eyes filled with so many emotions, you couldn’t possibly decipher them. “Nothing at all.”

You were both stubborn liars.

Slytherins were known to have self-preservation. Protecting yourself from harm and that’s exactly what you would do to each other. Harm, until there was nothing left of you both.

He left then, leaving you in the cold classroom.

Everything felt cold.

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[t0wnspersonb]

Better Off As Lovers (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Word Count: 5,076

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing

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salty4tsukki

said:

hello! i luv ur blog sm!! can i pls req a scenario (or hc if that’s easier) of tsukki and reader going from enemies to lovers? perhaps reader ended up doing tsukki a solid that saved his ass and that marked the turning point of their relationship? sfw+nsfw if that’s oki!! tysm in advanced :-)

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Here is some spice for you guys. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it lol. Tsukishima is such a fucking prick, I absolutely love it. @salty4tsukki​ I hope this was what you had wanted, also thank you so much for your support! Requests are closing tomorrow! I’m slowly but surely making my way through all of the requests and writing stuff up. I should probably be focusing on school but ya girl is avoiding responsibilities right now lmao. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend!😚😚😚

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“You’re literally the fucking worst.” you hissed; eyes narrowed into slits. “I bet hell gave you back to earth because you’re worse than Satan himself.”

 All you got in response was a raise of a blonde eyebrow and an ignorant smirk.

 “You want to get hit? Is that what you’re asking for?” You threatened, holding your fist up for emphasis.

 You had never been more upset; in all honesty you probably wouldn’t have been this annoyed about the situation if it was someone else. 

 But because it was him, you knew that it was intentional, it wasn’t an accident as everyone else was making it seem.

 “Now, now…” Koganegawa said, stepping between the two of you. “Tsukki didn’t know that was your dessert. It was an honest mistake.”

 “That’s not an honest mistake Kanji!” You screeched. “I literally told everyone how excited I was to finally get my hands on that famous strawberry shortcake from that bakery! I got the last slice and he went and ate it!” you pointed at the tall blonde accusingly; who’s smirk was growing wider and wider as you wailed about the unfairness of it all.

 “Can’t you just go get another one?” Kyoutani huffed, rolling his eyes from his spot on the floor.

 “They’re famous for a reason Kentarou! I had to get up super early to stand in line! And even then, the line was super long! I waited for hours! You think I’m going to do that again!?” You were all but hysterical now.

 You might have already been having a rough day though, and your missing cake was the cherry on top to it all.

 The soft huff of a laugh caused you to whirl around, your tiny fists coming up to hit Tsukishima on his chest repeatedly.

 “You’re the fucking worst!” you huffed out, frustrated tears springing to your eyes. The tall blonde was full on laughing at you now, much to your embarrassment and anger.

 You couldn’t lie, it was a tad bit irrational to get so upset over a missing slice of cake. But it was a long sucky day, you were looking forward to that delicious morsel of strawberry goodness after practice, and it wasn’t fucking there.

 “You’re so weak,” Tsukishima mused, easily grasping your hands in his large ones, preventing you from hitting him further.

 Despite his rude words, his grip was surprisingly gentle. 

 You still ripped your hands away from his in anger. 

 “Don’t touch me, you thief.” You growled, cradling your hands against your chest, eyes glaring into the tall male.

 “You’re so annoying. I already apologized.” Tsukishima said, stretching his arms above his head. 

 “An apology won’t bring back my cake!” You snapped, grabbing your stuff from the floor. “You’re the worst Tsukishima. Let’s go already, Kentarou.” You huffed.

 The said male rolled his eyes before saying goodbye to his teammates, following you out of the gym.

 You were still fuming quietly as you two walked home together.

 Funnily enough, you had developed a close friendship with the small male, which resulted in him walking you home since he lived close by. 

 “I hate him.” You whined, tugging at the bottom of Kyoutani’s team jacket.

 He swatted your hand away, causing you to whine again, reaching for him once more, he sighed in irritation but let you hold onto his jacket this time.

 “You guys just need to fuck already.” He said.

 You stopped walking; causing Kyoutani to be yanked back since you were holding onto his jacket. 

 “What the fuck Y/n?” He growled.

 “I would never in a million years have sex with someone like him.” You said, face twisting in disgust.

 Kyoutani had definitely lost his mind with that comment. Tsukishima was your enemy, your opposite half, the worst person that you have ever met, there was just no way.

 “Are you serious?” He asked deadpanned. “It’s so disgustingly obvious you two like each other.” 

 You rolled your eyes at him, releasing his jacket from your grasp as you guys continued walking. “You’re blind Kentarou, we hate each other.”

 “I think you’re the one who’s blind Y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow for morning practice.” he said waving goodbye to you as you entered your home.

 The rest of your night was plagued with thoughts of Tsukishima, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth despite the fact that you had brushed your teeth.

 There was no way that Tsukishima liked you, nor you him. You did find him incredibly attractive, but who wouldn’t? He was tall and muscular, incredibly intelligent, and he was a good volleyball player. 

 Of course, people would find him attractive, but his personality was anything but, to you at least.

 Your first ever interaction with him was entirely unpleasant, his mocking attitude and sarcastic comments left you with the worst impression of him, and it resulted in how you felt about him now.

 But then… What did Kyoutani mean about you being blind?

 You screamed loudly into your pillow.

 ****

 “You look terrible.” Tsukishima raised his eyebrow at you, taking in your disheveled form.

 “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. 

 Tsukishima was actually quiet for once, somehow you had missed the flash of concern that shot through his eyes.

 That didn’t go unnoticed by Kyoutani, who rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath how dense both of you were.

 Practice ran smoothly, there surprisingly wasn’t any sarcastic comments directed at you from Tsukishima. For the most part, he left you alone today, much to your relief.

 Now you were currently in one of the history classes you were a TA in. Between managing a volleyball team, and being a teaching assistant, it was no wonder you were always stressed out.

 Funnily enough, Tsukishima was one of the students in that class. 

 “We’re going to hand back your midterm essays now.” The professor announced. You grabbed the papers from your folder and started walking around the class handing them back to the nervous students.

 Your brows furrowed as you had realized that you only held three more papers in your hand, you hadn’t even given Tsukishima’s - oh. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked over at the tall male, he looked irritated, his eyes finding yours, there was a slight shake to his head.

 He had never turned in the essay. 

 That’s right, the essay was due around the same time that volleyball practices were incredibly strenuous in preparation for some important matches.

 But the midterm essay counted as a large portion of the grade, which meant that if Tsukishima received a zero, then he would fail the class, which meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball any -

 “I seemed to have made a mistake Professor.” You said. “I think I lost Tsukishima’s paper…”

 What were you doing?

 Shit, you could get in big trouble for this so why were you doing this?

 “It’s not like you to be scatterbrained like this Y/n.” the Professor shook his head. “I swear you take on too many tasks, between this and being a team manager… Tsukishima, do you mind turning in the paper again to Y/n? Let us say… by the end of the day?”

 “It’s no problem sir.” Tsukishima said quietly, eyes glancing over to you as you finished handing out the last of the essays.

 “I’m sorry Tsukishima, I hope you can forgive me.” You said sweetly, bowing at him slightly.

 What the fuck?

 What the actual fuck were you doing?

 Tsukishima was taken back by your tone and your show of respect towards him, that was new. 

 That was… shit was he blushing? He ignored the creeping heat in his face and the slightly quicker thump of his heart. He pushed his glasses up slightly. “It’s not a problem.” he said quietly.

 You nodded at him once more as you made your way back towards the front of the room, ignoring the rising blush in your own face and the racing of your own heart. You got lucky that the professor really took a liking to you as his TA, you could get away with murder when it came to this class.

 Tsukishima was incredibly lucky as well, he was the top student in this class, never missed any assignments, always participated in class, so of course the professor was going to be more lenient with him.

 No one would have ever guessed that he had never turned in his midterm, except you.

 That was something that you didn’t understand, why would you help him out? 

 It was because he was just part of your team, right? You were doing this because you wanted your team to succeed right? He was one of the best players you had, so if you lost him that would hurt the team… that was why, right?

 Or maybe… maybe Kyoutani was right.

 Maybe, just maybe, by chance you actually did harbor a small attraction to the tall blonde.

 ****

 The rest of the day was seemingly uneventful, and you found yourself wrapping up the evening volleyball practice.

 “Hey.” an all too familiar voice called out, a sudden shadow being cast over your small form as you began picking up the volleyballs on the floor.

 You glanced up to see Tsukishima looking down at you, curiosity clear in his gold eyes.

 “What is it?” You asked, ignoring the quickening of your heart. What was wrong with you?

 “Why did you do that?” he asked, beginning to pick up the balls.

 “What do you mean?” You sighed tiredly, you just wanted to go home. You had no energy left in your body to argue with the snarky male before you.

 “You knew that I didn’t turn in the paper… why did you lie to the professor like that?” He asked quietly.

 “Well…” your eyes slid over to him before looking down at the ball in your hands. “I knew that the professor would cut you some slack since you are one of his favorite students… plus… it would be bad if you got a zero, right? You would’ve failed the class…” You trailed off, your eyes glancing back up at him, taking notice to the small smirk that began to cover his lips.

 “- and we can’t afford to lose one of our players! You’re tall and stupid but you’re a decent player so that’s why I did it! I didn’t want to hurt the team just because you were being stupid and forgetful!” You said, voice annoyed as you all but slammed the volleyball into his arms. “Hurry up and put those away, I want to go home.” you huffed, stalking away.

 You hadn’t noticed the small smile that overtook his face as he watched you walk away.

 “Are you ready to go?” You asked once you guys had finished cleaning up, Kyoutani nodded, grabbing his bag from the floor.

 “Hold on.” a hand grabbed the back of your jacket, yanking you back into a warm and broad chest.

 You blinked up to see Tsukishima peering down at you, eyebrows raised. 

 You could feel your face burn at his proximity and as you stumbled away from him. 

 “W-What is it now?” You stuttered out.

 “Here. Professor said to give it to you by the end of the day. I just had to reprint it out.” he said, handing you his midterm.

 Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you actually did the assignment?”

 “It was already done, I just forgot to submit it.” he said, shrugging.

 “And I thought you were just lazy and didn’t do it at all.” You said in awe, eyes skimming through the papers.

 “Don’t put me in with the likes of you.” he snorted, eyes rolling, although there was an unseen fondness swimming within those golden orbs, unseen to you at least. It was entirely apparent to Kyoutani who seemed to have a larger scowl on his face.

 “Shut up stupid! I’m going to grade your paper harshly now!” you hissed, glaring at him.

 “You can try,” he drawled out. “But I did the assignment perfectly. I shouldn’t get anything less than an A.”

 “We’ll see.” you snapped.

 ****

 “Stupid Tsukishima. Does he have to be perfect at everything?” You grumbled to yourself as you finished grading his paper.

 He was right.

 He did the assignment perfectly.

 You shouldn’t have said anything to the professor, especially if he was going to be so smug about it.

 Why was he so infuriating? 

 You could see the flash of his smirk behind your lids when you blinked, it caused your heart to race, your fist to clench tightly together. You just wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of his stupid gorgeous face and -

 Damn it.

 It seemed like recently your thoughts were completely consumed by him. 

 “Speak of the devil.” You muttered to yourself when you noticed who was calling you.

 “What do you want?” You hissed.

 “Oh, good you are awake.” His rang smoothly through the speaker.

 “Yeah because I stayed up late to grade your midterm, so I didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend.” You huffed, sitting back in your chair.

 “Well what’s the verdict?” he asked smugly. 

 You could feel your nostrils flaring in anger at his tone. “You got an A. Which is surprising to me since you’re the biggest moron that I know.” 

 “I already told you not to lump into the same category as you.” 

 “I’m hanging up now.” you announced, your blood boiling at his comment.

 “Wait. Go open your door.” he demanded.

 You frowned. “Why would I do that?”

 “Just do it and hurry up.” you could all but see his eyes rolling.

 You huffed angrily, stalking over to your front door, and yanking it open to reveal the blonde male smirking at you.

 You could feel your brows furrow as you tried to register what was happening.

 Tsukishima, your enemy, was standing at the front of your home, cladded in his team jacket and joggers, and he was holding a bag.

 “Took you long enough.” he said, removing the phone from his ear and stepping past you into your home.

 He was already removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack near your front door, heading towards your kitchen.

 “Are you just going to stand there all night?” he called out, never looking back.

 That comment snapped you out of your confusion, you quietly closed the door, following after the blonde that was beginning to make tea like he was in his own home and not someone else's.

 “What are you doing?” You asked quietly, eyes following his every movement. 

 “Just be quiet and sit down.” he said simply, and for some reason… you actually listened.

 You wracked your brain for all the reasons as to why Tsukishima was in your home this late at night, using your kitchen.

 You snapped back to reality when he placed a plate and a mug in front of you. 

 Your eyebrows raised slowly, but you couldn’t help the twinkle in your eyes as you gazed at the treat before you.

 A slice of cake, but the strawberry shortcake from that bakery to be exact. The sweetness of the strawberries and cream, along with the earthy scent of the tea, caused a delicious warmth to swell up in your body.

 “How did you -”

 “It’s a thank you.” he cut you off, pulling up a chair across from you, tea and cake sitting in front of him. “For helping me out with the paper.”

 You couldn’t help the smile that began to stretch across your lips, Tsukishima seemed shy almost, embarrassed maybe? Whatever it was, it was a pleasant change from his usual scowl and smirk.

 “Did you wait long?” you asked quietly, carefully cutting into the cake. “They aren’t even open at this hour…”

 “No, the line wasn’t too bad, I went after practice finished.” he said, glancing over at you. It was a partial lie, Tsukishima did wait a long time, but he did go after practice had finished.

 “Why did you wait this long to come over then?” you asked, sighing in pleasure as you took a bite.

 There was a reason why this bakery was so famous for their strawberry shortcake, it was the best cake you had ever had.

 “I thought you might’ve been too busy in the evening, since you promised coach you would hand in those data forms tomorrow… and the in class activity we did today… you said you would grade tonight and get it back to us Monday…” he trailed off quietly, cutting into his slice.

 You blinked at him, the thumping in your heart increasing.

 Since when was he so observant with you?

 “Since always. You’ve just never noticed.” he said, gold eyes boring into your own.

 You could feel your face heating up, shit, did you really ponder that aloud?

 What was this feeling bubbling up in your gut? It burned and turned pleasantly the longer you stared at him.

 A sudden shyness washed over you as you broke eye contact, eyes casting back down to the cup of tea that was now resting between your hands.

 “O-Oh.” 

 It was silent again, it wasn’t awkward, but there was definitely something lingering heavily in the air.

 You just couldn’t place your finger on it.

 “You have something…” Tsukishima began to say, suddenly reaching over, his strong fingers gently grasped your chin, tilting it up, thumb beginning to brush at the corner of your lips.

 Without even thinking about it, your tongue darted out, swiping across his thumb, tasting the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of the cream that had lingered at the corner of your mouth.

 Tsukishima’s eyes darkened considerably; air rushing out of his nose as he exhaled deeply. His thumb rubbing against your lower lip. 

 Your eyes glazed over, lips parting slightly, inviting him entrance to your mouth. Tsukishima’s thumb pushed past your lips, resting on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, your tongue gently running along the pad of his thumb.

 You could feel the blood roaring in your ears, your stomach twisting in arousal.

 “Fuck.” he whispered, the sound of a chair being pushed back, his thumb leaving the wetness of your mouth.

 It all happened so fast, by the time you had opened your eyes Tsukishima was hauling you out of your chair and up on the counter. His large hand grasped your face firmly before slamming his lips against yours.

 You gasped, allowing his tongue to snake his way in, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

 You couldn’t help the moan that tore through your throat, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, fingers sliding into the blonde locks at the back of his head, your legs wrapping around his hips.

 Fuck, you couldn’t get enough of this. He was everywhere, warm and solid against your body; all you could smell was him, all you could taste was him and fuck did he taste good. You could still taste the sweetness of cream on his tongue, the tartness of the strawberries, and him.

 It was intoxicating.

 You were drowning in everything that was Tsukishima and fuck did you like it. The way his big hands gripped at your face, your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, it was too much.

 But it also wasn’t enough.

 “What are you - ahh - what are you doing?” you whimpered out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he trailed his hot lips against your throat, sucking and biting at every inch of it.

 “What do you think I’m doing you idiot?” he breathed against the shell of your ear. He grinded his hips against yours causing the loud moan to escape your lips, he was hard against you.

 “I don’t…” you whined softly as he grabbed your hips, pressing you tightly against his crotch, grinding against you sinfully. “I don’t understand… Tsukki… Kei.” you whined again, hips bucking up on their own, aching for more friction.

 Fuck you were so wet, so hot and bothered, you needed him to touch you more.

 “Fuck.” he hissed out, eyes squeezing tightly together as you whined out his name. “Fuck… you’re so infuriating. You still don’t get it do you?” he growled out, nipping at your lobe as his ragged breathing increased. 

 You couldn’t muster up any words, all that escaped your lips was a drawn-out moan as one of his hands reached up and massaged one of your breasts harshly. 

 “I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since the very beginning. But you never… fuck…” he hissed as you slipped a hand under his shirt, nails dragging against his smooth skin. You could feel the muscles of his stomach flexing beneath your touch, the pace of his hips increasing against yours.

 “You never noticed.” he finally growled out, reaching up and yanking your shirt off your body. “The only time you ever paid attention to me was when I made you mad, you simple minded woman. It’s so easy to get you riled up…” he kissed you harshly now, teeth knocking together before he bit into your lip harshly, causing your nails to dig further into his chest.

 “But then in class when you lied straight-faced to the professor… and then when you looked at me with that sweet expression, and those wide eyes… I couldn’t help but wonder what other kinds of faces you can make for me.” he finished quietly. His breathing was labored, and his lips were swollen but the intensity of his gaze caused your body to squirm.

 “What do you say?” he asked, his voice deep and rough, his grip on you was still tight, but his hips had stilled, he was pulled back slightly from you, allowing you space to breathe.

 “Please.” You whimpered out, tears springing up in your eyes, you were too riled up now, body too hot and aching for release.

 You needed him. You needed Tsukishima to touch you more, you needed him to whisper filth into your ear, you needed to feel his skin sliding against yours, and most of all, you needed him be buried deep inside of you.

 “I need to hear you say it Y/n.” He grasped your jaw, angling your face up to his as he stared down at you. “Say it.”

 You could feel your lower lip quivering, you were aching for it, aching for him. “Kei please! Just - just fuck me already!” you wailed. “What are you waiting for!? Just fuck m-” he yanked you off of the counter, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried you to your couch, dropping you down haphazardly before his hands were everywhere, ripping the clothes off your body until you were completely bare.

 He stared shamelessly at your nakedness, eyes running over every curve of your body. His hands rested on your bent needs, pulling them open and staring openly at your glistening cunt.

 “Don’t look.” you whimpered, moving one of your hands to cover yourself up. He easily knocked your hand away.

 “Don’t hide yourself from me.” he said as he moved to remove the rest of his clothing. 

 Tsukishima was beautiful, long, and lean, his muscular frame exposed to your greedy eyes as you scanned his body.

 Your lips trembled at the sight of his stiff member, leaking precum and standing painfully tall.

 He grasped his cock lazily, his hand easily sliding up and down his shaft as he gazed down at you. His other hand reached down to gather the obscene amount of wetness that was gathering between your legs.

 “You’re soaked,” he moaned, eyes flashing dangerously. “You want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to taste you?”

 You could feel your mouth run dry at his questions.

 Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly, his large hand coming down to swat at your thigh. You gasped the stinging sensation, your arousal spiking dramatically.

 “Answer me.” he demanded.

 Your lips trembled, eyes glazing over with unshed tears, you were so pent up, you needed something, anything that would provide you with some kind of release. 

 It was only for a moment, but there was a flash of gentleness, the hand that had swatted at your thigh rubbed at the skin tenderly. 

 “You’re so beautiful.” he said quietly, and then he was moving to situate himself between your legs, grasping at your thighs before his head ducked down and his hot tongue licked a strip up your soaked slit until it rested on your clit.

 You moaned loudly; your head being thrown back as your body trembled with pleasure.

 His tongue lapped lazily against you, flickering up and down against that swollen bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping further down, sliding into your entrance, tasting you completely before sliding back up.

 It didn’t take long for you to get close to your orgasm. Your body was taut, aching for release. It was too much almost; your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, you couldn’t tell if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer.

 All you knew was that he was giving you everything right now. Tsukishima pulled your clit into his mouth now, sucking hard, his front teeth gently brushing against it.

 Your legs were tense, thighs quacking as you approached your release, the quiet room was filled with your drawn out moans and pants, wet slurping noises escaping your lower half as Tsukishima all but devoured your cunt completely.

You came with a cry, body convulsing against the cushions of the couch, thighs trying to close together, squeezing tightly against Tsukishima’s head. You whimpered brokenly as you tried to wiggle yourself away from the blonde that was still sucking at your clit, but his grip was tight, refusing to let you go, forcing your over sensitive cunt to produce another orgasm.

 In the midst of it all, he yanked himself away, lining his stiff cock against your swollen entrance and then snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely.

 A loud cry tore through your lips, you were still in the middle of your orgasm when he entered, your slick gushing out around him and spilling onto the cushions below.

 “Are you gonna cum again?” he breathed watching you in awe as you struggled to adapt to his size.

 “Fuck you are.” he moaned, your tight walls fluttering around him as your third one ripped through your body. “I can’t believe you came again just from me entering you.” he breathed out, hands resting on your hips.

 Tsukishima gave you no time to adjust, his hips snapping forward harshly as he set a brutal pace.

 You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your fingers gripping at the couch, needing something, anything to hold on to.

 His cock rubbed against your walls perfectly, your body having no time to keep up with his movement, the stretch burned, the pleasure toe curling. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, keeping him closer.

 Suddenly your world shifted, Tsukishima hauled your body up, forcing you to sit on top of his thick member. You cried out loudly, this new position caused his cock to rub up inside of you at a new angle.

 He never stopped, his large hands gripped at your hips now, forcing you up and down as you rode him, his hips snapping up to meet the downwards roll of your hips.

 All you could do was grip at his broad shoulders weakly, struggling to keep up with his pace, struggling to adjust to the new depth that he reached within you.

 But you couldn’t. You could hardly breathe, you couldn’t think of anything except for Tsukishima and the pleasure he was giving you.

 “Look at you.” he groaned, eyes never leaving your face. “You make the sweetest faces when I’m inside of you.”

 “Kei…” You sobbed. “Please.”

 You weren’t sure what you were asking for at this point, the pleasure was mind numbing, the room was filled with sounds of your moans and his grunts, the wet squelching noises of your cunt as it was being stuffed over and over again was something that might’ve embarrassed you if you had the time to even think about it. 

 But you didn’t, all you could think about was unraveling again, all you could think about Tsukishima Kei. Your enemy, the most annoying man you had ever met, but he was also the most intelligent man you had ever met, the most beautiful man you had ever met, and now he was the only man that you ever wanted to receive pleasure from. 

 You came again with a loud sob, gushing around him, dripping onto his upper thighs, body trembling against his as you collapsed on top of his chest.

 He groaned your name loudly, thrusting up sharply into your cunt once more before spilling himself into your hot center. 

 It felt like time had stopped around you as you struggled to catch your breath. You weren’t sure how long it was that you guys stayed like this.

 But you have never been more tired, more comfortable in your entire life than right now.

 You could feel your eyes drooping down, your face buried into the crook of his neck, his long fingers gently tracing delicate patterns into the skin of your back.

 Tsukishima shifted, easily picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his member still buried deep inside of you. You vaguely remember answering his question about where the bathroom was and soon you found yourself perched up on the bathroom counter. 

 You could feel his cum slowly leaking out of your swollen cunt, trickling down your leg as he gently cleaned you up. You didn’t even remember how you ended up in your bed, but now you were curled up against the tall blonde, wrapped up in the security of his arms as he rubbed your back gently.

 “I still hate you Kei.” you mumbled against his chest, sighing softly before pressing your lips into his smooth skin.

 “I know.” he smirked against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Go to sleep. We’ll go and get breakfast tomorrow.”

 Okay maybe you didn’t hate him, but he was still infuriating to you. 

[momsopposed2theoccult]

It’s come to my attention that a good majority of people on this website have a really poor understanding of the conflict between Toph and Katara in “The Chase.” As somebody who loves both characters and their friendship, this irritates me. Without further ado, let’s unpack that in what is in theory supposed to be a meta but turned out more like a rant. 

“Katara was hostile towards Toph because the fact that she’s a gender non-conforming girl made Katara uncomfortable because Katara is obsessed with gender roles.”

Alright, so right off the bat this is just... completely idiotic and clearly fuelled by an agenda (and likely also a lot of projection). First of all, how is Katara of “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!” fame “obsessed with gender roles?” There’s an entire episode in Book One dedicated to Katara refusing to conform to societal norms for women in the Northern Water Tribe! Katara routinely calls Sokka out on his misogynistic bullshit! (Mind you I adore Sokka but he could be a little twerp at times and Katara was 100% right to challenge him on it) Katara is the feminist icon of ATLA! The fact that people act like Katara is some sort of conservative tradwife who loves gender roles instead of the outspoken feminist and political activist she is makes me incredibly angry.

Second of all, Katara was extremely kind and welcoming towards Toph at first. She gently encouraged her to join in with the group as they all set up camp together as opposed to setting up her own private camp. It’s only when Toph refuses to comply with her that Katara begins to get irritated. Mind you, Toph has her reasons for this, something I’ll get to in a minute, but from Katara’s perspective (key word here is perspective) she’s just being an annoying little stubborn, selfish, lazy, anti-social, entitled brat. Of course we the audience find out later that this isn’t the case at all (or at least in theory we should find out later but apparently some people on here skipped that part), but for all her many talents Katara is not a mind reader and has no way of knowing what’s going on inside Toph’s head, nor does she know her well enough yet to fully grasp the context behind why Toph acts the way she does. Katara is somebody who greatly values community and believes in teamwork, so Toph turning down her warm welcome in favour of “carrying her own weight” likely felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention that she’s already emotionally exhausted from having to constantly mother Aang and Sokka. If I were Katara, I likely would have reacted the same way. 

Oh and I agree that the “the stars look beautiful tonight, too bad you can’t see them, Toph” comment was out of line, but it doesn’t make her a horrible person. It makes her a 14 year old, and 14 year olds can be nasty, especially sleep deprived 14 year olds. Katara is otherwise a very kind and compassionate person. Other characters have said worse than that. Hell, Toph herself has said worse than that. That being said, it was a deeply hurtful comment and I do like to imagine that she apologized for it off-screen. 

“Toph is a lazy, entitled, and classist spoiled rich brat who just didn’t want to do chores and expected other people to wait on her.” 

This is another one that makes me roll my eyes and ask if they even watched the show. First of all, the presumption that Toph is a lazy or entitled person is just... laughable. I feel like people forget that Toph isn’t actually an earthbending prodigy in the way that Azula is a firebending prodigy (I could say more about Azula and how her belief that she was the unshakeable prodigal daughter ultimately caused her downfall and how by the end of the series Zuko is arguably a better firebender than her but this isn’t a meta about Azula and Zuko, now is it?). Nah. Toph was a sheltered kid who discovered she had the ability to earthbend, was told that she could never become great at it because she was blind, and in response said FUCK THAT and decided to work her ass off until she was not only great but the very greatest all thanks to her crazy, stupid, off-the-charts nerve, drive, grit, ambition, and desire to prove people wrong about her. Does that sound like a lazy person to you? Believe me when I say that you do not achieve that kind of skill level by sitting around on your ass and expecting to have things handed to you. And entitled? Don’t make me laugh. Toph hates having things handed to her, that’s one of her defining characteristics. 

As for the implication that she’s classist and enjoys basking in her family’s wealth and being waited on...... are you stupid? Did you even watch the show? Toph absolutely despises everything about her parents’ lifestyle. Growing up like that was traumatizing and restrictive for her. We’re talking about a girl who likes to play around in the mud for fuck’s sake. Toph does not care how much money you have. She never wanted any to begin with. She even says it herself; “I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. They gave me everything I could have wanted. But they never gave me what I actually needed - their love.” Not to mention that she easily could have continued to freeload off her parents wealth but instead chose to sneak out of the house and make her own money doing what she did best; disproving people’s assumptions about her earthbending. Oh and I’ve seen someone point this out before but WWE is generally considered a “low brow” activity that “proper” people frown upon and shouldn’t associate themselves with. Toph fucking loved it. I don’t know how seriously people take the comics, as they often miss the mark when it comes to characterization (Toph’s, however, was generally pretty accurate), but there’s a part in The Rift where Sokka asks her when she’s going to start charging people to learn metalbending and she gets all serious and flat out tells him that she will never do such a thing, because money doesn’t matter to her. Sharing her one true passion with the world is what matters to her. Oh and the part where she basically tells a bunch of rich and sleazy businessmen to fuck off and “stop thinking about money and start thinking about people’s lives” is just... *chef’s kiss* Sorry my thoughts here are so incoherent but this take is so piss poor and makes me so angry that I don’t even know where to start. As for “Toph enjoys being waited on” I just- *sigh* Toph has such a visceral and defensive reaction to any implication that she is unable to take care of herself. Like I said earlier, that’s one of her defining characteristics as well as the reason for her behaviour in “The Chase.” Where are people getting these takes?

You wanna know why Toph acted the way she did in The Chase? Well, first let’s recap her life up to this point. Toph was born the blind daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom. From day one her parents treated her like glass due to her disability. She was not allowed to leave her house unsupervised, and even then she was only permitted to walk around the gardens of her home. Every day of her life she was pitied, gaslit, babied, ignored, emotionally neglected, and made to feel ashamed of herself. She was not allowed to make any decisions for herself. She was not allowed to do anything for herself. She was not allowed to talk to other children. She had no friends. Other people didn’t even know she existed on account that her parents kept her locked up in her own home and didn’t tell anybody about her because they were so ashamed to have a blind daughter. Flash forward to “The Chase.” Toph begins to set up her own camp separate from the rest of the Gaang. Considering that she flat out was not socialized as a child and hadn’t even interacted with anybody her own age prior to a few days ago, this is understandable. So then Katara comes up to her and asks her why she isn’t setting up camp with the others as if she’s somehow incapable of taking care of herself (again, this is just what happened from her perspective) like she’s her mom or something and it just angers her because she thought she joined this group to get away from all that and she doesn’t understand how friends work because she’s never had one, all she knows is that apparently this girl thinks she isn’t capable of taking care of herself, and that infuriates her because it’s the exact same bullshit she thought she was running away from.

There’s a lot more I could say about this but I’m sick of typing so yeah in conclusion both of these takes are piss poor and I’m sick of having to read them. Stan Toph, Katara, and their friendship. 

[kopikokun]

Request 21: Haechan + “How did we get here?” (58) + “Are you high?’ (93) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

pairing; haechan x reader

genre; fluff, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers au

warnings; mentions of unprotected sex

The first thing that jolts you awake isn’t the numbing cold prickling your skin, nor is it the familiar sensation of having the duvet tugged away from your sound asleep body, no, it’s the abrupt animalistic snore in your ear.

You scramble into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard and legs tucked. Your heart lurches in your chest and you place your fist to it like that would do anything to calm its hammering. This paralysing fear only worsens the headache you’re currently experiencing. Cold sweat runs down your back as you face the person—or entity—that had just created that horrid sound.

With the strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and his smooth golden skin illuminated by the fresh morning sunlight pouring through the blinds, Donghyuck looks beautiful, no, ethereal, nestled away beneath the covers. Your cheeks begin to grow warm. It’s unfair really, how nice he looks, peacefully asleep (besides the trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, that is). You can’t believe a sound that unholy came from someone who looks like that.

Your eyes dart warily across the interior of the room. Muted grey walls surround you, pictures of varying sizes hanging precariously from nails. A shelf lines the wall to your right, the first and second shelf packed with books of different kinds. Most of them, you recognise, are ones you have too. The college listed them as mandatory and you remember grumbling to Donghyuck about the ridiculous cost of them. On the right of the bookshelf sits a table, crowded with notebooks and eraser shavings. A laptop is half open on the table and there’s a single sticker beside the mouse pad. A familiar photo of you and Donghyuck from high school rests against the wall and past you smiles at you. You’ve been here before. Even though Hyuck just moved in with his best friend Mark last week, you’d been here twice, not including now. Since you’ve known Donghyuck, which was in like kindergarten, his room had somewhat become yours and vice-versa. You turn to face your childhood friend beside you.

Your heart rate begins to accelerate. Why are you in the same bed as Donghyuck? And where the fuck are his clothes?

You vigorously shake him awake, unable to hide your fret. “Hyuck!” He mumbles something in his sleep. “Hyuck! Wake up!”

Donghyuck groans, eyes squinted as they’re immediately greeted by the blinding sunlight flooding the room. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow.

His eyelids are still droopy and you frown. “Are you high?” Some stoner friend of Hyuck’s had come over last night and you wouldn’t be surprised if Donghyuck had taken a hit.

He shakes his head slowly, hair sticking out in all possible directions. “No, I’m just- I think I'm just hungover.” You visibly notice the way the early morning grogginess leaves him and is replaced with a feeling of bewilderment. “Why are you in my bed?” His head swivels to scan the room, face contorted into one of confusion. “How did we get here?”

You disregard his concerns, because both of you being half-naked is far more concerning. You decide to leave that mystery for later. “Hyuck, why are you naked?”

As if he’s just realised the fact, Donghyuck shields his bare chest from your eyes with his arms. “I’m not completely naked! I’ve, uhh,” he lifts the covers, peeking beneath them, “I have some shorts on.” You roll your eyes. That doesn’t help in the slightest. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, trying to process what’s going on and what on Earth happened yesterday. All you can recall from last night is showing up to Donghyuck’s party, the both of you immediately scurrying to the alcohol and downing anything you could get your hands on. Everything after that has now become one of Mother Nature’s greatest mysteries.

You try to come up with a logical explanation with all the evidence presented to you. You’re in bed in only an oversized shirt and your underwear with Hyuck, and he’s half-naked. You two had gotten absolutely thrashed last night and had no semblance of an idea as to what had happened. Did you two… No, you hadn’t… But, maybe you two—

“Did we have sex last night?”

You flush a deep red. You didn’t expect Donghyuck to bring it up so casually. You bite the flesh of your inner cheek. “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

Donghyuck huffs. He flops back onto the bed, clasping his hands atop his toned stomach. You haven’t seen him so… exposed before. The last time you had was probably five years ago at your ex-boyfriend Jeno’s pool party. He’s definitely more well-built now, an ab-line beginning to reveal itself. Donghyuck’s cheeks seem to be adorning an adorable pink tint too. “Me neither.”

Seeing his nonchalance, your shoulders loosen considerably. You let your head fall back onto the headboard, stretching out your bare legs. The movement catches Donghyuck’s eye, but he swiftly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we did.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck nods curtly. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” you pick at your nails, “cool.”

Donghyuck glances to the bedside drawer and then to the rubbish bin. “Did we, uhm, did we at least use protection?”

“Well, shit, I hope we did,” you fiddle with the edges of Hyuck’s covers, “I mean I really like you but I wouldn’t let you raw me the first time we have sex.” You can feel his intent stare, his eyes boring into you, making your skin crawl with unease. “But I’m on the pill, so I should be fine.” Hyuck still hasn’t let up, probably because his childhood friend of fifteen hears just confessed to him. “Follow me to the store to get a morning-after pill, okay?”

Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh, yeah, totally.” You’re praying he doesn’t bring up what you just said.

“You like me?”

Damn.

“Well, yeah.” You tack your gaze onto the ground.

Donghyuck, being the cheeky little bastard he is, shoves his face in your line of sight. He grins, planting both of his palms on your cheeks, forcing you to face him. “Say it again.”

Your face grows crimson. You feign ignorance, averting eye-contact. “Say what again?”

“Don’t act dumb,” Hyuck says, smiling coyly. “Say it again and look at me while you do.”

Your stomach twists, a sudden wave of bashfulness crashing into you. “Hyuck…”

His grin grows wider, a hint of amusement present. “Come on, baby. I won’t ask you again.”

Your face is a deathly shade of red now and the tips of your ears are burning. “I like you.”

Despite the fact that you are experiencing such a nerve wracking ordeal, the half-naked boy before you laughs. He’s delighted. “Say it again.” At your pout he giggles. “Please?”

“I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you, Lee Donghyuck.” You furrow your brows. “Happy now?”

Donghyuck has to stop himself from kissing you right there and then. “Very.”

“Now say it back.”

Instead, he satisfies his urge by pecking your forehead. “I like you too.”

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Both you and Donghyuck’s gazes immediately snap towards the door where a disgruntled Mark is leaning against the frame. Mark’s usually all bright smiles but right now, he looks disgruntled. He’s probably crazy hungover.

“I’ve only brought you in here half-an-hour ago Hyuck, and you can’t even keep it in your pants for that long?”

Donghyuck tilts his head in obvious befuddlement. “What do you mean half-an-hour ago?”

Mark scoffs. “I carried you in here? Half-an-hour ago? Because you were passed out on the floor? And I’m a super nice best friend?”

“So, I’ve only been in here for half-an-hour?”

Mark groans. “Are you still drunk? Yeah, I just said.”

“But why are we half-naked?

“You don’t remember?” Mark runs a hair through his disheveled hair, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. “While we were cleaning up, you spilled a drink on yourself and puked on her, dude. Man, you must’ve been really drunk.”

“So then me and—”

“Anyway, can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to facetime my girlfriend.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Looking like that? You look like shit.”

Mark scowls. “Fuck off, asshole. I should’ve just left you on the floor, prick.”

As he storms away, Mark mutters a string of curses under his breath. You and Donghyuck sit in silence again, letting all that information which was unceremoniously relayed to you sink in.

“So, we didn’t fuck?”

“I guess not.”

Hyuck smiles slyly. “You want to right now?”

You reply by whacking him square in the face with a pillow as his laughter rings in your ears and Mark yells at you two to shut up.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 7th - Blindness

Gift fic for @sassydefendorflower

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Head Injury, slight descriptions of blood

---

Slade dodges under the swinging blow of Blüdhaven’s newest sewer monster; born from whatever chemicals a rat has gotten into near some chemist-based super-villain’s old hideout. Now, while it’s not everyday Slade goes out of his way to take down various monsters across the ‘Haven, this time… he feels a little obligated to.

Yes, he is the reigning champion of being Nightwing’s least favorite and most powerful villain, but unfortunately Nightwing is Slade’s favorite and most interesting opponent. He came to the ‘Haven to give the kid a head’s up that he has a mark in the city; a regular challenge he likes to set for the kid to try and stop him. However, when he didn’t find Nightwing along any of his normal routes, nor in his apartment, he turned to the news to see if the kid had left for Gotham or some other city without him noticing; preparing to postpone this mark until he was back in his patron city and away from other bats.

It was then he noticed the breaking news that a giant, sewage themed rat was wreaking havoc under Blüdhaven’s streets in the downtown areas, near a major subway platform. Nightwing was spotted going in, telling people to stay out, and he hasn’t been seen since.

Of course, Slade went to the fight, and it’s a good thing he did. When he got there, he found Nightwing limp in the creature’s tail, held inches from it’s long and jagged front teeth. Blood trailed down the side of his skull in a steady flow. Slade knew immediately he was unconscious.

He took out one of his pistols and shot at the rat, but the monster was so large and feral it hardly did anything when it went into its arm. It dropped Nightwing like a sack of flour onto the ground, snarling as it turned to it’s newest threat, drool dripping down it’s snout. Slade pulled out his swords and faced it head on.

The creature, while lacking any intelligence, was fast and powerful. Even Slade had trouble ducking under its tail that it used like a club and avoiding its powerful legs and jaw. While it’s disappointing to see Nightwing taken down by a creature as low as this, he can’t exactly blame the kid when it takes himself several minutes to finally get his sword through the thing’s tail. He cuts off the appendage, then while the monster screeches in agony, he pierces its throat.

It goes down twitching and gurgling, its blood bubbling down into the sewer's already questionable streams of water. He whips his swords out, getting off a majority of the wretched blood, then heads over to his unconscious person of interest.

Nightwing doesn’t move as he kneels down beside him, in fact he’s still in the rather undignified position he had been dropped in. Frowning, Slade moves Nightwing into a better position that won't strain his spine and smacks his face lightly to wake him up. He doesn’t even twitch, causing Slade to frown more. His head is still bleeding, which is worrisome. He grabs a tube of smelling-salts from his pouch—usually used to wake up people he’s previously knocked out to get some information out of them—and firmly places it under Nightwing’s nose. A solid few seconds pass before Nightwing’s eyes shoot open under his domino mask; his hands fly out to his face to stifle coughs and he rocks forward so he’s sitting instead of laying down.

Slade doesn’t try to make conversation quite yet, more worried about that head injury. He holds Nightwing by the jaw to tilt his head and get a better look, but Nightwing reacts like the touch was electrified. He smacks Slade’s arms away and jumps to his feet, stumbling back and holding out a single escrima. Slade doesn’t know where the other one went.

“Sit back down,” Slade growls, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nightwing flinches at the initial sound of his voice, his mouth dropping open in shock before lowering his single weapon slightly.

“Slade?” he asks, his voice slurred.

Slade resists sighing, and lifts his eyebrow. Who else would it be? It’s not that dark here, even with Slade’s heightened senses. Nightwing doesn’t relax completely though, as if waiting for an answer. Not for the first time that night, another spike of worry rises in his chest.

“Kid, sit down or I’ll make you sit down.”

Nightwing almost goes boneless after that, breathing a single ”thank fuck” before sinking to his ass and putting his head in his hands with a groan.

Now Slade does sigh, even rolling his eyes as he does so, as he once again approaches Nightwing and grabs onto his face to look at the wound. Nightwing hisses and flinches out of his grasp.

“Don’t,” he says, “I already know how bad it is.”

Slade hums, folding his arms across his chest. “How bad is it then?”

Nightwing remains quiet for a moment, biting his lip, perhaps internally fighting with himself on whether or not it’s a good idea to tell one of his biggest enemies about how injured he is. Eventually, Nightwing makes the smart choice and speaks anyway, knowing Slade will find no pleasure in ending him if he's already down.

“Head feels like a war-drum. Feel like ‘m gonna throw up. Voice slurred… ears ringing… I-” Nightwing hesitates. Then sighs. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” Slade repeats, kneeling down to once again take Nightwing’s face in his hands. Nightwing fights the grasp, but this time Slade holds strong and takes off the mask, revealing unfocused electric-blues.

“Nothing, it’s all black,” Nightwing whispers, a slight wobble in his voice that Slade is sure he’s trying to keep down.

He grabs a small flashlight from his tools and shines it in Nightwing’s eyes, frowning as there’s hardly any reaction in the pupils. He clicks off the light and releases Nightwing, thinking of options.

He’s sure the last thing the kid’ll want is to get dumped at the hospital, but Slade’s no medical expert, especially with something as fragile as a normal human’s brain.

He sighs, as only one option realistically reveals itself. The last thing Slade wants to do is risk Nightwing going home all on his own and possibly making this blindness permanent when there could be something that can be done to help him. Nightwing is a competent, talented young man, which is why he’s so intriguing to Slade—and while he has all the faith that Nightwing will find a way to fight even if his sight is forever gone, Slade also knows the loss of sense will be a major blow to the kid’s moral for months to come. He’s seen how far Nightwing can fall with helplessness and depression plaguing him, and honestly the thrill of fighting him leaves when his fire is replaced with a desperateness to prove to himself that he’s still worth something. He needs Nightwing to have a steady support system, and help for this injury.

Nightwing is going to hate him for a while after this, but Slade has no choice. He doesn’t fight against Nightwing to kill him, but because those fights are the only thing that brings a fun challenge. For how human Nightwing is, he fights like a beast, and Slade can’t lose that.

“Up,” he says while returning the kid’s mask; he grabs Nightwing by the arm and lifts him to his feet. Nightwing groans, but doesn’t fight too badly as Slade firmly wraps his arm around Slade’s shoulders. “Where is the best place to exit this place without being spotted?”

Nightwing, with the complexion of the inside of an avocado, talks him through on where to go. He looks one small fit of nausea away from throwing up all over Slade’s armor.

Luckily, he keeps it in his stomach—perhaps the discomfort in his body being something more desirable to deal with than a vomit covered Slade—and by the time they make it out of a small, boarded up and abandoned, exit to the subway line, Slade lets the kid take a break by the nearest dumpster. Nightwing, the poor thing, must have lost everything he’s eaten today in those fifteen minutes.

Now that he’s out below Blüdhaven’s night sky, he’s now the one in charge of leading the way. Nightwing stumbles along blindly—hah—never letting go of his weak grasp around Slade’s neck and shoulders.

Finally, they make it to where Slade has parked the car he had taken into the city. The windows are all tinted to near-illegal levels, but Slade still stuffs Nighting in the back-seats and hands him a bucket he had in the trunk that previously held a few hundred bullets from when he bought them in bulk.

“Throw up on the seats and I’m making you buy me a new car.”

“Bet this one was stolen anyway,” Nightwing mumbles, curled up in the backseats with the bucket touching his stomach like a flu-ridden child.

Slade scoffs and closes the door after reminding him to keep his head down but to stay awake. He takes off his Deathstroke mask, then the top bits of his armor, and shoves them in the truck. Then, after he gets in the driver's seat, they’re off.

Getting out of downtown Blüdhaven should be the hardest part of all of this; both for Slade’s navigation skills and for Nightwing’s gag-reflex. Eventually, however, they make it out of the twists and turns of downtown and eventually make it onto the main roads of the city—still crowded with cars coming too and from various ass-awful shifts of work. Nightwing remains quite agreeable in the backseats, responding that he’s awake every time Slade calls for a status report (about every five-ten minutes), and groaning at every turn no matter how slow Slade takes them.

However, that agreeableness quickly leaves the boy when Slade enters the on-ramp connecting to the north-south interstate.

Kid almost makes himself throw up by how quickly he scrambles to a sitting position; ignoring Slade's commands to lay back down.

“Turn around,” Nightwing growls. And it’s a strong growl too, reminds Slade of a chihuahua. Shaking and all.

“You’re currently blind, you have no idea where-”

“I know the roads of my city, Slade. And you’re leaving it.”

Slade sighs and merges into traffic, then uses one hand to shove Nightwing back town onto the seats. “Keep down, a cop will see you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Slade remains silent.

“Tell me it’s a secret mansion somewhere and you have your own personal doctor that can help. Or you know a guy that happens to be down south. Or-”

“I’m taking you to Gotham,” Slade says, ripping off the band-aid.

Nightwing looks all sorts of emotions in the span of a few seconds. The one he settles on, however, is anger.

“No.”

“Batman gets injured all the time,” Slade begins to explain, but Nightwing looks frantic now.

“No, don’t take me back- I’ve worked so hard to get him to see that I can do things without him- and he has a new kid now and-”

“Suck it up,” Slade growls. “Deal with it. I’m not like you, kid. I don’t know how to take care of a normal human, and I definitely don’t know anyone who can because I have no need to. What you need is a doctor that can treat you off the record, who knows about your nightlife. Batman has that, doesn’t he.”

It’s not a question, but Nightwing’s silence is still an answer.

“Whatever your old man thinks of you for coming back injured doesn’t matter in the end. Nor does the new kid. What you should worry more about is what I think of you after this. You’re not fighting Batman, you’re fighting me.”

“What if he doesn’t let me fight after this?” Nightwing… Dick whispers as he finally lays back down on the seats. He’s taken his mask off and is rubbing his eyes, perhaps quelling tears or a headache. Perhaps both. “What if my sight doesn’t come back? What if he retires me?”

Slade remains silent for a second, then answers as firmly as he can. “I’ve known plenty of formidable enemies who are missing a sense. You’ll find a way to get back up, and if he doesn’t let you then I’ll just have to break in, kidnap you, and train you myself.”

That startles a laugh out of Dick. “I thought you were no longer trying to get me to be your apprentice.”

Slade shrugs, allowing a smile on his lips, selfishly comforted that Dick couldn’t see it. “You have a lot of potential, kid, I’d rather you use it against me than not at all. I’ll train you and release you like the bird you are, and we can get back to the same ol’ dance we have.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah… okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

-o-o-o-o-

Slade parks the car in an old neighborhood in Gotham that has a considerable drop in crime compared to the rest of the city. All things considered. Though, the sun is beginning to rise and Slade’s positive the Bat knew he was in his city the second he drove into it. Dick knows this too, as he’s telling Slade to hurry up and get out of here despite the boy still looking green around the gills. Slade grabs his mask and armor, then turns to the stolen car he’s about to abandon and opens the back door near Dick’s face.

Suddenly, and rather embarrassingly, he doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Dick is a freaky empath sometimes and gives an exhausted smile.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll get through this.”

“Good,” Slade replies. “I won't let you quit.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Then Slade closes the door and takes off quickly, only pausing on a distant roof to watch a large black figure and a smaller red-and-yellow clad child approach the car and catch sight of the injured bird inside.

From there, Slade turns and leaves, not looking back.

He’ll see Nightwing on the battlefield again. No matter what, Slade will make sure of it.

[secondhand-trash]

yaku san as The sugar daddy please, nsfw nafw nsfw lemme fuck that

A/N: I’m here after I lose my mind over the new chapter because oh god OH GOD he is THE daddy I’m- I just- You’ll know once you read the thing because I’m not ok...

Warning: not exactly manga spoilers but kinda?, sugar baby-sugar daddy dynamics, nsfw

Word count: 1535

Yaku knew he wanted you the moment your eyes met

he’s the handsome young athlete who frequents the family type restaurant you worked at and you’re the part-time worker who begged for more shifts because you just needed the salary to pay for your tuition 

when you shyly looked away after noticing that he had been staring at you, the clear desire to steal another glance obvious as you deliberately turned your back to him, he was hooked

he made a move almost immediately, leaving his card together with a heavy tip when you gave him the check

the card was a formal one but on the back, you see the words that made your heart raced as you stared at the black ink at night, your phone in hand as you shakily punched in those digits

Call me?

he responded quickly after you sent the initial message and making it clear that he was interested in you, asked you if you would like to meet him up for dinner that weekend

you felt small when he showed up at your door in a suit that was probably worth your entire month of salary, feeling ridiculously under-dressed even though you already pulled out your nicest outfit

you shivered when he took your hand, pressing a soft kiss at the back and whispered with a smile, “I know you’ll blow me away, but my my do you look beautiful tonight...”

the place he took you was grand, floor-length windows by the table at a secluded corner of the restaurant and the most prestige part of the city below your feet

it was when he left the table temporarily that you had a moment to look at your surroundings to see just how lavish everything was 

he already had everything planned before you even walked through the doors so you had no number to look at, but you didn’t need the figures to know that if it wasn’t for him, you would likely never dine at a place like this ever in your life

the opulence was blinding but most importantly, he was so lovely. Even though it is clear that there is a difference in status between the two of you, he never once made you uncomfortable or came off as arrogant

and the feeling that someone like him wanted you made you bolder and bolder, throwing in a few flirtatious remarks of your own 

you did not move away when he put his hand on yours, index finger trailing down your wrist 

Blinking your eyes to adjust to the light, you had a sudden moment of panic when you sat up to see the unfamiliar hotel room that you were in.

Until the aftermath of your date slowly reappeared in your head and the feeling of the silky bedding rubbing against your bare legs was starting to make your skin heat up.

His lips were on you the moment the door locked, his hand rough against your waist as he tugged and clawed at the dress you were wearing. The smell of his cologne invaded your sense as he trailed wet kisses down your neck, your hand clawing at his back for leverage as your head went hazy at his rampant assault. 

This was all overwhelming. His hand fondling your tits as he yanked down the collar of your dress roughly, the way he didn’t seem to mind fucking you against the door if you hadn’t pulled him towards the couch in the center of the room in between moans, the fact that you had met this man for fewer times than you could count with one hand but yet all you could do was arched your back off to let him slide your panties off as he pushed your legs apart.

Your hands were fumbling to just get his belt off while his hands wander all over your naked body. You whined at the feeling of the metal bands that clad his hand, licking your lips at the thought of them being inside of you but for now, you were simply taken over by the urge for him to just mess you up.

Holding your knees, he hooked your legs around his waist as he lifted your lower body off the couch. Your hand gripped at the couch as he nudged his leaking tip against your sopping folds, your nails digging into the soft velvet of the cushion as he hilted in you. His name was the only thing you could get ahold up as he set a feverish pace, the groans and grunts that fell from his lips making you clench.

Your face was getting hotter and hotter the more you recalled the bits and pieces of last night. God, you could barely even look at the room you were in without thinking of something that you had done on there. He proceeded to try and move your tangled bodies to the bed after you barely regained your breath from the round on the couch, only to get distracted by your pants at his ear midway and slammed you against the window that made up one wall of the room with your chest pressed up against the glass.

Oh god, he fucked you against the window. You sighed into your palms, trying to brush away the visuals of your wrists being held up above your head as he rutted against you. 

You let out a soft gasp when you felt something tickling the side of your waist. Yaku pulled you closer to him lazily, peppering soft kisses on your stomach as he chuckled at how you tensed up.

“Morning, princess.”

“Morning...” you said, brushing away the tuft of hair that fell on his face with the tip of your finger as he sat up to kiss you square on the lips. The crisp white blanket fell off of him as he sat up, showing the red marks on his chest that was faded but still very much so visible. 

Ah, those were from when you two actually got to the bed and you straddled his lap...

You smiled as you leaned on his shoulder, burying your face at the crook of his neck as his hand slid to the small of your back. It had been a while since you last had such good sleep, the mattresses this hotel uses must be of very good quality.

In fact, you could not even recall the last time you woke up without an alarm- wait...

“What time is it?” 

Yaku furrowed his eyebrows when you suddenly flinched away, colour leaving your face when turned the clock on the side table towards you.

“Fuck, I’m late for work.” you groaned, “I’m gonna get into so much trouble for this. God, I’m so sorry-”

Your leg was already dangling off the mattress when you felt a strong grip at your wrist, stopping you from leaping off the bed.

“Do you like that job?”

You paused before answering with a dry chuckle, “I need that job.”

“Quit the job, I’ll take care of you.”

“What?” you muttered. Slowly turning around to look at him, you froze in the realisation that he was absolutely serious.

“I can’t-”

“Hey,” his voice was gentle as he put your hand to cradle his face, turning to his side to speak against your pulse point, “I really like you and I think this can work. Let me help, hm?”

You sucked in a deep breath, unable to ignore how tempting the offer was and the way goosebumps were already forming on your skin at his hot breath on your inner wrist.

“Thank you.” 

He beamed, letting go of your hand to hold your shoulder instead. Your breath hitched when he kissed the dip of your collarbone, your arms hooking around his neck immediately.

“No need,” he said with a wink, and you knew you were not leaving the room any time sooner when he trailed down.

he wasn’t lying when he said he will take care of you

not only are your bills handled, he is basically spoiling you at any opportunity that presented itself

nice clothes? fancy lingerie? flying with him whenever he is traveling? you name it

so smitten by the sight of you beneath him in all the lavish things that he bought for you

gold necklace on your neck and nothing else?

red bottom heels and naked from the heel up?

he spoils you but he insists that you’re the one who treats him too well

shows you off at galas and events where you hang off his arm

it’s an arrangement of sorts, sure, but above all he just liked having you around

and all the luxuries aside, you just couldn’t imagine not falling asleep in his arms anymore

you have spent countless nights with him at the fanciest places around the world but the hotel room that you first went to remains a favourite and whenever there’s a special occasion, he books the exact same room that night for celebratory purposes

makes sure to fuck you against the window at least once every time 

he also proposed in the exact same room, some time down the line

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Two

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 2 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Warnings in this chapter: brief reference/hint to past sexual assault. 

Word Count: 7,500+

A/N: Thank you so much for your excitement about this series! I always smile when I read your comments. Sorry for such a long chapter, but it’s only ten parts and I gotta fit all somewhere lol

~

Unknown Location, 2015, 10:46pm

     The tightness of the rope wrapped around your wrists was excruciating, each movement causing it to rub against the already damaged skin, leaving more angry, red marks. You whipped your head back and forth, anger and fear coursing through your veins as you stared your father down. You watched as he carefully maneuvered his way around the room, every back straightening as he walked past them, every gun cocked and pointed right at you. Your nose twitched up as he walked closer, inspecting the ropes tying your feet to the chair and so on. You accumulated all the spit you could and aimed it for his face, pride washing over you as it hit him perfectly. But as quickly as that pride built, it shattered, a stinging sensation on your cheek now overpowering any other sense. 

“You cost me ten million.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to let it slip as you did not want another beating. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same!”

“Don’t tell me what I would have done!”

You flinched inwardly, your face still blushing with growing madness. If only you could loosen these bonds… 

“You will know to not mess up again.”

And as your father left the room, the men lined up against the wall finally let their shoulders fall forward, their once blank faces now donning sadistic smiles.

The Compound, 2018, 2:07am 

You sat up from your mound of pillows, kicking them to the side as well as the heavy blanket. Your ears rang impossibly loud, and it wasn’t until your feet touched your bedroom floor that you could hear yourself screaming. Your body was drenched in sweat, sliding easily on your wood floor as you kicked to escape the blanket. 

Sharp knocks against your door startled you, sudden ‘please, don’t!’’s escaping your mouth. Hyperventilating was always tiring, you thought, and the air was now super cold as you sucked it into your lungs.

“Doll, please? I’m coming in.”

The light from the hallway blinded you so you lifted your arm up as a temporary shield. 

“No, no! I’m good… I didn’t lose it. Please, trust me!”

“Y/N…”

You lowered your arm and stared at your nighttime intruder, instincts kicking in upon settling your teary eyes on him and causing you to groan in displeasure. 

“Don’t look at me.”

“Y/N.”

“I said don’t look at me.”

Steve sighed in defeat and walked back to your door. You thought he was going to simply leave you be, letting you ride out this panic attack alone like all the others. But he shut the door and made his way over to your couch on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and leaning his sleepy head in his right hand. It had been six months since the world literally fell apart, an unknown feeling of terror that simply sat at the pit of stomachs eating away at whatever sanity its host still had, plaguing the world. Tiredness was second nature, never actually reducing its power no matter how much sleep one got. But leaving you here to suffer each individual thread being pulled from your remaining sanity, alone, wasn’t an option. 

“Why are you staying?”

“I have nightmares, too. You aren’t that special.”

You rolled your eyes, hands now massaging your aching chest. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Y/N, you were screaming for help.”

“I scream for a lot of things.”

You figured Steve would succumb to his growing annoyance, but he stayed patient. 

“Was it about…?”

You sighed and pulled yourself up to your feet, knees wobbly and thighs alerting you of the droplets of sweat that beaded down your legs. “No. I don’t dream about the snap.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You let out a rather angry sigh. You were now rubbing your eyes, cleaning them of the accumulation of hard mucus. “I seriously don’t want to talk about this particular incident.”

Steve huffed through his nose and you were ready to pounce on him to tear that beard from his face, but stopped when you saw his small smile and genuine empathy in his eyes. “Okay, I won’t push you.”

You just stared at him, eyes wide and confused. But you nodded slowly, eyes now diverting to the blanket below you. 

“I’m just so fucking happy the snap took my father.”

Steve’s lifted his head quickly by your abrupt confession, eyebrows furrowed and lips frozen, as if wrapped around a lost word he couldn’t verbally address. He understood, but it shocked him nonetheless.

He ignored it, or at least chose to avoid an immediate discussion about it, and stood from your couch. 

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wanted to throw him out. Him being across the room and near the wall was starting to trigger more flashbacks. 

It’s Steve. It’s just Steve.

“Can you stay?”

Steve stumbled slightly in his step, clearly uncomfortable with your request. But he was a good man and when one of his teammates needed help, he would do whatever he could. And you were one of the only teammates he had left. 

“Okay,” he said. But as he made his way back to the couch and away from you, sudden racks of itchiness stretched from your wrists to the middle of your chest. You stumbled from the bed, arms extended outward as if you were still shielding yourself from some incoming attack. 

“No, no! Just…”

Steve watched your movements carefully, trying to discern between fear or awkwardness. He sighed and let you see his hands, turning them over in the air.

“It’s me. Tell me where you want me.”

You were in control. Just tell him where you want him. 

“I’ll lay here,” you started, getting back into the right side of the bed and pulling the covers up to your hips. “You there, but upside down.”

Steve chuckled and followed your commands. You watched him walk, feeling the dip of your mattress as his heavy body lay down. You were grateful when his sock-covered feet touched your left side pillow, his chuckles gaining volume as he tried to get comfortable. 

“Do I at least get a blanket?”

“Oh!” you leapt from the bed and to the closet.  He listened to your soft pitter-patter as you shuffled across the cold floor, shutting his eyes to relish in the childish melody. You passed Steve two heavy blankets, mindful of the cold weather outside. Then you climbed back into bed, passing Steve a few pillows, and snuggling back into your own. 

A few shifts of the blankets made you open your eyes again. Steve was not as stiff as you expected him to be - almost like he wanted to help you - and you mentally slapped yourself remembering that he would do this for Bucky. 

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny grin on your face. “Thank you.”

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, thankful that he could still help others even when he himself was falling apart. “You’re welcome.”

Present Day, 2025, 9:45am

     If anyone were to truly study Steve, they would see he was starting to act his age. He enjoyed fluffy socks, tea instead of coffee, sketching in the secluded garden of the new compound - anything a man pushing a hundred would truly enjoy. And he found himself shaving less, watching every new movie released regardless of genre, and eating much more oatmeal than usual. He remembers how whenever Bucky had saved up just enough for them to splurge on items they never usually indulged in, oatmeal would always be his go to. It was still a common ‘peasant’ meal for the two young bachelors, but Bucky would heat it up with fresh milk he had bought that morning, added the fresh strawberries and dates that were in season, and sprinkled brown sugar - damn, Steve loved brown sugar - on top. Bucky would place the bowl in front of Steve, ignoring Steve’s constant blabbering about ‘Buck, we can’t afford this’, or ‘you don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on me, you jerk’. But he would quickly shut up once Bucky’s perfected oatmeal recipe landed on his eager tongue and filled his happy stomach. Regardless of those past memories of young roommates searching for loose change in their couch and more recent ones of two reunited best friends sharing looks of awe whenever they saw how much milk and brown sugar now costs, Steve was certain the old man in him was just barely emerging. 

He definitely didn’t skip the irritated attitude phase every old man seemed to develop as the years passed, his resting facial expressions and movements starting to match those of his best friend. Grumpy, tired all the time regardless of the serum, and asking each other instead of the modern people around them how to work their phones. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, or go on a jog, or watch a movie - anything - rather than having to give a briefing about something he hadn’t had to think about for seven years. And although he had the chance to use the stones before and didn’t, Steve couldn’t quite help wishing that he was transported back to his and Bucky’s old and crumbling apartment, fighting over that one knitted blanket Bucky had bought for the both of them with his last dime.

You seemed happier with your whole family situation after the snap, but he never wanted to ask. Whether you were putting on a brave face for him, he was rid of it momentarily only to be pushed into the chaos all over again. But this time was different because you were finally going to end it all. Finish what you had started all those years ago - then maybe Steve could take that afternoon nap he wanted.     

“Talk to me. How are we doing this?”

Fury pulled up a screen with all the photos and biographies, essentially a powerpoint prepared by both you and Steve. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, sir. But I know my family and their schemes better than anyone,” you said. Fury knew this was true and the plan would ultimately be mapped out by you. His input was always welcome, but you knew the small details - their personalities, their weaknesses, their strengths, even the way they took their coffee. You even knew which of them sampled their product before sending it off on a cross-country road trip. 

Steve stood beside the monitor, using this finger to change the screen. “So, we’re looking for our physical proof. A paper trail detailing land and their product, contacts, storage units, aliases - the works.”

You nodded at Fury and your teammates. “Exactly. The hardest things to obtain will most definitely be evidence about my father’s involvement. Proof he gave the orders and profited from them.”

“Your word isn’t enough?” Sam asked.

“No, not unless I throw myself under the bus as well. It’s his word against mine unless I can prove these things were all his doing,” you responded, taking a sip from your water. 

The only other people in the briefing room besides Steve and Fury were Sam, Bucky and Scott. Everyone else would get a brief overview later on this week, but these three were specifically chosen by Fury to help aid you in the actual physical fight. 

“The wedding is the perfect distraction,” Scott spoke. “Almost like this was made for a heist.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Not a heist.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugged, gaining a grin from you across the table. He smiled at your reaction and sent you a wink. 

“Agent, we have to go over the basics and any new information you can provide,” Fury encouraged.

You motioned toward Steve to bring up the photos on the monitor, “Let’s start with the basics.”

Steve took over for the first portion of your presentation. You didn’t mind - in fact, the more control he had in this would certainly help ease his mind and you definitely did not want a stressed out Steve Rogers accompanying you on a twelve hour road trip. 

“Ernesto Vega, father of Y/N Y/L/N, born 1950 in Guadalajara, Mexico, but because of the snap, the 80 year old is still only 75.”

“Damn, your father is old!”

You laughed at Sam’s outburst, “Yup, and I got like ten half-siblings.”

Sam sat up straighter, “No way?”

“Way.”

“Daniel Seda,” Steve continued, his voice louder. “Vega’s second in command, born 1970, currently 55 years old. Took over as top commander after the snap, and according to Y/N he didn’t take it well when everyone was brought back.”

“Hmm, threatened to put another bullet in me,” you teased, pointing at your stomach where the scar underneath your shirt had already long healed. You could have sworn you heard Steve’s breath hitch, but even if it did, he had quickly covered it by swiping the monitor. 

“But her father saw this as proof of loyalty. Because no matter how much he knows Y/N hates him, she still brought him back.”

You lifted your shoulders, arms in the air as if imitating the nonverbal form of ‘oh, well!’, and your thin smile caused your cheeks to pop out comically.

“So, Seda hates you?” Bucky asked, chuckles still vibrating in his chest from your previous childish movements.

You brushed your hand through the air, “Not the first man to hate me and not the last.”

Steve snickered. You could say that again.

“The wedding will be held at Vega’s personal and private ten-acre ranch in Northern California-”

“A lovely fall wedding!”

Steve bit his tongue, eyes never leaving the monitor. “Sure… and it’s perfect. He’s wanted and he’s going to be on U.S soil.”

You stood from your chair and grabbed the electronic marker from the desk. You circled the main points of entry plus the directions of secret exits hoping to emphasize the ‘private’ part of Steve’s statement. “And since it’s his most private getaway and no one would suspect he would hide important shit on said U.S soil, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure our proof is there.”

You pulled up the blueprints and marked a giant ‘X’ on the farthest corner room in the west end. It was your father’s office. 

“Ninety-eight?” Sam asked, reviewing the printed blueprints himself.

You twirled the marker between your fingers, “My dad is clever. My other two percent is telling me there’s no evidence at all.”

Scott clutched his chest in relief, “Okay, at least one outweighs the other.”

You shared another laugh with the ‘regular-sized man’.

Steve continued listing the basics, all while Fury sat toward the edge of the long table reviewing the screen. “The other two big names in the drug game are Omar Ramirez and Marcus White. Ramirez runs most things from Mexico City to San Antonio, Texas and he’s probably the least evil of them all. White runs Europe, specifically Germany and England.”

You interjected, “Ramirez focuses on the product. He orders his men to focus on the business instead of the outside world - meaning, no unnecessary kills, no violence toward women and children, no killing cops or citizens. Just producing and transporting.”

Almost forgetting he was there, Fury’s voice somewhat startled you. “Vega has lost men to Ramirez, men who wanted a change in scenery.”

You nodded in confirmation, “They aren’t necessarily enemies but they’re no besties either.”

Sam rolled the blueprints back up and handed them to Bucky. “So, we’re taking them all down?”

“The big three. Plus Seda,” Steve declared, finally taking his first sip of water in what felt like forever. If he didn’t want anyone to know he was nervous about this mission, he was for sure failing. 

You hummed, “Vega and Seda are also the only ones who know of Steve’s involvement.”

“How’d that happen?” Bucky asked.

“Because Steve only ‘transports’ my father’s product. Not the others. Steve’s role is essentially to green light the passages and is my main pull,” you clarified. 

It was true - Steve didn’t do or touch anything. And you thought this best considering he was America’s golden boy - you couldn’t possibly bear real involvement from him. This wasn’t his world and never should have been but it was yours. 

You dealt with people directly. You took out the snitches. You handled the product during inspections. You did it all - and not because you thought Steve was some fragile soul who couldn’t achieve the same results - but because you brought him into that mess during a time in his life when he definitely didn’t need it.

“But how did it happen?”

You shrugged, hoping your answer would suffice for the rest of the group as it never does for Steve. “When I first started out as a field agent, my father didn’t trust I was doing it for him. The more I promoted, the more suspicious he got. It wasn’t until we exposed SHIELD as half-HYDRA that he was done with me.”

Fury interjected once again, “So, Y/L/N here had to pull rank out of her ass.”

You snorted, “Thanks, Fury. That sounded nice.”

“I told them that I had the literal symbol of America by my side. That defeating HYDRA was only to get his friend back, not to save the world. Plus, I told them that HYDRA was targeting all of them. And once I could get proof - a forged recording made by Fury before he went into hiding - well, it was like the greatest example of submission.”

“Why didn’t you say Tony?” 

That certainly was a question Steve always had and wanted answered. God, he really hoped you had said Tony.

“Because I got the literal symbol of America as a partner-in-crime. My father almost told me he loved me... almost.”

You sat back down in your chair, a tiny puff of air escaping your lips. “And that made Seda furious. I may hate my father, but Seda is the main threat to blowing this whole operation.”

If anything, you wanted your father deader than dirt, silenced by the one child he always regretted bringing into the world. He had tortured you in more ways than you thought possible. 

      “Now, I thought my dad was bad.”

You fell back onto the couch before retrieving your cup of coffee you had placed on the table. Nebula gave you a tiny chuckle in return. 

 “Yes, mine has eradicated half the universe. I win ‘worst father’.”

You sipped your coffee, trying and failing to block out the banter between Rocket and Tony as they discussed the location of the space stone. “You know, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Nebula chewed her dinner slowly, listening to you ramble on about anything that popped into your mind. She knew this was your coping mechanism - to just keep talking until someone shut you up. But she enjoyed it, really, because you spoke of topics that she didn’t quite understand or know about. She learned something new everyday simply by listening to you. 

“I should have thanked Thanos for dusting his ass, though.”

Nebula stopped mid-chew, blank expression but the hint of a twitch in her lip visible.

“I’m joking.”

You had asked her once why Thanos had spared her and Tony when he snapped his fingers. But Nebula had no rational answer, only responding that he must have spared her out of last minute pity and Tony to live through the consequences. And the tiny voice inside your head knocked again, reminding you that ‘maybe this snap was overall a good thing - your father can’t hurt you anymore!’, but you shut it up as quickly as it came. 

“So, how many planets are there in the universe, really?”

     Fury began piling files in one folder, making sure to hand out the sheet with names and contact numbers of agents stationed close to the venue and your chosen hotel.  

“We’ll get into mission specifics at a later date once Rogers and Y/L/N are settled and scope out the place. For now, study up on your targets and perfect your acting skills.”

     You assumed you would only need one big suitcase for the trip, only packing essentials and extra shirts just in case. You rolled your clothes tightly, securing your signature perfume and some jewelry inside some sweaters. You hid identifiable items in the small compartments - your passport, journal, old SHIELD tag, driver’s license, etc. It was the paranoid side of you taking over, the possibility of having your cover blown likely and frightening. The amount of times you had ventured into the general vicinity of your father and his crew always proved safer than you expected. But there could always be that day he simply didn’t want you around anymore. 

So, you prepared in the smallest and even cringiest ways possible - resorting to drafting letters for those you wanted to remember you after you had been taken out. You paused your packing to grab your spare journal. You spent a good hour writing. A letter to Wanda, to Bucky, to Peter, to Rhodey, to Sam. Some were shorter than others - others extending to over two pages. But your mind was racing with things you hoped they would never have to read, scattered thoughts and only hints of identifiable wit penned on paper.

You tucked the letters behind the fabric you had recently ripped open. You planned on duct-taping the rip, your eyes drifting back over to your journal. You tapped your foot rapidly for a few seconds, fingers twisting in anticipation, mind still clear enough to draft one more. You quickly picked the pen right back up, sitting on the edge of your bed and starting the letter you might regret later. But at that moment, with the horrible prospect of dying on this mission, you wrote. 

     ‘Steve,

     Believe when I say that I was so sure I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…’

You wrote and wrote until your handwriting grew sloppy at the edge of the paper, and signed it. You tucked the final letter into the hole and taped it shut. You really hoped you would be able to survive and burn those written words later. 

A soft knock sounded from across the room and your bedroom door opened to reveal Steve, light blue dress shirt tucked into his jeans like the old man he truly was. You couldn’t help but grin at that, cursing your involuntary actions for this man. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” you asked, continuing to fold clothing into your suitcase. He leaned against your door, hesitant. Steve often wondered why and how he could go days, weeks - one time even a whole month - without speaking to or seeing you. He was an expert at one word answers by now, opting to always have someone else around whenever he seriously had to carry a conversation with you. But what struck him the most was that you didn’t seem to care anymore. He witnessed the change - hell, he was the one that caused it - but it was a change that he both wanted and didn’t. How was it so easy for you?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded and walked over to your couch to sit. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to make this conversation the least awkward you could. “Because this was literally sprung on both of us after almost ten years of waiting.”

“I’m okay.”

You accepted his answer. He looked comfortable enough, shoulders relaxed and genuinely interested. There was a part of you that wanted to rush over and shake him, yell at him for being so clueless and fake at the same time. There was no possible way he was fully okay with everything - he hadn’t been himself since the snap, and when Natasha and Tony died, he was someone else entirely. You had brought it up with Bucky several times, but he assured you that Steve was just dealing with things his own way. That he was still a man out of time, they both were, and battle after battle could take its toll. And Bucky would hype their therapist up, that they were the reason he and Steve are able to walk in public without that constant voice warning of danger in the back of their heads, and that you should schedule a visit sometime. You always declined, asking him to call you if he truly needed another person to talk to. He would smile, taking you up on your offer whenever a day was particularly triggering.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was sixteen. Ten years really just flew by… considering.”

Steve nodded, “Is there anything I should know?”

You hummed, “If you mean things about my family, then I’ll just tell you on the way there or at the hotel.”

He chuckled and stood to lean against your bedpost. “No, I mean like, what should I pack just in case?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at such an innocent question, “Um, comfy socks. It’s pretty cold in California in the winter. Gas money, it’s pretty fucking expensive, too.”

He smiled, “Good to know.”

The two of you packed in silence for several minutes. Steve helped you roll your clothes and gather your toiletries, even asking you if you wanted to bring your current toothbrush or the new one in your bottom drawer. 

You knew you shouldn’t have spoken about the topic burning in your throat, but you felt like you had to say something. If you mentioned it during the mission, you risked a larger argument than the one you would get now. So you formulated your next sentence carefully, already bracing for impact as it slipped.

“Look, the elephant in the room should be addressed. Once my father’s dealt with, I have no reason to stay here.”

Steve clipped the belt over the top of your clothes, securing the items tightly. He seemed disoriented, your sudden proclamation startling him. “What do you mean? You did the work, you trained, you helped us literally save the world.”

You shrugged and kept your voice light, “Yeah, but I started this gig when I was sixteen. I didn’t join the Avengers until I was freshly in my twenties. I’ve literally known nothing else but fighting.”

Steve sat at the edge of your bed, furrowed eyebrows and all as he chose his next words. He felt both angry and sad, a mixture of feelings that he never quite grew accustomed to whenever he was around you. They ate away at him slowly, creeping into his brain to wrap around his common sense, his sense of self, the man he was before the snap. 

“Are you saying you just need a break?”

“I think,” you shrugged, zipping the suitcase and tugging its weight off your bed and onto the floor. 

“What about Wanda and Bucky?”

You scrunched your face in amused confusion, a playful smile resting on your lips, “I’m not falling off the face of the Earth, Steve. I’ll visit or something.”

“Or something.”

He stood and walked back to your couch, restless and even more stressed than he was before he entered your room. 

“Steve, we lost so much. It’s been two years since we brought everyone back, but… it took its toll.”

He snapped his head up, “You don’t need to tell me about shit taking its toll.”

You felt like you stared at him for several minutes, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach and traveling up your throat. That familiar lump constricting your airway as you forced yourself to swallow it and the forming tears. And once again, your mouth spoke before your mind could approve.      

“Why didn’t you use the stones for yourself?”

Steve sat, shocked into silence temporarily. “What?”

“When you and Carol put the stones back - why didn’t you stay somewhere you really wanted to be?”

You remember watching him step onto the platform holding the briefcase of infinity stones and holding Mjollnir, - because of fucking course he could wield Mjollnir, he was a good man even if you were on his bad side - simply minding his own business and waiting for Carol to join him. You remember thinking he would return with a different story, only after he got some of that life Tony had always encouraged him to find, that he would go back to Peggy and live the life he always wanted. But as quickly as they disappeared into thousands of timelines did they reappear, Carol joyful and content while Steve trailed behind her. Your heart had pounded erratically, Bucky looking at you with wide eyes because yes, I thought he would do exactly what you were thinking, too. 

“None of your business.”

“I’m not trying to pry-” you reasoned, but Steve stepped toward you with flushed cheeks and a cracked voice. 

“But all you do is pry, pry, pry. God, do you ever just shut up?”

All you could hear behind the ringing of your ears were Steve’s quick breaths, slowing as each second passed and he realized what he had said. A moment of weakness, in his opinion, but still uncalled for. 

“Pack some snacks for the road and get out of my room.”

Steve straightened his back, eyes practically yelling for you to look at him again, pleading for you to see the remorse swimming in them. But you just tugged your suitcase to the corner of your room, ignoring him completely. “Gladly.”

     You and Steve were mature enough to keep your arguments at least a hundred miles away from any mission you were conducting or when around your friends. A quick quarrel in the morning was basically nonexistent a few hours later when the whole group suggested a board game or movie night. Although this impromptu road trip would be the slightest bit awkward, you two were smart enough to not compromise the mission. 

And you had to drive as flying and airport security was too risky, especially with the amount of weapons attached to your body and in the trunk of that rented car. 

“Call us when you hit the first checkpoint. After that, we’ll be monitoring your hotel check-in and any new ones, police reports filed throughout that week, anything that directly involves your stay,” Bucky said, handing you a burner phone. 

You stepped forward to hug him. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight squeeze, releasing you slightly to whisper in your ear. “Try not to kill him for the next twelve hours, will ya?”

You pulled away and gave him your best grin, bumping your bracelet with his. “You know I can’t promise that, Bucky.”

He rolled his eyes, “You kill him, I kill you.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me.” Bucky almost burst out laughing from the fake, pornographic moan you let out because of his threat. 

“No, but seriously - just… lay low, trust each other, and we’ll be there in the next few days.”

You slid the burner into your sweater pocket and patted it, checking if it was secure. You waved goodbye to Bucky and pulled the passenger door open. You blew him a kiss, red lipstick now on your fingers. “Can’t wait to see you!”

Bucky stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, an embarrassed but happy smile on his face. He caught the floating kiss mid-air. “Already miss you!”

“Stop, I’m blushing!” you teased, your left hand resting palm up on your forehead in an exaggerated manner. 

“Go!”

You obliged, falling into the passenger seat and clicking your seatbelt. 

Twenty minutes into the drive and Steve finally decided to speak. 

“So, you and Bucky?”

You giggled, thumbs currently flying over your phone screen as you tried to beat your high score in some awful video game you discovered last week. “Yup, I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Steve’s hand fidgeted on the steering wheel, “Seriously?”

You closed out your video game, “No, Steve. It’s mindless flirting. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahh…” he nodded in understanding, a lazy smile resting on his face. He focused on both the road and you, your head leaning against the foggy window. “About earlier-”

“Don’t mention it,” you interrupted. The second you peaked through your heavy eyelids did you lock eyes with Steve, regret visible in them. 

He continued, “I blew up at you and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Cool, you’re forgiven.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned quietly, but you weren’t getting angry. You were just tired from the day already and having to sit for twelve hours straight wasn’t going to help. So, you took the high road. “Look, it’s a twelve hour drive until our first stop. Let’s forget about it or else I promise you, I will jump out of this car when you push eighty.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in his chest due to your absurd promise, but he accepted your answer. 

“...Okay.” 

     By hour two, there was a restlessness between the both of you. No matter how much you extended your leg, the cramping wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times Steve would twist his neck to the side to get it to crack, it would just tighten again. So, against protocol but still on your best behavior, you and Steve made a couple stops along the way.      

The first was a burger joint in the middle of buttfuck Ohio, you had commented, earning a choking sound from Steve as he tried to contain his laughter. It was a hole in the wall type of place, perfect for lying low and out of sight, and you had enjoyed your meal in the car. You listened to Steve’s playlist on low volume, stealing each other’s fries to simply piss the other off, and hit the road after your meal.      

The second stop was around hour eight, and the sun was already starting to set. You desperately needed to use the bathroom and once you saw a tiny town that ‘looks so much like the town in Gilmore Girls!’, Steve pulled over and parked in a diner parking lot. Donning caps and ordering a coffee and a tea to go to seem less suspicious, you hurried from the diner and back to your car. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyeing a gazebo with a black miniature fence around it. You begged Steve to snap a photo, promising that this would be the only favor you ask of him for the next few hours, and went to hitch one leg over the metal fence. You settled yourself on top, hands gripping the railing and trying not to fall. You started to laugh uncontrollably as the fence started hurting your bottom, begging Steve to snap the photo quicker.      

‘Take the damn picture, you big oaf!’     

‘Well, then hold still!’     

‘It’s hurting my ass!’     

‘Smile!’    

The third stop was the final one, somewhere in Iowa and deep in the forest. You complained about how Fury warned you of motels, that you would have to seek shelter elsewhere to avoid being recognized. You could easily blend in, but the mountain of muscle beside you would blow your cover. And you wanted to arrive in California undetected by the media.       

Steve drove the car into a dark and secluded part of the forest, ground that seemed used by campers often and had an emergency phone and landline nearby. It was secret enough, so you parked the car and retrieved the blankets from the trunk.      

“You taking the back?” Steve asked, jumping back into the car and rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather. His face was flushed from just a few seconds out in the cool breeze, nose frozen and the tip red. He looked younger, you thought, somewhat resembling those renditions of Greeks in renaissance art.      

“You’ve been driving all day. You should stretch your legs,” you answered, already wrapping the blanket up to your shoulders and securing it around your neck.      

“You sure? We can alternate.”     

You smiled, already feeling the effects of the warmth on your tired body, “I’m sure, Steve. Get some rest and I’ll drive in the morning.”     

Steve exited the car after turning it off - sucks that you had to save the gas - and hopped into the backseat. He kicked off his shoes and lay across the connected seat, facing you. He could see the outline of your nose as you tilted your head slightly to the side, the blanket wrapped around your neck and hiding the real length of your hair. It resembled a bob cut by how half of it was hidden, and Steve thought that hairstyle would suit you.      

Your personal phone rang, cutting through the comfortable silence and startling the both of you. You fumbled it in your hand and looked back at Steve, face falling as you showed him the name.      

Seda.      

“Answer it on the third ring.”     

You did as Steve told you, answering the phone on the third ring and preparing your voice. He scrambled for the tape recorder, pressing ‘play’ as soon as he could.      

“You rarely call me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you answered.      

His voice sounded hoarse over the phone, almost like he had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. “Are you attending?”    

“My dear sister is getting married, Seda. Of course I’m going to embarrass her.”     

He paused for a few moments, sounding like he was directing the people around him to finish something. But he responded to your answer in a serious tone. “I hope you’re being your usual sarcastic self and aren’t serious.”     

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the phone, and Steve’s lips spread into a smile. “You’ve known me long enough to know, I hope.”     

“Sadly.”     

“I’m hurt,” you joked, voice still light and cheerful. Seda paused on the line again, the sound of papers rustling letting you know the line was still active.      

“I need to know if the Captain is attending too.”     

“He was invited,” you responded, laughing a little at the fact that Seda hadn’t known this information you were sure the rest of your family knew.      

He chuckled, a slight whistle sound letting you know he was smoking another cigarette. “Mm, guess your family is finally meeting your lover, huh?”     

The air in your mouth didn’t make it down to your lungs and you looked at Steve with equally wide eyes. But you didn’t stay fazed for long, responding to such an accusation with ease. “My lover, yes. I’m so damn giddy about that.”     

Seda hummed in satisfaction, “Your father always told you to not get involved with the product. Scrambles your brains from thinking straight. But he applauds you on this one.”     

You put a finger in your mouth and mimicked gagging, causing Steve to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh. “I’ve never mentioned the Captain as my lover before. Why is my father always right?”     

You knew exactly what to say. The more backhanded praise you gave your father only fed into the truth and lies everyone knew - truth being you hated your father because of his power and the lie being that you were just as power hungry as him. As long everyone assumed you wanted this power, the more you had to act like you hated your father’s.      

“He knows more than he lets on. You know that.”     

“I know a lot of things.”     

Seda continued, “No friends allowed, anyway. So, if the Captain isn’t your lover then… we may have problems. Is there a problem?”     

You kept your voice at a steady volume, “I said I was with him, didn’t I? Have you seen the man?”          

“Seen him, heard him speak. So righteous and dull. Not really your type.” Seda was growing impatient with the conversation, clearly angry that he hadn’t caught a slip or lie from you.      

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Ew, don’t think you know my type.”     

     “Buck, ‘my type’ is back home with a warm chicken noodle soup in my lap and a couple of loose papers at my disposal,” Steve whined, trying to keep the same pace as his overly enthusiastic friend as he hurried down the sidewalk.      

“She’s such a knockout, Steve! I’m sure she’ll love you.”     

Steve couldn’t help but blush at Bucky’s kind words, the hype always repairing some parts of Steve’s broken self-esteem and reminding him of his worth. But it was his third date this month and rejection was starting to seem like his favorite sport. No matter what he did - offering a girl some peanuts, accidentally stepping on her (once!) feet while dancing, or simply not living up to Bucky’s gracious advertising - women just weren’t interested.      

“You know that’s not true, Buck. Can’t we just have a quiet night in?”     

Bucky stopped and guided them into the nearby alley, both to knock some sense into his friend and to give Steve a break from the tiny jog.      

“Listen here, Steve. Any girl would be lucky to be with you-”     

“Buck, we’ve been through this-”     

“Let me finish,” Bucky shushed him, hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady both him and himself. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you. If this one doesn’t see you how I see you, then she’s just insane.”     

Steve smirked, “Don’t insult the girl before I’ve even met her, jerk.”     

Bucky smiled, his high cheeks pushing up to create crinkles by his eyes. “Trust me, pal. You just need to find a woman with as big of a mouth as you.”     

Steve swatted his friend across his chest, laughs rumbling in both their chests and down the once quiet alleyway.      

     “What hotel are you staying at?” Seda quickly asked, ignoring your quip. You were done with this conversation as it was leading nowhere.      

“Staying at one where no one can hear the Captain scramble my brains. Goodbye,” you replied, an annoyance in your tone that even Seda would believe as natural.      

“See you soon.”     

You let Seda end the call, a little power play you allowed him to have. God, it was gonna feel good to take him down.     

Steve shifted in his seat, stopping the recorder in time for his question. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why did your dad assume we were a couple?”     

You gave him a tiny chuckle, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders and settling back into your seat. “I don’t know why that man says anything anymore. I guess they just expected it.”     

“Why?”     

No matter how many years passed, both awake or frozen, Steve never did quite understand the sexual appeal that lingered around his name. No matter how many times Bucky joked about it, no matter the amount of social media posts, no matter anything - he just didn’t seem to understand why people thought he was a ladies man. 

You snuggled deeper into your blanket, scanning the outside woods one last time just in case. “You wouldn’t risk your reputation and status for me unless you were fucking me, I guess.”

“Crude.”

You turned your head to him and sighed, “They think I’m the whore of the family. It’s just too funny sometimes.”

Steve’s face fell, “I’m sorry about that.”

You shuffled in your blanket to pull your arm out and wave it in the air.  “Used to it.” 

Steve didn’t press further, deciding to lay back finally to find a cozier position. It was quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and slight motion disturbing the silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the moonlight hitting the steering wheel. By the sound of Steve’s breathing, you knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet. So you allowed yourself the smallest confession, a crack in the door Steve was figuratively standing outside of.

“My sister is his prized possession, though.”

Steve didn’t respond, but from the sound of the blanket moving you could tell he had turned to face you. 

“Never knew why.”

Steve pondered your words for a long time, long after your breathing became slower and tiny snores left your mouth. He didn’t exactly know what to say or what to do. It wasn’t like you dropped top secret information on him or anything, but it made him wonder just why in the world your father hated you so much. 

You had done everything asked of you. You were controlled, tortured mentally everyday, having to endure and make decisions that Steve knew you didn’t want any part of. Your father should be thanking you for keeping his business afloat, for expanding it, for roping Steve’s own name into that life. As he contemplated any rational reason for such hate, he heard your soft snore turn into an innocent purr, and he felt himself leaning more into a mutual understanding. It frightened him, gripping his reality by the throat, because Steve actually knew why. That innocence he saw with you, no doubt had presented itself to your father involuntarily and your father knew. 

He knew you were good at heart. 

~

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​

[morifinwes]

Lauraa I finished all the fics, apart from decay (currently reading that now) and I love it sm! Especially the lip gloss one lmao the whole thing was so hilarious to me XD but also like the concept of lwj wearing lipgloss is >>> -yibobibo

@yibobibo then i'm going to rec you some more!! the lip gloss one was !!!!! ajsksks yes!! lwj wearing lipgloss is just so!! good!!

modern

this one is the painful one i talked about:

visitations by var_abelasan (12K, wip, divorced wangxian, post divorce, most of this is angst, uhm lowkey don't but also do want wangxian to end up together, it's messy, the jiangs & lans are shitty, wwx was in prison (brief mentions of that but it's kind of a major plot point), mxy & xy are the little brothers he never wanted but wwx picked them up anyways)

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry." 

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine. 

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

 

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

please don't let me be misunderstood by sysrae (3K, partly deaf!wwx, lwj notices, nobody else does though, idk wwx is like made out of fucking steel or some shit)

Lan Wangji has known Wei Ying for a fortnight, the first time he sees him get hit by a car.

light by redkosmos (10K, blind!lwj, which causes angst, but they manage it, best friends to lovers, fluff, lwj being insecure and feeling like a burden, college au kind of? but it doesn't matter too much)

The realization slowly dawns on him.

He can never again see the brightness of Wei Ying's eyes, the way they crescent when he smiles, never again see the rich black of his hair, the mess of it in the early mornings, never again see the beautiful tan of his skin, the beauty of the scars and marks adorned on it, how he wears his clothes, how it hugs his frame beautifully, how he looks like he's adorably swimming in cloth when he wears Lan Zhan's, and-

(Lan Zhan loses his vision in a car accident and learns to cope with it.)

don't leave me by trippinonskies (19K, brief very brief mention of lwj cheating, he doesn't but wwx is afraid lwj is cheating on him or just wants to break up with him, (he doesn't), marriage proposal, lwj acting distant = wwx's insecurities show up, fluff, angst and comfort)

Lan Zhan! Where are you lost today?” Wei Wuxian finally asks, at the end of his patience.

Lan Zhan looks a little guilty as he looks at Wei Wuxian, “Sorry, just a lot of work to deal with.”

Lie.

If there is one thing Lan Zhan can’t do, it’s lying. Especially to Wei Wuxian. But he doesn’t question Lan Zhan. He just accepts the reply, too scared to know that he is right. Too scared to know the truth.

// or where Lan Zhan is too hung up in planning the perfect proposal and ends up accidently ignoring Wei Wuxian making the other think that he wants to break up //

want you closer by xiaobucephalus ((3K, HORSES, only in the background tho, but wwx is an equestrian vet, which is so fucking valid bro, the lans own horses, a sick bunny, lwj the bunny parent!, super cute, dark bay throughoutbred chenqing is honestly so valid)

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Don’t thank me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughed again, his voice warming the chill of fear that had settled in his chest. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get into your hutch for a while anyway.”

safe in your thoughts by anonymous (20K, it's a cherry magic au???? (i haven't watched it, but you have i think?), horny lwj but only for wwx (always for wwx))

Wei Wuxian learns three very important things on the night of his twenty-seventh birthday.

One, that Lan Wangji is ridiculously funny, which Wei Wuxian had known before but what Wei Wuxain hadn’t expected was Lan Wangji to be funny at his brother’s expense.

Two, that Wei Wuxian had finally gone mad, absolutely mental at the ripe age of twenty seven because nothing else would explain the third thing he had learnt.

Third, and the most unbelievable of the lot, that Lan Wangji wants to fuck him.

iura by yoo_im_finally_writing (1K, only added bcs op is right and wwx would've the cutest german accent, it's more fun if you understand german so hit me up if you want translations for the german sentences)

Wei Ying calls in the middle of the night to talk about German law, and Lan Zhan tries very hard not to fall asleep. Or at least, not to let Wei Ying notice he's falling asleep. (As best friends do.)

breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm / @neverdoingmuch (27K, getting together, jealous!lwj, but also kind of supportive, brief mention of cheating bcs of miscommunication, no actual cheating tho, college au, lwj pov)

Following Wei Ying’s line of sight, Lan Wangji can barely prevent a smile from crossing his lips when he sees the short row of rabbit statuettes placed at the front of the display. Silver, with bright gems for eyes, they look elegant yet lively and animated.

“A-Yuan would love one of those,” Wei Ying murmurs, almost as if to himself.

Lan Wangji frowns; the rabbits, while cute, don’t seem like a suitable gift for Wei Ying’s A-Yuan.

...

It’s only when he glances back at the rabbits and notices what has been placed on display behind them, that the pieces fall into place. They’re engagement rings, there’s no doubt about it. Lan Wangji feels his heart sink – Wei Ying isn’t just dating A-Yuan, he wants to propose to him.

Or: the five times Lan Wangji thinks that A-Yuan is Wei Ying’s boyfriend and the one time he learns the truth.

paint smears on sunny days by snowshadowao3 / @angstsexual (53K, getting together, art teacher!wwx, single parent!lwj, they're rich if i remember right, wwx & lwj are both good with kids!!!, this is so good actually, fluff)

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

no bunny compares by gusucloudbunny (4K, god this is cute, fluff)

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cornered his friend one week before his birthday. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow at Wei Wuxian, not exactly sure how to answer that question in a truthful manner that didn’t involve confessing his undying love for his best friend.

Wei Wuxian is on a mission to get Lan Wangji the perfect gift for his birthday. What Wei Wuxian doesn't know is that the only thing Lan Wangji truly wants is him.

wei wuxian's week of realizing things by photojenny (12K, i have read this multiple times, i always forget what happens, idk why but my notes say it's good, the tags say drunkji makes an appearance and i'm always up for that)

"Lan Zhan, do you like Mianmian?" asked Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji blinked, and stared. It was not the first time Lan Wangji had questioned the perceptiveness of the boy he had a crush on. Wei Wuxian had been smart in the class they had taken together. Yet time and time again, Wei Wuxian had tested the old wisdom that there are no stupid questions.

---

Lan Wangji must figure out how to confess when Wei Wuxian is the most oblivious person he's ever met.

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (1K, crack, fluff, lwj stop flirting with a stranger, even if he is your husband, drunkji but make it to max level)

Lan Zhan wakes up and he has no idea where he is.

There are bright lights and his jaw hurts, he doesn't who this man next to his bed is but oh he might be in love, maybe, probably, definitely.

–

based off that guy-forgets-who-his-wife-is-and-hits-on-her vid but its wangxian.

beep! goes his heart by wearing_tearing (3K, fluff, lwj is like "he, he likes me right? he likes me" and everyone is like "yes, yes he does")

“Wei Ying’s heart monitor,” Lan Wangji starts.

Wen Qing blinks at him. “Yes?”

“It beeps.”

“That’s… what they generally do, yes.”

“The beeps change,” Lan Wangji continues, “when others are around.”

*

Wei Ying’s heart only sings for Lan Wangji.

canon

obedient and bellicose by thunderwear (19K, lwj is cursed by the lan elders, they notice too late, fix-it fic kind of?, lqr being a good uncle and lxc is a good brother, wwx accidentally uses the curse but he doesn't know about it)

It took Lan Wangji a long time to realize he was cursed. Too long really, anyone else would have noticed so much sooner. The problem was, he liked following the rules.

Ella Enchanted AU that no one needed but I wanted.

hello my old heart, how have you been? by ravenditefairylights (10K, amnesia, fluff, wwx taking care of lwj, so much fluff and softness, angst too but not that much)

The issue is, Lan Wangji brings his thoughts back before they stray too far, that it is impossible for someone to be in his bed, unless Lan Wangji himself invited them. He has not. He would remember doing so, and besides, all his night clothes are still on and there is no headache to imply that he was inebriated last night. No, the situation is simple.

There is someone in Lan Wangji’s bed. It is impossible for anyone to be in Lan Wangji’s bed, and yet that doesn’t seem to have stopped the stranger.

or lan wangji wakes up, and wei ying is there. he doesn't understand how or why, and he can understand even less why his hallucination of wei ying is so insistent on bathing him, and braiding his hair, on holding him and fixing his clothes. why the hallucination of wei ying seems so happy to see him.

teach me the way by likeafox (58K, rogue cultivator!wwx, horny wangxian, lwj wants wwx to teach him how to be a good lover, ....wwx is a virgin, the porn is the plot, but there's less of it than i thought)

"I do not wish to leave my future spouse… dissatisfied with my intimate knowledge,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously. “I am hoping to find an instructor, to better prepare myself for such matters."

Wei Ying feels his mouth drop open. He's pretty sure the Second Jade of Lan just told him he's a virgin who wants to learn how to do sex good.

Rogue Cultivator Wei Wuxian is the stuff of local legends. Some of those legends are even true! The ones about his tremendous experience in bed, on the other hand, are not so true. Which becomes a problem when Lan Wangji, on the verge of an arranged marriage and worried he won’t know how to please his future spouse, enlists Wei Ying's help to teach him the art of love-making. Wei Ying's great at improvisation, though, and is pretty sure he's got this sex mentor thing under control. What could possibly go wrong

other aus

of god: my love unholy by tunnelodfawn (3K, tw blood / war, dark!lwj, god!wwx, kind of poetry)

Lan Zhan takes everything as a sign from his god. The blood staining his fingertips—a holy anointment. He sanctifies himself through blood. The strings of his guqin gleam red in the sun—a divine blessing. This is an instrument of destruction. A single note—a cry of power—and in this note the voice of his god unravels the earthly threads tethering man to earth.

The Yiling Patriarch blesses Lan Zhan with war. Wei Wuxian blesses Lan Zhan with agility. Wei Ying blesses Lan Zhan with love.

The base of the Yiling Patriarch’s shrine is the home of Lan Zhan’s knees. He worships. There is something of the blasphemous and the unholy in his prayers. He prays not for victory but for the sight of Wei Ying. Bless me with your presence, he begs.

Or, wherein, Lan Zhan bridges the gap between the mortal and the divine—the worshipper and the god—with blood.

the river and the sea by sasamelons / @sasamelons (7K, soulmate au, arranged marriage (wangxian with each other), they're both kind of dumb but i love it)

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, wishing to just be left alone. "I am looking for my soulmate," he ground out.

"Oh."

It took Lan Wangji a few moments to realize that Wei Wuxian had stopped following him. When he looked back, the other boy seemed to be frozen to the spot, eyes wide and lips still parted. He quickly looked away when he saw Lan Wangji looking back. "I see. Well, have a good trip!"

--

At six years old, Lan Zhan met his soulmate on the streets of Yiling and promptly lost him again.

At sixteen years old, Lan Wangji met his betrothed and was determined not to like him.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Into The Dark Side pt 1

So I wrote this a few months ago, and I wasn’t gonna post it until it was finished, but it felt kinda relevant after yesterday’s episode so here, take it

No Spoilers!! I didn’t add anything since yesterday (except for like fixing some grammar mistakes) so none of it was influenced by the ep. It’s an AU either way

Word Count: 2400

Rating: Teen

Pairing: gen

Warnings: swearing, suggestive language, threats of violence (Remus stuff)

~~~START~~~

“I want you to make me a Dark Side.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow at both the odd request, and the fact that the other Side thought he could just barge into his study without knocking. “Excuse me?”

“I know that you control the separation between the so-called ‘Light Sides’ and the ‘Dark Sides’. I want you to turn me into a Dark Side.”

“Indeed,” Deceit replied thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. He was hoping to come off as casual and aloof, but on the inside, he was completely lost. “I definitely follow. Light Sides ask to become Dark Sides all the time, it’s never the other way around.”

“Thomas frequently asks for my opinion, but once I have given it, my opinion is ignored. I believe my function would be performed more efficiently if I were working behind the scenes, so to speak.”

“Yes,” Deceit leaned forward, steepling his gloved fingers under his chin. “Because Dark Sides are known for being listened to and respected.”

“If my opinion is not going to be listened to, then I would prefer everyone stop asking for it.”

“Hmm, very well. I won’t fulfill your request, but just know, everything in life is free. There is never a price to pay.”

“I do not care. I shall pay, whatever the price.”

Deceit smirked at the other Side, and held out one hand. “Then won’t you shake a poor sinner's hand?” He purred, watching the other Side closely.

He took Deceit’s hand without hesitation and was immediately engulfed in a blinding yellow light. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Deceit muttering “transformation central.”

~~~

“-you to make me a Dark Side-”

“-definitely follow-”

“-opinion is ignored-”

“-never a price to pay-”

“I do not care.”

Logan woke up in his bed, glasses still on his face. His room looked exactly the same except everything was in black and white.

Odd. Do all Dark Sides see in monochrome or is this some sort of practical joke played by Deceit?

He was scanning around the room, trying to decipher whether or not Deceit held up his side of the bargain, when he noticed that the lights were off. A glance at the clock told him that it was 5:30 am, much too early for him to be able to see anything more than vague outlines without a light on, let alone the most minute details on his periodic table poster.

Extremely odd indeed.

Cautiously, Logan made his way across the room to the light switch. He flicked the lights on, and suddenly all the colors of his room returned.

Interesting

Curiously, he switched the lights off again. Everything lost color immediately, but not clarity.

Very interesting. Perhaps Dark Sides can see in the dark. Further testing is required.

Leaving the lights off — he could see perfectly well in the dark so why waste electricity? —Logan headed to the bathroom attached to his room to begin his morning ablutions. He didn’t make it very far, however, because as soon as he caught sight of his reflection, he realized why he could see so well in the dark.

Ah, this is what Deceit must have meant when he said there was a price to pay.

All Dark Sides had animal traits. Deceit had snake scales covering random parts of his body, as well as a single snake eye and a forked tongue. Lust - while technically a Neutral Side - had black markings around his eyes, as well as having swan-like wings that jutted out from his back. Apathy also had black marks around his eyes - though his trailed down his face while Lust’s swooped back towards his ears - as well as an overly-large fuzzy sweatshirt that’s sleeves extend well past the tips of his fingers. Greed had intermittent scales like Deceit, though his were larger and shinier, and sometimes smoke came out of his mouth. Jealousy had opposable toes and a prehensile tail. The Duke had tentacles. And Anxiety… Well, Anxiety hid his animal traits well, but Logan was sure that he had some somewhere.

(And then of course there was Malice, Pride, and Rage, but while Logan was aware of their existence, he had never seen them before, and therefore did not know what animals they were represented by, nor how their traits manifest.)

Logan now had animal traits too. His glasses were now round with thick frames, and while his prescription hadn’t changed, they were now magnifying his eyes, making them look overly large and round. His eyebrows had gotten bushier and seemed to be permanently downturned, making him appear to be perpetually glaring. And worst of all, his hair no longer lay flat in a simple, professional style, but rather created two spikes on his head that seem to line up with the angle and trajectory of his eyebrows.

He was an owl. A great horned owl to be precise - and while owls were not known to be any more intelligent than any other type of bird, Logan understood that Dark Sides’ animal traits came from Thomas’ perception of animals, rather than from the actual behaviors of said animals.

This shall… take some getting used to. Still, it’s hardly a great price.

After several minutes of trying - and failing - to get his hair to lie flat, he gave up and decided to just start his day like he always did - with a strong cup of coffee and a nice, healthy breakfast.

Perhaps the hardest part of getting to the kitchen was that, other than his room, everything in the Dark side of the mindscape was a mirror image of how it was in the Light side, though, the fact that there were significantly more doors, and a good number of extra hallways that Logan — even with his more enhanced night vision — could not manage to see down didn’t help. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to make it to the kitchen, and when he got there, he was surprised to find he was not the only one awake.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Anxiety was sitting on top of the fridge, eating chips right out of the bag, and staring down at him.

Logan bristled a bit, which unfortunately meant his hair and clothes flared out like feathers on an agitated owl.

Unfortunate. I should make a note of that for the future.

Thankfully, Anxiety didn’t laugh at him (he wants to, though), instead he just continued to stare at Logan expectantly.

“What’s with the owl getup?”

“Ah, that. I made a deal with Deceit to become a Dark Side.” Logan answered, trying to regain his dignity. Anxiety stiffened at the answer.

“What was the price?” Anxiety demanded, gaze scanning quickly over the room, resting for a moment on a dark hallway that didn’t exist on the Light side, returning to Logan only when he found nothing to be out of place or unusual other than Logan himself.

“This, I presume,” Logan stuck his arms out to show off his unfortunate shirt-feathers. “I’ve become part owl. A bird characterized in popular media as being exceptionally smart, though in reality is of average intelligence for avians. A more accurate choice would have perhaps been a crow or a parrot, both of which are not only considered smart for avians, but for animals in general.”

Anxiety began shaking his head long before Logan finished his rant. “The animal traits are part of the gig, teach, not the price. What did Deceit ask for in return for making you a Dark Side?”

“I, uh, do not know,” Logan admitted slowly. In his haste to become a Dark Side, he had brushed off Deceit’s mention of a price, and now he was faced with the fact that he didn’t know what he paid.

“You don’t know?” Anxiety asked incredulously. Perhaps Logan should have been a little more like Anxiety. Anxiety would have never made a deal if he didn’t know exactly what the deal was, his overly cautious nature was what made Thomas double check the locks in his apartment before going to bed.

“No… I do not.”

“For being the smart one, you sure are a clueless moron.” Anxiety jumped off the fridge in one fluid motion, landing lightly - almost silently - on his feet in front of Logan. “C’mon, we’re gonna go ask Deceit what you paid.”

There was no room for argument as Anxiety grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen. Anxiety didn’t appear to be thrown off by the mirror image layout, or by the mysterious extra doors and hallways, but Logan supposed that was to be expected.

He has always lived here; he would know his way around much better than I. In fact, he would probably describe the Light Side as being a mirror image, despite the fact that it has the same basic layout as Thomas’s apartment.

“What are these extra hallways?” Logan asked curiously as they passed by two, one on either side. “And there appear to be a great number of extra doors.”

“Don’t go down hallways you can’t see down, and don’t open doors if you don’t know where they lead,” Anxiety ordered sharply instead of giving a proper answer.

“Why?” Anxiety let out an annoyed hiss, and yanked Logan to a stop.

“Just. Don’t.” He released his grip on Logan’s wrist and turned to the door that they’d stopped in front of. “We’re here.”

Anxiety rapped on the door three times. Nothing happened.

“Dee!” He called, knocking again, louder. “I know you’re in there! Open the d-”

The door flew open suddenly, banging loudly from its impact with the wall. A tentacle shot out of the impossibly dark room, wrapped around Anxiety’s wrist, and yanked the Side into the abyss before Logan could even process what was happening.

Barely a second later, another tentacle wrapped around Logan’s wrist, and yanked him into the room as well. The tentacle let go of him, and the door slammed shut again behind him, cutting off the only source of light in the pitch-black room.

“Anxiety!” A voice chuckled. “You never come to visit me! Oh I’m so touched!”

“Get off of me, Duke!” Logan could hear struggling a few feet away where both the Duke and Anxiety’s voices were coming from - as well as an interesting squwelshing noise. “I’m looking for Deceit, why are you in his room?”

“Oh, emo, you’re so funny!” The Duke laughed. “Deceit’s gone.”

“WHAT?”

“Oh yeah, seems he made a trade with a certain, discontent Light Side. I came across this empty room this morning and though it could fit sooo many butts in here, so it’s mine now!”

“Though I loathe to place myself in the middle of this conversation,” Logan interrupted. “Why can’t I see anything?”

“Cuz it’s not your room, dipshit,” Anxiety snapped.

“Now, Anxie, be nice to the nerd,” the Duke cooed. “He’s not from here.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, allowing Logan to take in their surroundings for the first time. The room was empty other than for himself and the other two Dark Sides, with nearly pristine white walls and carpet - though a splattering of… interesting colors littered the area around the Duke’s feet. Logan was about a foot away from the door with a tentacle reaching past him towards the light switch.

The Duke was standing in the approximate center of the room, about five feet away from Logan. His two human arms were wrapped around Anxiety, trapping his arms to his sides, lifting him off the ground, and clutching him to the Duke’s chest, while two of the Duke’s tentacles are wrapped around his legs to keep the anxious Side from kicking.

“Great,” Anxiety commented sarcastically. “Now lemme go you slimy-“

The Duke’s final tentacle wrapped around Anxiety’s head like a gag, cutting off whatever expletives were about to come out of his mouth.

“That’s better!” The Duke cheered. “Oh! My my, Anxiety, I didn’t know you were so kinky!”

The words spurred on another round of struggling from Anxiety, but the Duke held fast.

“Now, Archimedes,” the tentacle that had turned the lights on then wrapped around Logan’s wrist and pulled him closer to the conversation, though it was considerably gentler than when it had dragged him into the room - less like being kidnapped and more like having a child excited to show him something. “You can’t see in the dark in other Side’s spaces, it’s rude! You can only see in the dark in your room, and the common spaces.”

“What about all those hallways I couldn’t see down?” Logan asked, ignoring the silent glare coming from the trapped Anxiety.

“Oh those?” The Duke leaned in close enough that Logan could smell his foul breath. “Those are where the Darkest Sides live. The ones that give poor wittle Morality and Anxiety nightmares.” The Duke punctuated this by licking Anxiety’s cheek. “The ones that Deceit keeps under strict lock and key because even he’s afraid of letting them out.”

“Pride, Rage, and Malice,” Logan guessed.

“And me, of course.” The Duke dropped Anxiety in order to pose dramatically, arranging his tentacles around himself menacingly, but artistically.

Definitely Roman’s brother.

“But as I’m sure you know, Raerae, Octopi can fit through any opening they can get their beak through. All Deceit’s horses and all Morality’s men can’t keep me in the darkness forever. Every now and then, I get out and share all my fun ideas with Thomas.”

“Your ideas aren’t fun!” Anxiety hissed from the corner where he’d retreated to as soon as the Duke had released him. Logan noted his defensive stance, darkened eyeshadow, and involuntary hissing, and wondered if Anxiety’s animal traits were perhaps that of a racoon. “Now let us out!”

“Sorry, Tickle Me Emo,” the Duke giggled. He reached a tentacle out to open the door, but instead of the dimly lit hallway Logan and Anxiety had come from, beyond the door was pitch black. “I can’t open doors to the Dark Side unless someone lets me — like you did earlier when you knocked — but since Jay Jay the Jet Plane’s flown the coop, ~no one’s gonna come looking for you,~” the Duke advanced towards Anxiety, his posture and tone becoming less friendly and more menacing. “It’s just you, me, and Pigwidgeon here.”

~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~

To be clear: Lust is a swan, Apathy is a sloth, Greed is a dragon, and Jealousy is monkey

Ten points if you guess Virgil’s animal traits

Twenty points if you guess what Pride, Malice, and Rage are

General Taglist: @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple

[shineyma]

week twelve drabble

i’ve been sick all week and a real fic just wasn’t happening. so i hope y’all enjoy this drabble instead <3

He’d never admit it to anyone (hell, he barely admits it to himself) but when Grant’s soulmark burns its way across his chest, he’s just as scared as he is excited.

It’s not the soulmark that’s the problem. He’s been waiting his whole life for his soulmark—for his soulmate. He’s eager to see it, to have concrete proof of the connection—a guarantee that someday soon his soul will bond with its other half. He wants it. Bad.

No, the problem is the timing. He’s been in this stupid hole-in-the-ground cell for six months, and he’s put all of his eggs in the same basket: the Skye’s-my-soulmate basket. He’s felt drawn to her since day one, and with the way their relationship developed before the uprising threw a wrench into things…

She’s his soulmate. She’s gotta be.

But if she’s not…if she’s not, then he’s been playing her all wrong—playing his entire imprisonment all wrong—and it’s too late to walk it back. If his soulmate is anyone other than Skye, he’s screwed. He’ll be stuck down here until…well, until he takes some steps he’d rather not.

So, yeah. When he feels the burn in his chest, the bone-deep ache of his soulmark being born, he’s nervous.

That doesn’t stop him from ripping his shirt off to check it right away, obviously. It just means he’s holding his breath when he does.

And that breath leaves him all at once when he lays eyes on his brand new soulmark. Lightheaded, he falls back on his bed to sit.

It’s Skye. It has to be Skye. When his soulmark is a little plane—the goddamned Bus—with a little black line trailing out behind it, a contrail that’ll turn into his soulmate’s name as soon as their bond is cemented—who else could it be?

He was right. It’s Skye. And some day—someday soon—he’ll be out of this hellhole and with his soulmate.

.

.

.

No one comes down to see him that day, or the next.

That’s fine. He’s sure they’re all struggling with what’s happened, Skye most of all. Soulmarks are made to complete each other the way soulmates do, so she won’t have the little plane like he does—she’ll have the other half of the soulmark. His name. Once they bond, she’ll get the plane and he’ll get her name (he wonders which name it’ll be: the one she chose? The one given to her when she was an unwanted orphan? The one her parents came up with?) and they’ll both be whole.

In the meantime, Skye’s been denying any kind of connection to him, any kind of feelings for him, for months. Having his name write itself across her skin must’ve been a hell of a shock. She’ll need time to come to terms with it, and that’s fine. He can wait.

He’s not humoring anyone else, though. Not anymore. All those months he spent engaging with Coulson, even just to tell him he’d only talk to Skye, that’s over. Now that he has concrete proof they’re soulmates, he’s not bothering with anyone else.

So when the barrier on his cell clears to reveal Simmons, well into the night of the third day, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even get up. He stays right where he is, stretched out on his bed with his hands tucked beneath his head.

“The silent treatment?” she asks after an expectant pause. “That’s mature.”

Grant ignores her.

“Just as well,” she says. “I don’t need you to talk for this—in fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

The cold tone is unusual for her, but not unusual enough to get his interest. She’s not Skye. He’s not pretending to care about anyone but Skye anymore.

“As you were, then,” Simmons mutters, and then—then she takes off her shirt.

Grant sits up.

His cell’s not very big. Even from his bed, he has no trouble seeing what brought her down here: there, above the cup of her bra, is his name. Grant Ward, there in his own handwriting, curving down (down, how did he not realize, the black line that’ll become his soulmate’s name isn’t straight, it declines, not like a contrail, like the path a parachuter might take while diving out of the plane to save his soulmate’s life) from a black dot that’ll become the Bus once they’re bonded.

Skye isn’t his soulmate. Jemma is.

“You—” He doesn’t know what to say. For once in his life, he’s got nothing.

“I’m your soulmate, yes.” Thin-lipped, she pulls her shirt back on. “Leave Skye alone.”

“What?”

“She’s been through enough,” Jemma says tightly. “Leave her alone.”

Shaking off his shock, Grant stands. “You think I care about Skye? You’re—”

“Nothing,” she interrupts sharply. Then she takes a deep breath and continues, calmly, “I’m nothing to you, I know. But you never would’ve believed Skye isn’t your soulmate unless you saw it with your own eyes, so.” She gestures loosely at her chest. “Now you know, and you won’t be harassing her to the point she feels the need to strip and prove she hasn’t got your mark.”

There’s a lot there—a lot he’ll need to unpack later. For now, there’s only one part of it he’s concerned with.

“You’re not nothing to me,” he says. “You’re my soulmate. Jemma—”

“I’m nothing,” she repeats forcefully. “Don’t even try it, Ward.”

“I’m not trying—”

“You spent a year playing with my feelings,” she says over him. “You think I don’t know that? I might have been blind, but I’m still a genius. I was nothing to you then, and I’m nothing to you now. I won’t let you play me or anyone else again.”

Six months ago, Grant would’ve known exactly the right words to use to talk her down. He could’ve soothed her temper, brought her around, and he could’ve done it easily.

But he wasn’t expecting this. He wasn’t expecting her. The shock still has him floundering—and she doesn’t give him time to recover.

“Leave Skye alone,” she says again, voice and eyes equally cold, and then she blanks the barrier.

Well.

Fuck.

[in3ptbean]

'𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚘 𝚀𝚞𝚘'

Pairing: Danny ‘Jed Olsen” Johnson x Reader 

Summary: An exchange of favors between a sadistic killer and his favorite survivor 

Warnings: Gore, foul language, toxic Nea's

I do not own any of the Dead by Daylight characters, both survivors and killers(original) belong to Behavior Interactive. 

Masterlist  

(Not my GIF) 

You loathed going against Ghostface; and not for the reasons you think. 

Save for being a major asshole, Danny was a pretty chill dude with sadistic tendencies. He, for one, enjoyed the entities realm, and took full advantage of it. Never getting reprimanded for murder? Count him in! Need him to take care of an annoying survivor? Sure, he’ll take care of David the survivor for you! 

He was someone you could, surprisingly, count on. 

Yet, that’s how you ended up on Nea’s ‘sand bag’ list. 

You had grown tired of watching the Swedish girl thwart your attempts at survival during trials and it was really starting to piss you off. The others noticed the toxic behavior, looking at you with sympathy when they have to pull you off the hook for the second time in a trial. 

“I swear, I’m gonna murder her,” Steve cocked an eyebrow before a smile made it’s way to his lips. “Hell, I might even get Danny to do it,” You spat, hands roughly connecting the wires on the exposed insides of the bulky machinery. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Steve muttered, playfully taking a jab at your vengeful nature. “She’s got it coming,” You grinned at him, stepping away after the generator roared to life.  

“Alright, bet,”

That’s how you ended up running after Ghostface, grabbing his wrist to stop him from jumping over a window. He whipped around, instinctively swinging the knife you had fully been expecting. Stepping back, it hit nothing but air, causing him to look up down at you. 

“Well, if it isn’t-” 

“Cut the crap Danny, I need a favor,” He was taken back by your abrupt interruption, considering you were usually one of the only survivors to play along with his little charade. 

“Well, Sweet Cheeks,” You clenched your jaw at the nickname, ignoring the thudding of your racing heart. “I don’t do favors, even for my favorites,” He poked her stomach with his gloved hand, causing her to crack a smile. 

“Please! Just this once,” He grinned underneath his mask, dark chocolate hues taking you in. Dried blood, dark and viscous, stained your shirt on your left shoulder, the moisture from the mud and snow causing you to shiver only slightly. You hair was now damp from the Entity’s imitation snow and a thin film of sweat covered your skin. “I really need your help,”  

Tracking down and exposing the Swedish survivor was not what he had in mind when you asked him for a favor; but then again, when did you two ever seeing eye to eye.

He crouched behind the counter, watching the the Swede with narrowed eyes. She was bantering back and forth with the redhead, laughing at something embarrassing the latter did only minutes ago. Danny didn’t understand why you wanted him to stalk Nea, but who was he to judge? Steve and yourself ran into the lobby of the main lodge, joining the two at the generator. 

You ignored the burn of Nea’s glare, opting to talk quietly to Meg and Steve.  The other three had high hopes. That generator was currently the last one needed o power up the exit gates; but in the midst of the Generator roaring to life, they all forgot about the Crutch perk powered by the lone totem on the other side of the Resort. He lunged forward, taking a slash at the redhead. Meg fell to the ground with a yell, the group scattering for the gates. 

You ran with Steve, knowing damn well you were both fair game if Danny caught  up, not noticing the fact than Nea was following you both closely. Speaking of which, the Later had taken up to hanging the redhead in the basement, looking around before catching sight of their red line auras. 

He watched closely, noticing how closely the third Aura got to the second. He could only assume that was the Swede. He made quick work on impaling the hook through Megs shoulder, before hauling ass out of the basement and towards the furthest gate. he caught up to them, standing in the open as Nea had taken up the task of annoying the absolute fuck out of you. There was only so much you could take before whipping around and knocking her a new one, and much to her own surprise, she surpassed it a while ago. The two women were practically gauging each others eyes out with Steve trying to separate the two with futile attempts. 

Danny stood at the gates, unwillingly stalking the three of you until you noticed his presence. The three survivors screamed out in pain was a skull was burned into their faces, marking them as exposed. You shoved yourself away from Nea, only to have her fall and grab you ankle. Steve was frozen, watching as Danny swung his knife in her general direction.  You screamed, falling to the cold, blood stained ground in an instant. Nea rushed to the door, only to stop. 

Blood Warden. 

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. She screamed out as Danny tackled her to the floor, his knife ripping through her clothing and flesh with a gut-wrenching slick. Again and again, the knife impaled her back, bloodlust driving Danny to go more than overboard with his usual mori. Sure the Entity would be pissed, but he could care less. You watched in horror as Danny ripped his knife away from Nea’s corpse, letting her blood squirt everywhere; like a bloody fountain. You stood, with Steve’s help of course, watching Ghostface with caution. Danny strode towards them, watching them with a sickening grin before he  pulled out his camera. 

“Smile!” He shoved Steve out the gate, thankfully pushing him into the field the moment the Nightmares was crumpled down. Danny embraced your figure,  pulling you towards the corpse and pulling off his mask. He grinned, facing the camera while you tiredly smiled. The quick flash blinded you monetarily, but you quickly regained your composure as the Endgame collapse ticked down its final seconds. 

“Thanks’ Danny,” You muttered, embracing the killer tightly. Hesitantly, he returned the embrace, pressing you to his chest. He would do anything for you, no matter the repercussions. The Entities punishments were only a small price to pay for your happiness. With a quick peck to his cheek, you pulled away, giving him a final smile before standing. Danny was about to push you out of the gate when you raised your bloody palm. 

“Quid pro quo,” You muttered softly. 

The Entity impaled it’s spindle through your chest; a sickening snap echoing through the now silent resort. Ghostface watched, ignoring your pain stricken scream before you fell silent. The Entities branch like legs rattled, your body glowing softly before it consumed the sacrifice. 

“Quid pro quo,(Y/N) ” Danny responded, looking down at the newest collection in his camera. “Quid pro quo,” 

[whirlybirdwhat]

If you still do promts? How about Law getting a minor (big scare) relapse of His Amber lead problem?

I do!!!! Hope you enjoy <333

a mark of (not-quite) death

read on ao3!

Law wakes up aching.  

There is a throbbing in his back, a drum of pain running up his fingers, a blurriness in the back of his head that he can’t quite name, and a weakness that shakes in his limbs as he pushes himself upward.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. The dull light of his sub – the soft humming of the machines – it’s all already too much. He wants to go back to sleep.

Instinct tells him doing so will be his death –

Wait.

Law’s eyes flash open as his entire body starts shaking.

He hasn’t… hasn’t felt this way since he was 13 and running with Cora. He –

God.

No.

(Litanies of prayers flash through his mind, the same the nuns like to whisper over the children as they laid dying in bed. The lights of the hospital, the screams of agony, the white creeping up up up – his father shaking as he attached IV lines to his sister, the blood pooling on the streets –

No-)

It can’t be. Law got rid of it. He was the survivor. The only survivor, because of his thrice damned fruit.

His eyes look down, to where his hands are clenching the bunk he collapsed in late last night (after feeling off all day god he was a fool-), to where –

White splotches against tanned skin, spreading and rising in irregular shapes.

A relapse.

A relapse of Amber Lead Disease.

Law wants to laugh.

(Laugh, in the kind of laugh those who are about to die have. Laugh, not in the way of the indomitable D, but in the kind of way a sailor laughs in the face of a raging storm that he will not survive. Laugh, in the way that fools cry.)

Who knew it was possible?

Tears well up in his eyes as laughter chokes out past the tightening in his chest. He couldn’t die. Not yet.

Not when Doflamingo still lived.

His chest is getting tighter as he raises a shaky white splotched hand to his face, feeling the wetness there. His skin is rough, raised, god it already spread to his face?

He is going to die.

(Everything hurts.)

The world is going blurry at the edges, darkness creeping in, every limb aching and – Oh.

A sliver of thought breaks through the memories of pain and death and terror.

He needs to breathe.

Law takes a shuddering breath, pressing against his chest as if that would make his lungs work past the blinding panic in his mind.

It helps.

He takes another.

It helps more.

Another, and another, and another, until he is lying back in his too small bunk and looking up at the flickering lights.

Fuck, he thinks.

Fuck.

His eyes slip shut past the instinct ingrained in him from his days with Cora, and finally, finally, he falls back to a restless sleep.

-

Untellable time has passed when he finally drags himself out of bed, legs shaking beneath his weight. Kikoku is a helpful walking stick, his jeans an unhelpful hindrance, and his feet barefoot against the deck.

Bending down had hurt too much to put them on.

He makes his way, slowly, to the kitchen where most of the off-duty crew is, their chatter rising above the hum of engines and the lurching power of the sea.

Bepo –

Bepo is there.

Thank fuck.

He stumbles in and makes a bee-line towards his first mate, ignoring the cries of his crew (idiots – who told them they could care so much about him?) as he finally arrives in front of Bepo, shaking.

Bepo stares. “Captain?” His voice is soft.

Worried.

(The way it is after nightmares shake Law awake and all he can hear is the laughter of a mad tyrant echoing in his mind.)

Law stares back and carefully, carefully, slumps into Bepo’s arms.

(By the shouts of his crew, it’s not so carefully. It’s more the last legs of a starving man giving out.)

“Captain!” Bepo says, less questioning and more panicked and worried this time.

Law just shoves his face into his jacket and mumbles “I’m fine Bepo.” Half the words don’t make it out but it’s fine.

He’s fine.

Law is… Law is fine.

Shachi echoes from his right. “You don’t look fine captain.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in. “You look like death warmed over.”

(He’s not fine)

Law shudders, and shakes his head. “I feel it,” He mutters, uncharacteristically open, and then moves on as Bepo lowers them bother down to the bench. “It’ll… It’ll pass. Just need to operate, that’s all.”

He can’t see it with his face shoved into Bepo’s warmth but he just knows everyone is sharing glances over his head. Especially Shachi and Penguin and Bepo. They knew him… they knew him when he just got over Amber Lead, operating out of his skin with cries of pain and little control over his devil fruit….

And little choice to not do it.

It’s always like this out at sea – out on open waters with a black flag overhead, or the intention to be one. Life or death.

Life or death.

(For so long, Law has intended to die.)

He sighs, further, as they finally sit down, the ache in his legs easing as Bepo allows him to slump into his side. A hot mug is shoved into his hands and lifted to his lips, shakily.

Coffee.

Sweet, just how he secretly likes it. Ikkaku then, the only person who knows how to get it just right, helping him drink.

(His eyes feel so heavy.)

There’s murmuring around him. Law closes it out, to focus on how the jumpsuit is soft on his raised and rash-ridden skin.

Someone moves Kikoku away from him, and he doesn’t move an inch. The worried voices pick up again.

Soon, someone shakes him.

“Captain.”

He’s so tired.

“Captain.”

This is, essentially, the second worst thing that could possibly happen to him. The first being Doflamingo dies before Law can spit in his face and say Fuck You.

“Captain!”

He should have just operated in his room. Why didn’t he do that?

“Law!”

Oh.

He’s a captain now.

That’s him.

He pushes himself off Bepo, and blinks wearily at his crew.

“Yeah – Yes?” He tries to pour irritation into his voice, but honestly – they are a crew, no matter how often he holds them at arms lengths. They know he’s not as prickly as he seems. They have seen him half drowned, drunk out of his mind, and on fifteen to many cups of Shachi’s special coffee.

They can see him sick.

(He’s so tired.)

Penguin peers into his face, his hat tipped up so that he can meet Law’s eyes clearly with his own. “What operation?”

The words come out of him slurred and tired.

“Amber Lead,” He says, and doesn’t miss how Clione in the corner takes a step back. “It’s… not contagious…” He slumps further into Bepo. “That was all a government ruse.”

Most of them are from the North Blue. Most of them have heard the stories – of Flevance, and how it burned to the ground, how its people were exterminated, how its people were contagious and it was good for the world that their disease wasn’t spread.

Most of his crew, however, don’t know that he’s the last survivor.

A hand drifts over his cheek, tapping gently on the raised, white skin, and Law is drawn back into reality.

“’M from Flevance. Last survivor. My fruit… my fruit cured me. Had to operate.” He says, dimly remembering it. “Now its back. Gotta….” His mother would be ashamed of how his voice was drooping. Slurring. There was a patient he had to tend to. Wait. He was the patient. He was so tired and even the coffee wasn’t helping. “Operate again.”

Dimly, he remembers how he wasn’t allowed to see the adults who had Amber Lead. They were always worse off than the children once the disease reached its peak. The body, too old to defend itself. The mind, old enough to understand eminent death. To understand that you were leaving everyone behind, because of an unavoidable fate, because you were born of Flevance and its greed.

Now, Law is aching as he did when he was a child in the last stages of the disease, and he feels… distant and all too close to the fact all at once. He’s tired, but he has survived this before.

Before, he was alone.

Now, he has a crew.

(And a dream, as horrible and revenge driven as it is, to kill the one who took everything else from him.)

A crew that is slowly pulling him out of his despair and into open arms.

Bepo is muttering with Shachi and Penguin, something about how did it set in so fast? And Island conditions? And large concentrations of ore and ocean depths and battles? But all of it is fading distantly.

A hand taps his cheek and pulls the cup from his hands. He tries to follow it, but he is quickly trapped by a large, fluffy orange arm.

“Sleep, Captain.” That’s Clione, stepping closer now. “You can operate when you’re coherent.”

He wants to snap at them, snap at all of them, that he’s a man and doesn’t need to be babied, he’s done this before and he’ll do it again, and he’s a trained doctor –

(Who trained all of them-)

-so he can decide when he needs to sleep but –

Bepo’s arm is soft. Comforting. Familiar.

(He tried to find Cora’s coat after he was killed. He couldn’t. He missed the warmth of smoky black faux feathers. He had no comfort then, when he was digging into his skin with shaky powers and a stolen knife.)

Law falls to sleep, surrounded by crew, and hopes he’ll wake to see morning light.

-

There is none when he wakes. Instead, there is a heavy pressure on his right, crushing him, almost gently, against a large, soft, bodily shaped lump.

For a moment, with the shaking in his limbs, Law thinks he is in Flevance again, hiding amongst the bodies of his dead neighbors and friends to get a chance at life.

His heart races, before Bepo lets out a familiar snore and Shachi slaps at his cheeks.

Ah.

He’s not in Flevance.

He’s home.

(Usually, he would correct himself and say The Polar Tang. Not today. Today he is tired.)

He looks across the room.  They are still in the kitchen, the crew merely moving around him instead of moving him, the idiots. The lights are dimmed, and it seems to be only Bepo and Shachi in the room. A blanket is pulled around him, and his sword leaned against the wall.

He gives a sigh. Someone had even grabbed his hat for him.

(He wants his hat. His father had given it to him. He wants his hat.)

His eyes drift, still tired, but the aching in his limbs has abated for now. It’s time to move, before he’s lost again in pain and memories.

Law pushes at Bepo and Shachi, shoving both off of him in a spur of strength, before standing up.

“Captain!” Bepo cries happily, undeterred from his harsh wake up. On the ground, Shachi rubs his head but doesn’t complain. “You’re awake! Is your head better? Is your body better? Are you okay? Do you need water? Food? Wait maybe don’t’- “

The world spins as Law stands up, but he still manages to grit out a “Bepo!” that shuts the bear up quick. He feels bad for it, but at least the questions are stopped.

“Help me to the operating room.”

Shachi gives him a look even as Law refuses to wait for them to help him across the room to grab his sword. “Are you sure you’re ready to operate?”

Law gives him a look as he grips Kikoku, Bepo helping up his other arm. “If I don’t operate now, I won’t be able to later. If I don’t operate later, I’m going to fucking die.” The clarity in this threat and his voice seems to stir Shachi into opening the doors for them to go through, Law’s feet getting heavier with every step.

“Amber Lead, huh?” Shachi questions quietly.

Law lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

“That’s what you were recovering from when we first met, right? With the white splotches?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re back now.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they were gone forever.”

Law sighs again. “Me too,” he says, and that’s the end of the conversation. It’s silent then, as they pad through the ship to the operating room. The rest of the crew must know by now, because they don’t question it when Law limps quietly throughout the sub. They only nod, and give him worried looks.

His crew is a crew of fools.

(He wouldn’t trade them for the world.)

The operating room is already open when Law arrives.

(He can barely stand. His legs ache. He bets if he rolled up his pants, his legs would be near entirely white, the disease setting in quick. He hates this. He hates this.)

“Captain!” Penguin cheers from the corner where he is cleaning Law’s favorite sets of scalpels and has a chair set up. “Everything’s ready for when you need it! Didn’t know what exactly you needed, so I got everything that seemed reasonable.”

A part of Law softens at that, though his face hurts to twitch into smile. “Thank you, Peng,” He says, quiet, and with Bepo’s help eases himself into a chair. He sighs and gestures for the tray scalpels Penguin rolls over.

He’s practiced this kind of removal before, on albeit unwilling patients. They were thankful after, but never quite liked it when Law opened them up.

They felt no pain, thanks to the Ope-Ope fruits natural anesthetics, but removing things buried into your skin by what appears to be magical scalpels is never fun.

(It was funny to Law. He was always sadistic like that.)

He picks up a scalpel, gestures for his crew to back away, and then says, very carefully, “Room.”

His crew stares, but then the pieces come together when his eyes lock on Bepo and he says “Shambles.”

In an instant, his head is switched with the air above Bepo’s palms.

Bepo screams, only a bit, but it gives Law the perspective he needs to make this surgery.

His body is trembling before him, Law already feeling the strain from using his devil fruit. Splotches run up his arms from where his sleeves are rolled up, the hoodie dipping just a bit to reveal the splotches on his neck as well. When Law glances into the mirror on the tray, he pauses, for just a moment.

The spots make him seem… hollow. As if he were only a frame of the person he wanted to be. They fill his cheeks and nose, distorting over his forehead, like a skeleton made of flesh and empty spaces.

He looks tired.

(He always looks tired.)

He looks like death.

(A part of him laughs at that. The Surgeon of Death, looking like death warmed over? Irony at its finest.)

He blinks his eyes closed and opens them quickly. If he doesn’t act soon, he’ll be death.

He watches his arms lift in front of him, and mutters “Scan.”

His body lights up in shades of vibrant blue, making his spots glow where they are raised above the skin. Law looks closer, his fingers twirling in the air, till it is as if he can see the innermost parts of his body.

There.

The core of all his trouble, nestled right next to his lungs. A part of the Amber Lead he missed when he didn’t know that Scan was an ability he had with his fruit. A part that grew and grew and grew, and seemed to have been suddenly exacerbated by the climate of the Grand Line.

The only surprising part is that it took till now for it happen.

“Peng. Shach.” He says, straining, speaking odd when your mouth is in one area of the room and your voice box in another. “Get the infectious substance containers.”

Penguin looks alarmed. “Thought you said it wasn’t contagious?”

“Yes.” He responds. “It isn’t. But it is toxic, and this is the closest containment system we have. Get it.”

Penguin gives a snappy salute, and then he and Shachi are running out the door, leaving Bepo and Law’s disembodied head, and his body in the room.

Law sighs, neck leaning back so his head rests on Bepo’s chest. To Bepo’s merit, he only shifts his hold on Law.

A moment, and Bepo shifts his grip again so that one paw is patting Law’s head. IF his body were not so weak he would have strangled Bepo.

(It feels nice. He won’t let him know that.)

“Bepo.” He growls.

“Sorry!” Bepo yelps, but doesn’t stop dragging his fingers through Law’s hair, gentle and calm.

Law doesn’t scold him again, and instead fights the urge to sink into sleep by examining his body further.

His chest tightens when he realizes how much it had spread – all because Law didn’t bother to check up his body earlier. God.

He would have died if he didn’t have his fruit.

If Cora hadn’t…

The operating room door slamming open distracts him from his thoughts.

“We got it!” Shachi and Penguin cheer, rolling over two large glass and plastic and metal containers.

(Law new the destructions of diseases. He filched the best containment for his own ship.

Like hell he would let Flevance happen again.)

Law nods the best he can without a body, and across the room, his body raises its arms.

“Scan,” He says, one more time to be sure. When it all lights up again, he closes his eyes and breathes out.

One second.

Two.

He breathes in, and opens his eyes.

“Room,” He says, and the operating room becomes his. His eyes flash to the air inside the empty cases and –

“Shambles.”

The blue disappears from his eyes, from his body, from his face, the aches disappearing, in a snap from his skin, and into the containers already sealed shut. His fingers twitch, another muttered Shambles, and his head is securely on his body.

The world blurs in front of him.

Fuck.

He’s so tired.

So, so tired.

He lays back, melting against the chair, and doesn’t protest as Bepo lifts him up.

“You’re alright captain. You’re alright.”

As his hat is placed on his head, white splotches slowly fading from his hands in itchy waves, he honestly thinks he might be.

His eyes shut and to worried murmurs, he falls unconscious, operation over.

(His parents would be ashamed of how he didn’t check to make sure the patient was recovering right.

Wait.

He’s the patient.

Fuck.)

-

Law wakes without aching, without wanting to laugh, Bepo wrapped around him again and his favorite food on a tray beside him. When he looks in the mirror, only two splotches of white remain near his eyes, fading as he watches. Someone has washed his hair and scrubbed the other flakes of white on cheeks away with tender care, and a blanket is wrapped carefully around him. This time, Law doesn’t panic. This time, Law goes to goes back to sleep on purpose, smile gracing his features.

His crew is a crew of fools but fuck, if Law doesn’t love them. They keep him alive.

Law won’t die now.

Not yet.

And not from his past.